Today, we celebrate our Highest. As Mendelssohn reminds us in today’s communion anthem, it’s above all praise and all majesty. It’s like a thief in a house. When the police try to catch them on the first floor, the thieves ascend to the second. When police go into the second floor, the thieves are already on the roof. When the police get atop the roof, the thieves have escaped once again. I simply can’t top what’s atop my logic.  

This is what it means to “go higher.” The choir is learning of this weird phenomenon of moving from labor to effortlessness. I talk about this all the time. Their Psalm singing is like breathing now. When left alone, the breath will take care of itself. In a Course in Miracles, it says, “Let healing be.” Breathing will let you “intervene,” but after a while, you’ll tire. Better to let the lungs breathe you.

When I first started here 5 years ago, the labor pains were great. The pangs of labor in our learning Anglican chant were felt throughout the land! Essentially, I had to help the choir breathe. Our Anglican chant was on a respirator, puttering along like a winded fatty on an endless staircase to nowhere. There might have been some kicking and screaming, but the surrender came. They learned to trust that the “right” way to chant was Ryan’s way.   

When I first started at St. Andrew’s five years ago, you weren’t making much noise in the pews. My bald head must have had you affixed in a daze. You were unsure of what I was looking for. Who is this strange creature sitting on our organ bench? I had to trust my gut. I had to trust my Highest. I knew you would eventually acquiesce. Every job I’ve ever had has felt that way – it settles into what I’m looking for. People come around. I had to keep trusting my gut. When you do that, life has a way of cutting down the labor pains.

The more you love it, the more you trust it, and the more you cooperate with it, even when it looks a mess, the easier it seems to become. The more you fight against it, bang your head against the wall, and the more you resist, the harder it seems. At first, no one believes that effortlessness can be achieved. It’s not with force, but with the power of letting go. I can assure you, the choir gets better and better at it every week. It’s because they are learning to trust themselves and me. I realize I’m dazzling but come on – so are you!

I trusted you the entire time, even when your hymn singing was mediocre. You’re learning to trust in the way we worship. You’re learning that going higher means letting it go to “upper management.” Perhaps it’s above our heads. It’s above our comprehension, yet it’s buried deep within our flowering consciousness.

Once you get through the labor, it’s cake at these upper levels of management, but not if you insist on being meddlesome. You don’t dominate the music, you serve it. You don’t dominate hymn playing or Anglican chant either, you serve them. That’s what this Sunday is all about. It’s above our heads. Do you trust in that kind of height? That’s the epitome of letting go.

What rapture! What refinement! What ease! What service to our Highest of the High! Soli Deo Gloria.