Yup, it's that time of year when my parish has the yearly meeting, and I am required to give a Choir Director Report. For the first number of years, I took this as an opportunity to educate the parish about the role of music in the church, about liturgics, about church history. In the last few years, however, I've veered away from music and/or liturgical things, and have given what can only be called a sermon, a sermon that I wish my priest would give, but he will not. So, once again, I've written a sermon. Here it is:
Choir
Director Report
2017
Once again, it is
time for me to give the yearly Choir Director Report. I'm not going
to rehash things I've said in years past about the role of music in
the Orthodox Church, and importance of giving our first fruits to
God, and not just the crumbs left over from all the other things that
seem to be more important.
First, everyone
should let everyone know that Christopher George Flippo is my
assistant. He volunteered, probably not truly understanding what
being the choir director truly involves, and I am grateful that he
did. He is learning all aspects and helping me, so be supportive of
his efforts. It takes a while to become a competent director, and
longer to become an excellent director. I have no doubt that he will
be an excellent director, none at all. If I am absent, he is in
charge. If he is also absent, then Subdeacon John and Reader Isaac
are in charge of the choir and the readers. Thank you to all three
for stepping up to the plate when I am unable to! Thank you also to
Xenia, who I miss so very much, who has been my right hand and
dearest friend all these many years.
The choir is in a
transitional state. We've got some changes in our roster of singers,
and you will note over time that there are some changes to the music
that we sing. I say this every year, and every year, we have learned
some new music. This year will be a little different, because much of
what we have sung over the years requires four parts and doesn't work
well with only two parts. You may have noticed that many Sundays,
there are not four parts in the choir, so I would be remiss if I did
not prepare for that. So, things are changing. Change is hard for
many people, so please be patient as we adjust to the new choir
reality.
*********************************************
As I wrote the first
few paragraphs of this yearly report, I was sitting safe and sound in
Xenia's living room in Atlanta. I evacuated my home and was waiting
for Hurricane Irma to hit. I had done everything I could to prepare
for what looked to be a catastrophic landfall in Savannah, and I had
no idea whether I would have a home to return to or not. I had to
make some very hard decisions about what to take with me and what to
leave to the elements and the mercy of God. I'm no different from
everyone in this room today. We all had to make the same decisions
without knowing the outcome.
Isn't this a
metaphor for life? Don't we all make preparations as best we can for
what comes next? Sometimes we choose to not make preparations, and
that is preparation of a sort. No matter what we do, though, the
final outcome depends on the mercy of God.
Can we think about
this for a minute? I am the choir director. As such, I must plan
ahead. I plan about three months out – so, in September, I am
thinking about December. I need to plan the music that is best suited
to the voices we have, what we will rehearse and when, what we will
sing; I need to keep on top of filing music, repairing and recreating
music books. I need to plan what will happen if I am out sick, and
finally, I need to prepare for my replacement. I'm not going anywhere
soon, but I would be foolish to not train an assistant who will
eventually replace me when I move on to my next stage, whether that
be through retirement or death!
We know already that
within the next year or two, our priest will retire, and we hope and
pray that we will not be without a priest for long. We don't know how
that will all work out – who will be sent to us, how we will
integrate him and his family, if he has one, into our loving church
family, and what challenges we will face in doing so – but, we know
that by the grace of God, St. Mary Magdalene Church has always, and
will continue, to persevere.
However, just like
preparing for Hurricane Irma, we all need to make some hard choices.
Look around the room today, we are a family. I recently had this
brought home to me when I needed some help with some repairs to my
house, and my brother and sisters in Christ – my family – helped
me. Thank you Brian, Kathy, Chloe and even little William. I was
reminded by their selfless efforts, and the offers of assistance from
others, like the Holleys and Tom Maty, that we are, indeed, a family
here. Like any family, we get along and sometimes maybe we don't, but
we love each other and help each other the best we can. We work
together. But there are not a lot of us. The people in this room are
who we can depend on to keep the doors of this church open. There is
no one else.
So, when I say that
I had to choose what I should save and what I could save from
Hurricane Irma, and what I had to leave behind, I am struck by the
fact that in our life together, in our desire to have a church to
worship in, and a church family to worship with, sometimes we have to
make hard choices about our lives, too, about the activities we
participate in and those that may conflict with our desire to have a
church here in Rincon.
More importantly, we
have to make hard choices about our priorities, about how we spend
our time, our talents, our money, our energy. I know that if I do not
wash my dishes, there is no one else to do that for me, and
eventually, unwashed dishes become a major problem on a lot of
levels. Dishes do not magically wash themselves. However, here, at
church, it is so easy to let someone else do the dishes. When we
arrive at church, the grounds look so beautiful – we can proud of
how beautiful our property always looks. When we arrive at church,
late, the clergy and choir are already here to do liturgy, a word
which means, literally, the common work of the people. There is oil
in the lamps and candles available to light. Everyone has prepared
and knows how to perform their role in the common worship. There is a
clean bathroom and toilet paper. When we come to the residence, there
is food to eat, and the place is clean. Dishes are done. Bills are
paid. This is not magic. People make these things happen. The same
people, week after week, get here early, stay late, come during the
week, and ensure that you have a church to come to.
You may think that
I'm gearing up to ask people to volunteer to do some of these things,
and although that would be great, that is not my point. My point is
this:
Orthodoxy is not
what we do on Sunday mornings. Orthodoxy is the true faith, nothing
more and certainly nothing less, and when we treat this gift of faith
as someplace we go on occasional Sunday mornings, we are making a
choice. Orthodoxy is so much more than that, it is a life, - not a
lifestyle, but life itself. We choose how we organize our life and
our priorities. Now, you may say, Denise, it's easier for you – you
don't have small children to worry about, or a husband to take care
of, so you have lots of time. You can devote your life to the
church. It's true, I don't have those things – now – and
therefore I, and I alone, choose my priorities, but I work many
hours, just like you. I have had a husband, a young and very sick
child, a home based business, a full-time and demanding job,
homeschooling, and elderly and sickly parents – all at the same
time, so I certainly understand that modern life is busy, over
scheduled, exhausting, and setting an alarm to get up early on Sunday
morning is the last thing you want to do.
However, Sunday
morning liturgy is not the only way to participate in and support
this church, this church family, and ultimately, to make
preparations, the best we can, for that moment when we meet our
Creator and take our place with the sheep on the right, or, with the
goats on the left. We need to keep that goal in mind when we organize
our lives and make room for participation in the church services –
all the services – and to serve the church by offering our talents.
As the choir director, I know that we have good singers who do not
offer their gift by singing in the choir. I know that there is not a
single person who is unable to be on a food team, or who is incapable
of washing the coffee pot, or pushing a broom. There is not one
person here who is incapable of making it to church early enough to
hear these words, “Blessed is the Kingdom.” If you don't know
exactly where these words occur, then that should tell you something.
So, as I finish
this, I'm still sitting in Xenia's house in Atlanta, but Hurricane
Irma has come and gone, and when I get home tomorrow, I will know if
the preparations I made were enough to keep my home safe. My true
home, though, is not at 318 Montclair Blvd in Savannah. My true home
is with my Lord and my Savior, Jesus Christ, where I hope to sing
with the heavenly choir forever. I've been thinking about the
preparations I am making for that, and to my chagrin, I realize that
my priorities, the way I've organized my life, the way I spend the
minutes and hours of my days, are not pointing me toward that goal.
My preparations thus far are insufficient, are inadequate. This
hurricane has caused me to pray and to reflect on how I have spent my
life thus far, and how I can more fully enter into an Orthodox life,
right here, in this church, in this church family, with you, my
brothers and sisters. This hurricane is a wake up call. May we all
wake up.
