But I’ve always liked musicians — my Sunday school teacher at the piano, the organist at church, famous entertainers with their guitars, voices on the radio and from records. They were like magicians. They seem to create ex nihilo, making beauty from things you couldn’t see and ultimately couldn’t hold.
That magic has always undone me. I don’t know what it is about sound that takes us to places we don’t know we need to go. I’m sure there are all sorts of scientific explanations for it. But the capacity of music to transport, transfix, transform, and transcend — all those transes! — is astonishing.
The conference wasn’t much different. Put me in a roomful of musicians and I’m instantly in awe. And something happens. I feel things that I didn’t know I needed to feel, unleash things that I didn’t know were bound.
It was emotional. I got pretty weepy. I said things in public I’d never said before. They pulled it from me, these musical friends and colleagues. Maybe, because of all the terrible things going on in the world, I needed them to help me touch courage, creativity, and pain anew.
On Thursday evening, we were treated to an intimate concert with Noel Paul Stookey, singer-songwriter who was part of the legendary folk trio, Peter, Paul, and Mary. (FYI: he has a new Substack called Strings.)
His familiar voice filled the small chapel — embracing the room with gratitude, wisdom, and love. As he sang, I realized that his voice had been with me during my entire life. The first two songs I knew by heart were Jesus Loves Me and Puff the Magic Dragon, and I’d sing both playing in the yard or sitting in a circle in the Sunday school at the Methodist church. The oldest songs, those first songs, sounded chords deep within. The sound brought forth memories, like images in an old Viewmaster, flashed across my mind’s eye. Something moved; something healed; something was made whole. Something I didn’t know was wounded.
Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the whole earth.
Sing to the Lord and bless his Name; proclaim the good news of his salvation from day to day!
Terrorists and tyrants always want to silence song. They don’t want creation’s music heard — the voices of God’s people to rise in hope and joy and praise. They shoot concertgoers, ban lyrics, boycott singers and troubadours, all in an effort to turn song toward themselves and make themselves god.
Song and salvation are of a piece. Hear the music of creation, the very heartbeat of heaven. Listen for the voice. Lift yours. May we all join our voices together. The world needs the old songs. And it aches for new ones.
-- Diana Butler Bass