Give Me That Old Time Religion

I attended services at another congregation this morning. I won’t identify it because at least that way I’m limiting the lashon ha-ra. I feel kind of finky writing about my experience, because the occasion was the bar mitzvah of the son of a dear friend. With that in mind, maybe this entry is best read as an appreciation of my own congregation in Brooklyn.

This was a Saturday morning “bar mitzvah service” in a Reform congregation, so perhaps it’s an unfair sample. But what I saw, and I emphasize saw, reminded me more of a Broadway musical than a participatory religious service. The cantor had a lovely voice and that’s about all I can say for her. Alongside its ritual, cultural and legal traditions, Judaism has a rich musical tradition as well. I had no sense that any of that has made an impression on this cantor. It could have been a performance of the Lion King just as well as a Shabbas morning services. Even worse than the cantor herself was what I’ll call the musical staging. Good liturgical music is kind of like good umpiring. Done well, it adds greatly to the experience, but you don’t want to notice it too much. And if you notice it a lot, there’s probably something wrong.

Unfortunately, I was aware of the music in a negative way at every point in the service. It started with unnecessary background music as we were invited to introduce ourselves to our neighbors in the pews, proceeded with the cantor’s showy -- and unnecessary -- crescendos, and culminated with the vocal and instrumental overlay as the rabbi conferred his benediction on the bar mitzvah. The benediction was a show in itself. We had the distinct impression that the rabbi, whom we couldn’t possibly hear over the music, exaggerated his gesticulations in conjunction with the music to create a visual mood. The scene had the quality of one of those theatrical segments from the Ed Sullivan Show, except with Ed would have given us Zero Mostel, the choreography of Jerome Robbins and the cast of Fiddler.

Perhaps I’m out of line criticizing a congregation to which I’ll probably never return. This is a community that’s been around for more than 150 years and appears to be on top of its game. Still, I’m glad I belong to a place where the commitment to continuity with the tradition is more apparent. That can mean a lot of things – more commentary on the texts, more authenticity in the ritual, more of an effort to promote participation and maybe most important more judgment about bringing secularity into a religious service. I’m all for a rabbi speaking out, and forcefully, on the important ethical issues of our times. And if this sometimes means politics, so be it. The ability to connect modern issues to our ethical and textual traditions may be rabbinics at its best. What we got this morning, however, was an extended talk about Gerry Ford’s legacy (and to be fair also about Teddy Kollek, although the forced comparison between the two really rang wrong).

The rabbi where I daven has a multitude of talents, but one of the things I like most about him is the sense of community he constantly engenders. By this, I mean both our immediate community in Brooklyn, and the community of the ages inherited by every generation of Jews. I didn’t have any sense of that this morning. It was just a little too slick.