Last night at choir rehearsal we were going over the service music for the jazz mass we will be doing for our "homecoming Sunday," the first Sunday at which the choir sings after our summer hiatus. We were looking over the Lamb of God (or Agnus Dei for those of you familiar with a more traditional mass) and the conductor pointed out that in the traditional line "Lamb of God you take away the sins of the world," he wanted us to change "sins" to "sin."

He went on to explain that this was not because it is musically easier to sing an "n" sound than an "s" sound at the end of a word, although this is certainly a perk. His reasoning for making the word sin singular had a personal theological basis which he shared with us.

"Sin" he said, is that which separates us from the divine, in whatever form it may take. All too often when we talk about "sins" we are tempted to then begin to innumerate these sins and those sins and the other sins -- all of which they do, but which we of course, do not do. When talking about "sins" it becomes easier and easier to make those "sins" a list of things that we do not understand, that we do not ascribe to, or that we do not agree with. It becomes easier and easier to define cultural differences as "sins" as well.

Yet with a singular "sin" it becomes a personal message, a personal journey over the space which separates you from your personal experience of the divine. It no longer is viable to talk about my sin and your sin as being different from one another, because quintessentially, they are the same: that which removes us from our experience of the divine.

We continued to sing the piece which, although it is a rather non-traditional musical arrangement, is nevertheless a traditional rendering of the Agnus Dei:

Lamb of God you take away the sin of the world.
Lamb of God you take away the sin of the world.
Lamb of God you take away the sin of the world.
Grant us thy peace.

As we sang the last phrase, a contemplative look came over our director’s face. He paused as the last ringing tones echoed in the empty and darkened church.

"You know," he said to us, "I always thought of that last line as the last thing on a laundry list of things we are asking for; 'take away the sin of the world, oh and also, grant us thy peace.' But it's not, is it? Peace is that which happens when we remove the sin, when we take away the distance between ourselves and the power of the divine. Peace is the end result. Grant us thy peace."