Singin' in the choir

I sing in a church choir that is truly one of the best church choirs in the Pacific Northwest. I don't often blog about this part of my life; my spiritual life is quite private and my singing life even moreso! I have an incredibly average (alto) voice, but I like to work hard and, thankfully, auditions are not required to be part of this ensemble.

This past weekend, the choir gave two performances of Handel's Messiah -- the WHOLE thing -- and the experience of that and the reaction to it is worthy of a blog.

For those of you who don't know the piece (or don't know anything beyond the Hallelujah Chorus), the entire Messiah is 53 pieces of music -- arias, recitatives, choruses. That's nearly three hours of music. We did it with a small (15-piece)orchestra (which is in keeping with the Messiah's baroque origins) and nine professionally-trained soloists. It was fun. It was hard work. It was well done. It was inspiring.

The church pays the musicians and the soloists a (very modest) fee for their work; because, collectively, paying that many people adds up fast, the choir members contribute to paying the musicians and soloists. We don't mind. It's one of the typical costs, I fear, to being in a group that lacks a budget but has high standards. I, of course, earn nothing for my work with the choir, but I contribute to the small paychecks received by the soloists and musicians. So, in a way, the cost of my doing this was roughly equivalent to what it would have cost me to attend a professional performance of the Messiah in NYC. The irony is not lost on me. But that's the part of this blog that's supposed to make you laugh -- I PAY to be able to sing in a really good choir. I'm happy to do it.

However, for audience members, the cost of attending this event was about as cheap as it gets for decent music: canned food or a check made out to a local food pantry. We asked people to be generous, though we didn't specify a minimum number of cans or a minimum donation, nor did we turn people away if they just came to listen (and many did, in fact, come without giving anything). Despite that, our auditorium was packed -- and I do mean packed -- for both performances. In the end, people gave a total of $4588 and 1,319 pounds of canned food. Those numbers alone made me exceedingly happy, as this concert was a benefit for the needy. What better way to start the holiday season???!!

What touched my heart even more than those donations, however, were two letters that the choir director received a few days later, and which he shared with the choir. The first letter came from the first violinist. She is an exceptional musician trained at the London School of Music, a member of our congregation and works both as a pediatrician and a professional musician with local orchestras and festivals. She has, not surprisingly, performed Messiah several times. She praised our choir and soloists as having given a truly outstanding performance, one that she would compare to performances done by professional choirs. The second violinist told me the same thing. Wow. Way to make a bunch of amateurs truly proud! Our heads are a little swelled, but at least we know our hard work paid off.

The second letter, however, is probably the more important one. A woman wrote to the director, telling him that as a child she sang in a church choir and had performed the Messiah. Lately, however, her life has been rough -- she's lost her job, her marriage is falling apart, her car has been repossessed, she's suffering (understandably!) from depression and anxiety and a sleep disorder. But she told our director that for over two and a half hours, she forgot all that and felt peace.

I can't imagine that there is any greater reward performers can receive than knowing that their performances can make people escape, momentarily, from their suffering.

That is really what singing in a church choir is all about. I'm just lucky that the one I sing in is also particularly good.

Bathroom Usage

Sigh. The latest installment in the email arguments over our new church welcome is: "will we have to offer a transgendered bathroom if we open the church to transgenders and transsexuals?"

To be clear, we HAVE opened up our church to all people, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity (among other things). But, I seriously doubt that people who are looking for a place to worship are going to choose us based on whether or not we already have a gender-neutral bathroom. (We don't, though I see no reason why we couldn't do that in the future.)

I just don't think the bathroom issue is the biggest thing on people's minds when they're looking for a place of worship. Call me wild and crazy, but I think if people are looking for a church, they aren't first saying, "Well, the number one thing we need is a church with a transgendered bathroom." Perhaps they're looking for fellowship? Friendship? A decent worship experience? Programs for their kids? Some old-fashioned church music? A way to reconnect with parts of their past that have long been dormant? I doubt it's the bathrooms.

For the few readers who might really be concerned about the bathrooms, I'll offer this: most of the bathrooms in the church are super-small and therefore immediately locked once you're in them anyway. In other words, they're like your lavatories at home: private. They may currently be marked "women" and "men," but there's no reason the labeling on the doors couldn't be changed in the future, if someone voiced a need to have that done.

I'm sick of the stupid reasons people come up with for not welcoming all people to churches (and other places of worship). I'm pretty sure people who come through our doors will find our places of pee adequate enough.

So much to blog, so little time

Today. Today, my quite diverse church -- at least in terms of political leanings -- voted 81% yes in favor of a welcome statement that explicitly describes our congregation as welcoming of ALL people, regardless of race, ethnicity, language group, economic status, gender orientation, sexual identity, or handicap status. For me, of course, this was a no-brainer, an easy "yes," and WAY overdue.

In case you don't realize it, an 81% majority on any issue in a church is an extraordinary thing. You probably couldn't get an 81% majority on votes for colors of pew cushions, or on types of plaques to hang in the memorial hall, and certainly not on the menu items to offer the choir kids. In other words, there would be less unanimity on issues of far less consequence.

Over the past few days, emails have flown, fast and furious, between a few people who were adamantly against this proposed welcome, and a select few of us who had been vocal in our support of it. We knew, based on early survey data, that this welcome was likely to pass at today's congregational meeting. In fact, it passed with a larger margin than was suggested by the data (the survey data had revealed a 75% majority in favor).

The arguments against the welcome have fallen into two camps: a) the anti-homosexual one, and b) the don't-we-already-welcome-everybody-why-should-we-single-some-people-out one. Another line of thinking was that the welcome didn't explicitly proclaim the gospel, though in my humble opinion, that was basically a clever combination of arguments a and b.

I have, predictably, made some enemies by my vocal stance in favor of this issue (in fact, I think this is just the tip of the iceberg; I am all for gay marriage). I have also made some new friends, and discovered that you really cannot predict who is against or in favor of this issue. Some of the most conservative, closed-minded people are about 24 years old; some of the most open-minded are in their 80s (and have invited me to be on committees to schedule talks during adult education hour).

Lesson: never be afraid to speak your mind. Good things sometimes happen when you do.