The dozens of distant chestnut pews are adorned with figures, and I habitually count over the backs of their heads as I wait for the Mass to begin. The choir loft, nestled away in the far end of the parish, provides me with a comforting obscurity. As soon as I receive the thumbs up from the priest, I inhale deeply in preparation, and begin the processional hymn. 

Every weekend, I spend a minimum of four hours at my parish. On Saturday, I cantor the evening mass, and on Sunday, I play at the Hispanic mass. When there’s an emergency musician needed – which happens more often than not – I fill in. This is often the most gratifying part of a busy week filled with practicing music, schoolwork, and college applications. As a classical vocalist, the majority of my downtime is spent learning and practicing daunting repertoire in a variety of languages such as Italian, French, and German. I obsessively adjust my posture and breathing, and modify my vowels and expressions in hopes of achieving the ideal sound. Everything outside of me moves in slow motion, while my mind and body work at a rapid velocity. This is my form of expression, my duty, my passion – I love it. 

However, loving something does not mean it completely fulfills you. When I finish my piece and allow myself to relax, I am pleased, content even… but I am never satisfied. I’m still left searching for that internal silence. When your mind is constantly turning, and a tumultuous jumble of thoughts overpowers any sense of calm, you learn to grasp onto what little tranquility you can find. And when I take that preparing breath, when my ribcage expands and I allow that first note of a heavenly hymn to find its way up through my body and out of my rounded lips, I finally feel it. It’s more than just stillness; it’s peace. In that moment, my worries are silenced, my mind is empty, and my voice is no longer my own. I am no longer preoccupied with achieving perfection, because I am not singing for myself. I sing for Him, glorifying Him, surrendering myself to Him. When I sing, I am with Him, and I am fulfilled. 

Andrea Rodriguez-Gomez ’21

21arodriguezgomez@montroseschool.org