From Jonathan Cott's new book, Dinner with Lenny: The Last Long Interview with Leonard Bernstein, Oxford University Press, 2013, pp. 64-66:
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Bernstein: You know, in 1988 I took the orchestra to Israel—think of it: the Vienna Philharmonic—and one of the works we played in Jerusalem was, in fact, Mahler's Sixth. That was an experience! Imagine...this all-Catholic orchestra whose players, before I conducted them, didn't know what a Jew was—musicians growing up in the birthplace of Freud, Schönberg, Wittgenstein, Karl Kraus...not to mention Mahler—a Vienna that had become a city with almost no Jews that was at one time the Jewish center of the world!
Once, when the players were rehearsing my Kaddish Symphony for the first time, they stopped the rehearsal of their own accord to ask me what the word kaddish meant, and why they were so moved by the piece, and if I could tell them something about it. And I said that we had to finish up at six o'clock because they were also going to be playing at the opera that night, and they had to get across town to the Wiener Staatsoper, grab a goulash and a cup of coffee on the way, and be ready for the downbeat at seven. I pointed this out to them and said that we hadn't read halfway through the symphony yet. And they said, Wir bleiben...we'll stay. I polled the whole orchestra and asked them, "How many of you have to play the opera tonight?" Twenty or so hands went up. "What's the opera?" Ariadne. Now, Richard Strauss's opera Ariadne auf Naxos is no easy job. But Wir bleiben, Wir bleiben, they insisted. "Just tell us what kaddish means."
So I said that it was related to the word sanctus, that what they said in church every week—sanctus, sanctus, sanctus—is the same word as kadosh, kadosh, kadosh. And they were turning white...and then one of the musicians stood up and said, Was meinen Sie, Meister? War der Christe Jüdische? "Are you telling us that Jesus was Jewish?" Like innocent babies! I couldn't believe it. And I got so angry at them and said, "How can you ask me these questions? You've grown up in this city that was the Judendzentrum of the world, and you killed them all, or drove them out."
So this went on after other rehearsals, and sometimes even after performances they would grab me and take me for a drink at a bar and continue the conversation. And finally one of the clarinet players explained: "We were brought up from the age of two years old not to ask questions because we would get no answers. So we didn't ask. We picked up a couple of things from magazines and television here and there, but we could never ask."
They didn't know that Jesus was Jewish or that Jesus spoke a language called Aramaic or that in his time he was referred to as Rabbi Yeshua ben Yosef or that benedictus mean Baruch Haba B'Shem Adonai or that there was a connection between the Old and New Testaments. They were all churchgoing kids, well brought up in the traditions of their Nazi grandfathers. And yet I think of them as my dear children and brothers. People sometimes ask me how I can go to Vienna—Kurt Waldheim is the president of Austria!—and conduct the Vienna Philharmonic. Simply, it's because I love the way they love music. And love does a lot of things.
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This offers some insight into Bernstein's relationship with the Vienna Philharmonic vis-à-vis Jewish culture and music, or at least how Bernstein perceived that relationship.
James