Worship Arts July August September 2022

I was a soloist at a Disciples of Christ congregation on Sunday mornings, sang in a Reform Synagogue on Friday nights and Saturday mornings, and then directed the choir in a little interdenominational chapel on Sunday afternoons and evenings. All together, these three experiences influenced the priorities and shape of my vocation to this day – the weekly Lord’s Supper of the Disciples of Christ congre gation, the seamless tapestry of sung and spoken word in the Jewish liturgy as well as an interfaith awareness from singing in a synagogue, and then being broken in as a choral conductor by the choir in the country chapel. All of these were new worship environments for me, and the synagogue and country chapel sometimes tested my sense of vulnerability. It is the third of these that I want to focus on for a minute. The little chapel choir was my first experience as choral director. I had a phenomenal gospel organist who could play anything on that old Hammond organ. Our repertoire was almost exclusively gospel music, both black and white. It was a cross-cultural choir of Anglos and African Americans consisting of about 25 guys. This was the average size, but it varied a bit according to escapes and paroles. Oh yes, I left out one important aspect of this ministry – it was in a medium security prison outside of Louisville, KY. Danger in the prison The early 1970s were a volatile time in the cor rectional system in the United States. On September 9, 1971, two weeks after the killing of an inmate at San Quentin, 1,000 of the 2,200 inmates at the Attica Correctional Facility in New York seized control of the prison and held 42 staff hostage for four days. Negotia tions for improved conditions were held at the prison, but when not all the demands of the prisoners were met, state police stormed the facility, and tragically ten correctional officers and 33 inmates died. We sensed the unrest in the Kentucky correctional facility immediately. Choir rehearsals and services went on as usual, but things were not quite the same. I arrived for my regular Sunday afternoon rehearsal a few days later. The rehearsal was the last one before a special revival and we were working hard. At one point, I noted the guys seemed a bit restless and distracted. I was about ready to scold them when I glanced out the window and saw that the canteen on the yard was surrounded by men. It was being raided and set on fire.

A dangerous business Reflections on

the vocation of church musicians and artists by C. Michael Hawn

We are in a dangerous business. I learned this early in my music ministry, which began in three places simultaneously in 1970 during my first year of seminary.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________ 12 July-August-September 2022 • WorshipArts • umfellowship.org