On singing in church

I sing in church; that is what I do. The churches I currently sing at are Willowdale CRC in north Toronto and St Peter’s Catholic Parish in downtown Toronto. In both places I sing at the mic, by myself, to support and lead the congregation. From what I hear back, people appreciate my singing, and I rather like the focus it demands. Even when I sing solo, it is not a performance. It is never about me: it is about God’s word and actions, and how we as God’s people respond. Still, singing well in different church gives me particular satisfaction. It strengthens my conviction that things can be different than they are, and are going to be different, perhaps soon. 

Prophecy after Händel 

Singing is an expressive art form. One of the secrets to singing well is to sing notes and words for a reason, as wise choral conductors will remind their singers. When I recently sang Händel’s Messiah under Lydia Adams she did just that, and the effect on our performance was remarkable. It became very powerful, so much so that a member of the audience erupted in prophecy after the Hallelujah chorus. (To be sure, that was a surprise, but not a bad one). After a minute or two, Ms Adams signaled to the orchestra to start tuning, after which a blessed silence returned and the performance continued. 

Singing with conviction and intent is unfortunately much rarer than it ought to be, as is the silence where music can thrive and speak to the soul. Under the influence of technology, music has become commodified and personalized, as a ride on the Toronto subway quickly illustrates. Among the rumbling reigns a silence in which trying to start a conversation becomes a disturbance, if not a hostile act. Somehow it seems to be mostly the homeless and mentally challenged who rebel against this state of things. 

Deep meaning 

Not only has music become a private commodity, the meaning of words has been devalued. In his essay “Politics and the English language”, George Orwell faulted the prose producers of his time for staleness of imagery and lack of precision. “The writer either has a meaning and cannot express it, or he inadvertently says something else, or he is almost indifferent as to whether his words mean anything or not.” It seems to me that much Christian worship music of our time suffers from the same deficiencies. Thankfully, the CRC has produced an excellent hymnal, Lift Up Your Hearts. At Willowdale CRC I felt especially blessed to sing “What Feast of Love” (LUYH 96) by Delores Dufner, a Benedictine sister. 

The words we pray and sing in church carry purpose and deep meaning, and so do the melodies that support them. With careful preparation, our psalms and hymns reach across our human limitations to God’s presence and majesty. Whether or not we celebrate the Eucharist with familiar chants of victory, mercy and tenderness, as is the practice at St Peter’s, it is the Feast of Love that transforms us and to which we are all invited.