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
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