I had the most incredible experience this past Wednesday. Before explaining it fully, I’ll have to give you some of the background to the situation.

When I was in high school, during my junior year, our chorus director assembled eight or so of us to compete in a competition. We did so well that he asked if we would like to form an a cappella singing ensemble and perform and compete in other places as well. We were excited and were soon practicing twice a week. It wasn’t long before the newfound Cat-a-tonics even had a small throng of female fans. In the spring of that year, we recorded our first CD, “Happy Together,” titled after one of our favorite songs to sing, originally performed by The Turtles.

Without telling us, our director, Fr. Guiao, submitted our CD to the National Championship of High School A Cappella (a now defunct organization). We were accepted into the first round of competition. Over the next few months, we performed in several locations, traveling further each time. In March, we found ourselves in Washington, D.C. with four other groups, competing for the national title. Even though we were beat by a quartet of girls from New York (who we all admitted were excellent), we were proud of what we had accomplished—and 2nd in the nation of over 2200 groups is nothing to scoff at. Our group was the pride of a well-renowned chorus, with the younger members working to become good enough to join the smaller ensemble. And we had traveled far as a group and built many great memories. Unfortunately, most of us graduated that year and while the group continued without us, those of us that had left were never really able to sing with the others again.

At the same time, a few of the Jesuits at St. Ignatius were finishing their training. As you may or may not know, it takes quite some time to become a full Jesuit. Fr. Guiao and Fr. Kesicki, the Chorus director and President respectively, were both nearing the end of their training. After the close of the 2005-2006 school year, Fr. Guiao traveled to the Philippines and Fr. Kesicki began summer work. A few months back, having both completed their training, they were prepared for their assignments, which would, in theory, be more permanent than those during their training. To the surprise of the Ignatius community, our dear President Fr. Kesicki was promoted to the head of the Detroit Province. Though we all knew he was quite capable of that role and more, we had hoped he would stay at Ignatius with us for longer. It was not, however, the will of the Jesuits. Also, to our great dismay, Fr. Kesicki decided to take Fr. Guiao with him as a sort of Vocations Director for the province—functionally visiting all the Jesuit seminaries and checking up on the spiritual and mental progress of all the novices. If you were familiar with these two great men, you could imagine the disappointment in losing two truly incredible individuals who were Christ to the young men of Ignatius and their families.

To celebrate Fr. Kesicki’s presidency and to bid him farewell, the school decided to hold a farewell mass and reception for him. Six days before the mass, Fr. Guiao was asked to direct the music. At first at a loss for how to proceed, Fr. Guiao remembered the voices of the former Cat-a-tonics. He sent out a quick message to all the current and former members of the Cat-a-tonics, asking if we would be willing and able to come to one rehearsal and sing at the mass. Only three days later, 30 some college students gathered in their high school’s chapel. It was an amazing response and a credit to Fr. Guiao’s talent as a director that so many of us would take time out of our evenings to come sing with him.

When I was telling my mother about our rehearsal, her response was that it was such an amazing thing that we were actually able to return to the past. So few people can ever relive something that was truly great. It remains but a memory in their minds. Despite reunions and memorials, one can never truly return to that moment. But we did. As we bowed our heads for the “Angelus Domini,” and lifted them to sing the first beautiful chords of Franz Biebl’s “Ave Maria,” we knew we had come back. With the same voices that learned those notes three years ago, matured by three years of intensive high school chorus work and college vocal work, we made the same music we had once made together. With our music hanging forgotten at our sides, we sang the Hail Mary in the language of the Holy Roman Church with everything we had. It was as if we had never left. There was more facial hair, some deeper voices (and some higher ones), more lung capacity, but what was the same was the truly present “unforgotten faces and the faith which she [St. Ignatius High School] impart[ed]” (Here I quote but a few lines of the St. Ignatius Alma Mater, which we all still knew by heart.) Without having seen the music in months or years, we were able to return to it, return to our old chorus director, return to our old chorus-mates, and sing the most beautiful hymns without even having rehearsed. We could have had an audience for that first run, it was that beautiful. To be able to sing it that well, without having seen it in so long, was indescribable.

This past Wednesday, as we sang at the Mass, I realized something. This was truly Heaven on Earth. Of course, the Holy Mass is the Bridal Feast of the Lamb, Heaven on Earth, and Scott Hahn could tell you all about that in “The Lamb’s Supper.” But this one particular instance of the Eternal Sacrifice of the Mass made it stand out for me so much more. Here, present, was the “family which [God] had gathered before [Himself]” (the Eucharistic prayer, pre-Consecration). We were giving glory to God and praising Him with our whole beings in gorgeous song. Moreover, there were people present that I hadn’t seen in four years or more. I realized as we sang, “O God Beyond All Praising” that this truly was what Heaven would be like. Joyous reunions between friends we hadn’t seen in years and together, with those friends, praising God. I began to remember other people that had faded out of my life that I would probably never see again on this earth, yet would re-unite with in Heaven as if we had never parted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mother crying the whole Mass. I was nervous that I would too, but managed to keep it together until the closing hymn. When our chapel was consecrated to Mary of the Assumption in 1997, Fr. Guiao wrote a beautiful hymn called “Sing We Now to You, O Mary.” It is a favorite of almost every chorus member and every member of the Ignatius community. (By the way, I just realized that other people may not understand what I mean when I say the Ignatius community. When thinking about Ignatius, consider it as if it were a college. Parents remain involved after their children graduate. There is an Alumni Director who actually has people working under him because alumni are that concerned about the school. So, it truly is a multi-generational community. Interestingly, most Ignatius grads actually value their Ignatius degree higher than their college one. Because of my love for St. Vincent, I think I may break that tradition, but Ignatius will nevertheless hold a stronger place in my heart than most high schools hold in the hearts of their graduates. Anyhow, I’ll return to my story, hoping you have a better idea of what Ignatius is to those of us who graduated from her.) Between the third and final verses of the song, we always sing the Alma Mater. I was fine though until the fourth and final verse began. As I heard the timpani, the trumpet, and the voices raise together, singing “You who saw the Risen Saviour on that joyful Easter Morn and on Pentecost did savour tongues of fire, the Spirit Born.” Tears welled up in my eyes, and though I didn’t let them fall, I could no longer sing. My voice cracked and I mouthed the final words of the song with the rest of the chorus, “Holy Mary, Virgin Mother, place us with your Son, that we, Sons of this famed Alma Mater, ever Men for Others be.”

Afterwards, I found that I wasn’t the only one unable to sing the closing hymn. A good number of the guys I had graduated with were affected the same way I was. It was truly moving. The congregation apparently thought so as well. They gave us the longest standing ovation I have ever received in any performance I’ve been in, but I knew the applause wasn’t truly for us. It was for the glory of God that we happy few had been able to witness to for that short hour. And if that was but a taste of Heaven, I can’t wait for the real thing.

Gabe can't wait for heaven, but can be reached in the mean time at svcblogger@gmail.com.