An Unexpected Song

I didn’t know Ross. His funeral this evening was held in a church that he attended as a boy. His own children didn’t get to say good-bye to him; their dad died unexpectedly at age 31.  Anyone in the room could feel the grief for a life ended too soon.

In grief, when words alone fall short, we turn to song. I had expected the music for the service to be simple. I wasn’t sure how well folks would sing considering most were not active churchgoers. The family chose three hymns, favorites of the grandmother, a woman I am privileged to know. At the wise urging of a choir member just last evening, we assembled a quartet to sing “Nearer my God, to Thee” before the commendation. We had sung this before and knew a quick rehearsal was all we needed.

Here is what I did not expect tonight and I am embarrassed for not expecting it. I did not expect the amazing way a few volunteer singers carried the hope of life in the face of death.

The church I serve has a rich musical tradition but our choir is small. I had asked two folks to come for the “special music” (I use that term only to debunk it; see below) As I began the prelude, another choir member came and took her place. Then, further into the prelude, a couple who had sung in the choir for years came up to the loft. Realizing the gift of these added voices, I did something out of my box: we choose music on the spot to sing. No planning!

I was considering many factors when deciding what to sing: text, yes, but also a musical style that might speak to those who were perhaps unfamiliar with historic hymns of the church. I called out “Healer of our Every Ill” and then “You are Mine.” A trio at that point, this small but mighty choir sang boldly of “hope beyond our sorrow.”

Then, as two more joined I realized we could sing in four parts. We began “Abide with Me,” and by stanza 4, I stepped away from the piano and we were an unaccompanied sextet. We had never rehearsed and it was quite marvelous.

Yet we HAD rehearsed, time and time again. We rehearse every week to lead the song of God’s people. This choir understands that they are needed not to be some kind of “special music.” No, they are special in the gracious way they attend to all of worship, realizing that their voices carry the whole assembly. Though I strongly believe that, I didn’t teach this choir that; those who nurtured the musical life years before me instilled this in them and I get to reap the benefits.

Some days being a church musician seems completely impractical; tonight I was reminded why we who tend the church’s song keep at it. Because when we are not expecting it, others will sing their hearts out and remind us why it matters.  We learn hymns of depth and hope; we learn them deep in our bones so that when death meets us, we will be ready. And the choir will be ready, too.