- Sometimes you need a little help from your friends. I am grateful for those voices beside and behind me that help me hit the right note at the right time, who remind me with their singing that I should have already come in by now.
- Sometimes you need to ignore the people around you and do what you know is right. (I’ve been singing in choirs since 1973, so I am not talking about YOU.) But sometimes those people around you? They’re wrong. They come in at the wrong time or sing the wrong pitch. Sometimes you just have to trust that you know what you know and ignore the rest of the noise.
- Some truth can only be sung. A colleague on Facebook regularly posts videos of him singing accompanied by his guitar. Not so very long ago his son wound up in ICU unexpectedly and then died, leaving behind a young family. My colleague continues to post his songs but now the words are imbued with a deeper, broken hearted meaning. It is a holy thing to witness his journey, knowing that sometimes grief is so deep that all you can do is sing.
- Magic still happens and sometimes we get to be a part of it. We were singing one of my favorite Christmas anthems. Something happened when we sang it in the evening service. The music took us up out of ourselves. We flowed like a river. We soared towards the tops of the arched roof, carried by notes and by spirit. It was so magical that I nearly wept in the midst of it just for the privilege and blessedness of being part of such a thing. Sometimes we take one step and step into something bigger than us, being reminded that it’s not all up to us.
- The end of the story seldom looks like the beginning and the difference between those two places depends, at least in part, on us. Our minister of music starts introducing our Christmas music to us in the post Easter lull of the spring. The more difficult anthems are usually train wrecks in our first readings. But after all of the hours of work, when we sing it before the congregation it comes pretty close to something like music. Yet too often in our lives we tend to judge ourselves only by our beginnings.
- What we focus on becomes a part of us. Two days ago we sang two Christmas concerts. This week as I started my workweek I’ve sung alleluias in the shower and a magnificat while making breakfast. After all the repetition of rehearsal the music is now woven into my bones, ready to bubble up to the surface. With inspiring music that’s a good thing. When we are meditating upon bitterness or upon all of the ways in which we have failed having such music in our bones ready to surface isn’t such a fine thing.
For all you choir members past and present, what have you learned?