While each person is singing, they're undoubtedly having their own contemplative experience of the
words being sung. That's to be expected since everyone's inner experience draws from unique
histories and personalities. These unique experiences however do not detract from the sense of
unity in ensemble. If anything, sharing these experiences can deepen and strengthen the unity of
the monastic community and faith in the tradition in which it is seated. But that's after the music.
Communally well sung melodies create an aura of unity that is both physical and perceptual.
One of the goals in monastic life is to treat every act as prayer. To do every chore mindfully,
prayerfully and compassionately because the scope of every act goes beyond the personal to the
communal. The physicality of music brings the communal aspect to the fore. To sing in perfect
unison requires one to be sensitive, responsive and anticipatory of all the others. One needs to be
both leading and folllowing . . . correcting when necessary and always receptive to correction.
It's with this thought of a mind/body state induced by the act of creating music that I want to
look at Augustine's statement that music can instill deep feelings of devotion. The monastics aren't
putting on a concert. They're gathered for a period of communal prayer and contemplation. The music
they sing needs to be a music that physically mirrors the inner state of prayerful meditation through
which they can open themselves to interaction with the Eternal. The better the objective quality and
the less they have to think about it, the more bodily inducive to prayer the musical aura becomes.
This aura extends to anyone who's listening whether passively or actively. How actively we can
listen is relative to how much knowledge (experiential and intellected) we possess and/or desire
to accumulate. Again -- I'm not concerned with words ... just sounds. The fact that objectively
knowing what constitutes the peak quality of any of the structurally significant musical intervals
the world over is innate means that we can connect with any tradition's music so long as we
approach it with an open ear. The more we listen and/or study a specfic music the more deeply
we could be listening. But what would we gain by that?
We wouldn't gain an understanding of any faith's tenets or essence. All we'd stand
to gain is a feel for how they approach and relate to the Eternal on a visceral level.
Entering into and participating in another's prayerful state is not a violation of
one's own beliefs, conceptions or perceptions. It's not however, just another avenue
through which to reflect on and refract what we already hold in our hearts. Engaging
in another's music offers a lens into our shared humanity. Having a feel for the internal
state by which 'another' seeks communion with the Eternal gives us an empathetic foothold
from which to begin sharing our joint contemplative experiences. And all from the tone of voice.
Recordings can help us gain familiarity, but as with all music
nothing beats direct personal experience. The same is true for
monastic traditions. We can read about them in books, but unless
we 'live some time' within the tradition, they're only words.
The catch to "music as a vehicle toward unity" is that is must
be very well intoned music. Quality is what transcends semantics
and is where we can connect across cultures and across traditions.
That's as true for those singing in the choir as it is for those
listening to the choir. Music education and rehearsals in monasteries
should not be reserved for a schola or cantors or choir directors. It
needs to be incorporated into formation and extended into regular practice
not to turn monastics into better musicians, but better pray-ers with
a greater range of hospitality and engagement with guests of all faiths.