Alleluia sans trumpets

 Several years ago, during the Easter season, the daughter of a friend received communion for the first time. Profoundly handicapped, she cannot see, walk or speak, but she adores music, and I love watching her face when I cantor the psalm. But when the alleluia burst forth, it so startled her that she lost her usual grin. I felt awful, though her father assured me afterwards that it was just that she couldn't see it coming. Literally!

Eric Whitacre's still and gentle Alleluia wouldn't startle anyone I suspect. I find in the frenzy of the end of the semester, following upon the intensity of the early part of this liturgical season, I don't always want my allelluias with trumpet blasts. The depth and stillness of this version sings to me of the enduring and healing grace of the resurrection in ways that the trumpets do not.  It's a balm...