Ministry in the Choir

Approximately 55 years ago I had my debut in the children's choir of
St. Paul's Episcopal Church in the very small town of Sidney, New York.
It was a short lived experience which began in Advent. Being liturgically
unschooled, I do not remember how long it lasted and whether confirmation
occurred before or after my voice changed, I only remember being totally
terrified of the minister. To this day I do not remember the reason for the
terror, but it was real to this shy child of so long ago.

After my voice changed my older and only brother said to me that
my voice was of a low grade "Broadway" style. After that I only
sang in the shower or when I was by myself! In high school I was
only once cast in a musical - and that was in a speaking role. I tended
to be cast in more dramatic roles with the "drama" club.  College brought
me opportunities in the chorus - summer stock also chorus plus some
bad boy roles in children's theatre. But I am digressing.

Fifty years later, I am now singing in the adult choir at St. John's
Episcopal Church in Gloucester, Mass. My boy soprano has become
a bass. My nickname to some is Basil. I am retired and work no
longer holds me back from singing in the choir. It has been a
journey in itself.

Here  are a few things I have noticed. When I sang as a member
of the congregation, I was loud on my good notes and down the
octave when it got "too high."  In the choir I have rediscovered
my falsetto and love to display my deep voice notes. But singing
in a choir means one must try to sing with others and be of one
voice. It is hard work and demands much concentration. The rewards
are the few times when you know that all has come together and the
many sing as one.

But the best of it all is the community one feels and the acceptance of
giving what one has to the whole. We are all imperfect and we all have
some gifts, but ego is set aside and the whole is always more important
than the part. It is a unique expression of the Christian community and
as Paul so aptly put it - we are all individually parts necessary for the
whole body to find its expression. Slight paraphrase.

There is a deep joy in the pursuit of music making. It takes faith and
the willingness to humbly offer what one has to the whole. And in that,
it is a microcosm and model of the true Christian community.

I remember a time in summer stock when the company was offering
"The King and I" when after "We Kiss in a Shadow"  the actors
portraying Tuptim and Lun Tha came off the stage and knew that
their singing was only a millimeter short of perfect. And that is what
our choir and anyone who sings dares to attain. It is the most rewarding
possibility to blend text and music so completely that the voice transcends
its limitations and soars joining spirit and expression to new heights.

It is  task that is both bewildering in its responsibility and a source of
wonderment when is coalesces into a wholeness that not only lifts
the singers to a new level - but arouses or awakens the spiritual in the
ears and hearts of the listeners.

And that is why it is ministry.




R

Palm Sunday/Passion Sunday

I am trying to be honest with my quest this particular Holy Week.
The double edged sword of today's liturgy always catches me up
a little short. The joy of the remembrance of Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem
verses the sudden turn acknowledging what comes after - death and
the hope of the resurrection. Disturbing, yet hope-filled, we look into
the dark parts of our journey and so - into our own lives.

Today, the weather being with us, we began our journey into this week
in the dazzling brightness of morning on Cape Ann before the great
red doors of our parish home. We were temporarily blinded by the light
as we entered into our worship space and too soon, looked deeply
inward at the week ahead. I read the Gospel story from Mark and as
so often before, was spent by the drama and the words that speak it.

From great joy to cavernous darkness in so short a space of time -
how do we try to comprehend all of this. How do we lift ourselves
up into the days ahead. Palm Sunday has always been a challenge
to me. This liturgy just bakes my senses and leaves me wanting
Easter's hope and light to rescue me. But also I realize that I need
the time of the entire week to watch, wait and ingest the story. No
matter how many times I experience it, I find I hunger to do it all
again, hoping to find something new, something to hang onto that
will enlighten me.

It is really tough stuff. And as of this night, I am still wondering how
this year's journey will pan out. So I helplessly wait for the clock to
tick and time slowly pass as I try to yet again to understand the power
of this story and where I stand in it.


R