Verdi's Requiem

I just got home from the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Do you mind if I blabber? Because in my blown-away state, all I can do is blabber.

Tonight's performance: Verdi's Requiem, and it was hands down, without a doubt, and every other cliche in the recipe box you can find to mean "completely," "totally," and "utterly" the best, most incredible performance I've ever been to in my life.

I went because it's one of my favorite pieces. In fact, I want this played at my funeral. With that in mind, I'll go ahead and reserve a full orchestra, choir, and the soloists required now.

It was sold out tonight. I had to buy stand-by tickets. Two minutes before the concert, the ushers let us in to salvage the empty seats of season ticket holders who didn't show up (I pity the fools). I've never seen the Meyerson sold out. That alone lent the performance energy.

And talk about energy. One moment powerful and stricken; the next lyrical and peaceful. The rumblings of the cellos and basses. The surprise of the bass drum. The soaring of the violins and flutes. It's left me talking fragments. I suspect the couple beside me thought me crazy for crying half the performance. I think they're insane for remaining unmoved. Are they heartless? Frankly, I don't understand how you can hear this piece and not fall flat on your face in front of our Creator and Redeemer. If you're having trouble thinking of how to tell your friend about your faith, I suggest having them listen to Verdi's Requiem. You think I'm speaking hyperbolically, but I assure you I'm dead serious (sorry--couldn't resist the pun). Of course, handing him a copy of the lyrics, preferably translated unless they're fluent in Latin, will help them interpret the overwhelmingness of the whole thing.

This piece will get the blood rushing through your arteries so furiously, it'll bulldoze whatever's clogging them. Then the gentleness will blanket you with piece. After the final notes, the hall rang with silence. Have you ever heard silence ring? I have, and this was it. No one dared move. No one could. Then, all of the sudden, the audience went insane.

The director (Zaap van Zweeden--new to the Dallas Symphony this year, and let me tell you folks, I don't care if I can't say his name; he's a keeper) and the soloists had to take four bows.

Four!

I've never seen that. The audience not only applauded, but they whistled and hooted and hollered. You'd think you were at a U2 concert. I thought the soprano was going to jump into the mash pit. My arms and hands are sore from clapping--a better bicep and tricep work-out than Pilates. I cried and laughed and clapped until the skin on m palms peeled off. Were it not for the people crammed next to me, I'm certain I would've jumped.

Thank you, Lord. I praise you.