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Chevrei:
This past month has been an interesting one for me. Last month I wrote in the newsletter that the Hebrew month of Cheshvan, which we have just finished, is usually called "bitter" because of the absence of any holidays. It is often a welcome season for Jewish clergy since it follows Tishre, the busiest month in the year, liturgically speaking. Cheshvan, 5762, however was not slow enough for me and I learned an important lesson as a result.
Many of you know that I have been "off the bimah" for the last few weeks and will not resume my full singing/chanting duties until the beginning of December. This change in my work was brought on by a vocal injury. I have been singing in public since the age of 17 and for the first time ever, I developed vocal nodules. While preparing for our first Shabbat Slam service this past October, I found myself with laryngitis (a swelling of the vocal folds, usually due to a cold or other upper respiratory infection.) Tuesday night before the service, as I rehearsed with the "Slam" ensemble, I felt my voice go stiff. Despite taking gallons of tea, juice, vitamin c, miso soup, DW-40 (just kidding) my voice would not clear. Finally, feeling frantic, I called my doctor to ask if she had a miracle cure. She gave me a short course of steroids with instructions to "load" them just before I had to sing.
The steroids did not create the desired effect. I was still suffering the effects of the laryngitis. However, having practiced with the band for several weeks and planned with Rabbi Sid many details of this first Slam service, I was convinced that I simply had to sing, regardless of the condition of my voice. Deep down, I knew that I could really wreak havoc, causing much more serious damage if I pushed, but my poor sense of perspective got the better of me and I arrived to "sing" the service. (For those of you who were there, you will remember that it was really more squeaking than singing!) With the help of Rachel Goldsmith and my husband Jonathan, we did manage to move through the music. Rabbi Sid, as usual, was a compelling and dynamic leader and the evening was successful despite my situation.
When my voice still would not clear, I returned to the doctor for a follow-up and got the diagnosis of nodules. For a singer, this can be extremely serious, sometimes involving surgery and long periods of vocal rest. In my case, the injury was acute (as opposed to being a result of years of chronic vocal abuse) and the nodules are small. The doctor sent me to a voice treatment specialist who said resting for about six weeks should allow the injury to heal completely. I have visited her office several times in the past few weeks and practiced various versions of, "the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain", talked to a computer to measure my voice and put on an machine that let me hear myself as others do. So what are the lessons from this small journey? Certainly a greater appreciation of the fragility of the body and the supreme importance of health above all else, the importance of knowing your physical limits and abiding by them. I am reminded of the line from Debbie Friedman’s Mi Sheberach, "Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing." In fact, it does take a kind of courage to live within your physical means, to rest before the crisis arises.
For several Shabbatot I have had the opportunity to be a member of the congregation at services, and this is perhaps the most valuable outcome for me. First of all, the chance to daven without being "on" as a cantor (while being very much "on" as a mother) and find, again, the beauty and power of the liturgy, to listen to the likes of Jack Feder soar his way through the Shacharit Kedushah has been a precious gift--without the injury, I would have missed this opportunity. I had the chance to experience what our members do and to consider my role in creating that experience as a leader of services. Finally, I had the chance to realize, again, that if I were not a cantor by profession, I would still choose to be an active member of Adat Shalom.
I do not wish injury or illness on myself or anyone else, however, I have gained something valuable from this passage. May we all go forward in health and strength and the wisdom that comes of knowing our own vulnerabilities.
B’vracha
(Cantor) Rachel
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