by Music Director David Brown
It has almost become cliché when I talk about my work as a musician in the context of a hemorrhaging democracy: How can I spend my days rehearsing, collaborating, planning, writing, practicing, and performing as our country suffers under a fascist regime? I used to run political campaigns; I was literally out in the streets fighting for change. How do I justify that I now make music with time and energy that I could spend fighting for our lives? Honestly, I still grapple with this question. But I have learned a lot in my 2.5 years as MLUC Music Director. We the music makers—every one of us who sings in the Choir, plays an instrument, or merely joins in singing our hymns every Sunday is a purveyor of joy. What is music if not joy incarnate? And what is the point of any of this—resistance, our way of life, or life itself—if not for the pursuit of joy for every one of us?
This past weekend I learned something new yet. Our MLUC Justice Choir made its street debut at the Ardmore No Kings Day protest, an event amassing an estimated 2,500 protesters brandishing creative signs and striking attire, and singing. About 40–50 members of our community showed up in our signature yellow T-shirts, and we sang our hearts out. I was leading the chant, “Hold On” by Heidi Wilson—introduced to me by Yvette at the beginning of March—when suddenly I choked up and had to put down the megaphone. “Hold on… hold on, my dear ones, here comes the dawn.” It was not only our MLUC contingent singing, but everyone around us. People of many faiths, backgrounds, appearances—lifelong activists, and the most reluctant protesters for whom enough was finally enough. Amidst car horns, 40-degree winds, and the chatter of thousands of people, music enveloped us. I began to feel something that I had not felt since before November 2024, when our country’s perilous fate was determined. I felt hope. Genuine hope. I’ve been playing the violin for 30 years—and for all the immeasurable joy it has brought me, hope was a brand-new facet of my lifelong musical pursuit. Hope that so many of our fellow citizens are waking up to the madness. Hope that the cracks in authoritarianism are beginning to show. And sheer hope, the likes of which music seemed to inspire unto itself for reasons that even my hardcore music-theory-oriented brain would struggle to explain.
Notably, our singing was infectious. It’s not only that so many wanted to join us, but that anyone could join us. I suspect that many of our singers would claim in any other context that they never sang before, or couldn’t sing at all. But there we were nonetheless, making music—meaningful music—and most of us doing so completely spontaneously. It is this possibility of music that I offer to every member of our greater MLUC community: Music can be joy—but moreover, hope; and absolutely everyone belongs in its creation. How perfect that one of my favorite Sunday services for musical opportunity is this weekend! If you would like to play in the Community Orchestra or sing in the Multigenerational Choir, please join us for our rehearsal this Sunday, April 5 at 9 a.m., before the service in the Main Meeting Room. No prior musical experience is required to sing. Participants of all ages and experience levels are welcome, and the orchestra is open to all instruments. (Children and youth are especially encouraged to join!) Sheet music (including chords) for instrumentalists is available here. If your particular clef or transposition is not included, please let me know so that I can create a part for you. Non-music-readers are equally welcome to sing or play by ear. Together, we will sing hymns #361: “Enter, Rejoice, and Come In,” and #123: “Spirit of Life.”