Music and Community at Tufts Hillel
Rabbi Jeffrey Summit

Every year, a few freshmen who come to services for the first time at Hillel tentatively approach me and say, "Rabbi, I enjoyed services but you know, you sing the wrong tunes here." "What are the 'right' tunes?" I ask. "The ones we sing at home!" Many Jews, especially during the Holidays, do not feel as though they have been to services unless they hear their favorite tunes for certain prayers. The tune, separate from the words, serves as a portal to the past, a connection with ancestors, real and imagined. The "right" tune grounds one in history and becomes an assurance of authenticity. The tune is a vehicle for transcendence. For many Jews who do not understand much Hebrew, the tune is the prayer. Cantors and rabbis who do not understand this are forever at odds with their congregations.

When I describe our work and mission at Hillel, I often say that just as our Hillel Center has many doors, our Jewish community has many points of entry. Some students come to be involved in social justice, others to learn more about Jewish texts and history. Many students simply want to spend time with other students who share their values and traditions. Still, every Shabbat, between 100 - 150 students come together for services, singing, food and socializing. I find that whether Jews are deeply religious or are struggling to define their relationship to God and spirituality, they have strong feelings about the music they sing in services. I have recently completed a book where I examine the power of music in Jewish worship and what that music tells us about who we are--and who we are not--as Jews.

In the course of my research with five different synagogues in the Boston area, I asked students exactly why they came to Hillel on Friday night. After all, a broad range of activities compete for their attention. Many students stated that they looked to Hillel for a ready-made community, a welcoming environment, a break from the intense pace of the week. One student explained that during the week, he met other students in a variety of organizational, classroom or sports settings, yet these activities told him little about that person's deeper values and commitments. This student explained that Friday evening was different and said, "You go to Hillel and you have a common bond. I feel really close to them. It's kind of like home; I can just relax."

Many students stressed that the tunes used at services were an important component that made them feel comfortable, especially when they were new in the community. A student explained, "Part of going to a service on a Friday night is that you get a warm feeling of camaraderie. You all have a common heritage, and ... if you go to some place new and the tunes are the same, you do feel a little bit more like you belong." Through this music, students have developed ties to one another that nurture and sustain them throughout the week. The singing on Shabbat created a connection that students looked forward to and valued. While some students have a strong Jewish background, many others are just beginning to learn and explore their religious traditions. It is common to have students use the service as a quiet time, to reflect on the week and collect their thoughts.

For the most part, the music at Hillel on a Friday night is quite different from their home congregations. The music of Camp Ramah and United Synagogue Youth has influenced the music in the Conservative service. When these students come to Hillel, they find--and strive to maintain--this style of enthusiastic participatory, peer-led prayer. So too, Hillel's Reform service that is marked by beautiful, enthusiastic singing led by anywhere between one and four students playing guitars. Students begin the service by sharing some aspect of their week and music is taught so that new participants, without a youth group background, are able to follow and participate. While this service is clearly influenced by the music of the National Federation of Temple Youth, a particular style has evolved that feels more like college than high school.

I am convinced that the style of worship, even more than the content of the liturgy, plays a major factor in whether or not many Jews find prayer meaningful and fulfilling. Style makes people feel either at home or uncomfortable and alienated from communal prayer. Ultimately, it affects whether or not many Jews attend and affiliate with synagogues. Many Jews take the pulse of a congregation very quickly by paying attention to the style of music used in worship. I speak with many Jews who grew up in congregations where they felt the patient was barely breathing. For them, prayer in their previous worship communities was simply uninspired, lacking spirit, breath and life. I know this from my experience as a Jew who participates actively in communal worship, both as a worshiper and as a leader of prayer. I often find prayer a meaningful, and occasionally, a deeply moving experience. Yet in certain settings, the style of music makes the worship feel dead to me. I am personally and professionally conscious that Jewish prayer, and the Siddur in particular, are not especially user-friendly to the uninitiated. The rich, multi-leveled Hebrew language of the traditional prayerbook is incomprehensible to many worshippers and even for the dedicated student, it takes years to develop linguistic fluency with the prayers. Thus, music becomes increasingly important in worship.

Many students participate fully and enthusiastically from the first moment they walk into the Hillel Center. But new students are continually coming to learn more, to explore, to deepen their interests and knowledge. It is essential to set them at ease and make them feel, as much as possible, comfortable and at home. I have had the best results, both on Shabbat and during the High Holidays, by simply naming the problem as I welcomed new students to the first services of the year: "Welcome to Tufts Hillel. We come from many different congregations and many different traditions. For better and worse, this is not the same as the congregation where you grew up. Some songs will be familiar, some will be new. It's great to welcome you here and I hope that, if you come back several times, this service will feel more and more like it belongs to you." Students have told me that this helps.

Other things help as well. In both services, leaders often teach new songs. This year, we are making cassette tapes available to students who want to learn the melodies and prayers on their own so they will be more comfortable coming to services. A member of the Conservative service recently transcribed and transliterated all the music and made a book available for any student who wants to refer to it during the service. I often talk about different prayers, explaining their meaning and significance. And of course, when we study the music in services, we end up exploring so much more: the texts of the liturgy, our history as a people and the power of transcendent community.

I am more and more convinced that Shabbat is the signature mitzvah for the year 2000 (or 5761, depending on how we are counting). We run at such an intense pace. Peace and quiet seem increasingly beyond our reach. Shabbat helps us reclaim certain essential values, encouraging us to sit with friends, to eat leisurely, to sing together, reflect and establish true, supportive community. Music plays a role in all of these activities.

In many conversations, students spoke about the simple power of singing together. The music on Shabbat becomes a transformative occasion as well as an opportunity to experience community on a deeper level. These tunes allow an individual to hear and feel what it means to blend voice and breath, to create, even temporarily, a transcendent community of palpable beauty and harmony.

Parts of this essay are adapted from Rabbi Summit's new book, The Lord's Song in a Strange Land: Music and Identity in Contemporary Jewish Worship (Oxford University Press 2000).