April 2, 2021
Good Friday. I remember standing in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, down low in the ground, with the rock split and the place shown where the blood of God poured onto the skull of Adam, redeeming all forever. I hunkered back in the shadows so I could weep my fill. I do so now.
Ann calls off rehearsal, being drained by a horrible faculty senate meeting. That is far from my experience now. Good riddance and good riddance.
Listened to the Good Friday service we recorded previously. We were seven men of the choir and we sounded– divine. I’d sung this service twenty years without ever hearing it. Not one voice can be picked out of the fabric of the chants. The motet rests on me as a church upon a slab of stone. I was happier with an action of mine than I have been in a long time.
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