S'lichos: The song of the schulklopfer

By Moshe Weiss

y the light of the silvery moon, the shadow of the schulklopfer loomed large as he made his way through the shtetl, pausing at the doorsteps of his congregants’ homes just long enough to tap their doors and windows. Two taps for morning services; three or more, depending on occasion and local custom, for a different service.

But this night, there was no mistaking the number of taps, or the service to which congregants were being summoned. Even before the dwellers within each home heard the klop of the schulklopfer, they heard the haunting melody by which they were awakened just one year ago. “Shtet auf, shtet auf kinder, shtet auf la’avodas ha Boray. Shtet auf tzu S’lichos.”

“Wake up, wake up children, wake up to serve the Creator. Wake up for S’lichos.”

The most famous schulklopfer, albeit posthumously, was the great-grandfather of the Romantic era composer Felix (born Jakob) Mendelssohn. But Menachem Mendel, who served as schulklopfer in the small city of Dessau, Germany in the late 17th century, followed a tradition that long preceded him.

Sefer ha-Maharil, a compilation of the religious observances and rites of 14th and 15th century Ashkenaz Jewry in the home and synagogue, explicitly describes the role of the schulklopfer, relating that except on the Ninth of Av, the schulklopfer would daily summon the congregation for services. And though the term itself dates from the 13th century, the office of schulklopfer, and the rites in which he engaged, may be almost two millennia old, as alluded to in Talmud Yerushalmi (Beitzah 5:2).

S’lichos, an order of emotionally stirring and deeply moving penitential prayers, some as old as the first century, most composed in the 12th through 13th centuries, are recited on fast days throughout the year. (This explains the custom some have of fasting on the days preceding Rosh Hashanah, when s’lichos are recited.) There are more than 2000 s’lichos, composed by more than 250 authors, among them famous pay’tanim (poets) including Rashi, Sa’adya Gaon and Solomon ibn G’birol, composer of perhaps the most famous piyut (poem) of all, Adon Olam.

But the S’lichos service that inaugurates the Yomim Noraim, the Days of Awe, is particularly remarkable for its poignancy, and most notable for the depth of emotion it conveys. Humility and reflection, forgiveness and introspection — these are the themes of S’lichos — as we beseech Hakadosh Baruch Hu — the Holy One, blessed be He — for mercy. Indeed, it was specifically in order to prepare for, and create the penitential mood of Aseres Y’may Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Penitence, that the S’lichos days, and the chanting of the S’lichos liturgy, were instituted as a preamble to the ultimate Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur.

For many chazzanim, this writer included, S’lichos night, its soulful poetry and plaintive nusach, are the liturgical and musical highlights of the High Holy Days. And who can blame us for feeling this way? According to the midrash (Tanna d’Vay Eliyahu Zuta), “...The Holy One, blessed be He, descended from the mist like a shliach tzibur enveloped in his tallis, and, standing before the ark, revealed to Moses the order of S’lichos (see also T.B. Rosh haShanah 17b).” That image alone, at the same time both tender and powerful, is a compelling metaphor for the S’lichos service.

A haunting chant, the “s’licha mode,” is used throughout the service, as emotionally charged musical cadences expressively rendered by the shliach tzibbur highlight the gripping liturgy composed by the pay’tanim. In the Yemenite tradition, a blast of the shofar is part of every S’licha service, and in all traditions, much of the S’lichos liturgy is recited responsively. No matter which tradition, the searing power of an age-old text rendered through millennia-old nusach instills a mood of solemnity designed to inspire all to greater spiritual heights as the Yomim Nora’im approach.

Today, the only remnant of the schulklopfer may be an 18th century Hungarian schulklopfer’s shofar-shaped mallet on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. But though the medium of the schulklopfer of old may have been replaced by e-mail and fax, instant messages and texts, neither his chant, nor his message, have been forgotten; indeed, the wake-up call of the S’lichos is ever so necessary, no less today than yesteryear.

If you listen very closely on your way to shul this Motza’ei Shabbos, you too might just hear the melancholy tune of the schulklopfer of old: “Shtet auf, shtet auf kinder, shtet auf la’avodas haBoray. Shtet auf tzu S’lichos.”

In my view

By Moshe Weiss

By the light of the silvery moon, the shadow of the schulklopfer loomed large as he made his way through the shtetl, pausing at the doorsteps of his congregants’ homes just long enough to tap their doors and windows. Two taps for morning services; three or more, depending on occasion and local custom, for a different service.

But this night, there was no mistaking the number of taps, or the service to which congregants were being summoned. Even before the dwellers within each home heard the klop of the schulklopfer, they heard the haunting melody by which they were awakened just one year ago. “Shtet auf, shtet auf kinder, shtet auf la’avodas ha Boray. Shtet auf tzu S’lichos.”

“Wake up, wake up children, wake up to serve the Creator. Wake up for S’lichos.”

The most famous schulklopfer, albeit posthumously, was the great-grandfather of the Romantic era composer Felix (born Jakob) Mendelssohn. But Menachem Mendel, who served as schulklopfer in the small city of Dessau, Germany in the late 17th century, followed a tradition that long preceded him.

Sefer ha-Maharil, a compilation of the religious observances and rites of 14th and 15th century Ashkenaz Jewry in the home and synagogue, explicitly describes the role of the schulklopfer, relating that except on the Ninth of Av, the schulklopfer would daily summon the congregation for services. And though the term itself dates from the 13th century, the office of schulklopfer, and the rites in which he engaged, may be almost two millennia old, as alluded to in Talmud Yerushalmi (Beitzah 5:2).

S’lichos, an order of emotionally stirring and deeply moving penitential prayers, some as old as the first century, most composed in the 12th through 13th centuries, are recited on fast days throughout the year. (This explains the custom some have of fasting on the days preceding Rosh Hashanah, when s’lichos are recited.) There are more than 2000 s’lichos, composed by more than 250 authors, among them famous pay’tanim (poets) including Rashi, Sa’adya Gaon and Solomon ibn G’birol, composer of perhaps the most famous piyut (poem) of all, Adon Olam.

But the S’lichos service that inaugurates the Yomim Noraim, the Days of Awe, is particularly remarkable for its poignancy, and most notable for the depth of emotion it conveys. Humility and reflection, forgiveness and introspection — these are the themes of S’lichos — as we beseech Hakadosh Baruch Hu — the Holy One, blessed be He — for mercy. Indeed, it was specifically in order to prepare for, and create the penitential mood of Aseres Y’may Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Penitence, that the S’lichos days, and the chanting of the S’lichos liturgy, were instituted as a preamble to the ultimate Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur.

For many chazzanim, this writer included, S’lichos night, its soulful poetry and plaintive nusach, are the liturgical and musical highlights of the High Holy Days. And who can blame us for feeling this way? According to the midrash (Tanna d’Vay Eliyahu Zuta), “...The Holy One, blessed be He, descended from the mist like a shliach tzibur enveloped in his tallis, and, standing before the ark, revealed to Moses the order of S’lichos (see also T.B. Rosh haShanah 17b).” That image alone, at the same time both tender and powerful, is a compelling metaphor for the S’lichos service.

A haunting chant, the “s’licha mode,” is used throughout the service, as emotionally charged musical cadences expressively rendered by the shliach tzibbur highlight the gripping liturgy composed by the pay’tanim. In the Yemenite tradition, a blast of the shofar is part of every S’licha service, and in all traditions, much of the S’lichos liturgy is recited responsively. No matter which tradition, the searing power of an age-old text rendered through millennia-old nusach instills a mood of solemnity designed to inspire all to greater spiritual heights as the Yomim Nora’im approach.

Today, the only remnant of the schulklopfer may be an 18th century Hungarian schulklopfer’s shofar-shaped mallet on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. But though the medium of the schulklopfer of old may have been replaced by e-mail and fax, instant messages and texts, neither his chant, nor his message, have been forgotten; indeed, the wake-up call of the S’lichos is ever so necessary, no less today than yesteryear.

If you listen very closely on your way to shul this Motza’ei Shabbos, you too might just hear the melancholy tune of the schulklopfer of old: “Shtet auf, shtet auf kinder, shtet auf la’avodas haBoray. Shtet auf tzu S’lichos.”