Our board chair, Tepring Crocker was in my office. When we finished our board business, she bounded out with glee remarking, “I get to go sing now. It will be the first time I’ve sung with other people outside of my family in many months.” Our Director of Music, Matt Thompson, had figured out a way that we could have four singers spread out across the sanctuary and sing an anthem socially distanced. A few days later someone brought me a video of the raw footage of the anthem. I sat at my desk watching it on my computer and I was transported into a holy realm. Rumor has it that even our choral conductor, Paul Tucker, was overcome with emotion as he sat listening to the singers in the sanctuary. And then yesterday, as we finished filming the sermon and prayers, the clergy each gathered up his/her belongings to head outside for lunch. But when we heard the anthem playing over the speakers each person sat down, in what felt like spontaneous prayer, unable to move an inch. I offer you the words of the anthem today, so that on Sunday you can simply let it wash over you as prayer/praise/worship.
Let me go where’er I will
I hear a skyborn music still:
It sounds from all things old,
It sounds from all things young,
From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul,
Alway, alway something sings.
It is not only in the rose,
It is not only in the bird,
Not only where the rainbow glows,
Nor in the song of woman heard,
But in the darkest, meanest things
There alway, alway something sings.
‘Tis not in the high stars alone,
Nor in the cup of budding flowers,
Nor in the red-breast’s mellow tone,
Nor in the bow that smiles in showers.
But in the darkest, meanest things
There alway, alway something sings.
Thank you Ralph Waldo Emerson. And thank you singers.
Grace and Peace,
Carla
