Sing!

Advent begins tonight with the vigil Mass, and you know what that means:

Twenty-three shopping days until Christmas!

Moreover, it means that a lot of our friends who haven't been to church since Easter will start trickling back, and God bless them for it. When I was a young chap about town I would go to church once a week -- on Wednesdays, at lunch. I was trying to become a Christian, but I wasn't going to let that dictate my weekend plans. So honestly, not throwing stones here.

Catholics are pretty tough on these things; if you don't make the days of obligation, which include every single Sunday (or the Saturday vigil), that's a serious sin that requires Confession. In my pre-Catholic days I didn't know that, or much else, really. It's been a long journey.

But I didn't mean to write about that. What I meant to write about is SINGING!

I'm sure I've noted this before in this blog, but even in Advent when the hymns are often familiar Christmas tunes, northeastern Catholics hate to sing in church. That's mainly the case everywhere, though, not just in church. Not like church is different because we're belting out the Latin. For the most part, if you expect us northeast Catholics to do any public singing, we have to get our drink on and be dragged to karaoke, and even then there's a good chance we'll sneak out the door before our turn comes up at the mike. We look at Baptist services with a mixture of awe and horror. Look how faithful they are! Look how happy it makes them! Why aren't they dying of embarrassment? 

I guess we know that most of us don't sing particularly well, but really, it's no excuse. As one of our musical directors says, the Good Lord gave her that voice and she's gonna give it right back to Him. Of course, she sings like an angel, so it's not the best advice coming from her.

I've had compliments on my singing, which is really gratifying, but I'm still shy about the church singing. When no one else in your pew is warbling, you get self-conscious. Worse, I've been known (by me) to screw up the words even on things I know quite well, because of under- or overfocus. It's sad when my mouth trips right out of the gate, and I wind up spewing

O come all ye faceful
Troyful and trumpumpant
O come ye all come ye
To Bebblehem

And then I think of the poor late Linda McCartney, wife of Beatle Paul, who got caught out in 1990 on concert audio released by some sound guy connected with a Wings show. For you kiddies who don't remember Linda, or Wings, or the Beatles, let's just say that a lot of people used to accuse her of being a no-talent who would have been a nobody if she hadn't married Paul, and this audio track seemed to confirm it. Had the Internet been around then it would have been everywhere in a day. As it was, a lot of radio stations played it. I heard it because I listened to the Imus in the Morning show in those days, and they made a lot of hay out of it. (Remember their slogan: "We're not happy until you're not happy.") Here it is:

Paul McCartney's defense of Linda's substandard background vocals is that she was dancing, and he released video to show she was busy and not focused on vocals. No one's singing is great while they're running around.

But I think of that sometimes when I'm screwing up words to the Gloria or a standard hymn, or just singing like crap. Maybe my voice is blending with the other singers, but God sure hears me. I'd like to do a good job, but my mind wanders like a toddler in a toy store. Some days my voice sounds like I swallowed a frog and his croak got stuck on the way down. But I generally try to do my best, and I hope everyone else will too this year.

We used to have an old-timer in our church who could not sing a note, but it wasn't for lack of trying. He was awful, and he was loud. I thought he was fantastic. I still do.