Cantor Notes

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Notes From the Cantor

A Tfile

Most Tuesdays, I go to my lesson in voice and humility with Hazzan Rabbi Dr. David Kane, the emeritus everything at another Beth Sholom, this one in Long Beach. Besides getting my workout and a chance to work on chazzanut and cantorial classics, I have the privilege of doing musical odd jobs. These include transcription, the occasional computer task, and coaching and accompanying David as he prepares a CD with his talented granddaughter, Alisa.

One recent visit, David’s wife, Yetta, interrupted our session with a phone call from the Midwest. She explained that it was his brother (older, I think), who lives in an assisted facility. David put everything aside to take the call, and wanted to sing to him. There is a certain connection between cantors. I knew at once what to start to play: A Tfile, with words by N. Yanitch and music by Sidor Belarsky, which we had practiced regularly for some months. Here is the Yiddish transliteration from the sheet music, and my attempt to translate the lyric into English:

Groyser Got, farnem mayn tfile

Un basher mir bloyz eyn zach.

Ikh banugn zikh mit veynik

Un ikh bet bay dir keyn sakh.

Ker mir um tsurik mayn gloybn

Un mayn tsutroy tsu di mentshn;

Heyl di biterkeyt fun mayn hartsn

Kh’zol nit sheltn mer, nor bentshn.

Vayl farsamt iz mayn neshome

Fun dem miesn arum,

Un tsu ale sheyne verter

Blaybt mayn harts itst kalt un shtum.

Shver tsu lebn ven di oygn

Zenen dir in gantsn ofn,

Host nit mer in vos tsu gloybn,

Host nit mer oyf vos tsu hofn.

Bet ikh dikh, O Got du liber,

Her mayn tfile, mayn bager,

Gib mir bloyz tsurik mayn gloybn

Un ikh darf keyn zakh nit mer.

Great God, accept my prayer

And just grant me this one thing.

I get along with very little

And have never asked for anything before.

Give me back my belief

And let me trust in men again;

Lift the bitterness from my heart.

I ought never pray again

For my soul is beaten down

By all the ugliness in the world,

And my heart remains cold and dumb

To all the pretty words.

If your eyes are wide open to the world,

It’s hard to go on.

I have nothing more to believe in,

Nothing more to hope for.

I beseech you, dearest God,

Hear my prayer, my sole request,

Just give me back my belief in You

And I’ll never ask You for another thing.

It seems like a sad song to sing to an invalid shut-in, but the deeper meaning is more optimistic. As I read it, the singer is giving God an easy task. Just as we pray on Friday evening to God who creates both light and darkness, so might we understand God to have created both beauty and ugliness, both happiness and sadness. In each case, we better appreciate the former in contrast to the latter. The singer’s eyes should be wide open, the better to recognize all the miracles in the world for which we ought to be grateful – with life at the top of the list.

God does not grant us a right to be bitter. Every time a Biblical character expresses bitterness, life only gets worse. Cain is bitter at his projected punishment for murder, but his ultimate sentence is not much better. Isaac and Rebecca are bitter over Esau’s choice of brides; one might argue that they cost him his birthright (beyond the transaction over the bowl of soup). Jacob feuds with his father-in-law, Laban, and stews over his poor treatment at Laban’s hands; his wives (Laban’s daughters) encourage him to break away. They assure him that they recognize how poorly their husband has been treated. And Korach! Well, perhaps the less said about how bitter he was over his cousin Moses’s success, the better.

No, the overriding lesson of A Tfile is gratitude, even though it is not mentioned directly in the song. If you can get past the ugliness to enjoy the beauty of the world, surrender to God while partnering with God at the same time, and be granted the faith that God knows what to do, the bitterness will dissipate. Don’t get caught up with “shoulda,” “coulda,” or “woulda.” Use everything God has given you and you’ll never have to ask God for another thing.

—-Cantor Jay Harwitt

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