This page is under construction.
The Buddha taught his disciples using poetic verses and rhythmic, structured recitations - in a word: chanting. Chanting to preserve and deliver sacred truths was a pan-Indian custom. Long before the Buddha, there were the mysterious Indo-Aryans who chanted the Vedic hymns. The Brahmins of the Buddha’s time preserved and expanded these oral texts, and their priests were trained from youth to recite them during elaborate rituals. The Jains, known in the Buddha’s day as “niganthas,” also utilized chanting. The importance of chanting in Buddhism is not limited to cultural heritage, however: it serves several important functions for the community at large, as well as individual disciples.
Chanting is an effective way to preserve and transmit teachings orally. It is easier to recall and repeat a formulaic, rehearsed set of words, recited in a memorized rhythm, than it is to recall plainly spoken words. In the suttas, there are tell-tale signs of composition meant to facilitate this kind of oral preservation, sometimes to the chagrin of modern readers: remember, these texts were not written texts, and they were not meant to be slogged through by solitary readers thumbing through a book or scrolling on a text-based webpage. They were meant to be heard! The Buddha called disciples "sāvakas" (sāvikās for women), which literally means "hearers." Individual sermons begin with the introduction "evam me sutam - ekam samayam..." which means "Thus have I heard: at one time..." That our narrator - traditionally understood as the Buddha's faithful attendant, Ānanda, who is said to have recited from memory all of the sermons during the first assembly after the Buddha's death - makes reference to having heard each particular teaching should not be lost on us. Neither should the poetic qualities of this introduction: when recited, "evam me sutam - ekam samayam" gives us a neat little rhyming couplet, with each line consisting of five syllables, and a sonically enticing repetition of sounds in both lines (the e, m, and s sounds, specifically).
This sweet-sounding introduction eases us into the bodies of sermons which likewise possess poetic qualities that may be lost on those of us who only read translations of these sermons in English. For example, we find long strings of synonyms given for important terms to ensure accurate definitions, as well as numbered lists which serve to codify standard formulations of particular teachings. In many of these instances, we see what is called "the principle of waxing syllables," where items in strings and lists tend to progress from those with fewer syllables to those with more. This produces a metrical quality, like what we find in structured poetry, a sort of rhythmic "bounce" that smoothly guides the speaker and the listener.
We also see frequent repetition throughout the sermons, in various different contexts, that can make reading these texts somewhat burdensome. This repetition, however, eased the burden of those who preserved these oral texts by allowing them to memorize pericopes, refrains, and formulas that would more readily "stick" in one's mind than unique chunks of prose. Listeners, as well, would be treated to the familiar sounds of these passages during recitals, in much the same way one enjoys the chorus of a song.
Of course, this discussion would be incomplete without touching on the literal poetry that appears so often in the Buddha's teachings! Instances of this are too frequent to warrant listing specific examples here. Sermons often conclude with a beautifully pithy summary of its contents in an explicitly poetic, metrical form, with occasional appearances of poetic verses being spoken by those involved in a particular sermon throughout as well. The poetic qualities which can be observed in the prose sections of the sermons are, unsurprisingly, even more pronounced in the verses, and many of these verses endure as popular chants and recitations today. Furthermore, there are certain works of the canon that consist entirely of poetry: the Dhammapada, the Theragāthā, and the Therīgāthā are some of the most beloved examples.
Specific individuals were celebrated for having memorized certain teachings. The Vinaya tells of a monk named Sona, who, upon meeting the Buddha for the first time, recited the entire Atthakavagga, the "Chapter of Eights" (Snp 4) - a collection of verses. The Buddha praised him for his clear articulation and accurate recollection. In AN 1.198-208, he is named as "Sona-Kutikanna," or "Sharp-Eared Sona," and declared to be the foremost of all monks in being an eloquent speaker. In the Nandamātā Sutta (AN 7.53), the god of the northern quarter, Great King Vessavana, was delighted to overhear a laywoman named Velukantakī reciting a collection of verses called the Pārāyanavagga, "The Chapter on the Way to the Other Shore" (Snp 5). Interestingly, in the Mahākaccāna Bhaddekaratta Sutta (MN 133), we see the story of a monk named Samiddhi, who was approached by an unnamed god that manifested before him specifically to ask if he had memorized the "Bhaddekaratta" verses and their accompanying explanation - both of which can be found in the preceding Bhaddekaratta Sutta (MN 131). After answering in the negative, he was urged by that god to make the effort to learn them. All of these examples show that, even within the Buddha's lifetime, the memorization of verses and sermons was considered to be an important achievement worthy of celebration, and that teachings were delivered with the express purpose of being preserved in this way.
The suttas also record the Buddha explicitly telling his community to chant: in the Pāsādika Sutta (DN 29), he declared that the community should "recite together, meaning with meaning and phrasing with phrasing" (atthena attham byañjanena byañjanam sangāyitabbam). Three key terms appear here: "attha," "byañjana," and "sangāyati."
"Attha" can be translated as meaning, purpose, or benefit. "Byañjana," and the more common variant "vyañjana," can be translated as phrasing, expression, or even more specifically as "letter" or "syllable." These two words often appear together in the same way we see the English phrase "the spirit and the letter" (of the law, for example). The former refers to the truths expressed by what the Buddha taught, which benefit those who understand them, while the latter refers to the formulations which the Buddha used to express those truths. "Sangāyati" means to chant or to rehearse. The Buddha even specificed seven sets of doctrinal topics that should be recited in this way, with both the meanings of these teachings and the specific formulations used for those teachings being formalized through repeated recitals. He also gave instructions for how the sangha should handle disputes that arise when monks disagree on either the meaning or the phrasing of a particular doctrine, or when they disagree on both the meaning and the phrasing. It is critical to note that the Buddha took care to distinguish these two dimensions of his teaching; elsewhere we are told that the meaning is most important (MN 103), but the Buddha's instructions clearly demonstrate that both are significant and should be preserved accurately.
Regular group recitals helped facilitate this preservation. In fact, the narrative framing for the Pāsādika Sutta explains that the Buddha gave that sermon after the monks Cunda and Ānanda brought concerns to him regarding a schism among the Jains following the death of their leader; thus, he implored his own monks to chant his teachings together as a group to ensure the accuracy and longevity of those teachings. [safeguarding against schisms, maybe mention death and first council]
Chanting, then, plays a vital role in both doctrinal and communal cohesion in Buddhism.
It seems that there were no hard rules regarding the method of chanting or recitation in the early days of the sangha. It’s reasonable to assume that the Buddha delivered his sermons in whatever way he saw fit, and the earliest disciples simply followed suit. As the sangha grew, however, variations in style must have emerged. Perhaps converts from other traditions chanted in the ways their previous teachers had taught them; as we shall see later, there is evidence that Brahmins may have brought with them the influence of their Vedic hymns. Once the sangha grew to the point that some disciples could join without having met the Buddha himself, it is possible that they would go on to recite in unorthodox ways, completely unaware of the style the Buddha and his immediate disciples would have used.
In any case, the Vinaya records that this all changed after an incident involving