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

The Eve of Holy Week

Once again - the anticipation of the journey into and through Holy Week.
It is quiet and slightly hushed in my home tonight. Inside it is in its usual
state of clutter. Outside the landscapers have completed the annual spring
clean-up.

Funny how it speaks to my personal sense of order and disorder. I appear
to be cleaned up and ready for life on the outside - just like the yard, but
inside my feelings and senses are in a slightly disordered state. I await the
journey of Holy Week, its daily countdown to remembrance of the
crucifixion and the dark time that follows until the Vigil and that journey
from darkness to light and the ecstasy of the pure light of Easter Morning.

Every year I watch and contemplate my own steps and the liturgical steps
that lead and challenge me. I want and need to enter the mystery and seek
some newer understanding of it all. I want and need to do this and I want and
need to open myself to new possibilities. The role of seeker seems easy
initially, but the work must be steady and focused. In my congregation
opportunities to serve, sing, read and just be present encroach on the
quietude of the week. But these are the tools that open me to a deeper
sense of it all.

I have chosen to take the book called "The Last Week" by Marcus Borg
and John Dominic Crossan with me. It will be my daily fellow journeyer
as I walk and remember.

Being a person of faith is work. And it offers one so much more if one
is attentive and open.  My prayer is to watch and in watching renew
my inner self in a different way - still honest to my own short-comings,
but ready to really journey.



R

Redemption - from the cinema

Strange - how sometimes as we click from one station to another,
we inadvertently select the most extraordinary film moment of a
beloved piece. Of course, I happened to do that very thing tonight.
Between the murder, mayhem and news of the day I came upon
the moment in the "Shawshank Redemption" that always puts me
over the moon. Could it have actually happened the way it was
presented? Most likely not. But it for me is the pivotal moment in
the entire film - everything is slightly different after this scene and
how wonder-filled my opportunity to click on just that incredible scene.

It is when the Tim Robbins character locks himself in the warden's office
and broadcasts over the prison public address system Mozart's sublime duet
between the Countess and Susanna in " Le Nozze di Figaro." It always
gives me particular pause when it is performed. But in this film the
entire prison population stops, listens, and time seems suspended by
this unexpected interruption of their daily life. The beauty of art transforms
the moment and unexpectedly brings hope and transcendence to those
under incarceration. It is timeless and more beautiful than anything nature
can evoke in us.

Morgan Freeman's character says he did not what what those two ladies
were singing about but the day was suddenly different and redemptive.
Art has such power when it is inserted into our lives and we stop and let
it flow freely into our souls.

In our current political unrest, we need to hope for and experience this kind
of interruption from Art. This kind of "break" is what will transform and
inform our lives and allow us to rebirth ourselves - if only for a much
needed moment.


R

"Doing" Lent...

Are you like me this far into Lent? Remember all the things you thought
you wanted to take on or "do" this Lent? Here I find myself well into this Lent
and all the things I had hoped to take on or "do" have been left to the side
of every day existence and the busyness we create in our daily lives.

I ask myself - why have I done this again? Is this a Lenten block I have
over zealously created? Do I, or maybe the question is, can/could/would I
"do" Lent in a way I think personal discipline and faith call me to do?
Or am I just unable or perhaps more truthfully, not willing to take it
full on. Oh, the reading I planned to do, the meditation time I wanted to
set aside, even a little prayer time I wanted to create and explore.

So here I am in mid-Lent just bumbling along and full of questions and
far removed from my planned disciplines, again. Perhaps I have an
unacknowledged fear of what I might find or even more to the point,
what I most likely would not find. I know I am not alone in this. And perhaps
I am more willing to admit this than others. That might be a piece of the
truth I am seeking. I don't feel guilty, I don't feel any sense of a failure;
I just feel unable to commit to a discipline that might engender new
awakenings and deeper commitments. Maybe.

I shall persevere. I look forward to all of Holy Week and the Great Vigil of
Easter and then the ice cream of Easter Morning. But the forty days
keep eluding me.

The big maybe is that perhaps next year.......maybe.


R

Not Satisfactory

I just returned home from a performance of "The Merchant of Venice" at
the Trinity Rep in Providence. I went with some very special friends who not
only live nearby but who also subscribe, and I may add without prejudice -
really dear and wonderful friends.

Usually, this company inspires, takes creative risks, challenges you as
an audience member, and can often shed new light on old as well as new
works. Once in a great while - they totally miss and tonight was one of
those times. Yes - this particular play is difficult to produce in our current
politically correct landscape, but this was a major miscalculation and not
a qualified risk.

 A great Portia, Shylock or Antonio can save any production, but one out
of three can not. This was a director's piece in this presentation and the
failure to execute the furrows and plantings of this text did not create
a reality that benefited this piece.

The clowns were over the top and distracted from the dark tragi-comedy.
They suspended any truth that might be told and just did not fit, a major
miscalculation from the director. I was left with more unanswered questions
about chatacter relationships and development. If the text is missing any
of this (which is not typical of Shakespeare) then the director must add this
in the visual representation. So much was missed this way that the tying of
loose ends of the plot at the end were left unexpressed.

Shylock did not break my heart, Jessica's issues were left unresolved, Portia
fell short in the trial scene, Lorenzo was underdefined, Bassanio just missed
the mark. In a work that demands a clear focus on each character and their
individual motivation and then the complicated interrelationships, the director
did not create the needed clarity. So we in the audience could only reach
for conclusions that were not expressed in the performance. It should not
be this way.

Thoughts just after midnight

It is late. I feel a certain responsibility to post. This begs the question - where
am I and what am I feeling just now?

I am thankful for the people who persevere with me and who choose to
accept me just as I am. As a person seeking to grow and bloom in new
unexplored ways, I greet those on my way with gratitude to endure with
me the pangs of personal growth.

My inter-relationships with friends are the map and pathway for my own growth
and perhaps theirs as well. There is a mutuality in this journey. I am so aware that
to do any of this, one must accept the reality that it can not be a solo attempt.
Nurture and growth come in the community of experience and sharing that
opens the portal of new being.

My road is open. I comtemplate new possibilities. I shudder with what might be.
Fractured by my own fear, I still have hope. I surge forth with promise. And
I await the next dawn of possibility.


R