I had only one condition for joining a choir. It can't interfere with my Sunday football. Thanks to PVR, so far, so good. I haven't missed a Packers game yet.
When my wife proposed I join a choir, I admit, I balked at the thought. My days of music were long past. You're talking about a guy who hasn't touched a piano in earnest since his only piano exam in 1991. I rarely listen to music on the radio and have no idea who most artists are, other than a few bands from the 1980s (I went through a brief head-banging phase). I like Johnny Cash, but that's all I care for country. I can sit through a symphony orchestra, but it's a battle.
I sang in a high school choir, so it's not like I'm tone deaf or can't hold a tune. I just haven't felt the need. It's a rare thing to have an urge to sing in a choir.
Being in a "mature" adult choir is a little different than in high school, but not much. The guys still goof off, while the girls "shush" them. Our choir director has to call us to attention at least five times a practice because of our incessant chatting. We even got reprimanded the day before our Christmas performance. Our very sweet, very understanding choir director gave us an ultimatum: we could either continue to ignore her conducting and be an embarrassment to our friends and family, or we could look up every now and then and sound somewhat respectable. Of course she said it in much nicer terms than my high school choir director would have – we are adults, after all – but it brought back such fond memories.
In the past, choirs used to be more popular. Almost every church had one. Coming
from a Mennonite background, to sing was the thing. If you didn't know
four-part harmony, some might question your heritage.
Today most evangelical churches sing songs in unison and most people wouldn't know what a tenor or alto is. It's a little sad, because as I've learned this past fall, there's something therapeutic about singing in a choir.
It was in September that I got a little down. Now usually I like September – the weather is still nice, the leaves are changing colours, harvest is underway, and football season is in full swing. What more could one ask for in life? But this year for some unknown reason I found myself in a funk (also a Mennonite name).
Then I went to choir practice. I kid you not, after one practice, it felt like I'd taken a couple Prozac (I'm guessing the effects are the same). It's choir therapy, I tell you, and there are no side effects, other than some minor irritation of the vocal chords.
I'm sure you've heard how music boosts brain development in children. Studies have shown that kids who play musical instruments are more academically advanced than kids who don't. There's also a psychological
effect; music has been shown to improve one's mood, reduce stress and
anxiety and even reduce the risk of heart disease. Endorphins play a role, giving your brain that natural high, similar to the effect of eating chocolate and exercising, among other things. It's that top-of-the-mountain kind of feeling.
It's the feeling we had after our Christmas concert. There's satisfaction in achieving something with a group. As kids, you get many opportunities to participate in teams and group activities, but as adults, these opportunities are far and few between. Most of us, myself included, don't realize the positive impact they can have on our well-being.
Not all of us can sing, and I certainly don't recommend any tone-deaf jocks joining our choir (we had a few of those back in high school). But if you can carry a tune and you're feeling kind of down, I have two words for you in the new year: choir therapy.
Merry Christmas!
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