Hazzan Dulkin

As American Jews, we are constantly wringing our hands over numbers. Demographically, the number of affiliated Jews in the country is down. We are getting married and having children later in life, which leads to an overall lower birth rate. More and more young people are not joining synagogues because, while they may be spiritually oriented and identify as Jews, they feel no compunction to express their Judaism in a community. In St. Louis, the number of children in religious school has plummeted, as has the number of affiliated Conservative Jews. There is enough bad demographic news to get anyone down, but as you may know, our synagogue has experienced an overall growth. Our numbers are up just the slightest bit, giving a ray of hope in the gloom-and-doom of Jewish demographics.

Whenever we hold a program, its success is most easily measured in numbers: how many people came? How many people decided to come to shul today? If there wasn’t a huge crowd, then the program was not successful. It is easy to fall into this trap, that numbers equal success – and in many ways numbers do indicate success: the more people, the more resources. But I would argue that numbers are not the only determinant of a community’s vibrancy.

At the community tikkun (all-night study session) for Shavuot, the numbers were a little down from last year, when the holiday fell on a weekend. A few people expressed their disappointment that more people hadn’t shown up. But the programming was fantastic, and the people there were engaged. We had a record number of congregations participating and clergy teaching, spanning the denominational spectrum. The food was excellent, the program well-organized, and all who participated received great value not only from the teaching itself but from the synergy of collaboration. The people who were there, the ones who did show up, experienced something special. The skies must have opened right over our shul to reveal the beautiful Torah that was being lived and learned under our roof that night. The same goes for our Shabbat Rinah services: people remark to me now and then that they think more people should come to experience our Friday night musical service. “Why don’t we have 500 people every time?” they ask. While I am all for maximum promotion of worthy events, there is something very special about squeezing 100+ people in the chapel and singing our hearts out together on a Friday night. The sound is incredible from all angles, whether a cappella or with accompaniment, and the bodies and voices filling up a smaller space make the service more intimate, and the same amount of voices singing in the sanctuary would feel a bit cavernous. When we do manage to fill the sanctuary, there is a similar effect. But many of our regular Friday night service-goers comment that while they would welcome a larger crowd, they really like the more intimate feel of the chapel.

Playing the numbers game can get us down easily, but don’t forget that we are a thriving synagogue despite an overall downturn in national numbers: our DorWays young member group has a membership of fifty families; our award-winning youth groups received regional awards for the largest increase in membership, our Adult Education program is booming, and even the number of sponsored Kiddushim on Shabbat is up. But when we take a step away from numbers and focus on quality of experience, we see even more vibrancy and cause for celebration: the people who are attending a DorWays event, a Kadima or USY event, an Adult Education class, a community tikkun, or a Shabbat Rinah service are receiving tremendous benefit, whether spiritually, intellectually, socially, or in the case of kiddush, gastronomically! In many cases, enthusiasm breeds enthusiasm, which translates into greater numbers. But enthusiasm also breeds a desire to belong, to benefit, to contribute, and to deepen commitment. What if we started measuring our success with a greater emphasis on quality and impact? Instead of asking “how many people came to X or Y program?” ask instead: How energizing was the program? How meaningful? What new connections and commitments will come as a result? How has each participating family grow in observance, knowledge and understanding after attending an event or service at the synagogue? And, most importantly, have we effectively communicated how important is to prioritize “doing Jewish” in the midst of all our busy lives? How did we establish or maintain a meaningful connection to Jewish identity or community? From this perspective, the work of the synagogue (or any Jewish institution) is not about the large numbers: it’s about changing priorities and infusing Jewish life into each household, one at a time. Asking these questions also changes the nature of how we program, and pushes us to envision quality and impact outcomes from the outset.

I wish you all a happy reflective, and relaxing summer.

Back in December, I sent a letter to the entire membership of our congregation asking you to support the Cantors Assembly, the largest organization of Hazzanim in the world, of which I am a member, and sit on the Executive Council.  So many of you responded to this letter, and your generosity was unsurpassed: I was able to raise almost $1800 for the organization, mostly through many modest donations.  I just returned from our annual Convention in New York, where, at our annual meeting, I joined several of my colleagues in announcing our fundraising efforts to the entire membership. Thank you again for your contributions, and know that you continue to inspire me in my work.

At the Cantors Assembly convention this year, there was a preview of the new High Holiday prayerbook (machzor) that has been in the works for over eight years.  The machzor that we use for our High Holiday services was created in 1972, second edition 1978 by the Rabbinical Assembly. It is the updated version of the 1946 and 1964 siddurim, and the first edition of a Machzor for the entire Conservative Movement.  Forty years later, a new Machzor, entitled Lev Shalem (complete heart) is finally a reality.  If you are interested in previewing the book, the easiest way to do so is to Google “Machzor Lev Shalem.” The editors write:

Mahzor Lev Shalem was composed and edited with a conscious awareness of the diverse backgrounds and expectations in each of our communities and, as such, it promises to open doors for every congregant. For the congregant who is familiar with the tefillah, the mahzor’s running commentary presents both a historical overview and insight into the meaning of prayers. For the congregant who doesn’t know Hebrew, the English translations are close to the meaning of the original and the transliterations are plentiful. For the seeker who comes to services looking for meaning and direction, the mahzor’s rich ­assortment of readings includes classic piyyutim that appear in Conservative publications for the first time; Hasidic stories and reflections; and quotes from Abraham Joshua Heschel, Martin Buber, contemporary Israeli and American poets, and leading rabbis in the Conservative movement and beyond.

In cooperation with the Cantors Assembly, the Rabbinical Assembly collaborated to commission new musical works for the machzor.  Ten composers who are part of the Conservative movement were asked to write new melodies for the High Holidays, including Craig Taubman, Josh Nelson, Gerald Cohen, Brian Gelfand, David Burger, and…your own Hazzan! At the beginning of last month, I was part of a very special concert at New York’s Park Avenue Synagogue to debut the new music, which I have made available to you at the synagogue website.  My fellow composers wrote new tunes to Hayom, V’al Kulam Eloah S’lichot, Hayom Harat Olam, Rachamana, Ki Hiney KaChomer and others.  My two pieces are “B’sefer Chayyim” and “Luleh He’emanti,” recorded with our own Jeremy Shanas and Eli Palnick, otherwise known as the Northwoods (RFT’s best new band of St. Louis 2009).  The first piece, B’sefer Chayyim, implores God to write us in the book of life, blessing, sustenance, and peace.  The second piece, Luleh He’emanti, comes from the Psalm we say every day between the first of Elul and Shemini Atzeret – Psalm 27 – that ends with the words: Mine is the faith that I will surely see God’s goodness in the land of the living.  Hope in God and be strong.

The new music was commissioned to breathe new life into the ancient words of our Machzor, recently renewed with contemporary commentary and poetry.  We were asked to write accessible congregational melodies that would both be fresh and new, yet reflect the spirit and sound of the High Holidays.  I commend the Rabbinical Assembly and their Machzor committee on finishing this formidable project.  The decision to forge a creative partnership with the Cantors Assembly to commission new music should also be commended, and encouraged for the future.  If our movement is going to be strengthened further, it is because of these types of partnerships “across the bima” and across organizations to create new and exciting opportunities for creative expression. It is my hope that this type of creative collaboration will continue, and it was my privilege to have been part of it.

May the onset of summer be full of new possibilities for us all!

Jews gather together in community to mourn and to celebrate: it is a unique piece of our tradition that speaks to our need to be with each other in times of our greatest sorrow and joy. The kaddish, for example, only can be recited by an individual when he or she is standing with nine others in a minyan. Why? Because that person, who has experienced a great loss, must be with others and not cut themselves off from the community at their most vulnerable time.

So too, with simchas, happy occasions – celebrating our new babies, marriages, and B’nai Mitzvah, our confirmations and graduations: they are to be acknowledged in community, with blessings of thanksgiving and the words from our tradition, “Siman Tov u’Mazal Tov” – a good sign and good luck for us and all Israel!

A Jewish bride and groom are married underneath a chuppah, a canopy, that is open on the sides to symbolize the Jewish home the couple will build together, open to guests, family and friends. The couple stands underneath the chuppah surrounded by their parents and loved ones. Here at Shaare Zedek, we use a large tallit as a chuppah to celebrate and bless all of our s’machot (simchas). At a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, for example, Rabbi Fasman and I give the Priestly Blessing to the student while his or her parents and close family members hold each the corners of the tallit. Not just the family, but the community participates in the emotion of the blessing – and anyone who has been there can attest to the power of the moment: a family, framed by the Ark, holding a canopy together as blessing is given and received on all sides. What else makes it powerful? Because this moment, charged with emotion, fiercely reminds us of how we are all connected.

The chuppah, for our community, is a multi-purpose “blessing shelter” – a physical representation of both God’s sheltering presence and the community’s embracing arms. The liturgy for the bedtime Sh’ma describes the protecting angels Gavriel, Michael, Uriel and R’fael stationed around us in front, behind, and to our left and right, and concludes with the words “and all around us is the Shechina, the presence of God.” There are many images of God as protector in our texts: God making a shelter of peace, God’s embracing arms, God as comforter and constant companion.

Last Rosh Hashana, all of our youngest members came on to the bima for a special blessing, along with their families. These families make up our DorWays chavurah, and the leadership of this group has come up with a wonderful project for our entire Shaare Zedek community to continue to celebrate our happy occasions together: we are embarking on the construction of a Community Chuppah – an enormous canopy made up of individual “simcha squares” made by our families. This Community Chuppah will hopefully be a permanent piece of art displayed in the shul when it’s not being used for baby namings, B’nai Mitzvah, aufrufs, anniversaries, and other happy occasions. On Sunday morning May 16 the DorWays group will gather to kick off the summer season and begin work on what will be a beautiful “garment” for our entire community. If you have any further questions about the project, please let me know!

This month, we celebrate the yin-and-yang holidays of Yom Ha’zikaron (Israeli Memorial Day) and Yom Ha’atzma-ut (Israeli Independence day): they literally come on each other’s heels: out of the somber mood of Memorial Day comes the jubilation and triumph of Independence Day. If you have ever been in Israel for these twin commemorations and celebrations, you know that not one person in the country is untouched by Memorial Day. It is most certainly not a day of shopping for furniture and getting good deals on spring sportswear: the barbeques are saved for the following day of celebration and everyone, everyone, has someone to mourn. The evening of Memorial Day gives way to jubilant celebration, complete with dance, song, and Israeli flags flown highly and proudly – the country moves on publicly from tears to joy.

The juxtaposition of these two holidays has always struck me as emblematic of what it means to be Israeli: to live in the tension between terror and hope, optimism and realism, complications and triumphs. The state’s very existence is a miracle of historical and diplomatic proportions; and, in these still-early years of the state, it continues to face extinction. Yet if you ask most Israelis, whether their roots are in Eastern and Western Europe, Africa, North or South America, they would not want to live anywhere else.

In 2008, when we celebrated the 60^th year of the state of Israel, a very special piece of music was made, the fruits of a very unlikely collaboration between the Gevatron, a traditional Israeli singing troupe with roots in the early Chalutznik/Kibbutznik movement, and Kobi Shimoni, Israel’s top hip-hop impresario otherwise known as “Subliminal.” The song, “Bat Shishim” (60 years old) combines these two unlikely sounds to produce a musical phenomenon. If you want to take a peek at the current sentiment and identity of today’s Israelis, this song tells you all you need to know. The chorus reads: “Because she’s true, she’s not a symbol, she’s not just a flag, nor a sign: the past is behind and she watches for what’s coming up.” The pairing of a musical institution like the Gevatron with Shimoni is like the Andrews Sisters recording a CD with Eminem; or Kanye West re-interpreting one of the songs by Peter, Paul and Mary. It simply would not happen here, but it absolutely does in Israel, all the time.

The song, originally recorded by the Gevatron in the 1970’s about an aging woman, has been re-interpreted and expanded upon by Shimoni to reflect on 60 years of Israeli-ness. “She” is no longer an aging woman, but a young and still-emerging state of Israel. The lyrics capture exactly the tension and the miracle of what it means to be an Israeli today, of the hope for a completely safe country, of the pride in its intake of olim (immigrants), of the vibrant Jewish culture (he even gives a few Mazal tovs and Chiri-biri-bims), and reminds us to never forget where we came from, or we won’t go anywhere. The kids at Camp Ramah were dancing to this all summer, participating in the celebration of Israel’s statehood while grooving to its infectious rhythm.

As we gather to celebrate Israel this month, please take a moment to kvell at the many musical and cultural fruits of its now 62-year history. If you have a moment, find the music video on YouTube (just search for “bat shishim), and marvel as you listen that there really is no place in the world like Israel.

We learn about the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests, from the story in Genesis of Abraham and Sarah, who welcomed three angels to their home. They ran to fetch food and water for their guests, and gave them shade in their tent. These three visitors were not your ordinary wandering type. It turned out that they had news that Abraham and Sarah would, at their advanced ages, become parents of a great nation. But it is a powerful lesson about hospitality: those we invite into our homes for food and drink may appear to be ordinary people, but could be agents (angels) of the Holy One.

The ultimate hosting opportunity presents itself at Pesach, the most widely-celebrated Jewish ritual in the world. Across the world at the end of this month, families open their homes to relatives, friends and acquaintances to share song, prayer, discussion, laughter, and of course – food!

Hospitality over Shabbat and holidays is a particularly difficult mitzvah to fulfill these days given everyone’s busy lives. As the world becomes smaller through the world of the internet and news media, in our homes we unwittingly become more sealed off than ever, especially from our neighbors. Luckily for us, St. Louis is a remarkably friendly city, and Shaare Zedek an even more friendly congregation. It is because of this that our Ruach Am’cha music innovation project is centered on the homes of our host families: The Asher, Befeler/Ivener, Belsky, Birenbaum, Engel, Goldfarb, Singer, and Small families, who have agreed to host Ruach Am’cha celebrations in their homes through the summer, will hopefully serve as models for our congregation at large. They have committed to opening their home six times over seven months to an Ambassador and guests, to celebrate Shabbat with song, ruach, prayer, and (because we’re Jews, you guessed it) food! While the main objective of the Ruach Am’cha home celebrations is to employ the home as the ultimate place for learning how to “do Jewish” and to “do Shabbat” – it is also our aim to have our guests learn how to host. It is at the Shabbat (or seder) table that relationships are developed and solidified. It is the Jewish version of a dinner party. As the year progresses, it is our hope that a wider base of our congregants will open their homes to host festive Shabbat and holiday celebrations, and to create a culture of hachnasat orchim – home hospitality – within our congregation.

This Pesach, I encourage you to invite someone new to your seder table. Perhaps it is the people you see at Friday night services who sit a few rows behind you. You’ve exchanged pleasantries but never had the chance to really talk. Maybe it’s the Jewish co-worker that also took time off for the holidays, or a family from your child’s class at school. It could be the friends you’ve been meaning to get together with but haven’t been able to find the time.

This is the month to plan your hachnasat orchim, to be like Abraham and Sarah, who welcome the three angels into their home who change their lives forever. Maybe your guests will not change your lives in such a dramatic way, but know that the conversation, singing, and spirit of a Shabbat or festival meal is more than just food. The entire occasion is shaped and changed by the personalities and life experiences of each guest, who has a unique contribution, literally, to bring to the table.

We learn about the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests, from the story in Genesis of Abraham and Sarah, who welcomed three angels to their home. They ran to fetch food and water for their guests, and gave them shade in their tent. These three visitors were not your ordinary wandering type. It turned out that they had news that Abraham and Sarah would, at their advanced ages, become parents of a great nation. But it is a powerful lesson about hospitality: those we invite into our homes for food and drink may appear to be ordinary people, but could be agents (angels) of the Holy One.

The ultimate hosting opportunity presents itself at Pesach, the most widely-celebrated Jewish ritual in the world. Across the world at the end of this month, families open their homes to relatives, friends and acquaintances to share song, prayer, discussion, laughter, and of course – food!

Hospitality over Shabbat and holidays is a particularly difficult mitzvah to fulfill these days given everyone’s busy lives. As the world becomes smaller through the world of the internet and news media, in our homes we unwittingly become more sealed off than ever, especially from our neighbors. Luckily for us, St. Louis is a remarkably friendly city, and Shaare Zedek an even more friendly congregation. It is because of this that our Ruach Am’cha music innovation project is centered on the homes of our host families: The Asher, Befeler/Ivener, Belsky, Birenbaum, Engel, Goldfarb, Singer, and Small families, who have agreed to host Ruach Am’cha celebrations in their homes through the summer, will hopefully serve as models for our congregation at large. They have committed to opening their home six times over seven months to an Ambassador and guests, to celebrate Shabbat with song, ruach, prayer, and (because we’re Jews, you guessed it) food! While the main objective of the Ruach Am’cha home celebrations is to employ the home as the ultimate place for learning how to “do Jewish” and to “do Shabbat” – it is also our aim to have our guests learn how to host. It is at the Shabbat (or seder) table that relationships are developed and solidified. It is the Jewish version of a dinner party. As the year progresses, it is our hope that a wider base of our congregants will open their homes to host festive Shabbat and holiday celebrations, and to create a culture of hachnasat orchim – home hospitality – within our congregation.

This Pesach, I encourage you to invite someone new to your seder table. Perhaps it is the people you see at Friday night services who sit a few rows behind you. You’ve exchanged pleasantries but never had the chance to really talk. Maybe it’s the Jewish co-worker that also took time off for the holidays, or a family from your child’s class at school. It could be the friends you’ve been meaning to get together with but haven’t been able to find the time.

This is the month to plan your hachnasat orchim, to be like Abraham and Sarah, who welcome the three angels into their home who change their lives forever. Maybe your guests will not change your lives in such a dramatic way, but know that the conversation, singing, and spirit of a Shabbat or festival meal is more than just food. The entire occasion is shaped and changed by the personalities and life experiences of each guest, who has a unique contribution, literally, to bring to the table.

Purim comes early this year: the end of this month coincides with the 13th of Adar, the day that Esther’s wit and patience saved the Jews of Shushan. Towards the end of the Megillah, the congregation reads a line together, then the reader repeats:

Lay’hudim haita ora v’simcha v’sasson vi’kar, keyn ti’h’yeh lanu! For the Jews, there was light, happiness, joy, and honor – may it be so for us! (8:16).

For us, the Hebrew month of Adar brings joy and silliness – we are commanded to rejoice once it arrives, and Esther, as the central figure in the Purim narrative, is an example of a leader that brings light to her people: light in the form of hope and salvation from a cruel edict.  We look to her example in hard times: someone whose power shone from within.  Esther knew how to “work the system” between her relationships with her Uncle Mordechai and her husband the King, who was able to overthrow Haman, and he was defeated through what we would call today “backroom deals.” While Haman issued his edict from on high, Esther negotiated his demise with a series of meetings and parties.  She teaches us not to underestimate the power of the relationship, especially today, when face-to-face conversations take place far less frequently.  Even phone calls have been supplanted by faceless conversations over email and social media like Twitter and (the ironically titled) Facebook.  Acquaintancebook doesn’t quite have the same ring.  We gather online with our Friends to chat, share pictures and accomplishments, rather than calling or writing, or meeting face-to-face.  It is certainly convenient, but does it qualify as relationship-building?  We all enjoy keeping tabs on our friends and friends-of-friends all over the world through social media, yet do we feel comfortable calling them to get together if we are in their area?  Or just calling to catch up?

Queen Esther, whose victory we celebrate as the days begin to feel longer and the beginning of spring approaches, is a light-bringer: one who was able to transform her reality and the reality of her people less through her official power as Queen and more through her unofficial power as a loving wife and niece.  May she inspire us to strengthen our relationships, maybe to call an old friend to catch up; and may she empower us to use the strength of our relationships to improve our lives and the lives of those around us.  May we find light, joy, honor and happiness this month, and may we share this blessing with all our loved ones, friends and acquaintances.

This month, as part of our Ruach Am’cha kickoff weekend, we will be incorporating two seemingly non-traditional spiritual practices into our Jewish observances of Shabbat. Since Ruach Am’cha aims to incorporate music into all aspects of synagogue life, this month we begin two new ways to incorporate music into our prayer life. The first is a chanting and meditation service, and the second is a drum circle. After this month, every second Shabbat morning and afternoon of the months to follow, we will fold these musical spiritual practices into Shabbat. Both of these practices serve to open our hearts in a new way, and both opportunities are conducted in a safe, non-judgmental environment, meant to be truly accessible to everyone, no matter where you fall in the “competency” spectrum regarding prayer, music or Hebrew. I say that drumming and chanting are “seemingly” non-traditional because both actually have deep roots in our tradition.
The word “chant” may perhaps invoke for you an Indian ashram, or a group of Buddhists, perhaps, but Jews? Since when do we chant? We actually chant every week, and have for centuries, the words of Torah and prophets, as part of our religious services. Hebrew sacred chant, or cantillation (trope), is the oldest form of Jewish music that exists. The Jewish musical canon is founded on the musical motifs found in our trope, and there are now countless geographical variations – a Moroccan will chant in a distinctly “middle eastern” mode while a European will chant in a more “western” mode. The idea of Hebrew sacred chant is not at all new in the context of Jewish prayer, either. The Jewish mystical tradition, going back to the medieval period, employed chant as an avenue for opening the soul and focusing kavannah (intention), in much the same way others use a niggun or a mantra. When we chant, we will take a word or phrase from a prayer, and a repetitive melody or few notes, and let those few words be our prayer, stand in for the whole paragraph or page. How many times have you wished that the Hebrew in services went by at a slower pace so that you could spend time on a passage or phrase of the Siddur? By focusing on one word of a psalm, prayer or Biblical passage, you imbue it with meaning, and the word, in turn, opens you up to new possibilities. Chant allows us to dwell in the space of a word or phrase, inhabiting it with intention and feeling. With fewer words to rush through, more time is taken for devotion – the heart of prayer. I invite you to join us at the upcoming meditation and chant service with Lynnsie Balk Kantor, our special guest leader, whom we are fortunate to have join us!
We are also extremely fortunate to have Adam Rugo join us on what will become a regular basis for our Ma’ariv and Havdallah drum circles. There is a tradition, called Melave Malka (escorting the Queen), where we “send off” the Shabbat Queen with song, dance and food, and in the process, she is enticed to stay a few more hours. Our drum circle will serve as a Melave Malka – a royal send-off to the Shabbat Queen. Adam will begin each drum circle with some instruction before the Ma’ariv and Havdallah service, and then we will drum our way through the end of Shabbat. Adam is a drum scholar, who has learned and taught drumming all over the world. He has a special knack for group-building through drumming, making both musicians and non-musicians feel welcome. We will be employing African and Middle Eastern beats to accompany Jewish tunes from around the world; just as our ancestors Miriam and Moses beat drums and shook timbrels, just as the Levites sang and played in the Temple – so we will continue the tradition of sacred percussion here at Shaare Zedek.
I invite you to take part in a new way to pray this month, whether it is quiet chanting or mediation, or the joyful noise of a drum circle – or both. May the turning of the year 2010 bring each of us closer to our people and to God, and may it bring us both quiet calm and joyful noise!

We strive to make Shabbat a time apart: whether this means setting aside time to light candles on Friday night, spending time with our loved ones, gathering at shul to daven or at homes to eat. We are obligated to rest and also to enjoy! Observance of Shabbat is not just about refraining from ordinary tasks and work; it is also about elevating what is regular to a new level of holiness.

Take the challah bread, for example, a beautiful, sweet, braided loaf that looks nothing like the sliced sandwich bread we use during the week. Indeed, the family dinner table becomes like an altar, where we display our best linen and china, make blessings over our food, ritually wash hands, and eat together as a family. Shabbat is also marked by special songs. In fact, singing is such an essential part of enjoying Shabbat that special poetic hymns were composed, both in Hebrew and Aramaic, as early as the 10^th century these hymns are called zemirot. In beautiful detail, they outline the glory of God, the sweetness of Shabbat rest, the beautiful and bountiful meals enjoyed on Shabbat, and the links throughout generations. Some have an acrostic format; others follow a repetition of words at lines beginning or end. Each zemer has a chorus that is returned to between verses, sung with gusto or melancholy, depending on the time of day. These zemirot are meant to be sung in the home, around Shabbat tables, which are often used for percussion!

In Tractate Shabbat 119b, the Talmud relates a now-familiar story: It was taught: Rabbi Yosi son of Rabbi Yehudah said: Two ministering angels accompany a man on Shabbat eve from the synagogue to his home. One is a good angel, the other an evil one. And when he arrives home and finds the lamp burning, the table laid, and the bed covered with a spread, the good angel exclaims, may it be even thus on another Shabbat too! and the evil angel unwillingly responds, Amen! But if not, the evil angel exclaims, May it be even thus on another Shabbat! and the good angel unwillingly responds, Amen!

This story brought forth the 17^th century kabbalistic poem Shalom Aleichem which we sing each Friday night. In the song, we welcome ministering angels of peace into our home, and then send them on their way. According to the kabbalists, not only was Friday night dinner guarded by angels, but all three Shabbat meals. If you imagine your Shabbat table full of angel-visitors, the Shabbat meal takes on a whole new shape! Why not please the angels with great food, great drink, and a great time? Festive singing around the Shabbat table builds a sense of joyful community. There is no pressure of performance, just the process of making informal music together. If the Hebrew or Aramaic is a barrier, the tune may not be, whether it is Sephardic, Italian, Eastern- or Western-European! And since the chorus is usually a refrain of the first verse of the zemer, the repetition helps.

The content and themes of the zemirotrange from rejoicing in the commandment to observe Shabbat (Yom Zeh Yisrael, Shimru Shabtotai, Ki Eshmera Shabbat, Yom Shabbaton), the miracle of creation (nucha Simcha) to a detailed Shabbat menu (from Mah Ydidut: to delight in all delicacies: fatted geese, quail and fish.) There is even a zemer(Tzur Mishelo) which begins with: let us bless the Rock from whose bounty we have eaten.The rest of the zemer reads like a Cliff notes of the Birkat Hamazon, touching on every bracha in the lengthy prayer after meals.

It is our goal, as part of our Ruach Amcha project, to bring Shabbat zemirot and joyous singing into many member homes and synagogue Shabbat meals as possible. To this end, we have been training our own cadre of musical ambassadors, members who are learning the art of leading Shabbat singing. The ambassadors, like the Talmudic angels described above, will be guests in their fellow members homes three times over five months, helping these host families to make Shabbat even more special for themselves and their invited guests. For the entire congregation, we also plan to hold singing after communal Shabbat dinners and Kiddush Saturday morning after shul, for a true experience of musical oneg Shabbat (enjoyment of Shabbat.) Rabbi Fasman will be putting together a scholarly explanation of the various zemirot that will be available to all, and CDs of zemirot will be available for purchase. If you are interested in any part of our Ruach Amcha project, (we are currently recruiting host families!) please contact me or Julie Friedman, Ruach Amcha Project Coordinator, at Julie@shaarezedek.org

I love niggunim – wordless melodies.After a service a number of years ago, at which I (as usual) incorporated many niggunim, a kid came up to me and called me a liar. A liar? I asked, racking my brain for what I had said. Yeah, he said, you know, because you go lai lai lai lai lai

Yes, I am a lai-er from way back. I collect tunes like some collect baseball cards, paper clips, or ceramic figurines. I have a library in my head of probably close to a hundred wordless melodies by now, and they pop into my head at all times of day or night. They function as mood- or tone-setters, spiritual set-dressers, focusing us on the simple act of kavannah, or devotion.

What is the point of the niggun? What is its power? And why do we need them, anyway? The Zohar, a seminal mystical text, tells us that In the highest heavens, there is a certain temple with gates that can be opened only by the power of song. As Hasidism developed and flourished in Eastern Europe during the 18th century, niggun was a powerful piece of the movement, which, guided by the Zohar and other mystical teachings, strove to cleave the soul to God at all times. If people didn’t know Hebrew, or the prayers, or even how to read, it was the niggun, with its simple syllables of oy yoy bam bam or lai lai that became the universal accessible instrument of prayer; a way of transcending earthly concerns and connecting to the divine. There are certain niggunim meant to inspire dveykut (cleaving), others to reach a state of ecstasy, and others to awaken the soul. Many are complex compositions in their own right, where, with each musical stanza, one is to achieve a higher level of ecstasy, cleaving, or awakening, then always, ultimately, the tune brings the supplicant back down to earth.

Niggunim set a mood for prayer much in the same way a piece of scenery on stage evokes a place or time. A few notes can evoke a memory or transport you to a different place. Niggun is an invitation to travel inward, to cease to focus on the siddur or the people around you, and simply be. A few syllables or notes, sung over and over, function like a mantra. An entire paragraph of prayer, or an entire bracha, become distilled into sound, breath, syllable: essence. The idea is, as one continues to sing a niggun, one becomes less and less self-conscious of what is immediately around them, and the tune itself, and begins to experience a deeper and more personal form of prayer.

In addition to being a companion to, or an enhancement of tefillot , niggunim are an accessible form of music for singers and non-singers alike, and can be used in a variety of contexts. Many niggunim are as accessible musically as they are linguistically, which makes them great community-builders. And niggunim are portable: no siddur, songsheet, or sheet music required! As a part of our Legacy Heritage Ruach Amcha project, everyone in the synagogue (and anyone outside the shul who subscribes) will become an automatic member of the niggun of the month club. Beginning in January, you will receive via email, a link to the niggun of the month, which you can play on your computer, burn to CD, and transfer to your iPods the idea is to use the niggun of the month during services, meetings, Religious School, Pre-school, at home, at work, and even while exercising! The following month, a new niggun will be released to the club and so on. At year’s end, a CD of all the niggunim will be available.

What would happen if we were all singing the same song, during the same period of time? Each niggun will become our monthly soundtrack in shul, at home, and out in the world. What else might happen? We will find out, come January. In the meantime, I look forward to the day when we all will become lai-ers.