USCJ Review - Spring 2006
K-Date: The Embrace of Keva and Kavannah in the Conservative Synagogue
Chasidim have taught that words of prayer without song are like a body without a soul. Passages from the siddur, accompanied by spontaneous, simply structured, and repetitive niggunim -- melodies, both with and without words -- offer wide appeal because this spirited prayer model is easily accessible and potentially elevating. Moreover, Chasidim commonly mirror their prayer experiences in their daily lives. The warmth and humility demonstrated by Chabad Chasidim, in particular, are attractive to worshippers in, near, and new to Chasidic circles. This gracious welcome offers an engaging atmosphere where both regular participants and guests feel valued and included in the worship setting.
Devotion to sacred pursuits that extend beyond defined times of worship enables Chasidic communities to impress those who appreciate an observable consistency in private and public behaviors. Though Chasidic dress, ritual, and interpersonal approaches may differ dramatically from secular culture, their way of life is woven into their mode of worship. This consistency enables worshippers to feel immediately at home. This consistency allows worshippers to feel inspired, even if the setting is entirely new to them.
In contrast, mainstream Ashkenazic Jews learned from the Maharil, R. Jacob ha-Levi ben Moshe Mollin (1358-1427), that spontaneous expressions during worship are potentially hazardous. Opponents of Chasidism feared that God, prayer's Subject, might be turned into prayer's object. Uncontrolled musical, stylistic, or textual diversions and detours may turn the worshipper into the subject, in the name but no longer for the sake of Heaven. In other words, just because a song, the environment, or a charismatic leader helps us feel good, that feeling is not necessarily a genuine expression of Jewish religious devotion.
In large measure, the Maharil's codification of minhag Ashkenaz, of Ashkenazi custom, was intended to guard against emotionally driven tendencies, joyous or not, that may corrupt Jewish life and Jewish worship. His legal mandates offered halachic support to mainstream Ashkenazim against those who would challenge communal norms of Jewish practice and ritual with radical alternative approaches.
For the Maharil and most Ashkenazim since the Middle Ages, accessibility to worship was found in keva -- familiar prayer passages and time-honored tunes. Communal norms in nusah hatefillah -- standardized prayer texts accompanied by many prescribed, conventional tunes -- enabled established communities to create and maintain a clear and comfortable focus in worship. So-called MiSinai Tunes, a broad classification of familiar melodies and styles, assured that worshippers in successive generations would feel at home during the High Holy Days. Their attention would not focus on newly introduced niggunim; instead, the familiar melodies would keep worshippers involved with introspection and prayer. Introducing new tunes and stylistic approaches for its own sake or for self-gratification was considered a violation of minhag Ashkenaz, especially if they competed with the MiSinai sacred classification of tunes and nusah hatefillah.
Hazzanim were charged with the sacred task of preserving these time-honored tunes, leaving some space for other old or contemporary melodies where creative license was permitted. Hazzanim were and continue to be the professionals responsible for helping a community balance keva, the fixed, familiar tunes, with kavanah, newly composed or spontaneous expressions of worship, without violating customary communal norms.
The word kavanah suggests sincerity and inner participation in prayer. This aspect of kavanah always is necessary. Within keva there must be kavanah; within the fixed there must be sincerity. This concept is understood and accepted by Jewish worshippers of all denominations. I am not writing about that aspect of kavanah here; instead, I'm focusing on the definition of kavanah that has to do with contemporary styles and melodies.
Oddly, in recent decades, it is so-called Orthodoxy that has commonly violated the established liturgical practices that it once rigidly and proudly guarded with conviction and affection. Reform Judaism, once the proudly radical movement that rebelled against anything that resembled Orthodoxy, returned to employing hazzanim and has carefully integrated many time-honored texts and tunes into their worship settings. The Conservative cantorate and congregations clearly are the strictest adherents of nusah hatefillah, and many of our congregations are meticulous in their approach to cantillation. Today's Conservative congregations are struggling to strike a healthy balance between protecting the traditional and welcoming the fresh and new.
"Ein chadash tachat hashemesh" - there is nothing new under the sun. Since the Middle Ages, we Jews have struggled with balancing keva and kavanah. Some Conservative congregations are addressing the issue carefully and politely, in a community-wide, proactively educational manner. Other congregations are acting reactively, with a limited view and minimal review to what is best for it and for the movement as a whole. As a Conservative cantor, I am proud that we know that we must struggle to balance Jewish life and Jewish customs, taking into consideration both tradition and modernity. We Conservative Jews approach our Judaism intellectually and emotionally. We understand that through our actions we must link the past, present, and future of our people.
I believe that we must consider our direction as a movement proactively and carefully. We should not act reactively or competitively. We should strive to locate the fulcrum in our collective efforts to balance tradition and modernity so we may be welcoming and legitimate centers for present and successive generations of worshippers. I hope that we can have a movement-wide, carefully facilitated conversation that includes rabbis, cantors, educators, lay leaders, congregants, college students, and USYers as we discuss what binds us in worship as a truly vibrant movement.
Our movement's members represent a broad range of experiences and backgrounds. Some come to us with virtually no experience praying in a classically distinctive Jewish way. Many of our beloved congregants have a strong Judaic background, some are tangential to the Jewish scene, and others are Jews by choice, who search and strive with sincerity and openness. Many regulars plead for what they know; others ask for anything but what they remember from their childhoods. Our congregations offer many styles of minyanim in our efforts to reach out to our membership.
As we reach out, however, we must be sensitive about the feelings of those regulars who miss the buzzing sounds of communal davening, the opportunity to feel at one with a united congregation. They fear that they may never be integrated with the group of new members whose entry to the synagogue may be through alternative expressions of worship. Our mission is to find the balance that keeps us united and growing as we reach out with flexibility, integrity, and love for all our congregants.
Years ago, the contemporary Jewish composer Debbie Friedman visited a Cantors Assembly convention. Ms. Friedman was already a well-known and respected composer in the Reform movement, but her music was just starting to be heard by Conservative congregations in concert and in worship. I vividly recall her acknowledging that she'd feared a cold reception at the convention, which then included a significant number of colleagues who served Orthodox and Reform congregations. Her fears were justified. Although about a third of the group gave her a standing ovation the rest either offered courteously mild applause or sat silently, their disdain clear.
To many, including me, Debbie Friedman represented the antithesis of what many of us vowed to perpetuate -- our time-honored musical traditions, nusah hatefillah. To many of us, her prayer music represented a move away from Torah-rooted Judaism toward the lowest form of public worship. It was treif, a challenge that had to be thwarted.
To my pleasant surprise, Debbie Friedman readily and honestly acknowledged that her compositions, including prayer melodies, were strictly a free expression of her hand and heart, not influenced by the traditional modes, conventions, and customs of Jewish tradition. She said that she admired those people who regard traditional music as a sacred heritage that had been preserved. Her music originally had been marketed to Californians as an attractive alternative for Jews who could not actively reject tradition because they did not know what the tradition was, she added. She hoped to attract draw secular Jews through the entryway to Jewish life with her music. She was eloquent and right on target as she implied that her song made it possible for our song to be heard. Indeed, she connected with a generation of young Jews who may have been lost forever if not for her popular, spiritually oriented music, which related to the values and themes of Jewish life and Jewish worship. Thanks to her music, countless young people are now part of the fabric of the Jewish people.
When Ms. Friedman finished her presentation, I was among those who stood and applauded. She taught me an important lesson, relatively early in my career. I learned that there must be alternative routes offered toward experiencing Jewish prayer and expression. In today's Reform movement, that alternative often comes through a return to tradition, with the opportunity to hear and learn traditional prayer modes. In our movement, alternatives have included so-called library minyanim, learners' services, Carlebach-style services, and meditative experiences. All this, in my view, is good and healthy as long as the kavanah is not at the expense of keva. We have all heard about the many successes of JDate; I now offer a new expression, KDate. As long as keva and kavannah date in a designated Shabbat or over a month of Shabbatot, then we may come close to finding the balance we need. It is vitally necessary to retain the old and welcome the new.
We Conservative Jews must embrace both keva and kavannah in our synagogues. As we offer alternative paths to worship, we have to preserve the beauty of our siddur. As we conserve that which was time-tested, time-honored, and sacred, we must be willing to explore innovative, exciting, and legitimate approaches toward Jewish worship.
Keva and kavanah must meet, not compete; they must date, then mate. We should model ourselves on the Chasidim; our behavior outside the synagogue should mirror our behavior inside, if not ritually then at least ethically. We must be less judgmental, more thoughtful, more charitable, more welcoming, and yes - more spontaneous. Like the mainstream Orthodox Ashkenazim of the Middle Ages, we must keep God the Subject of our prayer; we must not see ourselves as the spiritual center. And, like Reform Jews, we need not feel embarrassed to reintroduce traditional texts and tunes before they are forgotten.
We Conservative Jews have the historic foundation and human resources to support KDate and the marriage of keva and kavanah. I hope that we have the resolve to keep keva and kavanah in an enduring embrace that will benefit this generation of Jewish worshipers that those generations still to come.
May the words of our mouths and melodies from our hearts be acceptable to God, our Rock and our Redeemer.
Steven Dress is cantor at Temple Israel of Sharon, Massachusetts. This is an adapted version of a talk he gave at the United Synagogue convention.
