When things go right, nobody notices they are going
at all. When things go wrong, it is
amazing what one learns.
If you were at the eleven o’clock Mass last week, you
noticed the paramedics in the choir right before Holy Communion. Gemma Adami, a choir member famous for her
remarkable soprano voice since the days of Msgr. Stricker, lost consciousness
and slumped in her chair. After she was
deftly removed to the hospital for tests, she bounced back quickly, and it was
determined nothing grave had occurred.
She benefitted from the prayers of all who offered them for her.
This was not a good thing in itself, and I would not
seek to see it repeated. But it revealed
something beautiful that I want to share with you.
When Gemma lost consciousness, the other choir
members responded. I found out what was
happening when two of the other sopranos came out side to guide in the
EMTs. Their concern for Gemma was
obvious and genuine. They had noticed she was not doing very well earlier in
the Mass, and had been keeping an eye on her and talking to her about how she
felt.
When I arrived to lead the medics into the choir and
give Gemma the sacrament of anointing, other choristers were at work gently
caring for the unconscious Gemma, and trying to reach her family members. As the medics carried her to the ambulance,
the singers were recounting to them everything that Gemma had said or done that
might shed light on her condition.
Something beautiful was at work in all this,
too. I could not help but marvel at the
genuine friendship and affection that obviously exists in the choir, and the
great care they have for one another.
This is all the more remarkable because of the broad range of age and
experience in the group. While Gemma is
in her sixth decade singing for us, some of the others are in their first
year. The sopranos who were so attentive
to her are the age of her granddaughters.
This broad variety of people come together to sing
and praise God every week in our parish, uniting men and women of diverse
backgrounds in one common endeavor of glorifying God. They form a microcosm of the parish itself,
with bonds that grow strong and beautiful, manifest for all who have eyes to
see.
Right before Easter, another chorister, Bernice
Bartlett, died at the age of 95. A
remarkable woman who was always smiling and loved to be with the choir even
though she wasn’t up to singing the more demanding pieces, she was loved and
respected by the singers. This was clear
when they all sang for her funeral -- on
Wednesday morning of Holy Week, the most demanding time of the year for church
singers. This was a beautiful display
the true bonds of community that exist across differences that divide other
aspects of society, as some who knew, loved and sang for her were not even
one-quarter her age.
Yes, one of the things I want to do by this is to
encourage you to consider joining one of our choirs. There is probably someone there already with
whom you have something in common, but not everything. It is famously said that he who sings prays
twice, and singing together makes for a powerful union in prayer. Who among us does not need to strengthen that
union?
But also, I want to draw your attention to the
strength of the communion you already have within our praying and singing
parish, in which more folks than you realize know about you and care for
you. We help one another and pray for
one another even when it our particular need is not so obvious to everyone. Last Sunday morning Gemma received more prayer
and assistance than she will ever know.
You don’t have to wait for something to go wrong, much less accrue her
kind of seniority around here, to receive the exact same thing.
Monsignor Smith
