Swinging On The Bima

Growing up in Brooklyn, there were never any complaints about synagogues. In my neighborhood, like most Jewish enclaves of the time, we didn't really have synagogues; we had shteibles (yiddish for a little house), usually the ground floor of a two story house and the rabbi lived upstairs. Nowadays with democratically organized synagogues, people complain:"I want more Hebrew", "I want more English", "I want more contemporary sermons", "I don't want so much ceremonious honoring on the bima". The objection I hear most often is "I want more fire, more energy, more inspiration in shul". Belonging to a synagogue that is reputedly trendy is what many worshippers want.  I, too, would prefer more vitality in shul, but one question perplexes me --where does that inspiration come from? Does it originate from some external source like a spirited rabbi or cantor or even a lively congregation core? Or does it come from an internal spark within?

The case for external stimulation revolves primarily around the chazzan (the cantor); the rabbi or a core group may be motivating, but ultimately it comes down to the music the chazzan elicits. It's not the liturgy or the sermon, but music that invigorates the soul. Inspiring chazzans teach not only the bar/bat mitzvah candidates, but also the congregation--uplifting and moving melodies. Through musical encouragement, congregations sing, clap, sway and even, at times, dance. It's no wonder some Shabbat services and Passover Seders are tedious and uninspiring, there is either no music or no one singing it.

I attended a bar mitzvah at a suburban synagogue about a year ago and overhead this conversation.
Member: How did you like the services?
Guest: I thought they were rather boring; the cantor performed alone and nobody joined in.
Member: Services are supposed to be boring, at least here they're in English.
It doesn't have to be that way. Music is Judaism's principal art form; just look at how music interlaces each service. There are special melodies for Shabbat, for the High Holidays and for Purim as the chazzan chants the Megillah of Esther.  The Torah itself is never read aloud, but chanted. In Judaism, music is the joyous spark that enables us to serve and worship God.

The other side of the coin is whether synagogues should encourage "swinging on the bima" at all.  No one ever complained in my boyhood years; everyone was delighted just to have a shul, a place where we could davven, learn and congregate. We found spiritual satisfaction from the Hebrew text, the gilt embroidered velvet coverings that adorned the ark, the tune of each congregant's distinctive davvening and above all music, from the illustrious chazzans of the day to the prayer leader's plaintive melodies. It all felt very Jewish. It all felt right.

Spirituality doesn't necessarily take place in shul. It would be self-deluding to think that spiritual experiences spring only from the synagogue, and afterwards everything reverts to the secular world. Spirituality is lived moment by moment through awareness of our daily tasks. Through thoughtful contemplation of these activities we eventually discover our unity with all existence. Once we find that joy, we begin to pray with jubilant praises to God for the bounty we receive.

The fervent outpourings of the chazzan are merely a glimpse of the splendor that lies beyond our worldly existence.  A reverent moment arrives, during the Shabbat morning service, when the Torah is returned to the Ark. The congregation is standing. The opened Ark symbolizes the glory of God.  Silence pervades. The Torah is lifted, wrapped and united with its family of scrolls. The congregation responds with Etz Chaim He, "It is a tree of life", a soul-stirring melody familiar to most synagogues. That brief minute, of music and light, is comparable to standing at Sinai; we're open to a fleeting glance of the Divine, a taste of Jewish spirituality.

Bring more music into your life. Sing often.  Notice how singing changes the way you feel inside. Chances are you'll have a buzz; you'll feel joyous, even elated and you'll know authentic spirituality.  Work out a few tunes that you could chant along with the service. Bring them with you on Shabbat and davven with attentiveness--silent prayer needn't be totally quiet; tradition requires you to hear an audible sound--in Hebrew or English to your own music. Now you're ready to pour your heart out to God, not with words but with sound  --like a shofar--the language God understannds.

So the question about the source of the inspiration remains. It's unlikely that chazzans will emulate the electricity of the gospel choir in the foreseeable future. We can, however, bring our own spirituality with us to shul and sing out with breathtaking vigor. My preference is finding spirituality from the inside. What's yours?