Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace

I grew up in Alaska, and when I came East for college, to the Northeast to be more precise, I noticed some distinctly Roman Catholic influences in the general culture, things like how the dining rooms (we had dining rooms then, rather than dining halls) served fish on Fridays, all the yards decorated with statues of Mary (or the Blessed Mother, in Catholic-speak), and of course the Catholic churches themselves.  In my college town there were three right in a row: the Italians, the Poles, and the French-Canadians each had their own (I’m not sure where the Irish went).  I became aware at some point of the importance of the song “Ave Maria” to people of that faith; I had never heard it, but I learned that apparently it is sung at many Catholic funerals, and could bring Catholics to tears within the first few notes.

The other Sunday at St. Mark’s, it occurred to me that “Amazing Grace” might be the Ave Maria for Protestants.  We sang it that day as the sequence hymn.  As is the custom, we sang the fourth verse (“Through many dangers, toils, and snares…”) a capella, and then Doug came in again, the organ triumphant, for “When we’ve been there ten thousand years…” It was powerful, and I choked up.  I looked around; I wasn’t the only one fighting tears.  A few people were wiping their eyes, some chins were quivering as people sang, one or two that I saw had stopped singing altogether and had bowed their heads, letting the music wash over them. 

We all probably have a connection to that song.  I think of Arlo Guthrie singing it on the album Precious Friend, with Pete Seeger, of the elderly, developmentally disabled man who used to stand outside my dorm with his hand on his heart, serenading us with it, of hearing it on a steel drum in a subway station in New York City, and haunting renditions played by lone bagpipers. 

It was a special moment in a place conducive to special moments, and I won’t forget it.  The children, who have taken to packing themselves together in one of the front pews, aren’t likely to forget it either, even if they weren’t completely aware of what was going on; we, as a church, planted a seed that day.  We gave them a glimpse of the power of church, of love, of grace.  It was amazing.

 

Bess