Music and Healing and other meanderings

Last night as I was posting I made a passing reference to this song, because I was reminded of it in the context of the Scriptural reference. After posting I spent quite a bit of time listening to it and meditating on it. At the time of my passing reference to it, I had no idea what a gift the song would be to me last night. I've been wrestling with some things (Ephesians 6:12 sorta things, to be specific) and this song, this Scriptural meditation, brought exactly the healing needed.

This had me thinking today about the role of music in Christian life. Mine, at least.

I think we Christians take singing for granted, in a way. When I lived in Japan I had a friend who was very curious about why Christians sing so much. It seemed strange to her, since singing is not really a part of Japanese religion. Spoken chant, yes. Silence, yes. But not people singing together.

Singing is obviously strongly rooted in the traditions of Israel. It is especially interesting to me to think of the places in the Old Testament when the armies were sent out with singers leading the way (as in 2 Chr. 20). There is also of course the famous scene of David playing his harp for King Saul for relief from the evil spirit that tormented him (1 Sam. 16). These Scriptures and others are pointed to as foundational for much in the modern and charismatic practice of using song in spiritual warfare. When I first returned to liturgical worship after five years of soaking in this other tradition, I found the practice of declaring Scriptures (psalms, gospel acclamations, the sanctus, etc) in song particularly powerful. I saw it as taking part in a vast spiritual drama that was happening in real time. But with time, of course, what we always do becomes what we always do, and the shocking power of it can slip by unnoticed.

Music has played a rather intense role in my spiritual journey and in my life, period. It's genetic, first of all. But as a kid I used to sit and plunk out the soprano and alto parts of hymns for hours on end. In 1986 there was the song Daughter. In 1990-91 as I wrestled with the fact that my friends were becoming Catholics, I woke every Saturday morning to sounds of John Michael Talbot music wafting through my closet, thanks to my upstairs neighbor. He and his music eventually played a role in my conversion. There was the worship at my pre-Catholic fellowship that was so intense. There were the songs I wrote myself. There were recording artists whose songs helped me meditate on truth. There was the moment, on the threshold of my conversion, when I discovered I was born on the feast of the patroness of musicians. I suddenly felt assurance down to my toes that my life was not a mistake. Always, always music.

When I was in Japan, things became more mercenary as music was just a tool to teach English, and then I pretty much set it aside, with the exception of a semester as a music ministry leader at Franciscan University during grad school. I got married, eventually became a mother, and music for me was pretty much reduced to filling task slots when someone needed a guitarist.

Then I started hanging out with Communion and Liberation folks, and experienced my first singing party at the Lewises. Hmmm. Something started to shake up in me again.

My Mom had been encouraging me to join a choir for years, as had many other people. My standard line was that I wanted to encourage the pew-sitters to sing, and so I sat among them. But I was also terrified of bad leaders. Some people have problems listening to others use bad grammar. Well, I have a problem listening to people use bad tempo. And I had my fill of organists who played so slowly one could hardly remember what one was singing from the beginning to the end of a psalm response, or vocal/guitar groups who added so many strained harmonies that the words were strangled off.

But now I have joined our church choir because fortunately our organist of the last four years or so knows what he is doing. And a while back when I heard the choir I thought they were actually sounding pretty good. I'm meandering back to where I started this post, really I am. My experience of singing with this choir has been like a new spiritual soaking. Just like there is nourishment given to our bodies by eating deliciously prepared foods, so I think there is nourishment given to our spirits through lovingly rehearsed music. It's amazing when people tell me after Mass how much the choir adds to the worship experience, and how moved people are. My experience from the inside has been powerful, to say the least. As the lyrics to "Man of the Tombs" say, "I found my heart, I can now be saved." It is a precious, amazing, spiritual and miraculous (and sometimes scary) thing to receive oneself on a deeper level than had previously been the case, but that has been my experience.