Once upon a time way back in the late spring of 2010 when I was preparing for Choir Sunday, I found an article in one of my choral journals that clearly addressed some of the difficulties facing church musicians. I gave a copy to Reverend Sarah so that she could use it for her sermon on Choir Sunday.  She immediately suggested that I should give the sermon that day. I knew that I couldn’t take on “How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place” from the Brahms Requiem as well as preach a sermon. Sarah explained that it would not be a problem, I could do it the next year. I managed to get out of preaching that sermon again the next year but alas, eventually the very clever Sarah asked again, in March, I said “oh, July is sooooo... far away,  no problem.” But here is the dilemma, I still haven't been able to find the article that I know is just perfect for this message. However, I’m always preaching the same message - it has two parts and it's my pleasure to share an edited version of that sermon with you today. Thank you to Pastors Todd and Ginger for allowing me this opportunity.

The first part is that music is our invisible connection to God and secondly, everyone can and should be encouraged to make music.  

Karl Paulnack when serving as Head of the Music Department at Boston Conservatory gave a much quoted speech to the parents of the incoming Freshman Class. During the course of that speech he discussed the ancient Greeks and how they believed that music was the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects.  He said, “Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us”.  I say that’s God working within us. 

In his psalms (songs) David repeatedly states the importance  

of singing,   

of playing instruments, 

of making a joyful noise, 

of having all creatures 

make a joyful noise to God.

David understood that music is the invisible thread between God and his creatures. 

Every week my head is filled with fragments of music from the previous worship service.  I don’t choose them and I can’t stop them playing over and over in my head but they force me to consider the text or context more carefully. It is the invisible thread to God working within me. 

Charged with choosing music for worship, I am convinced that the music should coordinate with the message that will be preached but quite often this needs to happen long before a message has been selected. Sometimes, I just need to get out of the way and let God send the plan. Many of you have often heard me say that I don’t choose the music, God does. You’ve also heard me say that I sometimes wish that he would send the message a little sooner so that there could be more practice time.

One recent afternoon before I began working on this message, while I was supposed to be practicing for the upcoming church service, I was interrupted by suddenly knowing exactly what the hymns for today’s service would be. There’s that mystical, invisible thread to God and it’s there for all of us. What we need to do is allow it to happen and use it.

This is both a joy and a challenge for what moves one creature doesn’t always work for another. When you hear the birds, do you stop to listen to the deep throated singing of the thrush? Do you enjoy the jubilation of the seagulls, the osprey, and the crows as much?

The same thing happens with human music. Do you get excited or moved by 

*Gregorian Chant

*Medieval organum

*Gospel

*Jazz

*the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

*the organ music of JS Bach played on one of the great Silbermann organs?

People don’t look alike, don’t speak the same language, don’t hold the same beliefs and certainly aren’t moved by the same kinds of music.

Fortunately, in our church we are able to use many different styles of music, sometimes written for sacred purposes and sometimes not. Even when not written for the specific purpose of enhancing our connection to God - it might. A few years ago I played “Chattanooga Choo Choo” during the offertory. There isn’t anything remotely religious in that piece and it took me quite a while to convince myself that it would be alright to use it. It was a gift to one of our much loved members celebrating over 60 years of marriage in June. Her husband said that was the only piece from their wedding that she would remember. During the same service we heard a beautiful performance of the Malotte “Lord’s Prayer”, a piece that I have always found truly moving. Not so for all the members of this congregation. Some of you really dig the jazz service coming up in a few weeks - while others find it dreadful. How many of you heard something beautiful or moving during the Prelude? How many were thinking "I can't stand all this ringy dingy stuff."

Thank you for your acceptance of these varied musical moments that we share each week.  

Nancy Duncan preached a very moving sermon here once where she spoke of “extravagant hospitality” and said “it is a sacred hospitality that changes the giver and the receiver.” I think that when we try to acomodate the musical needs of each person we are engaging in “extravagant hospitality”.

But it takes patience, courage, and a lot of cooperation.

I sent out a link on Wednesday to “The Atheist Song”. According to its composer Steve Martin it is the only song in the Atheist Hymnal. As we listened, some of us might have felt a little smug that we have a multitude of great religious music. 

But our music is not for entertainment or amusement - it’s part of who we are.

Our music is not a luxury - it’s a necessity.

It’s one of our many invisible connections with God. It’s how we make sense of God moving within us.

My grandmother loved music. She whistled, she sang, she bounced babies, and she watched Lawrence Welk religiously every Saturday night but she would never sing in church. When we talked about it one day she explained that someone had told her once in church that she shouldn’t sing.  

How many of you sitting here today have been told at some point in your lives that you can’t sing or you shouldn’t?

I am convinced that God wants each of us to sing, to dance, to ring bells, and to make a joyful noise.  

God wants us to open the path for that invisible thread to work inside us and if we enjoy the process- God will not be unhappy.

And since you now know that I consider you all musicians in our worship let us share a prayer for musicians and liturgists inspired by Paul Inwood.

Grant unto us, O Lord, nerves of steel

that we may dare to sing a new song - and teach others to sing it too.

Grant unto us, O Lord, iron hands

that we might grasp the nettle of new music.

Yet, grant unto us, O Lord, velvet fingers

that we may touch tenderly the sensibilities of Your people.

Grant unto us, O Lord, feet light as feathers

that we may tread softly on the eggshells placed in our path.

Yet, grant unto us, O Lord, firm footsteps

that we might follow where You would have us go.

Grant unto us, O Lord, occasional failing memory

that we may forget the harsh criticisms of our taste in music.

Yet, grant unto us, O Lord, memory clear as crystal

that we may remember the joy - and comfort - 

that our words and music bring.

Grant unto us, O Lord, the tongues of angels

that we may create harmony of discord.

Grant unto us, O Lord, shoulders of Teflon

that the mud that shall be cast shall not stick.

And above all else, dear Lord, grant unto us space and time in our busy-ness

that our souls may touch your soul - and we may learn to sing the songs that our

souls shall sing for ever.

Amen