At a recent rehearsal of the Columbus City Band I found myself reminding our French horn section about the importance of achieving a good unison sound.  We were playing a piece of music (American Overture for Band by Joseph Willcox Jenkins) which features the horn section in a lot of unison playing, some of it loud and fast moving.  It is easy, in those kinds of passages,  to think that you have to play as loud as you can but the secret to being heard as a section is to achieve a good unison sound which involves listening to the other players in your section and matching tone and articulation.  Most musicians will attest to the fact that in playing and singing, achieving a good unison sound is one of the most difficult things to accomplish.

As I think about the work that I do on a daily basis I realize that this is true with most groups I work with as well.  Many times in committee and team work individual voices stick out rather than trying to listen and meld into a unified direction and mission.  When we pull in many directions we are not likely to get much done.  It is in the pulling together that we really accomplish more than we can as a group of individual workers.  It seems simple but it is often hard to convince people to give up their pet project for the good of the  overall cause just as it is hard to convince a musician to give up their individual need to be heard to become part of a unified voice.  This is why entire books have been written about the dysfunctions of teams and how a leader can help people work together.

The wisdom writer puts it this way:  “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.   For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help.  Again, if two lie together, they keep warm; but how can one keep warm alone?  And though one might prevail against another, two will withstand one.  A threefold cord is not quickly broken.”  (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)

It is a mysterious reality that working together doesn’t just multiply our efforts, they increase exponentially.  It is equally mysterious that it is so often difficult to convince people of this reality, to get them to see another viewpoint long enough to share a common vision, to work together in unison.  Lest I seem to be looking down my nose at folks who can’t achieve this let me confess that I am just as guilty of promoting my own viewpoint as the next person.  I have, however, experienced the magic of a perfect unison just often enough to give me hope and to give me pause to reflect in those moments when I need to sublimate my desires to the good of a cause or the playing of a perfect melody. Because I have learned that the interweaving of sounds and the interweaving of effort has the potential to achieve something beautiful!

Last night I attended a concert by the Cleveland Orchestra.  Joshua Bell was the soloist in the Beethoven Violin Concerto and then the Orchestra played the Symphonie fantastique by the French composer Hector Berlioz.  It was probably one of the most amazing musical experiences I have had in my life and during the intermission I posted a comment about it on Facebook which ended by saying “Life is good.”  Afterwards, I was reflecting on that and I realized that this may be the first time in over two and a half years, since our son’s death, that I had even a brief time where I truly felt that life is good.  Such is the power of music!

I remember when I was teaching band and general music in central Illinois right after graduating from college, one of my sixth grade students asked me during a general music class, “Why do we have to learn this stuff?”  In his mid-west farming culture there didn’t seem to be much value in the intricacies of  sound for pleasure. I didn’t have a good answer for him then but if he asked me now I would tell him about last night.  About the ability of music to transport us emotionally to a better, happier place, even for a little while.  I am grateful for the many music teachers in my life who helped me become a better performer and also helped me be able to appreciate the beauty of what I experienced last night.

I have for quite some time been meaning to write about how therapeutic music has been for me these past few years – how much I value the art of it as well as the way that it can be a vehicle for the words of my faith. A few months ago I was reading something by Anne Lamott, one of my favorite writers, and she had a paragraph about singing hymns that really rang true for me. She writes:  “The hymns are bigger than any mistakes; you fumble around with the hymnal and sing the wrong words – you’re on the wrong verse but the hymn expands to make room for all these voices, even yours. We speak as a body; we have set the intent together, so rather than individual shrill cries or the drones of one crazy person, it’s a braid, stronger than each strand, something modest and plain, yet beautiful beyond words.” (Anne Lamott, “Some Assembly Required”)

It is the beauty of music that it can braid us together into something stronger than we are separately.  It is one of the reasons that I enjoy congregational singing. It is one of the reasons that sharing a musical experience in a filled auditorium with everyone literally holding their breath, straining to catch every note, can be such a wonderful experience. We are for a moment joined with one another, the  musicians, and the composer in a transcendent experience that really cannot be described. But it does the soul good.

And so, in the midst of a season of life in which I find every positive experience qualified by the grief that I live with, for one moment in time I was released from this present darkness and I could truly say, “Life is Good.”

Yesterday I did something that may seem anachronistic in our high tech mobile technology world. I drove five hours to Chicago to attend a meeting that lasted a little more than an hour and then I turned around and drove home. Yes, I could have done the meeting by Skype or maybe even by a conference call but let me tell you why I think that there are times when it is worth the effort to show up in person.

I spend a lot of time these days on the phone and more and more time on Skype. Since I have a job that covers a fairly large geographic area (14 counties) it is often more efficient if I can take care of business by electronic means. Factor in the fact that I work with nine other superintendents and a bishop that cover the entire state of Indiana and the logistics can become even more daunting. In that circle I am a proponent of using technology to our best advantage and often help my colleagues expand their use of technology for meetings that otherwise might require multiple people to spend hours in the car.

However, yesterday I made a ten hour round trip to attend a meeting. Why? Because there are times when technology cannot bridge the distance between us. There are times when there is no substitute for sitting in the same room and having a conversation where you can talk to another person face to face. Where you can evaluate their posture, the intensity in their eyes and flush of their face. Where a deep sigh doesn’t get lost in the filter of microphone limitations.

Yesterday’s meeting was important to me and at least part of my future. And so I made the effort. I showed up. And I can’t help but think the positive and productive meeting that we had was in part due to the fact that we were all in the same room sharing the same biological, if not cosmic, energy.

It was just a reminder to me to think about those times when I am tempted to “phone it in.” Sure, I might get things done from a distance and there are certainly occasions when that is the best use of my time. But there are moments when we need to show up, to be physically together in order to help one another along life’s journey.

I am a pastor so my thoughts often turn to church when these kinds of life lessons come along. It is easy these days to experience church without going to church. We can watch television programs but also we can experience “our” church through sermons and worship services on the Internet. There are times when that is probably a good thing. But we lose some things in that transaction and I think there are important things that happen when we gather together in the same room and share time and space. When the passioned plea for prayer is not filtered through my computer speakers but falls directly and intensely on my ears. When I can smell bread and wine as well as my neighbor’s perfume.

So, for all my excitement about electronic communication, in the end I still believe that there are times when there is no substitute for showing up, for the firm press of a handshake, for hugs, and experiencing each other’s presence. It is the final payoff of which electronic communication is just a promissory note.

This is the Columbus City Band playing at a somewhat strange outdoor venue in Seymour.

As we move into the summer it is easy to think about music played by bands and orchestras outside in band shells and other less hospitable venues. Okay, some of your thoughts may not go there but mine do.  As I begin my fifth summer playing with the Columbus City Band and my thirty somethingth summer playing summer concerts I am beginning to notice some trends.

First of all, if you are a French horn player summer band music takes you in a direction you don’t necessarily want to go – lots of marches! When my wife and I met and began dating, I told her I was a French horn player and her immediate response was, “Oh, that’s the um-pah instrument!” And during the summer she is mostly right. Horn players spend a good deal of time during the “J” months playing after beats (the “pah” in um-pah). It doesn’t exactly make one look forward to the summer repertoire. Still, there is some satisfaction in knowing that marches would not be the same without the sure foundation we help provide. It is one reminder that the routine work in life still has a place of importance even if it is not enjoyable all the time.

If I were to identify the piece of music that I have performed in my adult life more often than any other (excluding the Star Spangled Banner) I would have to go with “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”  Sousa. The bane of every horn player’s existence! Stars and Stripes is one of those pieces of music that I enjoy listening to but hate playing. Still, it is hard to argue with it’s appeal both as a piece of music and as a patriotic emblem. I’m not sure I have had a summer when I have not played it at least once and in most cases, multiple times.

Summer band playing also requires some other adjustments for me. Playing outdoors can be an interesting business with rain, heat, and mosquitoes ever present realities. Many years ago I bought a used horn with a few dents in it to use for outdoor concerts not wanting to risk damage to my good horn.  It serves me well, although it does have some interesting quirks and often needs some adjusting. Still, how much expertise do those after beats require?

So, this summer, like most summers will find me um-pahing along with my fellow horn players, waiting for the occasional John Williams medley to get some meaningful licks in. And while I will complain about all the marches, the reality is that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Sitting with good people, making good music, and enjoying the occasional festivity.  So, strike up the band and bring your lawn chair!

The last few weeks I have spent a good bit of time doing yard work. Mulch, rakes, pruners and hauling off yard waste have occupied my attention. After several days of this work I feel sore but satisfied at seeing the progress we were able to make. I did sprain an ankle while carrying bags of mulch but otherwise escaped permanent injury.  As I pause to step back and admire our work I feel a sense of accomplishment.  I am, however, struck by the overwhelming reality that yard work, like much of the work I do in life, won’t stay finished very long.

People often ask me how I like the work of the district superintendent and whether I miss pastoral ministry. I do miss local church work and hope to return to it when my time in my current position is finished. (I am currently beginning my sixth year of a maximum eight year term.) However, there are some things I have enjoyed about the superintendency. One is sitting with Michelle in church. I have also enjoyed having a break from the every week routine that is part of pastoring a local congregation. As soon as you finish a sermon one week the next week looms before you. You might be able to take a Sunday afternoon breather but it usually isn’t for long. Even if you have another pastor on staff and you have a break from preaching that week there are a myriad of other things, like Bible studies and committee meetings, that keep you from ever feeling like the work is done.

When I look at a freshly mown lawn, I can enjoy the sight and smell of completion. But I know the grass will grow, the weeds will encroach, and the work will need to be done again. And so, even while I admire its clean pressed neatness I brace myself against the inevitability that I will soon need to be out there on my knees pulling weeds again.  Every piece of yard work is a temporary victory. And yet, it also fits into a larger picture of having a nice yard. To judge that you have to step back and see the big picture over a period of time.

So it is in a lot of life’s work. The temporary victories, and defeats, fit into a larger picture – having a good life or enjoying a satisfying vocation. And every once in a while it is good to step back and look at that bigger picture to enjoy a sense of accomplishment. For a moment .  . . and then its back to work!

The view from our back deck.

This past weekend was Memorial Day weekend. Like many people in the United States we celebrated the holiday by being outside. For the past five years we have lived in a house on a lake.

There are some nice things about living on a lake. If you want to get out of bed and take an early morning swim you don’t have to go anywhere to do it.  Cruising around in a paddle boat can be relaxing and physically tiring at the same time.  Our lake is too small for motorized boats, so no skiing.

However, there are some adjustments we have had to make to living on a lake. There is a very active residents association which does put some restrictions on the properties fronting the lake. A significant one for us, having a medium sized dog, is the prohibition on having a fence.  In our case, living on the lake means abiding by rules that we have agreed upon such as agreeing to mow your grass clippings away from and not into the lake. Since we are at the end of the lake where everything collects we are appreciative of this rule. It is a microcosm of what it means to live in a democratic society as we live with some rules we don’t like and benefit from some others that may be inconvenient for our neighbors.

Probably the biggest adjustment for me, having moved from a house that has a very private back yard, is getting used to the fact that we have virtually no privacy in our back yard. As the yards all converge on the lake we are funneled together if we are outside on the lake. I can see clearly and completely a half dozen back yards from the chair in my living room in which I am writing this.

Robert Frost is often quoted as saying, “Good fences make good neighbors.”  Frost said those words in the voice of a character in one of his poems.  The irony is that, while many people have quoted Frost in support of the boundaries between us, the poem (Mending Wall) actually is questioning the need for artificial boundaries in our relationships. Frost seems to doubt that the New England reserve with which he grew up is really the best way to be a neighbor.

If you view the lake as an extension of our backyard then I share a backyard with the other 46 residents on the lake. It blurs the boundaries between our yard and theirs and between the privacy we normally would expect from one another.  I really don’t know if good fences make good neighbors.  I do know that living on a lake makes you cozy with your neighbors in a way that stretches my need for privacy sometimes. Occasionally, it draws me outdoors to enjoy the water. But sometimes, it pushes me inside, where I can enjoy the private quietude. Maybe water and walls make good neighbors – the ever negotiated balance between public and private in our lives.