Cantor Alicia Stillman

Cantor Alicia Stillman’s Personal Statement

“If you know the words, sing. If you don’t know the words, sing louder”

– D. Friedman

My teacher and mentor, Debbie Friedman, said these words to me while we sat together strumming a song I did not yet know in the basement of Hebrew Union college. I opened my mouth to voice my objection; she strummed faster and faster, encouraging me to ‘jump in,’ singing louder and louder; having a faith in my abilities that I still doubted, and I realized that what she said was not just a trifling encouragement, but a life philosophy that I have since claimed as my own mantra. One that I have gone on to repeat countless times.

Following Debbie’s pasing in 2011, I created a “Debbie inspired” Shabbat service for my student pulpit that incorporated her music, teachings, and personal anecdotes. I didn’t have many, so I opened with my new mantra. Not surprisingly, the congregation laughed with relief — glad that I would not push them to do something embarrassing or scary, nor have any expectations of them other than to open their minds, hearts, and voices. This short turn of phrase gave them permission to make their own joyful noise, make mistakes, sing off key, listen, cross, relax, and to simply enter prayer. To my great joy, they did. 

I’ve relied on this phrase many times since – when I say it, to students in class, worshippers in our sanctuary, or even beside someone in hospital, it is received as an open invitation, a hand extended in friendship to join our band of worshippers and fellow Jews to feel safe enough to be private in public. To know they will be led to places they may not yet know, but that there is trust enough to go along, with faith that something in them will transform as they do. 

I can recall one hospice visit in particular, I was visiting our Temple’s founding President, her family chatting loudly with each other near the foot of her bed. It was a Friday afternoon and I took her hand to sing Shabbos songs, and though she was not quite coherent or focused, nor capable of meaningful communication, I asked her to sing with me; though inaudible, I knew she would join me. I knew this, because as her family’s chatter grew increasingly louder, I stopped mid-verse of Shalom Aleichem and said to her, “they’re getting so noisy over there; we’ll need to sing louder so they don’t disturb us,” my jaw dropped as she did something that I had never seen before or since. Her eyes grew wide, she stopped trembling for that brief moment, and looked right at me with a big smile; she was understood.

This teaching has helped me invite religious imagination, awe, and musical curiosity into our worship space. My weekday morning minyan has become a playground for experimentation of music and spiritual exploration. The hard-earned trust between us is such that even when the music is new, they willingly join in. Stephen King once said of his own writing process, that he waited to ‘fall into the page;’ he needed to show up, sit, and move his pen, and eventually he would ‘fall in.’ It is the same with singing, I just ask you to show up, open your mouth, and let your heart out; whatever it is we offer, it is with love and good intention and higher purpose. I am filled with gratitude and appreciation for the ability to experiment together in order to deepen our spiritual pursuits. And because of this, we grow closer together. 

Several years ago, I was asked to comment on an essay by Abraham Joshua Heschel: “The Spirit of Jewish Prayer, (1953) which pondered whether synagogues were becoming a graveyard for our souls and for prayer — I felt back then, and I still feel today that they are in fact the opposite, an incubator and playground for spiritual creativity. A synagogue is the very opposite of a graveyard, it is, rather, a garden!

Rabbi Heschel continued: “There are many who can execute and display magnificent fireworks; but who knows how to kindle a spark in the darkness of a soul?” Indeed, a prayer should change us, a synagogue life should enrich us, and we should leave every worship and sacred gathering a little bit different than when we arrived. That is our task – to kindle a spark in the darkness of a soul; and the best and most lasting way I know to do that is with music.

I return to my mantra: “If you know the words, sing. If you don’t know the words, sing louder.” It reminds me to fearlessly engage with people, text, and complexity. It is a charge to be courageous and aspirational in our endeavors as spiritual leaders – it is an inspiration for all of us to be a light shining toward the future and lovingly join hands with our congregational family as we embark on this life journey together.