Lost Sheep

Published on Dec. 5, 2012 in the Sun-Gazette

     “All WE LIKE SHEEP,” the huge choir sang Sunday night in Lindsay’s First and only Presbyterian Church, “have gone astray, have gone astray, have go-o-o-o-o-o-on astray.”  It is my friend Robert’s favorite chorus in Handel’s Messiah, and it’s pure pleasure watching him.  With no musical training, he’s still able to sing the complicated lines because Mel Tully, the incredible music director who has led this production 11 times over the last 15 years, found ways for even the untrained to learn their parts.

     The church was packed, a blessing itself.  They were mostly visitors from out of town who came to hear their friends sing or to sing along quietly with their own scores in their laps. But I saw my neighbors there, too. Carlos Sanchez, who has a HVAC business here, was there with his family because his son Danny was singing in the choir, his first Messiah. Singing is what Danny does, and it was pure light to see him in his suit and tie, glowing after the last “Amen.”

     A small orchestra accompanied the choir, mostly members of the Tulare County Symphony. I have occupied the flute chair a couple of times, and sung in the alto section, too.  The music is exciting to make in either position. My singing partner Jesse McCuin was in the bass section Sunday night, gladly joining the others in keeping each other together on entrances. Several years ago he sang two of the bass solos and was a knockout.

     But from my position as listener this time, I heard something new, absorbed another meaning from this ancient composer’s master work beyond the exacting melodic lines, chord progressions, and brilliant instrumentation.

     Seventy people standing in front of an audience confessing in one voice that we, like sheep, have gone astray is a very powerful thing. The miracle of a crowded church bearing witness to this fact is a very powerful thing. The blaring contrast between full pews and almost empty ones, which is what so many of our churches face every Sunday morning, is also very powerful. We have gone astray, and it’s only a small comfort that people in Handel’s time did also.

     This week I’ve been thinking a lot about the parable of the lost sheep. After Alfredo’s death, which I wrote about last week, there’s been a big stray dog in the neighborhood that has scattered my flock of porch cats three times. Never one to miss a meal, Sissy was gone for two days, and after two nights out in the rain calling for her, I was sure she was dead. But she popped up on the porch late Sunday night as I popped open the canned cat food. I was instantly flooded with gladness and let it spill all over her.

     And they say that’s what the Father feels and does when we come back. I don’t think of God as a father or a parent of any kind, so that wording doesn’t really work for me. But shepherdess is a role I can understand, having looked for the missing so many times.

     Many people of faith have wandered away from the church because the churches themselves have gone astray. But scattered through all our small towns there are these empty pews, waiting for the lost sheep to come back and be what people of faith are meant to be to each other: companions on this spirit journey. May the Light of this season help guide us home.
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Trudy Wischemann is an unprogrammed Quaker who sometimes sings into the silence. You can send her stories of your spirit journey - P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA  93247.
- This column is not a news article but the opinion of the writer and does not reflect the views of The Foothills Sun-Gazette newspaper.