Yes, yes, yes and YES!

There's something else I've discovered as I continue to unpack my experience of singing with my church choir. Maybe two something elses.

The first thing is a joyful relief at realizing that I am not in charge. It is hard for me to put into words the depth of this joy, but it is like the joy one should associate with childhood. I have always been an uber-responsible person, even when I lacked the specific know-how for the responsibilities that were mine. I think the type of responsibility I have carried has had a strong scent of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. For example, I remember one year when we had a big snowstorm here in Steubenville. After shoveling my sidewalk, I was heading out down the street to essentially shovel the entire street. Because if I wasn't going to do it, who would, you know? And where music is concerned, I have always felt that leading is a sacrifice, because I have no particular talent for leading others. But I did not realize how much of a strain I felt in this until I reflected on how much joy I get out of being part of a choir, led very competently by someone else. Because perhaps the only thing more stressful to me than leading is following someone with whom I find reason to internally critique.

It is just so wonderful that I can flub parts and still hear the director say, "Ok, that was pretty good" to the choir as a whole. I am relieved that the world does not come crashing down if I make a mistake. And it is even better to have mistakes that I am responsible for pointed out and corrected. I know that might be hard for some people to believe, but try going through life without any correction. I tell you, it is dreadful.

The other thing that I've been digging into is the realization that I have not sung in a church choir since becoming a Catholic, so not in the last 16 years or so. Longer than that, really, but it's the Catholic factor, not the time factor I'm thinking of now. There are a few reasons for that, but today I thought of this fact in light of one particular experience. Just after I was confirmed as a Catholic, I went to the Holy Land on pilgrimage with a group led by John Michael Talbot. I was convinced theologically of the truths of Catholicism, but life with Catholic folks was still foreign to me. I struggled hard with the emphasis on holy things and holy places and I was lonely for the world I understood, where everything spiritual was invisible. One night we prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, and I felt this loneliness terribly. I knew that somewhere, the Catholic Church was hiding great riches, great deep spiritual beauty, vibrant, breath-taking, wonderful life... but I didn't know how I was going to find it. As I agonized over this, the priest who was with our group announced it was time to leave, but before we did we could come and touch the rock where Jesus was said to have prayed. With tears I cried out in my heart to Jesus, "Lord, I don't want to touch some stupid rock! I want to touch YOU!"

I know now that the great riches, the beauty, the vibrant life is to be found in those who live the fullness of our Faith. We hold this treasure in earthen vessels. And I won't say that I've held myself back from parish life since that time. I made slow forays, and have had lots of other life adjustments to make with marriage and children. But I did not sing in a choir, even though I love music. There is a kind of holding back there, a sort of fear of having it all turn out to be a lie. But what I realized today is how I have finally opened myself to really verifying that the promise held out to me in entering the Catholic Church by opening myself up to these choir people, most of whom I didn't really know three months ago. Even the opportunity to do so is a gift from God, a gift that I needed others to help me see and embrace. This has been like a conscious, purposeful path of testing whether what God promises is true. And yes, yes, yes and YES -- it is. God is present in the Body of Christ, His people.