And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another-and all the more as you see the Day approaching.–Hebrews 10:24-25, NIV
I’d like to tell you a story about building a beloved community. It was the early 1990s. I was working my first full time job near Princeton, New Jersey. Music has always been a constant in my life, so finding some way to keep music in my new schedule was a priority. So I auditioned for and joined an 80-voice semi-professional choir, Princeton Pro Musica, out of Westminster Choir College. It was not easy to integrate into the group. Even though “all are welcome,” my section was not terribly welcoming. I showed up, did my part, extended my hand to my section members, determined to be a part of the group. It wasn’t until the new crop of members joined that I was moved from my “probationary status” to “insider.”
That February our choir decided to partner with the S. Howard Woodson Jr. Mass Choir of Shiloh Baptist Church of Trenton for a combined concert for Black History Month. The mass choir came up to Princeton, rehearsed with us, then sang with us at Princeton University Chapel. They seemed nervous, apologizing that they might not know how to sing like us on our traditional pieces. They had nothing to worry about; we helped them. We were nervous, similarly concerned our more Western way of singing would retract from the traditional gospel pieces we would sing with them. We had nothing to worry about either; they helped us. The full house of supporters from both our communities at our combined concert confirmed our successful collaboration. Then, they took a chance, they invited us to come to their church that Sunday to sing with them.
Trenton was not a thriving city at that time, and the church’s neighborhood was economically stressed, to say the least. I arrived early, nervous about finding the right church (there was no internet or google maps to rely on). I was surprised to be greeted by several elders in the church parking lot. They were all smiles but a bit sheepish as they explained they’d be staying in the lot while we were visiting so no shenanigans happened with our cars. I walked inside to be greeted by the elder women brigade. They were dressed for Sunday and all smiles. They complimented my dress and hat, a bit nervously, as they expectantly waited for an acknowledging smile in return. They then delivered me to the choir room, where the mass choir members were gathering. They felt like old friends now. Gradually the remainder of our group arrived. It was interesting to watch how shoulders relaxed and smiles easily emerged as they saw the church members they now knew. We learned a new piece, for us, and what the order of service would be. We were given a place of honor to sit in the front of the church. And we had another wonderful time singing together and being welcomed into their community. We would do this every February and at other times for the next 3 years that I sang with my group before I moved to Massachusetts.
That first February was by far the hardest. As I look back, it is apparent to see how uneasy both groups were – feeling the other out, getting to know each other, testing the waters of acceptance, and learning how to let our guards down so we could become one choir, one community, even if only for a short time. Each time we regathered, though, it was a joyous reunion, one community when together, originally founded on common ground, in this case making music together.
I was young at the time, but reflecting now with the wisdom and experience, there is an important lesson here. Of course it is scary to put yourself into a new situation with new people, and into a new community. You are outside your comfort zone, you worry that you will not be accepted, that you will be tolerated but not truly included, that somehow you won’t fit in. However, for a community, welcoming new people is just as scary. Will they like us? Will they disrupt the harmony of the established community with new ideas, questions, challenges? Will they want to change us? Are they too different from us to become a real member of the community?
It takes courage on both sides to be open to the possibility of building and nurturing a community to become beloved. The one-sided acceptance I experienced joining my new choir had me bear the majority of the burden of integrating into the community, the “prove yourself” model. I never really felt completely a part of Princeton Pro Musica; it was too one-sided. This starkly contrasts with that first February experience. Two very different communities came together for a short period of time to just sing a concert. We had a mission. Yet we were able to set in motion something bigger. The mutual vulnerability in the moment and the willingness on both sides to build a choir, a “blended community,” for a short-term goal ended up enabling a longer term relationship. Common ground, the courage to be vulnerable, and the willingness to be open to the possible – these are the lessons I took away from this early adult life experience on how to build a beloved community.
Bless us, O God, with courage to be ope to the possibility of building and nurturing a community to become beloved. Amen.
–Cheryl Elkins
Article announcing 1992 concert
https://www.nytimes.com/1992/01/26/nyregion/music-giving-voice-to-black-history.html