Rabbi Dr. Sandra Katz on listening in a new way

Musician’s Ears, Chaplain’s Ears

Before I wanted to be a rabbi, I wanted to be a cantor. To achieve my goal, I went to music school. There I learned of my vocal limitations and my distinct lack of talent – and, thank goodness, other lessons that continue to inform my work.

I have mused on these ways that music and chaplaincy, two listening professions, interact:

1. Am I in the middle of the pitch? If I am singing sharp or flat, even by just a little bit, it makes it impossible for others to join me, and even untrained ears know that there is something a little off. Corollary questions: Am I staying true to the composer’s intent, true to the music, true to the other aspects of the piece?

2. I felt a little sorry for the violin majors. They all had to be divas to succeed. I noticed that some of the other singers needed to be divas, too. The best singers in my school could step out when it was time to sing solo, and blend seamlessly when they rejoined the ensemble.

3. A favorite conductor used to rehearse us in sections unless we started to sound fatigued. Then he would scramble us, making sure that we stood next to no one from our voice part. I believe that this contributed to our phenomenal blend. Each singer had to know his or her part independently when we sang scrambled. More than that, hearing the other singers always gave me a sense of the richness of the music that reignited my passion for what we sang and inspired me with awe for my ensemble-mates.

4. My brother has the musical talent in the family. I play guitar to sing, but he plays to express himself. When we play together, I play rhythm and he makes music. I really climb out of myself, amazed at what we are able to do together and how my tiny contribution makes a difference. In choral singing, too, I often felt as if I stepped out of my body, losing myself in our shared creation.

5. The University of Oklahoma was (and is) a big football school. I noticed that the games felt very different from our concerts in this way: at the end of a game, there was a winner and a loser. When we sang, we felt the audience respond. This moved us to sing better. In turn, the audience responded more. This virtuous cycle continued, teaching me about the synergy of win/win. I really like that paradigm better than win/lose.

6. Music theory teachers like to baffle new students by telling them that they will develop a seeing ear and a hearing eye. That is, music students learn to hear a piece of music and know what it would look like on the page; they learn to read a page of music and hear it in the mind’s ear. Such a stretch for the senses strengthens our powers of observation.

So it is that we chaplains can use skills from the world of music:

1. Am I in the middle of the pitch? Am I staying true to my “call”?

2. Have I developed my ability to play on the team, singing solo when needed and blending with the group egolessly at other times?

3. Do I know how to listen for blend in my environment? When I am with a client/patient/counselee, do I play my part in the sharing of his/her life’s song?

4. Can I let myself feel the moments of transcendence? Do I grasp that this really is bigger than I am? Do I let those moments inspire and transport me?

5. Do I play for win/win in individual interactions, on the interdisciplinary team and in life?

6. Do I keep myself using all senses to be deeply present?

Musical training teaches students how to listen in a new way. I confess to forgetting what a French sixth chord sounds like. Yet my musical training, similar to my chaplaincy training, has given me tools that shape the way I hear the tone poems of my clients’ lives, the way I lead worship, and the vision I have for our community.

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