By Callum The organ hums in a cathedral hush. Voices lift up like incense. Ellington directs—not with the flash of jazz clubs, but with the rhythm of prayer.
He weaves gospel and jazz into something holy: horns are hymns, piano keys are apostles. The congregation listens, not just to sound, but to echo—echo of suffering, hope, redemption.
Here there is no audience/performance divide. Each note is participation. Each chord is confession. The sacred becomes sonic tapestry: joy tangled with longing, voice with brass, word with silence.
When Ellington’s hands fall, reverence remains in the air. Sacred music does what music often cannot: it embraces what is divine and what is broken. It gathers both into harmony.