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A
ministry that raises questions
For many, the task
of ministry should be about proclaiming clarity. In other words, people
of faith often ache for reassurance about who God is and what our response
should be along the journey. While service to God’s people should certainly
reveal the presence of God’s activity in our lives, we also need to ask
questions and to probe the events that enter into our existence. When we
plow deeply through the Gospels, we discover that Jesus’ teaching and ministry
were constantly challenging, baffling, and, at times, somewhat aggravating
to the disciples and others who encountered him. He was constantly forcing
people to face the truth, leading them to honest faith and an authentic
sense of hope. Jesus’ unique way of revealing the mystery of God was to
present his message with stories and parables and challenges that were
filled with questions and moments of puzzlement. Time after time, the disciples
and others pose direct questions to Jesus, and he almost never responds
with a similar sense of directness. Jesus usually answers his questioners
with something like “Let me ask you a question” or, more frequently,
“Let me tell you a story.”
Questions are at
the center of following Jesus, and they abound for those who encounter
him, his behavior, and his actions:
“Who then is this
whom even wind and sea obey?” (Mk 4:41b).
“Why do you seek
the living one among the dead?” (Lk 24:5).
Even today, people
of faith who come to pray Sunday after Sunday have these very same questions
and more: “Why would God allow this to happen?” “Where is Jesus in the
midst of our struggles?” “Why am I so blest?” “Why does God never give
up on me?”
Ministers of music
should not be afraid of such questions, and our music, especially our texts,
should not avoid such ambiguities. Our music and our worship should engage
and even celebrate these questions and doubts. These are the questions
and doubts of all who believe. Belief is not the absence of doubt but,
more profoundly, a path in which our doubts can be honored, reverenced,
and even named as holy. Our sung prayer should serve as a language for
believers to express this important aspect of our faith. If we believe
that our call is to help people sing the absolute and knowable, then why
should we bother to sing at all? We sing because we need to. We sing because
there are piles of questions that fill our heart and soul. We sing because
there is a power greater than ourselves who we hope and believe is truly
listening. We sing because we want to. The amazing and puzzling love of
God, which we sometimes hang on to by the end of our fingernails, gives
us the courage to seek out answers that may never come. There is nothing
wrong with “singing” our wonderment about who God is. It is the responsibility
of music in our prayer to echo what we have heard in the questions and
stories of the Scriptures. It challenges us to ask new questions:
How shall I sing
to God,
when life is filled
with gladness,
loving and birth,
wonder and worth?
I’ll sing from the
heart,
thankfully receiving,
joyful in believing.
This is my song,
I’ll sing it with love.
How shall I sing
to God
when life is filled
with bleakness,
empty and chill,
breaking my will?
I’ll sing through
my pain,
angrily or aching,
crying or complaining.
This is my song,
I’ll sing it with love.
How shall I sing
to God
and tell my Savior’s
story:
Passover bread,
life from the dead?
I’ll sing with my
life,
witnessing and giving,
risking and forgiving.
This is my song,
I’ll sing it with love.
(Brian Wren, “How
Shall I Sing to God?” © 1986 Hope Publishing Company. All rights reserved.)
We do more than provide
a musical comfort zone for people to give lip-service to a faith they often
do not understand. We are given the responsibility to help God’s people
sing our wonderments, our spiritual cravings, and the basic questions that
haunt us regardless of how “strong” we may be in our faith. How shall we
sing to God? By being truthful we must ask the hard questions, the questions
that matter even if we do not always like the answers or receive no answer
at all.
ML
David Haas is director of The Emmaus Center for Music, Prayer and
Ministry and campus minister and artist in residence at Benilde-St. Margaret's
High School in St. Louis Park, Minn. As a composer, he has published and
recorded more than 35 collections of liturgical music. He is an active
author, workshop and retreat leader, pastoral musician and recording artist.
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