I am a choral singer. A second soprano, to be exact. I’ve sung in lots of different groups, learning how to match pitch, read music, blend vocally, harmonize, and be comfortable with dissonance.

But it wasn’t until this past summer that I realized how those choral skills might translate to being and living in community.

In early August, I spent a week in retreat with some colleagues at Holy Wisdom Monastery just outside of Madison, Wisconsin. Holy Wisdom is an ecumenical monastery with a fascinating history. It also happens to be the place where the documents were signed to create the ELCA, merging three predecessor church bodies. Three Benedictine sisters currently reside at the monastery and, in line with their practice of radical hospitality, they invite visitors to join them in their daily prayer services.

Before we attended our first morning prayer service, one of our fellow retreatants shared some wisdom she had garnered from a previous experience with the Benedictines. Our tendency, as good Lutherans, she observed, is to SING OUT and, as Lutheran leaders, to help vigorously support congregational singing. One time, though, a sister approached her group of (loud) Lutherans and very gently offered a suggestion. “If you can’t hear the person to your left and to your right,” she advised, “you’re singing too loudly.” Oof.

So when we went to the prayer services, I found myself practicing a bit of restraint in my singing (which, I must admit, is a challenge for me!) and, as one does in choral singing, listening for the voices around me.

It changed me, this experience.

It made me keenly aware that I was involved in something greater than myself. I heard my voice, yes, but in a sea of other voices. The communal act of singing—the sole fact that we were doing something together—outweighed the distinct quality of any one voice. It wasn’t to say that distinct voices weren’t important or appreciated, only that, in this one practice, the community took precedence.

Having been in the role of bishop for a year now, I’ve come to understand the synod as a community. Yes, there are distinctive voices in the local flair of congregations, but being united in a common mission, we are one community. What would it be like if we listened to the “person (congregation) on our left and the person (congregation) on our right” a bit more intently? Might we learn to sing together in a way that allows us to collaborate in our mission? Might that truly be holy wisdom?

While it is evident that the landscape of the church today is far different than it was even six years ago, one thing that hasn’t changed is that God is still calling us to do the work of the church together. My prayer for us is that we are able to listen louder than we speak, so that we might join together in our proclamation of the gospel—or at least come to realize that we don’t do it alone.

We started this summer with our Synod Gathering, where we highlighted ministry stories from across our state. Perhaps we can end our summer by returning to those stories and joining our voices together in song.