The Organist...

I entered the chapel, the previous congregation leaving and a few of us early birds passing them as they left. I know almost none of them, friendly faces pass me, we share a smile and perhaps, a nod. I find the pew--my pew--the same pew an hour earlier another family also claimed as their own--and put down my iPad. After getting ready, showering, dressing, driving to the church, parking, and walking inside, I finally sit and let out a well-deserved sigh.

Not all worshipers have left, or are leaving. Groups of people stay and talk. I look around and notice a lone figure sitting at the century-old organ, his fingers and feet in tandem providing music, atmosphere, a spiritual farewell to the meeting and the room.

I've met the man on occasion. He lives close, but since the boundary separating our group of church-goers from the other group of church-goers to the east separates us spiritually, I have few opportunities to interact with him or his family. It's a shame...a culturally-imposed shame we don't talk more. Oh, I suppose I could go to his house and get to know them better, but that would be...in a word...weird.

His talent evident, the organist finishes the song he played as I came into the chapel. I'd be hard pressed to name it...after attending over three thousand of such meetings in my life, the music can blend together. Even though a dozen or so people remained in the room, mostly chatting with friends, neighbors, I feel I alone noticed the man and his music. I could be wrong--I often am--but I don't think so. How many times have I been in a chapel, an organist playing either prelude or postlude music, and I haven't even noticed, haven't even looked at who was playing, haven't acknowledged the miracle that is music?

Too often to count.

I watch him finish the song...the music, once a living thing surrounding us, comforting and uplifting us, stopped, replaced by the dim of humans in a space built by pioneer ancestors. I watched him humbly gather the music and his personal belongings and leave the stand to join others and continue his sabbath day.

The organist left the room.