I always loved to sing. From the time I was four years old, I went to synagogue with my older brother, and the tunes of the shabbat morning service were swimming around in my head well before I learned to read the words. I went to Camp Ramah and enthusiastically embraced the singing culture, memorizing the words to the songs for the Zimriah – music festival – and for the blessing after each meal. I desperately wanted to lead the Birkat Hamazon – grace after meals – on shabbat because it was the long version, and on occasion I was thrilled to have this honor.
When I was 11 years old, my parents took us on a ski trip to Switzerland. The slopes were above the tree line, steep and seemingly endless. The mountains were beautiful, but scary. To allay my fears, I sang as I skiied and was able to calm myself even during those steep descents. Later, as an adult, on more than one bike tour as I was riding down a mountain, I sang my way to the bottom. Everyone thinks the ascent is the struggle – it is actually the descent that is difficult, the uphill is tough but the downhill can be terrifying. Singing helped me get through these fears – and down to the bottom.
I never thought I had a good voice. I did not try out for the plays at camp, even though I wanted to, because I was afraid I would not be able to carry a tune or that my voice was inadequate. Yet, when I studied for my Bat-Mitzvah, I learned to chant the Haftorah and discovered that I could sing in tune and with confidence. I had found a way to express myself in song!
These days our shul is filled with music, prayers, chanting, traditional and modern songs every shabbat and on the holidays. Although the Hebrew prayers may be difficult to access for some, music is there for all to join in. No prior knowledge or experience necessary. Some congregants in our synagogue have said they do not feel comfortable with Hebrew prayers, words they cannot understand and rituals with which they may not be familiar. Yet, music connects us to the prayers whether or not one knows or understands the Hebrew. Music is truly a universal language.
When I sit in shul and feel the music around me and raise my voice in song, I feel part of our community, no matter the words. And when I see others with their eyes closed swaying to the rhythm of the music, I know they feel that same sense of connection. Even if the Hebrew is difficult, the melody is there for all to access by singing or humming or swaying or whistling. The music often continues beyond the printed words with humming or singing without words. The melodies make the prayer services come alive for all of us.
I recently re-read “Daniel and the Silver Flute” by Gerald C. Ruthen and discussed it with the 10-12 year olds at the Yom Kippur children’s service. The book is about a boy– “Daniel” who could not learn his letters but knew how to do many other things well, including playing beautiful melodies on his recorder. The climax of the book occurs when Daniel, frustrated by his inability to read the printed words in the Machzor, pulls out his recorder and plays a long and plaintive note in the middle of the solemn Yom Kippur service. Although the congregation is aghast, the wise Rabbi recognizes that Daniel’s note was played from the heart and was a sacred prayer offering. The community embraces him and rejoices in his courage to allow his feelings to burst forth by playing his recorder. The lesson we learn from Daniel is that prayer comes in many forms, all of which are meaningful.
I am reminded of a childhood song:
Hayamin cholefim, shana overet (2x)
Aval haman-ginah le’olam nish’eret.
The days are passing, the year is passing
But the melody always remains
But the melody stays forever.
The melody is here for our embrace. Let all of us join in and sing together as a community.
next three months taking care of her two grandsons full time.She lives with her husband, Ken Bannerman, in West Orange, New Jersey.
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Judy, I can totally relate with this. I never knew what the words meant but the chanting always brought me peace.
Although I don’t ski and can’t relate to that example, I know exactly what you mean. One of my favorite synagogue memories is sitting next to my father and singing the prayers together.
I add a lot of singing to my ESL classes and one student told me she feels BEAUTIFUL when she sings.
By the way, the first picture is priceless!