I feel fortunate to have this chance to deliver a D'var Torah to our holy congregation this morning, and to that end I wish to thank Rabbi Gotlieb for this opportunity.

As I am sure you know, the role of Hazzan in the Jewish faith is one of privilege and honor, one in which I take great pride in, feel great love for, and approach with a pure heart and open spirit. Rabbi Dr. Abraham Joshua Heschel, who passed away in 1972, was Professor of Jewish Ethics and Mysticism at the Jewish Theological Seminary. He spoke very candidly about the task of the Hazzan in a lecture presented at the 10th Annual Convention of the Cantors Assembly in May, 1957. Rabbi Heschel spoke of the Hazzan's mission, which is to lead the congregation in prayer. He said, and I am quoting, that the Cantor does not stand before the Ark as an artist in isolation, trying to demonstrate his skill or to display vocal feats. He stands before the Ark not as an individual, but as a Congregation, with a capital "C". Heschel said the the Hazzan must identify himself with the Congregation. His task is to represent, as well as to inspire, a community. Within the synagogue, music is not an end in itself, but a means of religious experience.

Words are very important to Hazzanim, because it is through words, primarily the words of the Siddur, that the heart and soul of the Jewish people are expressed. In our tradition, as Heschel reminds us, we have neither icons, or statues. We are not even in need of visible symbols to create in us a mood of worship. All we have are the words of the Siddur and reverence in our hearts.

I enjoy communicating with words, and not just the words of the Siddur. Indeed, it is a labor of love to prepare an article for our own synagogue newsletter each month, for it is through these columns that I am able to put down into words my thoughts, my feelings, and my passions about our world, about Judaism, and about God. Knowing that I rarely have an opportunity to actually speak publicly at a Shabbat morning service, please understand that I wish to maximize your exposure to me, in other words, you are probably going to be very late for your Shabbat lunch...

I am often curious about how the professional Hazzan is perceived in the community at large, both the Jewish and non-Jewish community. Often, when I am asked by a stranger whom I perceive to be a gentile, what it is I do for a living, I might answer that I am the principal of a religious school, fearing that I might have to go into a lengthy explanation about what a Hazzan is, exactly. Having spoken with many of my colleagues, I know that they, too, feel the same way.

What is even more entertaining is overhearing my friends, relatives, or other knowledgeable Jews explain what a Hazzan is. "Oh, he/she leads the service." "Well," the next question invariably is, "if the Cantor leads the service, what does a Rabbi do?" I often ask myself that very same question.

In 1948, Nathan Ausubel published a landmark compendium entitled " A Treasury of Jewish Folklore." In the section entitled "Traditional Types", Ausubel states the following:

Take the Hazzan, the synagogue cantor. He often is as vain of himself and his art as any operatic tenor, a prey to all the tantrums and exhibitionism of the artistic temperament. Yet he has his special characteristics due probably to the peculiar role he plays in the congregation. More often than not he serves as a cause of contention among its members. Either he is idolized and hero-worshipped as a nightingale of God, which, incidentally, is my own particular experience, or he serves as the butt of the sarcastic jokes of his deriders.

Ausubel continues:

It is well known that there are among Jews many passionate music lovers. There is hardly one among the pious who doesn't think of himself as a bit of a sagacious musical critic in matters of the cantorial art. And just like an Italian opera enthusiast, who performs a musical autopsy on a singer, the cantorial connoisseur too contrasts his victim's failings with the virtues of more favored cantors.

Now my favorite section:

The cantor himself does not always enjoy the congregational civil war over him. Being sensitive, like any other artist, he takes offense easily. He is ready to hand in his resignation upon the slightest provocation. In fact, many cantors never let the synagogue grass grow under their feet, but are constantly on the lookout for other posts; the cantorial pasture always looks greener elsewhere.

The word Hazzan has been used since the Middle Ages. The word frequently occurs in talmudic sources, where it denotes various types of communal officials, most prominently the Hazzan Ha-Knesset. This official performed certain duties in the synagogues, such as bringing out the Torah scrolls for readings, and blowing a trumpet to announce the commencement of Shabbat and Festivals. He was not, however, regularly required to chant the synagogue service, but could do so by request. It was during the period of the Geonim, which if you check your Talmudic history, began in the 8th century, and continued for roughly 5 centuries, that the Hazzan became the permanent Shaliach Tzibur, representative of the congregation. When piyuttim, began to take an important place in the liturgy of the synagogue, it was the Hazzan who would recite them and provide suitable melodies.

According to the Encyclopedia Judaica, the Middle Ages were a wonderful time for Hazzanim, as the status of the Hazzan rose, and they were given better salaries, longer tenure of office and more communal tax exemptions. In Northern Europe, eminent rabbis actually served as Hazzanim, no doubt for the tax benefits. One of these rabbis was the famed Jacob Moellin ha-Levi, known as the Maharil of Mainz, which is located in Germany.

The Maharil was, incidentally, well-known within rabbinic circles as the rabbi who promulgated takkanot in Germany. Takkanot are legally binding ordinances which, while not found in the Torah, were enacted, often, but not always, by rabbinic bodies, to help the Jewish world interact with the non-Jewish world, which was becoming increasingly complex in the Middle Ages.

Anyway, the Maharil helped to establish strict norms for Ashkenazi Hazzanim, some of whose chants are still in use.

Gradually, the qualifications of a Hazzan became fixed. He was required to have a pleasant voice and appearance, to be married, to have a beard, which I know for some of my female colleagues might require testosterone therapy, to be of blameless character, and to be acceptable in all other respects to the members of the community.

Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, in his book, Jewish Humor, tells the story of a cantor who informs his congregation's board of directors that he will have to find work elsewhere; he simply isn't earning enough to support his family. The synagogue's leadership tells him they don't have the money to give him a raise, but they will help him in other ways:

The butcher promises to supply his family with meat and chicken every week.
The baker promises a never-ending supply of bread and cake.
The clothing-store owner promises to clothe his whole family.
The sisterhood president says: "I promise to sleep with you every Monday and Thursday."

The room becomes deathly quiet. Finally, the synagogue president asks the woman why she's making such an offer.

I asked my husband what we could give to the cantor and he said, "Screw the cantor."

Let me conclude my D'var Torah this morning with three things. One, I have never been more delighted than I am today that we don't have a sisterhood here at Kehillat Ma'arav.

Second, I am deeply indebted to our community which has provided me with great joy over the past 6 1/2 years, and as our tradition teaches, Ad May-ah V'esreem, until 120.

Lastly, a story related by Rabbi Heschel about a hassidic rabbi in Galicia, among whose adherents were many Hazzanim. Their custom was to gather at the rabbi's court of the Sabbath which precedes Rosh HaShana. At the end of their stay they would enter the rabbi's chamber and ask for his blessing that their prayers on Rosh Hashana be accepted in heaven. Once, the story goes, one of the Hazzanim entered the rabbi's chamber immediately after the Sabbath to take leave of the rabbi. when the rabbi asked him why he was in a hurry to leave, the Hazzan replied, "I have to go home in order to go through the Mahzor and to take a look at the notes." Thereupon the rabbi replied," Why should you go through the Mahzor or the notes; they are the same as last year. It is more important to go through your own life, and take a look at your deeds. For you are not the same as you were a year ago." The Hazzan was no longer in a hurry to leave.

My prayer is that all of us make the time this year, as we enter the summer and prepare for the High Holiday period, that we make opportunities to look inward, to listen to the voices of our teachers, our rabbis, and our Hazzanim, and to be inspired to reach to the Heavens. Amen.