Transcendence

  In a way, it somehow feels wrong to think that God already has begun to create good out of yesterday's chaos in Newtown, Connecticut. It somehow feels insensitive to even entertain the notion that good can emerge from something so horrific, so unspeakably cruel, as the mass shooting of 20 elementary school children and the six heroic adults who gave their lives in an attempt to protect precious young lives. Yet the efforts and expertise of first responders began to reveal the nobler side of humanity immediately, even as we watched and listened in horror as the outrageous evil unfolded.
  If nothing else, the tragedy has drawn us together. In many cases, it has brought us to our knees in prayer. It has caused us to hug our loved ones more often and to say "I love you" and "thank you".  It has turned our hearts to compassion and our minds to seeking solutions. It has leveled our humanity as we watch our leaders brush away their tears and distraught parents cling to one another in shock.
  Thus I unwittingly have given myself permission today to feel hope. It percolated within me as I listened to my church choir rehearsing the "Gloria" cantatas composed by Antonio Vivaldi and John Rutter. As the choir's rich vocal tones swelled and receded with the music's passion, as kettle drums reverberated throughout the sanctuary, as brass and strings echoed and enhanced the joyful sound, music transcended the despair we all feel. It lifted my spirit to a holy place as praise and prayer expressed in words and notes spanning centuries surrounded me.
  As I observed the individual choir members, I began to reflect on my association with them. Some have been my friends and acquaintances for more than 30 years. Some of us reared our children together. Some of us traveled together to Germany, Switzerland and Austria in 1990 to share the experience of a choral concert tour. Some I know only by name. Some I do not know even that. Some of them are unemployed. At least one is experiencing a heartbreaking marital crisis, while another is glowing with the joy and anticipation of her upcoming wedding. One has recently celebrated the anniversary of more than 60 years of marriage. Some are recovering from serious health issues. Some are caring for ailing family members, and some are struggling with issues associated with aging. Their experiences represent a microcosm of human experience everywhere. Still, in this moment, they have embraced the gift of music together. Their voices blend in hauntingly yet soothingly beautiful chants and then reach in vibrant crescendoes of "gloria" and "amen". They invoke a celebration of creation and beauty even in the midst of our national agony.
  Tonight, as I reach for the words to express my thoughts, I listen to a member of The Tenors, a popular and talented quartet,  sing "Bring Him Home" from the musical version of "Les Miserables," a masterpiece of grace and mercy. And now all four members of the group,  joined by female vocalist Natalie Grant, are losing themselves in their rendition of "Amazing Grace." This is creation. This is hope.
  If we can notice moments of grace, soak it up, infuse ourselves with it, hope will prevail. We can co-create. We can heal.