I wrote this blog several years ago, and just came across it. I wrote it for my choir's blog (Concentus Women's Chorus), but never shared it here. In a year when we can't sing in choirs like this, it hit me especially meaningfully. So, as we prepare to hear Mary's Magnificat this Sunday, enjoy this reflection:
As a pastor in the Rochester area, this season is a pretty busy one for me. While I love Christmas preparations at my church, the time I spend preparing for Concentus Christmas concerts is for me a sacred time. The music we sing, some ancient and some contemporary, is so beautiful, and the texts so compelling. Even our rehearsals seem to offer me a chance for worship and devotion - an opportunity pastors often covet, particularly at this time of year. But in this music, I am given the chance to enter the mystery that is Christ's birth, and dwell there - sometimes in unity and unison, then enchantingly breaking into simple harmonies, and occasionally into dramatic six or eight part complexity. I don't know any better prayer than to lift my voice and join in perfect harmony: "Glory to God!"
One year, before our Christmas concert, we sat together and reflected on what we were about to do, and what it meant to us. I offered, "I really believe this stuff we are singing! Not only do I believe it, but I believe it is something worth singing about. And so it is a joy and privilege to do it with you all today." As I have thought back on that, it has become more and more true. Not all the music we sing is sacred, in that it is not all about God or Christ or Mary (though much of it is). But to me it is all sacred because it all calls on the beautiful potential of life and love and beauty and of each of us contributing to its performance, both singers and collaborating musicians. Not to sound overly dramatic, but I truly feel that being a part of this is a religious experience, one I am privileged to experience every Sunday night.
But I especially feel it at our concerts. This year's Christmas concert fell on the third Sunday in Advent, known as Gaudete or Rejoice Sunday. Liturgically speaking, it is the day in the midst of the season of Advent, the season we wait and hope, when we remember with sparkling eyes what is coming - and rejoice in it! I was delighted that I would get to do that in song this year. Our conductor urged us to let the zest she knows we have shine through in our performance. "You know your notes, now just shine!" I made every effort as we sang to think about the words, and to make my face look like how I felt about them.
Our closing piece was a dramatic version (by Z. Randall Stroope) of the Magnificat, the beautiful song Mary sings when she learns she will bear the Son of God. The harmonies are tight and the accompaniment is four hands piano. There are occasional periods of unison or two part harmony, some parts unaccompanied, one solo section - the variation captures the intensity and variation of the original text, which was quite revolutionary, talking about the mighty being brought down and the lowly lifted up, the hungry being filled and the rich sent away empty, and overall about how God makes good on God's promises, as God has done for generations before and will do for generations following.
As we sang this remarkable work, I did as I had done before - imagine the text and the message so that my face might reflect its meaning. But I found that I didn't get very far before I was so moved by it all that I couldn't sing - I was crying. "For God is mighty, and has done wondrous things to me... He plucked the mighty from their seats, exalting the humble... The hungry will be filled with good things in remembrance of his mercy. He helped Israel, as promised..." I quickly tried to think of something else so I could at least sing the notes. But then came the dramatic end in bold and beautiful harmony: "Glory to the Father! Glory to the Son! Glory to the Holy Ghost! As it was in the beginning and ever shall be, world without end. Amen! Amen! Amen!" I couldn't resist; it was too much to take in. I was completely overcome by the beauty, the drama, the impact, the setting, the women around me, and the promise on which my life and faith are based. This, I thought. This is what it feels like to have worshiped.
Glory to God indeed! Amen! Amen! Amen!
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