"...That this Song May Be a Witness.. "
The Power of Chant
Rabbi Shefa Gold

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.

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