If you don’t know what a Moravian Lovefeast is, here is an okay description.
This was the fourth Moravian Lovefeast I’ve attended and the third one in which I’ve played. I keep hoping Billy will dig up some piece of music that needs a saxophone, but having to practice clarinet again recently I’ve remembered why I liked it so much in the first place. Plus playing something small means I get to sit next to Toni. We get scolded at least once each Lovefeast and Easter for cutting up.
But my main musings tonight were not on the music (holy cow, the solo soprano!) or the sweet buns and coffee (alas, none for the musicians) or the scripture (“rut-row!”) but on the thousand little noises going on in between.
Services at a mainline protestant church in the U.S. are generally solemn occasions, even when they start with something like this. Crying babies are just unacceptable in Stateside church services, which is just a little disappointing after you spend a significant time at worship services in Ecuador. This kid was crying right at the beginning of the service. Not screaming. Not wailing. Not even crying loudly. Just crying the slightly-tired cry of a really small child. Before the three-song prelude was even finished and the bell rung, the family of five with the baby in question was down the balcony steps, through the Narthex and out the big oak front doors because their kid wouldn’t be quiet. I thought he was doing well in finding the strings section’s key. They thought he was being obnoxious. Though in hindsight, it’s also socially unacceptable to quiet a baby here the way you would in Ecuador.
During the middle of the service while the buns and coffee are being distributed and consumed, the choir, the strings, the full orchestra, and one or two soloists take turns playing pieces, and during the last one (which happened to be an organ/choir-only piece this year) the coffee mugs are collected. I have to admit that the clink-clink-CLINK-clink-clinkity-clink-clink-clink-CLANK-clink-clinkity-clink got to me for a second there right as it started. Maybe it was the sound moving back down the aisles with the Dieners and their trays, or hopefully just my attitude improving (doubt it). But very quickly became musical to me. I think that- much more than the people standing up- and downstairs- just drove home how many people were packed into (what I believe is) the second-largest sanctuary in Elizabeth City.
It was also hilarious to see Billy’s eyebrows get closer and closer together the longer the “clinking” went on. He eventually just rolled his eyes and started to ignore it, but I guarantee that it will be mentioned before the 2009 Lovefeast.
And finally, my favorite little noise of the night. Just before we played “Silent Night” at the end of the service, in came the ushers, Dieners, and Junior Dieners to light all the candles. Off went the electric lights (in a relatively stately manner- not bad for Baptists). The sanctuary held its breath in silent anticipation.
Now in 1818, “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht” was oiginally written for and performed by one unamplified classical guitar. In 2008, it was desecrated by half a dozen grill lighters CLICKing for dear life, trying to set aglow 400 little somethings I’ve always taken to be symbols of simplicity. And while the CLICK CLICK CLICK did make me cringe and will probably set Billy to swearing tomorrow, I think little things like that tend to put us in our place.
We can plan and practice and perfect our performances and services and songs all we want. But what it really comes down to is using those talents (planning, putting together that gigantic bulletin, playing or singing music, or just sitting and appreciating it) that God has given us and giving them back to him.
My philosophical musings are not going to stop me from suggesting that the candles are lit by other candles (in turn lit by matches in the Narthex) next time around. Neither is the fact that I’m not going to be in the Moravian Lovefeast next year (something I’m both extremely excited about and slightly saddened by, and that’s as much information as you’re getting right this second). But initial annoyance or not, I’m thankful for all the “distractions” tonight.
