e careful what you pray for,” the title of an article I wrote several years ago for the Texas Episcopalian, has been a haunting reminder of an unquestionable truth: don't ask if you don't want an answer.

The original article was a step-by-step chronicle of my journey to build a parish church choir. Each of those steps had produced great results; God had so chosen to bless that particular parish with a remarkable choir. The answer to the oft offered suggestions, such as "When are we going to England" and “Why can't we make a CD like St. Ethelberta, the Unprepared,” prompted my standard reply, “Be careful what you pray for!”

I knew that God answers our prayers, just as I also knew that the answers we receive could be in forms quite different from what we might anticipate. With new opportunities and challenges come ever-increasing responsibilities and demands.

Since I had authored my “Be careful” article as cautionary advice directed at those, including myself, who forget that there is a flipside to God's benevolence, I was certainly bound to remember that truth as I prayed for this and that, some odds and ends in choir building, and I had to make sure that I was ready to accept an answer. “Send me something else” was not even a contemplated response: “Lord, I asked for a car, a brand of distinction and style, probably in the Mercedes line, but never a used van with no A/C!”

Chorus Angelorum, as we call ourselves, was formed as a response to my most sincere and fervent prayer, “Lord, show me a way,” a simple enough request. When the answer came, in the form of an invitation for a choral residency at St. Mary's Cathedral (Anglican) in Edinburgh, Scotland, for a week in July, 2000, there wasn't even an incipient choir waiting in the wings for a cue to enter. The leap of faith meant going about the formation of a choir in reverse order, that is, accepting the invitation to sing before having the singers needed for the ensemble.

I've made unpredictable decisions in my past so it wasn't completely out of character to respond to the challenge in the manner that I did. However, I also recognized this as a wonderful opportunity and possibly a response to my prayer. Was there doubt or fear in what might or might not happen? Not for one moment! Would anyone with doubt have done such a thing? The rest, as they say, is history.

The residency was as rewarding as was anticipated. The group became a cohesive choral ensemble in those few days at St. Mary's, and upon returning to Houston, any doubts I might have had as to what should happen next seemed to be removed with little effort. St. Thomas' Episcopal Church, Houston, offered Chorus Angelorum another sort of residency, a place for weekly rehearsals and a monthly schedule of evensongs.

Along with that nearly overwhelming response of support and goodwill came help with our monthly mailings and a gem of a person keen on designing and maintaining a website for the new chorus. We had a new spiritual home and a most professional look. (I was beginning to think that God's answers really do go according to His plans, not mine.)

The following nine months produced many, many wonderful experiences as the Chorus went about its business leading the community in worship and praise of God. Monthly evensongs stacked one upon the other, each one offering new musical insights and spiritual development, finally ending the season in May with a musical tribute to Herbert Howells, unquestionably one of the giants in 20th century church music.

To me, being able, and willing, to tackle the complications and demands of even one piece of music by HH, much less an entire evensong of head-scratching and seemingly improbable harmonies, meant much more than simply getting through the notes. It represented my unfailing faith in the group's abilities as an ensemble to tackle such an undertaking. More importantly, it meant that the choir had actually moved into a different plateau of musical understanding and expertise. It signified an arrival, a benchmark, of sorts among its peers, and now it was safe to assume that the rest would follow, “the rest” meaning any and all of the great music composed especially for liturgical use within the context of Anglican worship.

“Chorus Angelorum…is devoted to the propagation and continued use of traditional Anglican music in the context of liturgy [using the 1662 Book of Common Prayer], supporting the doctrines and ethos of the Anglican communion.” Quite a lofty goal, I know, but it seemed then, as it does now, that anything less would shortchange our very reason for being. That statement, and all of its ramifications, greatly supported my desire to organize the first semi-annual choral workshop, held in August, 2001, to be sponsored by the Chorus.

Entitled “Byrd and His Tudor Friends,” the workshop was aimed at area singers who felt a need to explore, in depth, musical literature from what is considered the Golden Age of Anglican church music, music written during the reigns of the Tudor sovereigns during most of the 16th century. As the clinician, I chose a recognized leader in this specialized field, David Trendell, Chapel Organist, Director of the Chapel Choir and Lecturer at King's College, London.

For the workshop, to act as his lab rats or guinea pigs, whichever seems most appropriate, I asked him to bring a solo quartet of singers with him. They would act as section leaders within the chorus, a safety net of sorts, but their professional status meant that they would also know, almost innately, as it seemed, the stylistic nuances needed to bring Byrd's music, and that of his many colleagues, to life, to expose the relevancy to those who might have doubted such a significance in 21st century church music, and to reaffirm existing devotees and fans.

Another leap of faith? I didn't really think so. It certainly had the outward appearance of something more akin to an Aztec ritual human sacrifice, but with so much greatness assembled in one place, how could it not succeed? The not-so-surprising report is that none of us participants were in the least disappointed. We had been taken to the top of the volcano, and rather than be rudely pushed off the rim, we were taught to fly.

“What's left to be done?” one might ask. There isn't really an answer to that question because the entire plan simply continues to unfold, quite astonishingly. I interpret the word “propagation” to mean something like "spread the Word by leaving the nest from time to time" so Chorus Angelorum will be doing just that. In the Fall, 2001, we will be singing in Dallas, Texas, at Church of the Incarnation, singing evensong on our own, following a mass with combined choirs in the morning. In 2002, Chorus Angelorum will be returning to England, the well-spring of its being, to assume another residency.

Be careful what you pray for? Absolutely. Don't, however, take the simplicity of that prayerful workhorse lightly, by any means. Neither be afraid of the answer. Rather, embrace it as a challenge, with all its uncertainties, as a most special gift from God. There is yet another chorus of angels awaiting a response.

--Ed Franklin, Artistic Director, Chorus Angelorum