It's Not Your House. Show some respect!

     Okay, look, I'm not what one would call a pious, or traditionally religious person.  In fact, the only time I ever regularly attend church is when I'm playing a string of services on the organ, no matter the denomination; as long as I'm able to make music I've pretty much found my spiritual ground of being (to paraphrase Paul Tillich).  So this little diatribe is not about me: it's about the supposed faithful who, knowingly or unknowingly, show little or no respect for their God in church.  I'm referring to the behaviour of these pecksniffs just prior to the "official" service/mass; i. e., before and, especially, during the prelude.  

   It's pretty evident people don't care nowadays.  They simply don't:  either out of ignorance or protrusive self-indulgence.  The time before the service has become a social hour in which the din of conversation sometimes borders on the raucous (depending upon the number of attendees).  So, I wonder, why do I go to the trouble of learning a beautiful, quiet, meditative prelude that, in most cases, I can barely hear myself, much less set a contemplative mood or setting for worship?   It's come to the point where I have found myself in the same position as a more than a few organists in so far as I really don't like practising the organ anymore.  Let's be certain here. This is not a recital. It's not about drawing attention to the organist performing some stunning, difficult piece of music.  It's really not even the music per se.  It's what the music is suppose to do in establishing a peaceful, meditative, spiritual and —most importantly — respectful milieu in what I've always considered to a holy space.  But why bother when the end result is the congregation's apparent floccinaucinihilipilification of the music before service.

   There was a time when churches were deliberately built to have subdued lighting (even the Gothic cathedrals with their long and many windows [albeit brighter than the Romanesque buildings] utilised natural light and still were considerably less obtrusive than most contemporary churches).  Additionally — more so in Roman Catholic and other highly liturgical churches — you were taught or simply knew that you were entering a place of worship.  It was where you left the secular world behind and were entering a sacred space, and therefore behaved accordingly.  Simply put:  IT'S NOT YOUR HOUSE!  And if you don't get that; if you are not predisposed to comport yourself then don't come inside.  It's as if I came over to your house, and instead of engaging with you — in your house — I and a whole bunch of other people came by, and we all chose to chitchat amongst ourselves instead of you.  It's bloody rude.  And that is exactly how pre-service congregations, especially non liturgical (Protestant) behave today.  

    Entering a church sanctuary should induce a sense of awe, of humility.  One should be humbled, penitent.  After all you are entering the house of the Lord.  So, forget about the organ, forget about the gentle, soothing, contemplative music; and, more importantly forget about the other people.  You're in God's house.  Show some respect.

 

So What Happened with Me and the Organ?

I’ve been an organist most of my life. I loved the organ (and perhaps I still do, but that’s a matter with which to be discussed later). There was a time in which I could not imagine myself not being an organist. For decades I was at most peace with myself, most focused, yet free when I would be alone for hours in a dark church or auditorium practising or — especially — improvising at the console. Improvising at the organ was often the inspiration for my composing. Not that I would remember much, if any, of the ideas which passed through my hands and feet; rather, I would come away with insights and the confidence to put musical thoughts on paper (and yes, I still compose with a pencil and several handy erasers). It was nice. The only person’s expectations of whom I was concerned were my own.

But, that’s changed now. A number of factors have occurred since I last played the organ, particularly regarding at the church I had been practising up until a year ago when the Diocese instituted a shut down of its churches. Since then (November 2020, apparently there has been some opening up of the church; notwithstanding the my last communication with the rector (July 2021) who informed me that for insurance reasons I still couldn’t come and practise the organ, even though I’ve seen numerous groups and individuals (outside of the rector and the church administrator) come and go. 

Now, I’ve been here before, under different circumstances mind you; I've gone through “dry” periods of not having an instrument upon which to practise in the past; and it’s very frustrating. Just as I feel I’m regaining my technique, even progressing, some circumstance (too many to numerate here) comes along and I’m sans organ one more time; and the quest to find a decent instrument is renewed. But, this time it’s different. In this case I’ve decided that I’m fed up being at the mercy of duplicitous clergy. Concerning this last situation, since I haven’t received any communication from this clergyman, notwithstanding the obvious change from our last communication (e-mail), as if I’m blind and can’t see the comings and goings at the church, I’ve decided not bother. It’s pretty clear that my presence, no matter how careful, unobtrusive and deferential I’ve been, is simply no longer desired. At least that is my conclusion. I’ve pondered, a lot, as to whether I should ask one more time now. The issue is not that I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me. No, my concern is what I might say.

So, what does this have to do with my attitude to the organ? Well, I simply don’t like playing it much anymore. I’ve had the rug pulled out from beneath me too many times. And at my age I just don’t feel like starting over for ninth or tenth time. It’s a shame; because, I’m currently the interim at a church where the congregation (at least for now) truly appreciate my playing. The organ is much smaller than the one I used to play, and it’s decent for its size; but, at this point I’m totally uninspired and have no desire to learn anything new, much less work on another recital programme.

So, there it is. Unfortunately having had the instrument I have loved to play and has been so much of my inspiration for all the other aspects of my love of music taken away — again, has taken its toll on them and my whole thinking as to who I am. 

I guess I should just stick to gardening.

Rethinking the Readings

  I am mildly dyslexic, which means words and letters have a tendency to jumble up before me; and therefore, I have to spend more time than most to "get it right" when I read aloud.  I spent a substantial part of Wednesday and Thursday working to get John 18 & 19 right (notwithstanding the previous readings I made).  I did these readings hoping that people would get some meaning from them.  I tried to make them as natural sounding, even conversational, as possible so that the listener would get the full impact — the essence — of the message; that maybe they might even be useful to some congregations.  Yet, except for a handful of "friends response to these readings I've given have been largely ignored, just like virtually everything else I've posted.  Needless to say I am not a little disappointed; which is why I have chosen to suspend my Lectionary readings.  I'm NOT looking for a lot of comments or discussions (although that would be nice); rather, a simple "like" or "heart" or "angry" would have been nice, just to know that you've seen and heard my work.  Perhaps this may sound egocentric because I'm not pleased with the response.  Maybe that's so, maybe to an extent; nevertheless, my primary reason was to give something of meaning to people.  However, if no one is interested enough to listen why bother?  I have other things "on my plate" with which to focus my attention, primarily that of writing music that also interests nobody.  Ergo, my eschewing of future Lectionary readings.