Carlebach Tyranny [a rant]

The following is not a rant against Carlebach Minyanim. I dance (well, shuffle) at them. I have led them. I instituted them occasionally when I was a shul rabbi.

This is also not a rant against minyanim that run overtime, as Carlebach Minyanim do. In the name of spirituality and fervor, I am more than happy to offer up the ten or fifteen minutes of my time that these take.

This is a rant against Carlebach tunes.

When I hear recordings of R' Shlomo Carlebach singing, I hear energy and life, fervor and inspiration. All too often, though, when I hear shuls sing Kabbolas Shabbos to Carlebach tunes I hear dirges [as well as chazanim who aren't sure when to go to the high part, and minyanim that split between high and low].

I hear people singing this tune because it's the tune they are supposed to sing, not because they feel anything.

I hear some people naively trying to match the tune with the words and phrases of Tehillim, and others giving up and just going with the flow.

I hear people mumbling their way through because they have been drafted into this service unwillingly.

And I hear loads of voices not singing as well, because hearing the same tune, week after week, is anything but inspiring. [If Kol Nidrei was a weekly experience, people wouldn't find that traditional tune moving, either.]

This is not true of all shuls, of course, or of all chazanim. But it is true of enough of them that I am writing this. [It is NOT true of any chazanim I have heard in the past several weeks – I've been sitting on this post for quite a while, and it was triggered by an experience that was not in the shul I normally attend.]

So here is my recommendation, for chazanim who want to motivate their communities: Sing! Sing just the ends of the paragraphs or sing the entire paragraphs, sing solo or lead a conga line! But please, please – sing a different tune, not a Carlebach tune. Sing the lively tune you heard at a wedding. Sing something relevant to that time of year. Sing a tune you've made up yourself [but clue people in first, perhaps] – but please, please, when the urge comes upon you to impose Carlebach tyranny upon the tzibbur, ask yourself: Is this the most inspiring way I can lead my community?

Thank you.

Communal Representative, Personal Epiphany?

The sh'liach tzibbur - the leader of the community's prayers - faces a real challenge.

On one hand, the sh'liach tzibbur represents the community, and his prayers should be calibrated to match the community's needs. If people are in a rush to get to work, or if they are not accustomed to extended singing, or if it's Pesach night and they want to get home to start the Seder, he should not take his time and embark upon his own personal journey of spiritual and musical discovery, lest he frustrate the people and cause disgrace to the davening as they talk or leave. [Of course, rabbis are often cynical regarding cantorial song; see my 2009 post, "Cantors Behaving Badly", for an example.] And the reverse is true: if people are into singing, or they embrace a longer davening, he should not impose his own haste upon their pace.

On the other hand, the sh'liach tzibbur is still a private citizen, with a right to his own davening, and his own connection with Gd. Particularly when the sh'liach tzibbur is not a volunteer, but rather he agrees to lead services because no one else is available, he should not be denied the right to his own spirituality. If we may exercise an imagined right to impose upon him to lead, by what right do we remove his personal prayer?

And then there is a third hand: Perhaps the sh'liach tzibbur should be viewed as a leader, a source of inspiration, his music and his passion bearing the community aloft to spiritual heights even when they are not, initially, of such a mindset? Is he obligated to do so? And ought we to let ourselves go, abandoning our personal baggage and adopting the mood of the leader?


What do you think?

Is Artscroll's Assistance Anti-Semitic?

A frequent visitor to my shul in Allentown was wont to label ArtScroll "Anti-Semitic". His claim was straightforward: Siddurim and Chumashim offering copious instructions, simplified translations and Reader’s Digest commentary result in a dumbing-down of the Jewish community.

His comments remind me of my first experience leading a Rosh HaShanah minyan. I was guest-rabbi for an auxiliary minyan in a flagship Centrist Orthodox synagogue, and I was told that my job included announcing page numbers throughout the long chazarat hashatz (repetition of the amidah).

I asked my rebbe whether announcing pages might constitute an interruption in the davening, and he replied that it probably would constitute such an interruption; he felt that most people don’t really need the page number announcements.

Over the years since, though, I've learned that many people like those at that minyan, even with yeshiva education, really have needed page number announcements for parts of Rosh haShanah and Yom Kippur, and even for parts of the Shabbos davening.

And so I would myself over the years: Should I force them to figure out the page numbers themselves? Am I contributing to the collective dumbing-down by announcing pages for them?

As on so many issues, I think the answer is both Black and White.

It's Black: Some Jews need the page numbers, and won't follow the davening without them. For many under-educated Jews, the alternative to these boosts is to do nothing at all. If they were unable to follow, they would tune out. To take the “shul as a business” analogy I find useful on occasion: The demand for our product is not so great that we can afford to place hurdles before the consumer.

And it's White: For other Jews, this is a dumbing-down that keeps them from learning for themselves. The result of this calculation is that the least common denominator group gets its accessible davening, but the rest, who don’t really need that assistance, are not challenged to exceed themselves. This is not a good thing.

Still, I would suggest that there are other ways to challenge this group of Jews who do not need page numbers announced, who do not need simple translations, etc:
We can encourage them to work on their chesed and their understanding of כל ישראל ערבין זה בזה (the responsibility we have for each other) by finding ways to help their under-educated neighbors.
We can offer them advanced shiurim, dvar torah sheets, etc.
We can challenge them to set up chavrusas, with whom they will learn more than they could ever learn from a shiur (yes, even one of my vaunted shiurim).

I think the page numbers, translations and abridged commentaries must remain. To borrow from Vayyikra 25:25 - “If your brother should become impoverished and sell his inheritance, then his close relative shall come and redeem his brother’s sale.” Our brethren, by unavoidable circumstance or by sale or by incompetence, have lost their inheritance. It is our responsibility to redeem it and return it to them.

The Ritual Committee: Rabbinic Extender

The Ritual Committee, acting with the Rabbi and Gabai, if any, shall assist in the conduct of religious services and distribute honors.

(Standard synagogue by-laws)

A mentor of mine once told me that a Rabbi’s authority must extend beyond Halachic guidance, to Policy guidance. This seems most logical to me – many communal, synagogue and personal issues are not directly halachic, but would benefit from rabbinic insight.

Examples:
Communal - Allocation of community tzedakah funds.
Synagogue – Planning of Yom haShoah commemorations.
Personal - Co-ed slumber parties for teens.

There are two problems, though:
1. The Rabbi's influence, if brought to bear too often or without being invited, ceases to be influence at all. It becomes a nuisance, and is eventually ignored entirely.

2. On many of these Policy issues, people are personally invested. Therefore, every rabbinic stance is likely to offend someone. Multiply the issues, multiply the offenses.

So how is a rabbi to influence community, synagogue and individuals, without over-using his influence and without making enemies?

One answer: The Rabbinic Extender.
I've heard that a doctor’s support staff is called a “physician extender.” You know – the technicians who take your blood, the nurses who interview you when you come into the office, the physician’s assistant, etc.
The rabbi needs a “rabbinic extender” – someone who will do the job for him, to save his influence for the case in which it is truly needed.

For communal influence, the Rabbinic Extender may be in the person of insitutional board members he trusts.
For personal influence, there really may be no Rabbinic Extender.
For shul influence, enter the Ritual Committee – Rabbinic Extender extraordinaire.

When I first heard of a Ritual Committee, I thought the person was joking.
First, the term ritual is one I hate to use for davening; it connotes an academic coldness inappropriate for davening.
Second, why should anyone other than the rabbi decide what happens during davening?!

But over the years I have come to know better. As far as the first problem, get over it; people use the term “Ritual” and they like it. As far as the second problem, the good Ritual Committee is guided by the rabbi, but makes its own decisions, under its own name. And so, gone is the problem of the rabbi over-using his authority. And, gone is the problem of offending people with decisions; congregants who protest will be reminded that the congregants, themselves, made this decision, via a Board-appointed committee.

The Ritual Committee can decide whether to create a special minyan for a Sunday morning Bar Mitzvah.

The Ritual Committee can decide to encourage chazanim to sing more, or less, or to try new tunes or stick to the traditional ones.

The Ritual Committee can decide who holds the Sifrei Torah at Kol Nidrei.

Unless the issue is clearly and directly halachic, the rabbi can afford the ‘slight’ of having educated laypeople make the decision, in exchange for the benefits he receives.

And one more crucial benefit to having a good Ritual Committee: More people become invested in the davening and its coordination, so that they, and their circle of friends, feel closer to the shul and its operation.

Mind you, despite all of the benefits I generally remained uncomfortable with handing off this authority to a Ritual Committee, and I could do it only because I trusted my Ritual Chairs completely. But that’s the way of many responsibilities in life: If you want to survive with your health and happiness intact, find someone you can trust and then share the responsibility.

Come to minyan, get a free batting helmet!

In my 12 years in the pulpit, I served in two shuls, both of which went through times when we had difficulty ensuring our minyan. Certain times of year were harder than others – early winter afternoons for minchah/maariv, post-Succos and post-Pesach for Shacharis as men needed to make up for time taken off from work – and then other times were challenging because we needed to provide minyanim for shivah houses as well.

We tried various tactics to help build the minyan, including-
...asking people to pick specific days of the week to attend,
...running educational programs about the importance of minyan,
...offering kids “Torah Cards” and prizes for attending, and
...scheduling teen programming so that they would be in shul at the time we needed them.

Some suggested providing post-minyan food and drink, newspapers to read in a lounge before or after minyan, and so on. Some wanted to give dues discounts for those who supported the shul by coming to minyan. No different from what many shuls do.

It was hard, and draining. Spending time – sometimes daily, in my first shul – calling or emailing people to ask them to stop into shul for 35 minutes, for their own mitzvah, can really sap a rabbi’s energy. Here the rabbi is, spending his entire day and much of his night looking after the needs of individuals and institutions, and people can’t be bothered to help out the community, if not themselves, by coming to shul? The daily grind of it can really wear.

But here’s a thought I never tried: Imitate the strategy Bill Veeck pioneered in baseball, and create special Days or Nights appealing to special segments of the population. Perhaps there could also be sponsored giveaways, modeled on ballpark giveaways.

A quick search on-line turns up various kinds of ballpark giveaways: Bat day, Helmet day, Cap day, T-shirt day, Jersey day, Wristband day, Piggy bank day, Bobblehead day, Spatula day, Picture day, Autograph day, Beach towel day, Comic book day, Umbrella day, Reusable shopping bag day…

And then there are the days and nights dedicated to attracting a specific segment of the population: Children’s day, Ladies’ day, Star Trek night, Singles night, Legal Professionals night, Indian Heritage night, Irish Heritage night, Chinese Heritage night, Jewish Heritage night, Scout day and so on.

So why not do the same in shul?

There could be giveaways, sponsored by local businesses – books, sports memorabilia, trinkets, office supplies, etc.

And, perhaps better, there could be minyanim targeting specific segments of the population, with programming attached to suit their needs. Accountants Night, with a brief shiur, or even a secular class, on taxes. Children’s Day, of course, perhaps split up by grades. Lawyers, Physicians, Singles, New Yorkers, Hockey fans, and so on.

Sure, this would be a lot of work to set up, initially, but once you have a portfolio of 30-50 ideas, it’s fairly easy to run through them repeatedly, and people might actually enjoy it. Perhaps this could be done for one particular weekday - Tuesdays, for example - as a test of its appeal.

I’m glad I’m no longer responsible to ensure there is a daily minyan, but I think this could be fun.

Cantors behaving badly

Some dozen years ago, I was hired by a great mentor of mine to translate the Aruch haShulchan's Laws of Shabbos. It was an incredible learning opportunity, on many levels - and one of those was intense exposure to R' Yechiel Michel Epstein's views on halachic debates of his day.

Here is one of my favorite passages, on disobedient chazzanim; it came to mind today because I included it in this week's Toronto Torah, in our Biography/Torah in Translation section:

For some decades, due to our great sins, a tzara'at has spread among cantors. These cantors hold a small silver fork or a lump of iron (termed kamar tone) when standing before the platform on Shabbat and Yom Tov, for setting the song’s pitch. The cantors place the fork between their teeth, and they hear a musical sound; they then know how to arrange the song.

This is, literally, a musical instrument, designed to produce music. We do not have the power to protest their claims that they cannot generate music without these instruments. Due to our great sins, our generation is loose and the masses support these cantors. Not only are we unable to protest, but even exiting the synagogue causes a fight, as is known.

Perhaps it is possible to suggest that this device is not among the “musical instruments” which our sages prohibited, for the following reasons:

•The sound of this music is not heard other than from the cantor’s mouth to his ear,
•The sound is only momentary, and
•The purpose is to generate vocal song, which was never forbidden.

This matches what we wrote regarding whistling and placing one’s hand in one’s mouth.

We need to justify this; it would be disgraceful to say that the Jewish nation would stumble in a shevut (rabbinic Shabbat prohibition), all the more so when standing in prayer before the King of Kings, Gd Himself!

[Further, regarding the practice of saying words, and repeating them twice and three times, and spreading notes before the platform to sing in the style of a performance – all who have awe of heaven are pained by this, and they cannot protest, for the masses are undisciplined, and they will not listen to the words of the sages in this matter! They say that this is their enjoyment of Shabbat and Yom Tov!

In truth, perhaps there is no prohibition in this, but one who is good before Gd will flee therefrom. We have come to justify the actions of the sanctified descendants of Israel, whose eyes are sealed. Perhaps, from the fact that our Sages said one silences a cantor only for repeating the word “Shema,” we may say that this is not true for other words that they repeat twice and three times.

As to the notes they spread before the platform, we cannot present a reason to state a clear prohibition here, and so, “Let Israel practice as it will; better for them to practice in error, etc.”]

Shul What-Ifs

I was reading a piece on CNN's site about odd declarations in job interviews (examples: "I have a problem with authority." "You touch somebody and they call it sexual harassment!" "I've never heard such a stupid question." "What is your company's policy on Monday absences?") and was reminded of something I contemplate every once in a while: Shul What-Ifs.

Over the years, I’ve had a few What-Ifs - unexpected and/or awkward moments, the sort of occurrence you don't expect to happen, and which you need to handle immediately. These include congregant outbursts, kids running amok (moreso than usual, yes), a sefer torah nearly being dropped, a fire alarm being pulled by accident, a cell phone ringing during Shabbos davening, a man seating himself in the women’s section, etc.

Every once in a while, though, I wonder how we would handle something truly unusual. As in:

• During the rabbi’s speech, someone stands up and starts singing the national anthem;

• The chazan for musaf says the repetition of the amidah, word for word, backwards;

• All of the people sitting in an entire section of the shul stand up for the silent amidah – and recite it aloud;

• All of the people sitting in an entire section of the shul stand up for the silent amidah – and turn to face south while reciting it;

• All of the people sitting in an entire section of the shul stand up for the silent amidah – during the Torah reading;

• A sinkhole suddenly opens up under the bimah;

• The rabbi abruptly halts mid-speech, and sits down.

I like to contemplate these cases (especially if the chazan goes on too long… now you know what I’ve been mulling all these years…), and wonder what would happen in my shul in these situations.

What would happen in yours? And what unexpected/awkward circumstances have you witnessed?

Hallel for Yom ha’Atzmaut without a berachah (Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook)

Yeshivat Hesder Ramat Gan published “Go’el Yisrael גואל ישראל,” several years ago. The book collects considerable quality material on Yom ha’Atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, from Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook, his son Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook, their students, and other giant of Religious Zionism. It also offers a complete seder tefillah for Yom haAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim.

On page 300-301, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook is quoted regarding the Chief Rabbinate’s recommendation of saying Hallel without a berachah on Yom ha’Atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day:

On the Erev Shabbat preceding Yom ha’Atzmaut, a certain important man came to me and asked why our rabbis do not permit us to recite a berachah upon Hallel for Yom ha’Atzmaut. I replied to him that the ruling of the Chief Rabbinate is balanced and correct.

The enactments of the Chief Rabbinate apply to the entire community. Since, to our pain and shame, a great portion of our community does not believe in the great act of Gd which is revealed to us in the establishment of the government of Israel, and since, due to its lack of faith, it lacks joy, it is not possible to obligate them to recite Hallel with a berachah. It is like someone who sees a friend and is glad to see him, who is obligated to recite a berachah; if he is joyous, he recites a beracah. If he is not joyous, he does not recite a berachah.

Rav Maimon, whose entire being was dedicated to building Gd’s nation and portion, was filled with the joy of faith, and so he established in his synagogue to recite Hallel with a berachah. The same is true in other, similar places – the IDF and religious kibbutzim. However, the Chief, all-inclusive Rabbinate cannot enact a berachah as an all-inclusive ruling for the entire community, when the community is not ready for it.

In our central Yeshiva we had followed the ruling of the Rabbinate, for we are not a kloiz of a specific sect. We are associated with the general Jewish population centered in Yerushalayim, and since that population includes, for now, to our pain and our embarrassment, obstacles to complete faith and joy, and therefore to the obligation to recite a berachah, it is appropriate that we also act according to the ruling of the Rabbinate for the general population.

I find this explanation fascinating for many reasons, including the following:

• I’m not sure which group he means, when he speaks of those who don’t believe in the great act of Gd – does he mean those who do not believe in Divine intervention? Or those who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd?

• I wonder how many people who do not believe in Divine intervention, or who do not believe that the State is an act of Gd, daven in Mercaz haRav – and on Yom ha’Atzmaut in particular?

• I believe that his insistence on keeping the yeshiva – the bastion of his father’s Torah! – as an institution open to all, and serving all, and avoiding divisive practices even on matters we hold most dear, should be a model for all of us. This is true leadership.

The rabbi who cried Wolf?

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here!]


[Make sure to read this article to the end – a Forward shout-out for our shul’s annual chulent contest! ]


This hasn't happened to me in a while, but when it does, it's a problem:


The time for minchah arrives, and we have 9 men. (Yes, we only count men for the minyan. No, that's not the topic of this post.) So I pull out my cell phone and start calling people, and soon enough we have a pledge from the tenth to be there as soon as he can.


Then, before the promised tenth can arrive, someone else walks in the door. Now what?


Do I call our promised tenth and let him know he isn't needed? That would be a way to protect myself from being accused of crying Wolf... but then he would miss minyan!


So should I let him rush to get dressed appropriately (also a topic for another post, but in this case I've already written it here, on shul dress codes and Dress-Up Judaism) and come to shul? But then he may resent it when he comes and the tenth is already there, and the next time I call him he'll write it off as the rabbi crying Wolf again!


From a purely halachic perspective, this is not really a question; the legal principle of ערבות (responsibility for others) does not extend this far. I should protect myself and my future prospects by letting him know that the tenth has arrived, and then the choice to stay home or come to shul is his own.


But from a philosophical perspective, what should I do?


To globalize the problem: Is an immediate mitzvah more important than many potential future mitzvot?


Of course, the problem really is not so neatly stated, because (1) I don't know that he will resent it, (2) I don't know that such resentment would lead him not to come to minyan, and (3) I don't know that we will need him for any future minyan. But I like that formulation, so let's go with it: One immediate mitzvah, or Many potential future mitzvot?


I suspect the answer is מצוה הבא לידך אל תחמיצנה, loosely translated as, "Don't pass up an opportunity for a mitzvah, when it comes to hand." Let him come to minyan today, even if that puts future attendance in jeopardy. But I'm not certain that applies here.


I leave it open-ended, for now.

Minyan Curbs Creativity

Stipulation: Judaism endorses and nurtures the creative spirit.

Certainly, Rav Soloveitchik and others pointed out that the biblical instruction to walk in Gd's ways includes a mandate to be creative, just as Gd is creative. Whether producing and nurturing children, or bringing food from the earth, we are creating. The Talmud considers אומנות, craftsmanship, a fine way to earn one's living.

My problem, though, is with davening – specifically, the practical issue of attending minyan, as well as the challenge of conforming to halachic זמנים (time constraints), which require the morning shacharit to center around sunrise, and which make the most practical minchah/maariv a sunset minyan. The result of these factors is that I never watch the sun climb into the sky or descend below the horizon.

Technically, one may recite the morning Shacharit for a few hours after sunrise – but (a) this is not ideal, and (b) in terms of practicality, it is hard to assemble a minyan that late into the working morning.

Sunset? Technically, one may/should daven minchah in the early afternoon, and it is ideal to daven maariv after the stars emerge – but, again, minyan practicality makes that difficult in a community with 8,000 Jews.

The result is that I rarely witness a sunrise or a sunset. On an early Friday night I can catch sunset while walking home from shul. On the mornings when sunrise is earliest, if I rise at 5:00 I can catch sunrise before Shacharit. But these occasions are rare.

I was reminded of this beauty I am missing a couple of weeks ago, when I drove into New York for a morning meeting. Heading east on I-78 to catch minyan in New Jersey, I was floored to watch the sun rise directly in front of me. The horizon glowed with ever-lightening shades of black, purple, violet, blue, before bands of citrusy reds and oranges and yellows made their entrance. Finally, the sun itself, an incredible shining ball, backlit distant skyscrapers and illuminated shreds of cloud before taking its dominating position in the sky.

I won't pretend that I wasn't annoyed by driving into the glare, not to mention contending with the slow-down of thousands of other drivers facing the same visibility challenge... but it was worth seeing that incredible, מה רבו מעשיך! grandeur. The experience lit up the rest of my day, sparking new ideas and energy.

Of course, people who are exposed to sunrise/sunset regularly are desensitized to this celestial theater, and I would be likewise benumbed if I witnessed this daily. But seeing it occasionally, people monthly, would be something special.

Some might suggest that we could blend this majestic view with inspired prayer. Of course, there are shuls with lots of windows (and some authorities even recommend a specific number and orientation of windows for a shul), but, in truth, I could not focus on feeling the siddur's words and appreciating the beauty of nature simultaneously. I wouldn't exactly end up praying to the sun, but I would likely not end up praying to Gd, either.

So if I ever live in a place where they have an early minchah / late maariv option, I'll have to work my schedule to allow for that. Then I'll sit with a sefer at sunset, and admire this incredible world we have been given.