The roof was gone at Mass today. And, in a sense, it was a storm that did it—a storm of glory in the form of song that pushed against the walls, against the roof, against the heart, and could not be contained. The roof was simply raised up with the power of the notes, the cataract of singing, the passion of praise and wonder and desire and hope. I was looking past the stations, past the carved relief, beyond the stained glass and the gathering of apostles, beyond the Spirit descending, beyond the rafters and straight out into the blue of a high fall day. I was up there…my heart was freed from boundary and any sort of limitation…I was everywhere…with friends in Mexico, in the halls with my students, in Argentina with another friend, in Louisiana, with a friend whose father is dying, with my own father, with the Welcome Table just downstairs…
Each song today was one the choir had done before. But, it was one of those days when I can imagine God grinning and saying, “Sing to me, my people! Set yourself free.”
Let my tears say Amen!
Thanks be to God! what a great post!
Gosh, it's fun to sing sometimes!
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