Temple Shalom Sermons

Chaos and Order within the Liturgy
Shabbat Shira
January 25, 2002
by Dr. Hazzan Ramón Tasat

First, allow me to dedicate this moment of study to Miriam Ester bat Shim’on ve Shoshana, the beautiful new born girl of Rabbi Shim’on Hirschhorn and Hazzanit Natasha Jitomirskaia Hirschhorn. Like Miriam the prophetess and like her mother Natasha may her life be surrounded by music. Like her father Shim’on may she grow surrounded by God. That is my prayer.

Natan Zakh wrote:

Jewish heritage clearly recognizes the role and importance of music, as this particular Shabbat is called Shabbat Shira, this Sabbath of Song.

From the bimah I can see each congregant and at the same time I get the perspective of the whole congregation. Many times I have looked at all of you that chose to come to our Temple instead of watching TV, or going to the theater and wondered what brought you here. I have stumbled searching for the way to reach you so those religious services will provide you the spiritual sustenance you were seeking.

So, the questions pile up:

• What are we really seeking?
• What do we want to take home?
• What did we bring to this sacred space?

Last Shabbat morning I shook the hand of an old man before services and in order to say something I wished him to "have a good time." He looked at me and replied: "I thought we came to pray." I was and I am still speechless. I hope that his words will be with me every time I open the siddur.

We know we have to come to Shabbat services but not very sure why or for how long. Judaism in general and prayer in particular are not an exclusive Shabbat activity from 8-9.30 p.m. on Friday night. We tend to consider prayer almost like a separate entity that lasts one and a half-hours, like a locked compartment in our lives.

We question prayer because we, believers of efficiency and precision, do not believe that prayer can capture the depths of our needs, that can express the extent of our loneliness. Sometimes we grow impatient, sometimes exasperated, waiting for a precious heavenly sign that may prove us wrong.

We seem to affirm that the statements written in the siddur and/or the Torah belong to another time, that its language is foreign to us. Overwhelmed, we sit down passively looking at the siddur, the prayer book and hoping that perhaps a Sinai-like moment of striking lightning will illuminate our lives. Often, perhaps too often, we dare to look at our glorious watches as if saying arrogantly: It is not enough that I want a miracle to happen but I want it quickly or please give me my money back.

So, it is imperative that we confront some hard truths and transmit them to our children as well:

1) Are we ready if the miracle strikes? Prayer is not easily accessible; it will be empty and shallow, unless we offer ourselves. It is the fault of the clergy to sometimes take the easy road and appease a tired crowd with easy formulas. Yes, we should not offer our congregants easy ways out because tomorrow will find them disappointed and in disbelief. How many times have we heard congregants say: "I want a more dynamic service, less boring" as if I were to have the power of opening his heart. Remember, for the success of a party a cake is not enough, you need somebody willing to blow the candles with enthusiasm.

2) The power of prayer only becomes evident through perseverance. Yes, like every meaningful thing in life meaningful prayer requires at least two things: Continuity and TIME. It is through cracking the hard surface of our sacred texts that we begin to understand some of their enormous beauty and mystery. Rabbi Marshall Meyer (may he be of blessed memory) advised me before my first Rosh Hashanah pulpit to always listen to the elders of the congregation: "they have lived and prayed many more years than you have."

3) Unless we take time outside religious services to study our sacred literature, it is unlikely that we will be able to capture some of its meaning. Don’t have false expectations; it doesn’t matter how much time we spend during services to explain the liturgy. I assure you that this liturgy is so rich and vast that it simply won’t do the trick.

After saying all this it seems to me that there are things than can be done to create a more prayerful atmosphere. Let’s look for a moment to the configuration of our sanctuary. No wonder that you may expect great things from this Hazzan and the Rabbi. The location of the bimah gives us the false impression that the R & H are at the heart of prayer and maybe, closer to God and to the Torah than anyone else. This is not true.

The Rabbis' main function is to teach (their sermons are supposed to elucidate points of Jewish Law, trying to clarify passages from the Torah, etc.)

The Hazzans should:

1) Be cognizant of the different liturgical practices and bring the congregation together, from a liturgical point of view, when needed.

2) They also need to use the proper nusah for each occasion, that is, the musical motifs that we associate with the different seasons of the Jewish calendar.

3) They should know the prayers inside out, that is, the proper pronunciation, to have clear diction and also a deep understanding of their meaning so they can convey it whether leading the congregation in singing or chanting on their own.

Notice that I never mentioned a great voice as a critical criterion to achieve this work. Prayer is not a musical performance and is not a game with winners or losers. Prayer implies the awareness that we are all together in this enterprise.

Prayer and singing are similar in so many ways. They can transform you. When we pray our voice ascends, always searching for other worlds. It does not always happen but who knows? If you put all your senses into it, tonight can be the night when you feel a connection with the Divine. Don’t take it lightly.

In the act of prayer sometimes we’re on our own but we’re never alone. If we’re spectators and not active participants of this sacred experience we may perceive an apparent cacophony, a strange dissonance that a priori, might turn us off. We will observe people mouthing different words at different times, at different speeds, with more or less conviction and find it awkward. Sadly, we may not realize that this cacophony is the salt of life. After all, in our daily lives we don’t expect everyone to behave and say the same things at exactly the same time. Why do we expect it at services? To be on the same page all together all the time may appear to some as a sign of order. I would argue that if the prayer mirrors life, as it should in order to be effective, chaos is as necessary as order is and perhaps more so.

After all, we learn at the very beginning of the book of Bereshit that God created the world out of tohu va vohu, unformed and void, that is, chaos.

Going back to the Shira, the song at the Sea I have chanted a few moments ago, you can tell that it is not a solo; it has a responsive element to it. As you heard, certain verses (Ex. 15:1, 2, 3, 6, 11, 16, 18 & 21) are chanted with a different musical motif. Looking at the song it is clear to me that most likely Moshe chanted some of the lines and the children of Israel responded. This is what we call in music antiphonal. Extrapolating from this example we realize that each part of the liturgy is treated in a different way. The Hazzan doesn’t sing or chant every passage on his own and not every passage should be congregational singing. This becomes clear during the Hatzi Kaddish (which by the way, has more melodies than the one we use at our services but that’s the topic of a different discussion) when the Hazzan reminds us of the greatness of God and we answer: Yehe Sheme..
.

Or the Kedusha, the sanctification where the congregation participates during the passages sung by the angels. Sometimes we sing all together, at times we listen and drink up some glorious musical metaphors that hopefully the Hazzan is able to get across.

Some parts are read aloud and some are recited in a soft voice as in the Amidah. Sometimes the Hazzan chants the beginning of a Psalm and lets congregants continue on their own. When he senses that almost everyone has finished, he wraps it up chanting the final line of the Psalm so after a moment of privacy we’re altogether again.

That’s right-- prayer is sometime private because you have personal thoughts, dreams, fears that you want to share with God and you’re not interested in letting everyone know.

As I said, everyone is vital in the art of prayer because God cares deeply for each of us. This is how I know: Every Shabbat we recite the Pesukei deZimra (Verses of Praise) Tehillim 147 as part of the introductory service. Verse 4 reads:

Mone mispar la kokhavim, God reckoned the number of the stars.
Le khulam Shemot yik’ra,To all (each of them) God gave (will give) a name.

This verse can be interpreted in at least two ways:

1) For those that look at the sky and have the impression that the stars are infinite, know that they are not and that God knows each one by their name.

2) You can also understand this pasuk in connection to the promise God gave to Abraham (Bereshit 15:5) when Abraham feared that his end was close and God have granted him no offspring

We are that offspring; you are one of those stars. Each of us has a name and God knows it. After all, to have a name makes us unique in this precious cosmos. Like no one else, with a unique voice. So, take your time when you pray and don’t worry if you don’t turn the page of the siddur with everyone else. After all, you never turn the pages of your life at the same hour anyone else does. If somebody tells you, even if it sounds like a joke (trust me it never is!) that your voice is not good enough to converse with God, to sing praises to the Creator of the universe remember, take to heart the words of the Sefer haHassidim (XIII c.):

You should never say: "My voice is not agreeable... Speaking this way, you complain against the Holy One who did not make your voice beautiful. There is nothing that induces Man to love his Creator and to enjoy his love more that the voice raised to an extended tune... If you are unable to add something to the prescribed tefillah, pick out a melody that is beautiful and sweet to your ears. Offer up your prayers in such tune, and it will be full of kavannah, (of profound intention) and your heart will be enchanted by the utterings of your mouth..."

Dr. Hazzan Rámon Tasat is Temple Shalom's Cantor.

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