There is a phrase in Zulu, pronounced with some marvellous clicks, that means ‘singing makes all the sad people happy, because singing is the voice of happiness’.Last night, I heard Quire, Belfast’s GLBT choir, perform. There was music, there was community, there were grannies, there were parents eagerly staring at the entry door through which the choir were preparing to enter – there were songs from musicals, the muppets, songs from the charts, Hebrew, Christian, there were missed notes, there were other concerts with more professional voices, but last night at the Black Box was a celebration, a joy. I was deeply moved. At one point, during the final number (why do we call songs numbers?), the guy who was the director turned around and sang above the choir. Ignatius speaks about the glory of God being found in a human being fully alive. This man last night, singing, arms outstretched, sounding nothing less than fabulous and knowing it, was a man fully alive. He shimmied to a groove and loved it. What a performanace – a human fully himself. Of course, at the end of the solo, I joined in the throng of cheers, the throng of applause, the spontaneous celebration in someone who gave so joyfully. Singing makes all the sad people happy because singing is the voice of happiness.