Why don't we just read the Torah in our synagogues? Why do we chant these ancient words?
The Jews of Hamburg and Berlin who sought to reform their religion in the early 19th century asked that same question. They wanted their worship to resemble as much as possible that of their Lutheran neighbors, so they eliminated the practice of chanting (or "cantillating") the Torah.
In ancient Rome, several prominent orators expressed their distaste for the Jewish practice. Cicero, writing in the first century BCE condemned what he called the "Asiatic" practice of chanting a text. And one hundred years later Quintilian wrote, "The practice of chanting instead of speaking . . . is the worst feature of . . . oratory."
Apparently some Jews at the time were intimidated by these criticisms. By the late 3rd century, Rabbi Yohanan felt the need to remind his co-religionists that it was a requirement to chant the Torah with its appropriate melody. The Talmud (TB Megillah 32a) records, "Rabbi Yohanan said: Anyone who reads [Torah] without a melody . . . , of him the Bible says (Ezekiel 20:25), ‘Do they think I gave them laws that were not good?'"
Why do we chant the Torah? Why did Rabbi Yohanan prohibit the reading of Torah without its proper cantillation? First of all, we do it because music makes the words of the Torah more beautiful. We call that hiddur mitzvah--we adorn our synagogue with physical decorations, and we adorn our words with music.
Music can also help us create a havdallah, a distinction that marks the difference between sacred reading and secular reading. And music can serve as a marker of function, time and place. For example, on Rosh Hashana we use a special melody for reading the Akeda (the story of Abraham's binding of Isaac), but when that same story is read on Shabbat a month later, we use the regular melody. If we just read the texts without melody, we would lose a significant way to mark the holiness of the occasion. On Rosh Hashana we change the synagogue's decorations and vestments to white ones, and we change the melodies, as well.
Anthropologists have found that every society on this planet has developed some form of musical expression. Music is a natural means of dramatizing a text, of intensifying its emotional qualities. Furthermore, many cultures around the globe attribute the origins of music to their deities. Since music is a gift from the gods, naturally we would use music to communicate with the gods and to speak in a divine language.
There are more mundane reasons, as well. Music helps us learn. It's much easier to memorize a song than a poem. Singers can project their voices over long distances more efficiently than those who merely speak. And before the introduction of microphones, those who read Torah in large synagogues were responsible for their own amplification.
But, wait! There's more. Chanting a text can help eliminate ambiguity. Inflection (raising and lowering of pitch), dynamics (variable levels of loudness) and rhythm (lengthening and shortening syllables) can help clarify the meaning of words and phrases. In fact, the Hebrew expression for the system underlying the cantillation of the Bible is ta'amey ha-mikra, the meanings of the reading.
Come to our workshop on March 21 to learn more about how chanting can clarify our understanding of the text, and how and when the cantillation symbols came about.
--Joshua Jacobson
Joshua Jacobson is Acting Dean of the School of Jewish Music, Founding Director of the Zamir Chorale of Boston, Artists-in-Residence at Hebrew College, and Visiting Professor of Jewish Music. He is author of the definitive work, Chanting the Hebrew Bible: The Art of Cantillation (JPS, 2002).
On Sunday, March 21, the School of Jewish Music will present A Jewish Music Medley, including free afternoon workshops with SJM faculty and an evening concert by Hebrew College and community choral groups, at Wellesley College's Houghton Memorial Chapel.