Voice

Last week's sermon was awesome, in every sense of the word. The woman that gave it let me post an extract here.

On an earlier trip to Wales, we’d attended a small chapel on a Sunday evening for a hymn sing. By the end of the evening, the director’s jacket was tossed over a chair, his tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. Mopped his face with a large, white handkerchief. We’d sung through all the old favourites and it was time for the final song: Guide me O thou Great Jehovah.

We started the last verse low and quiet: When I tread the verge of Jordan, bid my anxious fears subside, then voice swelling, gathering momentum: death of death, or hell’s destruction, bring me safe to Caanan’s side. Finally, swelling into the jubilant chorus: Songs of praises, songs of praises, I will ever give to thee—then a long sweet pause before the repeat, I will ever give to thee. Twice more we sang the chorus, slower, stronger, until every voice was strained to the utmost, the tenors carrying us aloft, bases anchoring. We’d left the chapel hoarse and jubilant, smiles stretched across our faces, ears ringing.

Twelve years had passed since then. I’d always hoped to attend another hymn sing and was looking forward it. By now, the last few people had squeezed into crowded pews. The conductor waved us to our feet; we opened our leaflets and the festival began.

The first song [was not] a favourite, and yet, as the harmonies enveloped me, my chest contracted, my shoulders heaved, and tears coursed down my cheeks...I could not stop my shoulders from shaking. When the song ended, I sank, exhausted, into the pew. It was not the hymn itself that had brought on the tears: I cannot sing. My left vocal chord is paralyzed, has been for over seven years. And sometimes, quite unexpectedly, that thought of what I’ve lost still aches.

In a mystery by Tony Hillerman, Jim Chee, a young Navajo police officer, arranges a healing ceremony for a woman suffering from terminal cancer. Later, Chee was asked, Well, was the woman cured? No, of course not, he answered. She was dying. But although she wasn’t cured, she was healed...

There is no cure for vocal chord paralysis, but non-the-less, I am being healed. It’s not a fast or easy process, and it may never be complete, but it’s happening. Healing, not curing, is the miracle.

Her talk was about her actual voice, the power of music and singing, but it was also about our own voices, and about healing, not curing. Learning to use the voice we have. She included the playing of this song sung by KD Lang, a perfect choice.