Forty years ago, I gave a party, and because of that party (at least I like to believe this) a choir was born.
We had just moved into a new house. My husband had built the house himself, and though we passed the occupancy inspection, it was not what you would call “finished.” There were no kitchen cabinets, the door trim was still being installed, and I think there was still only one functioning toilet. I was also 8 months pregnant with my third child and so huge I had to make myself a new dress so I would have something to wear.
Still I wanted to give the party. My dear friend and former roommate, Christine Craig, had recently become engaged and was in town for the Christmas holidays. Also, unfinished as it was, I did want to show off the house. So, I got together a guest list of women who knew and loved Christine and planned an afternoon get-together. We had friends from college and Christine’s sisters and friends of friends. Everyone knew Christine, and most knew me, but not all of them knew each other.
I was in and out of the living room (which actually looked finished), taking care of hostessing duties, filling cookie trays and drink glasses, when I heard one of the women (maybe Pam Bookstaber?) say, “It just doesn’t even feel like Christmas when I can’t attend a performance of Benjamin Britten’s ‘A Ceremony of Carols.’” Some of the other women weren’t familiar with the piece, but others were. They explained it was written in 1942, setting ancient carols for a 3-part treble chorus, with harp accompaniment. Those who knew the piece were enthusiastic about the effect of the ancient words and evocative music.
Though before there had been several conversations buzzing in the room, now all were focused on the discussion of Britten’s Christmas piece. Everyone thought it would be great to attend such a performance.
Then Christine’s sister, Martha Sargent, quietly offered, “I could conduct.” Martha had received a BA in music education and was a fine musician. Several others said they would love to sing. Pam said, “I’m not much of a singer, but I’ll take care of logistics, finding a venue, getting a harpist, programs.”
The next year, Martha and Pam got those women together, along with others that were recruited. Someone knew someone who had connections at the local state hospital and they received permission to perform in the wonderful little chapel there. They called their group, which numbered twenty or thirty fine singers, “The Christmas Choir,” because they only practiced and performed for a few weeks at Christmas time. On a weekend in December, I was able to attend their performance, and yes, Britton’s “Ceremony of Carols” is glorious.
And that choir has performed Britton’s “Ceremony” every year since—just about 40 years. More than that, Martha says that because of her experience conducting that choir, she returned to BYU to earn a Master of Music degree in choral conducting. Then she started a year-round community choir performing baroque music, especially Bach. This choir has gained much renown and recently toured in Europe.
I gave a party, and a choir was born--maybe two. Perhaps it would have happened without my party, but I like to think that party was important. We never know when a simple decision to bring people together might have unintended but marvelous consequences. Friendships could begin, political alliances could form, a lonely heart could find understanding.
And, in this case, it could lead to forty years of sublime music. Last night I attended the final public performance of The Christmas Choir. The soprano and alto blended and soared sweetly, singing the ancient words in powerful harmonies: “Wolcum be ye that are here, Wolcum Yole;” “The aungels sungen the shepherd to: Gloria in excelsis Deo;” “Deo gracias! Deo gracias!”
Give thanks indeed, for music, for friendship, for the blessings of God we find in so many ways when we come together to do good.
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