From My Cambridge Diary

Four years ago, my wife, daughter, and I had the joy of spending a year in Cambridge, England, while I was on sabbatical leave at Clare Hall, Cambridge. My sponsors for my work were Sir David Willcocks (King's) and Tim Brown (Clare). My associations in Cambridge were a literal "who's who" of English choral conductors. My daughter, Emma, attended King's College School, the school established by King's College to train boy choristers that form part of the famous choir of King's College.

Every morning after I walked Emma to school, I listened to the boys as they rehearsed at 7:00 a.m. for Evensong later that day. After I met my daughter on the sports "pitch" in the afternoon after school, we would then walk to Evensong at King's College Chapel where we would hear her classmates sing the service. On a couple of occasions during the year, Emma sang with the boys when they combined to do programs at the school. She sang Messiah with them (as a 12 year old), as well as other programs that took place at the school.

I had nothing but hope throughout the Fall that we would actually be able to get into the world-renowned Christmas Eve A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at King's College, that for many of us is the beginning of our own annual experience of Christmas. The King's College community and alumni have the first option for admission, and people travel from around the world, queuing up the night before and sleeping on the sidewalk--just to take their chances on being able to get into the Chapel for this singular moment. For visiting scholars such as my family, the only option is to write for the remote chance of receiving one of the limited number of tickets that will be given out to the world community.

I wrote for those tickets early in the Fall when the notice was given that the time was right. I dropped every name I could drop in my letter of request, not knowing if that would mean a thing. To my great delight, when I received my tickets in early December, we received tickets “001, 002, and 003.” 

The following excerpt is from my Diary that I kept throughout my sabbatical year in Cambridge, marked “Christmas Eve 2004”:

We’re in! We were able to get into the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols in King’s College Chapel. What a wonderful conclusion to a set of hopes and preparations. The fact of the matter is, this special service means Christmas to many around the world, but as we have seen during our earliest days here, in many ways this is just another day at King’s. Our ears have become so accustomed to the sound of the King’s College Choir. I can’t help but wonder in these few minutes before the singing of “Once in Royal David’s City” how it will all feel. If I have ever experienced “rarefied air”, this is it.The program this year includes some special pieces—Paul Manz “E’en So Lord Jesus Quickly Come”, Peter Cornelius’ “Three Kings”, a new work by Judith Bingham,as well as descants by both Stephen and David. The extraordinary moment is when the choristers form a circle in the narthex area—none of them know who Stephen Cleobury will call upon to sing the solo line from “Once in Royal David’s City.” Stephen walks the circle, sort of like musical chairs, with his typical bowing of the head as he walks. He waits for the red light from the BBC to indicate that the broadcast to millions around the world is now live, and after a few seconds, he looks up and sets his eyes on “the” chorister that has the responsibility and honor of bringing that first line through the voice that will signal “it is Christmas” to all of us listening. No one but Stephen knows who he is going to choose, but every singer has to be prepared. As Stephen looked up and made his choice this year for the boy that would sing the line, as the first line was sung, Emma leaned over to me and said, “Daddy, that’s Edward”, an announcement that the BBC would not have known, but only Edward’s proud parents and a classmate friend in the school lunchroom world of the children at King’s would have recognized immediately. During the recessional, as the choir filed out of the choir stalls along with the officials and alumni of the College, came Sir David, my friend and sponsor, as well as emeritus professor and alumni himself of King’s. As he walked by my row, he looked up and over in my direction and winked at me. I then suspected how I was able to land tickets “001, 002, and 003.”

As inspirational as this event was for me and my family based not only on the beauty of the event, but my high level of anticipation for the event, there is a postscript that made another profound impact on me. As intense as the buildup is to this Christmas Eve world broadcast is for the singers at King’s College, they do not go home that day after the service. The choir is required to stay another day, when they sing for a Christmas Day service, again in the King’s College Chapel. While I had the same seat for this service, in contrast to the day before, there were no lines for these premium seats. In fact, we could have set in the stalls by the choir. The service is void of world visitors and tourists.There is no BBC present. The chapel is practically empty.
But,to no one’s astonishment, the singing of the choir is just as beautiful, just as powerful, just as well prepared, and just as important to a nearly empty room as the activity that took place less than 24 hours earlier that was heard by the world. As moved as I was to be there on Christmas Eve, I was even more moved to realize who the choir was really singing to and singing for. On Christmas Day, 2004, I heard clearly that excellence has the same meaning on every day of the year.

May it be the same for all of my preparations.