Singing mice, a sad day

Did you ever see the movie "Babe" with the talking pig? I love that movie. Not only because it has singing mice that are somewhat akin to a greek chorus, but also because it features the Saint-Saens Organ Symphony and talking sheep. For those of you who have not seen this movie, heathens, get thee to a Blockbuster.

The mice, in narrating each tableau, say all sorts of fun things like, "Pork is a nice sweet meat," and "Pigs are definitely stupid," but the one that won't get out of my head is, "A sad day."

Today is a very sad day. Four of my friends and colleagues from IU were killed in an airplane crash early this morning. Friends that I just saw a month and a half ago when I visited Bloomington. People to whom I said, "We should get together the next time I'm here and go eat at Mother Bear's," or "I miss standing next to you in choir" or "When are you writing your next opera?" Young, vibrant musicians with most of their lives in front of them, rather than behind.
All day, my phone has been ringing. Singers reaching out to each other, relaying the news that not even the AP has been able to confirm. Telling stories, consoling and being consoled. I suppose that death is ever present. On any given day, we are one wrong turn or one mis-step away from it, but we never look for that one day. Not when you're twenty-four and you think the worst thing that could happen is not getting into grad school.

Call your mothers and fathers and siblings and friends and tell them you love them. Forgive those people that you've been holding a grudge against, and forgive yourself for all those little things that don't really matter. Every Sunday, the priest gives this great blessing that I had never heard until this year:

"Life is short and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel the way with us. So be swift to love and make haste to be kind. And may the Divine Mystery who is beyond our ability to know but who made us, and who loves us, and who travels with us, bless us and keep us in peace."

In memoriam: William Sloane Coffin, April 12, 2006

It must have been last year - there was an interview with William Sloane Coffin in the New Yorker. I think I read it four times over and then called my mom and read it to her. And then I ordered his book 'Credo' off of Amazon, only available in hardback at the time, and I'm pretty sure I posted some of it on various web profiles. A former pastor at the Riverside Church in New York, Coffin was most known for his work as the Yale Chaplain who not only dissented against the Vietnam War, but took part in large-scale demonstrations against it and was jailed more than once as a result. Despite a stroke and other health issues, he continued to speak out against war and careless governing - this quote is taken from a sermon given at Riverside Church on World Communion Day:

"Patriotism at the expense of another nation is as wicked as racism at the expense of another race," he declared, adding: "Let us resolve to be patriots always, nationalists never. Let us love our country, but pledge allegiance to the earth and to the flora and fauna and human life that it supports — one planet indivisible, with clean air, soil and water; with liberty, justice and peace for all."

Other writings by Coffin include: "The heart is a little to the left, essays on public morality"
"A passion for the possible," "Letters to a young doubter"