I first sang in a performance of Messiah at age 13 and, as I’m 64 now, I reckon I must have about 30 Messiahs behind me. I know the alto parts of all the choruses by heart and most of the arias, too, but I find I still have lots to learn from every conductor who dares to take on this great work.

The choir I sing with now does it every year in early December, with only four or five rehearsals to prepare. It’s always a bit tense, even though most of the singers know their parts as well as I do, because the real challenge isn’t the notes, it’s making all those moving parts work together — often in a space with iffy acoustics. With more than a hundred choristers and four soloists packed into the chancel of a big old-fashioned Roman Catholic church, the sopranos on the left end can’t hear the altos on the right, but the back row of the audience (just inside the main doors) can hear a bass in the back row of the chorus (up against the altar) ask the guy beside him for a Kleenex.