The Call of the Bull Moose | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: The Call of the Bull Moose | Previous Challenge Entry
By Donna Powers
05/08/18
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When I drove up to the Abundant Life Chapel, I was a bit nervous. I'd heard lots of stories from other students about their senior choir directing internships. While most had had great experiences, some had experienced some major disasters. I had no idea which I'd get.

I walked into the church's lobby and stopped in my tracks. The choir was warming up, and I was already thrilled. Their voices blended beautifully. I heard layers upon layers of perfect harmony. It was a vocal orchestra: clear, flute-like sopranos joined the mellow clarinet of the altos. The tenors were as clear and pure as trumpets, while the basses were as comfortably solid as ... well, basses. I walked in and watched as they sang.

It was a dream choir.

The only drawback seemed to be that despite their amazingly beautiful harmony, they looked as expressive as a bunch of robots. But after all, nothing’s perfect, and this choir would give me an amazing learning experience. Tentatively, I introduced myself to the church's music director. She smiled and welcomed me. Then, she invited me to finish the choir's warm up. As I stepped up to the front and began directing, I began to dream of the majestic anthems they would soon sing.

But then I met Bob.

He rushed in, 10 minutes late, and took a seat in the bass section. My joy was initially multiplied, since he not only had the chest and shoulders of a lumberjack, (the hallmarks of a great bass) the other choir members seemed really happy to see him.

I was in choir director heaven.

After the warm-up, I passed out this Sunday’s anthem. I reviewed it with the altos and sopranos; then turned my attention to the tenors and basses.

Within a few notes, I quickly concluded three things:

Bob was very loud.

Bob was very off-key.

The rest of the choir was either oblivious or (astonishingly) unaware.

I stopped the rehearsal. I asked my mentor to play the bass part by itself, and asked the basses to sing it.

They did. But Bob kept doing Bob.

I glanced at my mentor, who was playing the piano. She seemed to be wryly enjoying herself. I took a deep breath and tried again - but Bob’s cacophonous voice overshadowed the perfect harmony I’d previously heard.

Perplexed, I called for a break. I walked over to the music director. She had to know what I was going to ask her.

She did. “Oh, honey, that’s Bull moose Bob,” she told me. “I know how you feel. I was also challenged by him, at first. But watch his face, when they come back in.”

“His face?” I asked.

“Yes. You see, Bob knows what his voice sounds like and he doesn't care. He even gave himself that nickname. But he sings as loudly as he does because he takes the Bible literally where it says, ’make a joyful noise.’”

“Well, it certainly is a noise, I’ll grant you that.”

“Just watch what happens,” she urged me. “You’ll see.”

“All right,” I agreed.

So, when the choir sang again, I looked at Bob - and saw pure joy. It transcended the disastrous tones he bellowed. His broad face was suffused with a smile bright enough to illuminate a dark cavern, and his eyes were alive with incandescent elation. Bob was evidently feeling the Presence of God, and it was transforming his unmelodious tones into pure and rapturous worship. What’s more, his joy had somehow begun to transform the faces of the other choir members. Each of them seemed lit by the same Spirit; passed from Bob to each of them like a passed Olympic torch.

As I watched, I slowly caught the Spirit myself.

After the rehearsal, as I began look over the director's selected music choices for the next few weeks, I began thinking about the choir's upcoming anthems. I couldn't help but notice there was a bass solo in one of those upcoming anthems.

Should I give it to Bob?

Not in a million years.

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This story is dedicated to my father, the original "Bull moose Bob."

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Psalm 100: 1 (KJV) "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands."

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