Every church music director has a mixture of excitement and dread in the days and weeks leading up to Easter. Culminating in the Triduum, the last three days of Holy Week, there’s never a question that the work will be anything less than physically and emotionally exhausting. And now that I’m serving the two largest churches in San Francisco, Grace Cathedral and St. Ignatius Church, it almost feels like I am getting a double-whammy.
Nerves are frayed as the stress builds; and there’s no place where that is more palpable than in choirs. I direct the Camerata Choir at Grace, a volunteer ensemble of 23 singers. And precisely because they are all volunteers, my job is as much pastoral as it is musical. With every correction, every facial expression, I must think: “How can I best help them discover how fulfilling it is to make music as beautifully as possible? How can I build them up so that they want to do their best? How can I boost the group’s morale? How stern should I be when bad habits, or simply laziness, shows its face? For the most part, we got along extremely well as an ensemble, but I could definitely see the ways that stress and anxiety were working their way into people’s body language.
The same was true at St. Ignatius, where I played the Tre Ore liturgy midday on Good Friday. I walk a bit of a tightrope there, clearly Classically oriented (and as such, a member of the 11:00 Sunday choral ensemble) but also working frequently with the Contemporary Ensemble, as well as the directors of each group. It’s a constant reminder for me to mind my own business and trust others to work out the things which they need to work out. How quick I would have been, in the past, to jump in and help fix and improve things. Wrong approach! The current method is close kin to Buddhist non-attachment (quite a different concept from “detachment” which assumes emotional disinterest). For me, it’s the only sane way to live.
So, after Easter and its celebration and feasting were over, I headed out the door to play a recital at St. Norbert’s Abbey in De Pere, WI – where I find myself now. I hadn’t realized, until I got here today, just how desperate I was for some quiet and stillness. This is a spectacular spot, beautifully landscaped, and with a pristine-yet-elegant church in which I can make music. Six seconds of reverberation make my program of French music from between the wars sound absolutely perfect! The hospitality is equally warm and stimulating. In short, it’s bliss to be here.
I walked the large labyrinth they have here outside in the grass; and as I often do when I walk the labyrinth, I held a particular question in my mind: What is my heart’s desire? What came up was simple: stillness, quiet, a break from constant thinking about my future. OK, so that’s not my ultimate desire, obviously, but it’s my desire at this moment. And more than likely, it’s these moments of stillness that will inform the public Jonathan with his big plans for the future.