Why We Sing Sun, 15th December, 2013
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation. I hear the clear, though faroff hymn that hails a new creation." These opening words of a popular hymn give voice to my thoughts this morning.
My experiences this weekend have sharpened my sense of how important music—and in particularly choral singing—is in my life. Yesterday in particular, two seemingly unrelated events came a few hours apart and only while reflecting this morning did I discover the silver thread that connects the two.
The first was a moving memorial service celebrating the life of Jan Good, a friend of my wife's who passed from this life much too young. On the way into the church I heard the bells ringing and the music never stopped throughout the thoughtfully planned service. The voices of Jan's fellow congregants joined together to sing her on her way, to celebrate her life and provide time for those in attendance to quiet themselves and reflect.
Then in what seemed like a completely different experience, I raised my own voice in song with 60-some other men as our Gateway Men's Chorus performed our annual holiday concert. It felt incongruous at first to go from the memorial service to a sometimes raucous and irreverent romp through the standard holiday lit. But perhaps not.
The silver thread that binds these two experiences and so many more like them are that music, and the human voice in particular, is an expression of community in its most intimate form. When people come together to make music, it is a deliberate act of faith: faith in our ability to make beauty where there is ugliness, to assert hope in the face of loss, to join hands and hearts where there is deep loneliness and alienation. Voices joined in song is an ancient expression of humanity that seems fundamental to our very existence. After all, we sing at weddings, at funerals, at birthday parties, at worship services and at Cardinals games…And in this season, many of us sing together around the Christmas tree and the menorah.
It's not surprising that most choral groups I've ever sung with feel much more like a family than with any other group activity. The men's chorus, especially for me at this time in my life, provides a powerful sense of community for which I'm deeply grateful. Just when you think it's all frivolity, moments of profound beauty rise up and wrap you in a warm embrace. One man, before the first concert Friday night, stood before the group and shared his gratitude for the sense of family that he has felt in this group, and how that support was critical for him as he struggled through a difficult period in his life. Another member, after suffering through a recent tragedy, shared these words: "Sometimes I forget that I am loved. Today I felt loved by my friends and family. Also when I walked onto the stage to a round of applause and a string of hugs from my Gateway Men's Chorus brothers (and sisters)."
And that's it, really. Singing is how we say I love you to the universe, to life, and to each other. May it ever be so.
"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation. I hear the clear, though faroff hymn that hails a new creation." These opening words of a popular hymn give voice to my thoughts this morning.
My experiences this weekend have sharpened my sense of how important music—and in particularly choral singing—is in my life. Yesterday in particular, two seemingly unrelated events came a few hours apart and only while reflecting this morning did I discover the silver thread that connects the two.
The first was a moving memorial service celebrating the life of Jan Good, a friend of my wife's who passed from this life much too young. On the way into the church I heard the bells ringing and the music never stopped throughout the thoughtfully planned service. The voices of Jan's fellow congregants joined together to sing her on her way, to celebrate her life and provide time for those in attendance to quiet themselves and reflect.
Then in what seemed like a completely different experience, I raised my own voice in song with 60-some other men as our Gateway Men's Chorus performed our annual holiday concert. It felt incongruous at first to go from the memorial service to a sometimes raucous and irreverent romp through the standard holiday lit. But perhaps not.
The silver thread that binds these two experiences and so many more like them are that music, and the human voice in particular, is an expression of community in its most intimate form. When people come together to make music, it is a deliberate act of faith: faith in our ability to make beauty where there is ugliness, to assert hope in the face of loss, to join hands and hearts where there is deep loneliness and alienation. Voices joined in song is an ancient expression of humanity that seems fundamental to our very existence. After all, we sing at weddings, at funerals, at birthday parties, at worship services and at Cardinals games…And in this season, many of us sing together around the Christmas tree and the menorah.
It's not surprising that most choral groups I've ever sung with feel much more like a family than with any other group activity. The men's chorus, especially for me at this time in my life, provides a powerful sense of community for which I'm deeply grateful. Just when you think it's all frivolity, moments of profound beauty rise up and wrap you in a warm embrace. One man, before the first concert Friday night, stood before the group and shared his gratitude for the sense of family that he has felt in this group, and how that support was critical for him as he struggled through a difficult period in his life. Another member, after suffering through a recent tragedy, shared these words: "Sometimes I forget that I am loved. Today I felt loved by my friends and family. Also when I walked onto the stage to a round of applause and a string of hugs from my Gateway Men's Chorus brothers (and sisters)."
And that's it, really. Singing is how we say I love you to the universe, to life, and to each other. May it ever be so.
