Wednesday, October 2nd, began as a typical day
for me. Meeting, desk work, playing for
St. James School’s weekly mass, and Treble Choir rehearsal. In the middle of the afternoon, I checked my
email. The Philadelphia Orchestra had
announced a free “Pop Up” concert that evening.
They were supposed to play in Carnegie Hall, NYC, that evening, but were
sent away (tail between their legs) due to a stagehands’ union strike. The orchestra, en route back to Philadelphia,
quickly organized a fun concert of lighter classics, and sent the word out via
social media. (see the parable of the
marriage feast, Matthew 22)
After Treble Choir rehearsal, I was tired, ready to go
home. I almost did just that – but a
feeling of guilt stopped me. Since the
concert was announced barely five hours before it began, surely the hall would
be far from full. Playing for a small
audience can be demoralizing. I decided
I would go, because I feared an empty hall, echoing with the empty claps of a
couple hundred people, and I could empathize with the musicians who pour
themselves into their art when nobody seems to be listening.
I arrived just minutes before it began. Verizon Hall was completely packed. It was abuzz with an energy that I had never
felt before – and was filled with a broader spectrum of age, race, and class
than I had never seen before. The
players were wearing bright colors, the audience in everything from suits to
ripped jeans. I crawled my way into the
middle of the orchestra section – a seat I couldn’t afford at a regular
concert.
The concertmaster walked on stage. The audience went into a roar of
applause. He clearly didn’t know what to
make of it – he gave a nervous look, a nod to acknowledge the audience’s
fervor. The clapping continued. The orchestra could hardly tune. Maestro Yannick walked onto the stage, and
the applause returned to a wild roar. It
was like a rock concert! Yannick soaked
up the applause graciously and the concert began.
Now, I have been to many concerts, heard orchestras of many
different abilities, with audiences of many different levels of appreciation
(for lack of a better word), in many different settings. My expectation, after seeing this crowd and
hearing their untamed applause, was that this was going to be a concert where
people talk audibly during each piece, text on their phones, and walk around at
will as if the concert were a sporting event.
I was completely wrong. This was
one of the most sophisticated audiences I had ever sat with. The silence during the performance was
profound, with the exception of the occasional cry of a young child (truly, a
child’s occasional noise worries parents far more than it bothers concertgoers). At the moment the first piece ended, the
audience jumped to its feet and screamed their appreciation. I had never seen anything like it! I felt the most amazing feeling of community
and belonging, knowing that this packed concert hall was the city’s way of
giving the orchestra a much-needed hug after being booted from NYC. This concert became more than audience
listening to performers – as much as the audience loved and responded to the
music, the orchestra loved and responded to the audience. It was a jam session and everyone was
invited.
Yannick broke a major “rule” and invited the audience to
vote on what piece they would play next.
Like a game show, the audience cheered for the selection they wanted
most. I tell you, it could have been
“The Price is Right”, with the screaming I heard. While the orchestra played the winning piece,
a young boy passionately conducted along with Yannick, in plain sight of both
the maestro and the rest of the audience.
For some reason, this was completely acceptable and everybody seemed to
love it.
Next, an unlikely conductor was brought up to conduct the
orchestra – a ten-year-old girl. (Isaiah
11:6) She was very brave and very
smart! She was an instant hit with the
audience and the orchestra – I had never seen such smiles on the players, and
the audience helped her keep a steady tempo by clapping – again, not a tacky,
drunken Oktoberfest sort of clapping, but instead, a reaction that was
completely natural. By this time I had discerned
that my neighbors were both also big fans of the orchestra – and all three of
us were happily breaking “the rules” by clapping, conducting in our seats. We shared stories about performances we had
heard, like old friends. Never was this
music amusing (literally, “non-thinking”); it fully engaged the soul. Throughout the rest of the evening, I saw the
players laugh out loud, make jokes at maestro Yannick, and simply be human,
along with the rest of us mere mortals.
I am nearly ten years out of college now; back in school, it
was so easy to hold onto high ideals and dreams. Out of school, I have found the professional
world much more brutal and rejecting than I had imagined. But after this concert last Wednesday, my
belief in music to cross human-imposed boundaries and bring a city together (especially
in light of government shutdowns and the array of soul-crushing news that
bombards us every single day) was renewed.
So how does this apply to our life of faith at St.
Martin’s? I sincerely hope that at every
service, the music we make is in the same spirit of Wednesday’s Philadelphia
Orchestra concert. As much as the choir
sings for those in the pews, I hope the people in the pews sing for the
choir. I hope that anyone who comes into
our building feeling rejected, overwhelmed, burdened, hurt, or whatever, is
healed by what we do – and not a “come to church, get a dose of religion” kind
of healed – a healing that is a wake-up call to the soul, a reminder that
indeed there is a force of good working in our world, and that people care and
want to improve things. Every person who
walks in our doors should find relief from the world’s rigid expectations and seek
who they were called to be.
Like the imaginary (well, mostly imaginary) “rules” of the concert
hall, the world has a complete and complex system of rules that govern our
lives. What a horrible thing we humans
do to ourselves and each other! What are
the rules that govern our worship services?
How are we perceived by those outside our community? Which of these is right and good, and which
are bad or a hindrance to our mission? Like
the Philadelphia Orchestra, we have a wealth of gifts to share, and to not
share these gifts would indeed be a sin.
I also sincerely believe that we did just that this last
Sunday – the musical gifts of the choirs, the nourishing gifts of those behind
Wellspring, and the many other spiritual gifts of the congregation. These, like the musical gifts of the
orchestra, are something worth passing on – indeed, too good not to share!
- Erik Meyer
