Christmas Eve 2014

Christmas magic never gets old. But I believe that my particular brand of magic might be a little warped from everyone else’s. From 1988 until 2004, I was employed in churches and had Christmas Eve duties. That means that with few exceptions, 2014 was the tenth consecutive year that I did not play anywhere for Christmas Eve. I have enjoyed church-hopping each year, wherever I am.

But I tried something new this year. Last month, I decided that I needed a change of pace for Christmas Eve. I decided that if I can help out a church in need that night, I might as well put my talents to good use. So I emailed a few key friends and posted on Facebook my availability; I included the stipulations that the church must be in need of an organist, not just looking for someone to cover for an organist who didn’t want to play that night. I also stipulated a general geographical area so that I could make it to my sister’s at a decent hour that night. As it turned out, no one needed me. I suppose that’s good news that all organists in the region I was advertising must have been in good health and willing to work that night! I’ll try harder next year.

All that to say that my warped sense of Christmas magic is that I miss the sheer size of Christmas Eve as experienced from the organ bench. I miss practicing for it and preparing a 30-minute organ recital before the services. And I certainly miss the singing of choir and congregation on that night. I also miss that magical feeling that the Willcocks arrangements give off – even when I was playing in warm, humid Houston all those years, it was very easy to imagine that we were in a quaint stone church with snow falling outside and that everyone was going to walk home in the snow with their candles and spend a joyous and solemn Christmas with family near the fire. That’s the Christmas magic I love, the part that I create on my own with just a little musical cueing.

Anyway, since no church needed my services, I church-hopped again this year. I suppose it would take a minimum of two churches attended to constitute church hopping, and that’s all I had time for this year. The magic described above is still present, even though I don’t experience it from the organ bench any more. But we all know that a blog post of mine wouldn’t be complete without some subjective statistics thrown in! Here are some observations by Joby the professional musician. You know I can’t resist:

So this year, I heard half of one service that was perfectly dreadful, and then I scooted across town to a full service that was quite nice. One service had a good organist seated at the worst appliance of an organ I have ever heard. I couldn’t see anything, but I’m figuring that that organ came from the old building when the church relocated in 1973. Perfectly hideous. Another service had a pianist seated at an above-average pipe organ. He played with very good rhythm, but I could tell he misses his beloved damper pedal. One sermon was about death, pain, and how to attain salvation. The other was much, much better. One center aisle runner was crooked; interesting sight on the way back from communion. Speaking of communion, I was struck by the taste of grape juice coming out of a golden chalice; I was expecting some fermentation. Finally, both services had sound systems run by deaf music haters. That will be worth its own blog post one of these days.

I believe it’s no accident that Christmas Eve and Good Friday tended to be my favorite services of the year. They have something in common: at some point, both are done in darkness. I enjoyed hearing a pipe organ played in the dark. I enjoyed working in the dark while so many other people were at Christmas parties or already in bed.

Whatever your magic, embrace it! It’s kind of fun. And a Merry Christmas and a blessed 2015 to you.