Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord

What was he thinking? What was in Francois Couperin's head while he was writing "Mass for the Parishes?" Specifically, what did he have in mind for the 2nd verse of the Sanctus, which happens to be what I'll be "feeding" my congregation this weekend. I'll be doing it in absentia, thanks to our playback system. I actually recorded it in December, while working my way through the entire mass, most of which you can hear at pianonoise on the Listen page. And since our pipe organ was rewired in 2014, it can record any data from the console, included stop changes, swell and crescendo pedal movement, and of course, all the notes. So even though I'll likely still be in the hospital for a second cycle of chemotherapy, I can still share music with my congregation, which feels pretty good.

It also hasn't stopped me from asking questions, one of which I shared with the congregation, courtesy of the church bulletin. The question was: why? Given that solemnity in worship was the order of the day, and still often is, in worship, given that this was the Catholic Church in the 18th century, and given the tight guidelines laid down by the archbishop for any organist who wrote a mass, which surely would have not encouraged much levity, what would be the cause of such a light, pleasant little piece? I'll let you listen to it before I prattle on too much. It's only a minute and twenty seconds:

listen

Couperin's Mass is, mostly, much more solemn than this. Even the Gloria, the part of the Mass which is filled with praise for the glory of God, spends most of its time in a minor key. So this seems odd.

First, a little background. Couperin's Mass would have been part of the Mass celebration of the Catholic church. The way that worked, was that monks would have chanted each verse of each part of the mass, starting with the Kyrie (confession), then the Gloria (praise), the Credo (statement for beliefs), the Sanctus (glory to God), the Agnus Dei (communion), benediction and dismissal. The organist would play a short piece after each chanted verse, alternating with the singing, except for the Credo, during which the organist was forbidden to play (hence there is no Credo section in Couperin's Mass) and making up for it with a long offertory afterward.

Part of what would determine the character, as well as the key (and the mode--major or minor) would be the chants that came before. Another thing that the organist was required to do was to use the chant melody in at least the first verse of each section, per orders of the archbishop. Keep that in mind.

Now I'll try to touch on a huge subject very briefly. It has to do with appropriateness in church music. We'll at least limit it to French organists. We'll start with the most egregious example I can think of. Lefebure-Wely wrote music for his church that even his fellow organists thought sounded much too cavalier and popular. But he was popular with his parishioners; priests could clench their teeth all they wanted. Here is his most famous postlude:

listen

Lefebure-Wely comes much later than Couperin, however, about 150 years. He lived after the French revolution which tried to stamp out the Catholic Church in France, and after Napoleon halfheartedly brought it back. If there was ever a time for cynicism in France, this was it. Let's get a little closer to Couperin.

Before the revolution (though he lived through it as well) was a fellow named Balbastre. He was very popular with his congregation, too, playing jigs and waltzes during masses, and annoying the priests, who sometimes forbade him from playing, despite the fact that whenever he did, the church was always packed. Was it jealousy? A sense of injured propriety? He didn't seem to be taking the mass that seriously, after all. Here is a set of variations he wrote on a Christmas carol:

listen

This was also a tradition in France. And while Balbastre was born only 9 years before Couperin died, we can trace the tradition back to the generation after Couperin, by way of Daquin, who also wrote a pretty jiggy version of a Noel. He was born 26 years after Couperin, so we're getting a bit closer.

listen

Then there is Nicolas deGrigny, who was born only 6 years after Couperin, and wrote this gigue-like verse of a hymn to the Holy Spirit:

listen

So it is not like the French couldn't cut a rug--or a gigue--even in church. The priests may not have liked it, but they don't seem to have been able to stop it. Still, Couperin, seems to have been relatively well behaved. The last section of his massive offertory from the same mass is nearly in the same style as the deGrigny we just heard, but the mass is mostly pretty somber. If you're in the mood, you can hear most of it in the listening room in the organ section, under Couperin.

And then there is the fact that there are two Sanctus pieces. I don't know exactly where they fit, but the first one might fit after this text:

"Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Power and Might. Heaven and Earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the Highest!:

listen

That's pretty majestic, actually. Full stops and lots of heavy sound. But then the Sanctus goes on:

"Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!"

Now is it possible that the composer wanted to change the mood to one of joy at the coming of the Savior, as opposed to the majesty and glory of an awesome, and fearsome, God?

Perhaps.

listen

As usual, I'm left asking more questions, and without the time to really delve into the subject, aka read books and articles and generally do more research. I've a feeling I'll be getting to that, especially as I have less time to play the music. And as musicologist sometimes don't ask these questions it may take time to connect with more curious souls who are interested, not just in the music itself, but how it worked in its original context. The same way people can spend all of their time wondering how the Bible speaks to us today without wondering what it was intended to mean to its first hearers (which is after all much harder to find out).

This weekend, my congregation gathers around the communion table, and, without realizing it perhaps, speaks those same ancient words that form the Sanctus, as old as the oldest Catholic Mass, still preserved in our Methodist worship. And the piece I'll be playing in absentia during communion is nearly in the same place it would have gone in Couperin's church, only a little later and without the chanting and the incense. There is a connection, but it is of course not an unbroken tradition. This is a varied world, and the poor priests who try to make it uniform never manage to succeed in quelling a variety of styles, innovation, exuberance, and criticism for their efforts. But things don't entirely fly apart, either. There is still a center. And, if we look hard enough, we can still find it.

Easter

In three days, Easter will be here. If you are an organist, however, you get stuck in a time warp. Easter has already been here. The instant the Holy Thursday service ended in darkness and silence, you ran across the hall and started to rehearse Easter music with the assembled company. And on Good Friday morning, you finally got around to dusting off the Widor Toccata for another year.

If you're me, that is. I don't know what your schedule is like.

Fortunately, the Widor came back pretty fast. A couple of run throughs and it felt ready. One more for good measure. I play most of it from memory so I don't have to have 80 pages crowding the music rack with tiny font. Only the first and last two pages are up--it just makes me feel better to start with the music, for some reason, and the last page is where all the gymnastic hand crossings are. I've been playing the piece every Easter for over a decade to conclude the service, and this is the first year I've been particularly worried about it. But about that later.

We have a tradition at Faith of starting the service in darkness, just where the passion service left off. The choir sings an introit which begins quietly, and as the lights come up, the pastors remove the black sheet and the crown of thorns from the altar; then replace the Bible, add some flowers, put back the white paraments, and as the music swells and the faint glow becomes a blazing light, the choir begins to process from the back of the sanctuary. At the conclusion of the introit, the organist improvises an introduction to the opening hymn, Christ the Lord is Risen Today, in which we usually feature trumpets.

All of that is at the start of the service. Then welcomes and announcements. "Christ is Risen!" shouts the pastor. "He is Risen Indeed!" shout all the people. Except the year that the pastor shouted the second line and the people couldn't figure out what to do. At least he didn't wish everybody a Merry Christmas, like a pastor at my mother's church.

Everybody is excited, and if you aren't touched by the emotions of the moment, your nose is running anyhow from all the flowers. Boy are they pungent!

An anthem from the choir. A reading from the scripture. A sermon. A choral offertory. The choir gets up early on Easter morning and sings at the 8 o'clock service as well as the 10:30. And it is a full service. Full enough that I am not likely to make it on time for the second service, which begins at 9. But after the offertory, and the doxology, in which we bring back the one with all the "alleluias" for the first time in seven weeks (feels good!), it is time for the closing hymn about resurrection, in which I sneak in references to the Widor Toccata, and then, of course, the piece itself, which the choir always stays to hear, and, if the pastor reminds them, most of the congregation as well. Afterward, someone comes up to me with tears in her eyes and thanks me for playing the Widor. Others remember it from their wedding or a loved one's funeral.

It is a real privilege to be an organist on Easter. The choir director wants it to "sound like a cathedral" and of course, it is hard not to just let loose with the torrents of sound and a phalanx of notes, on this most joyous of days, and the climax of the church year. The organ is never louder than the final peroration of the Toccata, a festival shout of Alleluia! The general enthusiasm is quite evident.

Faith has three services on Easter morning. When they are finished their will be Easter dinner (I'm famished, despite meeting my wife in the church kitchen during the 9am sermon for a quick repast of cinnamon rolls and that Easter egg I pilfered on the way out of the house). I started my day at 6am. By 2 I will be horizontal again, as the traditional Easter excitement is followed by the traditional Easter Nap. Later on there is the Traditional Easter Choir Practice by a community choir that doesn't stop rehearsing for anything. On Monday it may seem like I will never rise again. But you organists know how it goes.

Sunday's coming!

Functional church (CCC part 8)

Thank you for bearing with me during our four week "digression." Part of that was indulgent on my part: as I prepare to leave I wanted to tell you something about what makes this church so special. But I think that may have been instructive as well, even in a roundabout way.

Next week we'll get down to the nitty gritty. What are the issues that organists frequently have with their churches that makes them unhappy, and what, if anything, can be done about them? There will be observations and potential plans of action you might undertake to improve the situation in your church.

But part of the time will be spent, not in how to fix problems, but discussing how we react to them. When is discussion useful? What are ways to master the 'soft' answer, the firm but not aggressive stance, or is it necessary to be confrontational? Or should you just leave and go somewhere else?

Since I am not a bridge-burning kind of individual, I will rarely counsel anyone to just leave a situation without trying to work things out. But there is one area in which it seems to me that the answer to a serious problem, or a plethora of serious problems, may be to do just that. And that is the reason for our slow buildup.

The answer has to do more with the staff around you. And the church as a whole. There is really no situation on earth where an artistically inclined person can 'just be an artist,' just live for the music, or high standards, or their own education, or whatever. That never happens entirely. Beethoven had to manage to sell something to feed himself, so he couldn't exist entirely by writing Symphonies and Sonatas, even though he had rich patrons.

And when you are talking about the church, that is even more true. Most of the people around you will have different aims than you. If you have families, they will want to find something that their kids think is fun, which is not likely to include listening to Bach. If you have older people, they will have their own set ideas about what they enjoy. Most of them are not likely to be great fans of organ music, or piano music, particularly if you are more advanced in technique and taste than most of your congregation. There is a great potential for a genuine mismatch. And, since the enlightenment, many musicians have stopped working in the church altogether because they either do not feel that they are welcome to do what they do well, or because they don't believe in the mission of the church. It has not been an amicable divorce.

Organists, as in so many other things, are in a unique situation. Most organs are physically housed in churches, making almost impossible to avoid playing in church if that is your instrument, like it or not. Churches come in a great deal of variety, depending on the size, location, denominational practices, and character of an individual congregation. Some of them will welcome, even demand, great organ music, some will put up with it, some will resist. Some will prefer everything to be quaintly old fashioned, others will try to be modern. Some people will love what you do, others will try to get you to do things that you either do not want to do or do not even know how to do. And that assumes they are even able to adequately communicate their intentions. Or whether they simply assume what they like is what is right and should be self evident.

When I came to Faith church a decade ago, there were things that I did not feel happy with. These have changed over time, much for the better, which is one big reason I am writing this series. But before you make the determination to stay and try to change something about the church, one question needs to be answered. Is this a functional church?

Does the staff quarrel or get along? Do people protect their own turf or try to solve problems as they inevitably arise? Are people willing to work around unexpected obstacles so that other persons ministries can be encouraged? Are the solutions both/and or either/or? Does someone in leadership see your role as getting in the way of something they are trying to do, and why? Is compromise possible, or not?

There are churches that get into huge fights over small things. One of the stereotypical items is the color of the carpet. We changed ours a couple of years ago, and nobody raised a peep. Another big one is a fight over the style of worship. That has affected Faith, more in its past than in its present. Hardly anyone can escape that skirmish. But as diverse as Faith is in many ways, it continues to function, and, while some of its members engage in long or short-running feuds with other members or their pastors, most of the time, most of the people some reasonably happy, and most the the time Faith is an active place, in worship, in missions, in outreach, and in the community. It's something worth noting about your church, because not only does it go to the value of things that are larger than you and your issues, but it is also worth noting the practicality of trying to slowly, subtly change the views and appreciations of your congregation, and in some cases, make room for something that nobody thought they really needed before, but someday, will wonder how they ever got along without it.

The pastors and I (CCC part 7)

This is the 7th part in a very long series that runs on Fridays for organists about constructive ways to deal with issues between you and your church. I'm off on what appears to be a four-week tangent in which I brag about our staff members, but I promise this is the last time I do that for a while. Next week we get to the issues themselves.

When they're not trying to blow up or burn down the church* to make a point about miracles to the children of the church, Faith's two new pastors do a bang up job.

They're enthusiastic, hard working, and even listen well. Sometimes, I'm sure, they get an earful from members of the congregation. It can't be easy dealing with that many people in a position of leadership. And we are a pretty easy going congregation, relatively speaking.

And, like the other folks I've mentioned in past weeks, they are very supportive of their organist, and everyone else.

Actually, most of the pastors I've worked with have been supportive, and not too controlling about what their organist plays for the morning offertory, or how he plays the hymns, or what instruments he uses when--perhaps they've all learned, the easy way or the hard way, that as long as someone is doing their job with devotion and passion it is just as well to leave them to do it as they wish without much interference. This is not, of course, the same thing as having no collaboration or input, but then, most pastors have noticed that what I choose to play is usually tied to the sermon and the hymns, and I imagine that since they realize they are getting support from me, it is natural to return it. Just a thought.

It is also a reflection of a management style. In a church our size, not enormous, but with around 400 worshipers a Sunday, and an unusually large number of people involved in ministries and missions around the church, a collaborative spirit helps set the tone for a place in which many people are able to use their gifts and ideas to make things happen. You'd have to be here to experience it all, and fortunately, when the new pastors arrived in July, they spent a good deal of time listening to what made this church run rather than diving in to fix things that were not broken. However, the time comes when a new leader leads, and having been here for several months, Shane and Sheryl and putting their stamp on the church as well.

Sheryl, our lead pastor, regularly preaches the two largest services, with their different styles and worship spaces. This helps to unify a church that has sometimes threatened to pull apart. Our associate, Shane, preaches the two other services, though occasionally they will switch services for a weekend or preach all the services when the other is away. Frequently referencing each other in sermons so that one is constantly reminded we have a pastoral team rather than just two individuals, they also praise other worship leaders often and speak well of lay leaders in our congregation. And, of course, they go to lunch with the rest of the staff on Tuesdays after our meeting, which is, obviously, for the sole purpose of being able to go to lunch afterward and feel like we've earned it. I think a 90 minute meeting is worth some buffalo wings, don't you?


---
*I'm referring here to two "magic" tricks that had startling results, but, no harm was done and the incidents were pretty funny, as most of those things afterward!

Charmian and I (CCC part 6)

The parenthetical acronym in the title refers to the larger series within which this is an installment. That is "For Organists: changing the culture at your church, part six." I am off on an apparent tangent wherein I praise my colleagues at Faith UMC. Be patient; not only is it deserved, it will make sense to you later on. More sense. Some of it should be clicking already!

I don't relish job auditions normally. I imagine most people don't. But this one was different.

I was asked to play a standard hymn, which I could have done with my eyes closed (having difficultly with the requirements of the audition is not the issue). I was asked to improvise an interlude leading into the last verse, modulating to a new key. I did that. And as the last verse began, the choir director began to conduct, broadening the tempo. I followed. Next she happily announced to everyone in the room, "he takes direction well."  Thank God for Charmian!

It was my first encounter with Charmian Bulley, the choir director at Faith United Methodist Church, and it was a pretty good indicator. I've known her for over a decade now, and she is a very supportive colleague.

During that interview, she said a number of positive things about me, and once I was hired, that continued. When I was at my church in Baltimore, I had been the choir director and organist. Here at Faith, the position was split. Not having to wave my arms from across the chancel was helpful, but it also felt a bit like a demotion, since the folks who plan and who work with groups of people tend to form the "administrative" end--in other words, I basically lost the "director" title. (During a recent staff meeting, talking about my position, which may not to be filled in a few months, I described myself as the 'assistant to the everybody!' since I also work with the "contemporary worship director" but am not him either...) But here is something important to note about Faith. Technically there is a hierarchy, just as in any church. But like Doug and I, Charmian and I are really a team. We've got our areas, but ideas are welcome, and nobody gets treated like a subordinate.

A few months into my tenure, during Advent, I had an idea. I wanted to play a series of chorale preludes based on a particular advent hymn, one that we Methodists don't regularly sing. I wondered whether the men of the choir could sing the chant before the organ prelude, and the second week, the whole choir sing the chorale it became next. This would require taking some time out of choir practice. Now I had, of course, been attentive to our director all along--she runs rehearsals, chooses hymns, and comes up with many creative ideas for worship which I support--but here was a situation when I asked for something of her, and she was quite willing to do it. In other words, this was not a one-way street! That early situation stands for a number of other things she has been willing to do since, and of course, I hope I am returning the favor by helping her to make the choir sound good and lead effective worship.

Charmian is extremely patient. She works with a large group of volunteers, after all, and while they sing well and show up every week, some of them have occasional difficulty paying attention. If you've ever been the choir director and had this happen to you, you too should be up for sainthood: you want to begin at a particular measure on a particular page. You try to talk over the din about 5 times. A few tenors keep talking. You finally raise your hands to start the section and somebody asks very irritated, "where are we starting?!?" in the kind of voice that has the underlying tone of "hey, stupid, why didn't you tell us where you wanted to start before you raised your arms?" and of course you just did, over and over, and the person being snotty with you was talking over it. You aren't feeling very "Christian" at that point!

I didn't want to give the impression that every moment at Faith was beautiful. People are people, after all, and everything doesn't always go swimmingly. Sometimes the dumb organist can't find his music, either! She's always got extra copies.

Charmian is a lover of organ music, too. She sometimes asks that is "sound like a cathedral" on high holy days and enjoys me improvisations on hymns. It is always nice to have someone who appreciates the classical organ literature--most churches have very few of these folks, even though at Faith most people enjoy my offerings in general, but outside the Widor Toccata don't know much about the music I'm drawing from. Over the years she has made a few suggestions to me, just as I occasionally suggest hymns. Charmian has a few favorites, including the one I'm going to conclude with, which I most recently played last year when she had health issues, for aural support.
It's the

Prelude on "Rhosymedre" by Ralph Vaughan Williams, and it is "lovely."

Doug and I (CCC part 5)

Doug Abbott is the Director of Church Administration at Faith. And believe me, I get a large charge out of the fact that the guy who runs the church is named Abbott. Hang around us for a a little, though, and you'll notice that Faith is no monastery.

Doug was also a florist before he came to Faith full time. Which means this little meme that was going around the internet applies particularly to him:

Only you can prevent Florist Friars

:chuckle:

Doug doesn't mind a little humor at his expense--in fact, since our Associate Pastor left, he's hardly ever the butt of age jokes anymore. He used to get them every week. I'll bet he misses them (and he had some pretty good rebuttals).

But that's neither here nor there.

Doug runs a pretty tight ship, and it is a pretty complex ship to run. Faith is probably the only church in town which not only has four services, but is successful at different worship styles. Naturally this tends to produce worship wars, and Faith has in the past succumbed. But with time and effort, the church has managed to stay united. Given that I was hired as organist in the traditional services, I could be awfully partisan. In fact (I'm going to sound like Paul, here): I have more reason to be. When I was first hired, the pastor who ran the "contemporary" service refused to hire me to play with the band, even though I was quite able and willing to do it. But because it was the "traditional" pastor's idea to hire me, he wasn't interested. So, sight unseen (he was on vacation when I auditioned) I lost that portion of my income as well as a chance to play for all of the services. Eventually, after the fellow they hired moved away, some four years later, I was hired for the band as well. The benefits of being a part of the entire worshiping body each week are great.

Since I'm writing to organists, I realized the term "praise band" might be like a red flag to a bull. We'll get into that later. Just remember that feuds can have consequences.

Doug, in addition to his administrative job, is the coordinator of "Fusion"--our "contemporary" worship service. But as the guy in charge of the finances (along with our treasurer) he doesn't show favoritism. The worship spaces have both gotten new things in past years. In the "traditional" sanctuary, new carpet and a major pipe organ refurbishment are just some of the things that show that all parts of the church are important to him. This sets an important tone from our leadership, which of course includes our new pastors, that we are a united but diverse body of Christ, and that everybody's ministry is important. Of course, sometimes he has to get a little tough with vendors who don't do their jobs properly. That's when he takes off his glasses. Believe me, you don't want to be around when that happens!

Generally, though, Doug is a fun and genial guy. I spend some time in his office choosing music for the "Fusion" service, then rehearsing it with the band on Thursday nights. We hang after staff meetings--that's when most of the staff goes to lunch. He pops his head into my "office" sometimes to check about something. And he must sigh internally when I come to see him about the latest thing I've noticed that looks fishy about the building, but he rarely lets on and is his cool and collected self (he did seem a little concerned when the ceiling tiles in the sanctuary fell a couple of Easters ago!). Whenever there is a problem, we go see Doug about it. And if something sets off the alarm at 3 in the morning--well, he doesn't get a lot of sleep that night. Despite which, he manages to have a sense of humor. I know because he sometimes laughs at my jokes, which is the best way to tell, naturally.

Doug has also been videographer for my organ recitals, so if and when I get around to posting some of those, you'll have him to thank. The people of Faith have a number of things to thank him for, as well. Although the pastors are the church bosses, due to an appointment system they move around from time to time, even though ours are usually in place for a decade or more. I have no idea how many years Doug's been around, but he's provided stability and leadership for this church for a long time.

Janelle and I (CCC part 4)

This is the fourth part in the series "for organists: changing the culture at your church." I've already outlined several complaints organists typically have with their churches, talked about what a lonely position an organist can find themselves in, and complained about some of the things that happened to me when I first came to my current church. Now it is time to discuss ways to deal with some of those issues. The first of these issues was generally being ignored/forgotten about in the crush of church business, and the answer to that will be in forming relationships with the rest of the staff. This also gives me a chance to brag about the staff at Faith UMC, who I will really miss in a few months.

This is Janelle Keltgen, our Office Manager. She's been on the staff since 2008, so when I complained in the last post about being left out of the bulletin years ago that wasn't her fault!

In fact, it's pretty unlikely that would happen today. If Janelle has to print the bulletin early, she sends an email to everybody who needs to know that, besides warning us at the staff meeting. And when it comes to issues around weddings and funerals, or double booking the organist, I know she's got my back. If I wasn't able to attend a meeting and a decision that might require me to be in two places at once were being made now, I'm sure she'd be one to say "but what about Michael?"

Over the years, she has even indulged some strange requests from her organist. Once she even helped me with the pre-recorded half of an organ duet I was playing on Sunday, by playing a note I couldn't get to because of the wide reach. Few congregants are aware that one of the notes of the opening voluntary that week was played by our office manager. She had a sense of humor about it.

On practice breaks I frequently visit the office to steal candy from the jar, or to catch up on the latest at Faith--you never know when one of the stories that makes life strange and interesting may break out--and sometimes she even visits me in my office, the sanctuary. But our best time together is Thursday mornings.

Thursday is bulletin day. Some years ago I started coming in to help her with the bulletin. I was a little worried about it at first, thinking she might interpret that as my thinking she couldn't do a good job on her own and needed somebody to look over her shoulder to get it right. But that's not the case.

Church bulletin are pretty complicated creatures. True, it doesn't hurt to have somebody else proofread any document so some crazy error doesn't sneak in. Proofreading your own work can be tricky unless you leave enough time to come back to it after a period of being away from your work--which is exactly what you can't do here because she has to put it together the same morning she gets all the information from all of us. And that's the next problem. When errors do creep in, it might not be the fault of the person putting it together. Suppose the choir director wrote in the wrong number for the hymn (we usually look those up now to double check) or wrote something illegible. Suppose the organist spelled the opening voluntary wrong (what a dummy!). Suppose some minor change in the procedure for that week's service occurred that even someone who regularly attended that service wouldn't notice, but maybe the worship leaders would. Or one of the pastors changed the scripture reading and put it in the email but not in the other email. In other words, we are all prone to make mistakes. An extra pair of eyes and ears is just a better defense. Maybe I'll catch something.

And that's just a normal week. Some weeks the bulletin gets really complicated. There have been times when, just to make sure I've heard correctly from the choir director, or the creative worship team who meeting I was at last week, or the pastor, we end up having a conference call to make sure something is right. Like the week I noticed we were going to light the advent candles before the presentation (bringing in) of the wreath (which went around the candles), which I am pretty sure would have been dangerous! There are several of us who coordinate our efforts to make worship happen each week at Faith, and making sure we are all on the same page is an all-out effort for each of us.

Janelle and I kid around about how pleased I am to find a mistake in the bulletin so I can use the red pen (which she usually doesn't let me have anymore) or how depressed I get when I can't find a nit-picky mistake like a rogue period .   Like that one. Did you notice the extra space?  I must make far more of those errors than she does, and you better believe if there are any typos in this blog I'll hear about it!

Janelle is also a friend, and a fan of the band I'm in with a few church members and other friends. I think she led the cheering section down front when we played at the Krannert Center last week. We'll all really miss her when she leaves.

Ok, now I'm bummed out. Hey, Janelle, want to cheer me up with some more of those goat videos?

for organists -- Changing the culture at your church (part three)

When I joined the staff at Faith church in 2005, I became part of one of the hardest working, most enjoyable group of folks you will find in a church, or anyplace else. It did, however, become evident that they were used to thinking of the organist in the manner in which churches often think (or don't think) of such a position.

It isn't that anybody was mean about it. This also was obvious from the beginning. Nobody was trying to shun me or box me out of anything. It's just that, if you are an organist in a church in many many churches, there is a pretty good chance that you simply don't enter into the consciousness of the other staff members. You are just there. On Sunday.

As I mentioned last time, this can manifest itself in a variety of ways, usually not good. Some of these things are small. That first year we had a "ministry fair" with tables and displays. One of them listed the music staff at the church--everyone except the organist. I mentioned this to the choir director, and she got a magic marker and added me. Problem solved. Later, when we got a new music office, I also asked to be listed along on the door so people would know that that was also my office.

Forgetting to mention the organist is not unusual in churches. I can't tell you how many times over the years I've had some reason to want to get in touch with an organist from another church and find that the church website or bulletin doesn't list an organist. Dear churches: please list your organist! Someone might be trying to contact them (or just be curious). I don't mean put their name in lights or rechristen your church the First Church of [insert name of organist], I just mean, along with everyone else, mention that they have a role, too.

Getting left off a list is not the end of the world. But sometimes people can make decisions that affect your job, in absentia. In those first years, our office assistant would sometimes print the church bulletin a day early and, having informed the choir director (who chose the hymns and anthems) forget to mention that to me. When I came in a day later with my selections for the week--oops! Meant to tell you! Well, we can try again next week. Still, there were other times when things got a little dicey. Because the Saturday night service took place in a different sanctuary than the one in which weddings occurred, said office assistant would sometimes reason that it was ok to schedule weddings at the same time. The problem there was I had just been double booked. The same thing nearly happened once when two worship services in different sanctuaries were also going to be scheduled simultaneously. The staff discussed the potential noise problem (the two facilities are across the hall from each other and it was feared noise from one would leak into the other space) and concluded that there would not be a problem. I read this in the minutes from the staff meeting that I had been unable to attend and quickly realized that not being physically present meant that it had not occurred to anybody that they were thinking of having me play two services at once. (I'm pretty good, but sheesh!)

I can grin about it now. In fact, while this may seem like a list of grievances, I'm really typing this with a smile on my face. First, because I know they meant well, and second, because the situation today at Faith church is very different than what it was then. I know none of those things would happen today. How did the change come about? Gradually, to be sure. And in a lot of wonderful ways I'll explore next time. But the short answer is relationships.

for organists -- Changing the culture at your church (part two)

So what's it like being an organist? That's probably a question few people even think to ask. And the answer is, it's different. How different? Consider this illustration.

The congregation is singing a hymn. Everybody in the building who is able is standing.

The organist is sitting.

Everybody is singing,

The organist is playing an instrument.

Most of the people are bunched up together facing the same direction.

The organist is off in a corner somewhere, unseen. (note: in our church, the organ is on the opposite side of the chancel from the choir so I don't even sit with them) Sometimes the organist has a balcony all to themselves, or a chancel area, or is off to the side someplace.

The people, if they know the hymn and are willing, are making a fairly healthy noise between all of them.

The organist could drown the entire congregation with the touch of a button.

And that's just during a hymn! The organist is certainly a specialized position, like a goal keeper in soccer (futbol!). He or she may even be wearing a unique uniform to make the distinction evident (I ditched my robe years ago because it made it really hard to get around and nobody complained).

These are all relatively small distinction, really. But if an extraterrestrial were suddenly to be dropped into a church service, these might be the first signs that the organist was unusual. The reality is that these difference continue into the daily life and functions of the organist in ways that aren't so visually obvious.

At my church, everyone has offices down at the south end of the building. But the sanctuary, where I spend most of my time, is at the other end of the building! I soon learned that if I didn't take a walk down to the south end of the building every day during a practice break, my colleagues would never see me! And I would probably not learn a lot of what was going on in the church because it was often done via face to face meetings in the hallway, or just by walking into someone's office to have a chat.

I also have a desk, but am not at it very much, unlike the rest of the staff (except the custodians). My hours are somewhat similar, but only because I like to prepare during the daylight hours. My rehearsals and services are on evenings and weekends. There is some overlap with the rest of our dedicated staff on that one--not everyone works 9 to 5 weekdays, or does so exclusively. But organists can have schedules that virtually preclude face to face meetings with their colleagues. We'll have to discuss ways to overcome that, because the consequences of this kind of built-in invisibility are not generally good.

for organists -- Changing the culture at your church (part one)

In visiting "the cave of the organists" recently, which is my pet name for an internet forum where organists gather to discuss organ music and church playing--and to complain about their current employment situations--it stuck me that we ought to discuss in this space some of the things that cause friction between organists and their congregations, with the possible end of being able to do something positive about them. Keep in mind that while the present series will be written from the point of view of an organist relating to his or her congregation that some of the changes to be made might be in the behavior or skills of the organist themselves; this might in the long run be easier than trying to convince others of the need for a change, though that will certainly form a large part of our programme as well.

If you are not an organist, and you have no idea why some of us are unhappy, as we go along I'll provide you with some (discreet) examples from the organ playing community. I hope you don't mind having yours eyes opened.

In a relationship in which one of the partners has a complaint, the first stage is entirely one-sided. That is, the party who is the complainee is completely unaware that the complainer is unhappy. The second stage, once the unease has been brought to the attention of the first party, consists of denial and justification: namely, the person or persons causing the unhappiness telling the other person that they shouldn't feel that way at all and that it is all their fault anyhow, etc. Large social movements also follow this pattern. If an organist brings some of their complaints to your attention, it would be of great help if you might show yourself superior to a majority of your fellow human beings and skip step two, considering whether these claims might be legitimate, or at least that the feelings behind them are real--in other words, take them seriously. That is what this blog is for.


Church organists usually have some or all of these various complaints:

---nobody listens to the prelude or postlude
---they are in musical disagreement with their pastor or congregation regarding their selections
---they are paid badly
---they are not informed about items that affect their jobs or the worship service with enough time to plan accordingly
---they are often complained about by the congregation and/or the pastor

Basically, these items all reduce to being treated poorly or ignored. This shouldn't sound like anything bizarre. Everyone wants to feel valued and, extrovert or not, at least feel like people are noticing their efforts. At the same time, of course, the church may feel that the organist is not performing up to expectations, which will complicate things somewhat, since we may have a two-way grievance. I'm going to mainly address the ones that the organist has about their situation until we get to the last one; however, organists will note that many of the others might involve changes of behavior on their parts also.

I want also to state that there is no magic formula here. I will be writing from my own experiences, some of which have been successful, either because of my own behavior or my own dumb luck. But I am aware that situations can differ greatly, so that what follows will be mainly several observations about the most common sticking points and some suggestions for what might be done in the several situations.

The woods are filled with unfortunate situations between organists and congregations. Actually, there are probably many amicable situations that we simply don't here about, and perhaps shouldn't exaggerate the unhappiness out there; as in most areas in life one tends to here about the conflicts. But in the United States, the American Guild of Organists is often called to arbitrate disputes between organists and their employers, or, as I've mentioned, the disgruntled organists go online with their fellows to commiserate about a situation they feel only their colleagues would be able to understand.

Let those who are not organists give such sympathy a try as well.

(next week: what's it like being an organist, anyhow?)

Return of the Shepherds

It's a year later and the shepherds are back on the hillside, tending their sheep. Last year I wrote them a nice ten part series having to do with pastorales, musical representations of the bucolic countryside and their own romantic, if smelly and dangerous, occupation. Twelve months later, they are still doing their thing. Same shepherds, same sheep.

Is that the same hill? Man is this a low budget production. I knew I kept seeing the same rocks over and over.

There they stand, subaltern as ever, keeping watch over their flocks by day and night. And we've got another way to let them appear as unpaid extras in our Christmas story. It's a nice, traditional, German carol. The words, translated, go like this:

While by the sheep, we watched at night.
Glad tidings brought and angel bright.
How great our joy! (Great our joy!)
Joy, joy, joy! (Joy, joy, joy!)
Praise we the Lord in heaven on high!
(Praise we the Lord in heaven on high!)

In case you were wondering about how that goes in German, it runs thusly:

Als ich bei meinen Schafen wacht
Ein Engel mir die Botschaft bracht.
Des bin ich froh, (bin ich froh)
Froh, froh, froh, (o, o, o)
|: Benedicamus Domino. :|

German and Latin, actually.

Since the acoustics of the hills are quite reverberent, this carol has become known alternately as "the echo carol" (besides being called "While By the Sheep" and "How Great our Joy")--I was stupid enough to type it first as "While By our sheep" but of course the shepherds don't own the sheep; they are there to look after somebody else's. Probably a big sheep conglamerate.

Anyhow, we can leave them alone now that we've had our look, and listen to this nice carol, which I've set for organ. If anybody wants the score I can send it to you--it's a bit more challenging than last Friday's selection, though there is no improvisation required.

Enjoy!

While By the Sheep
----------------------------


Last year's shepherd series can be found nicely indexed on the blog--just scroll down until you find it in the right hand column.

Don't forget, the pianonoise.com homepage now has two-and-a-half hours of Christmas music for piano and organ for your listening pleasure. It will be up through Epiphany.

Music for Gaudete Sunday

This Sunday is "Gaudete" Sunday in the Roman Catholic church. If, like me, you weren't aware of this until recently (perhaps as recently as the reading of this blog), it might be because:

a) you are Protestant
b) you are Orthodox
c) you are Catholic but not very observant (that can be taken a few different ways)
d) you are anybody who hasn't gone to mass during Advent, including persons of different religious persuasions who really weren't planning to do so to begin with!
e) you are a tree sloth in Armenia

Does that cover everybody?

Many Protestants do not practice a very complex church year. In this "low church" model, There is Christmas, and there is Easter, and then there is practically everything else. On the other end of the scale, which tends to be the practice of Anglicans and Catholics, every Sunday has its own name, its own function, its own feast, etc. Being Methodist means our church tends toward the low end of the scale, but with occasional pastoral nods toward more church events like Ascension Sunday and Trinity Sunday. And then, they have an organist who finds history interesting, as well as having a natural curiosity about the customs of others. But the occasional liturgical accident sometimes helps, too.

Advent, as practiced by the church, is a period of waiting. It is also a period of penitence and more somber observance. Sound like Lent? It is, actually. And here is what I've found interesting. Making people wait and watch, reflect and wait, is pretty counter cultural. It takes a discipline that you wouldn't expect to find in 21st century American society. I can't speak for Europe, but I imagine it's a little out of place there, too. Waiting for things is not in a capitalist's vocabulary. Nobody tells you not to come into their store right away for the best deals of the millenium happening RIGHT NOW!

But waiting patiently and penitently appears to have been considered somewhat burdensome many centuries ago, too. Suppressing some of the most joyful parts of the mass, doing without pleasures like the playing of the organ--apparently it was too much for too long. So, just as in Lent, a little more than halfway through, the church lightens those burdens for a week, allows some of these things back into the mass, and we have a Sunday of rejoicing. Gaudete! Rejoice!

Where it gets more interesting is that the series our pastors are using to preach on (courtesy of a major Methodist website), using themes from the four advent candles, just happens to line up with this older tradition. In fact, I learned about it while trying to figure out which order those pesky advents candles were supposed to go in. Four Sundays in Advent, and four candles. Is it hope, joy, peace love? Love, joy, hope, peace? Joy, peace, hope, peace again? argh.

Short answer: there isn't an "official" order. I assumed if anybody had nailed this down, it would be the Catholic church. And they haven't. But the third candle is Joy.

Gaudete!

I mentioned this to our choir director, because she had chosen none other than a modern arrangement of the 15th century chant itself for the choir to sing this week. "Gaudete!" for Gaudete Sunday. She thought that was pretty cool, and called it a "God thing" which means she hadn't planned it that way. It just happened. Of course, the curriculum was responsible for getting her part way there. But the choosing of the piece "Gaudete" itself....I can't explain that one.

Since the choir doesn't sing at the 8 am service, I have to have something to play in their slot. I've come up with an organ solo version of "Gaudete." One of the things that I like about the organ is the way it is so many different instruments. A couple of months ago I shared music from my organ concert. Much of it was full-on all-the-stops-out glorious sounding. But this piece is just the opposite. Using my favorite 4-foot flute stop all by itself, the organ sounds like a recorder consort. It is answered by the 8-foot krummhorn alone. Another Reniassancish ensemble sound.

After a few rounds of that, it is time for some verses. But there is no music for verses provided in the 15th century source. It's customary to use another tune from a period source to cover the verses. I had a different idea.

That's why, for organists reading this, I'm providing the score I whipped together at an insane hour last night, and giving you a chance to do what I did. Improvise.

That's right; I didn't provide any music for the verses either!

If you are following the score you'll see how it works, though you can hear it on the recording also. First the flutes play. They are answered by the krummhorns. Then the flutes. Krummhorns. Then an extended solo. Then the krummhorns. Each of the four verses is a spot where I improvised a Medieval sounding solo over a drone accompaniment. It's not so difficult. Basically you use the notes of the scale--we're in A dorian, which is all the white keys except F# instead of F natural. Hold the A down with your left hand and move up and down in expressive and dancelike ecstasy, then change the left hand note to G (right hand continues), then F (natural) and finally E as your solo comes to a close. If you haven't improvised before (and we haven't talked about it yet on this blog) this isn't a bad introduction to the sport.

Each of those solos is answered by the written out krummhorn chorus, which I varied a little at whim, but basically played as written. Then for the final chorus, I doubled the flute stop and the krummhorn by coupling the manuals together for the grand finale.

Non-organists and organists alike: I hope you enjoy the recording. Rejoice!

Gaudete

and for the organists, here is the score.  I'd love to hear your performances, if you are able to record them. They will all be unique, courtesy of a score that calls for your own improvisations as an integral part of the music.

score here

(update: the 12/10 version had some errors in it--haste will do that, unfortunately. The version linked to above is from 12/12 and has been corrected. My apologies)


Enjoy!

More secrets revealed!

 This past Sunday I was on the podcast over at Secrets of Organ Playing talking with its host, Vidas Pinkevicius. It was a wide ranging conversation, dealing with subjects like organ improvisation, what motivates an artist, blogging, organ registration, and so on. The hour was over in a hurry!

The pull quote that Vidas used from the interview, in which I basically said that I reason I do what I do--blogging, teaching, sharing music--was just that I felt compelled to do it, reminded me of a quote I have on my website (on the About page). Most of my pages have quotes on them at the top from some very diverse sources, and this one comes from a tightrope walker named Phillipe Pettit. He was once interviewed by Stephen Colbert, and was asked what made him do what he did. He said:

It’s because I have no choice, and I think a true artist should always have that as an answer. If you know why you paint, well, maybe you’re not driven by painting and waking up and hav[ing] to face the empty canvas. If you don’t know, it’s much better than if you know.

 
We also spent time on the power of storytelling--in music and otherwise. I'm thankful that many of my new readers this week have been telling me their stories. I'm interested in hearing about your interests, too. This blog covers a wide range of topics, from concert preparation and music to various aspects of playing both the piano and the organ. In a couple of weeks I'm going to tackle the topic of improvisation.

You can find the interview [here]. That link will take you to Vidas' soundcloud page which has many other episodes from organists, professors, organ builders, recording engineers--pretty much every aspect of the art and craft of organ playing is covered. And I have to say from listening to several of the other episodes that it puts me in pretty exalted company.

I hope you find it interesting and useful. And if you also have plenty of holiday concerts and rehearsals to play this weekend, good luck and enjoy. And for my European readers, Happy St. Nicholas Day on Sunday (or whenever you celebrate it).

coming soon

Here we go again.

This weekend begins another year in the church calendar. It is time for Advent.

As I've observed before, in American consumerland we are already well into the Christmas season. This is largely because we just can't wait.

I usually spend November trying desperately to fend off Christmas commercials and Christmas music. I love the season. I just don't want to be tired of Sleigh Ride before the leaves even fall off the trees. Last year I heard "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" six times before Thanksgiving, and that was just by going to the grocery store once a week. If we had television I'd have to wear out the batteries on the remote control just hitting the mute button (and hiding my eyes) every time a Christmas commercial came on. I don't want to be so sick of the holiday that by the 25th of December I just desperately want it to go away--yet that seems to be the feeling of people around me. Christmas starts after Halloween and goes on and on and on and on....

Which is the price of gluttony, I suppose. You get tired of it.

I'm not Catholic, but I admire their approach to the season. Advent is a season of waiting. It is not a feast, it is a fast. It is a time of discipline, even a time of scarcity before the feast. Then, at the appointed time, jubilation, celebration, rejoicing, for the entire 12 day period from December 25th to January 6th. If only society knew how to wait....

Salespeople don't want us to wait, obviously. They want us to HURRY HURRY HURRY to get the lastest bargain. And they are listening to the people who want to shop till they drop, not to the ones who won't go to the mall until the middle of December.

The church, by contrast, often seems to want to put the brakes on. They are the most conservative element in society. They shun innovation, serve as a collective for people who oppose change, and look suspiciously on the rights of individuals, which is to say they aren't very progressive. At the same time, they stand for virtue and discipline, continuity and respect. Sometimes the church seems like the weary adult in a world of four-year-olds. And it seems about all they can do sometimes is look on judgmentally as the kids tear into all their Christmas presents in 30 seconds in a frenzy of gratification, and then have a meltdown five minutes later because they are out of stuff to open and they can't handle all the surging emotions.

Pace yourselves. The joy will come. The feast will arrive. Prepare yourselves for it. Don't just revel in every good thing you can find--share it. Live inside it. Don't expect it to make you delirious. Happiness isn't a mind altering drug. It is a state of being.

Does it seem curmudgeonly to all the societal kids? Of course it does. Sometimes it even feels like it. But behind it all is a joy that those kids will never understand. Unless you wait for it. It will come.

Authorized fire?

I figured if I looked hard enough I could find it. But not yet.

Somewhere in the Old Testament I am pretty sure there is a passage which describes a man who brings an offering to the Lord. And not just any offering, but an animal he has raised himself from birth. The kind of home-made, time-intensive, give of yourself kind of offering you would think God would prefer over the sort of I'll-just-pay-for-this-one-over-here ready made kind that didn't take much time or thought. But it's just the opposite. God rejects the offering because it didn't come from within the temple. Apparently you weren't allowed to bring your own animals into the temple long before you couldn't bring your own food into the stadium.

Am I remembering that right?

When I tried to look up the reference I was beset with a number of contradictory references to offerings. Many of them were indeed concerned with when and where; stern reminders abounded that God would punish persons who failed to make the appropriate offering at the appointed time; one rival Israelite tribe managed to avoid internecine strife (ie., slaughter) by agreeing not to use a competing place of offering so that the one in Jerusalem could remain the only legitimate one.

Then of course there are the prophets who question whether burnt sacrifices are necessary at all; maybe God would much rather we behave ourselves for a change, or show mercy to others rather than wiping them out because they aren't doing things to our liking.

But those are the prophets. The priests, who control the church, also control the sacrifices. And there are rules. Oh there are rules. Aaron's own sons got killed, not because they didn't offer anything to God, but because they did it with unauthorized fire. Whatever that means--probably they did it on their own without consulting the proper chain of command. Throughout the Bible, and throughout the history of the church as well, there is a definite anxiety to make sure that the authorities have control over the rites of the offering. As David Plotz observes in "Good Book," the Bible clearly comes down on the side of the minority control of religion. When the Korahites want to know why everybody can't be priests, why Moses gets to be in charge, they are put in their place (killed).

And for the last 2000 years the Catholic Church has taught that there is "no salvation outside the church." Martin Luther notwithstanding. Especially him! And if you thought that spiritual copyright claim had lapsed with time and a little ecumenical understanding, recall that a few Advents ago, when the church changed the Mass a little (horror!) they made clear that the passage "peace to men of good will" meant you had to be Catholic to be of good will.

And on it goes. Protestants have plenty of strict regulations too, much of the time, and often will find ways to assert that you have to be a member of their particular brand or it doesn't count: you aren't saved. The very word religion means "to bind" and it doesn't really matter if that concept bothered Jesus not a little; we do it in His name anyhow.

I bring all this up because I think it might be the solution to the mystery I posed in the bulletin last week as I played an offertory by Francois Couperin. His "Mass for the Parishes" is one of only two large organ masses he wrote, but he is still regarded as a major composer for the organ. I've been working my way through this little epic. It is patterned like other French organ masses of the period. I suspect that is because, in order for it to be used in the mass at all, it had to follow the stipulations of the church at that time and place.

The organ portion of the mass here has five kyries, nine glorias, nothing at all from the credo, one offertory, a couple of sanctus verses, two from the agnus dei, a benedictus a deo gratias (thanks be to God).

The only piece that seems to get regular play from organists is the offertory. And, strangely, that is the longest piece in the mass. I mentioned that in my notes to the congregation. Since it was stewardship Sunday this seemed like a good time to emphasize the offertory. The pastor joked afterward that we could have passed the plates twice!

But why is the offertory the longest piece in the set? In the mass, it is the credo that is by far the longest; a thorough statement of beliefs that many composers have made much music over (not always the best music) and which often stretches to incredible lengths, particularly if you make an entire piece out of each clause.

And yet, in Couperin's mass, the organ is silent. This is apparently because the organ was not permitted to alternate with the sung portions of the mass here. In other sections of the mass it gave the chanters a break to breathe, to meditate, and the organist could provide contrast and majesty of a more voluminous kind to balance the serenity (or boredom) of unrelieved plainchant.

And then, just as the Gloria is suppressed during Advent, or the Alleluia during Lent, the organ is released from its 'season of penance' and given a chance to speak fully during the offertory. Apparently, this is why Couperin lavished the bulk of his art on this part of the mass. Because he was allowed. It was authorized.

It took me a bit of online searching to find anybody who wanted to take up this question. Most organists just play the piece because it is a great piece and don't wonder about things like this, and I don't know the musicological literature well enough. But I did ask. And, fortunately, my offering last week in church was authorized. I am lucky to have supportive pastors who did not assume I am trying merely to show off by playing a long offertory. Besides, I'm not sure my congregation enjoyed it as much as I did anyhow--which is just as well. Some weeks I would prefer not to have everyone speak well of me (but that's another biblical reference for another time).

I can imagine a lot of religious traditions where what Couperin wrote would not be welcome. A French overture, concluding with a gigue, in a church! Too dancelike, or too grave, or both! And too French! We all seem to have rules--preferences that we often ascribe to the Divine--for what is and is not authorized as an offering. And then we often say the best gift is ourselves, but as we've seen, often that falls afoul of religious regulation as well. Our species has a long history of that--rejecting each other's offerings, often claiming that God has rejected them, too. I wonder what He thinks of Mr. Couperin.

I mentioned that Couperin only wrote two masses, one for the parish churches, and one for the convents. Both of these were published when he was twenty. He doesn't seem to have had much interest in religious music after that, at least for the organ. Do you suppose it was all those rules? Or was religious music just not fashionable enough to sustain Mr. Couperin's interest? I'll have to do some reading. In any case, he was organist for 55 years, and never published another piece of religious music for organ. Hmmm.


Couperin: Mass for the Parishes -- Offertory 

Enjoy!

Back to the Organ

Wednesday was Back to the Future day. In case you missed it, October 21st 2015 was the day that Doc Brown and Marty McFly, the heroes of the 1980s franchise "Back to the Future" movies, having travelled 30 years into the future, arrived to straighten out and inevitably cause more trouble by messing with the space-time continuum. People have been having fun seeing whether the movie accurately predicted what life would be like thirty years into the future. Cubs fans took heart that they were supposed to have won a World Series, even though with the expanded post season it would have been impossible to win it all by the 21st of October (the World Series won't have even started by then). And "Jaws 19" is, alas, not playing in theaters.

[by the way, reality hurts, doesn't it? The Cubs spent the time during Doc and Marty's adventure getting bounced out of the playoffs in 4 games. Next year....again.]

But I would like to take a trip in the other direction, back to 1985, because October 20 of that year just happens to be an anniversary of mine, so if Doc and Marty could just hold the DeLorean for a minute or two I may just hop in...



There is a gangly teenager sitting at the organ console in a little white church with a steeple in a rural suburb. He can barely reach the pedals, and you can see the concern on his face. His mother is seated halfway back on the same side as the organ, giving signals: up for make it louder, down for make it softer. For some reason there is concern he will play the organ too loudly. His mother has offered this sage advice for hymn playing: "Slow down and make your breaks." Apparently these people need to be able to breathe between the phrases of a hymn.

The young lad (that's what they called us back then, if I recall) labors away. After the service he seems disappointed by his efforts. Apparently there were some extra notes in the mix. So a pastor sits down to write a letter:


October 22, 1985

Dear Andy:

I thought you did an excellent job on Sunday and I'm writing to say so. Many people commented on your playing and it was all good.

I know that you probably heard an mistakes you may have made and you're feeling badly about them. Believe me, you're the only one who heard them.

You're doing a fine job and I appreciate all the work you're doing.

Thank you,
Pastor Seawright


The gig goes on for three more weeks. The regular organist is out having a baby, and there have been some complications (all resolved to the good long ago; that baby just turned 30!). After the month-long debut, the session, the governing body of the local church, writes a letter


November, 1985

The Session of our Church wishes to thank you for playing the organ for worship services these past weeks.

We enjoyed your special music choices and you played so well. We are very proud of you.

you have a wonderful gift, Andy, and we appreciate you sharing your gift with your Church Family!

Love and Blessings,
Mrs. Carol Pittis
in behalf of Session.


Many people are very encouraging of this young lad. Not everyone; this movie has to have a bad guy in it. One of the members thinks that because this is just a teenager he shouldn't be paid the regular amount budgeted for a substitute organist. The boy's mother and several others respond that he is doing the same job as an adult, playing for the entire service and choir rehearsal, so why shouldn't he be paid in full? It's a familiar issue if you are an organist.

Nonetheless, the month goes sailing by, into the vortex of time, full of anxiety and suspense, and also providing the opportunity to learn to have quite a bit of music ready on deadline, and how to handle this strange instrument known as the organ. It's not a pipe organ, and it is fairly small, but there are still a number of buttons, draw knobs, and pedals to handle.

That young man took all of that encouragement and parleyed it into more substitute positions over the next two years; then the organist of the church mentioned to a friend whose church was looking for an organist that there was a young man who could play pretty well. That led to a regular church position at the age of 16, and a few since. I'm on my fourth church now, having spent roughly a decade at both of the last two.

I thank all the people who helped me get my start, including my piano teacher, Ann Meck, who gave me a few organ lessons, and the organist of the Northfield Presbyterian Church, Debbie Langford, who showed me what the numbers on the tabs meant. And, of course, mom, who made sure I didn't rush ahead of the congregation or burst their eardrums. Even though I was a teenage boy, I must have eaten just enough vegetables that I can now reach the pedals. If you are in the neighborhood, you can see me using them next Friday evening at 7.
----
"Scary Organ Recital"
Friday, October 30 at 7 pm
Faith United Methodist Church
1719 North Prospect, Champaign Illinois, 61821

Prayer and Persistence

October 4th was the start of my 11th year as organist of Faith church. How did I celebrate? Some bombastic organ voluntary?

Actually I didn't play anything. At the 10:30 service, since it was World Communion Sunday, the choir director programmed a lively choral opening piece. When she asked about doing it at the start of the service, I said that I had had a failure of imagination this year and hadn't found anything I particularly wanted to play for that Sunday anyway, and it would be interesting to open the service by way of the choir instead of an organ piece for a change. So I got to sit on my hands and listen.

The choir anthem also happened to be unaccompanied, so aside from the hymns I had a pretty light week. As for anniversaries, I've got another one coming up soon anyhow.

That brings us up to last week. Our new pastors have given us a sheet with sermon information--topics and scripture lessons--for the entire semester. Jealous? This, however, does not mean it isn't subject to change.

On Monday, in fact, the lead pastor sent out an email to that effect. Since I am in the middle of preparation for an organ recital, I was rather proud of the fact that I had not only found suitable pieces for the voluntary and offertory, but had managed to record them for my internet audience on Friday. I was well ahead of the game. I felt a little bit like the guy in the parable of Jesus who build bigger barns to store all of his grain and congratulates himself on his success, which is ironic, considering that is the scripture being used at the end of the revised series a few weeks from now. Woe unto him!

The scripture that I had used as a reference for the week's musical selections, however, was now gone completely--not simply moved to another week--so now I have a nicely pre-recorded set of pieces for use some day in another context.

Monday morning, then, consisted of a few minutes of grumbling, several more minutes of scrambling, a sudden moment of inspiration, when I realized that a piece I had practiced and recorded this summer for the topic of prayer (which I had then assumed might be of use some time in January) would furnish a nice opening voluntary. Then I remembered another musical 'prayer' by Cesar Franck and found a Youtube video with such a piece. Within a half hour I had found it on IMSLP and downloaded and printed it; even practiced it once at home on the piano. It is from a collection called L'organist, which contains many short and simple pieces, of which this is one, and required next to no practice. There is another Franck piece called "Prayer" which I had been thinking of, his opus 20, longer and not extremely difficult, but far less simple, but again, I've got a recital to think about, and I did not want to spend very much time on music for church this week until I feel comfortable with the recital program, only three weeks away.

This is life in the church. It is often a scramble, and requires quick preparation. That unfortunately can mean loss of quality, since quantity and quality are often enemies (I still love Arthur Loesser's phrase about one piano composer having "all the fecundity of a low-grade organism"). I have never allowed the weekly need for new music, for topical music, or the working rhythms of collegues to force only music requiring little or no effort (and let's hear it for pastors who put out the week's liturgy and service information no later than Monday, not to mention a blueprint of the entire semester in advance!). There are various ways to keep standards high and survive the inevitable twists and turns and rapid adjustments necessary to serve in a church. It also helps when you've got flexible and communicative colleagues, willing to do what it takes to have an effective service. This week we managed a last minute inclusion of a very effective benediction response by calling an "audible"--there were several quick "team meetings" with everyone concerned and we figured out how and where to put the new piece right before the service began. Those occasions often turn out to be my favorite memories of worship at Faith, how we all came together and unselfishly made something happen that made the worship better. Those are times I can be proud, not of my own efforts, but of everyone around me.

The year in review

It is time for me to do my annual report on what I've been feeding my congregation. This is where I take the selections from my Godmusic page, which represent some of the pieces I have been playing in church all year, and tally them up to see when and where they have all been coming from. I can see whether I've been offering variety or whether I've gotten stuck in one time and place; also, where that might be.

The selections that made the internet don't, of course, represent all of the solo organ or piano music played at the services: the postlude is nearly always improvised, and I don't always post both the prelude and offertory. But of the ones recorded from 2014-15, here are the results.

Temporally, my selections ranged from the 15th to the 21st century. I played a grand total of one from the 15th, two from the 16th, two from the 17th, 20 from the 18th, 12 from the 19th, and 31 from the 20th and 21st centuries.

Nationally Germany won with 26 selections, followed by America with 25. France had 6, England and Croatia 4, and Lithuania 2. There were one each from Spain, Italy, Scotland, Norway, and Russia.

The clump of pieces from Germany in the 18th century isn't odd. That's Bach's time and place. I didn't just play Bach, however. Buxtehude and Walther and Hanff got in there, too. But old J. S. got 9 representations, 4 from the spring semester, all on the piano, only one after January, and 5 organ pieces in the fall semester. Mostly at the beginning, when it was time for the grand unveiling after the refurbishing, and at Christmastime.

Why should it matter where I get my music? And why should I do a periodic inventory? Partly curiosity. But if the world really is our parish, and if the tradition is bigger than we are, it is important not to just park in one corner of the repertoire and stay there. For some organists, it is all Bach all the time. I happen to think very highly of him, and play a healthy supply. But in order not to give the impression that the church is about what happened 300 years ago, or in Germany, I make certain to play other music as well. The 20th and 21st centuries actually led the way in terms of selections, which is not always the case, but it ought to have a pretty important vote since these are times in which we live. I refuse to believe that it is only the present age which matters and that anything old is by definition unimportant, but while we are taking our enormous tradition into account we ought to be cognizant of the voices of our own time in this maelstrom.

Since my primary focus from Sunday to Sunday is on what selections work with the scripture and sermon, the hymns, the season of the year, the mood of the service, and only then might I concern myself with whether I am playing too much German Baroque music and not enough of anything else, this end of the year check gives me an idea of what sort of balance I am keeping or not keeping. Of course, I don't expect complete equality across time and space. Besides, I get passionate about certain areas of the repertoire and don't mind sharing that with my congregation. Next summer the Chorale is going to Spain. Expect a lot more Spanish music to show up in church next season! I haven't played much yet, so it will be a chance to grow and to experience another part of the vast literature of Christenorgandum.


(note: the season doesn't really end until July 5, after which I mostly improvise the selections for a couple of months for regenerative purposes. The tallies above take the remaining selections into account also.)

sleepers, awake?

A lot of Americans probably are hoping to sleep in this weekend. Sometimes it seems as though the church is designed to help.

I've been having a lot of pointed fun lately pointing out the difference between the story of Pentecost and the low tolerance level many of us church folks have for anything that isn't eminently predictable and repetitive. Still, our church's creative team has managed to come up with ways that dramatize the events of this unusual story, and though there have been internal disagreements about how much chaos is a good thing (the choices this year seem to be between very little and considerably less) we have actually taken the congregation out of its routine for the last four or five years now. Now the question is whether that breakout is itself becoming routine.

Back when it looked like this year's disruptiveness was going to be at an all time minimum, I found what might actually turn out to be an effective offertory. It is a piece by Max Reger, a prolific composer who had not had the privilege of a Faith UMC performance during my tenure (or very likely that of any of my predecessors). It is called simply, "Pentecost." (or Pfingsten in German)

Reger's Pentecost is an essay on a standard Pentecost hymn, "Come Holy Spirit." That is, it would be standard if you were Lutheran or lived at least a hundred years ago. We're Methodists in 2015 so the only time the congregation hears this hymn is when I play an organ piece based on it; I wish we could sing it as well. It would help to make it more alive and more immediate, and more experiential.

The piece begins softly, and remains that way for much of its length. But a couple of minutes into the piece some strange stirrings cause the music to rush and to suddenly grow louder. A climactic and awesome, or earsplitting, chord--depending on your appreciation of harmony--ends this wild passage and we return to the depths of quietude, though without the sense of repose we had before.

I have to confess some worries about keeping listener attention at this point. Loud and vigorous are also easier to sell that soft and slow, just as foods with more fat and sugar go over better than those with mere nutrients. I am reminded grotesquely of the beer commercial with the bored audience snoozing through a piece of deathly slow, basement registered "classical" music, until the guy opens the beer and cool rock music breaks out; people start dancing and enjoying themselves.

I wonder--who will notice that as the piece rolls on, something is stirring; at first, ominously, vaguely, then, after the music resets itself to the halcyon opening of the hymn and starts again, it begins to grow in majesty, until, by the end, the organ is blasting out the final phrases, and, if you've fallen asleep (our pastor would say "come back to me to hear this....") you awake to find that, whether in the dark or in secret, the hymn has grown to a mighty statement that can no longer be ignored. The question is will we be looking for it? Helping it to happen? Or ready to hop on board once it is a demonstrable success?

I meant the music--at first. But I see my subject, like Reger's has swollen. It is no longer a hymn to soporificism. It is a hymn of praise. It is the church--triumphant?

Reger: Pentecost (op. 145, no. 6)

The Simple Life

This morning I'll tell you about this fantasy I have. Do we know each other well enough for this? Don't worry, it's rated G. Maybe it should even be rated N for nerd.

I'm on my bicycle, riding to church. I imagine I am a simple man, who lives alone with a cat, is rather old, lives in a little village in Europe, and basically does nothing but play the parish organ on Sundays. The little road from my little house goes directly to the little church. It is very peaceful in the morning. The little church probably has only a dozen or so parishioners. I probably only know 5 hymns. I play the single service; I ride home again. I have lunch. It is probably the same thing every week. Life is very basic. And it is a little like a French art film.

Here is the real story. I live in a town of about 100,000. It is not a major metropolitan area, but it is small enough that at times it can pass for a small town, especially at 6:30 on a Sunday morning. I live only a mile and a half from church. When the whether is fine, from May through October, I often ride my bike to church. So fantasy and reality are not really that separate. And I have a cat. But I am not that old, and I know more than 5 hymns.

When I get to the church, things get a lot more complicated. There are usually about 400 in attendance, and we have three services. I play the organ and the piano at the two traditional services, and we have a praise band for the 9 am service. I play the piano and the keyboard for that one also. From the time I enter the building until I leave four and a half hours later I am basically on the run. It is exhilarating. And challenging. There are a lot of things going on. Good things, mostly. And then, when it is over, my wife and I ride home together, discussing the sermon and the day on the way. It is not a bad routine.

But at 6:30 am, all you can hear are the birds. And I like that. I am a sucker for solitude, and for silence, particularly when I know it is about to be in short supply. So before the action begins for the day, I contemplate life as if it were a simple thing, which, ultimately, I suppose it is. Why I have to add to that I don't know. Perhaps in the imagining I don't have to prepare for the sudden intrusion of noise and activity into that simple moment; I can pretend it will go on forever.

It is fun to be someone else for a moment, even though, ultimately, I always realize I would much rather be exactly where I am doing exactly what I do. Truth is, I'd be bored at a little parish church playing only 5 hymns and having coffee with only a dozen people every week after only one service. But you know how complex people are; we like to romanticize simplicity, even if we know it's partially advertising.

Anyway, I'd better get my bike fixed so I can ride it next Sunday. The cap on one of the tires went missing. I hope there is a bicycle shop in my little village so I can get it repaired. Otherwise it will be a major catastrophe, and I rarely ever have to deal with those in my routine, halcyon existence.

You can call me Pierre.