“All God’s critters got a place in the choir. Some sing low, and some sing higher.”

Recently, I have been thinking of this Bill Staines 1979 folk song.

In one session of General Conference, there was a choir of singers from different stakes in Northern Utah. I noticed there was a woman singing with the tenors. I was very glad to see this and it reminded me of an experience I had in our Layton ward about 30 years ago. I was asked to be the Ward Choir President. It mostly involved inviting(bribing) and encouraging(badgering) people to join the ward choir and show up for practice. I made brownies or muffins for every practice to bribe those who might be hesitant. I was constantly listening for strong voices in Relief Society and Sacrament so I could find more people to invite. 

One Sunday, I heard a rich, beautiful voice singing during the opening song in Relief Society. It was a woman who had recently moved into the ward. I introduced myself after church, expressed gratitude to her for her voice, and asked her to be a part of the choir.

She hesitated a bit before answering. She said she loved singing, and would love to be in the choir, but was not sure she would be welcome. “I sing tenor,” she said. “In my last ward, they wouldn’t let me sing in the choir because they wouldn’t let a woman sing tenor.”

I couldn’t decide if I should first express the outrage I felt that anyone would prevent her from singing because of that, or first tell her there were no barriers like that here. I went with taking her hand and telling her how thrilled we would be to have her sing tenor in the choir, and how much we needed strong tenor voices like her. I can’t remember if I even considered the possibility of anyone having a problem with it, but I knew I would be willing to insist that all involved make a place for her. 

Our ward choir was so fortunate to have her with us. I often thought of how bereft we would be without her.

Seeing the woman singing with the tenors in General Conference reminded me of this particular experience. But many other things remind me of how bereft we are as a community when we do not welcome and celebrate every person as being a valuable and valued part of us.

Last Sunday I loved seeing the incredible choirs from Spelman College and Morehouse College singing with the Tabernacle Choir for the broadcast. The diversity and variety of appearance, of voices, of movement in song, of the leaders, of the instruments, of the music itself was a glorious celebration of worshipping through song. There were times in my life when that kind of performance would and could not have happened, because far too many did not have room for a God who has room for all. When there is not room for that, we can’t begin to experience the immense possibility of this deep, rich, diverse, moving performance.

I have been singing in choirs nearly all my life. When I was a child, I would go with my mom when she went to choir practice. I would sit and draw while she sang, until I began to try to make sense of the music, and sing with her. I learned from her that altos are as important to the choir as sopranos. I learned from my dad that it is okay if you sing off key, as long as you are singing enthusiastically.

I sang in choirs all through school, and whenever there was a ward or community choir to join. Good directors taught me that breathing is important. Silent breathing, controlled breathing, circular, staggered, so many ways to provide the breath of life to the song. I loved learning how to coordinate breathing as a group, and how wonderful it was to perform as one voice, with many of us learning to blend and breathe and harmonize after much practice in singing as one unit.

But, of all the different performing choirs, congregational choirs are my favorite. This is where I practice seeing that all have a place, no matter what. 

When I am singing with my congregation, I see every one is needed. It does not matter if who is singing high or low, loud or soft, with expertise or for the first time, bored or moved to tears, mechanically or with deep worship, or just hanging out, singing or not, doing whatever they are doing, being whoever they are being. I am currently the sacrament meeting chorister for my ward. I get to look at the many ways anyone who is in the chapel is a part of the choir. Even the one person who is always a full beat behind my tempo, with his strong, enthusiastic voice. Even the one who seems to stare at me with what looks like disapproval. Even the 2 year old who is happily imitating my conducting (I can’t wait until she is ready to take over for me).

And one of the best things about the congregational singing – anyone can breathe whenever they want or need to. It doesn’t matter the tempo, or what the organist or chorister are doing. It doesn’t matter how strong or weak, or whatever you are feeling at the moment, you breathe when you need to. Even if you have to take a moment, or the entire song, and breathe, this is all part of being in the congregation. I have had many times in my life where I need to work to keep breathing, moment by moment. I am overwhelmed to think of the countless ways others, often from my congregation, have helped me continue on through those times.

Some of the talks in General Conference mentioned something like this. If you are preparing a talk or lesson or message that is not all about Christ’s Gospel of love, take a breath, step back, rethink what you are doing, and focus on a message of love. If you hear anything that makes you wonder if God loves you, no matter what – take a breath, take a moment, let yourself come back to the love of God. If you are not sure if you belong, take a breath, no matter where you are, no matter what those around you might be saying or doing, please let the love from God surround you, fill your lungs, and connect you to greater life.

Congregations are one way I have practiced singing and breathing in community, and where I have practiced seeing that there is a place for all there. It is one place where I have practiced seeing how rich we are with great diversity and variety, and how bereft we are when there are exclusionary boundaries that eliminate the experience of belonging for far too many. We are bereft. 

As I said, congregations are one way I practice. It is not the only way. This is a life where I am in many different communities, each with various relationships with humans. It is a part of the human experience to wrestle with boundaries, limits, and fear of new or different information. Learning to create space, room, belonging, inspiration, greater breathing, richer harmony – this is a practice to take on wherever I am. Some of the most beautiful music has dissonance and resolution.

Not every choir is yet ready to have the space for all God’s critters. The only way I really see that happening is when enough of those in the choir insist on making space. It is a practice to take on no matter where I am. No matter where any of us take our journey. At some point, we need to overwhelm the small, limited, weapon-filled, fearful, bereft spaces in the world with full, diverse, rich, complicated, grace-ful, expansive, inspiring breaths of voices as endless as God’s love – wide as all eternity.