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Reflection – April 28th, 2024 – Fifth Sunday of Easter

Singing in the Assembly

When we come together to celebrate Eucharist we are asked to do something we are seldom (if ever) asked to do elsewhere. Some of us find it difficult or we think we are not capable. Or we think that it is something that only women (if we are men) or children (if we are adults) or professionals (if we are not) should do. Some of us don’t even think about it at all; we simply don’t do it out of habit. When we come to this assembly, we are asked, we are expected, to sing this liturgy together. And yet, too many of us don’t.

This is ironic given that our culture is flooded with music. Music on the radio wakes many of us up each morning. We may have it playing in the background as we wash, dress, and make breakfast. It rides in the car with us on the way to work or school. Music is there in the grocery store aisles, in the elevators, and as we’re put on hold with businesses we call. Music is such a part of the background noise of modern life.

Sometimes we listen to music purposefully and in a relaxed manner with headphones enjoying our favorite songs. I find household chores a drudgery without music accompanying me. What would a party be without music?

Music is very much part of our culture. But notice how: We listen to it; we don’t often make it. Yet, when we come to this assembly, we are required to make music, to make joyful noises to God. The primary mode of music in the liturgy is that which is made by human voices—singing. And not just some human voices—as valuable as the ministry of the choir is, the liturgy’s primary song is that of this assembly, the whole body, all of us together, the one body of Christ giving voice to what is in the depth of its heart.

Words wed to music, sung from the heart, give voice to the deepest human mysteries. Don’t you agree that some songs just make you want to stand up and shout? Other songs bring tears to our eyes even though we promised ourselves we wouldn’t cry. Certain music touches deep places within us and transport us to another realm effortlessly.

Think of the acclamations we sing during liturgy, these simple and strange words set to music: Amen, Alleluia, Holy, holy, holy. To speak these words is somehow deficient. (So much so that the Church has a rule: When the assembly does not sing Alleluia, it does not say it either. Better to skip it than to speak it limply). But when we sing these words, the praise that they contain bubbles up and out, and the words ring true. Singing together not only does something inside of me and you, but it also does something for us as a body. It unites us. Nowhere is that truer and more necessary than during Communion. Just think of the word COMMUNION. Communion is our “common union.” It is during the procession to the communion table that we should be most united, but it’s often when we are least united. Many people, unfortunately, disengage themselves from the Body of Christ (the assembly) in the very act of receiving Communion. We should all be singing the Communion hymn and not entering into our own private moment with Jesus. A well-respected American liturgist puts it this way:

“If you do not sing as you come to the table, if you do not at least make an effort to join in the song, you come to this table a freeloader. You’re not carrying your weight, not doing your part, not offering your praise, not saying, “Thank you.” You’re muting the voice of the body of Christ. So give voice to Christ: Sing as you come to this table. The church needs you to join in the song; we are all weaker if you don’t.”

What would Advent be without “O come, O come, Emmanuel” or Christmas without the carols? Would it truly be Easter without the chanting of the Exultet or without glad sounds of “Jesus Christ is Risen Today”? Would we know the Spirit’s presence on Pentecost if we forgot to sing, “Come, Holy Spirit”?

If we don’t learn to sing here in the assembly, we’ll never sing out there. Out there being the cacophony of the world where the poor and oppressed still don’t have a voice and little reason to sing. If you are ever tempted to think singing is useless, think again about how South Africans banded together around an anthem of freedom, how Polish people joined voices to sing of Solidarity, and how African Americans lifted their voices to sing, “We shall overcome.” Singing together will change us. We have only to take up the tune.

Fr. Phil

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