Playing the Organ

I often wish that the people who populate my church, the few who remain, were devotees of piano music instead of organ. Although I have a lot of musical ability, I best play the piano, and I love the instrument. A piano makes melodic, passionate, and dynamic music, and as the instrument is played, embodies the soul of the musician. My opinion is that organ music glorifies the instrument rather than the music, and oftentimes sounds soulless; I have, however, heard glorious music played on the organ by people who are truly gifted in moving their hands and feet independently, and who understand how to manipulate the stops to make a magnificent, big sound. I just prefer being able to make the music sing to its audience; the piano does that beautifully.

Our church has a beautiful pipe organ that was installed after a disastrous sanctuary fire a few years ago. The organist at the time of the fire and the installation, and a fine organist she is, has now retired, leaving the organ bench empty for the first time in 50 years. 50 years. She has been a faithful servant, taking off few Sundays in that half-century, but she felt that 50 years was plenty. I agree, not because her skills had diminished, but because she deserved a rest. However, finding a competent organist in a small town, one who is not already employed by a church, is very difficult.

So I find myself a volunteer organist at Broadway Presbyterian Church - not voluntary in the sense that I am not being paid, but voluntary in the sense that I am a pianist at heart, and yet, because some portion of the congregation wants to hear organ music, I am now playing the organ.

When I was a semi-music major at William Jewell College in Liberty, the powers that "were" convinced me that I was not talented enough as a pianist to major in piano, so I should major in organ. Dr. Riddle was a very good teacher, but my heart wasn't in it. I didn't like the organ; however, I bought music, took lessons, and practiced more than I had ever practiced any keyboard music. I was, nevertheless, a pitiful organist. I could play the organ, but I was a pitiful organist.

I think I still am a pitiful organist, but the church where I have been playing the piano for now 20+ years has accepted me as the organist for the church. What they don't remember is that when I moved to Sedalia, 25 years ago, Marian, the 50-year organist, was taking a sabbatical, and I was her substitute. I had just moved to town, and was not known by anyone. As the substitute organist at Broadway Presbyterian Church, I was not received well. In fact, Mr. Lou, the minister at the time, told me that a woman in the congregation could tell that I wasn't an organist and would love to give me lessons. I told him that if she knew how to play, that's what she should be doing. I quit substituting after 6 months, and Marian resumed her position on the bench, which she held until last year at about this time.

When Marian retired, I played the service on the piano, and thought that I did well; however, a faction of the congregation still held out hope for an organist. We thought we had found one, but she turned out to be not well prepared for the position. So after she had sat on the bench for 3 months, she and the church parted ways, and I began playing the piano for service again. I thought I did quite well.

But something in the congregation demanded an organist. And so I volunteered.

I pulled out my college music, bought a couple of "easy organ music" books, and am now the organist. Amazingly, the congregants are supportive. They tell me that I do well and that they enjoy listening to me. As long as I can play the hymns, I feel as if I will do all right. But then I get the new version of "Be Thou My Vision," and I am horrified and lost. I pull out my grandmother's Methodist hymnal, play the easy version, and make it through the day. But the stress is more than I bargained for.

What's wrong with the piano?