… Always anticipate…
Some parishioners needed to put in time before the service; those of us who live too far from the church to be able to return between our usual Sunday worship and the memorial. During the lull, everyone pitched in, in whatever way they could. We first passed through the building, taking a look for those things which we take for granted as normal, but which might seem out of place to a visitor. We prepared the reception tables and moved some chairs around in our fellowship hall. As accompanist for the afternoon, I took the opportunity to run through my music one last time, but soon began to roam the halls. After I looked at the clock and tired of pacing around, I was compelled to extend the requisite ten minute gathering music. I asked the pastor if she needed to discuss anything with me, and finding that all was clear, I took my seat when just a few people were in the sanctuary. As more followed in, I thought they might appreciate some quiet music.
The service ran flawlessly, with words, reflections, and music that surely allowed the family to remember their beloved fondly. That is the purpose of the worship musician, and the great difference between the mindset of the “performer” versus the “servant”. My goal that hour was to keep one step ahead of the proceedings, and provide what was needed to be completely invisible to the family and congregation. Play when expected. Sit motionless otherwise. Always anticipate. What’s the mood right now, so how long should this hymn introduction be? Are there a lot of unfamiliar faces out there, and might they not know this familiar-to-us melody? Should I play the melody more prominently? What words will the pastor use to introduce the musical interlude? How many more words will she say? Our working relationship is such that I could tell every cadence of her voice as she led to each musical offering, and I was able to leave silence that was only grace-filled. No bumbling today, that would only disturb the grieving.
Do no harm
These are just some of the thoughts that go through the mind of the worship accompanist, and I took it upon myself at this first funeral to heighten each thought, given the gravity of the situation. On a regular Sunday, it might feel great to close an anthem or postlude with a bang and applause, but yesterday it felt so good to let my final notes dampen into the chatter of people already facing away from me as they began to enter the receiving line. I had done no harm.
A good friend came up to me afterward and told me that he was kicking himself on the way in, that he had not thought to prepare a playlist of gathering music to be quietly played through the sound system, and that he was so happy when he entered the church, still twenty minutes prior to the service, and heard my extended prelude. That was the best compliment I could’ve received yesterday. It made me happy because that choice had been instinctive.
We all pace at times like that. And at a community church such as mine, we all do what is instinctive. Some prepare the reception, others prepare the sanctuary. Some place flowers, and empty trash cans. Some pick up pizzas for the impromptu work group, and others check microphone batteries. None of these responsibilities are assigned in advance. We just know what to do.
Some twenty years ago now, I recall, I was asked through some grapevine channels, to sing the national anthem at a local town’s Fourth of July parade. It was an early morning gig, and I arrived minutes before, in my tuxedo, ready to sing. Two minutes after beginning, I was done, and back in my car, with one hundred dollars in my pocket. I remember laughing out loud at this, foolishly calculating the hourly rate (as if that had any relevance), but feeling, at the same time, like I’d stolen their money. I was a budding professional musician, who sang for fun for hours a day. What had made those two minutes any more significant to warrant such a hefty paycheck? I was, after all, just a music student from the local state university. But then it dawned on me, and it has stuck with me forever since: I had something that the members of the Fourth of July committee could not produce for themselves (in the same way that we pay someone to fix our car, or edit our term papers). Payment for services rendered only seemed strange to me in this case because I was the one rendering those services, and I found them natural. Not easy, necessarily, but natural. It was what I was trained for.
Do what comes naturally
Yesterday was a very long day at church, with a lot of moving parts, and as I reflect back on it today, I am cognizant of how each person contributed in personal ways. Between morning worship and the memorial, we had coffee hour and a congregational meeting on stewardship. My wife prepared the stewardship slide show and led the presentation with our student pastor. People afterward told her what a good job she had done on the slides, and she instinctively told them that it had just been a template, no big deal. But, as we spoke afterward, she realized “Even when you use a template, it’s still possible to make a really lousy PowerPoint.” And how! She didn’t even realize in the moment how much nuance she had put into that starter file, in order to make it look beautiful. She had a designer’s eye that none of us could have added to it. She had done what came naturally, forgetting that some people are terrified to even turn on a computer.
Likewise, at coffee hour, I raved to a parishioner about the pecan pie she had baked. Characteristically, she reported that it had been no big deal, just a bit of this, and a bit of that. Well, it was something that would have intimidated me, and something that I couldn’t have thought about that Saturday night, as we tested that PowerPoint, and I finalized my musical selections. She did what came natural, and I benefited. Likewise, my wife and I had spent our Saturday preparing to our own strengths, and eventually, all the pieces come together. What’s more, I find that when I do what comes naturally, I am most happy.
There will be times when it’s necessary to perform a task which does not come naturally, or does not come happily. I wish I knew how best to avoid getting into them too often. It’s not easy, especially because if you put your best face on, and do your best, it’s all too common that someone will say “Wow, you’re a real natural at this,” and when a similar, equally disagreeable project comes around the next time, there’s no way to get out of it. I am simply not good at that, and I’m afraid I occasionally find myself working on tasks which don’t interest me or at which I feel overburdened. I guess that’s a separate topic for another day, but it’s clear what happens when people are working together, each on his or her own specialty, and it makes me wonder, “If no one wants to be a part of a specific project, does that mean it doesn’t need to be prioritized?”
Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that every establishment you’ve ever entered has had someone working in it? It goes without saying, but when you actually do say it, that’s quite a phenomenon to ponder. Right now you could Google the business hours of any store, restaurant or other business with a front desk, and more than 99% of the time, there will be someone there waiting for you to come right in. How can I be so confident? Think of the last time that you found a store door locked with a post-it note on it: “No one was available to work today.” Certainly less than 1/100 of the time, huh? Now, think for a second about how many of those service workers seemed like they actually wanted to be there, like they were doing what they wanted to, what came naturally to them.
An Organizational Behavior professor I know teaches that the highest functioning teams are not those comprised of a coalition of people who each, given ample time, could complete the given project entirely on their own, but rather, they are groups of specialized individuals who realize their specific contribution’s importance and commit to delivering that product, service, function, etc. on time and without delay or consternation.
It’s not easy to find a community (of parishioners, colleagues, what have you!) in which you can comfortably offer what comes naturally to you. Yesterday, I was happy to realize yet again that I have found my community, and have found those strengths that make me happiest. Perhaps my goal should not be an attempt to escape those aforementioned disagreeable times. A simple reframing of mind suggests to me that I would do better to find myself more often in situations where I can do things that are no big deal.