by Jeanne P. Lawler
I was a missionary "Far, Far Away" in Bangalore, India, for Christmas in 1993. On the first week of December, three days after I arrived, I was asked if I would help organize and direct a choir in the Bangalore Branch of our Church. I said, "Happy to." The members wanted to participate in a choir festival that was an annual event in Bangalore. I selected the above number and sixteen people attended the two enthusiastic rehearsals which were held on a rooftop of a member's home. None of them were familiar with part singing, so we sang in unison without musical accompaniment. Should there be piano, I would play it.
We were not aware what this "festival" entailed. The date of the performance arrived. As we alighted from our harrowing rickshaw ride to the location in downtown Bangalore, we stood gaping before a huge city building, draped with a large banner that read Festival of Choirs. Stunned, we walked up the broad flight of stairs and into the foyer which was milling with costumed participants. We scrambled to get a printed program. This was a BIG event! Listed were the names of several church, college and university choirs who were participating. We were listed as the "L.D.S. Choir (Mormon's Tabernacle)." We gasped! We didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.
We went aside and prayed, pleading for heavenly help. I turned to my companion and said, "You'll have to direct."
She said "I've never done that before in my life!"
I replied "Just smile, make a figure eight and look confident."
When the curtain opened for our number, my companion had our Indian "Mormon's Tabernacle Choir" arranged on risers ready to perform. All seven ladies on the front row wore beautiful saris and the nine men behind them wore suits and white shirts. The director was magnificent. She even took a bow! I took a deep breath as I sat down to accompany them on an old upright piano with missing ivories. The shock from the sound of the first chord nearly threw me off the choir, but when she raised her hand and started her figure eight, I could hardly play, and I don't know if I did.
It was as if The Choir, whose name we bore on the printed program, were singing. I knew then out prayers were heard and a choir of angels was singing with our little choir. As the last note sounded, there was silence; then, thunderous applause from the packed auditorium. The curtains closed and we wept and jumped for joy. Guess who won a prize? We did!
The fourth verse says "Hasten the time when, from ev'ry clime, Men shall unite in the strains sublime." It happened in India! My husband loved this hymn, and it was sung at his memorial service in 1986. Fred was not gifted musically while in mortality, but I like to believe that he was among those summoned to sing "Far, Far Away on Judea's Plains" with the L.D.S. Choir (Mormon's Tabernacle) in Bangalore, India.
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