Our lives are influenced by everyone we meet. We meet people we admire and people we cringe to encounter, but all influence us in one way or another. It’s easy to assume that those who influence us the most are those with charismatic personalities, the kind that are always the life of a party or those with positions of prestige and influence. In reality, if we pay attention, it’s the meek and gentle who teach us the most.
When I first met Don he could no longer speak. He had a form of progressive aphasia, or speech loss, that had slowly eroded his ability to speak. I found his illness fascinating because as it took over his body, he first lost the ability to speak, but not the ability to sing. When Don and his wife moved to Wheaton they joined the choir at church where Don learned new songs and became a faithful member of the choir. By the time I met him, he no longer sang or spoke, but he communicated well in spite of his limitations.
Don showed me that we cannot predict how a life that exhibits Christ will take form. He was unable to share his testimony with me and yet I had no doubt that he had complete trust in God. No doubt at all. He was the picture of patient long suffering and his eyes spoke when his tongue no longer could.
My friendship with Don came through music. I took a small harp to visits and played standard hymns that Don knew and loved. As I played his favorite hymns he’d squeeze his wife’s hand and tears would stream down his cheeks. The sound of the music brought to his memory all the words that had become memorized through a lifetime of worship. As the music filled the air, the words attached to them filled Don’s mind, which ministered to his soul. The music wasn’t just a lovely sound that soothed. It was the key to unlock musical reminders of God’s word, to comfort and sustain a man who’d dedicated his life to a faithful Lord.
Don’s illness created in me a curiosity about music, language and the brain. How was it that he could learn new songs when he couldn’t speak simple sentences anymore? Why did the music of the old hymns of the church bring him more joy and more consistent response than other music? So my mute friend sent me to research.
Conventional wisdom long believed that one side of the brain managed lyrics while the other dealt with the music. It is becoming evident that unexpected and unsophisticated areas of the brain are involved in interpreting, writing, feeling, hearing, and performing music. There doesn’t seem to be a “music center” in our brains. The brain itself is the music center.
Researchers at the University of Caen used positron emission tomography (PET) to monitor the effects of changes in pitch and found the visual cortex (responsible for imagination) became active! Music also resides in our spatial reasoning, auditory and visual cortexes. It illicits emotional responses, and requires the use of memory, verbal skills, and mathematic ability.
Music is a highly complex activity. Whether we participate as creator of music or listener, it consumes nearly every part of our brains. Understanding this helped me understand why the sound of the melodies of Don’s favorite hymns brought him comfort and a communion with God that was impossible to measure. Without the ability to speak, Don no longer could speak of God’s good works or faithfulness, but he demonstrated his love for God and his trust in God through his response to the words of hymns, all drawn from the Scriptures, all reminding us to think on the Lord. And because music brought us to that place, we went with all our minds. Not a little part, as we would when we speak, but ALL our minds.
So, Don teaches me something else! The Psalms are full of exhortations to sing our praises. Why would we be told to sing our praises? Not all of us sing well. Does God want to hear us sing badly? Can’t we just say the words? If researchers are correct, then singing our praises is an action that involves much more of our intellect than simply saying the words. Singing our praises fills every part of our mind with the Truth of which we sing.
What a joy that Don had in his long term memory the words of so many hymns, long commonly sung in congregations around the world. When he no longer had short term memory, his long term memory sent the hymn text flooding back, overflowing in the form of tears running down his cheeks at times. I wonder how different his last days would have been if he’d been used to a diet of music that is more common in many of today’s churches: new songs, each sung only until boredom sets in, only to be tossed away for the next new song. The new, updated songs of the 1970’s are rarely heard anymore and few people remember all the words. The same is true of today’s contemporary music. It’s here and gone so fast that setting it firmly into long term memory for retrieval later is unlikely.
Don taught me the value of holding on to our common language of hymns. He taught me that I don’t need words to share my faith because actions are a powerful witness of a Christian’s transformation. His great patience with his condition and his deep response to music taught me that God can be praised without words if there are none. We are not limited by our bodies, only by our faith. Don’s body limited him in earthly ways, but his heart was close to God and it was impossible to miss. My quiet friend taught me to understand the importance of music in worship. By the time I knew him, he wasn’t what you’d call the life of the party, he couldn’t move anyplace without help, and yet he was running a race with determination that let me see Christ’s strength in his weakness. What a gift he gave to me, my mute friend.
Barbara Ann Fackler July 2009
One of Don's favorite hymns was O, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus.
Download an arrangement for harp here.