That Which Is Flesh

Page 17

16 She never told anyone of this anger. It was a guarded, personal secret. She did not, however, hate the church itself. Just God. The church was a human thing, which she divorced from God. On the death of her parents, the nuns at school had been very kind. In fact, everyone at church had been kind. So she continued to attend mass-although of course she denied the host. She liked the beauty of the church build­ing, the coming together of people. And the singing. In particular, she liked the singing. She had a good voice, a crystal fine soprano- chorus was her favorite class in school-and when it merged with the other voices, she felt herself. going beyond herself, leaving, her worldly self behind. It was at the Easter service, during the singing of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" that her whole self-her very soul-seemed to flow into her voice. Never had she sung with such abandonment, such per­fection. She was filled with a sense of the infinite, an all embracing harmony. With a sense of the eternal. And as the hymn came to a close, she felt a strange purity. Suddenly she found herself praying for God's forgiveness. In joyful surrender, tears running down her cheeks, she sought his presence. And he was there. For that moment.