As a people, one thing we definitely do is sing. We may not sing well, we often don’t, but every Sunday, rain or shine, we file into those pews and we sing. As many as four different times.
And if you’re a child? More singing!
Like nearly everybody else [1], we’re singing less than we used to, but still we sing. Inwardly kicking and screaming, maybe. Against our better judgment and in spite of being bored to tears, we sing.
Music has probably been a feature of worship since humans started the practice. There’s a reason the Psalms are among the most quoted scriptures.
And yet, as things stand, we’ve managed to take the life right out of singing. And I know; this isn’t a uniquely Mormon problem. It’s just that we’ve done an especially excellent job of making communal singing a joyless penance.
It is a sorry state of affairs.
Last Sunday, I participated in our ward’s Primary Program. Both of my kids are still in Primary (this is the eldest’s last Program—she’d be elated if she could find it in her to care about anything church-related). One of my kids sings beautifully; one can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and they both hate it. In elementary school, they each had about two years of mandatory choral ensemble, which is more than many public school kids get, and they hated that too.
Why do we hate singing? A few of the very youngest kids in our Primary were really into it, belting the words for all to hear. And we have one child who has the makings of a truly gifted singer. But most were in it for the celebratory ice cream sundae party in the second hour (it was awesome—wish you were there).
In general, singing isn’t cool. Church has made it a chore, and communal singing is all but gone from our wider culture.
Maybe I’m a weirdo, but I really enjoy singing. I’m not especially good. But I’m not bad either. And just about the only time it’s ever okay to sing communally these days outside of church is “Happy Birthday to You.” While I’m carrying the melody, everybody else looks like they have a toothache. And they look faintly embarrassed for me, I’m so clearly into it.
And before you tell me that there are places for deviants like me called community choirs, 1) I know, 2) it figures prominently in my retirement plan, 3) that’s not what I want; or rather, it’s not all I want. I want us to sing together in public and enjoy it. I want for it not to matter how good or bad we are. The point is we’re doing it together and having a good time.
One of the problems, of course, is that all of us have access, all the time, to exceptional singing. You pull out your smartphone and the best singers ever recorded are all right there for you to enjoy. The best choirs too. MoTab—sorry, the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square (I’ve died inside), the Vienna Boys’ Choir, the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus, the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge. “What’s the point?” we grumble. “We’re never gonna sound like that.”
But that’s just it. The point isn’t being exceptional! The point is being together. We’ve lost the art of being unexceptional together. Lost our patience for it too.
Not me. I have faith in our ordinariness, in the power of our mediocrity. I have seen what happens when people find connection through singing together. A couple of examples:
- On an overnight field trip with a group of students, the entire busload of us spontaneously burst into a rendition of Sublime’s Santeria. (My students were both surprised and impressed that I knew every word.) It was a trip highlight for all of us and remains one of my fondest career memories.
- When I taught the British literature series at my college, Robbie Burns came up in the lineup right around Burns’ Night. We’d turn class into a Burns’ morning, and I compelled every class to sing “Auld Lang Syne” (all five verses). They’d roll their eyes at first, and invariably, by the end of the song, people were holding hands and crying.
The holiday season is coming, and it’s another one of those vanishingly rare times when maybe, just maybe, you’ll get the chance to sing communally in public. Maybe even outside of a religious setting.
I have a request: Do it!
Some questions:
- What do you think accounts for the disappearance of communal singing in public life?
- What would make singing in church better?
- When was the last time you enjoyed singing in a group in public?
[1] And it’s only gotten worse in the nearly 15 years since that article was published.
Music is what helped me hold on to church attendance the longest.
The vast majority of the profound spiritual experiences I’ve had in my life happened while I was singing. I enjoyed singing the hymns in Sacrament Meeting, especially when the organist went “rogue” and actually played at tempo rather than lapsing into the habit of converting each hymn into a dirge. The only calling I ever enjoyed was playing piano for the primary. Listening to kids sing with enthusiasm and utter conviction was inspiring. Even if not all were participating equally, it was overall a joyful noise.
Sure, I’m biased in favor of singing. Of music in general, really. Once I hit puberty and my voice changed, I joined the ward choir. I successfully auditioned for the elite choir in high school. On my mission there was a quartet of us that, whenever we saw each other at leadership meetings, would sing together a cappella during breaks. In college I joined the institute’s audition choir. During winter and spring breaks we would tour various seminaries in the area. Singing and having spiritual experiences all day, every day, for a week was exhausting, but uplifting. More recently I joined a gay men’s chorus, as a straight man. They welcomed me wholeheartedly and I got to sing challenging and fun songs. I’m confident in my choir voice. At some point I’d like to take voice lessons and improve my ability to sing solos.
Singing Happy Birthday never goes well. Even in the institute choir when we’d sing for member birthdays we managed to fail somehow.
I think singing in church would go better if the hymns were played at the proper speed, for one thing. I think hymn selection plays a big part, too. While it is important to remain “on theme” for the meeting, selecting hymns that people like to sing (and are able to sing) would invite more to participate. I also think that those who have developed their vocal talents should maybe hold back a little bit. I recognize that I hearing a trained singer can be intimidating, so when I sing hymns I don’t go all out. I love singing and I want others to enjoy it too.
Love this Margie! I love to sing, though I’m okay at it, I can carry a tune, I’m no pro. I loved sitting next to a dear friend over the last 5 years that could carry a tune and sing parts. When he would sing the parts, I could follow the notes and sing with him. It was one aspect of that calling that I shall cherish. My dogs get sung to on a regular basis. Especially when arriving home from church, I sing made up songs of my joy that they are part of our family, usually to the tune of a hymn sung in church…..”I thank thee oh god for my dogalini’s, they sure like to wag their tails alot!”
When I was a wee lad, my dad used to play guitar, banjo or ukelele and we would sing fun songs like “Little Brown Jug” “Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night.” On warm summer days there was always music in our home when we swam in our pool, Sergio Mendes and the Brazil 66, Herb Alpert, Baja Marimba Band, Mamas & the Papas, Elton John, Beatles.
My dear Mother in law played piano and organ in our congregation and on a regular basis, the sweet lady that was our chorister would start to lead a beautiful hymn like it was a funeral dirge and my Mother in law would pick up the speed to a point that you think her old lady triceps were going to swing right off her arm!🤣
I think there is a move afoot with some of new hymns coming out to “pep up” our singing in church. I certainly hope so.
Cheers to making up “Dog Songs”😉
I love this! Music has always been my surest route to a connection to the Divine.
Singing with the Tabernacle Choir has been one of the great joys of my life for that very reason. However, as the OP points out, you don’t have to sound like the TabCATS (the replacement acronym for MoTab) to create that connection. I’ve felt it in ward choirs or barbershop quartets or even karaoke. There’s something profoundly unifying about music, especially when everyone is singing along, and it has nothing to do with talent or technical skill.
I remember the first time I sat in a sacrament meeting alongside my father-in-law. He sang the opening hymn with gusto, and I was perplexed as, looking at the hymnbook, I couldn’t tell if he was singing the tenor or the bass part. It finally dawned on me that he was singing the melody – or trying to, anyway. It made absolutely no difference to him that he couldn’t carry a tune even if it had handles on it. He was making a joyful noise, and it was extraordinarily endearing. It was also very much a fulfillment of D&C 25:12 – “[T]he song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads.”
As my father always used to say, there isn’t a meeting in the Church that couldn’t be improved by better music, and more of it, and better speaking, and less of it.
Stallioncornell – Your father nailed it! A great friend that was on my flight crew for numerous combat missions is not a member, does not attend a church, but considers “Music and the Spoken Word” his worship time on Sundays.
Keep up the good work brother of the TabCats, I love that!