NeuroDivine

Hymn-singing is never just about words on a page; it is about the marriage of text and tune, and how that union shapes the prayer of the gathered community. Yet music for hymns can be difficult. A hymnbook may suggest a tune that is unfamiliar in a particular place, and so the congregation must lean into the gift of substitution—finding a melody that is known, trusted, and singable.

This morning offered a living example of that practice. Behold the mountain of the Lord found its voice through Ballerma, and Pray that Jerusalem may have peace was carried by the sturdy strains of Winchester Old. Both substitutions reminded us that tunes are not fixed containers but vessels that can be shared, reshaped, and re-used to carry the Word.

The next two hymns returned us to more familiar ground. Let all mortal flesh keep silence drew us into mystery through Picardy, its modal beauty inviting reverence. And then, as Advent began, O come, O come, Emmanuel sounded in its own ancient melody—haunting, expectant, and full of longing.

Together, these four hymns traced a journey: from the adaptability of substitution, through the strength of tradition, into the deep resonance of Advent’s cry. They remind us that hymnody is not about perfection but participation. Whether sung to a tune we know well or one borrowed from another context, the act of singing together shapes us into a people attentive to God’s presence.

As Advent unfolds, perhaps this is the lesson: that even when the music is unfamiliar, even when we must adjust and adapt, the Spirit still weaves harmony out of our voices. The tune may change, but the prayer remains.