Music and Rites

The biggest rite that I can think of that has just recently taken place in my life is my eldest sister's wedding. In this ceremony, both my middle sister and I provided the music as we watched our sister give herself away to the man who had stolen her heart and who had also stolen her away from us. He was moving back to Washington State to return to his family, and she moved out there with him. My other sister and I knew we would be called upon to play the music for her wedding, so we immediately began compiling a list of pieces we could play, and sure enough a phone call came soon after she moved away.
The situation was precarious for myself: I'm not a religious person, yet the Catholic church she was getting married in required only certain songs be played. None of the traditional songs we had picked out seemed to apply--except for Pachelbel's Canon. Ugh! It's a beautiful song, but once you play that bass line three thousand times, it gets pretty monotonous. But, this was for my sister's wedding, and so I resigned myself to play the Canon in D for the millionth time.
The bass line began, I was alone as both sisters awaited their entrance, and it was then that I saw the look on my now brother-in-law's face. It was an indescribable look, full of happiness and terror as he watched the woman in the white gown drawing nearer. The theme came in and he nearly lost control, but he was not the only one: my father was also nearly about to lose the composure that he had kept all weekend since we arrived. It was then, while daydreaming and watching everyone else and STILL playing the bass line in tempo and in tune (I've played it many many times before), that I realized exactly what was happening. The people around had associated this music with the bride's entrance, and as they gazed at her beauty, the piece was made all the lovlier.
The particular swells and tones of the violin mixed with the steady constant sound of the cello mixed and created a mood of awe and anticipation. The people of the audience and the people in front of everyone else seemed to feel how important this moment was all at the same time. There was a sense of uniformity and, finally, the sense of family that had eluded us all weekend. We had all come together for this moment: Pachelbel's Canon, the arrival of the bride. Everyone had known from my first note that this was a special moment that would resonate with us for all of our lives. We were becoming a family.
Now, I don't view the Canon with as much disdain--although I still complain if I have to play it. Who wouldn't? But, ever since I saw my sister given away by my tearing father, I have had so much more respect and admiration for it. This one lone piece, this piece that is so well-known throughout the world and played so much brought us all together. A family was realized with its first and last notes, and friends were made that will not soon be forgotten. Three thousand miles away the music of the ceremony touched us. Three thousand miles away, the music of the ceremony set a particular mood, allowed us to feel what was truly within our hearts, and created lasting relationships and memories that will be in the fore-front of our minds for years to come.