It’s time again for the Festival of Lessons and Carols, happening Friday. This is my favorite musical event of the whole year. I’ve participated every year since 2011, though last year I attended all but one rehearsal and missed the performance because I was too sick to play, let alone sing.
From a performance in 2013. I’m not in this photo; the instruments were off to the right.
For today’s #WorthRevisit Wednesday, I’m revisiting December 2011, the first year I participated in Lessons and Carols. None of my kids participate anymore, but I’m still there and, if they’ll have me, I’ll continue to be there in future years. (Hey, I multitask. I play guitar AND sing alto. I’m the only guitar, but one of 6 altos this year–the alto section is nothing short of amazing. Not that I’m biased.)
One of my favorite activities in high school was the choir. We were probably about 60 strong–that’s half the school! I loved the chance to sing in harmony.
We only had 3-part harmony (soprano, second soprano, alto) since my high school was not coed. I was a second soprano, but over the years I’ve migrated to alto. (And I’m not above throwing in a tenor or baritone part now and again, just for the fun of it.) I do not harbor any illusions of having a solo-quality voice, but I do just fine in a group and I can sustain a harmony line without being near anyone else who’s singing that same part.
Right now, I’m thoroughly enjoying a chance to stretch my musical muscles. Over at the school parish, preparations are under way for a Festival of Lessons and Carols, scheduled for the Tuesday before Christmas. It’s a mixed group in many ways. First of all, we’ve got soprano, alto, tenor and bass–and a children’s chorus. WOW! It’s amazing to be part of creating that wonderful sound. We’re coming from at least 4 different parishes and at least as many different choirs/ensembles. There are kids (as young as second grade), teens, college students, young adults, parents with kids of all ages, and empty-nesters.
Soon, we’re bringing in the musical instruments! And we all come together to make music. Christmas music is wonderful, and there is a huge repertoire of beautiful Christmas music out there. As a musician at church, though, I’m pretty much limited to standard carols. And that’s fine–people attending Mass during the Christmas season expect, and should find, those old familiar carols. It makes things easy when people visit from other parishes, other traditions, or just haven’t been to church in a while. When we play and sing at Mass, we’re there to lead people in prayer through song, not to perform for them.
This Festival of Lessons and Carols is a combination of Scripture readings and beautiful music, most of which is not your standard carol. It’s a performance, but don’t think for a moment that it is not also worship.
Last year Big Brother played bass at this Festival. The rest of us came along to be part of the audience. I loved it and was thrilled to be asked to take part this year (along with Little Brother and Big Brother, who will participate again).
That whole “singing is praying twice” thing? For me, it’s completely true.
I love that we pray before we rehearse, thanking God for the gift of music, for the opportunity to share that gift and to give God honor and glory by using that gift. (That’s the gist of the prayer; the music director does a better job phrasing it than I just did).
And I love being a small part of this large group. Some people in the group are like me, with ordinary musical skills. Others are incredibly gifted. When I sing with them, I am challenged beyond what I think I am capable of doing.
Great joy!
I’m linking up with Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for #WorthRevisit Wednesday, a place where you can come and bring a past & treasured post to share, and link up with fellow bloggers!
When I saw that the theme for this week was “Less of Me” I knew which post I had to revisit. I reached back 9 years into the archives for this one.
This used to be part of the homemade hymnal at Our Lady of the Flower Children*:
Less of Me
Let me be a little kinder, let me be a little blinder To the faults of those about me; let me praise a little more Let me be when I am weary just a little bit more cheery Think a little more of others and little less of me
Let me be a little braver when temptations let me waver Let me strive a little harder to be all that I should be Let me be a little meeker with a brother that is weaker Let me think more of my neighbors and a little less of me
Let me be when I am weary just a little bit more cheery Let me serve a little better those that I am striving for Let me be a little meeker to a brother that is weaker Think a little more of others and a little less of me.
I’m not sure of the composer but I think it might be Glen Campbell.
Regardless of who wrote it, it’s a good reminder of what we all can do for Lent. I can’t help but think that the memory of this song was a gift–a reminder from the Lord of what I can and should be doing.
Turns out it is Glen Cambell’s song! I found a video of him performing it with Judy Collins and Hamilton Camp. So here you go–a blast from the past. I think this song makes a wonderful prayer.
Today’s Ponder Point:
Music can touch the heart and soul in a powerful way. What hymn or song has touched your heart and soul this Lent? What lesson does that song teach you?
*The real name of the church was not “Our Lady of the Flower Children.” But it was the late 60s and early 70s, and we went to the Children’s Mass where we sat on folding chairs in the church basement, and, well, you know the rest. The music made a huge impression on me and, I believe, is a very real part of the reason I’m a musician at church today.
I’ve been a musician and singer in church since I was 15. Suffice to say that I’ve been at it for more than 2/3 of my life, even without counting the part where I was a cantor for the responsorial psalm and prayer of the faithful in middle school.
The very first church where I participated as a music minister: St. Bonaventure in Paterson, NJ.
I’ve never been afraid to lift up my voice and sing in church. Now, I’m by no means a solo-quality singer, but I’m happy to blend in with a group (and ecstatic if I get to sing the harmony part.) So even if I’m in the pew instead of in the choir or ensemble, I’m going to sing.
It’s been my pleasure and privilege, for thirty-mumble years, to sing and play in quite a number of folk groups, choirs and ensembles. I’ve seen (and heard) the good, the bad, and the ugly–both while playing and singing and while sitting as part of the assembly.
Jane the Actuary at Patheos Catholic wonders how to get people in the assembly to participate by singing. It’s simple, really. In my experience, people will sing unless they are discouraged from doing so.
How can choirs and musicians show that they don’t want the assembly to sing?
Play the song in a key that’s out of reach for all except the deepest bass or highest soprano
Don’t announce the number of the song in the hymnal
Announce the number of the song, but tell the congregation that they’re invited to sing during the refrain only
Choose music that is not in the hymnal
Sing the hymn in a language other than what’s in the hymnal or spoken in the community (Latin being the exception here)
Use a different arrangement of a familiar hymn
Sing familiar hymns whose words have been changed by politically-correct hymnal publishers
Sing the hymn in madrigal style so that the assembly can’t find the melody
Don’t provide a hymnal or worship aid, or leave all the hymnals stacked on the outer edges of 12-seat pews, so that people who forget to grab one on their way to sit down never get one later
Sing with so much technical perfection that you intimidate everyone in the pews
I have seen all of these happen in my long tenure as a musician. And there’s no excuse for any of them.
Finally, this is the story of the Music Director Who Caused a Mutiny. During my junior year in college, the music department hired a graduate student to direct the folk group. The position was usually a volunteer one, held by an undergrad music student in the folk group–but they all graduated. We learned a lot of new music that year, which is always good, but most of it wasn’t in the hymnal, which is usually bad. When we spoke up to the director about the probability that people in the pews would be discouraged from singing, her response was, “You’re performing for God.”
Well, no. We were not performing for God. We weren’t performing for Father, either, nor for the congregation. We were there to lead people in sung prayer, not to put on a show for anyone (even God.)
Our director only showed up at one of the two Masses the folk group played. My friends and I took turns leading the music at the other Mass, and if music that wasn’t in the hymnal was chosen, we’d replace it during the Mass when we were on our own.
When our parish merged with a neighboring one in 2008, we were told that people at the other church didn’t sing. Indeed, many of them expressed surprise at the level of participation in our original parish. But guess what? It’s gotten better! With encouragement, people will sing. Even if they’re Catholic.
I said YES to grace this week. I was thinking, Tuesday morning, that I really need to make a way to get to Adoration. We have Perpetual Adoration in our parish–and I’ve been ignoring the opportunity. On my way out of Mass Tuesday, the lady who organizes the schedule for Adoration approached me and asked if I could take over an hour for someone who is ailing and unable to attend anymore. I think it took a whole 2 hours, if that, from the time I originally had the thought of Adoration in my head to the time Pat spoke to me in the church foyer. I start today.
I learned a new song this week. Our folk group is preparing to teach Matt Maher’s “Your Grace is Enough” to the assembly at Mass before the end of Lent. It’s a perfect song to meditate on during Lent (or any time, really.) And I figured out how to download the MP3 to my phone so I can have it with me everywhere. Give it a listen:
And in more practical matters, I came in under budget this week at the supermarket. By shopping the sales and using coupons, I saved $105.44 on my order, paying only $116.78. AND because I bought some stuff in the Dollar Days sale, I walked out of there with $7 in coupons off my next shopping order AND a coupon for a free reusable shopping bag. (WIN!) I buy supermarket gift cards through Little Brother’s school (we get a tuition kickback for that) and it does help me to stay on budget. Since I buy the gift cards every 2 weeks, I’m under budget about $16 for the 2-week period. Just in time for Middle Sister to come home for Spring Break and stock up on laundry detergent, Gatorade, granola bars and other staples of dormitory life.
A big part of the Transfiguration story is the reaction of Peter, James and John, who were Jesus’ companions on the mountain that day.
James and John were not called the Sons of Thunder for nothing, by the way.
The song “So Good to be Here” from Marty Haugen’s cantata Song of Mark is an excellent portrayal of their characters. The tune reminds me of circus music, which fits in perfectly with the atmosphere they wanted to create by building tents and staying there forever. When I listen to this song, I picture these big guys drinking a toast to their plan to stick around the mountain with their buddy, Jesus.
It was good for them to be there, but the message of the Transfiguration is that you need to get ready to leave that isolated place and take the message of Jesus wherever you go.
Three years ago, my children and I participated in a performance of Song of Mark. It was good to be there–an incredible opportunity to perform with amazingly talented musicians and vocalists. Watch, if you like–and think about the Transfiguration.
It’s Easter vacation, so everybody’s home (including Hubs) and I am trying very hard to just go with the flow here. Sometimes that means I get to be a little bit lazy too. That part is easy. Other times it means I try to say “yes” to those last-minute schedule changes that everyone else in the house come up with. My first response is still usually “no” but if I have 15 minutes to think about it, I can generally get to “yes.”
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Easter Sunday Mass was a wonderful celebration. We had so many people show up for the folk group that we ran out of chairs for everyone in the choir area. That’s the best problem to have! We sang our hearts out. We celebrated. After both the prelude (“Tell It Out”) and the responsorial psalm (“This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad”) a little kid somewhere in church yelled, “YAY!” It was sweet, and I think it broke the ice a little bit. Mass was super-crowded, with plenty of kids, and everyone was there in their Easter best and probably feeling a bit stiff. That kid gave everyone a chance to chuckle and relax a little, and there was plenty of smiling and people joining in the singing. And that’s what it’s all about: sing once, pray twice.
After Mass there was plenty of joking among the folk group members that we should hire that child to come to our Mass every Sunday and cheer for us.
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I’ve been cooking, which I love to do! Here are the latest recipes I’ve gotten up on the cooking blog:
This morning I received an email with the music selections for Sunday Mass. We’ll be rehearsing tonight.
Here’s the list:
Prelude: You Alone
Gathering: River of Glory
Responsorial Psalm: I Will Praise Your Name
Preparation: You Are Mine
Communion: On Eagle’s Wings
Sending Forth: Go In Peace
I’ve been singing Go In Peace in my head for the past two hours. And I think we’ll have to bring a box of tissues to Mass on Sunday.
Just about 6 months ago, a longtime friend passed away after a long and difficult battle with cancer. I’d known PJ since Big Brother was around a year old; at the time, I had a fledgling folk group at the 9:30 Mass and he brought his guitar, his voice and his commitment to choosing the best music available in a hymnal packed with questionable choices. Those were the Glory and Praise days. PJ played at the 9:30 and then came back at noon to play with the other folk group–the group I have since joined. PJ was also stage manager for Little Brother’s first community-theater production, a stage-crew mentor for Middle Sister, and a participant in an Advent Lessons and Carols event at another parish. In a way, PJ connected several of my worlds–and my kids’ worlds.
PJ had requested that our folk group sing at his funeral Mass. We invited some friends from Lessons and Carols to sing with us, and choosing the music became a group effort. The choir’s seating area was filled to overflowing with PJ’s friends who had sung with him in several different parishes as well as in high school and at the theater. One friend in that group suggested that we learn Go In Peace, to be sung after the blessing of the casket. It very nearly did us all in. But it was perfect.
I’d read in the bulletin the other day that this Sunday’s Mass is for PJ. So when I got the list above, I emailed the folk group leader to ask if she’d known that.
She answered that she didn’t, and added “Makes you wonder who else might have a hand in choosing music.”
She and I have discussed that before. There are times when the homily is finished and we launch into an Offertory song (or Presentation, or Preparation, or whatever it is we’re supposed to call it now…I can never keep track)–a song that absolutely connects with the homily–and we just look at each other in amazement. Both of us have had enough years of experience selecting music for Mass to know that the Holy Spirit sits in on the selection committee more often than not.
This Sunday, PJ will be remembered in a special way: not only in prayer, but in sung prayer. That’s fitting for someone who dedicated much of his time, energy and considerable talent to helping others pray through liturgical music.
There’s a little girl whose parents bring her and her baby brother to the 12:00 Mass every Sunday. They’ve started sitting near the folk group, and she keeps her eyes firmly on the musicians.
One recent Sunday, she escaped from the pew during Communion and her mom had to chase her as she ran up to the altar. After that Mass, a bunch of us told her embarrassed parents that they shouldn’t worry about it, and that they shouldn’t stop bringing her to Mass. It would get better. We’re all parents too, and we’ve had our share of embarrassing kids-in-church moments.
Yesterday, there they were, in their usual spot. But the little girl did not arrive at church empty-handed. Besides her little pink purse, she had a tiny pink gig bag. Her dad placed it carefully at the edge of the pew. It looked like a very, very small guitar case, and we all whispered to each other before Mass that the little girl was here and that she’d brought her own guitar.
Of course, we were completely charmed by that idea. I was wondering how long it would take for her to break out the guitar and abandon her parents in the pew for the folk group across the aisle.
She left her gig bag alone during Mass (amazingly) but afterwards her dad helped her unzip it, to reveal the cutest little pink ukelele. She let Little Brother try to play it.
More than just a cute and sweet moment, though, this tells me something: despite the liturgical-music snobbery that “folk-groupies” like myself often encounter, what we do has the power to touch lives. That little girl, no more than three years old, clearly wanted to play music in church. She sees us do that, she likes it, and she wants to do the same.
Church music doesn’t have to be written before the turn of the 20th century to be inspiring. There’s a little girl in our parish who has found herself inspired by the music we play each Sunday. It’s not everyone’s favorite, but it has touched her heart. I hope that in a few years, this little girl finds that she has a musical gift, and looks for a way to use that gift to honor God and serve others.
I love Christmas carols–always have. If you ask me to choose my top 3, it’s an easy choice: “O Holy Night,” “Silent Night,” and “The Little Drummer Boy.”
That last one hardly fits into the category of “traditional Christmas carols,” but I can’t help it. That song makes me cry every time–always has. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to sing the line, “I played my best for him” without choking up.
The Little Drummer Boy gets it right. He brings his gift–not something that can be opened, but his talent–and he gives his best effort to honor the newborn King. As a musician, it’s what I try to do, Sunday after Sunday. And I love that after the Little Drummer Boy offers his humble gift, Baby Jesus smiles at him.
Pass me a tissue, please.
Why would I choose bongo drums to illustrate this post? In art, the Little Drummer Boy is always pictured with a snare, sometimes slung around his neck, and drumsticks in his hands.
But my Little Drummer Boy (AKA Little Brother) has bongo drums. We sang “The Little Drummer Boy” on Tuesday at church and will do so again today. (It’s not “orthodox;” it’s not in the hymnal, but it’s better theology than a bunch of what is in there.) Little Brother has learned to play the song on his drums. On Tuesday he knelt beside the guitarists and nailed that drum part, even meriting a thumbs-up from Bill, a former drummer who’s very particular about how percussion is played.
I love that my kids have had the opportunity to offer their musical gifts in worship, to play their best–even when they’re beginners musically. I teared up on Tuesday when my Little Drummer Boy played his best, right alongside me. And it’s pretty much a given that I’ll cry again today.
Alleluia, He is risen! We sang all about it yesterday. And it was wonderful.
Our parish schedules an extra Mass on Easter to accommodate the expected crowds. The rest of the schedule is shuffled a bit so that the larger of the two church buildings has the majority of Masses, which makes sense, because you need to fit more people. Our folk group was playing at the little church at 10 AM. There hasn’t been a 10 AM Mass at the little church in almost 4 years. So I was a little curious about how well-attended it would be. Would people forget? After all, my husband would have headed over to the big church if I hadn’t reminded him that we were singing at the little church. He’d have found a Mass there too, because both churches had a 10:00–but he wouldn’t have found us.
It was a full house–and more–in the choir area, because it was a full house–and more–in the church. My husband and mother-in-law couldn’t get seats in the pews, so they sat with us. So did Big Brother, who didn’t have a guitar at home to play (and regretted that, at the last minute). Middle Sister was serving, of course. The folk group showed up in force, except for one member who was visiting faraway family. Best problem in the world to have: not enough seating for all the musicians and singers. Fortunately, our church has these great “window seats” in the choir area. At least 10 people had to use them; all 15 chairs were taken.
And we made our joyful noise. It feels SO GOOD to lift your voice in “Alleluia” and “Glory to God” after all this time. This group has a long tradition of singing “All Good Gifts” on Easter (the Godspell version) and though you might think of it as better suited to Thanksgiving, it works for Easter so well: Easter Mass is all about celebrating, and thanking God, for the enormous and extravagant gift of love, shown through Jesus and His sacrifice.
Even better, we were permitted to sing our very favorite piece: the Lord’s Prayer. It’s a hallmark of our group, but one that we were asked to stop singing when the parishes merged. A couple of times during Lent, the pastor (who asked us not to sing it anymore) allowed us to sing it. People love it. It’s right up there with “Amazing Grace” in the Raise the Roof and Sing Along Factor. And our associate pastor loves it, because it eliminates the whole “barrel through the Lord’s Prayer” thing that is his personal pet peeve.
Our associate pastor has been stationed here for more than 7 years, and I think I’ve seen him actually sing maybe twice in all that time. Yesterday, he sang along with the Lord’s Prayer too.
When we finish the Lord’s Prayer, we all get the same feeling: we have Been To Church. We have PRAISED.
I got a big basket full of chocolate and sugar for Easter, but the music was definitely a better gift, because it helps me remember the greatest gift.
