The principal attraction of sanctuary choir participation is that you can look down from the balcony at the people in the congregation and gossip about which of us seem to be balding at an accelerating rate without drawing attention to yourself if you’re reasonably quiet. Physics being physics, it is also the warmest place in the church in the dead of the winter, and you may find yourself marveling at the slow pace at which those of us in the pews below shuck off our jackets when you rolled up your shirtsleeves before the prelude. The sanctuary has two ecosystems.
The possible downside–depending on how you feel about singing–is that you’re actually expected to sing. It’s a small enough group that each voice is heard, so you cannot get by silently mouthing “watermelon” repeatedly as you did as a kid during the Christmas pageant when you forgot the words to “Away in a Manger.” But Susan is a very kind and patient director with extremely dry English wit, and on the remote chance she says something unkind about your vocal technique, you may not even realize it until days later you are recalling the practice and think “Wait a minute….was that actually a compliment?”