“…That this Song May Be a Witness…”
Like many Jews, I am a lover of words. I loved Hebrew, even when I didn’t “understand” a word of it. The sounds seemed to open up the place inside me that wanted to pour itself out to God. The sounds turned me inside-out in ways that made me feel visible to God. Seen and known and loved. As my love for the sounds, and my knowledge of words grew, I found myself seriously out of step with formal communal prayer.
My thirst to drink deeply from certain phrases in the liturgy that called to me, was constantly being frustrated by the pace and sheer volume of traditional prayer. I began to look for what was essential in prayer, and to search for the deep structure of the prayer service, which would help me to understand the function and not merely the content of each prayer. My background in music and many forms of meditation prepared me in developing a chanting practice which treated the sacred phrase as a doorway. Repetition became a way of stilling the mind and opening the heart wide. In that wide space it felt as if the sacred phrases were planting seeds.
In D’varim 31, God instructs Moshe to “write this song for yourselves and teach it to the Israelites; put it in their mouths, that this song may be a witness…” God goes on to predict that when the people enter the Land, they will “get fat”, meaning, they will grow complacent and forgetful, breaking the covenant. When that happens, even though they might ignore every teaching, the song that has been planted within them will not be forgotten, and it will serve as a reminder, a witness which can help to redirect the hearts of the people towards the One God.
The practice of chanting cultivated in me a garden of devotion, yearning, joy and vision – reminders of my connection to God. Gradually I became familiar with the wide range of mind-states which the chants engendered. I was drawn especially to the ecstatic states which were both healing and empowering. At some point in my training I became less attached to those ecstatic states, and began to notice the silence which followed the chant. I felt myself drawn into that silence. I had known that the chant was a doorway, but before I really understood the invitation of the silence, I had not really entered.
Entering the Mishkan
Being drawn into the space within, learning to enter it without disturbing its form is like coming into the Mishkan, the Tabernacle in the desert. So much tender care and attention to detail is described in the building of the Mishkan in the book of Exodus. Artistry, skill, inventiveness and sheer generosity were called forth in that building. When I lead chanting, I feel like B’tzalel, the chief artist, directing this building project whose purpose is to create a dwelling place for God in our community, in our hearts.
Learning each particular state of mind that it is possible to attain through a certain chant has been a piece of this work. These are the tools I develop. As I expand the repertoire of tools, I feel called to constantly deepen my connection to tradition, so that I may know the prayer service as a transformational process, trust the power of prayer, and integrate the teachings of Torah into the heart that has been opened by that power.
Another piece of this work is understanding and utilizing the interdependent relationship between the “ecstatic” and the “contemplative”. The ecstatic component of chant allows me to move into contemplative space with vitality, and with the strength and fullness of my devotion. Framing chant within the context of a contemplative silent practice creates a space in which the power of the chant can deepen and evolve, allowing its power to unfold in the silence. I want to make clear that my intention is not for the chant to continue in the silence, but rather for the chanter to enter through the door of the chant into the depths and vast expanse of the silence.
Developing a Chant
In developing a chant I will first choose a phrase from the text that reaches out to me with its beauty or mystery. I pay close attention, not just to the meaning of the words, but to the sounds, both consonant and vowel, and the feelings that those sounds evoke. I’ve learned that certain sounds are particularly powerful in affecting the mind or heart or body. I’ve learned that certain rhythms of breathing will produce specific states of mind. I’ve learned to expand the range of “tones” that will inspire and evoke memory, meaning and depth. I’ve learned that the power of the chant can sometimes be increased through adding certain body movements or visualizations. I work with the tools that I know so well — melody, harmony, syncopation. And yet I don’t use these tools just to make something that is pleasing or beautiful. The chant is not a song.
The difference between chanting and singing is crucial. Chanting is primarily a meditative process which requires an inward focus on the one hand, and a sensitivity to the energy of the group, and a willingness to serve the group on the other. Through the chanting practice, both these foci are cultivated and strengthened. As with any type of meditation, effort is required, and yet at some point one must simply surrender to the power of the chant, the presence that has been invited in, and the transformation that is working through you.
I will give an example of a chant and how it might be used. The chant consists of a phrase taken from Psalm 23. It is Kosi R’vaya, often translated as “My cup runneth over.” In introducing the chant I would bring something of its context to life. Though I walk through the valley of the deepest darkness, I will not fear evil, for You, God are with me. How do you manifest yourself to me? I have come face to face with my own demons across the lavish table that You spread before me. And on that table is a cup that is overflowing.
In building the kavanah, the intention for this chant, I would invite the community to begin to become aware of two different dimensions of “cup”. One cup is located in the heart. It is the connection to the source of Life and Love within us, and no matter what befalls us, or what “enemy” faces us from across the table, that inner cup continues to flow and to overflow. The sound of the chant re-connects us to that flow. The other “cup”, is the cup that is formed in community. The sound of our voices and the strength of our shared intention create that cup which both contains the divine flow and serves as a vehicle for our nourishment. As we form the cup of community, we enable each person to access exactly what they need, to drink individually from the flow that we create together.
This chant is composed of three parts which through different rhythmic patterns, evoke the feeling of rivulets flowing mellifluously together and apart. Chanting is done with eyes closed, in order to promote greater concentration and less self-consciousness. The chant moves through a number of phases as the community gradually surrenders to its flow and as each heart begins to open in response to the gentle beauty of both the inner and outer flow. Some people may feel a surge of emotion welling up in them. They are instructed to pour that emotional energy into the chant, in service to the group, and to let go of each thought or feeling as it passes. Each repetition is an opportunity to be more present to the fullness of the chant, to bring more attention to listening and receiving the “whole” of the chant, and to refining one’s own intention and generosity.
It is the leader’s responsibility to understand the direction, function and potential of the chant in the context of a service or meditation, and to know when to end the chant. Often chant leaders will end too soon, because there is a powerful message that the mind transmits when it is bored. The message to stop the chant arises from normal consciousness when it is threatened, when it can’t hold on much longer. The goal is to chant through the boredom, and through the momentary anxiety of losing control or losing the fixed boundaries of self. Past the boredom there is a shift in consciousness, a sudden expansion, and a cohesion of the group.
The most powerful moment of the chant happens in the silence that follows. The chant inclines the mind toward a certain state of consciousness which can be accessed in that moment after the chant. The discipline of chanting teaches how to discern the potential of that moment, let its fullness unfold and walk through the door that is opened by the chant. That “walk” is taken by means of a gentle deliberate directed breathing, and an expanded awareness of the energy that has emerged. A key element to using that energy is a willingness to serve and to surrender one’s “personal” experience. Thus the self expands beyond its normal boundaries and there is a taste of connection. In order to grow beyond just tasting, one must encounter certain obstacles to practice, and be careful of certain traps that lie along the way.
Obstacles and Traps
I make a distinction between obstacles and traps. It’s important to identify both. Sometimes I look at my practice life as a searching for just the right balance between “Surrender” and “Will”. The will is expressed through our commitment to rigor, regularity, moving through difficult places, expending effort, not giving up.
Each of us faces obstacles to the emergence of Will, whether it be laziness, apathy, confusion, loneliness, despair, or cynicism. The trap of the Will is in feeling that we are in perfect control and all spiritual attainments are within the grasp of our effort. When we get so caught up in the power of the will, that our egos take over, we are in danger of inflation, a serious and destructive malady that eventually excludes the flow of Divine Grace and separates us from each other.
The main obstacle to Surrender is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of letting go, fear of not being “in control”, fear of opening up to an insight that will compel us to change. The trap of Surrender comes in not being able to discern inner voices, of following blindly, and of rejecting the responsibility of becoming a partner with God rather than merely Her subject.
All spiritual practice brings us face to face with our particular resistance. In the facing we come to know ourselves, and in that knowledge comes the growth of compassion and spiritual power. It’s important to remember that resistance isn’t what keeps us from the work. It is the work. Sometimes what we yearn for the most is also what we are the most afraid of.
The practice of chant is powerfully effective in awakening that yearning, and in giving us the energy and courage to face our fears as well. The danger in spiritual practice is that each of us has our “blind spots” in regards to either the nature of resistance or our particular trap. Having either a spiritual friend or teacher to lend us a mirror for those difficult blind spots is important. Just knowing that those blind spots are there can help to keep us humble and careful.
Meditative Practice in Relation to Prayer
My chanting practice evolved out of my search for a form of prayer that would bring me to an experience of the Divine, and would continue to deepen and develop with practice. The experience of chant has enhanced and inspired my silent practice. I have what I call a “base” practice that remains the same and has become the foundation for other practices that evolve and change according whatever feels needed. That base practice is a silent 20-minute daily sit that I call D’vekut (cleaving).
It is a practice of intention. My intention is to be in God’s presence and to gently let go of all thoughts that come by, returning to my loving intention to just be in God’s presence. One of the purposes of this meditation is to develop an ongoing vital relationship with the Divine. That relationship then becomes the foundation for prayer. The deep silence that can be tasted in D’vekut becomes the wellspring from which a chanting practice can flow. I believe that different forms of Jewish meditation can strengthen one’s prayer life. When I work with a sacred phrase from the liturgy, exploring its meaning with the intuitive senses of the heart, letting that meaning expand and effect my inner life, then that phrase will always have power. The cumulative experience of using many phrases from the siddur in meditation gradually injects new life and depth into prayer.
The power of the chant can help to connect a group to one another. This is especially important in the context of a prayer service. It allows for the experience of praying in the voice of community as well as from an individual perspective. It is important to gradually connect one’s solitary meditative practice with formalized communal prayer, so that the spiritual benefit from one can inform the other.
In leading a chanting service, I study the Torah portion and look for the spiritual challenge that it presents. With that challenge in mind, I will build the kavana for the chants in ways that will inspire a “rising to meet” that challenge. A Chanting Service is a seamless process. The structure of the traditional prayer service becomes a vehicle for healing, self-expression, visioning, inner journeying, and connection — to oneself, each other, the community, the world, and to God.
God told Moshe, “Put it in their mouths, that this song may be a witness… .” Chanting takes the song that is in our mouths and plants it deep in our hearts. There it can grow and flower and bring forth the fruits of constant remembrance.
©1997 Shefa Gold. All rights reserved.