Rick Seaholm In all that we do, we can only hope that what is committed to the page, canvas, or podium will be for us a satisfactory representation of that period, in hindsight. For this reason, it is of importance to a musician planning a concert, senior recital, or audition that he choose exactly the “right” pieces. In planning for worship, a church musician adds to that complexity the desire that the pieces reflect the “right” message. In planning for his commissioning (or ordination, or wedding, or child’s baptism), a worship planner is given the unique opportunity to determine the course of an entire experience for those gathered, and for historical record.
And so the creation of the worship service becomes its own journey, one intended to reflect (respectfully) all that has transpired during its formative period. Sometimes that message is inherently clear, due to season or occasion. Other services are more open-ended. A commissioning service such as this could be rather direct; songs and prayers about music ministry, and you’ll find it does have its share. For me, though, I have sought to choose works which reflect what I have learned in this process, and which express who I am today. I’ve been attending church for nearly forty years now, thirty of those heavily focused on music, and twenty of those in a professional capacity. Why now? Why at all? Clearly I’ve found a settled home for myself here, and likely can stay as long as I wish. “What could commissioning possibly offer you?” I was asked by some along the way. I didn’t really know. Initially, I suppose there was some desire for validation; a proof, if you will, that I treat the profession of church musician with its due respect (J.S. Bach is looking down at me, after all). Yet I soon found that every checkbox in the Manual on Ministry taught me something new about God, the UCC, myself. Through the process’s requisite writing, learning, and self-reflection, I have come to a far greater understanding of who I am, of what drives me, and of what I need. It’s a work in progress, as those around me can see, but I’m getting there, working for deeper connections, greater appreciations, and a spirit of being “present” more often. And I’m much more open to discuss all of it than I ever would’ve dreamed before this began.
The instrumental pieces you’ll here today are all played by people very dear to me. From my very first outdoor worship service at Edwards Church in the fall of 2009, I have been aware of the instrumental talents in our family. It took me at least four years, I’d say, before I got up the nerve to suggest a collaboration between On the Fence and our choir. We’ve now worked together each Christmas Sunday since then, and I don’t tire of the thrill of it. This past summer, Cheryl Elkins and Susan Minor joined our music staff as organist and pianist, respectively. Each has been a delight to work with, and agreed whole-heartedly to be a part of this special service, even taking requests. Many of you know that I attribute a chance viewing of the film Amadeus in fifth grade to the necessity of music in my life. Since then, Mozart’s work has been my guiding star, and has opened amazing doors to me. The D minor piano concerto’s slow movement (our offering music) serves as the closing credits to that movie, which begin to roll on screen over Mozart’s sighing, contented laughter.
The choral pieces in today’s service come from various parts of my life, and each tell a meaningful story. From Virgil Thomson’s My Shepherd Will Supply My Need, the first piece I ever got to sing with my future wife in college, based on the final text I read with my dying grandmother, to The Lord Bless You and Keep You, the alma mater of Westminster Choir College, each song has its place in my story. Some, including Blessings Abound and Hlohonolofatsa were discoveries I made here at Edwards, and have only known sung by the voices you hear today. Be Thou My Vision offers a second nod to the love of my life, it being of ancient Irish source material. But, for me, the central point of this service is by John Rutter, taken from his Dedication and Amen. When I first learned this anthem last spring, a particular line spoke clearly to me: “If I may not change the whole wide world, may I do the best I can.” It instantly became a mantra I repeat when I am struggling with issues of self-worth. I love that it is not a cynical declaration that “I cannot change the world”, but rather the subtle statement that degree of personal involvement is what drives the success of a project. Even if it doesn’t end up changing the world, that’s okay, I’ve probably touched someone nevertheless. It leaves open the possibility that our small efforts may have greater impact than we expect.
I could go on indefinitely writing about each of these pieces, each of the people I’ve chosen for this service, each of you gathered here, even. To learn more about this process, I encourage you to visit my personal website rickseaholm.com where I have reflected at length on all of it. And of course, I welcome in-person conversation. I hope to see you around Edwards!
Rick Seaholm
Commissioned Minister of Music