I got to give two workshops, timed at the most bummer-ish times of the whole convention, and needed extra chairs for both...

I got to conduct 3000 musicians for an hour, beneath the envious glances of a goodly number of educated cathedrally men who probably thought they could have done it better...

I got to hear a wonderful priest--a wonderfully wise and gifted black man from Washington D.C.--give a superb talk about how God loves diversity, and do it in a way that honored everyone--he addressed race, gender, orientation, disability, and a few more isms with pointedness and strength and made me cry and feel like there might be just a little hope, he sang in Greek and he sang in Hebrew and he sang because he was happy and invited us all to sing because we were happy, because we were free...he even made the uptight white male organists relax and laugh a bit. (No small feat. ) He called us out, he called all of us out--but he did it with love. (I think that's what started my tears...for the past few months, I've been reading and hearing all this calling out for all kinds of reasons on all sides, at me, around me, having nothing to do with me, whatever...and most of that calling has been in anger. Righteous, justified anger. This man, a man with as much right to anger as anyone, called us in love, without pity or compromise or any intent to do anything other than speak the truth...but he spoke it in love.) (And he also pointed out that Jesus was most likely a brown guy. Which most people with brain cells know, but it's good to be reminded every once in a while.)

I got to meet friends I'd never met in person before because our relationships to that point had only existed in cyberspace.

I got to hear a convention hall full of people sing my psalm setting, got to hear the cantor part sung by a Spanish-speaker who understands cantillation and instinctively "got" what I had in mind...

I got to conduct 3000 people. (Did I mention that? Okay, I'll say it again) I got to hear and feel them about to pull apart, and I was able to bring them back into unity. And I wasn't afraid. I had the tools in my arsenal, and whenever there was a problem I knew which tool to pull out and use, and how to use it to get the job done.  I got to conduct Gregorian chant, and contemporary Gospel music, and elegant choral anthems, and a lovely bolero piece at Communion time, and a couple of massive and noisy hymn concertatos. I got to stand in the middle of all those voices singing in a big strong joyous forte on the fourth verse, as they decided without consulting with each other but knowing it was just right that they would dial it up to 11 for verse 5...

God, it was amazing.

And I'm tired.
--J