This weekend, I sang at mass for the first time in seven years. It was, in fact, exactly seven years going by the liturgical calendar, as the last mass I did was on Ash Wednesday, and this mass was the first Sunday of Lent.
For those who don’t know, I spent twelve years as the cantor (yes, they’re called cantors in the Catholic Church, get over it) at Saints Peter and Paul RC Church in Hoboken, making it the longest commitment I’ve had to anything other than my marriage (one more year as a dad and it will slip to third place). While I was there, I created a children’s choir and served for a time as its director, and even worked for two years as the office manager at our sister parish in Weehawken after the two parishes were linked. I also had semi-regular church gigs when I was a teenager and have subbed at masses and funerals in many other parishes throughout the years.
Most people who know me know that I have serious issues with religion in general and the Catholic Church in particular. I’ve even written — and not in the most flattering of ways — about some of my experiences working for the church in a series of articles for TheHumanist.com. Hell, I’ve written multiple plays taking the institution to task. So why, some might ask, would I choose to work for the church? And why, after a seven year hiatus, would I want to take yet another church job?
The answer lies in the word “job.” That pretty much it. It’s a job. They pay me. They pay me to sing, no less, which is a wonderful thing. And for me, it’s easy money. I know the liturgy backwards and forwards. I know the hymns. I know the rhythms of the mass. I know how to do the job, not just well, but professionally. I’m an asset to the churches where I work because I’m competent at what I do and I approach my job without ego. I have no hidden agendas. I’m not looking to rise in the organization or use the gig as a springboard to greater things. I sing, they pay me. Simple.
That said, I have to admit … I missed it these past seven years. And not just the getting paid part. I missed the mass. I missed the music. I missed the sense of community. And I specifically missed singing in that setting. Being a cantor at church is unlike any other form of singing I do. When I’m onstage singing in a musical or a revue or a concert or whatever, it’s very much, “Look at me! Look at me! Look at what I’m doing! NOW CHEER FOR MEEEEE!!!!!!” As a cantor, your job is to be of service to the mass. I kind of like that. I like having it not be about me. It helps keep the ego in check. As a former music director of mine once said, if they applaud you at the end, you’re doing it wrong.
(Full disclosure, they actually did applaud me at the end of this mass. But I think that was just the congregation being nice to the new guy.)
So I’m back to singing for the church. And whatever my feelings might be about the institution or the ideology, I’m happy to be back. It feels right. And, I’m pleased to add, all my old suits still fit. Even if they are a couple of years out of style.
Geoffrey Scheer 