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Of Grace and Sippy Cups: Praise, not pride: Learning to sing at Mass
January 13th, 2010
By Ginny Kubitz Moyer
“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord,” the Psalms exhort us. Earlier in my life, I never had a problem doing this. When I was a kid, I adored the songs we sang at Mass – “City of God,” “Sing to the Mountains,” “Here I am, Lord.” Dressed in my blue school uniform, I’d lift my voice with great vigor, joyfully, one of many happy little singers in the pews.
And then, as a teenager, I fell silent. Mass became a time to listen mutely to the choir and to try, at all costs, to hide my vocal shortcomings. Singing would only expose my flat tones and pathetic eight-note range to the people in the pews around me, who would be sure to hear me because they weren’t singing, either. For several years, well into my twenties, I was resolutely silent.
I might still be treating Mass like my own personal concert, were it not for a priest I encountered some years ago. I’ll call him Father Moe. He, like most priests, wore a microphone, but here’s the thing: he didn’t turn it down during the singing. His voice dominated the church, and it was – I must be honest here – pretty awful. It was nasal and flatter than week-old soda.
But the more I heard Father Moe, the more something shifted in me. I went from vicarious embarrassment to real admiration for him. He, unlike me, was engaging fully in the Mass. He was earnest and sincere – not out to impress, just to praise. And that struck me.
As a mom, now, I think about this often. There’s a larger issue here, the issue of how I deal with my own imperfections. Truth is, if I only did things that I know I can do brilliantly, I’d have a pretty impoverished life. I’d probably never have become a writer, never have re-engaged with the Church after my lapsed phase; heck, I’d probably never have become a mom. Sure, I’ve gotten better at those things with time (something I can’t say about my singing). Still, I think it’s extremely important that I lift my voice during Mass.
You see, one of my great realizations of the past few years is that when it comes to praise and prayer, I don’t have to be a pro. Period. My atonal singing is a gift to God – something that God surely cherishes as much as I love my son’s squiggly crayon pictures. Matthew could present me with a hand-drawn Mona Lisa, and it wouldn’t mean any more to me than the barely recognizable picture of my husband that he drew with such sweet concentration. Nothing touches a parent more than seeing the earnest efforts of their children.
So at Mass, if I’m not busy chasing a toddler down the aisle, I always sing. I sing happily and earnestly and not very melodiously. And when I do, I can sense that God is smiling: not at me but with me, taking delight in my imperfect but joyful noise.
Ginny Kubitz Moyer is the author of “Mary and Me: Catholic Women Reflect on the Mother of God.” Contact Moyer at www.blog.maryandme.org.
From January 15, 2010 issue of Catholic San Francisco.
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