Where's Our Effort for God?

Where's Our Effort for God Go? 

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So, I’ve basically grown up in the St. Peter Children and Youth Choir—it’s been eight whole years, which is a massive chunk of my life, you know? My schedule has been totally split between these super intense choir practices and standing in the cathedral during Mass, feeling that huge, magnificent silence. Eight years is a crazy long time to dedicate to anything, especially something as demanding and specific as singing. What all those years, with professional teachers yelling corrections and endless practices, have hammered into my head is this: Singing is not simple as it seems. It is definitely not just some casual thing you decide to "do." Even now, after countless hours training, reading these insane sheet music pages, and battling the echoing noise of that massive building, I still feel like an amateur. I respect the art too much to act like I've mastered it or something.

But here’s the thing that drives me absolutely nuts: I keep hearing people say that the congregation is silent; they basically just stand there and don’t sing along during Mass. I don’t know every single reason why they stay quiet, but honestly, a huge part of me suspects it’s because we, the choir the very group whose whole job is to lead the worship aren't doing our absolute best. It’s like, the choir is supposed to be the spiritual and musical engine that powers the Mass, right? But if we aren’t good enough, if we look bored and lack spirit or effort, everyone else catches that vibe. They don't find the momentum or the inspiration needed to actually lift their own voices. They just shut down.

Every single time I’m standing up there in the sanctuary, getting ready to use my voice for God, I look around at the rest of the choir and this furious, hot frustration just builds up inside me. I can’t stop the thought: “It’s for God, people! Why in the world are we not giving it everything we’ve got? Why is the effort level so low?” I’m not gonna lie, I’m deeply, genuinely pissed off about it.

This is NOT me being arrogant and judging people's vocal talent. I'm not expecting everyone to sound like a professional opera soloist. What I am mad about is the intent I know exactly what these singers are capable of achieving. I have literally stood shoulder-to-shoulder with them in the super intense, pressure-cooker situations when we are preparing for international competitions. I have seen that total, laser focus, the endless need for perfectionism, and the absolute commitment to technical excellence when we have a temporary trophy or a judge's score on the line. We will spend weeks perfecting every tiny detail, the breath control, the meticulous blending of tones, and fighting tooth and nail for the exact dynamic nuance required to win.

But then, we walk from the rehearsal room and step onto the altar for Mass, and that relentless pursuit of excellence just totally vanishes. It's like someone turned off the energy switch. The careful shaping of the music becomes lazy, sloppy sound production. The intentionality is completely gone. It makes no sense!

My old teacher once told me something that really stuck. She said saying the truth is always better than just keeping quiet. She said it's almost wrong when we tell someone a lie, or when we just don't give them feedback because we're scared of making things awkward. Like, how is anyone supposed to improve if they literally don't know what needs fixing? Everyone needs an outside view, because that’s the only way you can actually strive to be your very best. So, she drilled it into me: it’s better to say it than not, even if you feel bad or awkward delivering the message. I remember that every single time I feel this huge conflict in my heart.

So yeah, during Mass, while part of me feels genuinely guilty and bad about criticizing my own group, I know this feeling comes from respecting the craft and, most importantly, respecting the Divine. If all of us would actually put that same fierce, competitive dedication we use for a meaningless trophy into our devotion, something absolutely profound would happen. Our singing would be more than just notes; it would be a real offering. And seriously, everyone knows the saying, "One who sings prays twice." We need to start acting like we believe that. We owe it to the congregation and to the faith we're supposed to be celebrating.