In A Sea of Faces

Sunday was a most interesting day. As usual, I awakened and prepared myself for the walk to St. Bene’t’s for the 10 AM Eucharist. I was running just a few minutes behind my usual schedule having gotten distracted by an unusual email in my inbox. But no matter, I got there in plenty of time to collect myself and prepare for worship. It was nothing out of the ordinary and was everything I have come to expect from this lovely little parish in the heart of Cambridge – until communion. I had gone up to receive, as usual. I returned to my place, as usual. I knelt in meditation, listening to the anthem, again as usual. And then I looked up and to my left coming down the aisle, I saw someone I swore looked just like someone I knew from the US.

Jonathan Soyars at the Annual Meeting
of the Society of Scholar Priests in Toronto - 2016

I looked again. It was uncanny, but no, it couldn’t be. I went back to my meditation. The liturgy finished as usual and as we were dismissed. The postlude concluded. I turned to my right and at the very rear of the church there he was. He was chatting with someone, but as he looked up, he smiled and waved as he continued chatting. Clearly he recognized me, too. In the end, it was indeed someone I know. It was a colleague from the Society of Scholar Priests of which I have been a member since its beginning. It was Jonathan Soyars.

At the time I met him in SSP, he was just finishing his doctoral work at the University of Chicago. In the present encounter he has now been a tutor at Westminster College, part of the same theological federation as Ridley Hall, for four years! He introduced his two young sons, the elder of which certainly trades on his father's same sardonic wit. As he introduced me, Jonathan said, "He is a priest, too, like me" to which the young lad answered, "You're a priest?" We traded contact information and will no doubt spend some time trading stories over the next couple of weeks over coffee and maybe a “few pints” more than likely sans the comic commentary.

You’ve heard me speak of St. Botolph’s before. It’s the parish church at the south end of Corpus Christi College. Later in the day, I attended a concert of the Cambridge Chamber Academy featuring three young artists playing the music of Benjamin Dale, Ernest Bloch, and Johannes Brahms. The pieces by Dale and Bloch featured piano and viola, an unusual program since the viola usually gets to play “second fiddle” (pun intended) to the glitzier, usually dominant violin. The Brahms piece was equally unusual because it was composed as a trio for piano, violin and Waldhorn. The problem is that a Waldhorn has no valves and so can sound only sixteen natural notes. It is also much quieter than its valved cousin, the French horn, with which we are more familiar. People complained to Brahms, so he rescored the piece to have the viola take the place of the Waldhorn. This was the piece we heard.

The concert itself was a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon. But there was something more. In the front pew was a family. Grandma, mom, dad, two boys and a girl. The oldest of the three children could not have been more than eight. What struck me was the rapt attention that the two older children paid to the performers as they gifted us with their music. The youngest, a boy, got a little fussy, after a bit, but the elder ones were amazing. I have never seen children of that age so engaged by anything for a full ninety minutes. It was a sheer joy to behold. I only wish I could have photographed it to share with you.

So today was filled with little things. In a sea of faces, I found one I recognized from years ago. In another smaller sea, I found little faces filled with awe that inspired me. These are the little joys that make the days worthwhile. These are the blessings God gives to us each and every day, if only we take the time to notice.