From Steve Fisher,
Associate Director
Keystone State Boychoir
Dear KSB Family,
How do I articulate yesterday’s experience that honors
and respects the memory of the Sandy Hook children, their parents, and those
adults who gave their lives trying to save these young people? I do not wish in
anyway to tout, if you will, what was truly a solemn opportunity for the boys
to come into the Newtown community and offer, humbly, their voices at the
“Concert of Solace and Hope” held at the Trinity United Methodist Church in
Newtown.
It is, though, I think, appropriate to share a little bit
about the experience - if for no other reason but to testify to the profound
power of children making music and their ability to bring a little bit of
healing to parents and families and a community who have endured, continue to
endure, and will probably always endure profound pain. But as life goes, they must go on - step by
step, day by day. Sometimes, I am quite
sure, it must be hour by hour and even minute to minute.
What can we who are outside the Newtown community offer,
really, to these people in hopes of helping them continue taking those
steps? They have witnessed and received
the outpouring of condolences from every corner of our country and beyond, from
the president of the United States to anonymous children who live on the other
side of the world, some of whom are the very age of those who perished.
I imagine that, for the families of Newtown who lost
children, words - no matter how sincere, and deeply felt – can often ring
hollow. After all, words, and hugs and tears cannot - will not - bring their
children back. As the saying goes, words fail.
But sometimes, when words fail, music succeeds. Succeeds
in reaching hearts by expressing what is in hearts but what cannot be
communicated in any other way. That is what our boys offered. And not just any
kind of music. But singing made by children, in honor and remembrance of
children senselessly lost.
I am not one to be at a loss for words. But I
deliberately chose, before the concert, to speak very little. Not that I didn’t
have thoughts to share. But because no matter how well stated or beautifully
crafted, I suspected that there was nothing I would say that these parents, who
have suffered the most profound loss imaginable, and this community, who has
suffered the greatest collective lost imaginable haven’t heard before.
And so I just decided to let the boys singing “speak.”
And speak it did. We began with “Draw
the Circle.” And never did these words
mean more:
“Draw the circle wide, no one stands alone, we’ll stand
side by side”
The trebles then sang Evening Prayer:
“When at night I go to sleep, fourteen angels watch do
keep.”
The Grads followed with “Prayer of the Children,” which
serves as the underscore to the video. (link below) We knew the piece was
appropriate for remembering. But we worried it the text might be too intense,
too poignant. The audience, however, received it not with an overwhelming
display of emotion, but as the words of the song go:
“with no more tears to cry.”
I’m sure there was not a dry eye in the house. But it was a quiet sadness. Doesn’t it make
sense that so many tears have been shed by this community, that some days there
are no tears left? Just a void. I do believe that 55 boys from the Keystone
State Boychoir filled a little bit of that void last night.
We then went on to sing “Weeping.” This was the moment where I chose to explain.
An anti-apartheid song. I asked the audience to join us in the motions of
determined fists closed, as is the tradition in South Africa whenever there is
a wrong that must be righted. When we got to that part of the song, something
quite extraordinary happened. Not only did they audience join us in the
motions, but one by one, the audience began to stand. It was powerful because,
I suspect, standing and singing and moving in the middle of a song, in church,
is not part of the culture of this Connecticut community. But given the tragedy
of December 14th, they were moved – quite literally – to make a stand.
“Sing Out, Sing Out, Sing Out, Sing Out!”
As a conductor, you get pretty good and reading your
choir in the midst of performance. I could sense from the boys in the middle of
“Weeping,” collectively, what I myself
was feeling – being on the brink of tears.
But I also felt, collectively, that we all knew we had to be strong and
lead this audience in song. That was our job. To help them take a few more
steps.
We then sang “Man in the Mirror,” which was again,
perfect for the occasion, and then finished the program around the room, just
as we began, with “I Need You to Survive.”
I explained its origins, written in the days after another one of
America’s unfathomable tragedies – September 11th. Just as we did then, Americans have
shouldered our fellow Americans’ tragedies.
As usual I asked the audience to join in singing the
second part of the song with us. And what I thought would happened did. Immediately, the entire audience, joined in.
I saw children and parents, young and
old, singing. I saw some smiling and some not smiling, some with eyes wide
open, and some with eyes closed. And I saw our boys, having drawn the circle
wide leading them. Step by step.
I pray for you, you pray for me
I love you, I need you to survive
I won’t harm you with words from my mouth I love you I
need you to survive
In the second half of the concert, KSB joined the
Connecticut Choral Society in singing John Rutter’s Mass of the Children. Mark
your calendar for our performance of this work at Church of the Holy Trinity on
December 15th, the one year anniversary of the Newtown Tragedy.
As the audience left the church, we serenaded them with
South African pieces, as is often our custom. It might seem too celebratory,
given the place and time. But this was to be a concert of solace and hope. It certainly ended hopeful. It seemed, in
that moment, like the entire town of Newtown had joined us, singing and
clapping. I can’t remember the word Ubuntu being so palpably in the air as it
was last night. All of us gathered below that American flag we watched waving
over this little town so many times on the news, witnessing those terribly dark
days.
I have no illusion that our boys singing dispelled all
the darkness this senseless act has caused to settle over that quaint American
town. I don’t believe anything or anyone ever will. But I do believe that our boys pierced that
darkness for a moment in time with a stream of light. Those that heard that light I do believe will
remember it for a very long time to come.
Can you hear the prayer of the children
on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room?
Empty eyes with no more tears to cry
turning heavenward toward the light.
Crying," Jesus, help me
to see the morning light of one more day, but if I should
die before I wake, I pray my soul to take."
Can you feel the hearts of the children
aching for home, for something of their very own.
Reaching hands with nothing to hold onto but hope for a
better day, a better day.
Crying," Jesus, help me
to feel the love again in my own land,
but if unknown roads lead away from home, give me loving
arms, away from harm."
(oooooo la la la la etc etc.)
Can you hear the voice of the children
softly pleading for silence in their shattered world?
Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate, blood of the
innocent on their hands.
Crying," Jesus, help me
to feel the sun again upon my face?
For when darkness clears, I know you're near, bringing
peace again."
Dali čujete sve dječje molitve? (Serbo-croation)
Best,
Steve
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