Convergence

I have just arrived home from three days in Toronto. I am renewed, refreshed and ready to continue along this path of change.

The reason for the trip to Toronto was to attend a reunion of a choir in which I once sang. The conductor of this choir is a man dear to my heart who has provided some of the most profound musical experiences of my life. This was to be his final concert as he retires after thirty three years of teaching music to theological students at Knox College.

The call for Knox College Choir alumni came out several months before, and I was glad to answer. What a chance to sing once again with this marvellous group. What a chance to see some old friends and make some wonderful music!

It was all set up. I would stay with my dear friend, the maid of honour at my wedding 25 years ago. I would travel by train, and see some people I haven't connected with except electronically for a long time.

The train departure time of 6:30 am was brutal, but necessary in order to arrive for the 2:00 pm rehearsal. I didn't mind. It gave me time for lunch and to see a former classmate for coffee at 1:00 pm. My hostess met me, and we ate. We then went to see our friend, now a professor at the University of Toronto. A few sweet, stolen moments from a hectic day, but long enough to know that time didn't matter - it might have been yesterday that we last spoke.

Off to the rehearsal, this time by myself. Many dear friends, much hugging and kissing.

We settled in to work on our five pieces and had them ready in less than two hours. There was a reception for us, and much laughing, many stories and catching up. Many more old friends at the reception - from church, from camps, from all over. A very special time, but too short.

The next morning, breakfast with another old friend who is curiously unchanged, even after nearly two decades.

Next a visit to the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) to see the Dead Sea Scrolls. An allegory here - the Word of God in tiny, fragile form, much like the tiny, fragile One who came at Christmas. These delicate bits of parchment and leather have had a huge influence on faith and history, and they are there, right in front of me!

After lunch, a quick trip home to change and prepare for the concert. Off to dinner and rehearsal, and then the waiting time, when the air is electric with excitement and anticipation of the performance.

The concert begins, and from the start it is glorious. A brass quintet joining seamlessly with the baroque organ, the choir singing with all their heart, the sounds mingling, pulsing, charming. This music director has always had the ability to draw from the choir an emotional response and interpretation of the music. The choir ceases to be a number of individuals and becomes one body, singing praise. The music converges in the director who sends it to a higher power. It is not for him, and he does not accept it. It is for the One whom he serves, and the power of this symbiosis of director and choir worshipping together, offering, feeling, places the music in another realm.

Other offerings are made - a harp, a folksinger's offering, a contemporary artist's interpretation of an old favourite, a beautiful classical solo sung by a master. The lights twinkle in the neo-gothic chapel. The stone arches are gilded in the warm half-light of candles and incandescent bulbs. Greenery and bows remind of the festive season of Christmas, and one feels that this is truly IT.

As the concert draws to a close, I feel like crying. I want to do this all over again, and savour it, hold it to my heart. It will be the last time I sing with this director - won't it? I remind myself how fortunate I am to be there. I remind myself that, fifteen years ago, I sang "for the last time" under the direction of my dear friend John.

Never say never again.