Hope is the Thing with Feathers: A LETTER FROM COS CELLIST DUSTIN SEO


Dear COS family,


Several weeks ago, I had the honor to join the COS staff in a short bible study with Bishop John Taylor during his visit at Church of Our Savior. The Bishop led us in a reflection of how we as a community can decide to move forward into a post pandemic world. The immediate temptation perhaps might be to take inventory of what went wrong; how did we as a society, and as individuals, fail to overcome this moment and spiral so deep into desperation? Yet, if we dig just a little deeper, we find that hope and resilience burns brightly- perhaps not in spite of, but because of our desperation. What if we move forward cherishing and leaning deeper into the vigorous hope and resilience that empowered us to push through our challenges?


For me, that flame of hope is a feeling of belongingness. During the last year, I found that invitation to belongingness here at Church of Our Savior. What started as a strange gig to play solo cello at an outdoor church service has blossomed into a community that I feel belonged to, and a safe home for me to grow in my faith and spirituality. I’ve come to deeply cherish the warm smiles, conversations, and spiritual healing I receive every Sunday.


I hope to give back the sense of community I receive from you all, and would love to offer an evening of chamber music, reflecting on the themes of hope and resilience. I’m excited to explore themes of hope and desperation in the music of Beethoven, Brahms, and my dear friend, Benjamin Shirley, all pieces which I have personally found respite in throughout the pandemic.


I hope you can join me for this evening of music and community on Saturday, July 24th, at 5pm in the historic sanctuary. There will also be a reception afterwards, and I would love to cherish our community together.


With love,

Dustin Seo



“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

-Emily Dickinson