keeping score

Yesterday I played for a local Baptist church's Christmas service. My second in two weeks. And I did, then, get a taste of being the weakest link, as the other dozen or so orchestra members were what you might call 'real' musicians, with names and reputations I recognized. I held up my end of the notes, I did. But there was none of the wow in me either at the rehearsal (which left me pale and exhausted) and the actual performance yesterday (which left me breathless and empty). I liked rubbing shoulders with so many very very great local musicians, and the French horns especially just wrecked me—I was sitting right in front of them. And yes, the music, the arrangement, the quality of the conductor and the choir were all beyond reproach. And yes, I was handed a check for $175 for my services on my way out. But for whatever reason, even though I was playing pretty well (still worse than last weekend, I think), and even though we ended with the Hallelujah Chorus and it was heavenly, I got over the whole deal very quickly and am not and will not be haunted by the music we made and the me I was. I keep thinking, what is wrong with this picture, when a church can afford to pay an orchestra of 15 or so $175 a pop for a few hours of music? I mean, it was good music. But it was so fleeting. Couldn't you have donated that money to a food bank? I ask, as I pocket the check and sidle away. Well.