Singing for the Shabbat : Orthodox Synagogues Find Cantors Scarce; Other Branches Turn to Women

Every morning before dawn, Steve Baum dons his brown knit yarmulke and a clean mechanic’s uniform, hops on his Yamaha motorcycle and rides to Young Israel of Northridge to lead the morning services.

An Orthodox Jew and owner of Dr. Steve’s Car Clinic, Baum is not only the choice mechanic for most religious Jews in the San Fernando Valley, he is also one of Los Angeles’ few remaining Orthodox cantors.

Faced with tight budgets and lagging interest in the ancient art, many Orthodox congregations have no cantor. Some, like Young Israel of Northridge, where Baum works during his off-hours, have one only part time.

“Most people have never experienced a service with a cantor, and they freak out when they hear one--they don’t believe how beautiful the service can be,” said Baum, 44.

Ancient Hebrew words and melodies have been central to Jewish worship for thousands of years. Each event in the Jewish calendar has its unique melody or chant, and the same words are sung differently on Shabbat, weekdays and holidays.

The cantor historically directs the liturgical prayer and leads the chanting during services. He also presides at weddings and funerals, prepares young men for bar mitzvahs and trains choirs. A full-time cantor can earn $50,000 to $100,000 a year.

In Reform and Conservative synagogues, women are helping to fill the gap. But for Orthodox Jews, finding qualified cantors means finding men, and that is becoming increasingly difficult.

Before World War II, nearly every congregation had a cantor; some even had two. Many of the cantors performed concerts in addition to their congregational duties, and people would come to services specifically to hear the cantors’ liturgical masterpieces.

“It used to be a whole big industry; record companies used to run after the big cantors of the time,” says Cantor Pinchas Rabinovicz, the only full-time Orthodox cantor in Los Angeles, who works for Temple Beth Jacob in Beverly Hills.

With the Young Israel movement of the 1950s, smaller, younger congregations emerged, and congregants became less interested in performance-oriented services.

Rabbis also felt threatened by the power of the cantor, Rabinovicz said. “The cantor takes away from the centrality of the rabbinic figure, because many people would come to synagogue to listen to a chazzan (cantor), rather than to the rabbi. The rabbis didn’t like it,” he said.

Other factors, including the unusual demands of the job--a cantor not only must know Jewish law and tradition, he also has to sing--along with temptations of secular professions, have contributed to reducing the number of cantorial hopefuls.

“Young people are not wanting to devote their lives to the clergy,” said Samuel Rosenbaum, executive vice president of the Cantors Assembly, the Conservative body of cantors. “Kids are living in such difficult spiritual times, there are so many distractions, so many things to attract them in all fields, there isn’t the kind of commitment to a religious life that there was in the previous generation.”

Many of the older, European-born cantors who trained men from an early age are also gone now, leaving a vacuum of role models.

“The cantorial art is being lost,” said Paul Glasser, a part-time cantor and former president of the Cantorial Council of America, the Orthodox cantors organization. “It’s kind of horrible. In 10 or 20 years there will be a limited number of people who understand the in’s and out’s of the liturgy to provide the kind of service that will really move the congregant.”

In place of a trained cantor, most Orthodox congregations simply let male congregants take turns leading the services--a practice that troubles many cantors.

“Without having trained cantors, ethnic and cultural treasures built over hundreds and hundreds of years (are lost), and the uniqueness of the event becomes lost and a drone,” Rosenbaum said. “Music is not something to be added, it is part of the warmth of Jewish fabric. A congregation without that is missing out.”

The main Orthodox institution that trains cantors is the Belz School of Jewish Music, a three-to-five-year program that is part of Yeshiva University in New York. That program graduates less than a dozen cantors a year. The Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, which trains Conservative cantors, has begun offering recruitment seminars in an effort to attract more applicants.

In contrast to the Orthodox and Conservative movements’ lack of qualified cantors, the Reform movement’s cantorate is flourishing, says Reform Cantor Oreen Zeitlan, largely because of its egalitarianism. The Conservative movement has allowed women into the cantorate since shortly after women were permitted into the rabbinate 10 years ago, but women have been entering the Reform cantorate for more than 20 years.

Nevertheless, Orthodox cantors are optimistic about the future of traditional cantors.

“If some forces would join together and educate people as to the function of the cantor, and show them the difference between leading a service and making an art out of it, people would understand our importance,” Rabinovicz said.

Baum has been an Orthodox Jew for 10 years and a part-time cantor for nearly eight. He studied voice and music in Chicago and learned the cantorial art from the late Alan Michaelson, a renowned cantor who taught most of the early San Fernando Valley-area cantors.

Baum’s shop, which is cluttered with grimy tools, grease-covered work benches and bright photos of new cars, offers a few hints to its owner’s other vocation. Beside the calendar featuring the latest automotive imports hang flyers advertising Torah and Hebrew courses. On the desk scattered with invoices sits a prayer book. A Jewish star dangles from the desk lamp beside a car-shaped picture frame, a mezuza hangs in the doorway and a guitar sits in the corner.

“There are not too many people like me who like the old melodies and keep them around,” said Baum, who works for Young Israel for free and spends several hours a week practicing.

The traditional melodies used by the Orthodox are relatively simple, and many are basic chants. The music is considered sacred, and cantors must stick to the traditional tunes, although they can use personal interpretation and improvisation within boundaries.

“We keep the same (melodies) out of respect for our traditions and respect for our forefathers,” Baum said.

The Conservatives combine traditional chants with big, florid liturgical pieces based on traditional tunes, and also incorporate some newer folk melodies. The Reform branch includes more modern folk tunes and the music is open to improvisation. Reform temples also tend to use accompaniment, including organ, guitar or piano.

“According to (Jewish law), the service should be done in a beautiful way, to help move people closer to God,” Baum said. “I think the vacuum (of cantors) will be filled sooner or later. It’s a part of our tradition, and it’s important, a beautiful service to God. I do it out of sheer love.

“The great chazzans are no longer appreciated in Orthodoxy. I’m trying to change that.”