There was a vespers service this week. I was part of the team that prepared the cathedral for visitors. It was my first time to carry a flame to the seven lamps and wake them up. It was just a few hours after my friends and I had portrayed the image in Revelation that they were designed to emulate. Ours were silk and wool. These were probably brass, filled with oil. 

Guests arrived early in anticipation of The Red Violin and Elizabeth Pitcairn. The organist too, is wonderful, and this was almost her last time to lay her skilled hands on the Chara Haas Pipe Organ and Allen Digital Organ, after a blessed career of over twenty years. Our daughter Chara was named after the woman who was named after Chara Haas. 

The pews were filled with people who were grateful to be there. I sat in the choir hall, in order to mind the door. But that spot came with a four foot screen and terrific visibility from the live stream. I could watch the women's fingers, as they pranced across the neck of the violin and the keyboard. It was magical.

The service was a marriage of words and melody. They took turns, as good partners do. The minister described it as a sacred space for sights and sound. The colors spilled down from the stained glass, the music flew over our heads like constellations. I know in theory that the notes are born inside a wooden box no bigger than a baby. But really? She filled eight hundred ears without any support from a microphone, with no evidence of struggle. Not only that, Elizabeth often played with her eyes closed. Written reminders seemed superfluous, as the connection between her heart, through her arm to the bow flowed like the water current spoken of in the readings. 

I marveled at the generosity of those instruments. Is there any limit to their capacity to give? The violin is three hundred and three years old, and is not interested in retiring. For as many times as Elizabeth's hands ask, she will bless anyone willing to pause and listen. The organ is equally ready to serve. 

One of the passages spoke of heavenly choirs. The members are guided by 

a sense of unity, that makes prominence by any single angel unthinkable. Such harmony of persons, together with the blend of parts, sounds like a heaven I want to ascend to.