Last Sunday, our church held what we call a celebration Sunday. That’s when we celebrate milestones in the church: baby dedications, baptisms, new church members, and the like. We tend to do this once a quarter. On this particular celebration Sunday, our Hispanic congregation worshiped with us. The worship team included people from both congregations. We sang familiar choruses and alternated between English and Spanish words. On one song we sang bilingually on the chorus. I attended the first service; most of our Hispanic congregation would attend the second service.

I’ve been in church services before with bilingual singing. In Schaffhausen Switzerland we attended church at our European Bible college, and all the singing was in German and English. In Hong Kong, up on the 21st floor of a high rise, at our Nazarene church, all the singing was simultaneously in Cantonese, English, and Tagalog. Both those times it wasn’t too hard to sing in your language so long as you really concentrated.

I must admit to having trouble singing in Spanish. Actually, I haven’t been singing much since returning to in-person church last September. Having the mask on restricts breathing for me, my face under the mask gets very hot, and so I don’t sing much at all. Also, they have been doing songs and choruses that I don’t know. I can usually pick up a tune easily, but some of these new ones I found very difficult to pick up. So I stand in reverence, may sing a little on a song I know, but otherwise remain quiet. On this day, with familiar songs, I tried to sing a little on the Spanish portions, but I just couldn’t get the words to fit the music, so I remained silent.

Then, I think it was on the second song, at some point the instruments went mostly silent and the singers sang. It was during one of the Spanish verses. The harmony coming from the worship team was beautiful. Since I knew the song, I knew what was being sung even though I couldn’t sing in Spanish.

Oh, but the harmony! How beautiful it was. I listened closely. The effect was the same as harmony in English. I remember years ago, during a choir practice near the Christmas season, we sang “Away In A Manger” for practice and the choir director had us all sing, without any score before us, and told us to sing in harmony. I hadn’t memorized the tenor part to the song, so I did the best I could to be a third above the lead, perhaps doing a little differently at some places as I thought would sound good. We did one verse like this, and the effect was wonderful. The choir director praised us. I think we did it again, but it wasn’t as beautiful the second time. The spontaneous harmony, without a printed score, with singers who knew how to sing and blend, was the best.

This got me to thinking about harmony versus melody, lead versus support, my own language versus another. The effect of harmony on me was the same in both English and Spanish. In fact, I might almost say it was greater in Spanish because, instead of concentrating on the words I was concentrating on listening to the tones—or maybe I should say tone, because a beautiful harmony calls attention to the whole rather than the parts.

It kind of happened unexpectedly. I didn’t think to myself, “Oh, I can’t sing here so let me just see how well they do with harmony.” No, I was silent, and it happened. The lead singer was singing the familiar song in Spanish, but I wasn’t hearing the lead except as its share of the harmony sound. I couldn’t listen to what words were being sung since I didn’t understand them. No, I just soaked up the harmony.

Maybe it can be that way in life, in families, in politics, among nations. Yes, someone’s got to be singing lead, but when the harmony is working right, who’s singing and what they are singing and what language they are singing in is almost inconsequential. The harmony is beautiful.

Now, I know nations don’t tend to harmonize. There seems to be no harmony in politics. In fact, life and families often don’t harmonize. How beautiful it would be if they did, however. Everyone is concerned with singing the melody, the lead, not wanting to play a supporting role, as those singing harmony parts do. So every politician is singing lead, there are no supporting voices, and the result is cacophony.  Sadly, this can also happen within the family.

I’ll continue to dream that widespread harmony in all areas of life would be a reality. That the discordance that comes from too many singing lead would yield the wonderful harmony of working together. One of my dreams.

Here’s a link to one of the songs from the service.