(this post is the second in a series about my experiences at General Assembly in Salt Lake City. General Assembly is the Unitarian Universalist Association’s annual meeting, held in a different city every year. Stay tuned for further updates throughout the summer.)
Thursday morning I find myself singing with Ysaye Barnwell of Sweet Honey and the Rock! OK, there were well over a hundred of us in the room, so I had some help harmonizing with the Grammy-award winning singer and composer. Dr. Barnwell is a member of All Souls UU church in Washington, DC, and she was leading us all in a good old-fashioned sing-a-long. The group was split into four sections. I sat in tenor, which I believe is the internationally recognized choir section for men who don’t know what the heck their voice is supposed to be.
We sounded good. The basses sounded even better: full, rich and strong. Ysaye had each of the sections singing the lead on different songs, brilliantly coaxing singers, many of whom were as nervous about their abilities as I was, into a position of leadership. She did this quickly, with humor and chutzpah, launching into one song after another, repeating sections for us until we all had it right together. She had us listening carefully to each of the other sections, learning from them how our part fits in with their part. It was a beautiful experience to hear songs come together like that, to work together for a common goal that sounds as good as it did, in just a few minutes, filling up a room with beauty. It turns out UUs can sing, who knew? (we didn’t have hymnals, so we couldn’t read ahead to see if we agreed with the words, which helped).
Every song has a story, and Dr. Barnwell honored each song by sharing something of its origins and history with us. One particular tune I remember, (which I believe was from Zimbabwe?), was written many years ago in response to a time of hunger. The tune was a way of giving people hope, something they could put their energies into to lift the spirits of the people in a difficult time. After we sang the tune in its original language, Ysaye updated it and localized it: she changed the words to “we want voting representation”, in honor of all of our countrywomen and men who reside in Washington, DC, and are denied the right to elect their own officials. Over three million people live in Washington DC, and as we all know, the city has not been well served over the years by the policy of denying them representation.
That was just one song. In a stirring ninety minutes, we tried our voices on many. Most impressive, for me, was how relatively effortless it seemed to learn so many songs so quickly. Ysaye pointed out why this was – we were not learning the songs in a Western choir style but in a more African style. Instead of the leader teaching each section separately, and then putting it all together, and conducting the arrangement, Ysaye inspired us to learn from each other with careful listening and reacting, in a sense we were conducting each other. Our leader didn’t require every piece of instruction to come directly from her – instead, she gave us the tools to learn from the other sections. It was a different model of teaching than the European model, which has tended, historically, to favor “I teach, you learn”. Because of that, we were able to sing better and more naturally.
This workshop was definitely about more than just music. Though the music was definitely the heart of it. How often do you get to sing ten songs with Ysaye Barnwell, and dozens of other UUs, before lunch?
read comments (0)
I love GA. I’ve gone to the General Assembly of Unitarian Universalist congregations for four years in a row now, and five years overall. I never planned on attending four years in a row. In fact, every autumn, I tell myself that the next June will be the year I skip GA, that I’ll take a year off from the hustle and bustle of workshops and Plenary.
Then spring rolls around, and by March I’m counting off the weeks until GA.
Why do I love GA? Well, the chance to see another city is a part of it. These last four years I’ve been very fortunate to see St. Louis, Portland, Ft. Lauderdale, and now Salt Lake City. I travel infrequently enough – or am just enough of an inveterate traveler, maybe – that the prospect of boarding a plane and heading to a foreign land still thrills me. Salt Lake City did not disappoint, the majestic mountains visible from the plane and surrounding us all week. (A friend and colleague of mine called the mountains out here “God’s country.” Which makes New Jersey what, “man’s country?”)
GA is also a very productive time for me, work-wise. I attend all kinds of stuff, from church administration discussions to worship services that get my inspirational juices going for planning next year. As with conferences anywhere, there’s a good deal of meeting and mingling. Normally I stay busy from dawn to well after dusk, my introvert nature superseded by a million UU things I hate to miss going on every moment. This year, Abbey came with me – our last trip before the baby, knock on wood – and I learned quickly to slow down the pace.
But the main reason I love GA is the same reason so many love their congregation: the people. There’s the people I know, colleagues and congregants who I haven’t seen in months in years and who warm my heart upon seeing them again. And there’s the people I don’t know – yet – hundreds, thousands of Unitarian Universalists who love this faith as much as I do, who have lived lives in pursuit of justice and truth, and in spite of setbacks and missteps along the way, have refused to give up hope. There were about 3,500 Unitarian Universalists in Salt Lake City, I believe, and to be one of that tribe is quite a delight. It may not quite be the beloved community – and yet, come to think of it, it is a temporary community the size of a small town that is brought together, more or less, by the transforming power of love. You just don’t see that every day, and once you’ve been to one, you remember it.
I’d love for me people to be able to afford the expense and time to go, so they could afford GA. There’s a “Fifth Principle Task Force” that is looking into ways to make General Assembly more democratic, rather than just being a collection of those who have the resources to be able to attend. We do need to change things, so it’s not the same 3,500 people year after year. That would allow more of the “GA electricity” to flow through our congregations, as more people are energized by the gathering and come back home with ideas and support.
I’ll be sharing more about General Assembly in the blog posts to come. And for those fellow “GA junkies” out there – who knows, maybe I’ll see you next year. I wouldn’t count it out.
Faithfully,
Bob