 |
|||||||||||
                     |
|
ON TOUR IN ITALY, ZAMIR REVIVES MUSIC OF THE FIRST JEWISH CHORAL COMPOSER Just behind the Roman Coliseum, where gladiators once competed, stands one of the saddest sights for the Jewish traveler—the Arch of Titus, which depicts Jewish slaves forced to carry the menorah, the silver trumpets and other treasures of the destroyed Bet HaMikdash in 70 CE.
"I assembled the choir under the arch to say, here we are," says Dr. Joshua Jacobson, chorale director and founder. "To say, we're back and our culture is alive and the Roman Empire is gone." "You look up at this symbol you've seen in books," says alto Caroll Goldberg, director of performing arts for the Rabbi Joseph H. Lookstein Upper School of Ramaz in New York. "It was very emotional—standing free and singing as a free people." The Zamir Chorale went to Italy to build bridges of understanding, hoping to make the richness of Italian-Jewish culture better known to both Jews and non-Jews. It also wanted to continue its Sacred Bridges initiative, which promotes interfaith connections by holding concerts of Jewish music in Catholic communities. "Two thousand years ago, Italy was ten percent Jewish," says Jacobson. "Though most Jews today don't think of Italy as a center of Jewish culture, Italy is home to the oldest Diaspora community in Europe." Italian Jewry is unique, he says. "It's not Ashkenazi; it's not Sephardi; it's Italian. And these Jews are very proud of their ability to integrate their Jewish and Italian identities." Sixty-three people participated in the two-week tour of Jewish Italy—36 choir members and their significant others; Dr. Benjamin Ravid of Brandeis University, the tour's scholar-in-residence; plus staff and tourists. They visited Jewish and Christian historical sites and performed seven concerts in churches, synagogues and theaters, as well as impromptu performances on piazzas and street corners. In Florence and Rome they were joined by local Jewish community choruses. "We brought our music to audiences unfamiliar with it," says trip organizer Marilyn Jaye, a soprano with Zamir since 1994 and Financial Services Administrator at Hebrew College. Jacobson notes that his greatest disappointment was not being able to sing for the Pope: "Last year we received an invitation from Cardinal Caspar, head of the Vatican's office for Jewish relations. But the week we planned to be in Rome, it seemed that the entire Vatican leadership was on vacation. So we had to content ourselves with an impromptu performance in St. Peter's Square." But the main focus of the tour was on the music of Salamone Rossi Hebreo. Rossi was a singer, violinist and composer at the court of Mantua from 1587 until 1628. In 1622 he published a collection of music that was not only the first of its kind, but it would also remain unique for two centuries. This was Rossi's anthology of 33 choral compositions, in the style of the music of his day, but set to the words of the Jewish liturgy. Since its first season in 1969, Zamir has been singing Rossi's stunning synagogue music; now they were bringing it back to its land of origin.
For nearly 20 centuries, beautiful music has received a mixed welcome by Jewish communities. After the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, as a sign of mourning, musical performance was discouraged. While music was allowed (even required) in synagogue worship, it was highly circumscribed. Musical instruments were forbidden, and the rabbinic authorities were constantly berating cantors who imported melodies from the non-Jewish world. Rossi's choral music was condemned by some and praised by others. Rabbi Moses Coimbran of Ferrara proclaimed, "It is not proper to do this, for joyous song and praises set to artful music have been forbidden since the Temple was destroyed." In 1605, Rabbi Leon Modena, a passionate lover of music, was compelled to write a responsum approving the performance of Rossi's composition in the synagogue. His conclusion left little room for disagreement: "I do not see how anyone with a brain in his skull could cast any doubt on the propriety of praising God in song in the synagogue on special Sabbaths and on festivals." Some Italian rabbis today still forbid men and women singing together in their houses of worship. Zamir's concert in Florence was performed in the outdoor courtyard in front of the Great Synagogue, in deference to this ban. And in Venice the group was denied permission to sing Rossi's Psalm settings while visiting the grave of Rabbi Leon. "It was ironic," says Jacobson, "that we were prevented from singing at the tomb of the very rabbi who encouraged Rossi to compose for the synagogue and who successfully defended this same music four centuries ago." As Zamir traveled this summer from city to city, however, its members were wowed by the Italians' appreciation for their concerts, by the way the Italian love of beauty made its way into Jewish culture and by the marvelous acoustics all over Italy. In Casale Monferrato, Jaye remembers, "They have a gorgeous synagogue, built in the 1590s, where we performed to a packed house of Jews and non-Jews, including the town's bishop. They were a wonderful audience." Recalling Zamir's last performance, Goldberg says, "We had to exit right through the audience. But until the last of the 36 singers had left, people just stood there and applauded. Differences between people are bridged through music—barriers just come down."
Aviya Kushner is a poet and journalist whose work has appeared in Harvard Review, Partisan Review and the Jerusalem Post. |
|||||||||
The Talmud forbade Jews from walking under that arch of humiliation. But this summer, the Zamir Chorale of Boston—artists-in-residence at Hebrew College—sang beneath it in a gesture of triumph.
Singing this music "on location" brought some surprises as well. When the choir sang Rossi's "Kaddish" in the small town of Casale Monferrato, in the Piedmont, for example, Jaye could not believe what she saw. All eight of the town's remaining elderly Jews stood up, riveted, as this ancient music rang through the air, just as it had hundreds of years ago.