I drive a half an hour to my church, and half the time I go alone. I go early because of choir rehearsal. Of choir rehearsal, perhaps the less said the better. As I drive there, I have to remind myself that Jesus didn’t gather the well-bred, well-mannered and healthy around him. A Christian community worth its salt will have misfits and people whose disabilities are uncomfortable to be around at times. Such is our small choir. And yet I wouldn’t give it up, I love it.
And then there are days like today when every lyric we sang spoke to me. Being in the choir and rehearsing gives me extra time with the music and lyrics, and they are usually worthwhile.
Today we also had a very fine sermon from our guest celebrant, the same retired priest who was with us for several months during our rector search. (Our church is hard on priests, seemingly. No sooner had our new rector, Father Matt, taken up the reins than he has had to go in for back surgery.)
The prayers, the liturgy, all of it was speaking to me today. I am so glad to be able to have this experience.