The Future Rabbinical Student Who Was Fascinated by the Cantorate

Friday was another "I love hazzanut!" day. Why? I discovered something. Alberto Mizrahi has a blog. My second-favorite cantor, one of the best-known modern cantors in the entire world, has a blog.


Wow.


I have met Hazzan Mizrahi twice. I went to Anshe Emet for Simchat Torah with my mother when I was 8 years old and had a lot of fun - my mom and I skipped up and down the streets of Chicago singing "Anenu, anenu b'yom koreinu!" The second time was February 2009, when I was looking at colleges. My dad and I spent Shabbat in Chicago. My aunt knew I wanted to go to Anshe Emet very badly on Shabbat morning, so she took me. At kiddush, Hazzan Mizrahi was extremely approachable and glad to hear about my college travels (a New Yorker looking for colleges with premier Jewish Studies departments, lots of access to delicious kosher food, and an active Hillel with an active Koach chapter).


In addition, that weekend was the scholar-in-residence weekend for Anshe Emet. Dr. Ben Sommer, a Bible professor at JTS, was speaking. His talk was fascinating. I remember thinking that I wanted professors that were as engaging as he was and subject material that was as interesting as his. I went to Chicago to see what Northwestern and University of Chicago were like and fell further in love with List College :)


But I digress. Let's go back to cantors.


Cantors practice a sacred art. They connect our communities through liturgical song. Their nusach is spellbinding. They are our teachers, passing on the sacred art to us all. Being a shaliach tzibbur or a Torah reader is one of the biggest thrills in the world; it means that you have felt that sacred art and you can revel in it. Leading a service makes me the happiest person in the world.


When there's a nusach that I don't know, a service that I cannot yet lead, I don't mind sitting on the sidelines. My cantor's voice is entrancing. I am a huge supporter of the empowerment of laity, but I cannot deny the power of the voice that came from the cantorial school and into my shul. The voice reminds me of keva and kavannah and puts me in the mindset that I need in order to pray and speak with God. Take Unetaneh Tokef from the High Holiday musaf amidah. The prayer paints a picture of the Day of Judgement, the holiest day of the year, as it happens in the realm of the divine. The climax of the prayer, in my mind is at this point:


"The great shofar will be sounded and a still, thin sound will be heard. Angels will hasten, a trembling and terror will seize them—and they will say, 'Behold, it is the Day of Judgment..."


It's quite a powerful moment combined with the voice of my cantor. He sings the words "hinei yom ha-din!" and every single time, I shiver. I am in the right mindset; I am ready to confront the holiness of the day, for its significance has just been brought to life.


A cantor's voice makes me think, jump for joy, tear, and smile. When I listened to Alberto Mizrahi sing Chad Gadya with my sister when I was younger, my sister and I laughed as we tried to imitate his joyful style. I once heard my cantor duet with Charles Osborne and was captivated by the rapport between the two voices.


I find our cantors inspiring and exciting. To meet clergy who have accomplished so much and to hear them practice their art means a lot to a layperson like me. So when we see clergy like Alberto Mizrahi sharing their words with us in the form of a blog, we get to hear the words of these amazing people. We get to hear about the exciting new projects that they are working on. We get a glimpse of their world, a world of practicing a sacred art, a world where one learns to transport another with a voice. I've always wondered what it must be like to be a cantor and how one develops the ability to take us on a Jewish journey with just the sound of his/her voice. With something like Mizrahi's blog, I can discover the answer.


The medium of film has also been used to help us enter the world of the cantor. Erik Anjou's "A Cantor's Tale" was fascinating to me; as the audience journeyed with Jackie Mendelson back to Borough Park, Brooklyn, the audience saw where cantorial music came from and where Mendelson's voice came from. In a new film called "100 Voices: A Journey Home", the audience follows the Cantors Assembly on its summer 2009 trip to Poland. On the website (http://100voicesmovie.com/index.html), Poland is called "the birthplace of Cantorial music". The trailer gives the impression to the viewer that each cantor that went on the trip and explored the birthplace of their art went on a personal journey as a Jew and as a cantor. I cannot wait to view this film to enter into their world and see how these cantors have been changed. After seeing what a childhood can do, I wonder what a certainly emotional trip like this does for their art. It is being shown around the country on September 21 at 7pm local time - see the website for theatres. 


As you out there in cyberspace are following this blog (and I hope you're inviting your friends to join in), I'll be following the blog of my second-favorite cantor, preferably while listening to him on iTunes. I hope I'll be discovering what it takes for my favorite cantor to make me positively fearful during Unetaneh Tokef. I know, especially after September 21, I will walk into a shul and listen with much greater appreciation for the cantor and with even more wonder.