When Music Becomes Ministry: Phylicia Rashad’s Emotional Tribute to Richard Smallwood
It was a night filled with reverence, memory, and unmistakable graтιтude. As Phylicia Rashad took the stage to honor Richard Smallwood, her voice carried the weight of decades. Known worldwide for her commanding presence in theater and television, Rashad was not performing. She was remembering. And remembering, for her, meant tears.
Richard Smallwood is not simply a gospel musician. He is a composer, arranger, pianist, and visionary whose work reshaped contemporary gospel music. Born in 1948 in Atlanta, Georgia, Smallwood’s musical journey began in the church—like many gospel greats—but quickly expanded beyond its walls. His early gift for music was matched by discipline, intellect, and a deep spiritual conviction that would define his life’s work.
At Howard University, where he studied classical piano and composition, Smallwood began blending European classical structure with the emotional depth of Black gospel traditions. This fusion was revolutionary. At a time when spirituals were often marginalized in academic music programs, Smallwood elevated them—proving that gospel could be technically sophisticated without losing its soul.
It was at Howard that he formed what would become the Howard University Gospel Choir. Under his direction, rehearsals were rigorous. Precision mattered. Breathing techniques mattered. Harmonic layering mattered. But above all, intention mattered. Smallwood believed gospel music was not merely performance—it was ministry through sound.
Phylicia Rashad, who was also a student at Howard in the drama department, remembers those early performances vividly. One debut concert at Cramton Auditorium became legendary. Washington D.C.’s elite filled the hall, dressed in elegance and expectation. But before the first quarter of the performance was complete, decorum gave way to devotion. Hands were raised. Voices joined in. The audience stood, not out of politeness, but out of spiritual overwhelm.
Rashad recalls how the music did more than entertain—it transformed the space.
Years later, during a challenging season in her theater career in New York, Rashad encountered Smallwood’s music again—this time through a simple cᴀssette tape. The song was “I Love the Lord.”
She did not initially know who composed it. She only knew that it reached her. The melody, the chord progressions, the swelling harmonies—they provided comfort and clarity when she needed it most.
That is the power of Richard Smallwood’s music.
Songs like “Total Praise,” “Center of My Joy,” and “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” have become staples in churches worldwide. But they are more than standards. They are lifelines. They are prayers set to melody. Each composition blends technical mastery with emotional accessibility, inviting both trained musicians and everyday worshippers into a shared experience.
Behind those songs, however, lies years of unseen labor.
Smallwood was meticulous. He would revise arrangements repeatedly, testing harmonies late into the night. He sought feedback not only for musical precision but for spiritual resonance. Choir members were not simply performers—they were vessels. Rehearsals became spiritual exercises. Excellence was not about applause. It was about honoring the message.
When Rashad honored Smallwood, she was not simply celebrating success. She was acknowledging sacrifice.
There were seasons of challenge. Moments of financial strain. Times when innovation met resistance. Traditionalists questioned his fusion of classical elements with gospel intensity. Yet Smallwood remained steadfast. He understood that preserving tradition sometimes requires bold evolution.
What makes his legacy remarkable is its generational reach. Students who sang under his direction at Howard went on to become leaders in music and ministry. Choir directors around the world study his arrangements. Young gospel artists cite him as foundational inspiration. His compositions are now embedded in the global sound of worship.
And yet, the most powerful aspect of his influence may be the emotional response his music continues to evoke.
When Rashad’s voice trembled during her tribute, it reflected something deeper than nostalgia. It reflected graтιтude—for music that carried her. For art that anchored her. For a man whose life demonstrated that faith, discipline, and creative courage can leave a permanent mark on the world.
In an era often driven by spectacle, Richard Smallwood’s greatness lies in substance. He did not chase trends. He built legacy. He did not dilute his message for popularity. He refined it through excellence.
That night, as tears filled Rashad’s eyes, the audience witnessed more than admiration. They witnessed evidence of what happens when artistry meets purpose.
Music became memory. Memory became testimony.
And testimony became legacy.
Richard Smallwood’s story reminds us that perseverance shapes impact. That innovation can honor tradition. And that when music is rooted in faith, it does more than entertain—it heals, it unites, and it endures.
