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The hora, the hora! How Jewish wedding music got that way
(JTA) — When my wife and I were planning our wedding, we thought it might be cool to hire a klezmer band. This was during the first wave of the klezmer revival, when groups like The Klezmatics and The Klezmer Conservatory Band were rediscovering the genre of Jewish wedding music popular for centuries in Yiddish-speaking Eastern Europe.
Of course we also wanted to dance to rock ‘n’ roll and needed musicians who could handle Sinatra for our parents’ benefit, so we went with a more typical wedding band. Modernity won out over tradition.
Or did it? Musician and musicologist Uri Schreter argues that the music heard at American Jewish weddings since the 1950s has become a tradition all its own, especially in the way Old World traditions coexist with contemporary pop. In a dissertation he is writing about the politics of Jewish music in the early postwar period, Schreter argues that American Jewish musical traditions — especially among secularized Conservative and Reform Jews — reflect events happening outside the wedding hall, including the Holocaust, the creation of Israel and the rapid assimilation of American Jews.
That will be the subject of a talk he’ll be giving Monday for YIVO, titled “Yiddish to the Core: Wedding Music and Jewish Identity in Postwar New York City.”
Because it’s June — and because I’m busy planning a wedding for one of my kids one year from now — I wanted to speak to Schreter about Jewish weddings and how they got that way. Our Zoom conversation Wednesday touched on the indestructibility of the hora, the role of musicians as “secular clergy” and why my Ashkenazi parents danced the cha-cha-cha.
Born in Tel Aviv, Schreter is pursuing his PhD in historical musicology at Harvard University. He is a composer, pianist and film editor.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I was struck by your research because we’re helping to plan a child’s wedding now. It’s the first wedding we’ve planned since our own, and we’re still asking the same questions, like, you’ve got to make sure the band can handle the hora and the Motown set and, I don’t know, “Uptown Funk.” Your research explores when that began — when American Jewish weddings began to combine the traditional and secular cultures.
In the period that I’m talking about, post-World War II America, this is already a fact of life for musicians. A lot of my work is based on interviews with musicians from that period, folks now in their 80s and 90s. The oldest one I have started playing professionally in 1947 or ’48. Popular American music was played at Jewish weddings as early as the 1930s, but it’s a question of proportion — how much the wedding would feature foxtrots and swing and Lindy Hop and other popular dance tunes of the day, and how much of it is going to be klezmer music.
In the postwar period, most of the [non-Orthodox] American Jewish weddings would have featured American pop. For musicians who wanted to be in what they called the “club date” business, they needed to be able to do all these things. And some “offices” — a term they used for a business that books wedding bands — would have specialists that they could call on to do a Jewish wedding.
You’re writing about a period when the Conservative movement becomes the dominant American Jewish denomination. They have one foot in tradition, and the other in modernity. What does a wedding look like in 1958 when they’re building the big suburban synagogues?
The difference is not so much denominational but between the wide spectrum of Orthodoxy and the diverse spectrum of what I describe as “secular.”
Meaning non-Orthodox — Reform, Conservative, etc.?
Right. Only in the sense that they are broadly speaking more secular than the Orthodox. And if so they are going to have, for the most part, one, maybe two sets of Jewish dance music — basically a medley of a few Jewish tunes. You might have a wedding where it could be a quarter of the music or even half would be Jewish music, but this would be for families that have a much stronger degree of attachment to traditional Jewish culture, and primarily Yiddish culture.
There’s a few interrelated elements that shape this. Class is an important thing. For lower class communities in some areas, and I am talking primarily about New York, you’d have communities that are a little bit more secluded, probably speaking more Yiddish at home and hanging out more with other Jewish people from similar backgrounds. So these kinds of communities might have as much as a third or half of the music be Jewish, even though they consider themselves secular. It’s actually very similar to an Orthodox wedding, where you might also have half and half [Jewish and “American” music].
Jews in the higher socioeconomic class might, in general, be more Americanized, and want to project a more mainstream American identity. They might have as little as five minutes of Jewish music, just to mark it that they did this. Still, it’s very important for almost all of them to have those five minutes — because it’s one of the things that makes the wedding Jewish. I interviewed couples that were getting married in the ’50s, and a lot of them told me, “You need to have Jewish dance music for this to be a Jewish wedding.”
Composer and pianist Uri Schreter is pursuing his PhD in historical musicology at Harvard University. (Nicole Loeb)
When I was growing up in the 1970s at a suburban Reform synagogue on Long Island, klezmer was never spoken about. I don’t know any parents who owned klezmer albums. Then when I got married a decade later, it was in the middle of the klezmer revival. Am I right about that? Were the ’50s and ’60s fallow periods for klezmer?
You’re definitely right. Up until the mid-1920s, you still have waves of immigration coming from Eastern Europe. So you still have new people feeding this desire for the traditional culture. But as immigration stops and people basically tried to become American, the tides shift away from traditional klezmer.
The other important thing that happens in the period that I’m looking at is both a negative rejection of klezmer and a positive attraction to other new things. Klezmer becomes associated with immigrant culture, so people who are trying to be American don’t want to be associated with it. It also becomes associated with the Holocaust, which is very problematic. Anything sounding Yiddish becomes associated for some people with tragedy.
At the same time, and very much related to this, there’s the rise of Israeli popular culture, and especially Israeli folk songs. A really strong symbol of this is in the summer of 1950, when the Weavers record a song called “Tzena, Tzena,” a Hebrew Israeli song written in the 1940s which becomes a massive hit in America — it’s like number two in the Billboard charts for about 10 weeks. Israeli culture becomes this symbol of hope and the future and a new society that’s inspiring. This is all in very stark contrast to what klezmer represents for people. And a lot of the composers of Israeli folk song of its first decades had this very clearly stated ideology that they’re moving away from Ashkenazi musical traditions and Yiddish.
So the Jewish set at a wedding becomes an Israeli set.
At a typical Conservative wedding in the 1950s and ’60s, you might hear 10 minutes of Jewish music. The first one would be “Hava Nagila,” then they went to “Tzena, Tzena,” then they would do a song called “Artza Alinu,” which is today not very well known, and then “Hevenu Shalom Aleichem.” They are songs that are perceived to be Israeli folk songs, even though if you actually look at their origins, it’s a lot murkier than that. Like two of the songs I just mentioned are actually Hasidic songs that received Hebrew words in pre-state Palestine. Another probably comes from some sort of German, non-Jewish composer in 1900, but is in Hebrew and is perceived to be a representation of Israeli culture.
But even when the repertoire already represents a shift towards what’s easier to digest for American Jewry, the arrangements and the instruments and the musical ornamentation are essentially klezmer. The musicians I spoke to said they did this because they felt that this is the only way that it would actually sound Jewish.
That is to say, to be “Jewish” the music had to gesture towards Ashkenazi and Yiddish, even if it were Israeli and Hebrew. As if Jews wanted to distance themselves from Eastern Europe — but only so far.
Someone like Dave Tarras or the Epstein Brothers, musicians who were really at the forefront of klezmer in New York at the time, were really focused on bringing it closer to Ashkenazi traditions. Ashkenazi Jewish weddings in America are not the totality of Jewish weddings in America, and Israeli music itself is made up of all these different traditions — North African, Middle Eastern, Turkish, Greek — but in effect most of the really popular songs of the time were composed by Ashkenazi composers. Even “Hava Nagila” is based on a melody from the Sadigura Hasidic sect in Eastern Europe.
Of course, if you’re a klezmer musician you’re allergic to “Hava Nagila.”
Then-Vice President Joe Biden dances the hora with his daughter Ashley at her wedding to Howard Krein in Wilmington, Delaware on June 2, 2012. (White House/David Lienemann)
You spoke earlier about Latin music, which seemed to become a Jewish thing in the 1950s and ’60s — I know a few scholars have focused on Jews and Latinos and how Latin musical genres like the mambo and cha-cha-cha became popular in the Catskill Mountain resorts and at Jewish weddings.
Latin music is not exclusively a Jewish thing, but it’s part of American popular culture by the late 40s. But Jews are very eagerly adopting it for sure. In the Catskills, you would often have two separate bands that alternated every evening. One is a Latin band, one is a generic American band playing everything else. And part of that is American Jews wanting to become American. And how do you become American? By doing what Americans do: by appropriating “exotic” cultures, in this case Latin. This is a way of being American.
Jews and Chinese food would be another example.
And by the way, in a similar vein, it also becomes very popular to dance to Israeli folk songs. A lot of people are taking lessons. A lot of people are going to their Jewish Y to learn Israeli folk dance.
I’ve been to Jewish weddings where the “Jewish set” feels very perfunctory — you know, dance a hora or two long enough to lift the couple on chairs and then let’s get to the Motown. Or the Black Eyed Peas because they were smart enough to include the words “Mazel Tov!” in the lyrics to “I Gotta Feeling.”
So that’s why we always hear that song! I will say though, even when the Jewish music appears superficial, it does have this deeper layer of meaning. It’s very interesting how, despite all these changes, and despite the secularization process of American Jewish weddings, the music still connects people to their Jewishness. These pieces of music are so meshed with other religious components. Of course, most people see this as secular. But a lot of people connect to their Jewish identity through elements such as Jewish music, Jewish food, certain Jewish customs that are easier to accommodate in your secular lifestyle, and the music specifically has this kind of flexibility, this fluidity between the sacred and the profane.
That’s beautiful. It sort of makes the musicians secular clergy.
It’s interesting that you say that. In his history of klezmer, Walter Zev Feldman refers to the klezmer — the word itself means “musician” — as a kind of a liminal character, an interstitial character between the secular and the mundane. The music is not liturgical, but when the klezmer or the band is playing, it is an interval woven with all these other religious components and things that have ritual meaning.
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How phase one of the Gaza peace plan is beginning to fray
President Donald Trump’s 20-point peace plan – which was reinforced in principle during a “peace summit” on Monday with the presidents of Egypt and Turkey, and the Emir of Qatar – is long on intention and short on details. Aaron David Miller, who advised six secretaries of state on Arab-Israeli negotiations under both Republican and Democratic presidents, says the road map may offer limited help in navigating peace in a place fraught with challenges.
Phase One
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu accepted the terms of the deal during a White House meeting in September, while Hamas has agreed to only the plan’s first phase, which mandates an immediate ceasefire, an Israeli troop withdrawal to an agreed upon line, a return of the hostages held by Hamas, and the release of Palestinian prisoners.
The ceasefire’s fragility is already apparent. Today, Israeli forces killed several Palestinians in Gaza City who they say were “crossing a yellow line” that is under IDF control as part of the ceasefire agreement.
Only four of about two dozen deceased hostages were turned over to Israeli authorities on Monday, with four more turned over on Tuesday. Egyptian teams are working to locate the remains, as the Red Cross warned that some may never be found.
Israeli officials reduced the number of aid trucks allowed into Gaza to 300 trucks daily, from the 600 originally intended, because of the delays in returning the dead hostages.
What’s missing
Miller, a senior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, says that what the plan leaves out may be just as significant as what it includes.
“This is not the Oslo agreement. It doesn’t call for Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank. It’s not a peace agreement between Israel and key Arab states,” Miller said. “It is a road map that could potentially end the war in Gaza. That’s what it is. It’s nothing more than that.”
One of the reasons Netanyahu was able to accept the plan, Miller said, is because there are enough provisions to satisfy the majority of the Israeli public, such as Hamas disarmament.
“It’s inherently a pro-Israeli plan, both in terms of structure and substance,” Miller said. “You could have created this plan in an Israeli laboratory.”
What the plan says will happen to Hamas, Gaza, and Palestinians
According to the plan, “Gaza will be redeveloped for the benefit of the people of Gaza, who have suffered more than enough.”
Specifics include that Gaza “will be governed under the temporary transitional governance of a technocratic, apolitical Palestinian committee.” The committee will “be made up of qualified Palestinians and international experts,” with oversight from a “Board of Peace” headed by Trump, until it is determined that the Palestinian Authority has sufficiently reformed and can effectively govern.
Hamas will “agree to not have any role in the governance of Gaza, directly, indirectly, or in any form,” the plan says. “All military, terror, and offensive infrastructure, including tunnels and weapon production facilities, will be destroyed and not rebuilt.”
But Hamas has said it will not lay down its arms. According to Miller, Hamas’ main objective — political survival and the need to retain influence in Gaza’s government — has not changed.
“What are the terms and circumstances [of disarmament]? What do you do about the tunnel infrastructure? Does Hamas get to keep its personal weapons, for example?” Miller said. “Every point in this plan is filled with a universe of complexity and detail that’s yet to be negotiated.”
The plan also says that “No one will be forced to leave Gaza, and those who wish to leave will be free to do so and free to return. We will encourage people to stay and offer them the opportunity to build a better Gaza.”
The provision marks a departure from Trump’s previous plan to turn Gaza into a “Riviera of the Middle East,” which called on Arab states to absorb Gaza’s displaced population. Trump had said those relocations would be permanent, with no right of return.
Still, some aspects of the plan nod to his idea for real estate development, including the establishment of a special economic zone with preferred tariff rates and “a Trump economic development plan.”
The agreement also establishes “an interfaith dialogue process” with the goal to “change mindsets and narratives of Palestinians and Israelis by emphasizing the benefits that can be derived from peace.”
The plan concludes that when these processes are complete, “the conditions may finally be in place for a credible pathway to Palestinian self-determination and statehood, which we recognize as the aspiration of the Palestinian people.”
But Miller remains dubious that the language is meaningful.
“I suppose you might argue that the nod to Palestinian statehood could be a problem [for Israel], but it’s so general and so distant as to be more or less not terribly relevant,” he said.
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Trump drew Arab leaders into a historic peace agreement. Too bad about the one glaring caveat
It was impressive, no question about that: A sitting American president, flanked by the heads of Egypt, Turkey and Qatar — among dozens of other countries — signing a document that contains all the right words and sentiments needed for achieving Middle East peace.
But Tuesday’s display in the Egyptian city of Sharm el-Sheikh may be all for naught. For Hamas to disarm and disappear — which is the only way that this two-year nightmare can truly end well — massive, sustained, multi-dimensional and focused pressure will be needed in the days and weeks ahead.
The newly signed so-called Trump Declaration for Enduring Peace and Prosperity is a far-reaching and courageous diplomatic text. It unambiguously denounces radicalization and violent extremism, signalling that the Arab states are no longer willing to indulge militancy as a permanent fact of life — a major move in shifting the balance of the Arab-Israeli conflict away from jihadism. The declaration also does something else extraordinary: it explicitly acknowledges the Jewish historical and spiritual connection to the land of Israel, and insists on “friendly and mutually beneficial relations between Israel and its regional neighbors.”
The text envisions new efforts to create peace between Israelis and Palestinians, on the heels of the Gaza war, not as working toward a reluctant truce, but rather as a civilizational project grounded in tolerance, education, opportunity and shared prosperity. All of this — if it is to be enforced — will represent a moral revolution for a region long trapped in denial, grievance, and violence. It suggests the assembled are truly ready for an end to the cycles of violence.
The symbolism does have meaning. That Qatar and Turkey, both of which have long existed in enmity with Israel, lined up behind a statement calling for peaceful coexistence is no small thing. For a region so long dominated by grievance, that alone suggests a tectonic shift.
But symbolism is not a plan.
The leaders who signed the Tuesday statement know this, and have thrown their weight behind the successful execution of President Donald Trump’s peace plan, which both Israel and Hamas have agreed to. “We acknowledge that the Middle East cannot endure a persistent cycle of prolonged warfare, stalled negotiations, or the fragmentary, incomplete, or selective application of successfully negotiated terms,” they wrote.
Reading between the lines, that’s an acknowledgment that there is one major way in which the plan could fail: If Hamas refuses to disarm and vacate Gaza. That one clause — buried among the 20 points of the deal Trump announced two weeks ago — is the fulcrum on which the entire edifice rests. And the problem is that this “successfully negotiated term” has not been publicly agreed to by Hamas. Trump merely announced that peace had been achieved. And experienced observers of Hamas know that the group will seek any possible out to ensure their own survival.
If they find one, and Trump and his regional collaborators don’t crack down, then the whole thing collapses. The Arab leaders can declare peace, but if Hamas still has weapons, the war is not over. It’s paused.
The early signs are bad, despite Hamas’ release of the 20 remaining living hostages on Monday. Even as Trump and the Arab leaders signed their declaration, reports from Gaza described Hamas commanders consolidating power, executing accused collaborators, and appointing local “emirs” to replace municipal officials. The group is not surrendering; it is reorganizing.
Trump’s triumph is real enough in the short term. But if the deal falters on this front, it will mean disaster for Gaza, where Israel would be within its rights to resume the war to oust Hamas. It could also be a death stroke for the career of embattled Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. If Hamas doesn’t disarm, and reestablishes power, Netanyahu’s critics will argue correctly that what actually occurred — ending the fighting in exchange for the hostages — was achievable since the very early days of the war, when many more people were still alive. Netanyahu will be accused of having fought, and sacrificed, for nothing — except for, perhaps, the survival of his extremely unpopular far-right coalition.
Though unseemly to admit, some in Israel may be quietly hoping for this outcome: That Hamas, true to form, will make a mockery of the deal, and ensure that Netanyahu cannot escape political judgment for his failures — leading up to the attack of Oct. 7, 2023, and ever since.
I sympathize: Netanyahu is terrible for Israel. But it’s in all our best interests to hope against that result, and for the peace powerfully if vaguely outlined in Tuesday’s agreement. We must hope, too, that Trump resists his habitual pattern of losing interest. His pattern in global affairs — from North Korea to Iran — has been to claim credit and move on, leaving others to clean up the contradictions. If that happens again here, the “Trump Peace Agreement” will join a long list of Trumpian theatrics.
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‘They’re fed up’: Post-ceasefire, Israel faces an enormous political reckoning
My brother-in-law, David Levy, didn’t sleep much the night before the release of the last living hostages. That day, he stayed glued to the family TV — along with what seemed like the entire country.
“You could just see the injection of spirit this has given to Israel,” he said.
“I finally get why Judaism talks so much about ‘the redemption of captives,’” he said, referring to the religious duty to free prisoners. “You see how this has just driven Israelis crazy for the past two years.”
Now, there’s a budding sense of normalcy, he said, and a tentative if clear-eyed hope for the future.
But when I asked David if he thought Palestinians and Israelis would achieve coexistence — the last point on President Donald Trump’s 20-point plan to end the war — he broke into a smile.
“Yeah,” he said, “maybe Hamas will ask for the sheet music to ‘HaTikvah.’”
After the hostage release, a reckoning
I called David, my wife’s brother, on Oct. 7, 2023, after news broke of the Hamas attack. He and his wife, Etti, had just endured a two-hour missile barrage at Kibbutz Mishmar HaNegev, where they have lived for 40 years, some 20 minutes by car from the Gaza border. He was seething with anger at how his government could let this happen.
“This is a total f-ed up,” he said at the time. He spent the next several days at funerals, shivas and memorial services for many murdered friends and colleagues.
With the release of the 20 living hostages Monday, in exchange for close to 2,000 Palestinian prisoners, there’s finally a real chance for the anger he and other Israelis felt that day to have a political impact, David said when we spoke by video app on Monday.
There will likely be an election before fall, David said — elections are mandated in 2026. He expects Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to face a reckoning over three primary issues: the cash payments Qatar made to Hamas under his watch, essentially financing the Oct. 7 attack; his refusal to force Haredi men to serve in the army, which has contributed to enormous strains on Israel’s reserve forces amid the war; and his rejection of a government investigation into Israel’s failures on and leading up to Oct. 7.
“As opposed to almost everybody else, he has never said, ‘I’m sorry,’ David said.
The long-running complaint of many Israelis is that the political opposition to Netanyahu has never coalesced around a strong candidate. But David said the past two years may have changed that as well. A new generation of young people became politically engaged because of the attack, the hostage crisis and the war.
“You had guys with jobs and families spending 400, 500, days in the army doing reserve service,” he said. “They’re fed up. All these young, capable people that just went through this war, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re going to get their say and do something.”
‘Israelis are still mourning’
I asked David if that reckoning will include an acknowledgment of Israel’s destructiveness in the war in Gaza. If the ceasefire holds, rebuilding efforts will surely be accompanied by more reports on the death toll and debastation — although international journalists are still being denied entry to the strip.
How will Israelis come to terms with it?
“What did Mosul look like after the Americans left?” he asked. Meaning: American, Iraqi and allied troops destroyed an estimated 60% of the Iraqi city of Mosul in a 2017 effort to rout ISIS fighters, killing an estimated 9,000 civilians. Did Americans ever really confront that harm — or even, as a collective, feel an obligation to?
“I don’t think the mindset was we just turn the place into rubble for the sake of turning it into rubble,” he said.
He has seen the rubble of Gaza himself, during visits to friends in border communities, and said he agrees “the destruction is going to be something that has to be reckoned with,” he said.
“But you know, Israelis are still mourning. That sounds like a cop out, but Israelis have not totally not dealt with the other side.”
The reason, he said, is that two years later, the trauma of Oct. 7 is still fresh.
“The Israeli public has been so devastated,” he said, “we’re wrapped up in ourselves. I don’t know when we’ll get over it. Everybody knows somebody who knows somebody who’s been affected directly by this war.”
What comes next?
Israel wants its image abroad to improve, David said. Trump’s peace plan, although fragile — already, there are clashes over Hamas’ delay in returning the bodies of slain hostages — offers an opening.
“If there’s peace, and Gaza gets rebuilt properly, so that these people can have a good life instead of just being pawns in this crazy death cult of Hamas, then I’m sure that this will improve Israel’s reputation around the world,” David said. “But will Hamas give up power and disarm?”
That question is central to fears over whether Trump’s plan will be fulfilled. It’s a serious concern. Even as David raised it, I noticed an incoming news alert that Hamas militants had killed at least 33 Gazans whom the group accused of collaborating with Israel.
Yet there are still reasons to be hopeful. After attending a day of memorials on the second anniversary of Oct. 7, David said he was preparing to spend Simchat Torah — the holiday on which the massacre took place in 2023 — at a festive family meal, cooked by his son-in-law, who owns a Jerusalem restaurant.
Is that kind of true celebration a sign the war is really over? I asked.
“I want to hope so,” he said. “I really, really want this to be over.”
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