Category: Music

The Silver Lining

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This weekend was the semi-annual Cub Scout Babka Sale.  It’s a LOT of work, especially for Mr. Cubmaster, who drives all the way to Elizabeth (about 90 miles each way) to get the babka, then shuttles it between 2 churches to cover the 4 Masses for the weekend.

It was a whole lot of EXTRA work this weekend because of all the no-shows.  At two of the four Masses, Little Brother was the only Scout there.  Only one other Scout leader was there all weekend.  The pack didn’t make much money this year, because we had 26 babka left over (usually we sell out, but people don’t want to wait in line, so the key is to have lots of little salespeople to keep things moving.)

I got a distress call from TheDad (Mr. Cubmaster) at 8:30, telling me that no one else had shown up at the 8:00 Mass and that I needed to get over there to staff the tables.  After that, I headed over to the other church to help set up for the 10:00 Mass and sale.  On the way, I heard a new-to-me singer-songwriter on the radio, and he played what has become my New Favorite Song:

I just love it, and I hope you do too. This song says what music means to me. This is why I do what I do, regardless of the way things go in church-music politics. This Palm Sunday, I was reminded of why I am thankful to God–every day–for the gift of music in my life.

And if I hadn’t been in the car shuttling between churches to get to a babka sale I wasn’t supposed to staff, I would never have heard my New Favorite Song.

So I am thankful for that silver lining today!

I Wish I Had the Guts to Send This Letter

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A major religious holiday is coming up.  That’s a good clue that it’s time for my semi-annual Musical Rant.  I’m pretty sure that Satan knows that this is the best way to get to me.  Feel free to tune out if you’re not a church musician.

To the Music Director and Pastor at my parish:

I came home from church tonight to find the forwarded email notifying me that, despite the fact that the Folk Group was assigned to sing the noon Mass on Easter at least two months ago, we’ve been reassigned to a different time and location, two weeks before Easter itself.

It’s nice that you “hope this is not a problem.”

People do make holiday plans, and in the Folk Group, you’ve got a very dedicated bunch of musicians and singers whose family holiday plans revolve around our church schedule.  That schedule is already variable because we have been asked to sing that once-a-month Saturday-evening Mass rather than our traditional Sunday noon time slot.  On Christmas and Easter, we do our best to be there at different-than-usual times because of the nature of the Mass schedule on those days.  Two weeks before Easter, most of us have made our holiday plans.

Reassigning us two weeks before the most important event in the Church year tells us exactly where we fit on the musical totem pole (as if we didn’t already know.)  It’s disrespectful to us personally and professionally.  I feel like the Samaritan woman who asked Jesus to heal her child, only to be refused because of her nationality.  She replied to Jesus, “But Teacher, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.”  We are the dogs and you are giving us crumbs.  We’re expected, I guess, to be happy with whatever crumbs come our way.

And because we’re not proud (or tired) we’ll take those crumbs.  We’ll rearrange family plans.  The musician who works into the wee hours on a Saturday night will drag himself into church because he–as the rest of us do–believes that singing and playing for the glory of God are what matter.

We are not the world’s best musicians.  But we more than make up, in attitude and enthusiasm, for the polish and finesse we lack.  We view our role at Mass as being leaders of song, not performers in a show.  Our goal is to help people sing along, to help them feel comfortable enough to sing along, because singing at Mass is a huge part of prayer.  Most of the time, we achieve that goal.

In the several years since the parish merger, we have made many, many accommodations.  We have learned an entirely new repertoire.  We have used chant settings for psalms and other Mass parts as required, even through chant is extremely challenging with only guitar accompaniment.  We have bent over backwards to follow the “once-a-month Saturday night” schedule, even when it means that most of us can’t be there because of work and other obligations.  (That’s why we had the late Sunday Mass to begin with.)  We have learned and used the Mass settings we were told to use, again, even though guitar is not the best accompaniment for some of these settings.  We’ve enjoyed learning some of this new music and tolerated other pieces, but we have always learned and used what we were asked to do.

We are not there to put on a show.  We are there to help people to pray through music, to help them give honor and glory to God through music.  We do this by keeping it simple, approachable, and in a key that’s in a comfortable range for most people.  We welcome beginners, teenagers, and our own children; that’s our investment in the future (and as a parent, I know very well how much such an investment pays off.)

Being a part of the folk group in this parish is an exercise in humility.  I have to say, it gets old finding humble pie under the Christmas tree and in the Easter basket year after year after year.  My husband says that I should just be thankful that we’re being reassigned rather than cancelled altogether.  Any way you slice it, though, it still hurts.

I’m sure we’ll take the crumbs and we’ll be happy to have them.  And we’ll sing our hearts out because it’s what we do.  But you should know that it hurts to be treated this way, and that I have carried around this unspoken burden for far too long.

Breaking the Silence

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At Mass today, as the lector finished with the first reading and paused for a moment of silence before we began the Responsorial Psalm, I recalled Michelle’s post yesterday about silence; specifically, the part about silence during certain times at Mass.  We’re not very good at silence in our parish.  People start squirming pretty quickly if the lector takes too long stepping away from the ambo so the cantors can begin to sing.

And then we sang:  “I will praise your name, my king and my God.”

When the psalm concluded, the silence was broken not by the lector jumping the gun on the second reading, but by a toddler all the way on the other side of the church:  “YAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

Everyone chuckled, of course:  how cute!

Father looked at everyone, smiled, and said, “Amen!”

And then it was time for the second reading.

Still to be done

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I’m not done shopping–for my husband’s gift, the kids’ gifts, and food for Christmas dinner.  Not to mention gifts for Little Brother’s teacher and bus driver.

Nothing is wrapped.

I haven’t even started baking, and my cookie recipe makes at least 10 dozen and takes at least a full afternoon.

Little Brother has a rehearsal tonight, so it will be another late night (that makes 4 in a row!)

Last night, though, I spent two hours sitting at the front of a church with my guitar, and my son and his bass, and a children’s choir that included Little Brother, and various string, woodwind, brass and percussion instruments, and a group of about 30 amazing singers, one extremely talented pianist, and an awesome music director who kept us all together.  We celebrated a “Festival of Lessons and Carols” with beautiful music and nine readings from the Old and New Testaments.

Four hours before the festival began, I still wasn’t sure if I could play one of the songs.  It was unbelievably difficult.  I spent part of the morning transposing it.  Then I practiced, and practiced again.

I won’t say it was perfect by any means, but I’m happy that I got through it decently enough.  What a challenge!

Last night was a gift.  50 people shared their talents last night–and for many nights before at rehearsals.  Every one of those people could have been doing something else, like Christmas shopping, or homework, or watching football games, or sleeping…but this is what they chose to do.

I suspect that all 50, if asked, would respond the same way I do:  it was definitely worth it.  So worth it.

The rest of it will happen.  If I had it to do over again, I’d put off the shopping and the baking and the housecleaning (who am I kidding–I’m always ready to put off housecleaning).  I’d put it off in a second to be able to be a part of an experience like that.

What a wonderful early Christmas gift.  I am tired, proud, and very grateful.

A Christmas Rhapsody

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Because music touches you in a way nothing else can.

Because Christmas is coming.

Because classic rock is…classic.

Don’t miss Bethlehemian Rhapsody!

Not a Musical Genius

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One thing I enjoy about having an iPod is the “genius” feature in iTunes.  I can pick a song I like, click the Genius button, and immediately a playlist will be generated from the other songs in my library.  It works great–most of the time.

It does not work with Christmas music.

I wanted some background music when I was baking the gingerbread cookies just now.  Some will go to a bake sale tonight, others to a care package for Big Brother, and whatever’s left after that will get eaten here.  I made 9 dozen cookies today, so there’s enough to go around.

So I cued up Taylor Swift’s “Silent Night, Holy Night” and told the Genius to do its thing.  It went from the sublime to the ridiculous.  The second tune was Rascal Flatt’s “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” which was very nice.  And then the third tune was “Who’s Your Daddy” by Toby Keith.

I don’t think that one quite fits the Christmas theme.

I won’t be leaving my Christmas music to the Geniuses anymore.

The Big Switch

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One of the occupational hazards of being a musician at the last Mass in the building on a Sunday is that, every feast of Christ the King, you are enlisted to help switch out the hymnals.  Our hymnals don’t contain the extra “daily Mass” sections anyway, so they get this job done on Sunday after the noon Mass when there’s a captive audience of musicians and their kids to help with the job (not to mention the deacon’s teenage grandson!)

A couple of people wanted to take home a copy of the old hymnal.  That’s never a problem, as they’re just going to be recycled anyway.  But I observed to a friend, after someone asked us if they could take an old book home, that these hymnals are even more out of date than the hymnal usually is, come Christ the King Sunday.

Our parish has done a commendable job of preparing everyone for the Big Switch, and I don’t mean the new hymnals:  the change to the new translation of the Roman Missal.  Once a month, the priests would devote the homily to this topic.  Several workshops were open to the entire parish to explain the translation in detail, review the Scriptural connections, and go over what we can expect beginning next Sunday.

Before Mass yesterday, instead of singing a prelude, we reviewed the new Creed with the assembly.  My observation was that people were good sports about giving it a chance, and there wasn’t even any audible stumbling over “consubstantial.”

My only issue with the whole thing is a musical one.  Many changes have taken place in the words to the sung acclamations.  Some phrases are added, some subtracted; with the exception of the Great Amen and the Lamb of God, the acclamations needed to be rewritten to accommodate those changes.  I’m only familiar with two settings for the new Mass, and while Mass of God’s Promise was done quite well, the retrofit didn’t work as nicely with Heritage Mass.  Guess which one we’re currently using at our parish?  Sigh…

The folk group I sing with is really going to miss the acclamation that the teenagers in the group call “The Happy Gloria”–the one by the St. Louis Jesuits.  Last I checked, this was not on the slate to be redone in the new form.  It’s not our pastor’s favorite, because it takes so long to sing, but it really is a happy Gloria.  We just can’t help but sing it like we mean it–and isn’t that the point of the Gloria, after all?  There have been many times, after singing the last notes of that acclamation, that we musicians have met each others’ eyes and just known that we’re all thinking the same thing:  we have BEEN TO CHURCH.  We have WORSHIPED.

So I really hope they fix that one, because we haven’t found another Gloria that moves us to sing with such gusto that we don’t have much voice left for the Responsorial Psalm.

Next weekend, we’ll have to pay extra attention.  Musicians, especially, since some of our usual verbal cues might be different.  That’s a good thing, though.  Every once in a while, you need to get off auto-pilot and pay attention.  Everyone will have to pay attention, and, for a time, read along.  It’ll take time, but we’ll get there.  Musically, too.  But most of all, I’ll miss that Happy Gloria.

In Harmony

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(I’m in this picture, but I’m not telling where.)

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!

This, That and the Other Thing

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This morning when I went outside to grab the newspaper, I could see the morning star.  Had to rush in and get Little Brother away from his breakfast so he could see it too.  (He thought it was worth it.)

Speaking of breakfast, Little Brother is a major-league toast eater.  He’ll go through 6 to 8 slices each morning.  But that wasn’t enough to get him through until snack time.  Now I serve him 1/2 cup of vanilla yogurt before the toast.  For snack, he has fruit and a string cheese.  He says mornings are much better now.

I am doing my best to resist the open bag of candy corn that’s sitting in my kitchen.  But I’ve got some Count Chocula in the house…my kids had never eaten it before so I just HAD to get a box.

Generally I am not a flavored-coffee person.  But I highly recommend Godiva Coffee’s Pumpkin Spice.  It pairs equally well with candy corn AND Count Chocula.  Note to self:  go back to Wegman’s and get another bag of this coffee before it disappears!

Looking forward to tonight’s activities.  I schlep the kids around a lot to things they do.  But tonight’s event is really for me.  It’s the first rehearsal for the Festival of Lessons and Carols in the parish where Little Brother attends school.   Little Brother will be in the children’s chorus, and Big Brother will play various musical instruments.  I’ll be singing and playing guitar.  I have no illusions of having the kind of musical ability that many of the other singers/musicians possess.  This is an amazingly talented bunch of people!  But I find that I sing and play better when I’m challenged by being among musicians who are better than me.  Time to stretch!

I don’t get to bring my guitar tonight, though.  It’s just a vocal rehearsal for the first day, which kind of freaks me out because my guitar is definitely my security blanket.  It’s hard for me to sing when I don’t have something for my hands to do.

I’m still hoping against hope that I find the earring I lost the other day.  It’s not a valuable or expensive earring, but it was a really cute pair of earrings and I liked them a lot.  I should have an earring more than 8 days before I lose it, I think.

Last night I took Middle Sister shopping.  She had a really weird shopping list:  shoes for the Homecoming dance and a blanket sleeper (known in this house as a “woobie.”)  The sleeper is for her Halloween costume.  The last time I saw her wear one of those, she was 4!  After trying on a lot of shoes with insanely high heels, platforms, sparkles and the whole nine yards, she settled on a beautiful and feminine pair of black silk pumps.  Grown-up shoes and little-kid pajamas, all in the same shopping trip.  I guess that’s life with a teenager.

Christmas in July

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Little Brother and 3 friends are sitting here, deep in negotiations about what to play.  While they work out how to pair off for “teams” in a game, one of the kids is paging through a church hymnal left on the table after choir practice the other day.

“How about we play on teams for one round and all together for another round,” one friend suggests.

Meanwhile, another child is announcing the next hymn–and they all drop the discussion of teams and open up a music book and start singing “Go Tell It On The Mountain.”

Their great enthusiasm makes up for their lack of perfect pitch (not to mention tempo.)

Sing on, kids!