Judaism and Music - Keeping Two Streams Separate

Where's the bass player?

I have just returned from an abortive attempt to play the bass at a Friday night service. I had been concerned about this particular temple because of the minimal attendance but even more because of the erratic and unprepared nature of the cantor.

Tonight, I arrived on time and was ready to go, but she worked with two other musicians exclusively on a new song. I sat and listened for half an hour, doing nothing. Finally, we began on what was to be our second piece at the upcoming service. I played it through, and it sounded nice. She then decided that I should simply play the root of the chord for each measure, and proceeded to dictate these to me.

I decided then that this was not going to work for me. I packed my bass and came home.

I have believed for a while now that I could combine my love of music with my exploration of Judaism but that does not appear to be working for me. I have now played in a few different places and I am finding that I don't enjoy it. The parts are simple and repetitious--if there's one written at all--and are sometimes required with no rehearsal. There is lots of waiting around before and during the service. I am not having fun, and, with so much real music to play, I don't need this. So for now, I am separating music from my religions studies, until the time comes to reconsider under other circumstances. Maybe a Renewal congregation, filled with ecstatic worshippers, will change my mind.

Oddly, when I played the Faure Requiem in an Episcopal church last November, it was a wonderful experience. The piece itself took some hard work and the bass had a beautiful and worthwhile part to contribute. Of course, playing with several fine musicians, an 18-member choir and an organ was fine too. But that was church music!

It's hard enough for me to revisit Judaism in the first place. I remember attending services in a number of different temples as a kid and not really enjoying it that much. I got fidgety sitting on a hard, flat bench and repeating words written in a book that didn't mean anything to me. I didn't really need to watch a show. It seemed foreign and unfamiliar, and it felt like the other people knew each other--but I was alone.

My bar mitzvah training consisted of a few lonely months in a brand new place to which I had just moved the summer  before. Religious school on Sunday mornings when I was in the 9th and 10th grade seemed mostly irrelevant and a waste of a good weekend day.

I went to Israel in 1974 to get away from college for a while. Although it started out as a grand adventure, I spent nearly all my time on the kibbutz, which became a narrow routine, especially when my half days of Hebrew study ended after six months. I learned that I was very much an American, and although the Israelis and I shared a common heritage we did not share a common upbringing or attitude. 

So--what am I looking for now? Why am I devoting regular time and attention in 2012 to learning more about Judaism?

Well, there are some questions that aren't answered by music--or by what you do at your job. I want to understand more about life--and where I fit (and don't fit). I want to start asking the right kinds of questions. I think that the ancient tradition to which I am an heir is a fine place to start. And I have.

But I think I'll keep music, which is doing just fine, thank you, out of the picture.