Chanting and ritual in Chan practice weave a living tapestry that goes beyond silent meditation. Imagine sitting down for a movie without a soundtrack—the visuals might be there, but something’s missing. In Chan, ritual and chant provide that musical score, guiding attention, stirring the heart, and planting each moment firmly in the here and now.

At the most basic level, chanting sutras like the Heart Sutra or the Diamond Sutra helps settle a scattered mind. Repeating phrases—sometimes in Classical Chinese—acts like a mental anchor, syncing breath and awareness. Even if the words feel foreign at first, the rhythm carries one across busy thoughts, much like a gentle current steering a boat back on course.

Ritual gestures—bowing, offering incense, lighting candles—aren’t empty theatrics. Each movement is a physical reminder of humility, interconnection, and gratitude. When hands fold in gassho (palms pressed together), it’s a silent “thank you” to the lineage stretching back to Bodhidharma, and a vow to live with integrity. In today’s fast-paced world, that simple act of slowing down can feel revolutionary.

The communal aspect shouldn’t be overlooked. Chanting together—whether in a centuries-old mountain monastery or via a livestreamed session at a city Zen center—builds solidarity. During recent online retreats, dozens found unexpected comfort in hearing hundreds of voices resonate in unison, even through screens. It underscores that Chan isn’t only a solitary trek but a shared journey.

On festival days like Ullambana or Buddha’s Enlightenment Day, rituals also mark the turning of the seasons and life’s big milestones. They act like spiritual pit stops, offering a moment to refuel devotion, reflect on impermanence, and step back onto the meditation cushion with renewed clarity. By blending silence and song, stillness and ceremony, Chan crafts a balanced path—proof that sometimes the best way to sit in the present is to let ritual and chant light the way.