23 December
Malachi 3:1-4,23-24 | Psalm 24(25):4-5,8-9,10,14 | Luke 1:57-66
All those who heard of it treasured it in their hearts. ‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him. (Luke 1:66)
Two days ago, a Muslim family boarded the train I was riding to my client’s office. One family member immediately caught my attention, and the eye of everyone else around: a vivacious little girl, more animated than Mickey Mouse, dressed conservatively but giddily hyperactive and LOUD! She spent the next 5 mins on the train alternately exercising her little frame in giggly glee, and clinging to her mother’s leg in love and need of reassurance. Beyond that, she didn’t seem to actively look at anyone else, just spending the time ensconced in her happy little world.
By the time the family alighted, there wasn’t a single dour face around me, and it was clear who the star of that little show was. As she left, I interrupted my daily rosary to say a special prayer for her, asking God to watch over her as she grew up, and inevitably wondering: “What will this child turn out to be?”
✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞
In yesterday’s entry, I bared my uncertainty as to whether being a choir leader was really what God wanted of me. Because I was literally drafted with zero experience by a senior choir member who was unhappy with the abilities of the then-leader, and had to figure out everything about the task on-the-job and on my own, my long-standing weaknesses in dealing with people rapidly came to the fore, and still plague me to this day.
It must have been God’s intention to let me vent first and hint at an answer later, because that’s exactly what happened:
I was trapped at church by a rainstorm yesterday afternoon, so I was rummaging through the choir cupboard for some old unused scores to use as scratch paper. (It amuses me sometimes to doodle my thoughts on a project then, when I hit a mental roadblock, flip the yellowed paper over and hum the ancient hymn on the other side for a bit till the block clears.)
Suddenly, a thunderous sound echoed through the stairwell where I was. It took a few seconds to recognize it as the opening notes to Adeste Fideles, played on what distinctly sounded like a church organ at full volume, but with no visible source. (The main church on the other side of the locked stairwell door was its usual darkened self for the time of day.)
With the full-bodied notes bouncing around the enclosed space, I was…enraptured. There’s no other word for it: to feel the essence of the Most High all around me, by turns gloriously majestic (“GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO!”) and lovingly gentle (“venite adoremus”). It was as if God was speaking directly to me, saying “My child, I have always been with you, and I see into your troubled soul. Wait a while, and you will find the answers you seek. Until then, continue to sing glory to Me, for praise-in-song shall forever be your nature.”
It turned out that one of our resident organists was actually practising on the pipe organ in the dark, with only the organ’s built-in lights to illuminate his score. Still, discovering the mundane source of that heaven-sent music didn’t diminish its impact one bit.
✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞
What will this child (for I am still one by nature) turn out to be?
From a religious standpoint, I have no idea, though it’ll probably involve music in one way or another. Until the next “checkpoint” in my life, I can only sing:
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s for God to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be
Amen.
And so we conclude the O Antiphons today with the inevitable:
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel