Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.’
Then I said, ‘Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.’
But the Lord said to me, ‘Do not say, “I am only a boy”; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.’
Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me, ‘Now I have put my words in your mouth.
-Jeremiah 1:4-9
It was an unremarkable conversation between two children and an old man on a summer Saturday in 1955. It lasted less than a minute yet it would bring a lifetime of beauty and purpose to a child’s voice that had been divinely consecrated, even before birth.
The boy, age 12 and his nine-year-old sister we’re performing an imaginary variety show in the empty, second floor meeting hall of the Italian American Dramatic Club in New London, Connecticut. Their father was downstairs, listening to the Red Sox game with the men in a mist of Lucky Strike Smoke. The boy was hammering out random notes on an upright piano. His sister, arms outstretched, was singing a grand opera, aria, celebrating celestial wonders, “The stars…the Stars…THE STAARRRS!” They did not hear old Joseph Celentano enter the meeting hall from downstairs.
He cleared his voice. Immediately the children were silent. “Child, what is your name?” he asked, directing himself at the girl. “I’m Vicki Gustini.” she answered, adding, “We are so sorry, sir. We’ll be quiet.” “I’m Raymond, her brother.” the boy volunteered. “You are Louie Gustini’s children… I must have a word with him.” Thinking herself in trouble, little Vicki said “Sorry, sir. We’ll stop singing.”
The old man said, “I’m going to tell your father to get you voice lessons. And if he doesn’t do it; I will get you voice lessons. And don’t stop singing!”
Four years later, Vicki’s voice teacher entered her in the Eastern Connecticut Symphony Orchestra’s Young Artists competition. Her teacher thought it would be good exposure for performance. That year, at age 13, Vicki placed First in the competition and never looked back.
Vicki went on to perform as first soprano in the University of Connecticut Madrigal chorus. She would perform with the New Haven Chorale, the New Haven Opera Chorus, The New Orleans Opera Chorus, and was invited to perform a solo recital with Moses Hogan. Vicki has been a member of the Trinity Episcopal Church Choir for thirty years.
This month Vicki retired from choral performance, not because her voice had become brittle, but because progressing Alzheimer’s Disease had consumed all her nouns and made it difficult for her to manage cognitive constructs. It would be simplistic to say, “Oh, how sad…” and assume all that beauty and art was silently draining into unseen cracks in dark places. As St Paul would say, “May it never be!”
I am convinced, the words of God that touch a musician’s lips, travel on the wings of the humankind’s greatest music to rest forever in a sacred place created by God in the artists mind. As with so much on our journey with the Lord, faith gives us belief in beauty we cannot see.
Last night, I placed Vicki’s Bose earphones over her ears and played Handel’s “I Know My Redeemer Liveth.” The only noun Vicki still has is French fry, but she cannot coherently order a Cheeseburger. Last night, she placed her hands over the earphones and began pairing her gorgeous voice, word-for-word, in perfect pitch with the music she was hearing. Seventy Easters poured out into our living room. I could not hold back the tears.
Tomorrow at the 10:30 service at Trinity, Vicki will stand before her fellow Christians to receive their gratitude for her gifts. She will insist she is not worthy. It is just how she is. Please grasp this: Vicki will humbly stand on behalf of nine-year old Vicki Gustini whose lips and heart were touched by God. As importantly, she will stand representing memory diseased people everywhere who declare, “Hold me; for indeed, our Redeemer Liveth!”
Musical Reflection - Atlanta Master Chorale | When Memory Fades, Jane Southwick Cool (Nelson)
You have given all to me. To you Lord, I return it. Everything is yours; do with it what you will. Give me only your Love and Your Grace. That is enough for me. AMEN.
- Jesuit prayer
Login To Leave Comment