Choir lofty thoughts

Choir lofty thoughts April 4, 2009

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, and I am so looking forward to it.

I love routines and rituals, the way something done a million times can manifest itself differently and have a different impact every time. The way a familiar, well-read book can contain surprising revelations the 4th time through, or a thread bare phrase can suddenly glow with meaning. The sacraments and high holy days of the Church are even more this way – in the familiar interplay between celebrant and congregation, one part of the ritual giving way to another, the ebb and flow of prayer and response, and the intersection of the vertical and the horizontal – the divine and the mortal – in this interplay, as I began saying in this incredibly run-on sentence, I find both comfort and inspiration. The familiar rites and rituals, already known and understood on a multitude of levels, open themselves up for meditation, prayer, revelation – to being understood deeper, more truly, more personally – every time they are taken up.

So. On that front, anyway, I love all of the movement of the Church calendar.

But I am particularly excited about tomorrow. Because, in addition to the challenging depth in familiarity of a Church feast and holy day, I get to partake of one more familiar sensation, albeit in a new context.

I get to sing in the choir loft.

I’d say, I get to sing with the choir, except that as of yet there really isn’t one. There is an organist-slash-choir director. There is a cantor. There is a single bass and a single soprano, who may or may not show up. And then there’s me, the lone alto. And we haven’t practiced anything together more than once. It will be different from the choir I grew up singing with, every Sunday (and rehearsals every second Thursday) from the day I turned 8 until I graduated highschool. And it will be different from the choirs I’ve been in since then.

But I’ll be in the choir loft. And I’ll sing harmony on at least one hymn. And in the weeks to follow – God willing – there should be more of us, and more singing, and more Sundays in the loft, thrilling to the familiar feeling that is something like nostalgia, something like performance high, and something as simple as just knowing where I am and what comes next.

I’m a stranger in a strange land. But this part – this part feels like home.


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