Today marks the second day of summer break for my kids, and so for two months they will be much more a part of my daily work- and prayer-life. Yesterday, I met a few parishioners at a coffee shop to talk about theology, and the kids came along (they did not talk about the nature of Jesus’ resurrection body with us; they sat at a different table, drank a strawberry smoothy, and colored pictures of Pokemon). Today I stayed at home to write my sermon, and whenever I took a break, I also got a hug. Not all parts of priestly ministry is welcoming to children (e.g. visiting folks in the hospital), so they’re not with me most of the time, but summer break does allow me to see them more often. Which I really enjoy.

My children often like to join me for my daily prayer. Lately, I’ve been chanting the shorter form for morning prayer found in the Book of Common Prayer (you can find it online by clicking here). To this I’ve added a short time for silent prayer, which I hope to increase during the summer from its current six minutes to something like fifteen. This format is good for me and my schedule, but it’s also something that the kids can get into. I let them read the lectionary selection aloud, and they always join me in the parts of the chants that they know.

One thing I noticed recently, though, is that as soon as I start chanting, both children cuddle up with me. It’s like I’m suddenly magnetized and the children are little bits of iron. Now, my children are generally enamored with singing, and I know they love their daddy, but I think that their reaction to chant is something natural to most kids. Children are drawn to music, and they are especially drawn to music that is sung by someone they know and love. And when I write that music and chant are “natural” to children, I mean that they are part of their essential make-up as human beings. Music is part of their souls.

JRR Tolkien, who is known mostly for his books The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, wrote extensively on the interconnection of music and the creation of the world. Music is found throughout his worlds – and not just sung music. There is music in the natural world and especially in the waters of the ocean, which draw characters to their essential selves and their own connections with the natural and eternal worlds. In fact, Tolkien wrote a creation myth for the world of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings in which the universe is created by a choir of angels singing before Illuvatar, Tolkien’s name for the Christian God in his world. For Tolkien, music is about as deep as you can get.

I think Tolkien is spot on here. Music is at the center of our being, which is why I think that if, given the choice, we should sing our prayers instead of say them. The Eucharistic Prayer should be sung instead of simply spoken, and not just by a priest with a beautiful voice, but by anyone, even priests like myself who can’t always find the right note. Music makes a space more holy, and for something like the Eucharist, which is the most holy thing in the entire universe, we should be as reverent and as musical as possible.

So how do we add music to our own daily prayers? I personally use chant (it’s easier to sing), which I learned at seminary. Rather basically, it consists of a lift and a dip: O Lord, o`pen our lips; and our mouth shall pro`claim your praise. Everything except the o- and the pro- are sung in monotone. If you have a hymnal, and you can read music, you can find this written out musically in S33 (this also has the music for singing Alleluia, which is my kids’ favorite part).

Besides plain chant, there is also Taize chant, which you can find by searching for “Taize” on YouTube. These are easy to memorize and deeply meditative. Then there are hymns and other music that is more complicated, but I personally enjoy and recommend something simple that doesn’t require you to pop open the hymnal or pull out an instrument. Just your voice and your prayer are foundations, though perhaps I think this only because I’m not very skilled musically.

The connection with children, however, remains pretty important. Raising children who know how to pray musically means that they won’t have to learn the practice when they’re older. Or, perhaps, that when they are in need of a way to connect with God, they’ll have the memory of our music to get them through.