Is This Man the Next Shlomo Carlebach or Debbie Friedman?

The following article appeared in Tablet Mag raising the above question about Joey Weisenberg.  Please read about this 32 year old's mission to change for the better how we pray.  Best quote:

“People desperately want to come out of hibernation,” said Weisenberg, referring to what he sees and hears in so many American shuls. “You feel this deep sleepiness,” he said of those communities.

Please share your thoughts.

Also looking for a person to do a book review.

Carlebach Selichot?

If you poll a bunch of Jews asking what is their favorite prayer service, I am pretty confident that Kabalat Shabbat would be the hands down winner.  If you similarly polled the same bunch of people what is their least favorite service - that would actually be an interesting poll to run - what would they say?

I do not think that selichot would necessarily be at the top of that second list (top 5?) - that is because for serious daveners selichot is a special seasonal addition.  However, for many people selichot can be tedious and a challenge to connect to, because of the hour it is said and the text.  When I asked an educator friend how to better infuse spirit to the Tuesday morning selichot, he replied, "do it Carlebach style".  I think his presumption was that Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach's music has made kabalat Shabbat so energized that perhaps that should be the approach for selichot.  (I have personally been to first night selichot in the 'Carlebach' genre and do think it was more positive than my more traditional experiences).

Towards this notion, another friend recently passed on to me the following three youtube clips of Reb Shlomo reciting selichot and I encourage you to listen and watch these tefillot.

Part 1/3

Part 2/3

Part 3/3

Here are some of my reflections:

• The power of a unique niggun, the tunes for this season is very powerful and not only gets me in the mood for davening on Rosh Hashanah but is a great educational tool for students.  The nusach of yamim noraim transcends time and never goes out of style.  
• Musical instruments just add to any tefilla experience.
• There needs to be a tune to daven to, not just the silent mumbling along.  I think it gives a great deal of agency and helps one transcend the words to be in the moment, and extends the moment a bit longer; it makes the mediation important.
• Stories - the actual selcihot help to tell the story of the path to teshuvah and forgiveness.  Reb Shlomo adds a few more metaphors and stories.  What story are you telling this year?  

My friend also added the following note - a good inspiration for your upcoming tefillot.  

Reb Shlomo said that sometimes when you go in to the emergency room you sit down and are patient to be seen. But when you have a really serious medical problem that can't wait you go right past the door and scream, "emergency, it's an emergency." Selichos is when a person cries to Hashem and says, "I'm an emergency." 

Selichos is when I realize that I can't wait to be close to You again! I can't wait to correct my ways, I need You to help me let myself be me again, right now. Please. My whole life is an emergency. Praying to G-d on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur is the medicine. 

Guest Post: Kosher Gospel

While I was watching gospel videos the other day, I could not help but to be struck by the verve, vitality and vigor with which the singers and their parishioners encouraged one another one to reach crescendos of spirituality. Their outpouring of emotionality was stirring even from the barrier of my computer screen.

Was it the awesome voices, the rousing choir, the energized music or all of them combined? Or was it the experience of coming together for the sole purpose of prayer, without a predetermined text or a G-d given mandate to attend?

Whatever the cause, the collective result of a congregation engaged in their mission of praising the L-rd and electrifying one another was, as an observer an honest and pure experience.

Is that what it was like for us with the Leviim and Pirchei Kehuna? Was that akin to the atmosphere that we sing about in Mareh Kohen on Yom Kippur? The question of where did we lose it or why did we lose it interests me less, but more of why have we not brought some of it back. I do not see an openly emotional prayer session being dependant on bringing sacrifices or being housed on har habyit. Is our yearning for uplifting prayer experiences why we have seen a proliferation of Carlebach minyanim around the modern Orthodox world?

My purpose at this time is not to propose alternatives, though I have some up my sleeve, but rather to present the thought that within the realm of our daily or Shabbat minyanim, there is a way to rise above the monotony of the experience that plagues most of our kehillat and to activate a more meaningful, uplifting, non kitschy service that will have us leaving our shuls inspired, uplifted and fulfilled. Why have we not pursued it?

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Avi Silverman holds a BA from Yeshiva University in Psychology and Speech and Drama, an MS from The City College of New York in School Psychology and has Rabbinic Ordination from Yeshiva University. In his professional career, Avi has worked as an Upper School administrator and Retreat Center Director in America, and at Bar Ilan University and various elementary and high schools in Israel. Currently, Avi is the Advisor for Education and Communities at Nefesh B'Nefesh and lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife and six children.

The Transformative Imperative

I think that Chief Rabbi Lord Dr. Rev.the honorable Jonathan Sacks is one of the most eloquent Jewish thinkers of our time (for those looking to expand their mode of thinking about Judaism, please read the six Faith Lectures from 2000-01 - phenomenal!).   Recently he emailed me his thoughts on the weekly Torah parshat Shmeni - which contained the following observation:

The dietary laws in Shmini parallel the prohibition given to Adam. As then, so now, a new era in the spiritual history of humankind, preceded by an act of creation, is marked by laws about what one may and may not eat.

Why? As with sex, so with eating: these are the most primal activities, shared with many other forms of life. Without sex there is no continuation of the species. Without food, even the individual cannot survive. These, therefore, have been the focus of radically different cultures. On the one hand there are hedonistic cultures in which food and sex are seen as pleasures and pursued as such. On the other are ascetic cultures - marked by monastic seclusion - in which sex is avoided and eating kept to a minimum. The former emphasize the body, the latter the soul. Judaism, by contrast, sees the human situation in terms of integration and balance. We are body and soul. Hence the Judaic imperative, neither hedonistic nor ascetic, but transformative. We are commanded to sanctify the activities of eating and sex. From this flow the dietary laws and the laws of family purity (niddah and mikveh), two key elements of kedushah, the life of holiness.

As this is a blog about tefilla, and not about food, sex, or hedonistic cultures, I wanted to mediate here on Sack's point about this transformative Jewish imperative to balance ascetic and hedonistic impulses.  I fear that so much of how tefilla, and Judaism in general, is being taught today doesn't reflect such an imperative but rather sways to the extremes of a particular practice.

As someone who feels the call to pray but feels a tension between personal worship and public practice, perhaps it is best to characterize this as a larger process of Judaic transformation.   Rather than push the practice of prayer in one direction, a celebration of Carlebacian hora dance, or to another monastic Yom Kipur confession warped in a talit, we should teach an imperative to navigate the spiritual and cultural world around us.  Perhaps this call to pray is just this imperative that Sacks describes; otherwise we are just left with the obligation to pray which leads to the very beginning questions about the sad state of tefilla today.  

Guest Post: Is Music Transcendental?

The Transcendental Power of Music

Remembering Harry Chapin, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach and Debbie Friedman, their lives and their music, enables us to become better human beings.

By Rabbi Yehoshua Looks / Jewish World blogger  Published 09:22 12.02.12

Music can be transcendental and it enables us to become better human beings.

We sing our prayer, we sing around our Shabbat and holiday tables, and our first communal activity when leaving Egypt was to sing after G-d performed the miracle of parting the sea. There is a dispute between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Nechemyah in the Talmud, fifth chapter of Tractate Sotah, concerning whether Moses initiated the song and the people repeated line by line, or whether it was sung in unison. We are left with a question: Do we draw and maintain our inspiration from our leaders or form them as a community?

I was a child of the sixties. There were causes to believe in, causes to fight for – like civil rights – and causes to fight against – like the Vietnam War. There were leaders we believed in: John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., and Robert Kennedy – especially Bobby – all assassinated, depriving a generation of its potential greatness.

From a young age, next to a love of classical music (especially opera), the popular music that spoke to me was folk. Harry Chapin, Phil Ochs, and Peter, Paul and Mary all reflected the shifting moods and priorities of the times. They weaved the social conscience of our youth into melodies that we could sing along with. We dropped in along the concert trail with our friends, then with our wives, and then with our children. Harry Chapin moved us with stories of ordinary people, urging us all to adopt the causes he believed in, particularly hunger in America. After his tragic death at age 38, his widow, Sandy, said that "Harry was supporting 17 relatives, 14 associations, 7 foundations and 82 charities. Harry wasn't interested in saving money. He always said, “Money is for people,” so he gave it away."

Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach spoke to a generation of Jews through his stories and his music. Rav Shlomo was a complex individual and there were troubling aspects to his life, but his empathy for humanity and his generosity were undeniable; so much so that despite all the money he made from concerts during his lifetime, he died virtually penniless.

This past week marked the first yahrtzeit of Debbie Friedman. She came out of the Jewish summer camp movement, drawing inspiration from folk music, combining it with Jewish texts. Like Rav Shlomo, her music has become a liturgy unto itself, crossing denominational lines.

Last week, at a memorial concert in New York City, Cheryl Friedman remembered her sister: “Debbie was gifted beyond measure. But, first she was a good person. She gave and gave selflessly, often to her own detriment, for the enrichment of our People and Judaism… Her consistent message brought people together from every corner of the Jewish world and beyond. We respond to a messenger who lives what she speaks – what she sings. That is why Debbie’s impact was so profound. Her values were reflected in her music – and in her life.”

Where are the Harrys, Rav Shlomos and Debbies of today? We remember them through their music and are transported to another place. Their words are words of hope and love. Let us not lose sight of their message, the positive in their lives, and their melodies. May they continue to touch our hearts and minds, inspiring us to leave the world a better place, as they did.

Shirah (singing) is referred to ten times in the Bible. All of them are times of great emotion. How are we to express our joy, happiness, sadness and thanksgiving if not in song? Shirah brings us closer to G-d. It makes us like the angels. Nine songs have been sung. The tenth, Shir HaGeulah, the song of redemption, is referred to by the prophet Isaiah (26:1), "In that day shall this song be sung in the land of Judah..." I await that day with great anticipation.

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Rabbi Yehoshua Looks is Managing Director of HaOhel Institutions in Jerusalem, now launching a new venture, Threshold, fostering Jewish Educational Entrepreneurship.

A Mediation on Shlomo Carlebach

Today marks 17 years since the death of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach - one of the most powerful influences on modern Jewish expression in the past 30 years.  I think that his influence is really taken for granted - especially in the Jewish music world but also in the realm of tefilla.

Considering that the Kabalat Shabbat service was introduced only in the 16th century and is arguably one of the most popular tefillot, it is hard to think of davening or singing in camp without a 'Carlebach' niggun.  Someone once told me, and I tend to agree, that the two most influential personalities on people "returning" to the practice Judaism in Israel are Rebbe Nachman from Bretslav (stories) and Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach (songs).  Whether this is true or not I cannot empirically prove nor do I have the time to do so. What I can say is that the Jewish content that they have created has positively touched thousands of Jews beyond their immediate circles and has generated new connections to the Jewish tradition. 

For Jewish day-school students today, the concept of a niggun is actually mainstream.  For Hebrew School students, thankfully there are other versions to "david melech yisrael" than the one with the funky hand gestures.  By the way, I also think that Debbie Friedman (who passed away almost a year ago) did much to bring non-Orthodox music into a new more meaningful era. If there was a Carlebachian influence on Friedman I do not know...

The point of this post is to first of all appreciate that the tone, tune, and variety of music has improved dramatically over the past few decades and actually engages a lot more people to participate or even dance in shul.  The second point of this post is to highlight the often overlooked meditation element to singing a Hasidic niggun.   Repeating a word allows participants to focus on the theme at that moment.  Removing words and humming or shouting a meaningful tune permits more people to feel included.  And most significant is that a niggun stretches a powerful moment - at a wedding, a brit, the welcoming of Shabbat, or a prayer for soldiers - to be longer than the one minute it actually might take to say the bracha.  This is mediation and I sadly have not and do not hear many educators of tefilla teaching their students practical steps to block out distractions and learn to elevate their focus. 

While there is indeed controversy surrounding some of the actions and stories of Reb Shlomo, his name is now a ubiquitous tag line to sing-songy service honors his memory and reminds us that, like the addition of Kabalat Shabbat nearly 500 years ago - things can change for the better.