So I admit it. Sometimes I start composing posts about events before they happen. I mean I don’t actually report on something before it happens, but in anticipation I’ll frame an upcoming experience in terms of how to describe it on my blog. Last Sunday, I planned just such a post, but my actual experience defied my expectations. This post, therefore, is drastically different than I had planned.

I preached in a parish church Sunday at an evening communion service (part of a sermon series on the women of the Bible and you can find my sermon on Phoebe here.) Anyways, as I was planning the service with the minister, he mentioned that it was unlikely that the church could find an organist for the service. Consequently, he requested that I choose well-known hymns, as a CD of such hymns would lead our singing.

Ok, my first reaction was a bit on the snobby side. I had never sung to a CD before. I bemoaned the world’s state of affairs when a sizable congregation can’t track down a pianist for a simple service. But before I went too far down this path of negativism, I imagined a blog post.

What a great post it would be: to describe my bad attitude towards congregations singing to CDs before actually experiencing it, and then show my good sense and happy surprise after the CD-singing experience proves much better than expected. “St. Olaf Choir singer is accompanied by a CD, and he likes it” would have been an appropriate headline. It could have been a good post, but the actual singing calls for another type of post entirely.

The CD-led singing was a disaster. Perhaps its because the CD wasn’t loud enough, or the organist playing on it played more quickly than expected, or because the introduction was too short, or the sound system speakers in the wrong place, but for whatever reason, the CD was leading about twice as fast as the congregation had a mind to sing. When the CD ended the first verse, we were only about halfway through. It sounded like a cannon gone haywire, an organist’s idea of hell. And folks started fidgeting and frowning, and before my eyes a congregation happy to sing God’s praises morphed into individuals uncertain whether to offer praise at all.

And then the minister put his hand up. And he shouted. And an elder shot to action. And all was well in the world.

“Cut the CD” he said. “We’ll sing a cappella.” And he began that second verse, and the singing was marvelous.

It wasn’t that the congregation sang to a particularly high artistic standard; they just sang out. They sang with their hearts–without that darn CD. They sang aware of their neighbor’s support but not self-conscious of their own. They sang God’s praise with the voice God gave them. And it was beautiful.

That congregation of less than thirty didn’t need a CD, rather they just needed the invitation to sing with nothing–and all–of the voices they already had.

So I’m still a bit uncertain about the wisdom of CD-led congregational song. And I’ll be more careful about writing posts in my head before experiencing an event in reality. But I am very grateful for the episode, for when that elder hit “stop,” the congregation truly engaged.

photo by zen