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What a wonderful place this is! What wonderful people you all are. To come together today, in this room, at this time. To think of the hundreds of concentric circles of acquaintance that are converging here, right now. Look around you. Aren’t we amazing?

We could have been any number of other places right now. Warm, in bed, asleep. Reading the paper over brunch. Watching the news. Taking a walk or a run, or a bike ride. Shopping for a super bowl banquet.

But the fact that we chose to be together today is significant. It’s music Sunday! We came today to honor the cause of creative worship. Because, what is church without music? It’s a lot of words. Many of them good words..

But it’s like, I took a class last month at Eden Seminary on Hymnody and Psalmnody: the study of hymns and psalms. We spent a week on hymn writers, and learning how to write hymns. And when I looked at the hymns the professor was teaching us about, I just had to ask, “Where’s the music?” It was all poetry. The main objective of hymn writers, it seems, is to paraphrase the story into the right number of syllables so that it can fit into a tune. They either don’t have any tune in mind, or they borrow an old one.

Yaroslav Vajda is a friend of ours. He’s a very kind, old Lutheran who is internationally sought-after as a famous hymn writer. My husband, Bob, the composer showed me a book of Jerry Vajda’s hymns. I had to say, “Where’s the music?” They were all words. Verses of poetry. Beautiful, inspired, but without a melody, you cannot sing them.

This always bothered me as a young Lutheran, growing up. What are the Psalms? They are supposedly the songs that King David wrote to sing with his lyre or harp. But where is the music? How do we know what they sounded like?

How do we know what any song sounds like? What is the nature of music composition? Where does music come from?

Some people are more gifted in hearing music than others. It’s a skill like having the ability to speak a foreign language easily, or do mathematical calculations quickly. We all have our strengths. We all have our gifts.

I think musical ideas come from the same place fictional stories, art and scientific theories come from. Those who have special talents, who want to create, look for ideas everywhere and take their inspiration from wherever they can find it.

But I also think many times, that divine inspiration can only come from within. And it’s necessary to practice listening for that still, small voice inside.

And when it comes, sometimes it’s magical. Listen to composers talk. Sarah Flowers Adams was a British Unitarian who in 1841 wrote the words for “Nearer My God to Thee”. But it wasn’t set to music until 1856 when American Lowell Mason in Massachusetts said, “this melody came to me one night “through the stillness of my house”.

What if a melody “came to you?” Would you sing it? Would your inner critic tell you it was silly and no one would ever believe you could write a song?

To compose is to say “yes” to that inner voice that brings the ideas.

To fit words and music together that say something significant to anyone besides yourself is to make a connection that is not only aesthetic, but emotional. Music can touch the senses where words cannot.

What music do you listen to? What is most meaningful to you? In my car the radio is most often tuned to KLOU. I guess I enjoy the nostalgia that tugs at my whole being.

When we put readings and music together with sermons to create a weekly worship experience, we look for both words and musical styles. We know that everyone has their favorites, and you cannot please all the people all the time. So we try to vary the styles.

Which brings me to today. A celebration of the volunteer musician. The one who may not agree with the words of the song he’s asked to sing, so he temporarily and GENEROUSLY sets aside his own beliefs and instead focuses on the melody. Or the singer who cannot stand a certain style of music, but does understand the significance of the words for today. So she sets aside her own feelings for the good of the whole.

Church musicians have the sacred job of learning the intent of the composer and delivering the message to your ears. It’s a divine occupation. It’s the closest some of us ever get to creation.

I like to say that my faith is challenged each week. Will enough people show up for choir? Will they learn the music well enough? And my faith is restored each week.

I have witnessed the transformative power of music here at Eliot Chapel, over and over again. To watch someone dare to step out of their safety net, to overcome stage fright, to blossom into a stronger, braver, better musician. To learn the life lessons of putting the group before the individual, this is a team effort. Choir is a covenant group. Membership is open. If you cannot commit to a long term of singing, we’ll take you for a short term. If you can play an instrument, we’ll try to fit you into a good ensemble. If you have no apparent talent, we welcome you on the Music Committee.

And now, if you have ever served on the Music Committee, would you please stand? If you have ever played or sang a prelude or Coffee House, please stand. If you ever contributed to the purchase of hymnals or hand bells, please stand. If you have ever sung in choir here, please stand. Please join me in expressing our appreciation. (clap)

Thank you all. I hope we continue to touch your senses, and bring messages of hope and inspiration to you.

Please turn to song #1064, Blue Boat Home, in your teal blue book, Singing the Journey. This is an old Welsh hymn tune, hyfrydol, set to new words. Enjoy!