He Was Singing

On January 12, 2010, a 7.0-magnitude earthquake struck the Caribbean nation of Haiti. It was a Tuesday, and a year later, the death toll would be estimated somewhere around 316,000 people. One of those casualties was an American man named Benjamin Larson, a Lutheran missionary working at the St. Joseph’s Home for Boys located up the mountain from the capital city of Port-au-Prince.

The notion of writing a piece of music about Ben’s last moments occurred to me after I heard an interview with his wife, Renee, and cousin, Jonathan. The three of them were together during the earthquake, and the way in which the two survivors talk about their experience was immensely moving for two reasons. First, Renee and Jonathan tell their stories with such grace that it is impossible not to be affected in a profound way. Secondly, Ben’s last words were sung.

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He Was Singing will appear on the surface to be the story of how Ben spent his final moments, but it is meant as much, much more than that. It is intended to serve as a testament to the power of singing, the importance of service, the connection between a husband and wife, and a gentle reminder that there are still people suffering all over the world who are in need of our help.

Attempting to honor Ben’s life, and while at the same time respecting the emotions of those who lost him, is something that I took very seriously. Because of this, there are elements of Ben’s life and work knit into almost every measure of the music. The first three pitches sung by the sopranos and altos are B, E, and A-sharp (the third pitch is a substitution for the letter “N”), and this motive occurs multiple times in every movement. His name is literally written all over the work.

The first two movements are a pair of recollections which use text from the interview Ben’s wife, Renee, did with Minnesota Public Radio in the month following the earthquake. A fragment of one of the Beatitudes is also present (sung in Creole) at the outset of “Searching.”

The third movement is where all the concepts surrounding Ben’s life and death collapse into a single piece of music. The “Ben Motive” returns and gently points the way to his final words as sung by a soloist. Renee couldn’t make out the third line of his hymn, so an adapted verse from the Haitian poet, Tontongi, stands in for him “(Come here and bring your love along”). The choir then responds by singing the original Lutheran hymn Ben was referencing and a text by American poet Marie Howe attempts to turn grief into a luminous memory while gliding over another Beatitude sung in Creole.

Things slow down considerably after this point, and the final text for “Singing” is an adaptation from the Bhagavad Gita.  In a way, it is the final time that Ben “speaks” in the work. It reads:

            Wherever and whenever there is suffering, I will be there.

The final movement uses a text by Haitian poet Tontongi, and it reminds us that there is work to be done. The notion of what Ben’s life meant to everybody he loved is out there waiting in a place “for all of us in need of transformation.” And that change could literally mean anything. When I hear the words “you have to go there,” I don’t always think of a physical place. We can help people who are in emotional pain as well (“if only with the smiles of your mouths”) and attempt, in our own ways, to make the world a better place.

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This piece was not an easy one to write, and I am deeply indebted to two very important families for their support. First, Dean and Laura Gesme decided to commission a piece for The Singers, and when I told them of this concept, they immediately found the universality in the message of Ben’s life and work.  Most importantly, I owe immense thanks to the Larson family for allowing me to gently take up Ben’s memory and attempt to make it shine even brighter. It is one of the most profound honors of my life as a composer and they have my most heartfelt gratitude and admiration.

It occurs to me that people like Ben—regardless of how they are actively engaged in helping others in any part of the world—are fulfilling the same, beautiful sense of service that he believed in; the idea that we are all in this together and we are all each others’ proverbial keeper. His life was the manifestation of the will to do good in the world, and that notion is still very much alive.  If you’d like to learn more about the inspiring work that Ben did at the St. Joseph’s Home for Boys in Port-au-Prince, you can visit www.heartswithhaiti.org.

-Joshua Shank