I was on the Metro this morning, on a running-late train, minding my own business with my nose in my Washington Post. We were stopped at a station. The doors closed and a man's voice behind me said, "Good morning. Excuse me, please." And he began to sing.
A lovely tenor with a foreign accent, Middle Eastern or Indian maybe, but I never saw his face so I don't really know. He sang three verses of "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." He was on key and he did a wonderful job. If you've ever tried to sing that song in public, believe me it's not easy. That song is a serious exercise in breath control!
He finished his song to some scattered applause, wished everyone in the car a blessed day, and left.
I never know quite what to think when something like that happens on the train. Sometimes it's a person who's a little unbalanced and it becomes an annoyance. And I always wonder what's going through other passengers' heads in this politically correct, relativistic world.
But sitting there listening to that song this morning, it made me grateful that I live in a place where that man could do that. For all the rhetoric in the world, he still has a right to do what he did, and there is still enough of a Christian bedrock in our society that no one booed him or told him to be quiet or otherwise prevented him from reminding us the true reason for the season.
Happy Advent!
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