Sunday, March 13, 2016

Musings on Music, Diversity and Parenting

“Mom, why are they wearing those things on their heads?” We were sitting in the outside courtyard of a medical center, watching people walk the halls on a busy Friday afternoon. My husband was making a pastoral call, so the three kids and I had time to eat over-priced snacks from the lobby’s Starbucks. My son’s observation drove home a great concern of mine, the fact that my children are growing up in quite monolithic culture in central Pennsylvania. While they regularly see Mennonite women in white caps, they rarely Muslim women in hijab.

I have read them books with diverse characters and exposed them to diverse music. My almost ten year old shows a budding love of history. He likes to throw out brutally honest statements like, “whoever created slavery is so stupid!” Even more these days, he shows an increased curiosity about politics and what people believe. This is beginning to lead us to some substantial conversations about race, economics and gender.

Last night I was reminded that music can be such a powerful way to open all of us to necessary conversations. The Susquehanna Valley Chorale presented “Let My People Go,” A story of the Underground Railroad presented through song and narration. We sat in the second row, close enough to see the sweat on the brows of the narrators. The renditions of the classic African American Spirituals moved the audience to rousing applause. The soprano soloist enveloped us in sounds like my children have never heard.

Following the concert, I was waiting for a question they never asked: “Mom, why are all the soloists black and the choir almost all white? And why is the audience 95% or more white?” They talked about how they liked the music and the soloists and that was the extent of it. The questions may not have surfaced then, but I marvel at the power of art to convey the truths we must hear: truths of suffering and hope, slavery and freedom. What seeds could have been planted, what sparks for their imagination? When they sing “Go Down, Moses” at this year’s Easter Vigil, will they hear it in a new way?

Taking the boys to this concert reminded me of how important it is to talk about race and culture with our children. I need to do a better job. Yet I can continue to expose them to art that tells the stories we need to hear, stories so easily forgotten by those privileged enough to forget them. Especially in this volatile political climate, I need to go out of my way to show and tell about the love of a gracious God, the extravagant, merciful love that calls us to love our neighbors, pray for our enemies and work for justice. 








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