Lexington, KY - St. Augustine of Hippo wrote, "For he who sings praise does not only praise, but also praises joyously; he who sings praise is not only singing but also loving Him to whom he is singing."
My father had many talents and gifts. Singing wasn't one of them. He told me he lost the ability to sing sometime in elementary school. It has just occurred to me in recent years that maybe he could never sing and it was only after some years in school that somebody told him.
My mother played the piano and had a good voice. Sometimes she sang and accompanied herself; sometimes family members or visitors joined in. I was introduced to everything from lullabies to hymns to Gilbert and Sullivan; blessedly little of the latter. Often Pop joined in the singing, especially patriotic songs and Christmas carols. Start "The Star Spangled Banner" or "Joy to the World," a special favorite, and stand back. What he lacked in ability he made up for in enthusiasm.
He sang with the same gusto in church and I was never aware of anyone turning in astonishment, or asking Pop to turn it down. Perhaps Methodists are an especially kindly folk.
I had a tolerably good tenor voice and sang with a quartet, in the high school chorus and in the all-state chorus. Then suddenly one day in my 40s I lost control of the vocal cords. Sometimes I had no voice at all; sometimes I had a little, though it was weak and breathy. Speaking for any length of time, even with amplification, took a lot of wind and often left me puffing and a bit dizzy as if I'd just blown up a hundred balloons. Bad problem for a priest who preached three times each Sunday.
Over the years I've recovered some control but my voice is hoarse, without much range. Now retired, I worship among the congregation and sing more or less to myself, standing next to my wife, who has a lovely voice. At home I can do a falsetto, but my wife and the cats discourage it. I can also sing "in my head" in whatever voice I choose.
I miss singing, really singing. So did my friend and mentor, the late Bishop Addison Hosea. Addison could hit all the right notes and taught my seminary class how to do Anglican Chant, but the quality of his voice lacked something. He said he planned to spend the first thousand years -
or maybe it was 10,000 -
in heaven singing with his new voice. I like to think he's doing that.
Having a less-than-pleasing voice, or no ear for pitch, didn't stop Pop, Addison or me from singing as best we could. We had to. In "Singing and Making Melody to the Lord," Jim Piper wrote: "The reason we sing is because there are depths and heights and intensities and kinds of emotion that will not be satisfactorily expressed by mere prosaic forms, or even poetic readings. There are realities that demand to break out of prose into poetry, and some demand that poetry be stretched into song."
Piper went on: "So music and singing are necessary to Christian faith and worship for the simple reason that the realities of God and Christ, creation and salvation, heaven and hell are so great that when they are known truly and felt duly, they demand more than discussion and analysis and description; they demand poetry and song and music. Singing is the Christian's way of saying: God is so great that thinking will not suffice -
there must be deep feeling -
and talking will not suffice; there must be singing."
I am taken with Addison's plan and imagine joining in his song along with my father. The song has already been going on 20 some years in earth time.
Meantime, I'll take as a comforting promise the last lines of a an American folk hymn:
"And when from death I'm free I'll sing and joyful be, and through eternity I'll sing on, I'll sing on, and through eternity I'll sing on."