[HANASHIR:15445] Fw: finding one's voice

[Emily Blank <eblank...>]

----- Original Message ----- 
From: Talishira (at) aol(dot)com 
To: Women Cantors Network Mailing List 
Sent: Monday, September 29, 2003 9:48 AM
Subject: finding one's voice



The Lion & the Fox

By Yosef Y. Jacobson


Do you like your cantor?


On Rosh Hashanah night, the Kazaks captured the rabbi, the cantor and the 
president of the synagogue, and granted them a final wish before they would be 
put to death.

The Rabbi: All year round I prepare for my Rosh Hashanah sermon. You can't kill 
me before you let me present this sermon and get it out of my system.

"OK," proclaimed the Kazaks. "We well allow you to give the sermon." They 
turned to the cantor. "How about you? What is your final wish?"

"For 364 days a year, I prepare for my cantorial presentation on the High 
Holidays. For this year I composed many new brilliant and extraordinary 
compositions. You have to let me sing them before you kill me."

"Granted," said the Kazaks. "And you," they said, turning to the president, 
"what is your final wish?"

"Kill me first," he said.    


Sermons and melodies


It's been a longstanding tradition among Jewish communities the world over, to 
employ for the High Holiday services cantors, often accompanied by choirs, to 
entertain, engage and inspire the multitudes of crowds flocking to synagogues 
during the three days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

In many a congregation, the cantor embodies the primary focus of the High 
Holiday experience. As in a concert or opera, the cantor's choice of melodies, 
his cantorial skills and manipulation of sounds and pitches constitutes the 
zenith of the services. Especially if the musical presentation is coupled with 
a rabbi who knows how to tell a good joke or bring a tear to the eye, it is a 
hands-down success story.

"Spit not in the well from which you drink," suggests the Talmud. I should be 
the last one to find fault with this phenomenon, since I, too, am employed for 
the High Holidays by a lovely community in Aventura,  to serve as a cantor and 
pontificator. Yet a moving thought from the great master the Baal Shem Tov 
concerning this "cantor" and "rabbi" phenomenon may be worthwhile for all of us 
to reflect upon.


An angry lion


The Baal Shem Tov, one of the most profound thinkers in the history of Jewish 
spirituality, once shared this following allegorical story.  

Once upon a time, says the Baal Shem Tov, the lion grew furious with all of the 
other jungle animals. Since the lion is "the king of animal life," and is most 
powerful and dominant, his ire evoked deep fright in the hearts of the other 
animals. 

"What should we do?" murmured all the animals at an emergency meeting. "If the 
lion lets out his anger, we are all finished."

"No worries," came the voice of the fox, known as the wiliest of animals. "In 
the reservoirs of my brain are stored 300 stories, anecdotes and vignettes. 
When I present them to the lion, his mood will be transformed."

A wave of joy rushed through all the animals as they embarked on a march toward 
the lion's home in the jungle, where the fox would placate him and restore the 
friendly relationship between the lion and his subjects.


The fox forgets


During the journey through the jungle pathways, the fox suddenly turns to one 
of his animal friends and says, "You know, I forgot 100 of my entertaining 
stories."

Rumors of the fox's lapse of memory spread immediately. Many animals were 
overtaken by profound trepidation, but soon came the calming voice of Mr. Bear.

"No worries," he said. "Two hundred vignettes of a brilliant fox are more then 
enough to get that arrogant lion rolling in laughter and delight."

A little while later, as the extraordinarily large entourage of animals was 
nearing the lion, Mr. Fox suddenly turned to another colleague. "I have 
forgotten another 100 of my anecdotes," lamented the fox. "They simply slipped 
my mind." 

The animals' fear became stronger, but soon enough came the reassuring voice of 
Mr. Deer.

"No worries," he proclaimed, "One hundred fox stories will suffice to capture 
the imagination of our simple king."

A few moments later, all of the hundreds of thousands of animals were at the 
lion's den. The lion rose to his full might and glory, casting a fierce gaze at 
all of his subjects, sending a shiver through their veins.  


The moment of encounter


As the moment of truth arrived, all of the animals looked up with beseeching 
eyes to their bright representative the fox, to approach the lion and 
accomplish the great mission of reconciliation.

At that very moment, the fox turned to the animals and said, "I am sorry, but I 
forgot my last 100 stories. I have nothing left to say to the king."

The animals went into hysteria. "You are a vicious liar," cried they cried. 
"You deceived us completely. What are we to do now?"

"My job," responded the fox calmly, "was to persuade you to take the journey 
from your own nests to the lion's nest. I have accomplished my mission. You are 
here. Now, let each and every single one of you discover his own voice and 
rehabilitate his own personal relationship with the king."


Lacking a personal relationship


This story, concluded the Baal Shem Tov, illustrates a common problem in 
institutionalized religion. We come to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah or Yom 
Kippur, or any other time of the year, and we rely on the "foxes" -- the 
cantors and the rabbis -- to serve as our representative to the King of Kings.

"The rabbi's sermon today was unbelievable," we often proclaim after services. 
"He is really a very special man." Or, "That cantor? His vibrato just melted my 
soul." These clergy all-too-often become the "foxes" who know how to get the 
job done for us.

Yet, sooner or later, we come to realize that the foxes, with all due respect, 
don't really have what it takes to address the king on behalf of you and me. 
Each of us must discover his or her own inner voice and inner passion and 
spirit, and speak to G-d with a distinct and unique.  

Cantors and rabbis during the High Holidays (and the rest of the year) ought to 
view themselves as the Baal Shem Tov's fox: Their function is to persuade and 
inspire people to leave their own self-contained domains and embark on a 
journey toward something far more deeper and real. But each and every one of us 
must ultimately enter the space of G-d alone.

So this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, don't rely on any foxes. Speak to G-d 
directly. With your own words, with your own soul.



May the kevannah and beauty of you own voices be the shefa the flowing vessel 
for your congregants to find their own voices in as well.
Shana Tova tikatevu
Shalom v' L'hitraot  in DC

Tali Katz
~~~~~End~~~~~~


My gratitude to my brother Boruch Jacobson for showing me this moving metaphor 
of the Baal Shem Tov, published in his book Keser Shem Tov.