Since moving back to Eau Claire I've
been participating in my church choir every week. There are a few
reasons for this. First, I believe participating in a choir setting
and learning how to properly sing will make me a better musician all
around. I know this one to be true. Picking out and following one
of four voice parts has already improved my ear. Secondly, I wanted
to get more involved in my church community this time around and
thought choir was a good start. Success on this one, too. I'm
reliably attending services twice a week and have built strong
relationships with people I've gone to church with for years but
hardly spoken to until now. Lastly, I thought taking part in music
making at church would aid me on my faith journey and my relationship
with God. If I have to be honest, I'm still working on this one. I
find myself more often than not focusing on how to properly sing the
music instead of the meaning of the music itself. Focusing on how to
pronounce the words (talking about consonants here, people) instead
of focusing on the Word. But, hey, we're getting there.
This Advent season we had a few pieces
come up featuring violin parts. Our church has no shortage of
talented musicians, including wonderful violin players. We are a
congregation serving students at a university with a strong music
program. Normally we got this covered. But on Sunday the 23rd,
the Sunday after Finals when everyone has already left, we're playing
a version of “O Come O Come Emmanuel” in the style of Hebrew folk
music, with a rocking violin/fiddle part. We couldn't find anyone to
play it and somehow I allowed myself to be volunteered to give it a
try, with a big MAYBE stamped on the end. That is where this story
begins.
I am a middle school orchestra teacher,
so I know my way around a violin. I can tell you all the parts, I
can tune it, I can fix it if ain't too broke. I can play anything a
good but not exceptional 8th grader can play, but that by
no means makes me a violin player. In fact, I'm a bass player, which
on the small spectrum of string instruments is about as far away as
you can get. I'm used to notes being inches away from each other,
not millimeters. I'm used to strings being so far apart that string
crossings are a challenge, not something you do accidentally when
you're being careless. I'm used to strings tuned to fourths, not
fifths. I'm used to my notes being so low and grumbly that they
hardly have to be in tune. I don't really do
solos.
And
yet here I am. Practicing violin every night. Because I have to.
For an accomplished adult violinist this piece would probably be a
sightread. For me it's a project. I've put in a few weeks on this
and it's only now getting there. Granted, I haven't been hitting it
hard every night(I do have a job and other things to accomplish), but
there have been times when I spend an hour or two straight
practicing. It's hard work and even with me taking out a lot of
ornamentation in the song I'm not sure it'll be ready by Sunday.
I love
Christmas music, at least the good stuff. (I'll talk your ear off
about what makes a Christmas song good and what makes one trash, but
that will have to wait for another essay.) Since 2005 I've always
reached a point somewhere in December where I switch over to only
listening to Christmas tunes and never switch back. This year I
switched pretty early, partially because of the December 10th
snowfall, and partially because Sufjan Stevens released yet another
brilliant Chirstmas album. Woe to my roommate for having to hear the
same acoustic renditions of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” on
repeat.
One
carol I've always had a complicated relationship with is “The
Little Drummer Boy.” Musically I've never cared for it. The
melody is pretty weak and the whole “pa-rum-pa-pum-pum” thing is
pretty stupid. But the story, the message, is beautiful. It really
deserves a better song than the one it has been given. A young boy
hears about the birth of baby Jesus, the birth of a new King. He is
ecstatic and excited and wants to honor the king, but he hears of
wise men bringing extravagant gifts from far away lands and here he
has nothing. Nothing but his drum and his song. But he goes anyway
and gives what he has, his little song on his little drum. It's
really kind of funny if you think about it. A newborn child, the
tired parents who have traveled for miles on a donkey and are forced
to sleep out in a barn. You know what they really need to help them
rest right now? A freaking drum solo. But the drummer boy's
bumbling cluelessness is part of what's so endearing and beautiful
about the whole thing. What he has is imperfect but he gives it
anyway.
I
guess this is where I find myself in preparation for Sunday's
service. Just trying to scrape together what I can as a gift to show
my wonder to the newborn King. Sometimes I feel like that little
drummer boy. I'm not poor by any means. I work hard for a
comfortable but modest life that I'm thankful for every day. But
after my few expenses (which are really just rent and groceries) I
don't have much left for tithe. I try to give of myself, through
volunteering, through making myself available to help, and now
through working hard at learning violin. Of course it's not totally
altruistic; as a teacher I will benefit from being better at one of
the instruments I teach. But that was not my reason for taking up
the song in the first place.
This
weekend I played for the Chippewa Valley Symphony Orchestra holiday
concert. For our second half we played selections from Handel's
Messiah. I don't know how much you know about Baroque basso
continuo, but you can probably figure it out from the name; the
basses play continuously. Minute after painful minute of ceaseless
eighth notes. As it goes on it starts to be like a physical
activity, like a sport, where I am focusing on making it through the
pain as much as I am focusing on playing the right notes. When the
concert was done I was physically defeated and just sort of sat
around for 15 minutes. It's a strange feeling creating such
beautiful, sacred music but having such focus on just making it
through. But it's satisfying giving completely of yourself, to the
point of physical exhaustion. And it's gratifying to play with a
large group of great musicians to a large group, glorious music that
has been repeated for centuries.
Sunday
will be very different. Not playing on an instrument that I have
mastered in a group of professional musicians. We are a small choir
at a small church. Most of us make music as a hobby, not a living.
And it will not be a packed auditorium, it will be a small service,
with a large part of the flock having already gone home to their
families. But this excites me more than some large glorious concert.
Just a few of us, trying our best to give what little we can.
Quietly giving of ourselves in the best way we know how, hoping our
gift will be acceptable.
