A Festival of Carols: Mexico edition

In the spirit of full self-disclosure, before you proceed, dear reader, know that if I´m a snob about anything, it´s choral music. Now. Read to your heart´s content.

I wasn't worried about too many things before I came to Mexico. My summer was so busy, I honestly didn't have time to imagine what awful calamities might befall me...or more likely, what I would miss terribly, or what aspect of culture shock would spin me on my head. I did worry about the fact that I wouldn't be singing on a regular basis. Each of the last 14 years of my life found me involved in a choir...beginning with six years making music with the Shenandoah Valley Children's Choir, followed by high school choir and ending with participation in four choirs at Goshen College.

Soon after arriving in San Cristóbal, Martín informed me that INESIN would be forming an inter-confessional choir in November. I was so excited! What a great way to meet new people and continue my tradition of choral singing. We were even going to receive a volunteer from Switzerland with musical training to help us for six weeks!

Well, upon attending the first rehearsal, I lowered my expectations a bit. The most animated members of our group were close to tone deaf. The director didn't have a Master's Degree or PhD in choral music like all of my previous directors. In rehearsals, I found myself trying to offer small tips that would increase the "quality" of our musical interpretation..."why don't we try not to breath between the words volverán and a? What if the sopranos sing the first verse of ¿Qué niño es éste? by themselves to add a little variety to the song?"

The final goal of this choir was to perform three songs [¿Qué niño es éste? (What Child is This?), Himno a la alegría (Ode to Joy) and Villancico de las campanas (Carol of the Bells)] at a Christian choir festival on Friday night. As Friday approached, I became more and more unenthused about the pending performance. The three and a half hour rehearsal which only found us singing for ten minutes didn't help my mood...although the taquitos offered as a midday snack were quite delicious.

At five pm on Friday I semi-resentfully hauled myself to the combi that would drop me off at the Teatro de la Ciudad. After we sang, I returned to my seat a little bit embarrassed. We weren´t always in of tune and left something to be desired in the way of artistic expression. But as I sat down to watch the following groups perform, my attitude started to change. The last group to perform came from a catholic parish. They were dressed to the nines with each man in a suit, each woman in a matching turquoise shirt and multicolored scarf and children clad entirely in white, carrying candles mounted on sticks and encased in translucent blue paper. It was magical. The lights lowered and a girl who appeared to be about five sang out in a hauntingly beautiful solo that garnered applause almost immediately. Their performance continued with a multitude of instruments and choreographed dance numbers. I was completely memorized. After the final song died down, I wanted to revel in the silence, but had to quickly run onto stage for our final combined number: Noche de paz (Silent Night). After singing the final verse with the audience, just like I had done in so many Christmas concerts before, a feeling of peace and joy replaced my previous grumpiness.

Music has given me life and this experience helped me understand that perfection isn´t always the point. While I feel lucky to have participated in many high-caliber choirs, in these situations sometimes the pursuit of perfection supercedes the joy. And sometimes sharing your emotion and passion with the world is more important. And sometimes you have to let the music give you joy, as does the salsa music that accompanies my dancing many Friday evenings. And sometimes singing is a way to support an organization, like INESIN. Or sometimes it's a way to support a person. On Sunday, I was Skyping with my parents and my home congregation came caroling to our Smith St residence. Mom toted the computer to our front door, so I could see the beautiful faces of Shalom Mennonite Congregation as they seranaded my family. Music is powerful. And it is powerful in many forms.

So even though my festival of carols was different this year, it was meaningful and an important reality check. Am I now a reformed choral snob? Probably not. But I´m reminded to consider the bigger picture. This festival of carols was a moment to soak up the culture, support my organization and integrate myself more into this community. And for that I´m greateful.