Notes on Notes

This afternoon I'm preparing the first movement of the Brahms Ein deutsches Requiem for the COChorus reaudition this evening. Technically it's being called a "sectional rehearsal" and altos are to "rehearse" from 8:30 to 10:00, but several of my friends have noted on Facebook that this is really our reaudition for the upcoming season.

You know how you can listen to a piece of music over and over in a short period of time (as I do when preparing for a concert), and then not listen to it for months? During those months, you totally forget about it. Then you play it again and remember, vividly, how much you love that music. The Brahms Requiem brings tears to my eyes each time I sing it, as it is again doing this afternoon.

I've written about this work a number of times. I think I've probably performed it five times since the mid-80s. Each time it has the same affect on me.

As I was organizing my thoughts for this post, the Jazzman came in to tell me a family friend had passed away last night. I felt sad for her children and grandchildren to lose her, and yet relieved for her that she's finished with hospitals and nursing homes and pain.

A new online friend and I have been discussing death and the Seventh-day Adventist perspective on death, which is that the dead are sleeping until the second coming of Christ. I dropped that belief when I was about 19 years old and two of my dearest friends were killed in a car wreck in their first year of college. My experiences with John's death lead me to believe that there is a spirit world where we go. I find no fear in that belief. I don't know if I believe I'll come back—be reincarnated—after a period of time in the spirit world. I tend to hope not; this life hasn't been a piece of cake and I sure don't want to have to live through these hardships again! But fear? No, I don't fear death.

The final movement of the Brahms, in a loose translation from the German, reads:

Into Paradise may the Angel lead them;

at thy coming may the Martyrs receive thee, and bring thee into the holy city Jerusalem.

May the Choir of Angels receive thee, and with Lazarus, once poor, may thou have eternal rest.

I desire to live my life every day so that I have no fear of what comes next.