LOS ANGELES — With eyes closed and a small mallet in hand, the Rev. Kyohei Mikawa gently struck the bronze Himalayan singing bowl resting in his palm and bathed the Buddhist sanctuary in a resonant hum.
Mikawa spent the next 45 minutes skimming bowls, playing a tongue drum and chanting to create an immersive experience called a sound bath as he sat facing a dozen people relaxing or meditating on yoga mats.
Sometimes known as sound healing or sound meditation, sound baths have surged in popularity over the past decade, driven by growing public interest in mental health and wellness. But sound baths are no longer confined to yoga centers, crystal healing studios or other new age spaces. They have crossed over to mainstream worship spaces, including churches, temples and synagogues.
Faith leaders like Mikawa, who oversees Rissho Kosei Kai Buddhist Center in Los Angeles' largely Latino neighborhood of Boyle Heights, are increasingly embracing sound baths. They see it as a way to reach out to their neighbors who may not be affiliated with a religion, but still want to be in community with others seeking spiritual experiences. They have also found ways to make this practice mesh with their respective faith traditions.
Adding religious practice to sound baths
The sounds that punctuated Mikawa's session emanated from centuries of Buddhist tradition and practice, energizing and calming the mind at once, he said. A chant at the end of the sound bath, he said, means: ''Seek refuge in the true spirit of who you are.''
''The goal is not to become a Buddhist, but a Buddha — the best version of who we are,'' he said.
Rabbi Jonathan Aaron, who leads Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills, a Reform synagogue, performs a sound bath the first Saturday of each month at the end of the Shabbat service, during a ceremony called the Havdalah. As part of this ritual, blessings are offered over wine, sweet spices and a multi-wicked candle while participants reflect on the difference between the sacred and the ordinary.