Yet I have left me seven thousand in Israel... (I Kings 19:18)We know nothing, really, of the parents of St. Mary, not even their names. But all that one need know of them can be seen in the character of their daughter.
It is well to remember this family, who, in a time darker than ours, with a few others such as Zechariah and Elisabeth, Simeon and Anna, and their future son-in-law Joseph, “looked for redemption” (St. Luke 2:38). At that time, as at many times, people considered such things as old-fashioned superstition, or at best something that could not happen in their time and place. It was only a handful that believed the promise of the forefathers, and taught their children of these things (cf. St. Luke 1:54-55 and 1:72-75).
But it was through this little flock, this remnant, that the truth of God endured from generation to generation. It is not without reason that St. Matthew began his account with a genealogy, and St. Luke got around to it by the end of the third chapter.
It was noted in one of the adult discussions that the children of privilege rarely sing in our church choirs; they have too many other options. This is nothing new: throughout the seventeen-plus centuries of organized choral music in the Church, treble choristers have usually come from humble origins. The purposes of God seldom bear fruit among the “one percent” of this or any generation. But God continues to “regard the lowliness of his handmaiden[s].” No one would have expected the faith of a little girl in Nazareth to change the world. Who can tell what these little ones at the Course will do to continue the work of redemption in their generation? “Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD” (Genesis 14:13).
Today is our last full day of rehearsal at the camp; tomorrow we board bus and cars to go rehearse at the churches. We have come far in these few days. The singing has become strong, confident, expressive, and intelligent. Our little tenor section, most of them with newly-changed voices, is splendid. They are singing at a level well beyond their years. May this week be the impetus for a lifetime of song.
For three nights we have sung Evensong in the little Chapel of St. Cecilia where we rehearse. A few of our past directors have seemed to consider these services little more than dress rehearsals for the one that matters on Sunday evening at the conclusion of the Course. With his training under Dr. Guest, Dr. Adelmann knows that every Evensong is important. We must pour all of ourselves into them without regard for the presence or absence of a congregation.
Each year, these Evensongs at Todd Hall are among my favorite aspects of the Course. On this night, the finest music was in the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis of Harold Friedell, and the anthem (linked in Part Two: “Let all the world” by Kenneth Leighton). I was quite overcome with emotion by the end of the service.
Such emotion is at times a negative in my conducting, organ playing, and singing; it interferes with my duty to play or sing the right notes and to lead the choirs entrusted to my care. Yet, without feeling there is no genuine music. The motto by my office door (from St. Augustine) is this: Cantare amantis est, which more or less means “Singing is generated by Love.” Somehow, there must be a balance. One of the old Italian singing-masters said “The heart must burn with fire, but the head must be as cool and clear as ice.” Or as we find in St. Paul:
Psallam spiritu et mente (I Corinthians 14:15)
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