‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far …. and grace will lead me home. 

This remarkable photograph was taken several years ago by my sister Randi. (I’m sharing it here with her permission.)    The solitary figure in the frame is, of course,  Weston Noble.   And he is seen walking up to the front door of Waterloo Ridge Lutheran Church, beneath a metal archway emblazoned with the words KOM TIL GUDS HUS,  which is Norwegian for ‘Welcome to God’s House.’

Since Weston’s death last December 21st,  it’s impossible to look at this photograph and not think of Weston being welcomed into the awaiting arms of his Heavenly Father and taking his place in the heavenly choir.   But I think this photograph represents something even richer than that.   That archway does not lead to this church’s cemetery, where the dead are buried,  but rather to the sanctuary, where people gather to worship and have fellowship with one another.   That word of welcome is as much for the living as it is for the dead-  and it’s not just that we are welcome to step inside a lovely church sanctuary to encounter God’s presence and love.  It is that God welcomes us to be part of the family of faith and to experience all of the richness and fullness that life can offer, wherever life takes us.   It is a reminder that God looks upon all of us with grace,  cherishing us as a father cherishes his children, and blessing us in both the brightest and the darkest of days.   And just as we have been treated with grace,  so we are called to treat those around us with grace as well.   And for as much as Weston taught all of us about the beauty of music,  he probably taught us even more about what it means to live a life of grace.

Last Saturday morning, exactly one week ago,  I was in Decorah, Iowa – walking into Luther College’s Center for Faith and Life, which is where most of Luther’s major concerts and worship services take place.  As I walked into that room,  I was flooded with all kinds of memories of what I had experienced there as an undergraduate from the beginning of my freshman year back in the fall of 1978.   Some of the most magnificent mountaintop moments of my life as a singer occurred in that space-  and it had been a privilege to return again and again in the years since graduation- occasionally as a singer but much more often as a grateful audience member.

But on this particular day,  I would be stepping out of the audience/congregation and taking my place at the Steinway grand piano to sing “Amazing Grace” for that afternoon’s memorial service honoring Weston Noble.   I was doing so at Weston’s personal request,  but knowing that did not for a moment allay my sense of inadequacy.   I did not feel the least bit deserving of such an extraordinary honor,  and I came to the CFL that morning in the hopes of being able to sit at that beautiful piano for a few moments and sing at least a few bars of John Newton’s beloved hymn.  Maybe doing so would ease my fears and bolster my confidence.  But as I walked on to that stage,  I found my fears compounding rather than receding.   I think part of it was that by standing on that stage,  I found myself even more acutely aware of all of the other fine singers who had sung on that stage and were every bit as deserving of such an honor as I was.  

What calmed and centered me were the sounds I heard next:  the splendid CFL pipe organ,  gloriously played by Gregory Peterson,  and the warm, luxuriant voice of Karen Brunssen singing the first verse of the great hymn “Behold a Host.”   (She was entrusted with singing the first verse in its original Norwegian: Den store vide flok,  ahead of the congregation singing it in English. They were taking a few minutes to rehearse.)  She has one of those voices like that of Mother Earth, surrounding you and uplifting you in its magnificence,  effortlessly filled every corner of the hall.   It was incredible.    And as I heard that voice ring out,  I was reminded of the very first time I heard her sing in person.  It was my freshman year and she came back to Luther to sing a guest recital.   Until that day,  I had only heard her on a Luther Messiah recording singing the great soprano aria “I know that my redeemer lives” – but she returned to her alma mater as a rich-voiced, world class mezzo soprano and nearly blew down the walls of the CFL recital hall with her sound.   I think the tremendous thrill of that moment is still with me in some way,  39 years later.

Saturday morning, as I once again luxuriated in that voice,   I remembered when I first experienced the grace of the woman behind the voice.   It was the spring of 1984,  my last semester of graduate school, and I had high hopes of settling in the Chicago area and trying to build at least the beginning of some kind of professional singing career.  My voice teacher at Luther, David Greedy,  had suggested that I write a letter to Karen (who was a former voice student of his)  and ask her to tell me about some of the groups and organizations in Chicago that might offer singing opportunities to me.   I was hesitant,  and it took me weeks to finally scrape up the courage to sit down and write her a letter.  (This was someone I had never met- but I think I finally wrote her so I wouldn’t face Mr. Greedy’s displeasure or disappointment if I didn’t.)  Imagine my delight when a SIX page handwritten letter arrived in the mail about two weeks later – a wonderful letter in which she thoroughly described the work of Chicago’s various opera companies,  symphony choruses,  and small vocal ensembles and finished with a warm-hearted word of encouragement.  It was exactly what I needed to feel a bit less intimidated at the thought of relocating to such an immense city (which, by the way,  I did a year and a half later- and happily so.)   But this was nothing she had to do, and she knew that I would have nothing to offer her in exchange.  It was an act of simple kindness.  ‘Twas grace.

I’m sure there are all kinds of reasons why Karen grew up to be such a kind and gracious person,  but one of those reasons has to be Weston Noble.  Generations of musicians at Luther (and at plenty of places beyond)  learned by his example just how joyous and meaningful life can be when we make a point of lifting up those around us.   I was reminded of that each and every time I got to gather with the men and women of the Weston Noble Alumni Choir.   Here were some of the most vibrant and generous people I’ve been blessed to know.   Weston’s dear friend Kathy Gentes would often say how moved she was when she watched how patient and kind we were with Weston in those moments in rehearsal that revealed the encroachment of age and the waning of his energy and focus.    But just as he had lifted us up on so many occasions,  it was only right for us in those moments when he felt most vulnerable to lift him up in return – and we did so without even thinking about it.   And in giving that kindness and consideration,  we were blessed in return.   ‘Twas grace.

Gathering with those alumni for Saturday morning’s rehearsal was an extraordinary joy.   There were 175 of us in the beautiful sanctuary of First Lutheran Church – where Weston had been a member for many years,  the same sanctuary where a lovely prayer service was held not long after his death.  There we were, gathered from 28 different states plus Guam-  and we were but the tiniest fraction of his legacy.  In a very real sense,  we were singing not just on our own behalf but on behalf of the thousands of people who would have wanted to be there but could not be.  And though the hour was early for those of us who had come a distance – and that was many of us – we were nothing but grateful for one more opportunity to come together and revel in the gift of song and the opportunity to share that gift together.  ‘Twas grace.

And standing before us was Andrew Last, who becomes the newest conductor of Nordic Choir this coming fall.  Over the last few years,  Andrew played an increasingly significant role in our alumni choir events, but always in a way that paid respectful deference to Weston, with exquisite sensitivity to his beloved mentor.  It is not easy to stand on that podium with an equal measure of confidence and humility, but he has managed to do that again and again- and this past Saturday he did so again.  ‘Twas grace.  And as I watched him stand before us,  I was reminded of the last time I saw Weston in person some months ago at Decorah’s Aase Haugen Home.  Andrew was there when I arrived at Weston’s room,  and I hovered in the hallway so as not to interrupt their visit.   I couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other,  but just seeing the tenderness between them was enough to put a huge lump in my throat.  In life’s most challenging moments,  it means everything if we know that we’re loved and not forgotten.   ‘Twas grace.

And it was our collective love for Weston – and our gratitude for all he had given us – that brought us together that afternoon at the CFL to honor his life and legacy.  You know it’s a special gathering when you look out in the congregation and the likes of Anton Armstrong,  the conductor of the St. Olaf Choir,  Brad Holmes,  director of choral activities at Millikin College,  Craig Jessup,  former conductor of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,  and many more luminaries from the world of choral music.  There were Luther alumni there representing six decades of musical excellence.   And we were also blessed to have the college’s glorious present and future represented by the talented students comprising the present day Nordic Choir and Concert Band.  And for me personally,  it was so touching to look at Nordic and see my beautiful niece Aidan in the front row;  she and others in the choir were visibly moved to tears throughout the service, which only confirmed that Weston Noble means almost as much to these young people as he does to those of us who actually had him as a teacher and mentor and friend.  ‘Twas grace.

I loved so many moments in the service,  but I want to mention two in particular.   One of them was when the Concert Band played a beautiful piece by J.S. Bach,  the greatest of all Lutheran composers.  The Luther band first performed this piece when I was a student there and I still vividly remember the stunning moment when the members of the band-  having just played a few measures of introduction- began singing:   “Who puts his trust – in God most just – has built his house securely.   He who relies – on Jesus Christ – shall reach His heaven surely.”  I cried buckets!   I think it was a combination of the beauty of the music,  the simple eloquence of the words,  and the pure simplicity of those voices that were, at least for the most part, largely untrained.  The sincere quality of their singing was key to that performance being so touching.  I was thrilled that this was chosen for Weston’s memorial service because no text could have been more fitting for the occasion.   And what made this performance even more special was that Fred Nyline, conductor emeritus of the Luther band,  was invited to conduct it-  just as he first did 36 years ago.   I so appreciate the generosity of the current Luther faculty in welcoming Professor Nyline back to the podium for this special moment.   ‘Tis grace.

The Alumni Choir, as per Weston’s wishes,  sang Linda Palmer’s lovely arrangement of Pete Seeger’s “Turn, turn, turn” with Jane Henderson as soloist – hearkening back to when she soloed in this same song with Nordic back in 1971.  The current Nordic Choir sang Gilbert Martin’s moving arrangement of “When I survey the wondrous cross,”  which became a signature piece for Nordic back in 1982.   And everyone present joined in the joyous singing of Marty Haugen’s magnificent hymn “Soli Deo Gloria,”  which he composed in honor of Weston.  That singing nearly raised the roof right off of the CFL – as did the singing of the Hallelujah Chorus at the very end of the service.   But nothing was more moving than the singing of “O Lord God” by all past and present Nordic members who were there – with Andrew Last conducting with tears in his eyes as we sang “I will sing to the Lord as long as I live.”  All of us who were there were profoundly grateful for the opportunity to be part of such an astonishing throng of song.  ‘Twas grace.

I would certainly be remiss if I didn’t also mention the heartfelt eulogies that were offered up on this occasion.   It is never easy to describe a human being and their life in mere words-  and when one is talking about someone like Weston Noble,  it is pretty much impossible.  Where do you begin when one is talking about such a great man who lived such an extraordinary life?   You begin with family,  which in this case was his brother Lowell – family –  and George Gentes – “family” –   two people who knew Weston better than just about anyone else on the face of the earth.    There were also tributes from two of Weston’s closest friends from the world of choral music,  Diana Leland, a past president of the American Choral Directors Association, and Craig Jessop, a former conductor of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  And there was also a touching spoken tribute from Daniel Baldwin, who is the director of orchestras at Luther- who was a faculty colleague of Weston’s for many years, who talked about several of his most memorable encounters with him.  The story he told that I will never forget was also the briefest- as he poignantly shared about the night when Weston, along with Tim Peters,  came to his home to offer heartfelt condolences for a heartbreaking loss that he and his wife had suffered earlier that very day.  It was a reminder that Weston Noble was not someone who lived his life in a rose-colored haze of happiness, untouched by the cares and hurts of the world.   He knew full well that life also contains plenty of pain,  and the life of grace means being willing to walk with people in their sorrows.  ‘Tis grace.    I experienced that so powerfully in November of 1988 when my mother (who had served as Mr. Noble’s first secretary back in the mid 1960’s, and shared with him with a very sweet friendship)  died very suddenly at the age of 58.  Mr. Noble called me the next day to offer his heartfelt condolences and to let all of us know that he was grieving with us.   ‘Twas grace.

I think as much as anything,  this memorial service was a powerful reminder of what it means to live in community well beyond the standard circles of family or neighborhood or friends or colleagues or even alma mater.   This gathering reminded all of us who were there (whether physically present or there in spirit)  that we are blessed to be part of a community with plenty of people we know and love …. but teeming with many more people whom we do not know at all,  yet with whom we share a powerful and eternal thread.   We are people whose lives were and forever remain changed by having known and loved and been loved by Weston Noble.   What a blessing we all share.  What a blessing we have all been given, to live in the grace of God’s House.

‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far.  And grace will lead me home.

Soli Deo Gloria.  To God alone be the glory.