It’s not just about the pay—or lack thereof. It’s also a call to examine the frequent lack of reciprocity that often surrounds it.
Most professional singers aren’t asking for Carnegie Hall rates. But we are asking why so many sacred and institutional roles still expect excellence, reliability, and emotional labor—without offering advocacy, visibility, or any other support in return. We show up prepared, polished, and professional—yet once the service ends, the vast majority don’t ask how we’re doing, and they express little interest in the human behind the harmony.
The truth is, far too many of us can no longer afford to serve the very traditions we grew up in and actually want to be part of. Not because we’ve lost our calling—but because the structures haven’t evolved.
This isn’t about ego. It’s about the quiet normalization of depletion. The moral expectation that we stay small, stay grateful, and stay silent.
And if these roles are truly as sacred as we claim, then we should be doing more—not less—to ensure the people filling them can actually survive without sacrificing their future.
“Unless you’re singing in a church that is your actual faith community—a place where you feel spiritually nourished and artistically respected—be careful. And don’t get too attached.” Early in my career, I sang regular and sub church gigs for denominations that were not my own faith. I’d sing for the going rate (not that much) and then race across town to worship at my own church. After a few years, I realized that I needed the worship more than the gig. I chose to earn my living through teaching and solo contracts that did not require me to give up every Sunday (and weekend). I traded regular church gigs for a life and the choice to worship where I wish. I still sing in a church choir because it’s part of my faith practice and I enjoy it, but I have no interest in being one of the paid section leaders who are required by contract to attend every Wednesday rehearsal and sing two weekly Sunday services. Good for them, but I don’t want to have to find a sub every time I travel and I certainly don’t want a 7:30am call every Sunday for an 8:00am service. Nope. I’ll see you at 10:30am for an 11am service. [insert 7-fold amen]
Thank you for sharing! 💙 I think one of the unspoken problems with these section leader contracts is the expectation that you practically need to prioritize it no differently than if it were your full-time salaried day job—a lot of logistical and emotional labor that doesn’t get accounted for.
To clarify what this piece is—and isn’t:
It’s not just about the pay—or lack thereof. It’s also a call to examine the frequent lack of reciprocity that often surrounds it.
Most professional singers aren’t asking for Carnegie Hall rates. But we are asking why so many sacred and institutional roles still expect excellence, reliability, and emotional labor—without offering advocacy, visibility, or any other support in return. We show up prepared, polished, and professional—yet once the service ends, the vast majority don’t ask how we’re doing, and they express little interest in the human behind the harmony.
The truth is, far too many of us can no longer afford to serve the very traditions we grew up in and actually want to be part of. Not because we’ve lost our calling—but because the structures haven’t evolved.
This isn’t about ego. It’s about the quiet normalization of depletion. The moral expectation that we stay small, stay grateful, and stay silent.
And if these roles are truly as sacred as we claim, then we should be doing more—not less—to ensure the people filling them can actually survive without sacrificing their future.
“Unless you’re singing in a church that is your actual faith community—a place where you feel spiritually nourished and artistically respected—be careful. And don’t get too attached.” Early in my career, I sang regular and sub church gigs for denominations that were not my own faith. I’d sing for the going rate (not that much) and then race across town to worship at my own church. After a few years, I realized that I needed the worship more than the gig. I chose to earn my living through teaching and solo contracts that did not require me to give up every Sunday (and weekend). I traded regular church gigs for a life and the choice to worship where I wish. I still sing in a church choir because it’s part of my faith practice and I enjoy it, but I have no interest in being one of the paid section leaders who are required by contract to attend every Wednesday rehearsal and sing two weekly Sunday services. Good for them, but I don’t want to have to find a sub every time I travel and I certainly don’t want a 7:30am call every Sunday for an 8:00am service. Nope. I’ll see you at 10:30am for an 11am service. [insert 7-fold amen]
Thank you for sharing! 💙 I think one of the unspoken problems with these section leader contracts is the expectation that you practically need to prioritize it no differently than if it were your full-time salaried day job—a lot of logistical and emotional labor that doesn’t get accounted for.