There was a small epiphany in church last week when we sang the recessional “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” a German chorale in which we basses must jump around more limberly than we may be used to. A tough part compared to “When the Roll Is Called up Yonder” and I stood in the rear and struggled with it and then
as the choir recessed down the main aisle and came up and stood in the side aisles, three basses wound up standing near me, like border collies alongside the lost sheep, and I got myself in their draft and we sang our way to the barn. (Moral: get with the group — just make sure it’s the right one.)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
From Garrison Keillor - what a great metaphor. This is from his story entitled "A Pagan's Thoughts at Eastertide" which you can read here.