Armin Wilkowitch about Shabbes Shekolim in his youth in Russia

by Gabriel Wasserman and Phillip Minden

Shabbes Shekolim (Shabbat Sheqalim) is the first of the four special Sabbaths in or near the month of Adar, when special passages are read from the Torah. In addition to the special readings from the Torah, Ashkenazic Jewry has distinguished these four Sabbaths with the inclusion of special piyyutim in the Sabbath service; these piyyutim – most, and perhaps all – are by Eleazar b. Qallir (or Qillir) of sixth- to seventh-century Eretz Yisrael, and they have been part of the liturgy of Ashkenazic Jewry ever since there has been such a thing as Ashkenazic Jewry, since before the year 1000 CE. Although many Ashkenazic communities today omit the piyyutim for Shekolim, happily there are still many Ashkenazic communities that maintain them through today, unlike many piyyutim for other occasions in the year, which have suffered almost complete extinction in living usage.

(As an aside: In the middle ages, many non-Ashkenazic communities, as well, recited piyyutim, different from the Ashkenazic ones, on the four special Sabbaths of Adar. These have fallen into complete disuse today, other than the piyyut “Mi Khamokha” by R. Judah Hallevi for Shabbat Zakhor. These piyyutim will not be the subject of this post.)

In the past, Shabbes Shekolim and the recitation, or singing, of these piyyutim had an aura of great emotional significance for many Ashkenazic communities. As an example of this, the Seforim Blog will present here a piece by Cantor Armin Wilkowitsch, originally published in the Österreichisch-Ungarische Cantoren-Zeitung (supplement to Die Wahrheit), vol. 24 no. 10 (4 March 1904), p. 10. Wilkowitsch writes here about the composition of a setting for the piyyut “Eshkol Ivvuy” (אשכל אווי), the opening of the piyyutim for Musaf of this Sabbath. Wasserman’s research, in a project to collect musical settings for all Ashkenazic piyyutim for special Sabbaths, has uncovered thirty different musical settings for “Eshkol Ivvuy,” and further research may discover far more; this piyyut was clearly very important to cantors, and communities, in generations preceding ours.

According to the biography on Geni.com, Cantor Wilkowitsch, was born in Kalvarija, in the Russian Empire (see map here), today in Lithuania. He lived most of his adult life in the Austro-Hungarian empire, and served as chief cantor of a community in Eger (Erlau, Cheb), in Hungary, for 32 years. In 1939, under Nazi occupation, Wilkowitsch got a visa to escape to America, to join his wife and children who were already there. He boarded the ship, but, in light of the terrible events going on in Europe at the time, he lost the will to live and committed suicide by jumping off the ship. Very sad, and creepy.

In his youth, Wilkowitsch was a meshorer in his native Russia. Meshorerim were a standard phenomenon in pre-modern Ashkenazic synagogues: a group of men and small boys who would accompany the cantor as a kind of choir, though without the Western rules of four-part counterpoint that define modern choirs.

Perhaps the most picturesque line in the story is: “the Special Sabbaths are coming, which are soon bound to chase the polar bear out of the land” (es kommen die ausgezechneten Sabbathe, die den Eisbären bald aus dem Land verjagen).

Wilkowitsch refers to a species of fish, eaten at shalleshuddes, by the Yiddish word shtinkes. This word may be familiar to some readers of this blog from halakhic literature (see, e.g., the commentary of Rashash on Sukka 18a, and here).

The text of Wilkowitch’s piece will be presented here, first in the original German (the educated language throughout the Austro-Hungarian Empire) and then in English translation. Hopefully it will give the readers a sense of what Shabbes Shekolim was like in those bygone days – as Wilkowitsch writes, in the Italian expression that concludes his story, tempi passati.

Jugenderinnerungen.
Von Kantor Armin Wilkowitsch.

Jüngst suchte ich unter meinen alten, längst ad acta gelegten Notenblättern herum. Wie pochte da plötzlich mein Herz, und als begegnete ich meinen besten Jugendfreunden, die mir Grüße von meiner Heimat brachte und längst vergangene und verschollene Geschichtchen auffrischten, so sprachen mich diese vergilbten, nach Moder riechenden Notenblätter an. Es waren hunderte von ein- und mehrstimmigen Kompositionen, die ich mir von verschiedenen Chasanim auf meinen Meschorer-Wanderungen mit vieler Mühe erworben hatte. Darunter auch russische und jüdisch-deutsche Liedlein, selbst Sabbathsemiroth, wie Zur mischelo ochalnu, oder Joh, ribbon olam, die ich in meinem Elternhause, im Vereine mit meinen Geschwistern, allsabbathlich sang. Später, als ich Einblick in die Harmonielehre gewann, gab ich den Semiroth regelrechte Rhythmen und bearbeitete sie für zwei Soprane und Klavierbegleitung.

Unter diesen losen Blättern fand ich u. a. für Sabbath-Schekolim einen Eschkol, welcher als Introduktion eine längere, polonaiseartige Melodie vorgespannt hatte und in einer „phrygischen“^* Tonart sich bewegte. Herr Oberkantor Singer-Wien nennt, wenn ich nicht irre, diese Skala  „jüdische Tonleiter.“ Den russischen Chasanim ist aber meines Wissens keine jüdische Tonleiter bekannt und, wie gerne ich auch uns Juden eine Eigenart in der Musik einräumen möchte, muß ich trotzdem gestehen, daß ich dieser Skala schon bei mehreren kleinrussischen Volksliedern begegnete; auch das rumänische Volkslied dürfte wohl diese Tonart sich zu eigen gemacht haben.^** Daß Anton Rubinstein die Melodie für die Worte:  „und der Sklave sprach“, in seinem  „Asra“ einem jüdischen Chasan abgelauscht hat, möchte ich stark bezweifeln. Das eine ist jedoch gewiß, daß den Deutschen diese Intervalle fremd sind, aber deswegen sind sie noch nicht speziell „jüdisch“.

Bei diesem Eschkol verweilte ich lange, lange…. Habe ich doch denselben  „mitkomponieren“ geholfen.

Der Kantor in Rußland betet nicht jeden Sabbath vor, höchstens, daß er am Sabbath-meworachim Jehi rozôn und Jechadschehu absingt, das weitere betet ein Balbos oder der Schammes, und hat der Chasan Chanukalichtlein mit den Meschorerim und Klesmorim entzündet, dann hält er seinen Winterschlaf, bis Sabbath-Schekolim, der erste von den ausgezeichneten Sabbathen, ins Land zieht.

Hui, wie tobt draußen der Sturm! Neue Schneeflocken häufen sich auf die längst zu Eis erstarrten und der grausame Winter herrscht noch mit unbeschränkter Macht. Was gilt ihm die Armut? Was die Not? Despot ist Despot! — Aber im Herzen regt sich die Hoffnung: es kommen die ausgezeichneten Sabbathe, die den Eisbären bald aus dem Lande verjagen, und ein Frühlingsahnen überkommt die geplagte Menschheit.

Es war Sabbath vor Schekolim. Wir, Meschorerim, saßen beim Chasan und halfen ihm zum Scholasch-sudos die länglichen, schmalen Stinkes (Fischlein) vertilgen. Da sprach Schimschon, der Tenor:  „Nu, Chasanleben, was wird sein mit eppes a neuen Eschkol? Wieder und aber die alten Trallalaikes?!“ Der Chasan ließ sich Majim-acharonim zum  „Benschen“ geben und machte dann eine Handbewegung, die soviel heißen sollte, wie:  „Bleibt alle hier!” Nach dem Tischgebet sprach er:  „Paßt auf!“ und fing leise eine Melodie zu singen an. Diese Melodie sangen wir, Soprane, einigemal nach, der Chasan sang indessen mit den Altisten die zweite Stimme, während die Tenöre und Bassisten sich nach eigenem Gutdünken ihre Stimmen bildeten. Und so entstand in zirka einer Stunde ein Eschkol fix und fertig, mit dem wir dann „die Welt eingenommen haben.“ Tempi passati!

Childhood memories

By Cantor Armin Wilkowitsch

Recently, I leafed through my old sheet music I had long filed away. How did my heart suddenly pound, and these yellowed sheets with their fusty odour talked to me as if I were meeting my dearest boyhood friends, who brought greetings from my homeland and revived stories long past and lost. There were hundreds of compositions for one and for several voices, which I had acquired with great effort from several chazzanim during my meshorer wanderings. Among them also Russian and Jewish-German songs, even Sabbath zemiroth such as Tzur mishelo ochalnu or Yoh, ribbon olam, which I used to sing every Sabbath in my parental home together with my siblings. Later, having gained some insight into harmonics, I gave regular rhythms to the zemiroth and arranged them for two sopranos with piano accompaniment.

Among other things, I found an “Eshkol” for Sabbath Shekolim in these unbound leaves, which was preceded by a longer polonaise-like tune as an introduction and moved in a “Phrygian”^* mode. If I am not mistaken, Chief Cantor Singer of Vienna calls this scale “Jewish mode”. As far as I know, though, the Russian chazzanim are not aware of any Jewish modes or keys, and much as I should like to grant an original feature in music to us Jews, I have to concede that I’ve met this scale in several Little Russian [=Ukrainian] folk songs already, and it can be stated that the Roumanian folk song has embraced this mode as well.^** I strongly venture to doubt that Anton Rubinstein overheard a Jewish chazzan and copied the tune for the words “und der Sklave sprach” [“and the slave said”] in his “Der Asra”. These intervals are certainly alien to Germans, but that does not make them specifically “Jewish”.

I dwelled long on this “Eshkol”… After all, I helped compose it.

A cantor in Russia doesn’t lead the prayers every Sabbath; at most he will sing “Yehi rotzon” and “Yechadshehu” on Sabbath Mevorachim, and a balbos or the shammes will lead the other prayers. As soon as the chazzan has kindled the Chanukkah lights with the meshorerim and the klezmorim, he goes into hibernation until Sabbath Shekolim, the first of the Special Sabbaths, comes round.

Oh, how does the storm rage out there! Fresh snowflakes pile onto those long frozen to ice, and grim winter still rules with unlimited power. What does it care about hardship? About affliction? A despot is a despot! But hope is rising in the hearts: the Special Sabbaths are coming, which are soon bound to chase the polar bear out of the land, and a hunch of spring spreads in plagued humankind.

It was the Sabbath before Shekolim. We meshorerim were sitting with the chazzan, helping him to devour the oblong, narrow shtinkes (little fish) during sholash-sudos. Shimshon, the tenor, then said: “So, my dear chazzan, is there maybe going to be a new ‘Eshkol’? Again and again the old trallalaikes?” The chazzan had mayim acharonim given to him for “benshen” and then waved his hand in a sense of “Everybody stay here!” When Grace After Meals was finished, he said “Listen!” and started to sing a tune in a low voice. We, the sopranos, repeated this melody a few times, the chazzan added the second voice with the altos, while the tenors and basses formed their voices as they seemed fit. And so, an “Eshkol” came into being, all done and ready in the course of approximately one hour, with which we then “conquered the world”. Tempi passati!

Three New Books

By Eliezer Brodt

In this post I would like to briefly describe three new works, which are hot off the press. For a short time, copies of these three works can be purchased through me for a special price. Part of the proceeds will be going to support the efforts of the Seforim Blog. Contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com for more information.

The first title is printed by the World Congress of Jewish Studies:

פירוש רש”י לספר משלי, ההדירה והוסיפה מבוא והערות ליסה פרדמן

Lisa Fredman’s, Rashi’s Commentary on the Book of Proverbs is a critical edition of Rashi on Mishlei based on numerous manuscripts. It includes a very extensive introduction and many valuable notes throughout the volume. Critical editions of Rashi are always welcome and very important, sadly not enough of them exist. One section in the introduction which I found interesting relates to Rashi and his responding to Christians and Christianity specifically in his work on Mishlei.

Here is the table of contents for this work:

מגנזי אירופה כרך שני  ההדיר והוסיף מבואות, שמחה עמנואל, 408 עמודים

The Second volume which I am very happy to announce is the publication of an important work which I have been eagerly waiting for, Professor Simcha Emanuel of the Hebrew University’s Talmud department’s volume of texts from the “European Genizah”, volume two. This volume was just printed by Mekitzei Nirdamim and is being sold by Magnes Press. [Volume one was mentioned earlier on the blog here]. For a sample chapter e mail me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com.

Professor Emanuel is considered one of the today’s greatest experts in Rishonic literature. He has produced numerous special works [such as this recent work, this, this and my favorite] and articles of both texts and material about them for quite some time. [Many of which are available here] All of which are of very high quality, showing an incredible breadth and depth in the material at hand. One area of specialty of his is finding long-lost works; this new volume continues this trend. It includes numerous newly discovered texts of Rishonim, with introductions and background of their importance and proof of identification. Some of the discoveries are simply put remarkable detective work, how he pieces together the various pieces of the puzzle.

The author writes in the abstract of the book as follows:

            The purpose of this volume, like its predecessor, is to uncover fragments of important Hebrew works hidden in the “European Genizah”. Thousands of pages of Hebrew manuscripts have been discovered in this “Genizah”, which is scattered in hundreds of libraries and archives throughout Europe and even beyond. In the late medieval and early modern eras, these pages were used to bind books and as folders of archival documents. In the first volume of this series, I published eleven new works from the “European Genizah”, prefacing them with a wide-ranging introduction about the nature of this “Genizah”. Nine additional works are published in the present volume.

            The works published herein are from a variety of genres: Biblical exegesis, Talmud commentary, halakhic literature, and liturgical interpretation. They appear in this volume in chronological order, from earliest to latest. The most significant of the works is also the work whose discovery required more effort than all of the others; it appears in the first chapter of the book. This work was written — I wish to argue — in ninth or tenth-century Palestine. It reveals valuable information on the history of halakhah in Palestine of that era, and also teaches a great deal about how Palestinian Traditions made their way to the European continent. This work still requires a great deal of study, and I hope that others come along to add to my words.   The fragments published here were identified in the collections of fourteen archives and libraries. These institutions, located throughout Europe, aptly reflect the dispersal of the European Geniza.

Here are the Table of Contents of this special work:

The third work is also printed by the World Congress of Jewish Studies.

שולמית אליצור, סוד משלשי קודש: הקדושתא מראשיתה ועד ימי רבי אלעזר בירבי קליר

This work Sod Meshalleshei Qodesh is written by Professor Shulamit Elizur (see here), one of the worlds leading experts on piyut. Some have claimed this work will change the study of piyut completely. In an interview published in Ami Magazine and reprinted with updates on the Seforim Blog (here) Elizur was asked:

Which sefer do you consider your biggest accomplishment— your magnum opus?”

She replied:

“The one I’m in the middle of writing right now. It’s a sefer on the history of the kedushta, which are the piyutim composed to be recited right before Kedushah. There are many chiddushim in that sefer and also things about Rabbi Elazar Hakalir that I discovered.”

This book is now out and is over one thousand pages!.

The following is the abstract of the book translated into English for the readers of the Seforim Blog by Dr. Gabriel Wasserman (and is not found in the actual book). This will give one a good idea of what the purpose of this work is:

Sod Meshalleshei Qodesh: The Qedushta From its Origins until the Time of Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir

 A qedushta is a series of piyyutim for the ‘Amida prayer, which is expanded in honor of the recitation of the Qedusha, and includes many complex components. Its origins are in the Land of Israel, in the fourth or fifth century. We first see it as a constructed composition with set, complex, rules in the work of the poet Yannai, who lived in the mid-sixth century, the teacher of Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir (who is known popularly as “the Qallir”). The qedushta, as it appears in the hundreds of compositions by Yannai and his followers, conceals many secrets: mysterious strings of biblical verses accompany its first components; a fixed biblical verse concludes the third component, followed by the strange words “El Na”; then comes a fourth component, whose structure is free, and always concludes, for some reason, with the word “Qadosh”; the fifth component in Yannai’s compositions is the ‘asiriya, a poem constructed of a truncated alphabetical acrostic from only aleph to yud, followed by a prayer beginning “El Na Le‘olam Tu‘aratz” – and it is unclear why this prayer appears here; then there is a group of poems called rahitim, which are written, for some reason, in unique, stereotypical structures. These are only a fraction of the various strange features of the qedushta’ot of Yannai and the other poets. The discussions in the book are dedicated to suggesting solutions to all these questions, and to others, and involve uncovering fragments of qedushta’ot that preceded Yannai; by examining these texts, they excavate the literary remains to construct a model of the gradual development of the qedushta over time, from its origins until it reached its complex structure in the days of Yannai and Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir.

The first section of the book, which is the largest, is devoted to this development of the qedushta, in all its elements, including those that follow the recitation of Qedusha. Naturally, this section deals with the piyyutim mostly from a structural point of view, for only such an analysis can enable a comprehensive look at the development of the genre. However, as a base for these structural analyses, this section contains the texts of many piyyutim, mostly pre-classical (from the period before Yannai, when the poets did not yet use rhyme). Alongside them are printed classical rhyming piyyutim, too, from the period of Yannai and his colleagues, and, in a few instances, even piyyutim from later periods.

The second section of the book focuses on one single poet: Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir, the most prolific of the classical poets in the Land of Israel, whose poems reached Europe, and some of them are recited in Ashkenazic and Italian synagogues through today. The qedushta’ot of Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir are varied in both their structures and their styles, much more than those of Yannai; this section is devoted to an analysis of these compositions, and an attempt to map out which ones are earlier and which later. On the basis of precise structural analysis, the section builds a higher level of analysis – stylistic; and thus we see the picture of the great poet’s literary journey. It becomes clear that when he was started out, he was heavily influenced by the work of Yannai, and slowly he created new ways for himself: at first he went in the direction of obscurity and difficulty, which he gradually made more and more obscure; but then, in a later, more mature phase, he turned to pure lyrical song, which today’s reader, too, will find sweet.

The third section leaves aside the structural analyses, and suggests directions for further research. This section is short, and contains only first steps towards new directions in piyyut analysis. It focuses primarily on content, and ways that the qedushta’ot are organized, but it moves on to questions of how the qedushta is constructed as a complete composition, and points out various difficulties that the poets needed to overcome, and analyzes at length their literary solutions to these problems. Yannai stands at the center of the discussion in this section, but there are also notes about other poets. Most of the suggested directions for further research are new, and we hope that they will lead to further productive scholarship, and make it possible to study the piyyutim from angles that have hitherto been less examined.

Throughout the book, phenomena are demonstrated by means of the texts of piyyutim. More than 250 piyyutim are printed in the book, of which about 130 are being printed for the first time. Most of these piyyutim are from the earlier periods of piyyut, and their publication in this volume reveals the full contribution of these layers of the genre to our understanding of the history of the qedushta. Even the piyyutim that have already been printed elsewhere often were published in out-of-the-way publications, some of them with no vowels or commentary. It goes without saying that for this volume, these texts were all printed anew straight from the manuscripts. When pieces from Yannai’s work are cited to exemplify some point, an attempt has been made, inasmuch as possible, to use pieces that have not been included in the existing publications of his work, and thus the volume contributes a great amount of new material to the corpus of Yannai’s piyyutim. The volume as a whole is based on examination of hundreds of manuscripts, mostly from the Cairo Geniza, and these provide a wide, firm textual basis to the analysis.

The book is intended first and foremost for scholars, but it will also enable people interested in piyyut and its history from outside the world of academia to gain exposure to a great corpus of early piyyutim, among which are several stunningly beautiful gems, which are being published here for the first time.

For the Hebrew abstract email me at eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

Here is the table of contents: