Last week, I ventured out to something new. I'm not good at new, especially when there are people involved, but I've found over the last few months in particular that the benefits of trying something new usually outweigh the costs, so I took a deep breath and was Very Brave. I must admit, I felt a Bit More Brave when I discovered that a lovely friend was also planning on going. The something new in question was We Who Sing Pray Twice, an evening of singing and silence at Whirlow Spirituality Centre here in Sheffield. During the session, we learned three simple four-part chants and then sang them together in the chapel there, which has rather good acoustics. Here's one that we learned:
It's been a very long time since I sang anything like this. I think I was about 16 or 17. It's difficult to describe the effect the singing of these songs had on me. There was something of God residing in the combination of those four parts, and to be in the middle of the sound - to be a part of the sound - was a very profound thing, especially for a lover of harmony (that's me I'm talking about). There was a sense of holy joy which stayed with me for a long time after I came home that night, and I suspect that there was more to it than the effects of communal singing-related endorphins.
I've been thinking about it all week.
I've been thinking about how words are not very important. Not as important as we often think they are, anyway. All of the songs we sang were very simple. We sang the same (mostly Latin) lines over and over again, and it didn't get boring, or feel tedious or shallow. On the contrary, the repetition provided time and space for depth of meditation. The worship was as much in the harmonious sound as in the lyrics, and we didn't need bridges or tags, or any of those fancy things that we get used to thinking of as essential ('or how will the Holy Spirit know when to come?!').
I've also been thinking about how words are really important. I have to admit that I find the current crop of popular worship songs emotionally soggy and overwrought, as well as fairly 'me-centric'. As such, for me to sing such lyrics feels odd, and somewhat disingenuous. I feel like I'm singing someone else's song. Frankly, as someone with an emotionally soggy, overwrought inner life, it's helpful to sing songs which encourage meditative reflection, at least to begin with. When my inner world is given the chance to calm down, I can worship.
Finally, I've been thinking about how I saw a balance of the vertical and the horizontal in the singing of these songs. We were singing to God, yes (that's the vertical), but this type of song is meant for communal singing (that bit's the - well, I really hope you've figured it out): the fact that there are four parts means that you need to sing with, and depend on others, to fully realise the songwriter's original vision. Each part is equally important, and the success of the whole relies on the willingness of the participants to co-operate. And while the melody on its own sounds beautiful, harmonies are a reminder that while we can survive by ourselves in life, we were made to thrive with, and value, others. That's the antedote to the 'me-centric'.
What helps you to participate in gathered worship? What do you struggle with? What would you like the opportunity to try? Would you rather not sing at all? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
I've been thinking about it all week.
I've been thinking about how words are not very important. Not as important as we often think they are, anyway. All of the songs we sang were very simple. We sang the same (mostly Latin) lines over and over again, and it didn't get boring, or feel tedious or shallow. On the contrary, the repetition provided time and space for depth of meditation. The worship was as much in the harmonious sound as in the lyrics, and we didn't need bridges or tags, or any of those fancy things that we get used to thinking of as essential ('or how will the Holy Spirit know when to come?!').
I've also been thinking about how words are really important. I have to admit that I find the current crop of popular worship songs emotionally soggy and overwrought, as well as fairly 'me-centric'. As such, for me to sing such lyrics feels odd, and somewhat disingenuous. I feel like I'm singing someone else's song. Frankly, as someone with an emotionally soggy, overwrought inner life, it's helpful to sing songs which encourage meditative reflection, at least to begin with. When my inner world is given the chance to calm down, I can worship.
Finally, I've been thinking about how I saw a balance of the vertical and the horizontal in the singing of these songs. We were singing to God, yes (that's the vertical), but this type of song is meant for communal singing (that bit's the - well, I really hope you've figured it out): the fact that there are four parts means that you need to sing with, and depend on others, to fully realise the songwriter's original vision. Each part is equally important, and the success of the whole relies on the willingness of the participants to co-operate. And while the melody on its own sounds beautiful, harmonies are a reminder that while we can survive by ourselves in life, we were made to thrive with, and value, others. That's the antedote to the 'me-centric'.
What helps you to participate in gathered worship? What do you struggle with? What would you like the opportunity to try? Would you rather not sing at all? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
