Some of my fondest memories are singing Christian music: cantatas, oratorios and requiems in high school and college, “Ave Maria” and Christmas carols on Christmas Eve. I sang because the melodies were beautiful and because everyone else was singing. I paid little attention to the words; God and I knew I was Jewish, and I didn’t believe that Jesus was my savior.

I never sang the “Hallelujah Chorus” in high school or college, so I had no emotional attachment to it, only enjoying it in concerts and on the radio. I stood during performances, even though I felt uncomfortable because even then I thought it was a triumphal anthem to Jesus’ birth, the same reason that I was disturbed that my children’s high school “holiday” concerts always ended with a quasi-mandatory audience-participation performance. When I read that the librettist for Handel’s “Messiah” had approached Handel with texts that claimed Christianity’s triumph over Judaism, I felt vindicated, yet neutral. And since I had already decided to avoid singing Christian or other religious music in public when I became a cantor, the issue became an intellectual exercise for me.

Music is powerful. It can divide or unite communities. Quality music causes me to weep; it physically and emotionally overwhelms me. Yes, some music has been co-opted by evil people, and yes, some of it has words that are hateful. But classical or contemporary, good music is sheer genius, a gift to the world that everyone, Jews included, can enjoy.  Worship music is equally potent; it can cause congregational battles. Some of the most inspiring music the world has known has been set to texts that are problematic for many people, and yet we listen and enjoy it because of its brilliance.

The crux of the “Messiah dilemma” may be that we Jews don’t know—or care—that there’s an impressive amount of brilliant Jewish music out there, so we don’t demand it on the airwaves, the concert halls, or sometimes, even in our own synagogues. We turn to the “Messiah” because it’s so great and because we don’t know—or care—that we have something equally great to turn to.

I’ll be honest: I once didn’t know Jewish music existed beyond Yiddish music or early Israeli folk songs. Long before I was a cantor, I started listening: Salomone Rossi, Louis Lewandowski, Heinrich Schalit, Ernest Bloch, Leonard Bernstein, Kurt Weill, Miriam Gideon, Shalom Secunda, to name just a few Jewish classical composers writing powerful Jewish music that rivals all other masterpieces. Ben Steinberg, Benjie-Ellen Schiller, Steve Kingsley, Bonia Shur, Lazar Weiner, Max Helfman, Max Janowski, etc.—are all Jewish synagogue composers. Prayer music, hip-hop, folk, rock, pop, R&B, musical theater—all feature contemporary Jewish music from the United States, Israel and throughout the world. The shame is that most of the Jewish community, and certainly most of the world, doesn’t know it exists, so almost none of it is heard on popular or classical radio stations, even during Jewish holidays. Most public radio stations air Yiddish musical “chestnuts” because that’s what radio programmers equate with Jewish music. It’s no wonder that our great Jewish music can’t get air time!

A few years ago www.jvibe.com, an online Jewish teen magazine, led a petition urging the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences to create one Jewish Grammy award category among the 107 different categories, at least six of which are for Christian music. Of course, many Jews have won Grammy Awards, but not necessarily for Jewish music. Needless to say, the petition failed, so jvibe created the “Jammy’s,” the Jewish Grammy’s. But wouldn’t it be wonderful for the world to recognize Jewish music in its own category?

If the discussion about the Messiah libretto results in anything concrete, perhaps it can be the beginning of a Jewish and worldwide exploration and awareness of the vast repertoire of extraordinary Jewish music. For every performance of the Messiah, perhaps there can be an equally vibrant performance of the Bloch Sacred Service. There’s so much more out there than the Dreidel song, and I think it’s time we insisted on hearing it.

Most of the transcendent musical experiences I have had involved a composition with a Christian text—the “Gloria” of Francis Poulenc, the “Requiem in D Minor” of Luigi Cherubini and an aria from a Bach cantata sung by a sweet baritone voice accompanied by cello and harpsichord. I remember these moments and I remember feeling transported to another realm of existence, a realm where all was beautiful, calm and holy. I attribute my current career to moments like these, because I learned early on how to access my spiritual life through exquisite sound. I was blessed to have parents who encouraged a cultural life, and I was privileged to attend schools that acknowledged the arts and celebrated them. 

But my parents were staunch Jews and never let me forget it, and I was enrolled in Jewish studies programs at age eleven. My Jewishness is also part of the tapestry of my life, just as potent a force in my life as my love of music. So being exposed to music of other cultures cannot cancel out or threaten my faith—in fact, it can enhance it.

If Handel wrote the “Messiah” with an agenda, it is not apparent in the score itself.  While it may be difficult to listen to sections of Bach’s “St. Matthew’s Passion” due to the accusatory texts of the Gospel, it is still a worthy piece and should be appreciated for Bach’s mastery.

For me, however, the more compelling issue as a cantor is how to bring quality music to the synagogue and have it appreciated. On the whole, our children are not receiving the same cultural education that we did. They are not being exposed to great musical works that will inform their spiritual lives in years to come.  They are learning the “quick fix” through computers, text messaging, iPod shuffling, etc., and they soon will be unable to slow down at all. 

Our liturgical music these days often goes no farther than the first five words of a prayer to make it palatable and easy for all, and we cut out prayers to save time. We employ ditties instead of well-composed melodies that revere the texts, and we sing them too quickly. One of our prayers asks God to accept our prayers, and I am tempted to add the Christian “and forgive us our trespasses” from the Lord’s Prayer. But I maintain hope that in the world-to-come, we will all educate ourselves and our children to gain inspiration from great music, great art and service to God and the world in which we live.