Everyone enjoys Christmas music. In every church, the members look forward to hearing the evidence of the yearly special efforts of their friends and neighbors who are part of the choir. In no other season are the same songs presented year after year, and loved all over again by both the singers and the listeners. Frequently, the words and musical phrases of Handel's Messiah bring us the joy we have awaited. A tenor announces that "Every valley shall be exalted, the crooked straight, and the rough places plain." And the chorus joins to exclaim, "And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed." At other times the familiar carols invite us to celebrate, and in spite of all the efforts during the rest of the year to convince us that the church's music should strive for "of-the-moment" relevance, we resort to our rudimentary latin, singing, "Gloria, in excelsis Deo!"
In my career of 35 years directing choirs, there haven't been many years that my parents missed hearing whatever music I presented at Christmas. They didn't try to travel from Dothan, Alabama to Ridgewood, New Jersey and hear the holiday concerts of the New Jersey Choral Society. But I can remember them driving to churches or schools as many as 200 miles away to hear our Christmas music in all the other places in which I've directed.
Many of my years of Christmas concerts were spent in a church where my parents were members. During those years, I met a group of musicians who would become the unsung heroes of all the concerts I conduct. They are the instrumentalists who make up the orchestra. Now they drive around 600 miles for each concert we present together, traveling from Tallahassee, Florida to Birmingham, Alabama. For the last sixteen years we have performed together, and I can't imagine a concert without them.
The ingredient that transforms these musicians from typical "gig" players into the unsung heroes of our concerts is their heart. They are professional players, professors and graduate students at Florida State University, and they possess the skill level of the finest players on each of their given instruments. But in addition to their high level of skill, they have amazing hearts. They play as if they love to play. They honor the efforts of the volunteers in the church choir by contributing their best professional playing, and they have become honored musical leaders of worship, rather than anonymous hired players.
Two weeks ago we gave our annual Christmas concert. After rehearsal I had dinner with Betsy, a brilliant violinist who spent her college days rehearsing and playing chamber music with Yo-Yo Ma, and Melanie, a double bass player who plays in the Orchestra of Saint Lukes in New York. Missing from our dinner due to illness was Melissa, who brilliantly manages the contracting of all the players, and plays viola herself. As we laughed and ate and visited, I related how my parents would miss our concert, due to my father's prolonged battle with lung cancer. These lovely people offered to contribute their hearts and musical skills to visit my parents' home in Dothan, and surprise my father with a Christmas concert of his own.
So yesterday they drove early in the morning, after a rehearsal the night before, to the First United Methodist Church of Dothan, and rehearsed for that church's Christmas program. They returned to Tallahassee and played for a two-hour concert of the Tallahassee Symphony Orchestra. Then today they drove even earlier, and played for the two services of the church in Dothan. And after that exhausting schedule, Betsy, Melissa and Melanie came with me to my parents' home, sneaked in with their instruments, and surprised my father with his own concert.
As they began to play, my mother brought him into the living room, where we all listened, cried, and sang along. These brilliant, accomplished players, who had given their all in several concerts and rehearsals this weekend, still brought unfathomable joy to someone who couldn't attend.
The musicians of Christmas never really know whose lives they touch, or to what degree. And in the busy schedule of rehearsals and performances, they can easily forget that their listeners have waited through an uncertain year, hoping to hear those familiar strains again. Today, in a small town in Alabama, world-class musicians made a valley of shadows feel exalted, a crooked, suffering body feel straight, and a rough place seem plain for a little while, and the glory of the Lord was revealed. 
