Religion has long inspired music composition, just as music has shaped faith practices since the beginning of organized religion. The most prominent religious works of music are Christian, as almost every major classical composer has been Christian and written music about his relationship with God. In this age of diversified religious backgrounds and increased accessibility to a wide variety of musical genres, there is no excuse for the predominance of Christian music in classical domains.
At Cornell University, Chabad – a facet of the larger Hasidic Jewish organization – strives to provide its members the opportunity to experience spiritually and culturally Jewish traditions. Their virtual Klezmer concert on Thursday, October 8, was a wonderful example of how musical experiences are being preserved during the age of COVID-19. The concert, which was held over zoom, beautifully shared the stunning and spiritual music of Eastern European Jews with members of the Chabad community. Jennifer Levine’s clarinet-playing was energetic and exciting – her notes bouncing off one another as she moved her instrument along with its swells – while David Zakalik’s accordion kept the music steady and added a sweet heartiness to the melodies. Eventually, Rabbi Eli Silberstein joined the duo, his mahogany voice floating above the instruments.
As the director of Cornell Chabad, Rabbi Eli introduced the instrumentalists and briefly explained the significance of music during the holiday of Sukkot – the reason for the performance. While Rosh Hashanah welcomes the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur serves as an introspective time of repentance and forgiveness, Sukkot is a celebration of the hope of a new year. Before Levine and Zakalik lept back into their jubilant playing, Rabbi Eli invited his audience to take this time to be cheerful, saying, “Tonight let’s rejoice…now we embrace a whole new future!” And with that, the clarinet and accordion dove in again, echoing each others’ melodies and beckoning others at the Chabad house to clap and dance.
A week after the concert, I had the opportunity to interview Rabbi Eli about Klezmer and the broader contours of Hasidic music. He started by explaining that he knows more about Hasidic music, since he grew up with it, and less about the more secular Klezmer that evolved out of the traditional music. “Hasidic music is tied to a deep philosophy about life,” he explained, “most of the music was composed by spiritual people, whose music was just an extension of their faith.” For Hasidic Jews, their entire life revolves around Judaism and they spend much time reflecting on their relationship with God. Rabbi Eli shared a memory of his from childhood, when he witnessed a man who had been deeply reflecting and praying for hours, suddenly burst into song, with tears streaming down his face as once-hidden emotions escaped from the confines of his soul.
Rabbi Eli and I spent most of our time talking about the role that music plays in Judaism, and how this differs from music produced for the secular public. To him, “music is a vessel to arouse deep spiritual emotions. It enables you to transcend the stresses and constrains of life.” He explained that this is why very few Hasidic melodies have words. “Words are limited,” he said, “They cannot express an emotion that is deep-seated in the heart and has an intense energy to it.” The tune, the melody, is the only language that can express an emotion in the soul.” The aching notes of Zakalik’s accordion complemented by the fast-moving lines of Levine’s clarinet, reminded me of the fast-paced life that distracts us from reflecting on feelings that are hidden within us. Levine and Zakalik’s emotions could be felt through their instruments, their bodies moving along with the notes that they produced, beckoning me and others in the audience to feel the meaning behind the music being performed.
Jewish music has significantly developed since its origins, but still serves to unite the Jewish community, both in its cultural and spiritual significance. Rabbi Eli explained that initially, music was simply part of Jewish services, with choirs singing so that “the music could be heard all over Jerusalem. The music was meant to inspire within those attending a soulful turmoil and repentance.” Hasidic music aims to arouse spirituality in its listeners, playing the same role that music did in the first synagogues. Klezmer, on the other hand, “is a more cultural experience,” being played mostly during holidays and bar and bat mitzvahs…hence the charming Klezmer performance that Chabad held for Sukkot. The Klezmer style “evolved into the hands of Jews who were not as interested in the religious aspects of life, but wanted to be Jewish, culturally.” Even if Klezmer may be more secular than its Hasidic ancestor, the music is still unequivocally tied to spiritual Judaism and inspires those who listen to think more about their relationship to religion.
As a rarely spiritual person, I didn’t expect to feel particularly introspective when attending the Klezmer concert. To my surprise, the engagement of the audience – though mostly virtual aside from the few people in the Chabad house clapping along – paired with the dynamic songs brought me deep into the performance, enveloping me and igniting my curiosity about faith. I never felt fully comfortable sitting in a service and listening to people read religious texts; the liturgy always seemed so oddly formal. But being beckoned into the warm hospitable atmosphere of the Klezmer concert, with Rabbi Eli singing soulful syllables over the brisk and jovial tunes of the accordion and clarinet, I found solace. While I would love to say that the Klezmer concert was a spiritual awakening for me, that would be an immense exaggeration. The music did, however, evoke a curiosity in me about the role of religion in my life and what it would mean to be more spiritual. If I spent more time reflecting on my relationship to God, would I sing with the vigor that Rabbi Eli does? Is there a meaningful connection between singer and song that can only found in sacred music?