I grew up in a large Conservative synagogue, where the bulk of the High Holy Day prayers were sung completely in in Hebrew.
More than three long hours of prayers in Hebrew that I didn't understand.
As I got older and developed an ear for music, the beautiful melodies captured my attention in spite of the fact that I didn't understand the words.
When I decided to become a cantor in the Reform movement, my family had the opportunity to hear me lead services on the first day of Rosh Hashanah -- services with music sung in a mixture of Hebrew and English.
On the second day -- at least while I was living in New York -- we would go back to the synagogue I grew up at.
Struck by the vast differences in musical style and length of services, my brother commented that he preferred having the service conducted entirely in Hebrew -- even if he didn't understand it all and even if it took a lot longer.
He said there was something soothing about sitting there and letting the Rabbi and Cantor take the lead. Occasionally, he would join in with the most familiar congregational melodies.
In Hebrew, he could just listen. He didn't have to process or think about what was being said.
For some, like my brother, the magic of the High Holy Days is simply in the idea of being there. Of listening.
For some, it's in the opportunity to actively engage with and think about text. To do this effectively, it often means that certain prayers are better approached in English so that they can be more accessible to non-Hebrew speakers.
For others, it's in the music -- whether or not they understand what the words are about.
The Chasidic master Rabbi
Yisrael ben Eliezer, better known as the Baal Shem Tov, recounts a story of a boy
who brought his flute to synagogue on Yom Kippur. The boy didn’t know the
prayers, but was moved by the music and the spirituality of the service. At
first, he sat in quiet frustration, unsure of how to express his connection
with the liturgy. Towards the end of Neilah,
the final service, the boy took his flute out of his pocket and blew a long and
powerful note.
The congregation was startled
by the sound of the flute, staring at the boy disapprovingly. The boy’s father
was mortified. But the Baal Shem Tov continued to pray with more fervor than
ever before addressing the congregation as follows, paraphrased by S.Y. Agnon
in Days of Awe:
“With the sound of his flute
this child lifted up all the prayers and eased my burden. For this child does
not know anything but… the prayer’s holy spark kindled an actual fire in him,
and the flame of his longing burned higher and higher until his soul nearly
expired. Because of the strength of his longing he played the note of his heart
truly without any distraction, for the sole sake of the Name of G-d. Now, the
clean breath of his lips was very acceptable to Him, and by this means all the
prayers were lifted up.”
The Baal Shem Tov’s words
teach us many things that can enhance our High Holy Day worship. Whether we are
singing the prayers, reading the texts, or just simply being, our contributions
matter. Even as individuals, we each have the ability to lift both our prayers and
the prayers of the entire congregation to heaven.
Indeed, there are many ways to
pray. Although the boy in this story was unable to pray in a conventional sense,
his deep kavanah, or intention,
allowed him to commune with the divine. On Rosh Hashanah morning, we read the
story of Hannah, which discusses the evolution of spontaneous prayer. Hannah’s
husband mistook her seemingly odd way of praying as a drunken stupor. Her
heartfelt desire to be a mother, expressed through biblical song as opposed to
prose, was finally met with the birth of her son, Samuel.
For both Hannah and the boy in
the Baal Shem Tov’s story, music was the conduit that facilitated their
connection with prayer. Over the course of the High Holy Days, we sing many
different styles of music that will evoke various memories and emotions. The
diversity of our High Holy Day music allows us to look at our liturgy from many
angles, both as individuals and as a community.
My hope is that that the many sounds of the High Holy Days will give you a chance to raise your voices in joyful song and to explore the many different facets of our liturgy. The music colors the prayers in such a way that you will eventually come to understand them in a deeply personal way.

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