Keep Going

This past Sunday was Easter Sunday, so, as a church organist let me just say

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

It may be just me, but I rather imagine other organists reading this would have a similar experience. Sure, I am up and around this week, alive and well and practicing, but it does seem to take at least a week to really clear up the fog in my head after a major church holiday. It's not easy to pick up and keep on keeping on after an expenditure of energy like Easter. A couple of years ago I even blogged about a couple of famous organists who died right after major holidays and hoped dramatically that it would not be my lot. Sure, Marcel Dupre was already old when he kicked off Pentecost afternoon after the service, but Pierre Cochereau hadn't arrived at 60 when he died of a brain hemorrhage two days after Easter.

I've no plans to shuffle off this mortal coil, and by comparison I feel just fine, thanks. Just....really tired. But next week starts with a Sunday, too. And they come fast.

And to make it worse, few people will be in church. This past weekend Faith had nearly a thousand worshippers. This coming week, I'll bet it will be somewhere in the low 200s. (On an average Sunday we have around 400). After you've been to the mountaintop, it's hard to just pick up and do it again. It's hard not to want a little rest. And while many in our Faith family will be getting just that, sleeping in and what-not, I'll be back at the organ, and the piano, and the keyboard, doing what I do every week. Being consistent. Which is easier if you are consistently dull, or consistently simple, or consistently not conscientious. It is tougher when you've put the pedal to the floor one week, pulled out the stops, thrown a party, played twelve verses of Christ the Lord is Risen today to raise the roof and blasted the Widor Toccata twice at the end of a service filled with loud music and celebration. Gosh, how many notes did I play that morning? How many did I leave on the floor?

This may be "low Sunday" (as in "low attendance"--traditionally the least attended Sunday of the year) but it is not, at least in liturgical terms, unimportant. Easter just got started. It's a whole season. For that matter, it's a way of life. "I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:10).  In order to illustrate that point in music, I'll be playing this piece on Sunday. It is full of bumptious joy:

Marteau: "The Word"  from Pianomass

Fortunately, I recorded it before Easter, when I wasn't even sure when I'd be playing it. Now all I have to do is find enough energy to proclaim it to the congregation on Sunday. I sure don't feel like it right now. But it's only Wednesday.