Patch Blogs: An Angel Sings

The first five to six years of my life were spent living in a very small one-bedroom house directly behind my grandfather’s house. Since my grandfather’s house was only a few feet away from ours it was my habit to go there throughout the day where I was always greeted by my Aunt Katie as I bounded through the back door into the kitchen.

She would always greet me with a hug and a kiss and tell me how happy she was to see me. Usually my presence would interrupt her as she was working. Aunt Katie was always working. This was because my grandmother, Aunt Katie’s mother, had died shortly after Aunt Katie graduated from high school. Her older sister had married and left home and Aunt Katie being the only woman left in the family felt that it was her duty to stay at home and care for her father and two brothers who still lived at home. This was a duty that she accepted freely but as I was to find out later at a great price.

For you see Aunt Katie had a gift — a wonderful gift visited upon very few — she could sing. Not your ordinary everyday singing where people say that you have a nice voice and they enjoy hearing you sing. The story in the family was that Aunt Katie turned down an opportunity to go to New Your City and sing professionally; she turned down that opportunity because she felt it was her obligation to stay at home and care for her father and brothers.

Invariably when I went to see her she was either on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor or doing the laundry of three men who worked in the steel mill. But this day I was greeted by a different scene; she had her best coat on, her hair was done up in the peasant style of her father’s native Hungary and I remember thinking how nice she looked. I asked where she was going and she told me she was going to church and asked if I wanted to go along. I said “sure." I took her hand and we walked the few blocks to the little Hungarian church that served the area‘s Hungarian immigrants.

The church was empty when we entered; she motioned to the back pew, told me to sit there and be good. I watched as she disappeared behind the alter and began to fidget as was the duty of any 5-year-old boy. Soon people started entering the church, hurriedly vying for seats in the pews that were closet to the alter. It wasn’t too long before the church was packed. It was as though this day was some sort of a special occasion. I was to learn later that many of the people had come from as far away as Pennsylvania because of what was to occur there today. A special occasion, as it turned out, which was to feature my Aunt Katie.

As soon as the church was full it was impossible for this 5-year-old boy to see anything over the church full of adults blocking his view of the alter. I noticed that the choir loft was empty that day so I quietly crept out the back door and up the stairs to the choir loft. With a stealth worthy of the best spy I bent low, almost crawling, and made my way to the rail at the bottom of the choir loft. I slowly peered just above the base of the railing and as I did the church became very quiet as the priest made his entrance onto pulpit. He faced the alter, clasped his hands in a brief prayer then went to his chair at the side of the alter and sat down. The silence was such that I could sense a great anticipation rising from the congregation below.

After what seemed like an eternity, Aunt Katie walked out from behind the alter. It was an Aunt Katie that I had never seen before. She was beautiful! She was dressed in a brightly colored peasant dress. The kind with a bodice embroidered with flowers and a skirt that billowed outward with innumerable petticoats. Her hair had been done in braids and wrapped around her head and adorned with yellow flowers. She walked to the center of the alter, put her hands together and bowed her head as though she was going to say a prayer. Instead of saying a prayer she started to sing. Softly at first while keeping her head bowed low. I didn't know the words she was singing but their import was unmistakable.

She was singing the Ave Maria.

I looked at the congregation and every eye was on Aunt Katie as the song flowed from her. As the emotion of her singing rose it wasn’t just Aunt Katie singing the song. It wasn't even a song that was being sung. Instead it was a spiritual experience that enveloped Aunt Katie, the congregation and even myself even though I didn’t know the meaning of the words or the significance  of the Ave Maria. As Aunt Katie’s voice and emotion rose she lifted her head to the heavens; this time there was no mistaking that Aunt Katie was praying.

I once again looked down at the congregation and I noticed many of those in attendance had tears streaming down their cheeks. It just wasn’t the women who were caught up in the emotion of the moment — many of the men too could not hold back their feelings at what they were experiencing. And these were men as hard as steel; tough Hungarian immigrants who had experienced all kinds of difficulties as they struggled to make a new life in this country.

As Aunt Katie neared the end of the Ave Maria her voice rose to a point where it was not a mere mortal singing, it was as though an angel had visited this little earthbound church and was rejoicing in her love of God. At that moment the sun, which had been shining outside, became perfectly aligned with a small circle of white glass in a stained glass window and a perfect, sublime beam of sunlight encircled Aunt Katie. It was as though God himself was shining a spotlight down on her in order to see where this wondrous voice was coming from. I believe that then and there a place was reserved for Aunt Katie in the heavenly choir.

As the last notes of the Ave Maria resonated throughout the church she bowed her head and after a moment went back behind the alter. Nary a sound could be heard in the church, not even a whispered “amen” was spoken. After several moments the priest rose and made his way to the center of the alter and I made my way back to my seat.

More that 60 years have passed since that amazing Sunday. Aunt Katie has now taken her rightful place in the heavenly choir and I know that the heavenly choir is one special voice sweeter. There are certain things that people remember from their journeys throughout their lives. For some it is their first love, their wedding day, the birth of their children. But as for me, should I live to be more than 100, I will never forget the day I saw and heard an angel sing the Ave Maria.