Many of our churches still have choirs. They are interesting tools, choirs, filled with good people who just want to help lead singing. There are very few really good singers, but a lot of people who care enough and who sound good together.
We tend to dress them in robes, so they all look kind of alike, and that can make them appear to be rather homogenous. But, when you sit up closer to the front, you can see their faces. They are not only different in how they look but, well, in how they look.
Watching the faces in a choir is always a challenge.
You have, of course, the joyous faces. Almost every choir has a fair number of people who are thoroughly enjoying the service and the singing and their role in worship. They manifest joy by every move they make. They are the ones most people gravitate toward in watching a choir. They "look like choir members." I can remember a choir director telling us once that we "should all" look like that.
Then, there are some who seem happy, but are not really joyous. You can see their happiness and, you know what, that's okay. The director was wrong, after all. Trying to "look joyous" when you are not joyous is just another way of lying to people. We should not try to look joyous when we are just happy. Happy choir members are pleasant to watch.
There are also some very serious faces in the choir, usually. These are often the men, for example, but you see it among women as well. They are there, singing, doing their duty, but they are not "lost in the moment," but are still fully there. They are either thinking deeply about the songs (unusual in the kind of songs generally sung, where it would be hard to get lost), or they are thinking about something else. These faces bother me because I wonder what is happening in their life. Did they just lose their job? Were they just informed of a friend with cancer or, perhaps, of a disease they have? Maybe their finances are difficult and they just got yet another call from a creditor. Perhaps their children are not there that Sunday because of a fight. Who knows what may be on their hearts? But they are there as they promised to be. I like the serious faces, because they remind me that worship is not a game, it is a duty. A pleasurable duty, but a duty nonetheless.
Finally, there are the sad, troubled faces in the choir. You see them, now and again, someone who is not really involved in the choir's work. They sing along, miss a line here and there, look down frequently. Perhaps they are unsettled or nervous. They have other things on their mind. I worry about them and pray for them.
They sit at the front of the service (in most churches) and, other than being watched, no one talks to them. Among the 10 or 20 or 200 members of a choir, there are as many stories as among any 10 or 20 or 200 other church goers. There are stories of courage and fear and there are worries and concerns. There are illnesses and burdens.
Watch your choir, next time you sit in a church. Sit close enough to see them so you can know what is happening in that choir loft. You might find that there is a lot more to a choir than you something think.
We tend to dress them in robes, so they all look kind of alike, and that can make them appear to be rather homogenous. But, when you sit up closer to the front, you can see their faces. They are not only different in how they look but, well, in how they look.
Watching the faces in a choir is always a challenge.
You have, of course, the joyous faces. Almost every choir has a fair number of people who are thoroughly enjoying the service and the singing and their role in worship. They manifest joy by every move they make. They are the ones most people gravitate toward in watching a choir. They "look like choir members." I can remember a choir director telling us once that we "should all" look like that.
Then, there are some who seem happy, but are not really joyous. You can see their happiness and, you know what, that's okay. The director was wrong, after all. Trying to "look joyous" when you are not joyous is just another way of lying to people. We should not try to look joyous when we are just happy. Happy choir members are pleasant to watch.
There are also some very serious faces in the choir, usually. These are often the men, for example, but you see it among women as well. They are there, singing, doing their duty, but they are not "lost in the moment," but are still fully there. They are either thinking deeply about the songs (unusual in the kind of songs generally sung, where it would be hard to get lost), or they are thinking about something else. These faces bother me because I wonder what is happening in their life. Did they just lose their job? Were they just informed of a friend with cancer or, perhaps, of a disease they have? Maybe their finances are difficult and they just got yet another call from a creditor. Perhaps their children are not there that Sunday because of a fight. Who knows what may be on their hearts? But they are there as they promised to be. I like the serious faces, because they remind me that worship is not a game, it is a duty. A pleasurable duty, but a duty nonetheless.
Finally, there are the sad, troubled faces in the choir. You see them, now and again, someone who is not really involved in the choir's work. They sing along, miss a line here and there, look down frequently. Perhaps they are unsettled or nervous. They have other things on their mind. I worry about them and pray for them.
They sit at the front of the service (in most churches) and, other than being watched, no one talks to them. Among the 10 or 20 or 200 members of a choir, there are as many stories as among any 10 or 20 or 200 other church goers. There are stories of courage and fear and there are worries and concerns. There are illnesses and burdens.
Watch your choir, next time you sit in a church. Sit close enough to see them so you can know what is happening in that choir loft. You might find that there is a lot more to a choir than you something think.