Mostly I’m Silent
Accidental s*ngs ab-ut g?d:
“Only the Beginning” by Chicago
This is the first in a series I’m calling “(accidental) s*ngs ab-ut g?d.” (and by g?d I mean… that which is greater than us. Or holiness. Or is-ness. Or whatever you think!) And we’re starting with one of my favorite bands- Chicago. Chicago was my dad’s favorite band (and hometown- go Cubbies!) and we played their best-of tapes constantly. I’ve seen them live twice, the last time being in Durham over Hanukkah (what a miracle!) Just like any sacred text, new meanings come into focus every time, and these songs are no different. Especially “Only the Beginning.” While many songs make some sense if you imagine them being sung to the Holy One, “Only the Beginning” is something else- not about g?d per say, but about life, and prayer, and the origins of prayer, and how hard it is to put it in words. Let me explain:
Robert Lamm, the writer and singer, begins thusly:
When I'm with you, it doesn't matter where we are, or what we're doing
I'm with you, that's all that matters
It starts with a statement of proximity. The activity does not matter- just being. It has to start from being in the flow enough to notice the moment.Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to write a song about it. Start with being.
Time passes much too quickly when we're together laughing
I wish I could sing it to you, oh no
I wish I could sing it to you
In a present, connected place, time feels different. It is the time that they are sharing that matters- and it’s never enough time. But even though he can’t spend all his moments in that present, connected place, it’s important enough that he desires to express himself. In return for being, he longs to sing. What makes us yearn to sing?
Now, we have the niggun part. Really:
Oh whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
He wishes he could sing, but what comes out is a wordless melody, or:
Mostly I'm silent, mm-hm-hm-hm... Silent, la la la la la
Never think of the right words to say
How do you put an experience into words? Can you?
When I kiss you, I feel a thousand different feelings
The color of chills all over my body
A thousand feelings all at once. Chills that have color- it’s like thunder you can see and lightning you can hear. Through poetic words, Robert is trying to get his subject, and us, to feel what he feels. But we can’t.
And when I feel them, I quickly try to decide which one
I should try to put into words, oh no, try to put into words
Here it is again, that longing to express. He starts from his head, trying to figure it out from an intellectual place. Which word will capture what I’m trying to say?
But then we go into the niggun again, and mostly he’s silent. Mostly. Because at the start of the outro, we hear:
Only the beginning of what I want to feel forever
It’s the feeling that matters, the experience. He couldn’t put it into words perfectly, but he wrote the song anyway. I can image that the writing of the song helped him express his gratitude and love, and hold on to that feeling even when apart from his person.
Prayer is a response to life. In the present moment, when we feel so much love and joy, or pain and sorrow, that we need to respond. Prayer are the words we try to say, the whoaaaas, and the silence. Just as the author of Anim Zemirot lamented that no one has truly known the Holy One and wrote a poem anyway, and Robert Lamm couldn’t find the words and wrote a song anyway, so too can we give ourselves permission to feel and be and express, even if we aren’t totally sure. It means we’re in the moment, in the flow of life, and care enough to respond. So what takes your breath away? What gives you life? What is your song?