The Voice of a Cantor, the Soul of a Jew

Suddenly, what seemed distant and grand as a child becomes accessible and contemporary. What am I talking about? I'm talking about Shmuel Krischer - a veteran cantor-singer. I remember being a little girl, listening to his songs and cantorial pieces. That's how it is when you're the daughter of a cantor with an admired voice, and what your father listens to at home influences you.

However, when I first met him in my life, at the Hidabroot channel, when he came to be a guest on Nir Kapten's show for the High Holidays, I was surprised to see such a young and active person. After all, in my mind, he was already "old" when I was young. So how is he suddenly so young? It turns out that he began his global career at such a young age that it all made perfect sense.

For 30 years, less than my life span, those are the years of Krischer's career, now 48, a resident of the ultra-orthodox city of Elad.

From Classical to Drum Beats

He grew up in an incredibly musical home, with a mother who sang in the Philharmonic. "I grew up on classical, Israeli, and Hasidic music," says Krischer. "I started learning piano at five." After years of piano lessons, one day the young child decided he wanted to learn drums. "It appealed to me," he admits. "I was exposed to rhythm mainly because of Hasidic music, and I wanted it, so my parents allowed me."

"Isn't it too abrupt a transition?"

"It's an abrupt transition, but let's just say that my mom didn't fully gamble, since she claims that as a baby, I played on pots and lids with much more rhythm and obsession than any other baby, so she recognized the talent..." Well, you really can't argue with his mom about musical talent. "I learned for several years, then my teacher fell ill. At the conservatory where I studied, they didn't know what to do with me during the last months of the school year and decided to transfer me to learn clarinet. It wasn't that successful because I didn't have the instrument and didn't particularly connect with it, and it seemed I wouldn't continue with it. But I learned to finish the year." 

The Youngest Cantor at the Academy

Then, without anything seeming to lead up to something so thrilling, the Krischer family went to a hotel with a group of tourists visiting Jerusalem. "I entered the Great Synagogue. When I heard the cantor and choir, I was immediately captivated. It was the first time I was exposed to something like this. I was 16. Around the same time, ads were published in the newspaper that a cantorial school was opening in Tel Aviv. I knew I was going there, and my parents, of course, were with me. I took voice lessons, and the teacher taught me a piece by the renowned cantor Hershman called 'Umipnei Chata'einu'."

"I arrived on exam day, as admission required an audition. I entered the large room where the world-renowned cantor Moshe Stern sat on the piano, Raymond Goldstein, and the school founder, the famous cantor Eli Yaffe. I handed a sheet of music of the piece I wanted to perform to the pianist. It was clear to me that to succeed, I needed to be synchronized with the pianist. A week later, I received a notice that I was accepted into the school. Later, I learned I was the only one among all the candidates who brought sheet music, which impressed the examiners."

Krischer was the youngest student there. When he finished his second year, he was chosen as one of six cantors to travel to Romania as a cantor for the High Holidays. This was essentially the start of his career as a cantor. His singing abilities spread and he was invited to sing at weddings and cantorial events. Returning from Romania, he won a scholarship for another year at the academy.

Singing is nice, but is there an added value as a cantor for the High Holidays?

Any singing done *l'shem shamayim* has a connection to holiness, which is remarkable and influential, broadening hearts, and undoubtedly it can elevate to great heights. But cantorial singing is a different kind of devotion to holiness, with more responsibility, especially when talking about the High Holidays. The cantor has the personal and moral duty to be as worthy as possible to convey the congregation's prayers to Hashem, and it's not easy at all. Something about the singing during the High Holidays excites me to a level that's hard to explain. Every year, I pray and hope that I'll succeed in this mission with dignity. It's not just about vocal quality, which of course is very important since the audience needs to connect, love, and enjoy the prayer. But I mainly mean that I hope to genuinely make an impact from the heart on everyone."

Over the years, an element of Jewish identity joined Krischer's cantorial profession. "This happened because I went to places around the world where there were Jews with very little familiarity with Judaism, and when they saw me with my beard and cantor's outfit, they started asking questions as if I were a rabbi. Since I didn't want to turn them away empty-handed, you could say I had to open various books to learn more about their questions. I was afraid to mislead and wanted to ensure I answered correctly, and there were times I found myself sitting for half a day and studying so that I would be prepared for that event or holiday and meet good Jews whose knowledge of Judaism was scant and meager."

Didn't you feel a burden on your shoulders when they essentially turned you into a rabbi?

"The truth is one of the best things that came out of it is that I simply sit and study much more systematically. I enjoyed all the knowledge I accumulated and added to myself so much that I decided to return to yeshiva for more hours." Indeed, today Krischer studies every morning in a yeshiva, while his afternoons and evenings are dedicated to singing, cantoring, recordings, and events.

The Disabled Child Began to Move His Left Leg

Anyone who has developed a musical career to any degree encounters this incredible world of relentless kindness industry. Krischer, too, very quickly began receiving invitations and requests to sing at events for sick children and in various hostels. "This was many years ago," Krischer recalls. "I was approached by one of the organizations in Ashdod and was asked to come and sing for the sick children. Since I had two other events planned for that day, I was concerned about my voice and asked if they could postpone the event." But they couldn't postpone, and they really insisted Krischer come "just for half an hour" - they said. And Krischer indeed came. "I saw all the children there, and my heart just sank," Krischer recalls. "I sang and cried. I had to stop several times from the emotion." Ultimately, the event lasted a full hour, with its conclusion marking the most moving moment for him. "The main coordinator approached me and said, 'You don't understand what you've done.' I didn't really understand what I had done, then she told me that the child doesn't move his legs at all and is confined to a wheelchair. 'When you sang, the child moved his left leg.' I was deeply moved, even more so because that evening I managed to sing at events with full strength and enthusiasm, both with personal good feeling and the voice remained clear and quality as I wanted it to be. One of the people there told me about the verse, 'With the light of Your face You have given us the Torah of life and love of kindness...' When one engages in the words of Torah and kindness - their face shines."

"The child began moving his left leg"

And if you thought that was the end, it's not. Six years later, Krischer was invited to sing at a camp for disadvantaged children in Ashdod. "As soon as I entered, I just recognized him," Krischer recalls with excitement. "He stood there with his parents, walking almost normally. I immediately approached them and asked, 'Is it you from that camp?' They were very excited to see me and told me that since that initial movement to the sound of my singing, their son's progress continued until he was able to walk on his own. "That was the moment I promised myself that no matter what, whenever they ask me to sing as an act of kindness, I will go no matter what."