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magid(inspired by an entry of Cellio's, and my comments there)
In most Reform and some Conservative congregations I've been to, there has been both a rabbi and a cantor. The rabbi usually gives a sermon during Shabbat services, while the cantor leads services, in full trained voice. This is what went on in the synagogue of my youth.
However, in almost all Orthodox congregations I've been to, there has been only a rabbi. He (yes, it's still a he, in this instance. That may change in the next decade or two, though...) may give a sermon, but may not, depending on the minyan. The services are led by one of the males of the minyan, hopefully one with a pleasant voice, but definitely one who knows the service. This is what happens in my current minyan, and I much prefer it.
I've never really understood why so many people like cantors so much. I find that, at least with the ones I've heard, the prayers tend to become soaring music that
(a) becomes more of a solo performance than one leading the rest, which
(b) tends to move the focus to the melody and away from the meaning of the words, while
(c) turning the congregation into an audience, rather than a community of people praying together. People become disconnected from the actual praying, watching/listening to the cantor's song.
I used to assume that some of this preference was congregations not having enough knowledgeable congregants, but that seems not to be it (Cellio's congregation, for one).
Her thought was that Americans in general prefer professionals to amateurs, which is probably some of it.
I think some of it is also that it does keep people comfortably spectating, not interacting with the text, active in feeling the words and the emotions, seeing which parts resonate each week. It allows someone to "do the right thing" and go to services, without thinking about what those prayers actually mean. Of course, some of this feeling is because I know just how much of the service I managed to memorize (through junior congregation, etc.), without having to think about the words at all. It's pretty easy to do when the language is not one you tend to think in, even though much of the liturgy is in fairly approachable Hebrew.
Hm. This may be turning into "critique of my religious upbringing," so time to stop.
In most Reform and some Conservative congregations I've been to, there has been both a rabbi and a cantor. The rabbi usually gives a sermon during Shabbat services, while the cantor leads services, in full trained voice. This is what went on in the synagogue of my youth.
However, in almost all Orthodox congregations I've been to, there has been only a rabbi. He (yes, it's still a he, in this instance. That may change in the next decade or two, though...) may give a sermon, but may not, depending on the minyan. The services are led by one of the males of the minyan, hopefully one with a pleasant voice, but definitely one who knows the service. This is what happens in my current minyan, and I much prefer it.
I've never really understood why so many people like cantors so much. I find that, at least with the ones I've heard, the prayers tend to become soaring music that
(a) becomes more of a solo performance than one leading the rest, which
(b) tends to move the focus to the melody and away from the meaning of the words, while
(c) turning the congregation into an audience, rather than a community of people praying together. People become disconnected from the actual praying, watching/listening to the cantor's song.
I used to assume that some of this preference was congregations not having enough knowledgeable congregants, but that seems not to be it (Cellio's congregation, for one).
Her thought was that Americans in general prefer professionals to amateurs, which is probably some of it.
I think some of it is also that it does keep people comfortably spectating, not interacting with the text, active in feeling the words and the emotions, seeing which parts resonate each week. It allows someone to "do the right thing" and go to services, without thinking about what those prayers actually mean. Of course, some of this feeling is because I know just how much of the service I managed to memorize (through junior congregation, etc.), without having to think about the words at all. It's pretty easy to do when the language is not one you tend to think in, even though much of the liturgy is in fairly approachable Hebrew.
Hm. This may be turning into "critique of my religious upbringing," so time to stop.