Why I Love Isaac- A lecture by Elie Wiesel

Return to the Akeda-Why I Love Isaac 

A Lecture by Prof. Elie Wiesel

92^nd St Y  May 16, 2012

Listening to my teacher and mentor, Elie Wiesel is always a privilege, enlightening, uplifting and moving.

Just hearing his voice can put me in a place of learning with an appreciation for his masterful teaching. The words that pour out are soothing and healing. I always feel moved and humbled when I have the opportunity to learn from him.

These are some of the teachings I came away with at his most recent lecture, Return to the Akeda- Why I Love Isaac.

Life is not made of years but moments. Isaac lived a unique moment in history, a solitary moment. There has been much written about Abraham, but not enough about Isaac. Although it’s called, Akeidat Yitzchak, it’s centered on Abraham.  Midrash helps us in our quest for learning, our quest for study. Midrash, from the word, Lid’rosh, to study and extract hidden meanings- it can take centuries to search out these hidden meanings. Learning carries it’s own rewards.

Isaac- what do we know about him? He was almost sacrificed, he almost died and was saved by the voice of an angel. We read about Abraham but not his son’s unspeakable suffering.

Elie Wiesel loves Isaac- he suffered so much, he was used by the Almighty… why did his son have to experience fear and trembling? Can a being be used as a means? Why was the son’s fate also tested? Who is the central figure, Abraham or Isaac? It seems unjust to Elie Wiesel if Abraham and G-d had a problem, why should Isaac pay the price of proving loyalty?

Is Isaac the first survivor? Abraham returned from Mount Moriah alone- he left Isaac there? Imagine his loneliness! The relationship is not recorded of Isaac and Abraham as they got older. Isaac was 37 at the Akeidah- he must have been spoiled by his mother, his father traveled a lot. Finally he had a special moment with his father, they walked together, yachdav- to bring a sacrifice together. Isaac was promised an adventure with his father, walking 3 days and 3 nights in silence. Isaac’s curiosity turned into anguish. They were walking to Mount Moriah to bring an offering to G-d- does Isaac know the tragic truth?  They both build an alter, Isaac carries the wood, but where is the sacrificial lamb?

“ G-d will show it to us”. An angel puts his hand on Abraham, “ Al tishlach yad’cha -do not lay a hand on the lad “

Why has Elie Wiesel chosen to return to the Akeidah 4-5 times in lectures?

The mystery of the Akeidah still resonates.

The story of Abraham has faith and drama. G-d calls out to Abraham and he answers, “ hineni  here I am”.

What is Isaac’s hope? Born on Pesach at noon to two old parents. Laughter is his name- the midrash says all were laughing when Isaac was born, mother, father and G-d.

Until the age of 37 Isaac lived in Bersheeva. After the Akeidah there is no mention of them speaking to each other, father and son. When Abraham eulogized Sarah, he must have seen Isaac- it was never mentioned if they spoke.

At the Akeidah, Isaac said, “ father”

Abraham answered, “ hineni b’ni” here I am , my son

Isaac- “ where is the lamb?”

Abraham says, “ G-d will show it to us”

The knife is absent in his question. At 37 could he not comprehend the situation? He was called, “ hana’ar” the young.. what was he? Did he become young, weak and fragile? Did he age backwards?

In Elie Wiesel’s life he once met a Jewish  journalist from London. In the early 1940’s he had to write an  article  that included reports of the death camps in Poland. He spent hours trying to find the words to describe it- he was only allowed 300 words for his article. He looked in the mirror and did not recognize himself- his black hair had turned white.

The Akeidah fascinates Elie Wiesel even more than Mt. Sinai. It haunts his entire existence. The relationship between father and son as they walk towards the pivotal moment in their relationship, and in Jewish history. Elie Wiesel feels closer to Isaac- it’s possible Jewish history is a series of sequels of the Mt. Moriah experience. Every generation has it’s own Abraham- Why doesn’t the text evoke Isaac’s feelings?

The Talmudic universe tries to show all possibilities. Why  did G-d wait so long for Abraham to be tested ?

Isaac is a victim- at 37 he could have fought back- he respected his father, perhaps the son felt he shouldn’t stop his father. Is this the first act of martyrdom?

We who believe in His Torah choose life, not death-

Uvacharta bachayim- we must choose the living.

Isaac’s life was a near tragedy. How did Isaac react?

What could have been the happiest moment in is life turned dark and cruel. Did Isaac plead?

Avi, Avi, the text says. In Amsterdam there is a Rembrandt painting of Abraham looking angry- at G-d?

Was his love of G-d in conflict with his love of his son?

What was he thinking? Isaac must have felt alone and abandoned by his father and by G-d.

Is Abraham also testing G-d? daring him?

What does Isaac think or feel?

He had such love for his father until the last moment-

Did father and son ever speak again?

“ Now I know you are a G-d fearing man” , G-d says. G-d knows now? The questions still burns like an open wound.

Maybe it was a test and G-d didn’t want him to kill Isaac, to see if he loved him enough.

Isaac waited three years before going to meet and marry Rebecca. The text says he looked like he was from another universe. He belongs to the past and future of our people, his faith was tested. During the darkest of dark periods in our history father and son walked together in death and were separated. As the first survivor of burnt offerings of our people consumed in fire, we remember Isaac as one who has seen the fire.

We love Isaac for what he did with his memories. He got married, he had children, and he composed prayers.

In a memoir found in the mountains, a Sondercommando wrote, “ Will I ever be able to laugh again?”

Is it up to us, his heirs and successors to answer?

Cantor Deborah Katchko-Gray

Dreams Can Come True

http://blogs.rj.org/blog/2012/05/18/dreams-can-come-true/

Tomorrow's Synagogue Today- Let's Learn More!

At a recent day of learning for members of the Cantors Assembly, Rabbi Hayim Herring shared his thoughts on “ Tomorrow’s Synagogue Today”.  It is also the title of his book, focusing on “creating vibrant centers of Jewish life”.  I found it fascinating as I have grown up in synagogues as the daughter of a cantor and organist, and professionally have lived and breathed as a cantor in synagogues all my adult life.  Just as the world is rapidly changing, so the spiritual lives and needs are changing. It seems crucial to try to understand what these changes are and what opportunities for growth lay ahead.

Franz Rosenzweig, the great Jewish philosopher said we should, “ live Judaism- live it deeply every day, not just a few moments” We now have answers to questions our ancestors did not ask.  Torah today has to address us in our changed situations. In order for that to happen, we have to try to live and teach Torah for the lives we are living now and in the future.

Rabbi Herring states that synagogues have the challenge of making the shift from closed, hierarchical organizations to multi-channel platforms. In the former model, congregations direct people how to be Jewish- in the latter model congregations create space for individuals to self direct Jewish choices and explorations within the congregational mission.

The world is rapidly changing-that is clear to all of us! In the last ten years the changes have been breathtaking- online, digital, web, twitter, blogs, face book, iphones, clearly are affecting our lives. How can synagogues best reach and support, change and comfort, heal and uplift?

I would urge you to read his book, “ Tomorrow’s Synagogue Today” as I am, and

invite you to join me in a spirited discussion in a few weeks!

Shalom,

Cantor Debbie Katchko-Gray

Temple Shearith Israel

Ridgefield,CT

www.cantordebbie.com

30 Years of the Women Cantors' Network

Founding the Women Cantors’ Network

by Deborah Katchko Gray

Having grown up in a cantorial family, I was used to hearing the sounds and issues surrounding the cantorate. My father, son of the legendary Adolph Katchko (1886-1958), was a wonderful part-time cantor in his own right, with a full-time liquor store — he used to say he dealt in spirits. Fortunately, he sang and never drank. Unfortunately, his store was never successful because he had no passion for what was in it. His passion was for the bimah where he chanted his father’s magnificent music, especially for Hashkiveinu when he would be transformed in my eyes into a musical prophet.

My mother was his accompanist for many years, and then helped run the store so he could go off to his Friday evening pulpit. I would go along with my father most Friday nights, the two of us often singing together all the way to his synagogue — and these are among my fondest memories. My mother, who later became my accompanist, had always been both soul mate and best friend. Now, as a mother myself, I realize that the musical experiences that both of my parents had shared with me were unusual and precious.

* * * * * *

As a young college student I sang in pulpits every weekend, and led the Boston University Hillel’s Conservative High Holy Day services for over 2,000 people. I knew then that this is what I wanted to do. I didn’t think it was possible since I had no female role models. But davening was in my blood, so I decided that hazzanut must have been transmitted to me while growing up, without my being aware of it.

The following Spring my father took me to a Cantors Assembly convention. He had attended the School of Sacred Music in its early days but did not graduate. There was too much pressure on him just because he was Katchko’s son. He loved to sing but didn’t enjoy synagogue politics, nor did he have the ego necessary to survive in such an atmosphere. Now at the convention, my father was proudly introducing me to some of his former classmates.

I will never forget their comments when he told a few of his colleagues that I was singing as a cantor in the Boston area.

“Oh, what will come next — topless on the bimah?”

“What else will they think of to fill the pews!”

I was embarrassed and shocked, and held my father’s hand tighter. It would take twenty-five years before I became a full member of the Cantors Assembly.

The insecurity and resentment I experienced at that convention with my father led me to feel alienated from the professional cantorate during my college years. I loved singing in Conservative pulpits, and didn’t want to be part of the Reform movement. As an undergraduate I had visited the Hebrew Union College in New York, thinking about its cantorial school. But I was turned off by what I perceived as a certain elitistism and high-clergy coldness that was alien to my hazzanic roots. (Had Jackie Mendelson been teaching there at the time I would have felt differently!)

My studies with Professor Elie Wiesel in college had left a lasting impression on me. He taught that being Jewish was a miracle — a heritage that has become ever more precious because we are entrusted with it after a Holocaust that wiped out a third of all the world’s Jews. If each of us were to take on the soul of one of the six million who were martyred and thereby live a doubly Jewish life, our lives would take on more meaning. We would be lighting Shabbat candles not just for ourselves, but for a soul who was prevented from doing so. I have taken that suggestion to heart ever since. I will always be grateful to Professor Wiesel for this insight and his passion for all things Jewish. It has given a purpose and drive to my Jewish existence.

* * * * * *

In 1980 after hearing that a position was open in Norwalk, Connecticut, I asked the congregation’s rabbi, Jonas Goldberg, if he would audition a woman cantor. He said, “We’ve listened to eighteen men; at this point we would audition a monkey!” After my previous humiliation at the Cantors Assembly convention I was delighted to be chosen by the Norwalk committee over all the other candidates. Of course, it was not so much the Cantors Assembly, as insensitive remarks from a few insecure male cantors — but it had stung none the less.

The taunts continued even after my position in Norwalk was secured — from a different quarter. The one Reform rabbi in town asked my rabbi, “What’s next? Getting rid of the talleisim?” I looked around the area and realized there were no colleagues to work with or to ask a question. The following May (1981) I went again to a Cantors Assembly convention — this time alone — and sat with a whole table of women! One of them, Elaine Shapiro, was already functioning as the first full-time Conservative woman cantor, in West Palm Beach, Florida — without official investiture. We agreed to get together during that convention with other women in the same situation and see if we could organize ourselves into a support group. A dozen of us met the next day, some studying hazzanut privately — since the Jewish Theological Seminary was not granting a cantorial degree to women who had rcompleted the full course of study at its College of Jewish Music — the same curriculum that was earning religious accreditation for its male cantorial graduates.

I invited everyone to my temple for a gathering. I put ads in Moment, The Jewish Week and other publications. In May of 1982 twelve women from all over came to Norwalk for our first meeting. We decided to call ourselves the Women Cantors’ Network. I am enormously proud that our organization has grown to over 250 members. Still, I feel that even though the status of women has changed in the

Reform and Conservative cantorate, there will always be a need for the WCN. We offer something very nurturing and caring that is not out there. We don’t discriminate based on education, job experience, pulpit size, salary, ordination, certification or degrees. Because women were left out for so long in so many ways, we do not even discriminate based on gender! Being nurturing, caring, musical, spiritual and loving is not a female virtue alone.

It is therefore my prayer that our conferences keep on attracting cantors and hopeful cantors, writers, musicians, choir directors and rabbis — men as well as women — whose spirit is moved by our people’s sacred music. Each one who attends brings a sense of beauty and kindness, an open heart and soul to share, and sometimes even a shoulder to cry on. I sincerely hope that the Women Cantors’ Network can continue to be a beacon of light and hope, song and story, love and laughter for all of us.

Deborah Katchko Gray serves as hazzan at Reform Temple Shearith Israel of Ridgefield, Connecticut, and prides herself on working with a rabbi who “appreciates, enhances and elevates worship and constantly tells the congregation how lucky they are to receive beautiful and moving Jewish music on a weekly basis.”

Reprinted with permission- Journal of Synagogue Music Vol. 34 2007

Dreams can come true- a note

While 30 years has passed since the beginnings of the WCN, there are constants

in our comraderie, dedication to mentchlichkeit, high spirits and love of sharing and supporting one another. I believe we have created a safe space for musical hearts and minds to gather, share experiences and sing together as a holy community.

Some of the changes and dreams I proposed 30 years ago are now common- opportunities to study with mentors leading to certification( CICA program in the CA), an alternative school ( AJR) that trains adult students who may not be able to go to Israel for a year, places for women to have leadership roles in the cantorial organizations ( CA and ACC), music geared for women cantors. My dream of publishing a songbook and sourcebook of my grandfather’s music with guitar chords and female friendly keys has also come true thanks to my husband’s generosity and the support of many cantors who are using it.

In my wildest dreams I could not have imagined that a postcard from the WCN would be only inches away from Bella Abzug’s hat in a permanent display case in the National Museum of American Jewish History. We are in the Jewish Feminism case, as I donated the archives of our organization as well as my own, and those of my grandfather’s to the museum in 2010.

In l982 I could not have imagined such a large membership, but I knew from the very beginnings we were a unique and loving community. That has not changed, and I look forward to the next 30!

Cantor Deborah Katchko-Gray  May 2012

www.cantordebbie.com