Imagine a world with no music. Imagine how empty, how drained of life and energy it would be. To be sure, there is value in silence as well, and there are times that our lives are so filled with background music and noise that a meditative silence is a most welcome respite. But then to be unable to return to a pulsing and music-enriched life would eventually become intolerable for most of us.

As Bruno Nettl said in one of our readings, “We do not consider music to have a single main function except for being music, but we feel we cannot live without it.” Our brains are wired for music as much as they are for language and speech. There is music in every culture, and music is a part of almost every expression of religion. Music has the power to stir our emotions, to give us a sense of meaning, to help us mourn or rejoice, to express our identity, to bind us together in community, to guide our choices and actions, and even to change the world. How can we keep from singing?

I have never experienced a world without music, but a few years ago, I did experience a car without music. By some odd coincidence, my old car speakers in Mississippi stopped working on September 11, 2001. The last sound I heard from the radio of that car was a news report that a commuter jet had apparently crashed accidentally into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York. Some wavering electrical connection finally failed, and I never got it fixed until I traded the car in about a year later. I drove around the state of Mississippi a lot for my job, and I could no longer listen to tapes, CDs or the radio as I normally liked to do. I drove for many hours in silence. At first the silence was maddening, and then I became used to it and often found it peaceful. Then, unbidden and unplanned, the music began to flow.

As a child, I had taken piano lessons for a few years, and I sometimes wrote little songs for the piano, occasionally with lyrics. I had not written anything new for many years. But while driving in my car in silence, at least half a dozen new songs came into my head, which I remembered and wrote down at home. Some of them were pensive and reflective. (“Where is truth? Resting softly on my pillow? Or out there, beyond the farthest star that I can see?”) Others were joyful and rousing. (“Alleluia! Alle- Alleluia! Alleluia! Oh, let the song rise up from deep within you! Wake up and say it’s a glorious day, Alleluia!”) All of the songs, I noticed, had something to do with Unitarian Universalist religion or ministry.

At the time, we had no plans in our family for big changes in our lives. We loved our home, my wife had a good job, and my work in nonprofit management was very successful, even though it meant I had put off my plans for UU ministry for more than a decade. When other issues the next year led us to think about the possibility of moving, the message of the songs in the car was clear. It was time to move on, time to fulfill the dreams I had delayed. That’s the kind of power music can have.

Now, those songs may not exactly have been masterpieces, and few of them have ever been heard outside my own home or car, but even the earlier songs I wrote had a useful function in my life. Not only did they express different emotions; they could also help shape my emotions. I found that if I felt angry or sad, I could sit down at the piano and play angry or sad songs, and then move on to more peaceful or cheerful pieces. By the time I got up again, my mood would be changed. It was a kind of music therapy, and it can still work for me today.

This is not all music can do. In some cases, music can literally be a form of therapy, a healing power that may reduce the intensity of pain, help premature babies with their development, and improve mental functioning of people with schizophrenia or those who have suffered strokes. Music can certainly improve quality of life. A story in the Boston Globe told of Dan Ellsey, severely disabled from cerebral palsy, but able to cope better with his condition and find joy through a computerized system that allows him to compose music. Even for people who cannot hear, the vibrations of music and the feelings of rhythm can be meaningful. While there are limits to the physical healing that music can bring, there is no doubt that it can often bring great healing to the spirit, and sometimes to the body as well.

And of course, it isn’t necessary to write music in order to experience the therapeutic power of music. Think about all the music you listen to, and what feelings different kinds of music can evoke. What music brings out the best in you? Choosing to listen to the kind of music that will help you feel more as you wish to feel is a simple but effective form of self-therapy.

It’s puzzling why certain combinations of vibrations in the air should affect our emotions so much, but they do. With or without words, certain pieces of music can lift us up or calm us down. Music can rouse us to action or help us fall asleep. The emotional cues of music are so strong that nearly every movie has a soundtrack with music in the background helping shape the mood of every scene. Music can also help us remember, which is why advertising jingles often use music and not just words. In fact, these jingles can be so effective that we can’t get them out of our heads, and we walk around humming annoying or inane phrases like, “Free credit report dot com!” or “Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer weiner….” Some music should be a little less effective. Ads and filler music rarely have spiritual depth, so silence really can be a gift that enhances the value of the music we choose.

Music can be very evocative, sometimes reminding us of a place or time—perhaps a certain generation or a different culture. Even our earliest memories of childhood can sometimes be evoked by lullabies—do any of you recognize “Tu ra lu ra lu ra”, or “Swing low, sweet chariot”? I see a few smiles of recognition.

In contrast, other music can make us move our bodies irresistibly. (“Everybody dance now! Bmp, bmp, bmp bmp…” --OK, Enough of that!) But it’s true that music can be powerfully sensual or suggestive, and for this reason some religious leaders have been suspicious of music, from some of the more uptight Protestants to the Ayatollah Khomeini, who called music a treason that should be replaced with something instructive. Yet all music is part of the rhythm of life, and music can also bring us the most sublime of religious experiences. Whether celebrated or condemned, from rock and roll to the Ave Maria, there is no denying the power of music to move us, inspire us, or even heal us.

Choosing what music we listen to is one way to harness the power of music, but there is another dimension to the power of music that goes beyond individual experience. Thanks to modern technology, we have more access and choice in music than ever before, but i-pods and headphones can disconnect us from each other even as we are connecting to our music of choice. The power of music moves to a new level when it is a communal experience. Whether in a dance hall or in Sunday morning worship, there is something very powerful about a whole group of people sharing the same musical experience, hearing the same sounds and having some of the same feelings at the same time. Perhaps nothing else is more effective than music in bonding a community together and expressing its identity. Because building community and connecting people even across differences is one of the purposes of religion, music is not peripheral to religious community—it is often touches the core.

As a result, people in religious congregations generally care a lot about music, and while it can provide unifying experience, it can also be the subject of intense disagreement. We bring our individual histories and preferences with us into a community like JUC, so an old, familiar hymn may be deeply comforting to one person, but either unfamiliar or a painful reminder of a difficult religious past to someone else. Many traditional Protestant tunes are still a part of our primary Unitarian Universalist hymnal, to the pleasure of some and the displeasure of others. There are also newer songs and music from other cultures in both hymnals. It’s worth becoming familiar with the contents of our hymnals, and I hope you’ll go to a session on exploring our hymnals led by Sarah Billerbeck later this spring.

Our two hymnals are called “Singing the Living Tradition” and “Singing the Journey” for a reason. Our music is meant to harness continuity, but also to be dynamic and to change over time. It’s good to get to know some songs so well that we can sing them without even picking up a hymnal. Songs like “Spirit of Life” have become familiar in that way to many congregations. But it is also important to open ourselves to the new music that is being created all the time. Our closing song today, “Fire of Commitment” is one of those songs written just for Unitarian Universalism, and a piece filled with energy and rhythm. Our services are enriched both by classical music inherited from the centuries, and by music played or sung here for the first time. There is a place for meditative and even mournful music, and there is a place for music that makes us want to dance for joy. Music can create a sense of belonging, and children who know our music are more likely to stay with us as adults. It also helps when the words we sing reinforce the theme of a service, and we don’t have to mumble through words we don’t believe, but it is music that really holds us.

Not everyone will like everything we do musically, but I have to say, I believe we are blessed by our music program here at JUC, with our excellent choir, the ringers, the children’s choirs, the many other musicians and singers who offer their talents, all led by our Minister of Music Keith Arnold. Keith, I’d like it if you would stand and let us express our appreciation to you and to all the people in our music program at JUC. (Applause) And of course, as incoming President of the national UU Musicians Network, Keith is now in a position to help our whole movement. (No pressure, Keith!)

Now, even though I just encouraged applause—appropriately, I think—I should acknowledge that there are good reasons for applause not to be routine after music during our services. Our music is not primarily a performance, dividing us into performers and audience. Instead, it is an expression of our whole congregation, even when only some of us are producing the music. Whether understood as making a joyful noise to God or simply creating a shared space that is sacred or set aside from other times, applause can be jarring in a service, especially after peaceful music.

Now, I do have to admit, I had a newcomer say to me recently, “I love JUC so far, but I have to ask you one question. What’s this?” (Rub hands together.) My understanding is that the practice of rubbing hands was introduced by Peter after he first arrived here, perhaps originating with Jaco ten Hove, as an optional way to express appreciation without breaking into applause after every piece of music. Someone else told me they thought it sounded like locusts, but I’ve also heard favorable comments, and on the whole I think it’s a good option. Of course, we’re still going to applaud when the children perform, or when an unusually good and rousing piece of music demands it, but I like the idea that all of our music is an expression of who we are as a congregation, not a performance to an audience.

That also means everyone is welcome to participate in our music. Now, if you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I think Keith would appreciate it if I don’t ask you to join the choir, but when we sing as a congregation, there is no obligation, certainly, but you are always welcomed and encouraged to join in. In the words of an old Sesame Street song, “Don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear, just sing, sing a song! La la la la la la, la la la la la la, la la la la la la la.” Join in! (repeat). OK, maybe Keith would have done that better. But making any music together can be powerful, and I’d bet a lot of us could sing better than we think we can if we just let ourselves. Learning to sing or play an instrument with others can be deeply fulfilling, and this is one of the gifts of a good music program.

Nevertheless, as valuable as both personal and congregational music may be, there is yet another dimension to the power of music. Music helps us fill all three parts of our mission at JUC: We can nurture each other and our congregation through music; we can grow Unitarian Universalism by continuing to develop and share our musical tradition; and music can help us transform the world outside our walls. This transformative power in the world is the other dimension music brings.

In a world full of conflict and misunderstanding, music can cross cultures far more easily than words or language ever will. When we share our music with others and listen to theirs, we take a step toward understanding and peace. As spoken by Paul Hindemith, “People who make music together cannot be enemies, at least not while the music lasts.”
There is something inherent about the beauty of music, or any of the arts for that matter, so art reinforces our affirmation of inherent worth and dignity in human life. While music from other places or times may seem strange at first, exposure to different music can do as much as anything for cross-cultural understanding and the possibility of peace.

Music has also been a driving force in movements for social justice, especially movements of empowerment that bring many people together. There has been power in social justice music from John Brown’s Body in the abolitionist cause to Bread and Roses in the labor and women’s movements, to the songs of the sixties in the civil rights and peace movements. Just think of the power of the promise of this familiar song: “We shall overcome (please join in!), We shall overcome! We shall overcome some day! Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome some day.”

Many of our hymns and songs have themes of peace, social justice, hope, and care for our planet. When music connects us beyond our walls, it can serve as an expression of solidarity for justice, connection across cultures, or hope for a better world. It is just one example that many congregations around the world are singing Dona Nobis Pacem (grant us peace) this month, five years after the attack on Iraq, and we are joining in that song today. It’s a song I love myself, by the way. It was in my wedding and I sang it as a lullabye to my children.

Music has power to inspire and move and heal us personally. What music do you want to choose for your own life? Or when is a creative silence what you need the most? Music can nurture community, bind us together, and lead us to growth and change. What music do we wish to choose to shape our community and our movement? Sometimes, music even has the power to change the world. What music will help us get there? Let us choose our music wisely, deeply and with joy, so that that our music may bring peace and healing, lighting in us a fire of commitment, and inspiring us to create a better and more beautiful world for all.

May it be so.