Comfort Ye

Tonight we had our church choir's Christmas concert at the Cathedral of Saint-Eustache (Yes, not only did Lionel accept my ridiculous audition, he even gave me a few solos!).  Among other things, we sang part one of Handel's Messiah. 

After the orchestra prelude, the tenor soloist begins the sung portion of the Messiah with "Comfort Ye".  I've always liked this piece, and I was excited to hear Stephane, the church's cantor, sing it. As soon as he began to sing, I felt like I was hearing the words "Comfort Ye" for the first time in my entire life, which was strange because, as Stephane sang it, they were more like "Confahrt Yeae".  Suddenly, as his voice filled the massive cathedral, my eyes started to well up. 

Life in another country can be difficult.  Separated from people by a language barrier, it is simply impossible to speak as much as is desired, or is necessary, to function socially.  Increasingly, you withdraw into yourself because it is too difficult to attempt to communicate with others.  In addition, there is an enormous amount of confusing paperwork at every turn, and the future is frustratingly uncertain.  Without knowing how to do practically everything in a new environment, and being without the ability to ask anyone, you start to doubt your own abilities, and wonder if everyone you meet views you as incompetent. After all, how is it that you don't know how to write a check or take the bus?  You're not from Mars, after all, and these things do exist in your home country. To top it off, it's easy to become insecure about every facet of yourself as people scrutinize you, your language, and your culture.  Even the most kind and well-meaning people can make you feel bad without intending to, simply by making assumptions about you or your values based on shows like the Simpsons, or political decisions made by US government officials who were elected before your birth. 

As I sat in the choir stall and let Stephane's beautiful voice wash over me, I finally understood the words "Comfort Ye."  Seek solace where you can find it, because it's little things that make the big things possible. Through my participation in the choir, I am able to remind myself weekly that I am, in fact, not incompetent.  Although I often have no idea what people are saying, as soon as we begin to sing, I am absolutely sure of myself.  Sitting there, I knew that whether it be in France, the USA, Cambodia or Costa Rica, what I've learned about singing in my home country will not be ridiculed or torn apart, because it is solid.  I can take my musical training with me anywhere, and it will translate perfectly.  In the moments of that tenor solo, I was comforted by the knowledge that my musicianship - my American musicianship - is equally appreciated in France as at home, and I am not so different from my French neighbors after all.