At this point we are undecided if our month of radio broadcasting ended with a bang or a whimper. A certain anticipation floated on the small cloud of incense as we waited to begin the last Vespers of our assignment from Radio Maria. The sister who arms Radio Maria’s impressive audio mixer console disappeared into our miniature sacristy and we listened for the tingle of a bell to alert us that we were on air. We waited. We waited two minutes more, then sister emerged, her face drawn with contained dismay as she walked down the nave and out the choir door as quickly as monastic decorum permitted. This had happened before, so each took the opportunity to say a small prayer that she would find the cause: would it be that one of the phones in the house was not sitting securely in its resting place? Or would it again be that the plug was just a little loose?
Sister returned, looking relieved and tried not to hurry to the sacristy, only to emerge again. Still no connection, and it was less than one minute until the listeners would tune in for Vespers. Once more she left to check the last possibility and then returned. Still unable to make the connection, the Poor Clares personal hotline to Radio Maria was used. More than 90 percent of Radio Maria’s personal are volunteers, vrijwilligers as the Dutch say, and being so, they have more than their share of mishaps. What type of magic the good lady on the other end of the line worked, we will never know, but the bell did tinkle, our radio sister carefully tip-toed to her place and we began the beautiful Gregorian Admirable Nomen Jesus. So neither a bang nor a whimper, but the Divine praises sung by millions down the centuries closed this most unusual month.
Hopefully before this month ends –six hours from now– we will have some photos of a choir beseiged by microphones. The photo album is forging forward.
