Go Forth: Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart...

I am in the University of Notre Dame Folk Choir. That phrase still sounds surreal, even when I roll it around in my mouth a bunch and say it in different voices and watch myself recite it in the mirror.

This is my first semester as an active member in the choir. And what a joyful rollercoaster ride of an experience it has been! Despite the fact that I have always had a passion for music and singing, I had never been in a choir prior to this year. I had never been instructed about tone and pitch and voice parts. I had never not sung the melody.

In a typical mixed gender choir, there are four voice parts: bass and tenor for the men and alto and soprano for the women, in ascending order of high pitch. As an alto, I occupy the lower range of the female voice parts. The sole role of my voice part, I have discovered, is to make the sopranos sound good.

My time in choir so far has been a humbling experience, to say the least. In addition to admitting that I really have no idea what I am doing in a technical sense, I have needed to learn to hang back in most songs as the three lower voice parts – bass, tenor, and alto – work together to create beautiful harmonies that make the melody voices – the sopranos – shine. At first, I’ll admit, this was a frustrating process. I struggled with a great deal of anxiety at the beginning of the semester regarding whether I had what it took to be a contributing member of the Folk Choir. Take from my heart, take from my heart, take from my heart all painful anxiety. Lord fill my heart, Lord fill my heart, Lord fill my heart with your peace.

Photo by Matt Cashore

But besides realizing that I do not sing the melody, I have also come to understand that it’s not about making certain people or certain voice parts in the choir sound “good.” It is about working together as a cohesive team to create a beautiful sound. It is about music ministry. In fact, it’s not about the Folk Choir at all. It is about the folk. And it's about faith.

This reality is modeled through our position in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. We sing from a loft positioned above and behind the congregation, up near the ceiling. The paintings of angels and saints all over the ceiling and walls of the Basilica help to remind me weekly what our choir is there for: to invite the congregation to enter into the song and prayer of the saints and angels. Our mission is to join our prayer with those of the heavenly hosts by modeling Christian joy through our song. The music of the Folk Choir invites the community gathered each week at Mass to sing out desire, love, and gratitude for the Eucharist, together. Bread for the world: a world of hunger. Wine for all peoples: people who thirst. May we who eat be bread for others. May we who drink pour out our love.

One of my most powerful experiences in the choir so far was at the very beginning of my time in it, during the Mass over Welcome Weekend for all incoming freshmen and their families. As our choir of sixty led an entire basketball arena worth of brand-new Notre Dame family members in song, it hit me that it didn’t matter what my voice part was or if I was getting all the notes perfectly correct yet (I had been to two rehearsals in total). What mattered was my ministry of presence: my smiling, teary-eyed face that welcomed freshmen and their families into the Notre Dame family. My joy-filled song mattered. All are welcome…all are welcome…all are welcome in this place. My gratitude for the opportunity simply to be there, singing alongside some of the most joyful people I had ever met, mattered.

My daily desire to let the prayer in my heart burst forth in song matters.

The Folk Choir not only accompanies people at 11:45 a.m. Sunday Mass each week, but also at weddings, funerals, and everything in between. By November of my first semester, I have already had the privilege of offering my presence through music ministry at a whole range of occasions.

My first experience performing in front of people was with Folk Choir at our annual Concert for the Missions this October. I grew up playing piano and saxophone and public speaking in various contexts, but had never been part of such a prolonged performance prior to this concert. Having the opportunity to share our music with all of the smiling faces in attendance filled my heart with joy. We sang from risers on the altar of the Basilica, looking out over the congregation. My life goes on in endless song… The concert benefits Holy Cross missions around the world. ...Above earth’s lamentations… I kept glancing up at the empty loft, where we normally sing for 11:45 a.m. Mass every Sunday. …I hear the real, though far-off hymn… This isn’t about us!, I exclaimed internally after a few songs. Why are they looking at us and applauding for us? This is about God! …That hails a new creation. Singing in the Concert for the Missions taught me the value of providing passionate music ministry. The people in the audience were there to support the Folk Choir as a ministry, and to contribute to the Holy Cross missions. Their applause was not praise for our singing, but rather gratitude for our mission. How can I keep from singing? Our song illuminated our inner faith, and we invited those in attendance to enter into the song with us.

Photo by Matt Cashore
Concert for the Missions 2015

I had the opportunity to sing at the wedding of a beautiful couple two weeks ago. From my place in the loft, I tearfully watched as the groom welcomed his bride to the altar and greeted her father. We witnessed their exchange of vows that indicated the start of a lifetime of commitment to loving one another. In your company I’ll go, where your love and footsteps show. Thus I’ll move and live and grow in you, and you in me. We offered joy through our song, which helped family and friends of the bride and groom to more fully express their joy through the song we invited them into.

This past week, the Notre Dame community received a devastating email: a member of the junior class, Jake Scanlan, passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. The Folk Choir was asked to sing at his memorial Mass on Thursday. The sheer number of people – friends, family, and members of the community – who gathered together at his memorial was absolutely astounding. Come, all you blessed ones, blest of a loving God, enter into the joy prepared for you. In a situation where there was nothing much to say, nothing much to do, we had something to give. Jesus lives: to him the throne over all the world is given; may we go where he is gone, rest and reign with him in heaven. Alleluia. We offered hope through our song, and invited all those gathered in the overflowing church to sing. Once again, the lyrics of the Folk Choir repertoire helped to put words to the songs in our hearts - even when not much else made sense.

Music ministry is an incredibly humbling privilege. It is not about the beauty of an individual’s voice or the talent with which they produce sound by vibrating their vocal cords. It is about the bringing together of community, the ritual of celebrating together and mourning together and experiencing everyday mundane life together. It is a joyful occasion to sing at weddings, a sobering privilege to offer the ministry of musical presence at funerals, and an honor to witness to the genius and hope of our faith through music at weekly Mass.

Hallelujah, my Father, for giving us Your Son,
Sending Him into the world to be given up for us,
Knowing we would bruise Him and smite Him from the earth,
Hallelujah, my Father, in His death is my birth.
Hallelujah, my Father, in His life is my life.

The music of the Folk Choir has become the soundtrack to my faith life, because it has given me words with which to voice the song in my heart. I am humbled and grateful for my new family and community in song. We are a choir for the people, by the people. We exist to celebrate, witness, accompany, and bring hope and joy. Come and See.

…Such a joy as none can move; Such a love as none can part; Such a heart as joys in love.