With the passing of Joseph Rosenblatt, Jewish life lost one of the few remaining possessors and examples of the real cantoreal art. With  his remarkable natural vocal organ he achieved marvelous results, which very few attain, even after a life-time of technical training. For in  Joseph Rosenblatt one had all the elements which Jewish history has taught us to associate with the cantor. He was the real Shaliach  Tsibbur (messenger of the people). He was always conscious of it, and constantly felt it. Pious, self-respecting, respecting others,  learned, and above all, loving his calling, he was at all times a "chazan".

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The chazan in the diaspora became a very important figure in Jewish life. He was to begin with, the inheritor of the Levitical chants which  were sounded in the Holy Temple during the daily services and sacrifices which took place in Jerusalem. He intoned the Liturgy which now  replaced these ancient rites and chants. There were periods in Jewish history when the cantor was of such importance, that he  improvised and composed portions of the liturgy. A shining example of this epoch was Elieser Kalir, the great poet-chazan of the seventh  century. As time progressed into the 10th and 11th centuries and people crossed the paths of the people whose music was rapidly  developing scientifically, the cantors in these countries lent an attentive ear to this musical progress, and gave up some of their Jewish  scholastic attainments, for musical advancement.

The cantor throughout the days of the exile was the bright light of the Jewish community. It was he who led the community in prayer in  times of joy and sorrow. He asauged the Jewish soul with consoling intonation of the prayers, after catastrophe and misfortune. He  intoned the Yom Kippur Katon liturgy in times of distress.

On the other hand it was he who brought solace and comfort to the soul of the Jew on Sabbaths Holy days, after weekdays of pain and  persecution. No wedding ceremony or funeral service was complete without him. He was the voice of the Jewish soul. The musical  impulse of the Jew which developed during Palestinian days could not be stemmed when he was driven into exile. He wanted to sing and  had to sing. His ear was constantly open to musical movements of the people with whom he sojourned. He could not, and would not go to  the concert hall and opera house for many reasons, most important of which was a religions one. In many cases, he was prohibited from  attending such performances, and so the cantor became the musical source for the Jewish community. When the Jew went to the  synagogue he prayed, to be sure, but he wanted to "hear something" from the cantor. It is this condition which gave rise to the lengthy  elaborations of the prayers by the cantor, which led him to repeat a phrase or word a number of times and sometimes to extend a Friday  evening service from two to three hours.

Many were the illustrious cantors throughout Europe during the 18th and 19th centuries. Many became beloved not only in their own cities  and towns, but even outside the communities in which they lived. Some of the distinguished cantors of the 19th century were Solomon  Kashtan, his son, Hersh Weintraub, Israel Loewy, Solomon Sulzer, Solomon Naumbourg, Pincus Minkowsky, Tsalel Oddeser, Yeruchum  Hakoton, Baruch Schorr and in our own day, the late Joseph Rosenblatt. There is still a sprinkling of this type of Chazan here in America,  and abroad.

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When the period of enlightenment broke upon the Jews of Europe at the beginning of the 19th century, many changes took place in the  communal and personal life of the Jew. It was, for example, the intention of the German Jew to Germanise himself so as to become more  German than the German. Our people in all countries where equal rights were granted, began to mingle freely with their neighbors. This  new condition led to changes in culture, dress, tastes, and habits.

The synagogue witnessed a change at this time too, with the appearance of the German Jewish Reform Movement. In many cases the  cantor was immediately eliminated. There were two reasons for this action: one, because the manner of the musical rendition of the liturgy  seemed too oriental; two, because these Jews began to hear the singers in concert halls and opera houses, and so could not tolerate the  mediocre singing of cantors whose voices were not trained, and musical taste bad.

A new day had come for the cantor. He was obliged, when the slightest manner of reform set in, to quickly re-adapt himself to this  changing condition, or fall entirely out of the religious picture. Solomon Sulzer (1804-1890) in Vienna at this time, realized this condition  and was the first to re-shape the art of the cantor. He injected new life into this art, which enabled it to make great progress throughout  the 19th century and by whose impetus it struggles in our day for existence.

Wherein did Sulzer differ from his predecessors? He was, first of all, one who possessed Jewish learning as well as a secular education.  His voice was beautiful, and well-trained, so that it even moved Franz Liszt who once heard him in Vienna at a Friday evening service. He  dispensed with the superfluous melodic elaborations of the East-European Cantor. He dispensed with the superfluous repetition of words  and phrases. He injected a classical interpretation into his musical renditions, and ordered and perfected to a high degree the choral  singing of the synagogue choir. It would be wrong to imagine he eliminated the traditional nusach of the synagogue though he changed  many of these modes. He, on the other hand, did take most of these traditional modes and set them down for the first time in musical  notation with and without choral accompaniment, in such a style, as to please the Jews of that day who now wanted refinement and good  musical taste in the synagogue.

Sulzer's influence spread over all of Western Europe and even filtered through the iron gates of the orthodox synagogue. So that today  Sulzer is the great idol of all cantors.

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A new condition faced the cantor in this country in the middle of the 19th century, at the begining of the reform movement. The cantor was  confronted with a new prayer book and a new liturgy. Where was he to get his music for all of this? For the early cantors in America were  mostly incapable of composing (with the exception of Welch, Goldstein and Kaiser,) and so they sought the help of the Gentile organists  who complied with their requests and who composed almost all the music heard in the reform synagogues up to a few years ago.
 
With the musical creativity out of his hands the only thing left for the cantor, was to study own part and come to the synagogue and sing it.  He was no longer to be the one who was to feel the musical pulse of the synagogue, and inject into it its musical spirit. He became just a  performer, and  in many cases, an inferior one of mediocre music.

Congregants began to feel that the synagogue lacked an important element; that element which they wanted to find in the synagogue  only. In its stead they found a poor singer who was singing music that had little individuality or style. For is it not the traditional mode of  the synagogue which gives our synagogue its character and spirit? Our traditional music has that power to either inject or reject it.
 
What we hear today in most of our synagogues is music which is either quasi-operatic or Protestant in nature and style. And why should  our people come to the synagogue to hear this music when they can today stay at home, and hear the finest operatic and religious music  beautifully sung by fine and well-trained choruses.

For these deficiencies the need of the cantor is unfortunately gradually vanishing. For he is not alive to the real prevailing situations. He  fails to realize that if he is to maintain his position and prestige as of old, he must gather his old threads and re-weave them into new  patterns. He must constantly be at work, especially on the proper production of his voice. He must be a serious student of music and  become aware of what is constantly taking place in the development of the musical art; (some cantors never move their musical  appreciation beyond 1850). He must study the history of synagogue music, become acquainted with its vast literature, and try in his own  way and perhaps with the help of others, to re-shape the old material and perhaps create new material, so as to meet the requirements of  this time and age, and his own immediate condition. Above all, and of most importance, he must feel that his Judaism is not a matter of  business, but an integral part of his spiritual make-up. He must possess a certain degree of learning which is indispensable so that his  musical renditions may become saturated with the histort and traditions of our people. With such a ground he will be enabled to interpret  the prayers of his people in a way as to move his congregation and make them feel that only in the synagogue can they get that spiritual  inspiration and nowhere else.
 
If the cantor is to re-claim his importance in synagogue life, he must again become conscious of the true meaning of his ancient title Shaliach  tsibbur, constantly revere his position, so that our people will again revere and value it.

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In 1934 Jacob Beimel, in New York, started a journal of Jewish music, which he called 'Jewish Music.'

Unfortunately it only survived for five issues.

Below are four articles form the first issue of July 1934.

The human soul, which expresses itself in religious beliefs and customs, finds a medium for the utterance of its varied impressions in  music also. Moreover, even its nourishment, the human soul itself, receives from these two attributes, religion and music.
 
There exists, therefore, in the human mind, from time immemorial, a strong and unseparable bond between Divinity and the Art of Music.  In the pagan world and among nations with polytheistic beliefs, the religious services were accompanied by music. This art was so  endeared to the ancient nations that among their many gods, there was always one who took care of it and was its special patron. In  ancient Greece, for instance, among the nine Muses presiding over the Arts, there was one who presided over the art of music especially.

Among the nations confessing a monotheistic religion, of whatever beliefs and customs it may consist, music, vocal, instrumental or both  combined, continued and still continues to constitute an integral part of the divine services. The Christian religion knows even of a saint,  St. Cecilia, who is the patron of musicians. In Judaism, the religion of pure monotheism, there can be no approach to the Almighty without  song, because it is He "Who maketh choice of song" (Habocheir B'shirei Zimro).
 
The principal morning prayers which begin with "Bor'chu", are preceded by "Verses of Song" (P'sukei D'Zimro) consisting of psalms  referring to song as praise to the Almighty. Special glorifying hymns are added to these psalms in the Sabbath morning services. We read  then: "With song shall be glorified Thy name, O our King, in every generation." The prayers for Sabbath eve likewise commence with  psalm (95) referring to song and praise, the first verse of which begins with the words, "Oh, let us sing unto the Lord" -  L'chu N'ranenoh  Lashem.
 
The importance of using music in the approach of God is abundantly illustrated by many passages in the Bible and Talmud, upon few of  which we shall dwell here.

The High Priest, whose qualifications for his office could not be conditioned, of course, by the ability to sing or play a musical instrument,  while entering the sanctuary, had to make himself audible at least by the pleasing sound of golden bells which were attached to his  vestment, for the purpose of avoiding danger of death: " . . . and bells of gold between them round about; a golden bell and a  pomegranate . . . upon the skirts of the robe round about. And it shall be upon Aaron to minister; and the sound thereof shall be heard  when he goeth in unto the holy place before the Lord and when he cometh out that he die not" (Exodus 28, 33-35).

It seems that it was considered dangerous to the life of the High Priest to enter the sanctuary without any sound, even if the sound was  only of golden bells.

Many explanations of the purpose of these bells were offered by scholars of the Bible and archeologists. History tells us that the early  Christians used bells at their services, a custom which has remained in the Catholic Churches to the present day. Students of the history  of religion derive this custom from the bells which were attached to the robe of the High Priest.

A musical instrument had to be used also when Israel wished to be especially remembered before his God both in times of gladness and  distress. Israel then had to sound the trumpet: "Also in the days of your gladness and in your appointed seasons and in your new moons,  ye shall blow with the trumpet over your burned offerings and over the sacrifices of your peace offerings; and they shall be to you a  memorial before your God" (Numbers 10, 10).
 
Then again: "And when ye go to war in your land against the adversary that oppreseth ye, then ye shall sound the trumpets and ye shall be  remembered before the Lord your God and ye shall be saved from your enemies" (Numbers 10, 9).

We see that the Jews used music to approach their God, not only in usual prayer, but in all events, whenever they desired to be  remembered by Him.

Assuming this predilection of God for music, the Prophets often utilized this art for the purpose of having the divine spirit come to rest  upon them and thus to be able to prophesy.

The Prophet Elisha, a disciple of Elijah, for instance, was asked to prophesy whether the war against the Moabites would be won. Elisha,  after some hesitation, was willing to prophesy, provided a musician would be called to play before him; "And it came to pass, when the  musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him" (Second Kings, 3, 15).

An apparent indication of the connection between music and prophecy, we see also in the story about Saul before he became King of  Israel, when his father sent him to look for the lost asses. As a sign that he would become King, he was told thus: "Thou shalt meet a band  of prophets coming down from the high place with psaltery and a timbrel and a flute and a harp before them and they will be prophesying.  And the Spirit of the Lord will come upon thee and thou shalt prophesy with them" (First Samuel 10 5-6).

Evidence of the kinship between prophecy and music can also be found in the fact that the title Chozeh was applied to the prophet as well  as to the musician (Second Kings 17, 13; Second Chronicles 25, 30). Moreover, the Hebrew verb denoting prophesying (Numbers 11, 25,  etc.) as well as playing a musical instrument (First Chronicles, 25, 1).

This fact may be explained perhaps by assuming that the prophets used to deliver their prophecies before the people in a sort of chanting  which was accompanied by a musical instrument.

Music was also employed when it was necessary to make the Divine Spirit rest once again upon a individual. Melancholy, for instance, was  considered in ancient times as the result of the fact that th spirit of the Lord had left the one afflicted and that an evil spirit came to rest  upon him instead (First Samuel 16, 14). Of course, this affliction could then be remedied by inducing Divinity to make its spirit rest upon  the sick person once more and thus cause the evil spirit to depart. This could only be achieved by the one means in which Divinity found  its greatest favour, namely by music.
 
Thus we find that when the evil spirit terrified King Saul, the latter was advised to have a musicia play before him. Such a musician was  found in the person of the young shepherd David, the son ofJesse: "And it came to pass, when the (evil) spir from God was upon Saul, that  David took his harp and played with his hand; so Saul found relief and it was well with him, and the evil spirit depart from him" (First  Samuel 16, 23).

David later became the illustrious King of Israel and by virtue of his psalms and musicianship, the Jewish folklore titled him the "Sweet  singer of Israel." He gave the impetus to the glorious development of the art of music during the time of the first Temple and even of the  second, and when we speak of David the Psalmist, we speak at the same time of David the musician.

Among the many legends and commentaries regarding the poetical and musical genius of David there is a touching explanation why some  of the psalms are headed by the words "David's Psalm," with the word "David" first and the word "Psalm" second, while others are  headed "A Psalm of David", with the word "Psalm first and the word "David" second. The Talmud explains that where the headline of the  psalm is "David's Psalm", it means that the divine spirit, the Schechinah, came to rest upon him before began to compose the psalm,  while the headline, Psalm of David" indicates that the divine spirit came upon him, after the composing of the psalm had already begun.

Indeed, a wonderful explanation of the tie between divine inspiration and creative work.
 
The inseparable bond between God and the art of music is expressed time and again in the whole vast post-Biblical literature, such as the  Talmud, the Midrashim, the Piyutim, and especially in the Kabbalistic and Chassidic writings.

"The gates of song precede the gates of repentance, " said a Chassidic saint, Rabbi Pinchos of Koretzer.

"The Temple of Song is nearest to the source of holiness," said Rabbi Nachman Bratzlawer, another Chassidic sage.

"There are gates in heaven which can be opened by song alone," is a well-known Kabbalistic saying.

Indeed, the Jewish conception of the relationship between Divinity and the art of music is as old as Israel. No wonder that a people,  cherishing such a conception was destined to occupy a distinguished place in the world of this divine art - the Art of Music.

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