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This morning we had a joyous service at church, celebrating our 199th Anniversary. There is always lots of congregational singing throughout worship and it has been really great to hear the congregational choir’s voice growing in sound and confidence since I began my ministry at The Park almost a year and half ago.
As is the norm, I work with the pastor to select service music, get those selections into the order of worship and then prepare the hymns and responses on the organ, piano or sometimes with percussion, as we regularly draw music from the world church. Many factors go into selecting music for a service: connection to the scripture texts and preaching focus, familiarity to the congregation, or occasionally a desire to expand our repertoire and introduce a wonderful new text or tune. This week I was also highly aware of the time constraints of worship, with a special luncheon and other events afterward. So, I selected a rousing closing hymn that the congregation really loves, In the Midst of New Dimensions, which appears in both of the hymnals our congregation sings out of, the New Century Hymnal and the Chalice Hymnal. A confession: the other hymns in the service were longish (a five-verse opener and a four-verse middle hymn) so I selected the version out of the Chalice Hymnal, as it’s one verse shorter. But what I didn’t realize is that the tune has some rhythmic variants and the refrain is lacking a repetition that is in the New Century Version.
So we got to the end of a wonderful, uplifting service and I launched into the hymn (playing out of the New Century Hymnal because the harmonization is better) with a nice full registration. Halfway through I noticed that the congregation and choir were off by a few beats and when we sang the refrain, I was still playing while everyone had stopped. In a moment of panic, I realized that there were two versions of the hymn, so I came to the final cadence, turned around and announced, “I apologize. I made a mistake.” There was a ripple of relieved laughter from the congregation. Then I directed folks to the number in the New Century Hymnal and off we went through a verse together.
About that point I wanted to crawl into a cave and not come out. It was an embarrassing moment, especially as I’m a person who cares a lot about getting things right. I’ve typed the wrong hymn number into the bulletin before (and the secretary usually gets those mistakes) but I felt that I should have looked at the version I selected more carefully and noticed the differences. I am a trained musician after all! But strangely, as I spoke with people after the service they said that they really appreciated the honesty of that moment. Instead of carrying on as if nothing had happened, I acknowledged that something was wrong and we started over. One visitor even said that the mistake made her feel that this is the kind of congregation that she would be comfortable in – where there is a space for imperfection.
And I suppose that’s the take away from this morning. As much as folks in the church (and outside the church) like to project an image of having it together, of confidence and skill, we are human. We make mistakes, we forget important details, the flowers are a little crooked, the paraments are a bit wrinkled, words get misspelled or mispronounced, a singer in the choir misses a cut-off. Thankfully church isn’t about getting it right but it’s a place where we can be ourselves, where there is the grace to start over again if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, where we can celebrate that we are fully-loved, imperfectly beautiful people. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t strive for our best or be sloppy (you can believe that I’ll be examining every hymn closely over the next months!) but that when mistakes and imperfections do happen, we can approach them in a spirit of grace and love, with a relieved laugh, and thank God that we’re not perfect and neither is anyone else. Thanks be to God!
I’ve been teaching a small group singing class at church over the past weeks and it has been a joy. The experience is geared toward individuals who simply want to improve their singing voice, not for folks who aspire to be professional singers. This is the third time I’ve presented a class like this and each time I am humbled by the opportunity and reminded just how important it is.
Some folks have been told again and again, or have been telling themselves again and again, that they can’t sing. In the class, we try to dispel the myths that we have chosen to believe about our voice and unpack the fears and doubts that may keep us from singing with others. Each week we reaffirm that everyone has the ability to sing and it really matters if we do or don’t. We also talk about our experiences as singers, about the sort of feedback and critique we have received about our voice as children and adults. Sometimes this involves acknowledging the wounds and bruises that have been inflicted on us by parents, spouses/children, teachers and folks in the church. But it also involves moving beyond those hurts and trusting that God calls us good (and calls our voice good) and that, like any other human activity, singing is something that we can learn to do better with time and practice.
And so that’s what we do. We sing hymns, spiritual and chants that are learned by rote. We talk about breathing and learn about how to tap into it; we talk about the vocal cords, vowels and the mechanics of the voice and practice vocalizes that help build an awareness of the tongue and throat. And we talk about little details like how to hold a hymnal or a songbook when singing. And there are one-on-one sessions with individuals who want to work a little more, who seem to be struggling, or who really want and need to tell you about their joys and struggles as a singer. In it all, I am reminded just how personal and how precious the voice is, and how deeply connected it is to other parts of our life. As Helen Kemp quips, “body, mind, spirit, voice – it takes a whole person to sing and rejoice.” It is a truly holistic activity and teaching singing, especially to those who have been told that they cannot, is a pastoral activity for me, something that gives me a deep sense of fulfillment and of purpose.
Park Avenue Christian is blessed to have Alice Parker and singers from Melodious Accord recording sacred choral music in our sanctuary this week. It is such a gift to have your work day full of beautiful melodies, and Alice’s settings of hymns and spirituals are always so thoughtful and well-written, with great attentiveness to the color and character of the text.
The piece that is running through my head this morning is an elegant versification of Psalm 23, “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need,” from her Eight Appalachian Mountain Hymns. I am busy, busy, busy these next two weeks, especially with many details before I head to Italy in early June, where I will be participating in a workshop of a new piece based on paintings of Mary, Jesus’ mother (more about that soon.) While listening to this hymn (especially the last stanza), I was reminded that I can see all of these things to do as work or I can see them as an occasion to praise. Even in the minute and sometimes infuriating details, I can thank the God who has given the gift of life and who sustains and tends to me always and everywhere.
And as work emerges out of a spirit of praise and thanksgiving it can and will reorient and redefine my priorities, values, and time frame. So that, even in the midst of many important and time-consuming tasks, I will find the rest and security of a beloved child of God. Then the work can flow because my being is focused on faithfulness to God rather than overwhelmed by the tasks at hand, or bound up by perfectionism or fear of failure. I will know what and how to do because I have taken to time to be.
My Shepherd will supply my need:
Jehovah is His Name;
In pastures fresh He makes me feed,
Beside the living stream.
He brings my wandering spirit back
When I forsake His ways,
And leads me, for His mercy’s sake,
In paths of truth and grace.
When I walk through the shades of death
Thy presence is my stay;
One word of Thy supporting breath
Drives all my fears away.
Thy hand, in sight of all my foes,
Doth still my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
Thine oil anoints my head.
The sure provisions of my God
Attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be my abode,
And all my work be praise.
There would I find a settled rest,
While others go and come;
No more a stranger, nor a guest,
But like a child at home.
-Issac Watts
