If you don’t know Alan, this won’t mean a thing to you, and you can wait for the next post.  This is my tribute to a good friend who loved music, loved his church, and loved being a Baptist. 

“A Missing Voice”
A Eulogy for Alan Roper
Friday, May 23, 2008

What to say about Alan?  I can only imagine how many of you are there now, missing him as much as I do.  And just like you, I know the struggles that Alan faced these last few months – and while I miss him, I am also very glad that he is free from pain, and whole once again.  And I have no doubt he’s already found his seat in the bass section of the heavenly choir, and is furiously fanning to keep himself cool!

Any of you who have sung in a choir – or any of you who have taken the time to listen to one – can appreciate the subtle art that choral singing is.  And to be a good choral musician takes several important skills.

The first, you might think, is a voice.  But that’s not true: to sing in a choir takes more than just a good voice – in fact, I’ve known some really good choral singers who didn’t have a beautiful “solo” voice.  No, the most important thing you need to sing in a choir is a trained and sensitive ear.  You have to be able to listen carefully to everyone around you, both the ones singing your part and the ones singing other parts.

Second, using that ear, you have to learn how to blend in with the group.  It takes a fine balance – if you sing too loudly, people hear YOU instead of the GROUP, and that’s not the point.  If you sing too softly, you might as well not be up there at all!

Third, you also have to know your part so well that you can “march to your own beat” even while listening to the other parts.  Some choral pieces have so many confusing parts that you practically have to have your part memorized so that you can pick your part out in the chaos!

Finally, a good choral musician can be a leader.  Not everyone in a choir is a perfect musician – it takes everyone to make the choir sing.  But there are certain singers who are “leaders.”  The “leaders” sing their part strongly and confidently – not so loud that they stick out, but in such a way that the “leaners” can hear them and join their strength.  The “leaders” know the whole piece, and they can see the “big picture.”  They can lend a confident note when the group is dragging or rushing ahead.  Their voices are the glue that holds a choir together.  A good choral leader can sing in such a way that you hardly notice that he or she is there – but you know without a doubt when they’re not.

I had the pleasure of meeting Alan when I first came to Crosscreek back in 1999, and he was that kind of “leader” in my choir during the whole time I was minister of music here.  In fact, on the slim Sundays, he was my entire bass section sometimes!  Alan had a good solo voice, and willingly sang solos for the worship services.  But he was really at home singing in a group.  When he was part of the section, he was truly the “leader,” knowing his part (often memorized, probably so he could have a hand free to fan) and singing it flawlessly and confidently so the others could follow.  If he was the only one singing his part, Alan was a perfect choral musician even then – he could make his voice blend with the others in such a way that if you weren’t looking, you’d think there were several people singing with him.

He was at home up there, in his seat in the choir, and he was consistent.  There were a few rehearsals and services when I’d only have one or two singers – and without fail, Alan was always one of those singers.  He was always present – always on the back row – and always prepared.  If he was absent, everyone noticed.

As I’ve thought back over my memories of Alan in the last few days, I realized that Alan was this kind of “leader” in more than just the choir.  He was that kind of leader in the church and in our lives as well.  He wasn’t the kind of leader that was always out front, capturing your attention and giving directions.  No, we need those kinds of leaders – but we also need leaders who can listen quietly and sensitively.  We need leaders who know where they fit in the group, who know what their part is, and who can confidently remind us of what’s important.  Alan was that kind of leader.

First, like a choral musician with a sensitive ear, Alan was in tune with those around him.  He was sensitive, caring and thoughtful.  He was always thinking of others when he did something, and in his quiet way, he often knew what was needed before anyone else did.  Many times, I’d come to rehearsal or the service to find that things had already been prepared – water had been set out, coffee had been made, music had been straightened and put in folders.  He’d often ask me if there was anything he could do to help me get ready – and he’d have it done before I could give it a second thought.  He frequently invited Tanya and me to concerts or other musical events that were going on around town.  And almost every time I let him know about a performance I was doing, he would be there giving his support.

I’m not at all surprised to hear how well he left things in order.  When I spoke to him on the phone the last few times, we talked about death, sickness and faith.  And he’d tell me he was ready – ready for heaven, and ready here on earth to leave things behind in good shape.  He was thinking about how he could make his passing easiest on those he loved.

Second, like a good choral musician with a careful voice, Alan knew how to “blend in.”  Alan was quiet, and even awkward sometimes – he’d come and stand at the door of my office and… well, just stand there.  He’d have this look that made me think he wanted to say something, and I’d ask him what was up.  He’d always say, “oh, nothing!”  And then he’d keep standing there.  He just enjoyed being around people – and was one of those rare people who didn’t mind not having to say something.  He hardly ever drew attention to himself – but you always knew when he was there.  And you always missed him when he wasn’t.

Third, like a good choral musician, Alan knew his part and how he fit into the group.  And he didn’t mind if he was the only one singing his “part!”  He was just so distinctive and unique – he had his own ways and his own tastes, and it didn’t matter if you liked them or not.

Crosscreek is a casual church, anyway.  But you could always tell the informal mood by looking at Alan.  Don’t get me wrong – he’d wear a tie when he needed to.  But his favorite Sunday outfit – at least when I was there – was a pair of shorts and a CBF polo.  If it was 20 degrees outside?  Shorts and a CBF polo, and he’d insist he wasn’t cold.  If it was 100 degrees outside?  Shorts and a CBF polo, and a CBF fan in one hand.

I remember when the PT Cruiser first became popular, and Alan wanted one so badly.  He was still driving around his early-90’s white Honda Accord with the “1ACCORD” license plate on the back that he thought was so clever.  He’d come to my office with a brochure, or show me some website that gave a review of the Cruiser.  I told him several times that I didn’t like the looks of one, and that I thought he’d be better off in an SUV or something equally ridiculous.  But it didn’t matter.  Alan kept on dreaming of his PT Cruiser.  Finally, though, he ended up buying a brand new Accord… I guess he just loved that license plate too much.

He loved spicy food!   I like to have a little spice in my food, but Alan liked REALLY spicy food.  Alan was my thermometer – if he ever said, “hmm, that’s a little spicy,” I knew to stay away.  You couldn’t find him at a church meal without a bottle of Tabasco or some other concoction nearby.  And he’d go through half a bottle in a meal.  He usually sat by me at church meals, and he’d always offer me some hot sauce with a grin – and I’d always politely refuse.  One day I let him prepare a bowl of chili for me… I never did THAT again.

Alan certainly knew his part, and he sang it for all he was worth!

Finally, like a good choral musician, Alan also saw the “big picture,” and gave us confidence and reminded us of what was important.  When he found something he cared about, he was passionate and driven to do whatever he could to support it.

He loved his church – Crosscreek was his main passion, and he was here just about every time the doors opened.  He had his opinions on church business – and if he didn’t stand up in a meeting, you’d always hear him making sure people understood his viewpoints before and afterwards.  He looked out carefully for what was best for the church, and had careful opinions about worship and music in particular.  Some of the times I’ve seen Alan the maddest, was in his arguments with Bob Holt over the placement of the candles, paraments, and offering plates in the sanctuary!

He gave blood religiously, until the Red Cross told him he couldn’t give anymore because of a condition he had.  Even then, on blood bank Sundays, Alan would wear one of the many t-shirts he’d gotten for giving in the past.  He knew how important it was to give blood, and always got on my case when I didn’t give.

I mentioned his CBF polo shirt, and that reminds me of something else that was important to Alan.  He supported CBF with everything he was – from attending meetings to wearing advertisements.  When I was at Crosscreek – and probably long before and after – he was the unofficial CBF “mascot,” and you could always count on him to be up on the latest Baptist news.  Even after I left, I found Alan’s comments and presence on several moderate Baptist blogs and websites.  When I moved to Kenbridge, I knew I’d always see Alan at least once a year – at national Assembly.  I found myself scanning the crowds for his red forehead bobbing along toward me.

Alan, you will be greatly missed.  Your voice is absent in the bass section, and your confident, quiet, and unique presence is absent among our family.  I thank God for you – for your musicianship, for your leadership, and for your friendship.  And most of all, I thank God that I’ll be able to sing beside you in the bass section again one day.  Save me a seat – and I’ll be sure to bring a fan.

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