By Cantor Moshe Schulhof
Put Cantors Back Where They Belong
When I
began my cantorial career in New York in the late
1960`s, Jewish newspapers were full of shuls
advertising their chazzanim. Today, however, we have
a generation that has grown up with little or no
recollection of the central role of the shul and its
chazzan in Jewish life. They don`t know that shuls
once were magnificent and formal — or that prior to
the Holocaust, nearly every shul in Europe had a
full-time professional chazzan, often with a choir.
Davening was a spiritual experience elevated to sublime heights through the sha`ar haneginah, the gates of song. Just about every Jew looked forward to going to shul on Shabbos and Yom Tov thanks to the beauty and majesty of cantor and choir. Taking a drive through the Lower East Side, Harlem or the Bronx, one still can see the impressive buildings our parents and grandparents regarded as central to their Jewish existence.
In Eastern Europe today one can see, in nearly every town and city, the empty shells that once were magnificent Orthodox houses of worship. Those who perished in the fires of the Holocaust and those who were fortunate enough to survive had packed these shuls. Every city had a shtot chazan (official city cantor). Not only the large cities, but smaller ones as well — Munkacs, Sigeht, Satmar, Chust, Grosverdain, etc. — had a shtot chazzan. Yossele Rosenblatt began his adult career as the shtot chazzan of Munkacs.
The Vilneh Shtot Shul was one of the world`s most magnificent. Built iChazan officiated on Shabbos M`vorchim with the chief rabbi of Vilna. Some of the greatest chazonim in history held that post — Koussevitsky, Hershman, Roitman, Sirota and many more. The last chief rabbi to officiate there with a chazzan and choir was HaRav Hagaon Chaim Oizer Grodinsky.
In Budapest, the Kozinczy Shul, which still stands, great chazonim like Moshe Pries, served the congregation alongside HaRav Yonasan Shteif. The list is too long to enumerate. If the gedolei hador of yesteryear were comfortable with a chazzan and choir, why do present-day rabbonim break this mesorah (age-old tradition)?
Most of those communities did not have the financial means of today`s communities, yet it was considered a priority to build beautiful shuls and to beautify the davening with a cantor and a choir. The reasons for prioritizing this are firmly routed in halacha and in the teshuvos of the gedolei rishonim and acharonim.
It`s not exactly a secret that the Orthodox rabbinate, particularly the RCA, uses its influence on its congregants regarding chazzanim — with the result that few Orthodox shuls still employ professional shlichei tzibur. Those yichiday segulah, rabbis who have gone against the tide in maintaining a full-time chazzan, are doing an inestimable service for Orthodoxy and deserve our gratitude and praise. The fact remains, however, that an Orthodox shul with a chazzan is indeed a rarity.
An interesting but obscure halacha caught my attention recently. Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) Simon 53:25 says, "A chazzan is not dismissed from his profession unless he is found with a p`sul (a deed that would disqualify him)."
The Rema clarifies, "He is not dismissed based on rumor alone. For example, that he was caught with a [a non-Jewish woman] but only one individual reported it. However, if two witnesses come forward in a bais din, only then can he be dismissed."
Why did the Shulchan Aruch specifically use the chazan to illustrate a concept of justice that applies to all? Perhaps because Shulchan Aruch recognized that the chazzan was an endangered species, always at the mercy of rabbis and baalei batim. Hence it assigned him this mark of importance and stressed his immunity from unfounded accusations.
This halacha bears examination within a greater context as brought down by the Michaber. The previous halacha in Simon 53:24 says: "A community that needs to hire a rav and a chazan and has the funds to engage only one, if the rav is an outstanding gadol in Torah and halacha, he is to be hired; otherwise, the chazzan is first."
Today, a chazzan is never a hired instead of a rabbi and, as noted above, rarely even along with a rabbi. A prominent RCA [Rabbinic Council of America] rabbi offered the following explanation: "This halacha doesn`t apply today, since everyone knows how to lead a service. Therefore, a chazzan is not necessary."
My rejoinder to that rationalization: Could not the rav act as a chazzan and cover both jobs? Apparently, merely knowing how to read and chant does not suffice. One needs to possess a kol areiv (beautiful voice) and be both musical and a baki (an expert) in tefilah. Only a professional chazan can fulfill that requirement. Finally, Simon 53:22 says that "a professional shliach tzibur is preferable to a volunteer" and 53:23 says that "a shliach tzibur is paid out of communal funds."
How is it possible that those who are the teachers and transmitters of our Torah can disregard such clear rulings by the Shulchan Aruch and ignore the fact that this has been our continuous tradition since the destruction of the Temple? To break a chain of nearly two thousand years of tradition and halacha in the short span of one or two generations is both astounding and tragic.
The Responsa Anthology, a collection of responsas dating back from the age of the Geonim, has a number of teshuvos that speak about the central role the chazan plays in Jewish religious life. One teshuvah is particularly noteworthy because it explains why the chazzan is essential when it comes to tefilah b`tzibur. The Mahari Brunna, a 15th century rishon, was asked at what point a chazzan`s voice become unacceptable.
The responsum:
"Song is a form of service to Hashem. For example, the Levites would chant daily song during the Temple Service. The voices of the Levites had to be pleasing, as it is written in Divrei Hayamim 11 5:15, when the trumpeters and singers were as one. Rashi explains this to mean that the music sounded harmonious (Chulin 24b). When a Levite`s voice ceased to be resonant, he was disqualified as a singer. Our tefilos have replaced the sacrifices in the Temple, and song continues to be an integral part of prayer services, as we say every morning during Shacharis "habocher b`shirei zimrah" (Hashem, who chooses musical songs of praise). Therefore, as long as the chazan`s voice sounds smooth, he is acceptable, but if it sounds shaky, broken and unsteady, he should not continue to officiate."
Can the requirement of a professional chazzan in every shul be any clearer?
We are all familiar with the following dictum from Pirkei Avos: "Al shlosha devarim haolam omed, al hatorah v`al haavodah v`al g`milus chasodim" (The world stands on three principles — on Torah, on service/prayer, and on deeds of loving kindness.) When the Nazis tried to wipe out the Jewish people, their first targets were our houses of worship. Then they burned our seforim, destroyed our infrastructure, and, finally, killed our bodies.
Baruch Hashem, Torah was saved from the fires of the Holocaust and a new and glorious chapter is being written in its study and growth. Our institutions of g`milas chasodim are thriving. But the pillar of avodah — the shul, specifically rinah and tefilah — has not, in my opinion, been adequately reconstructed. It is time to retrieve and rebuild that pillar of avodah from the ashes of the Holocaust.
Though the chazan has been marginalized and even scorned since the Holocaust, chazanus still lives on in the hearts of many. There has been something of a reawakening in recent years, with chazanus concerts showing a newfound popularity.
In Israel this renaissance began a number of years ago and is now in full swing. Chazanus concerts with major symphony orchestras are held in the country`s largest halls. I am privileged to regularly participate in them. Chazonim are invited to daven for special occasions. Yes, chazanus rings loud today in Israel. And here in America interest is growing. Credit is due the chazzanim who have persisted against all odds and the visionary efforts of people like Chaim Weiner, Charlie Bernhaut, Cantors Benny Rogosnitsky and Binyamin Siller, and other like-minded individuals.
Concerts, however, serve only to give people a taste of the beauty of this heritage. A chazan`s real calling lies not in giving concerts but in being a shliach tzibbur, in being mispallel for Klal Yisrael and inspiring members of the congregation to pray with all their hearts.
Some may argue that chazzanim themselves are responsible for being phased out. Indeed, in some cases chazzanim led less than exemplary personal lives and turned davening into endlessly drawn-out performances. We should not, however, throw out the baby with the dirty bath water. It is time for chazonim who are yirei shamayim to be back where they belong — at the center of the service in our *Orthodox shuls.
Cantor Moshe Schulhof is one of the world`s leading cantors. He lives in Aventura, Florida, with his wife, Ruchama, and children. He studied chazanuth under David Koussevitsky and is a miasmic of Yeshiva Bais Joseph of Brooklyn.
*The Jewish Ministers Cantors Association of America believes that the Cantor, the Hazzan, the Sh’liach Tzibur is central to all devotional services within Judaism
Davening was a spiritual experience elevated to sublime heights through the sha`ar haneginah, the gates of song. Just about every Jew looked forward to going to shul on Shabbos and Yom Tov thanks to the beauty and majesty of cantor and choir. Taking a drive through the Lower East Side, Harlem or the Bronx, one still can see the impressive buildings our parents and grandparents regarded as central to their Jewish existence.
In Eastern Europe today one can see, in nearly every town and city, the empty shells that once were magnificent Orthodox houses of worship. Those who perished in the fires of the Holocaust and those who were fortunate enough to survive had packed these shuls. Every city had a shtot chazan (official city cantor). Not only the large cities, but smaller ones as well — Munkacs, Sigeht, Satmar, Chust, Grosverdain, etc. — had a shtot chazzan. Yossele Rosenblatt began his adult career as the shtot chazzan of Munkacs.
The Vilneh Shtot Shul was one of the world`s most magnificent. Built iChazan officiated on Shabbos M`vorchim with the chief rabbi of Vilna. Some of the greatest chazonim in history held that post — Koussevitsky, Hershman, Roitman, Sirota and many more. The last chief rabbi to officiate there with a chazzan and choir was HaRav Hagaon Chaim Oizer Grodinsky.
In Budapest, the Kozinczy Shul, which still stands, great chazonim like Moshe Pries, served the congregation alongside HaRav Yonasan Shteif. The list is too long to enumerate. If the gedolei hador of yesteryear were comfortable with a chazzan and choir, why do present-day rabbonim break this mesorah (age-old tradition)?
Most of those communities did not have the financial means of today`s communities, yet it was considered a priority to build beautiful shuls and to beautify the davening with a cantor and a choir. The reasons for prioritizing this are firmly routed in halacha and in the teshuvos of the gedolei rishonim and acharonim.
It`s not exactly a secret that the Orthodox rabbinate, particularly the RCA, uses its influence on its congregants regarding chazzanim — with the result that few Orthodox shuls still employ professional shlichei tzibur. Those yichiday segulah, rabbis who have gone against the tide in maintaining a full-time chazzan, are doing an inestimable service for Orthodoxy and deserve our gratitude and praise. The fact remains, however, that an Orthodox shul with a chazzan is indeed a rarity.
An interesting but obscure halacha caught my attention recently. Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) Simon 53:25 says, "A chazzan is not dismissed from his profession unless he is found with a p`sul (a deed that would disqualify him)."
The Rema clarifies, "He is not dismissed based on rumor alone. For example, that he was caught with a [a non-Jewish woman] but only one individual reported it. However, if two witnesses come forward in a bais din, only then can he be dismissed."
Why did the Shulchan Aruch specifically use the chazan to illustrate a concept of justice that applies to all? Perhaps because Shulchan Aruch recognized that the chazzan was an endangered species, always at the mercy of rabbis and baalei batim. Hence it assigned him this mark of importance and stressed his immunity from unfounded accusations.
This halacha bears examination within a greater context as brought down by the Michaber. The previous halacha in Simon 53:24 says: "A community that needs to hire a rav and a chazan and has the funds to engage only one, if the rav is an outstanding gadol in Torah and halacha, he is to be hired; otherwise, the chazzan is first."
Today, a chazzan is never a hired instead of a rabbi and, as noted above, rarely even along with a rabbi. A prominent RCA [Rabbinic Council of America] rabbi offered the following explanation: "This halacha doesn`t apply today, since everyone knows how to lead a service. Therefore, a chazzan is not necessary."
My rejoinder to that rationalization: Could not the rav act as a chazzan and cover both jobs? Apparently, merely knowing how to read and chant does not suffice. One needs to possess a kol areiv (beautiful voice) and be both musical and a baki (an expert) in tefilah. Only a professional chazan can fulfill that requirement. Finally, Simon 53:22 says that "a professional shliach tzibur is preferable to a volunteer" and 53:23 says that "a shliach tzibur is paid out of communal funds."
How is it possible that those who are the teachers and transmitters of our Torah can disregard such clear rulings by the Shulchan Aruch and ignore the fact that this has been our continuous tradition since the destruction of the Temple? To break a chain of nearly two thousand years of tradition and halacha in the short span of one or two generations is both astounding and tragic.
The Responsa Anthology, a collection of responsas dating back from the age of the Geonim, has a number of teshuvos that speak about the central role the chazan plays in Jewish religious life. One teshuvah is particularly noteworthy because it explains why the chazzan is essential when it comes to tefilah b`tzibur. The Mahari Brunna, a 15th century rishon, was asked at what point a chazzan`s voice become unacceptable.
The responsum:
"Song is a form of service to Hashem. For example, the Levites would chant daily song during the Temple Service. The voices of the Levites had to be pleasing, as it is written in Divrei Hayamim 11 5:15, when the trumpeters and singers were as one. Rashi explains this to mean that the music sounded harmonious (Chulin 24b). When a Levite`s voice ceased to be resonant, he was disqualified as a singer. Our tefilos have replaced the sacrifices in the Temple, and song continues to be an integral part of prayer services, as we say every morning during Shacharis "habocher b`shirei zimrah" (Hashem, who chooses musical songs of praise). Therefore, as long as the chazan`s voice sounds smooth, he is acceptable, but if it sounds shaky, broken and unsteady, he should not continue to officiate."
Can the requirement of a professional chazzan in every shul be any clearer?
We are all familiar with the following dictum from Pirkei Avos: "Al shlosha devarim haolam omed, al hatorah v`al haavodah v`al g`milus chasodim" (The world stands on three principles — on Torah, on service/prayer, and on deeds of loving kindness.) When the Nazis tried to wipe out the Jewish people, their first targets were our houses of worship. Then they burned our seforim, destroyed our infrastructure, and, finally, killed our bodies.
Baruch Hashem, Torah was saved from the fires of the Holocaust and a new and glorious chapter is being written in its study and growth. Our institutions of g`milas chasodim are thriving. But the pillar of avodah — the shul, specifically rinah and tefilah — has not, in my opinion, been adequately reconstructed. It is time to retrieve and rebuild that pillar of avodah from the ashes of the Holocaust.
Though the chazan has been marginalized and even scorned since the Holocaust, chazanus still lives on in the hearts of many. There has been something of a reawakening in recent years, with chazanus concerts showing a newfound popularity.
In Israel this renaissance began a number of years ago and is now in full swing. Chazanus concerts with major symphony orchestras are held in the country`s largest halls. I am privileged to regularly participate in them. Chazonim are invited to daven for special occasions. Yes, chazanus rings loud today in Israel. And here in America interest is growing. Credit is due the chazzanim who have persisted against all odds and the visionary efforts of people like Chaim Weiner, Charlie Bernhaut, Cantors Benny Rogosnitsky and Binyamin Siller, and other like-minded individuals.
Concerts, however, serve only to give people a taste of the beauty of this heritage. A chazan`s real calling lies not in giving concerts but in being a shliach tzibbur, in being mispallel for Klal Yisrael and inspiring members of the congregation to pray with all their hearts.
Some may argue that chazzanim themselves are responsible for being phased out. Indeed, in some cases chazzanim led less than exemplary personal lives and turned davening into endlessly drawn-out performances. We should not, however, throw out the baby with the dirty bath water. It is time for chazonim who are yirei shamayim to be back where they belong — at the center of the service in our *Orthodox shuls.
Cantor Moshe Schulhof is one of the world`s leading cantors. He lives in Aventura, Florida, with his wife, Ruchama, and children. He studied chazanuth under David Koussevitsky and is a miasmic of Yeshiva Bais Joseph of Brooklyn.
*The Jewish Ministers Cantors Association of America believes that the Cantor, the Hazzan, the Sh’liach Tzibur is central to all devotional services within Judaism
The Impact of Leib Glanz Upon The Art of Hazanut
As in
every art form, there are those who excel in
presenting their art to the world and who live on
through their works for eternity. Beyond that,
there are those rare visionaries, individuals who
possess such creativity, coupled with immense
courage, that ultimately impact their art form for
generations to come. Generally, these artists and
composers are usually considered "ahead of their
time" and may be confronted with opposition during
their lifetimes. Ultimately, their thoughts and
visions succeed in steering the art form into new
paths to the point where anyone who comes later,
finds himself building upon their innovations.
In the world of classical music such individuals included the likes of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Stravinsky or Hindemith; and in the world of fine arts, geniuses such as Leonardo, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, El Greco, Monet, and Picasso. Each one changed their art for all eternity.
Similarly, the art of the cantor has evolved through the years. The roots of this art can be traced back to ancient times when the cantillation of the bible was begun, leading to the early development of the ancient Jewish prayer modes (nusach). The first ones to "pour old wine into new vessels" in past centuries were Solomone Rossi, Salomon Sulzer, Louis Lewandowsky and others like them who began to incorporate Western European choral music into the synagogue service, using age-old motifs. Synagogue composers, such as David Novakovsky, Abraham Dunajefsky, Nissi Belzer, and "Pitzsche" Abrass, wrote choral harmonies to traditional Eastern European chazanut. This continued to develop in the twentieth century by notable composers such as Sholom Secunda, Max Helfman, and Max Janowsky. Present day composers continue to build upon these earlier works.
In Eastern Europe, in the late eighteenth century, a new phenomenon began developing: the virtuoso cantor when the art of the cantor reached beyond the walls of the synagogue onto the concert stage. In that sense, chazanut has emerged not only as a form of worship, but also as entertainment. Indeed cantors were often referred to as "Omed Kuntsler" (artists of the pulpit). One of the earliest of this type of cantor was the eighteenth century Cantor Yoel Dovid Strashunsky, known as the Vilner Balabesl. Other notables were Yerucham Hakatan, Solomon Rozumni, Avraham Berkovitz (Kalachnick), and Jacob Bachmann.
In order for these extraordinary cantors to have a vehicle to present their phenomenal vocal and musical talents, music had to be composed. Hence, some of these artists were not only great singers but great composers as well. Four individuals stand out, in my humble assessment, as innovators of the so-called "Golden Age of Cantorial": Yossele Rosenblatt, Zavel Kwartin, Moshe Kousevitsky, and Leib Glantz. To appreciate the impact of Leib Glantz on cantorial art, it is essential to first understand the contribution of the other three great personalities.
Yossele Rosenblatt possessed a voice of rare beauty that sounded almost like a cello. His compositions are full of melody, sophisticated but simple; they appeal both to the lovers of chazanut and the uninitiated. He was the Verdi of chazanut.
Zavel Kwartin, with his magnificent baritone, was the master of the predictable. His music was genuinely Jewish. He taught us how to be dramatic without veering away from the road of nusach and old-fashioned chazanut.
Moshe Kousevitsky created a style based upon vocal acrobatics. Because he possessed an enormous voice that had a nearly limitless range and flexibility, he created and adapted compositions that would show off the brilliance of his voice and technique. Every cantor today would like to sound like Koussevitsky. Unfortunately, the road is littered with the corpses of ruined voices of Kousevitsky wanna bees. Yet his style survives.
Leib Glantz was different. I never had the honor to meet him personally, nor hear him sing in a live performance. It was my privilege to serve as the cantor of Shaarei Tefilah synagogue in Los Angeles for eight years, on the same pulpit that he had graced prior to his making Aliya to Israel in 1954. During my years at Shaarei Tefilah, I heard many members of the congregation warmly reminiscing about his days as their cantor. I also had the pleasure of spending hours with his wife, Miriam, listening to her describe Glantz's unique approach to chazanut.
I was first exposed to his music as a teenager while studying chazanut and
nusach with Noah Schall, who had me listen to Leib Glantz's Selichot Service. The Slichot was one of Glantz's last recordings. It was recorded live for Israeli Radio at a synagogue service in Tel Aviv's Tiferet Zvi synagogue. This was the completely mature Glantz, and it was radically different from anything I had ever heard before.
My first reaction was very negative. I felt that it was way over my head. Noah Schall raved about Glantz's genius while enjoying my bewilderment. He took it as a challenge to make me see what Glantz was about, and to teach me to understand and appreciate his genius. Mrs. Glantz once described Glantz's approach to cantorial: Glantz believed that the music was an accompaniment to the text. Basically, he was not looking to create pleasing melodies, to show off his range or his phenomenal coloratura. These were just vehicles to be used only when they could interpret the meaning and the spirit of the text, the nusach, and the atmosphere of the prayer.
Before Glantz made this the cornerstone of his cantorial, it was usually the other way around. The music was of primary importance, very often having very little connection to the text. Glantz, on the other hand, wasn't concerned about how melodic, beautiful, or entertaining the music was. It was meant to stir you up, even to disturb you if the text called for it. Above all, this music was intended to bring you to understand deeply what the author of the prayer was saying to God.
In order to listen or to sing Glantz's music, one is required to be in a completely different mind-set. Glantz cannot simply be listened to casually, especially in his later compositions. He needs to be studied and absorbed slowly. As a novice listener, one has to listen to him a number of times before you can even begin to appreciate his genius.
His style evolved throughout his lifetime. His first recordings (1928-29) contain some of his most famous compositions: Shema Yisrael, Tefilat Tal, and V'chol Maaminim. Though highly original, these were just the first stirrings of what was beginning to develop. Since these compositions are relatively conventional, they remain part of the standard repertoire of every cantor of note, and are sung as part of their popular repertoire. They are always "crowd pleasers."
As he further crystallized his approach, in his middle era. His most notable recorded composition is "Shomer Yisrael." Here Glantz begins with a typical nusach melody that a simple Jew would pray in the synagogue in the morning service. He slowly builds up intensity upon that motif. The listener becomes caught up in this growing intensity and is deeply moved. At the same time he becomes almost disturbed. I recall being introduced to this number by Cantor Arie Subar of Montreal, an avid fan of Glantz. He heard Glantz sing Shomer Yisrael at a concert, and became so emotionally shaken that he had to leave the auditorium. Indeed, every time I hear this composition, I am still in absolute awe. I have yet to hear anyone other than Glantz sing it.
All great innovators begin their careers in one era and end in another. The middle period is the bridge between the two. It was a very prolific time for Glantz. Not only did he write chazanut but also zmirot (songs) that are sung at many Shabbat dinner tables. A great example is the ever-popular D'ror Yikrah.
His style reached its full bloom during his last ten years in Israel (1954 until his passing in 1964). In Tel Aviv he enjoyed an audience that clearly understood the Hebrew language. This audience was capable of comprehending what he was trying to do. Indeed, many of the people who became Glantz fans were beginning to regard "conventional" chazanut as somewhat superficial. It was during this period that his unique style came into full maturity.
With an audience capable of understanding the words, Glantz was able to provide ever-deeper interpretations of the prayers, finding hidden meanings and illuminating both the explicit and implicit content. He accomplished this by venturing into musical areas rarely explored before him. He used chromatics (12 tone scales), as well as modern musical concepts of tonality. He would use diminished and augmented intervals, and even atonal expressions. He introduced "pshat" (deeper interpretations, literal meanings), as well as expressionism into his music. At times Glantz would "refresh" the nusach by veering far away from it, then returning to it, preventing monotony and reinforcing it anew.
His colossal vocal abilities enabled Glantz to venture vocally to wherever his creative mind took him. Though his voice was unique, his style and philosophical approach have deeply influenced all who came after him. Even some of his contemporaries in their later years began to use his concepts. Indeed, we hear a lot of "Glantzism" in the latter years of cantors such as Moshe Ganchof, Shlomo Mandel, and Moshe Kraus.
Contemporary composers of liturgical music are currently writing music with modern harmonies, mainly because Glantz proved that one could still be rooted in tradition and at the same time be thoroughly modern. The music performed at Jerusalem's Great Synagogue is a study of how tradition and modernism can be successfully combined -- an example set by Leib Glantz.
My cantorial compositions are extremely influenced by Glantz's teachings. I write music to enhance the text, while endeavoring to be emotionally stirring, musically interesting, yet true to the nusach. Glantz opened up my imagination and showed me the limitless horizons of creativity, while at the same time remaining true to tradition. I may even write atonally, while at the same time being tonal. I can venture from one mode into another key using any note on the original scale as the new tonic of a new scale. I can use chromatics, dissonant intervals, large interval jumps; in short, I can go fearlessly wherever my imagination takes me, thanks to the path shown by the immortal genius of Leib Glantz. He will forever be an integral part of the continuous development and metamorphosis of cantorial and Jewish Music.
In the world of classical music such individuals included the likes of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Stravinsky or Hindemith; and in the world of fine arts, geniuses such as Leonardo, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, El Greco, Monet, and Picasso. Each one changed their art for all eternity.
Similarly, the art of the cantor has evolved through the years. The roots of this art can be traced back to ancient times when the cantillation of the bible was begun, leading to the early development of the ancient Jewish prayer modes (nusach). The first ones to "pour old wine into new vessels" in past centuries were Solomone Rossi, Salomon Sulzer, Louis Lewandowsky and others like them who began to incorporate Western European choral music into the synagogue service, using age-old motifs. Synagogue composers, such as David Novakovsky, Abraham Dunajefsky, Nissi Belzer, and "Pitzsche" Abrass, wrote choral harmonies to traditional Eastern European chazanut. This continued to develop in the twentieth century by notable composers such as Sholom Secunda, Max Helfman, and Max Janowsky. Present day composers continue to build upon these earlier works.
In Eastern Europe, in the late eighteenth century, a new phenomenon began developing: the virtuoso cantor when the art of the cantor reached beyond the walls of the synagogue onto the concert stage. In that sense, chazanut has emerged not only as a form of worship, but also as entertainment. Indeed cantors were often referred to as "Omed Kuntsler" (artists of the pulpit). One of the earliest of this type of cantor was the eighteenth century Cantor Yoel Dovid Strashunsky, known as the Vilner Balabesl. Other notables were Yerucham Hakatan, Solomon Rozumni, Avraham Berkovitz (Kalachnick), and Jacob Bachmann.
In order for these extraordinary cantors to have a vehicle to present their phenomenal vocal and musical talents, music had to be composed. Hence, some of these artists were not only great singers but great composers as well. Four individuals stand out, in my humble assessment, as innovators of the so-called "Golden Age of Cantorial": Yossele Rosenblatt, Zavel Kwartin, Moshe Kousevitsky, and Leib Glantz. To appreciate the impact of Leib Glantz on cantorial art, it is essential to first understand the contribution of the other three great personalities.
Yossele Rosenblatt possessed a voice of rare beauty that sounded almost like a cello. His compositions are full of melody, sophisticated but simple; they appeal both to the lovers of chazanut and the uninitiated. He was the Verdi of chazanut.
Zavel Kwartin, with his magnificent baritone, was the master of the predictable. His music was genuinely Jewish. He taught us how to be dramatic without veering away from the road of nusach and old-fashioned chazanut.
Moshe Kousevitsky created a style based upon vocal acrobatics. Because he possessed an enormous voice that had a nearly limitless range and flexibility, he created and adapted compositions that would show off the brilliance of his voice and technique. Every cantor today would like to sound like Koussevitsky. Unfortunately, the road is littered with the corpses of ruined voices of Kousevitsky wanna bees. Yet his style survives.
Leib Glantz was different. I never had the honor to meet him personally, nor hear him sing in a live performance. It was my privilege to serve as the cantor of Shaarei Tefilah synagogue in Los Angeles for eight years, on the same pulpit that he had graced prior to his making Aliya to Israel in 1954. During my years at Shaarei Tefilah, I heard many members of the congregation warmly reminiscing about his days as their cantor. I also had the pleasure of spending hours with his wife, Miriam, listening to her describe Glantz's unique approach to chazanut.
I was first exposed to his music as a teenager while studying chazanut and
nusach with Noah Schall, who had me listen to Leib Glantz's Selichot Service. The Slichot was one of Glantz's last recordings. It was recorded live for Israeli Radio at a synagogue service in Tel Aviv's Tiferet Zvi synagogue. This was the completely mature Glantz, and it was radically different from anything I had ever heard before.
My first reaction was very negative. I felt that it was way over my head. Noah Schall raved about Glantz's genius while enjoying my bewilderment. He took it as a challenge to make me see what Glantz was about, and to teach me to understand and appreciate his genius. Mrs. Glantz once described Glantz's approach to cantorial: Glantz believed that the music was an accompaniment to the text. Basically, he was not looking to create pleasing melodies, to show off his range or his phenomenal coloratura. These were just vehicles to be used only when they could interpret the meaning and the spirit of the text, the nusach, and the atmosphere of the prayer.
Before Glantz made this the cornerstone of his cantorial, it was usually the other way around. The music was of primary importance, very often having very little connection to the text. Glantz, on the other hand, wasn't concerned about how melodic, beautiful, or entertaining the music was. It was meant to stir you up, even to disturb you if the text called for it. Above all, this music was intended to bring you to understand deeply what the author of the prayer was saying to God.
In order to listen or to sing Glantz's music, one is required to be in a completely different mind-set. Glantz cannot simply be listened to casually, especially in his later compositions. He needs to be studied and absorbed slowly. As a novice listener, one has to listen to him a number of times before you can even begin to appreciate his genius.
His style evolved throughout his lifetime. His first recordings (1928-29) contain some of his most famous compositions: Shema Yisrael, Tefilat Tal, and V'chol Maaminim. Though highly original, these were just the first stirrings of what was beginning to develop. Since these compositions are relatively conventional, they remain part of the standard repertoire of every cantor of note, and are sung as part of their popular repertoire. They are always "crowd pleasers."
As he further crystallized his approach, in his middle era. His most notable recorded composition is "Shomer Yisrael." Here Glantz begins with a typical nusach melody that a simple Jew would pray in the synagogue in the morning service. He slowly builds up intensity upon that motif. The listener becomes caught up in this growing intensity and is deeply moved. At the same time he becomes almost disturbed. I recall being introduced to this number by Cantor Arie Subar of Montreal, an avid fan of Glantz. He heard Glantz sing Shomer Yisrael at a concert, and became so emotionally shaken that he had to leave the auditorium. Indeed, every time I hear this composition, I am still in absolute awe. I have yet to hear anyone other than Glantz sing it.
All great innovators begin their careers in one era and end in another. The middle period is the bridge between the two. It was a very prolific time for Glantz. Not only did he write chazanut but also zmirot (songs) that are sung at many Shabbat dinner tables. A great example is the ever-popular D'ror Yikrah.
His style reached its full bloom during his last ten years in Israel (1954 until his passing in 1964). In Tel Aviv he enjoyed an audience that clearly understood the Hebrew language. This audience was capable of comprehending what he was trying to do. Indeed, many of the people who became Glantz fans were beginning to regard "conventional" chazanut as somewhat superficial. It was during this period that his unique style came into full maturity.
With an audience capable of understanding the words, Glantz was able to provide ever-deeper interpretations of the prayers, finding hidden meanings and illuminating both the explicit and implicit content. He accomplished this by venturing into musical areas rarely explored before him. He used chromatics (12 tone scales), as well as modern musical concepts of tonality. He would use diminished and augmented intervals, and even atonal expressions. He introduced "pshat" (deeper interpretations, literal meanings), as well as expressionism into his music. At times Glantz would "refresh" the nusach by veering far away from it, then returning to it, preventing monotony and reinforcing it anew.
His colossal vocal abilities enabled Glantz to venture vocally to wherever his creative mind took him. Though his voice was unique, his style and philosophical approach have deeply influenced all who came after him. Even some of his contemporaries in their later years began to use his concepts. Indeed, we hear a lot of "Glantzism" in the latter years of cantors such as Moshe Ganchof, Shlomo Mandel, and Moshe Kraus.
Contemporary composers of liturgical music are currently writing music with modern harmonies, mainly because Glantz proved that one could still be rooted in tradition and at the same time be thoroughly modern. The music performed at Jerusalem's Great Synagogue is a study of how tradition and modernism can be successfully combined -- an example set by Leib Glantz.
My cantorial compositions are extremely influenced by Glantz's teachings. I write music to enhance the text, while endeavoring to be emotionally stirring, musically interesting, yet true to the nusach. Glantz opened up my imagination and showed me the limitless horizons of creativity, while at the same time remaining true to tradition. I may even write atonally, while at the same time being tonal. I can venture from one mode into another key using any note on the original scale as the new tonic of a new scale. I can use chromatics, dissonant intervals, large interval jumps; in short, I can go fearlessly wherever my imagination takes me, thanks to the path shown by the immortal genius of Leib Glantz. He will forever be an integral part of the continuous development and metamorphosis of cantorial and Jewish Music.
Nusach Hatfilah – A Unifying Force in Judaism
A survivor
of the Holocaust by the name of Chaim related a
remarkable story that I would like to share with you.
Chaim grew up in Budapest and remained there during
the war years. Though life was not easy, they managed
to survive, living in the Jewish part of the city
before the Nazi occupation. But then the holocaust
came to Budapest as well, with all its fury. The
Nazi’s were aided by the Hungarian Arrow Cross, who
murdered Jews randomly The infamous Eichman herded
the Jews into a Ghetto from where they would be
deported to Auschwitz. Chaim wasn’t going to wait to
be taken away or being shot by the Hungarians. He
decided to move to the other side of the Danube into
Buda where no Jews lived, and hide out as a gentile
He found a room in a remote part of the city hoping not to be recognized and thereby to save himself. Being armed with false papers, Chaim claimed to have come from the south of Hungary looking for work. Most of the neighbors paid little attention to him except for one young man by the name of Laszlo. He seemed to always be looking suspiciously at Chaim. When Chaim tried to make conversation with Laszlo, he became very evasive and defensive. He made Chaim feel very uneasy. Fearing that this man might be onto him, Chaim decided to look for another place to live. One day he noticed that he was being followed by that man and quickly went into a crowd to loose him. Yet, something about him didn’t seem sinister.
Chaim concluded that this man was either a Nazi informant, or another Jew also in hiding, but how can he find out which it was? They kept eyeing each other uneasily. One day there was a heat wave and the occupants of the building remained outside until late into the evening. Chaim, not wanting to get into unnecessary conversations with the other tenants, remained in his room despite the stifling heat. Late that evening, Chaim noticed from his window that all the other tenants had gone to their apartments, except for Laszlo, who was still out in the front of the building smoking a cigarette.
Chaim decided that this was an opportune moment to try something. He went downstairs and stood within earshot of Laszlo. Chaim began to whistle the tune of Kol Nidray. If Laszlo was indeed a non-Jew, it would mean nothing to him, but if he was Jewish, there would be an immediate recognition. Laszlo looked at Chaim as if stunned and began to also whistle. Both had tears in their eyes. Laszlo then said “Oich a yid” (also a Jew). Laszlo then told Chaim how frightened he was of Chaim, thinking that he might be a Nazi informant.
As Jews we feel a strong connection with other Jews because of many factors. Though we may come from different countries, have different languages, or cultures, one of the strongest connections that tie us together, is our music, particularly our synagogue music. The Kol Nidray night with its haunting melody is part of what makes us feel Jewish. No matter what Synagogue, in any country in the world we might be, we pray with the same melody. A Jew from Boro Park can walk into a Shul in London, Jerusalem, Melbourne or any other city in the world and immediately recognize the “Davening” and join in as if he had prayed there all his life. What makes this possible? The answer is, the age old Nusach Hatfilah, the musical mode and familiar chant of the Shliach Tzibur. This is what allows any Ashkenazi Jew, no matter where he is from or what cultural background he has, to be completely familiar with the “Davening” wherever he may be and on a Yor Tzait or CH”V in “Availus”, to act as the Shliach Tzibur.
Unfortunately there are many people that are not proficient enough in the “Nusach” to act as the Shliach Tzibur, yet unabashedly walk over to the “Omud” and attempt to lead the services. They are doing a great disservice to everyone present without realizing it. If the Shliach Tzibur knows the Nusach, you will always hear the loud voice of the whole congregation joining together in the “Davening”. One immediately gets a feeling of oneness “K’ish Echad B’leiv Echad” (all become as one person with a singular heart). This gathering of people becomes truly one Minyan praying together with enthusiasm. Yet, when someone who has no business acting as a Shliach Tzibur attempts to do what he is unable, there is generally a deathly silence in the Shul. The Minyan comes together only by Kaddish, Kidusha and Borchu. Other than that, it is many people in one room, “Davening Biyichidus”(as separate individuals) as if without a Minyan.
This is particularly a problem when one is considered a “Chiyuv” such a mourner who attempts to do what he doesn’t know how to do. As in the story where a mourner upon completion of the services was approached by the Rabbi and told, “when your father passed away he made you into a “Yasom” (an orphan) but he didn’t make you into a Chazzan.
In short if one wants to act as the Shliach Tzibur during the weekdays, or for Mincha on Shabbos one doesn’t need a good voice, but must know the Nusach. Otherwise instead of creating a Minyan, he destroys the Minyan.
I recently “Davind Shachris”, in a well-known “Minyan Factory”, in New York City on a weekday. A Chassidic looking man, even more, a Rebbish looking man occupied the Omud. He began immediately whining in a high voice and saying every word loud. The whining didn’t have even the remotest resemblance to “Nusach”, however the gentleman certainly prayed with great devotion. Though there where well over one hundred people present, throughout this torture, there was a deathly silence in a Shul where one normally hears the loud Rinah Utfilah (the sound of a multitude praying melodiously together). Not only one couldn’t join in, but ones Kavanah was totally disturbed by the “Chazzan” whining every word loud where you could barely “Daven B’yichidus” due to the distraction he was causing. I looked around the room at the over one hundred people present. Everyone there withdrew into their own world, or at least tried to. This was a large Tzibur praying without a Minyan. The so-called Chazzan caused this though I am sure, believing that he was inspiring everyone to great heights.
If you don’t know the Nusach, stay away from the “Omud” or you will be responsible for a Minyan “Davening” practically Biyichidus and causing Tzar (suffering) to people. Go learn the Nusach, listen to it. Bring a tape recorder to Shul during the week and go home and learn it, but don’t torture your fellow Jew.
I hope BE”H to write another article in the near future explaining what Nusach Hatfilah is, and how it has developed over the course of history to what it is today.
He found a room in a remote part of the city hoping not to be recognized and thereby to save himself. Being armed with false papers, Chaim claimed to have come from the south of Hungary looking for work. Most of the neighbors paid little attention to him except for one young man by the name of Laszlo. He seemed to always be looking suspiciously at Chaim. When Chaim tried to make conversation with Laszlo, he became very evasive and defensive. He made Chaim feel very uneasy. Fearing that this man might be onto him, Chaim decided to look for another place to live. One day he noticed that he was being followed by that man and quickly went into a crowd to loose him. Yet, something about him didn’t seem sinister.
Chaim concluded that this man was either a Nazi informant, or another Jew also in hiding, but how can he find out which it was? They kept eyeing each other uneasily. One day there was a heat wave and the occupants of the building remained outside until late into the evening. Chaim, not wanting to get into unnecessary conversations with the other tenants, remained in his room despite the stifling heat. Late that evening, Chaim noticed from his window that all the other tenants had gone to their apartments, except for Laszlo, who was still out in the front of the building smoking a cigarette.
Chaim decided that this was an opportune moment to try something. He went downstairs and stood within earshot of Laszlo. Chaim began to whistle the tune of Kol Nidray. If Laszlo was indeed a non-Jew, it would mean nothing to him, but if he was Jewish, there would be an immediate recognition. Laszlo looked at Chaim as if stunned and began to also whistle. Both had tears in their eyes. Laszlo then said “Oich a yid” (also a Jew). Laszlo then told Chaim how frightened he was of Chaim, thinking that he might be a Nazi informant.
As Jews we feel a strong connection with other Jews because of many factors. Though we may come from different countries, have different languages, or cultures, one of the strongest connections that tie us together, is our music, particularly our synagogue music. The Kol Nidray night with its haunting melody is part of what makes us feel Jewish. No matter what Synagogue, in any country in the world we might be, we pray with the same melody. A Jew from Boro Park can walk into a Shul in London, Jerusalem, Melbourne or any other city in the world and immediately recognize the “Davening” and join in as if he had prayed there all his life. What makes this possible? The answer is, the age old Nusach Hatfilah, the musical mode and familiar chant of the Shliach Tzibur. This is what allows any Ashkenazi Jew, no matter where he is from or what cultural background he has, to be completely familiar with the “Davening” wherever he may be and on a Yor Tzait or CH”V in “Availus”, to act as the Shliach Tzibur.
Unfortunately there are many people that are not proficient enough in the “Nusach” to act as the Shliach Tzibur, yet unabashedly walk over to the “Omud” and attempt to lead the services. They are doing a great disservice to everyone present without realizing it. If the Shliach Tzibur knows the Nusach, you will always hear the loud voice of the whole congregation joining together in the “Davening”. One immediately gets a feeling of oneness “K’ish Echad B’leiv Echad” (all become as one person with a singular heart). This gathering of people becomes truly one Minyan praying together with enthusiasm. Yet, when someone who has no business acting as a Shliach Tzibur attempts to do what he is unable, there is generally a deathly silence in the Shul. The Minyan comes together only by Kaddish, Kidusha and Borchu. Other than that, it is many people in one room, “Davening Biyichidus”(as separate individuals) as if without a Minyan.
This is particularly a problem when one is considered a “Chiyuv” such a mourner who attempts to do what he doesn’t know how to do. As in the story where a mourner upon completion of the services was approached by the Rabbi and told, “when your father passed away he made you into a “Yasom” (an orphan) but he didn’t make you into a Chazzan.
In short if one wants to act as the Shliach Tzibur during the weekdays, or for Mincha on Shabbos one doesn’t need a good voice, but must know the Nusach. Otherwise instead of creating a Minyan, he destroys the Minyan.
I recently “Davind Shachris”, in a well-known “Minyan Factory”, in New York City on a weekday. A Chassidic looking man, even more, a Rebbish looking man occupied the Omud. He began immediately whining in a high voice and saying every word loud. The whining didn’t have even the remotest resemblance to “Nusach”, however the gentleman certainly prayed with great devotion. Though there where well over one hundred people present, throughout this torture, there was a deathly silence in a Shul where one normally hears the loud Rinah Utfilah (the sound of a multitude praying melodiously together). Not only one couldn’t join in, but ones Kavanah was totally disturbed by the “Chazzan” whining every word loud where you could barely “Daven B’yichidus” due to the distraction he was causing. I looked around the room at the over one hundred people present. Everyone there withdrew into their own world, or at least tried to. This was a large Tzibur praying without a Minyan. The so-called Chazzan caused this though I am sure, believing that he was inspiring everyone to great heights.
If you don’t know the Nusach, stay away from the “Omud” or you will be responsible for a Minyan “Davening” practically Biyichidus and causing Tzar (suffering) to people. Go learn the Nusach, listen to it. Bring a tape recorder to Shul during the week and go home and learn it, but don’t torture your fellow Jew.
I hope BE”H to write another article in the near future explaining what Nusach Hatfilah is, and how it has developed over the course of history to what it is today.