Secular spirituality
Most songs in the Sacred Harp are overtly Christian, but within them lie a wealth of themes. Some are exultant odes to God and praise; others succinctly summarize stories and morals from the Bible, and many are rife with images of fire and brimstone. To sing them — and sing them loudly — initially seems awkward or at least quirky to the non-believer, but the communal nature of shape note singing is itself is so fundamentally rousing that it's easy to cast secular concerns aside and enjoy the process.
In fact, lessons are designed in a secular manner. The leader of any given song, standing in the middle of her peers, is in a space called the "hollow square." It's often referred to as a "sacred space," but it's no bully pulpit. Leaders do nothing more than keep time and sing their part. The space is sacred because it's the only spot where one might hear all of the voices in perfect harmony. In the documentary Awake, My Soul, interview subjects speak of the hollow square with reverence, describing the tremors they feel at their feet from the power of dozens or hundreds of participants at full pitch. It's both ironic and appropriate that this is a sort of half-truth: they may have the best seat in the house, but their own singing gets in the way of fully hearing everyone else. (The film's stirring soundtrack of performances from Southern conventions can give you the full, voyeuristic effect.) Sacred Harp is about singing to God, but it's just as much about singing with a group of people who are simply delighted to sing. Everyone is offered an opportunity to step in to the hollow square and lead a song.
Chris Holley approaches me during an intermission in the Waterville singing (this happens to me a number of times; I can't stress enough how genuinely polite and welcoming these people are), and I ask him how he discovered shape note singing. He says he first encountered it at the Common Ground Fair seven or eight years ago, where 75 or 100 singers were gathered. He was taken aback by the unusual harmonies and sheer force of the music, and instantly began attending singings around the state. He says he wasn't necessarily a religious person before he began his journey with the Sacred Harp, but, with some seriousness, claimed that "everybody that stays with this music... after a long time, [it] will come to tell you it has spiritual meaning."
Happy hour
In South Portland on a recent Tuesday, I meet with the "Ballstown Shapenote Singers," a small (anywhere between three- and ten-member) group of mostly under-30 singers. The atmosphere is decidedly less formal (and even more secular) than it was in Waterville — there are no seated rows, people with different types of voices are intermingled, we're near a fireplace, there's hot apple cider and ironic jokes about the content of the songs ("Ballstown" is the name of a Sacred Harp song, on page 217) — but it's equally welcoming and informative for beginners.
