Today’s methods of communication afford instant feedback. Whereas my generation (especially girls) grew up talking on the phone for hours before getting to the point, youth today flip information back and forth faster than a ping-pong volley. We adults do it too, tablets and phones rarely farther away than an arm’s length.

While I miss the pace of communicating in days of yore, the virtues of e-communication do invigorate me. Case in point. To last week’s Digest entry Singing and Dancing [Again], I got a response that read as follows:

What this entry brings to mind with me is the story of the Irish herdsman suddenly being enthralled by the song and dance in a fairy ring and being drawn irresistibly into its midst, usually with disastrous results. The question comes to mind: if the prototypical Irish herdsman or shepherdess had been singing his or her own songs while working, would the music of the fairy ring have presented such a strong lure?

Wow-whee, I thought. How beautifully this was stated.  And it’s true! When we learn to sing (or play or draw or dance) our own songs, we are less likely to be led astray by a world filled with disastrous lures.

This response came to mind again today while conducting a Skype interview with a young American composer named Brooke Pierson. Pierson’s new fanfare will receive its premiere at the March 26th Dallas Wind’s concert (a slightly late centenary bash celebrating Leonard Bernstein). Pierson directs a high-school band in Ypsalanti, Michigan, composes for both professional and student ensembles, and was one of the winners of the 2018-2019 International Fanfare Competition.

He and I talked about my most ardent conviction: the immeasurable contribution that playing in a band (choir, orchestra) or participating in any of the performing or visual arts gives to a child’s life. A young person doesn’t just cart an instrument into the band hall; she brings her hopes and dreams, along with her worries and struggles. At each rehearsal, the conductor is shaping more than a few minutes of music. He is shaping a child’s life.

Education in the arts gives young people a broader vocabulary for responding to the difficulties of life. As a child learns to sing her own song within an artistic expression, then an unmovable cornerstone is laid upon which to build a positive and fulfilling adult life. The lure of the fairies fades.

And so, I rejoiced in Gabrielle’s response. Wait, I haven’t told you! The response came from Gabrielle Bronzich (I asked her permission to share it). She is Musical Director at Holy Nativity Episcopal Church in Plano Texas and a terrific organist. She plays also Irish Harp so delicately, it’s hard to describe.

Plus, she has luscious voice both for both singing and chanting. The kicker, for me, is that she can sing and play the organ simultaneously. No matter how long I served as a church organist, I found it excruciatingly difficult to sing while playing. But Gabrielle? She makes it look easy.

One more thing: Gabrielle is Eastern Orthodox and brings astounding insight into her liturgical planning. Even though we no longer live in Texas, I stay on her choir’s email list. Why? Because she responds to her choir members with tender, enlightening descriptions of each week’s hymns, chants, and choral pieces. There’s hardly a Saint’s Day she doesn’t commemorate and list wonderful resources. In short, her communiqués are an education.

In a world full of ill and travails, we humans still seek out the cycle of communicating and responding. The cycle can be ill-used, that’s for sure! But in its best form, it energizes, challenges, and uplifts us.

One caveat, though. This cycle brings its best when we can communicate and respond honestly. I just read a book on bugs to my three-year old grandson. A bevy of bugs plus detailed photos and 200 words of data per bug make this quite a vivid book. At the end of each bug, my grandson asked me the same question: “Is he want to hug me?” “Is he want to kiss me?”

Without straying too much into why we hate mosquitoes and fleas, I answered that, no, that’s not what bugs want to do. Later, though, it struck me why he asked those questions. At three, he grasps primarily just two kinds of communications: hugging/kissing and anger. Those are also the two main responses he knows how to give.

So while we struggle to educate our children (and ourselves), remember the gentle dance of communication and response. This painstaking dynamic has a variety of names: character-building, cultivation, emotional development, and spiritual formation. Whatever name we give, we strive to instill good songs (communicate) and the ability to sing them (respond), so as to stand strong against the lure of evil and darkness.