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From: https://www.agohq.org/current-issue/ March 2020 The American Organist
IS THE DEATH OF THE ORGAN PRELUDE UPON US?
One of my New York City colleagues, an active church musician for over 20 years, told me today that a large and fashionable synagogue in Manhattan has recently discontinued organ preludes as an element in worship, because the din of the gathering congregation prior to the start of worship had become so loud that it rendered all but the loudest of organ preludes inaudible. Reports such as this one, and the bulk of my own experiences as a church organist in the past three years, lead me to identify the removal of the organ prelude from the order of worship in American churches as an ominous and developing trend. To approach an understanding of how this trend appears to be developing, I offer details of my own recent experiences in three churches. In each of these, awareness of the holy nature of our religious sanctuaries, and the practice of common-sense good manners and respect when in public places, appear to be on a broad decline.
In each of the past three years, I have served Protestant congregations in Indiana and Michigan for brief periods, with service in each ranging from four to nine months. In each of these three congregations, I have witnessed a lack of awareness and respect for the sanctity of the special physical spaces we call sanctuaries. This lack of awareness is particularly so in the time traditionally given to an organ prelude, those moments that immediately precede the first spoken words in a worship service or Mass. I find my recent experiences playing organ preludes to be disturbing, not only owing to professional frustration, but also owing to the greater social and religious implications, of which congregational unruliness appears to be a symptom.
Let us examine the first of three congregations (2017), a Missouri Synod Lutheran church. During my playing of a contemplative prelude of J.S. Bach, “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” in a Maundy Thursday service, I was startled by an extended, loud outburst of laughter by a woman—a known parishioner of middle age who appeared to be of sound mind—who was reacting to a series of jokes being told to her while seated in the pew by a similarly aged male companion. Being on the organ bench, just about ten feet away from the pew where the giggling parishioners carried on, this outburst distracted me so much that I had to pause for a moment before resuming my organ prelude. Perhaps these folks were thinking that casual worship applied to casual dress and in all other ways, too. Was there ever the thought that we behave differently in church, compared with how we behave when entertaining friends and family at home? Was there no silent prayer, or other silent contemplation over Christ's Passion at such a Holy Week service? How entirely insensitive these parishioners appeared! The pastor at this church was not in the habit of encouraging meditative or prayerful silence prior to worship, and in fact, on any given Sunday morning, the pastor of this parish could be seen “working the pews,” so to speak, during prelude time, sipping coffee in the sanctuary from a large mug while standing and chatting with parishioners seated in the pews. It seems that, in this parish, the Christian outreach of fellowship, which, in the most traditional of situations, would be reserved for the fellowship hall post-service, had, in a sense, invaded and conquered the quiet time in the sanctuary.
Moving on to the second congregation of my experience, we have an ELCA Lutheran church, in 2018, during the middle of the long Pentecost season. Here again, casual worship had been encouraged by the pastor over several years. Although the attendance in this tiny parish averaged only 15 to 20 worshippers on Sunday, during the organ prelude, one could frequently hear loud talking, peppered with an occasional outburst of a guffaw, from one of the regular pensioner-age parishioners. Perhaps this happy soul was in need of a hearing aid. Frequently at prelude time, I heard sides of private conversations shouted from parishioners in the narthex. I could not help but learn all about Aunt Millie's latest high bowling score as I tried to focus on playing the organ prelude. On occasion, loud talking by worshippers would continue as the opening sentences of the service ensued, at which point the pastor would raise his voice to intervene, addressing and silencing the chatterers. Again, the behavior of the assembled congregants was such that it interfered with the presentation and hearing of the organ prelude. As with the previous church, the pastor here was unwilling to defend the sanctuary strictly as a sacred, quiet place. Fellowship in the sanctuary had predominance. Was the pastor avoiding confrontation over behavior, perhaps for fear he would alienate or drive away those few parishioners who he felt he had worked so hard to cultivate? It appears that the concept of keeping speech to a whisper in the sanctuary was not instilled as a virtue in this parish. The net result is that worship leaders, both clergy and organist, lose a level of respect. In an extreme and ridiculous analogy, the clergy are reduced to the role of a talk show emcee, while the organist is given the role of a disc jockey.
Let's move on once more to the third and most recent congregation, in 2019. In this Presbyterian congregation of 250 there are three ministers: one traditional senior pastor, and two younger pastors, both of whom were recent graduates of a renowned East Coast seminary. Here, there is but one Sunday worship service, with average Sunday service attendance of 150. The majority of the congregation—as much as 80 percent—identify with the concept of casual worship, and would best describe the worship service as a “celebration.” A small minority of the congregation—about 20 percent in this case—take a more formal, traditional view of worship. Traditional worshippers are patient and accepting of the modern trends in casual worship. Worshippers from these diverse points of view and backgrounds join together in a single, weekly Sunday service. In my short time at this church, I noted that pre-service chatter was more prevalent on Sundays where the casual worshippers were in the majority, and when the younger clergy, who have cultivated their own supporters in the congregation, are the assigned preachers. At worship services where traditional worshippers comprise the majority, there is a much greater sense of calm and quiet in the sanctuary at organ prelude time.
At the 5 P.M. Christmas Eve service, the senior pastor estimated a congregation of about 275, comprised of 80 percent casual worshippers, with about 60 percent of those casual worshippers being unchurched guests, whose attendance was driven by open invitations posted on Facebook. As 5:00 approached, the congregation swelled like a “flash mob” at the shopping mall. Can you guess the demeanor of this congregation? It was celebratory indeed, like a rowdy party on Super Bowl Sunday at a local sports bar. For this organist, it was like a surreal dream. At prelude time, the din from the gathered throng was so loud that I could not hear the notes of the organ prelude I was playing. After not hearing what I was playing for a minute, I paused at a natural break in the score, and then I engaged the Full Organ piston and rendered a ten-voice chord in the key of the prelude. To my surprise, this procedure drew no one's attention. The din and chatter continued unabated. When the prelude was over, I witnessed our mature, tall male senior pastor and a young associate female pastor at the front of the nave, both appearing a bit cowed, trying their best to gain the attention of this party-ready congregation. At this service on this Christmas Eve, our dear infant baby Jesus would most certainly have been awakened. The church choir director, who has encouraged and supported casual worship with a steady selection of light, contemporary Christian anthems for about 20 years, apologized profusely to me after the service, as if she had somehow borne responsibility for the behavior that obfuscated the organ prelude. She related that borderline unruly congregations of the sort we just experienced had comprised “an issue” in our church for quite some time. It was then that I understood how our previous organist may have been driven to resign her post.
So, this letter to the editor wishes to pose the question as to how many of our AGO organists have had similar experiences with unruly congregations at organ prelude time. My letter also raises the question of whether the casual and celebratory style of worship gatherings, as are so embraced by today's clergy, are in fact compatible with, or rather, are combative against, the organ prelude. When one considers that organ preludes are often played below the mezzoforte dynamic level, and when an organist encounters so much chatter and din in the sanctuary at prelude time so as to render only the loudest of preludes audible, this condition automatically imposes an artistic and spiritual limitation on the organ selections that an organist might consider for worship.
I should not paint a completely hopeless picture. In many Roman Catholic parishes, I continue to witness priests and nuns moving with quick resolve to enforce the level of decorum they wish to maintain in the sanctuary. Also, during my time at the first church cited above, I served as organist for one memorial service where all but a few of the congregation were visitors from another parish. At that standing-room-only gathering, the quiet respect from visitors was such that one could have heard a pin drop throughout the 20-minute organ prelude. That remarkable gift of quiet and attentiveness afforded me the opportunity to provide the highest level of comfort that the organ is so known for. But the trends I have mentioned indicate that such experiences are becoming dearer and dearer exceptions. Is it not our clergy who are best positioned to guide and influence their parishioners in the best, most respectful manners and customs? If clergy fail to direct congregations in constructive ways, how can the blessing we know as the organ prelude escape becoming an everstronger candidate for extinction?
FREDERICK HOHMAN South Bend, Ind.
IS THE DEATH OF THE ORGAN PRELUDE UPON US?
One of my New York City colleagues, an active church musician for over 20 years, told me today that a large and fashionable synagogue in Manhattan has recently discontinued organ preludes as an element in worship, because the din of the gathering congregation prior to the start of worship had become so loud that it rendered all but the loudest of organ preludes inaudible. Reports such as this one, and the bulk of my own experiences as a church organist in the past three years, lead me to identify the removal of the organ prelude from the order of worship in American churches as an ominous and developing trend. To approach an understanding of how this trend appears to be developing, I offer details of my own recent experiences in three churches. In each of these, awareness of the holy nature of our religious sanctuaries, and the practice of common-sense good manners and respect when in public places, appear to be on a broad decline.
In each of the past three years, I have served Protestant congregations in Indiana and Michigan for brief periods, with service in each ranging from four to nine months. In each of these three congregations, I have witnessed a lack of awareness and respect for the sanctity of the special physical spaces we call sanctuaries. This lack of awareness is particularly so in the time traditionally given to an organ prelude, those moments that immediately precede the first spoken words in a worship service or Mass. I find my recent experiences playing organ preludes to be disturbing, not only owing to professional frustration, but also owing to the greater social and religious implications, of which congregational unruliness appears to be a symptom.
Let us examine the first of three congregations (2017), a Missouri Synod Lutheran church. During my playing of a contemplative prelude of J.S. Bach, “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” in a Maundy Thursday service, I was startled by an extended, loud outburst of laughter by a woman—a known parishioner of middle age who appeared to be of sound mind—who was reacting to a series of jokes being told to her while seated in the pew by a similarly aged male companion. Being on the organ bench, just about ten feet away from the pew where the giggling parishioners carried on, this outburst distracted me so much that I had to pause for a moment before resuming my organ prelude. Perhaps these folks were thinking that casual worship applied to casual dress and in all other ways, too. Was there ever the thought that we behave differently in church, compared with how we behave when entertaining friends and family at home? Was there no silent prayer, or other silent contemplation over Christ's Passion at such a Holy Week service? How entirely insensitive these parishioners appeared! The pastor at this church was not in the habit of encouraging meditative or prayerful silence prior to worship, and in fact, on any given Sunday morning, the pastor of this parish could be seen “working the pews,” so to speak, during prelude time, sipping coffee in the sanctuary from a large mug while standing and chatting with parishioners seated in the pews. It seems that, in this parish, the Christian outreach of fellowship, which, in the most traditional of situations, would be reserved for the fellowship hall post-service, had, in a sense, invaded and conquered the quiet time in the sanctuary.
Moving on to the second congregation of my experience, we have an ELCA Lutheran church, in 2018, during the middle of the long Pentecost season. Here again, casual worship had been encouraged by the pastor over several years. Although the attendance in this tiny parish averaged only 15 to 20 worshippers on Sunday, during the organ prelude, one could frequently hear loud talking, peppered with an occasional outburst of a guffaw, from one of the regular pensioner-age parishioners. Perhaps this happy soul was in need of a hearing aid. Frequently at prelude time, I heard sides of private conversations shouted from parishioners in the narthex. I could not help but learn all about Aunt Millie's latest high bowling score as I tried to focus on playing the organ prelude. On occasion, loud talking by worshippers would continue as the opening sentences of the service ensued, at which point the pastor would raise his voice to intervene, addressing and silencing the chatterers. Again, the behavior of the assembled congregants was such that it interfered with the presentation and hearing of the organ prelude. As with the previous church, the pastor here was unwilling to defend the sanctuary strictly as a sacred, quiet place. Fellowship in the sanctuary had predominance. Was the pastor avoiding confrontation over behavior, perhaps for fear he would alienate or drive away those few parishioners who he felt he had worked so hard to cultivate? It appears that the concept of keeping speech to a whisper in the sanctuary was not instilled as a virtue in this parish. The net result is that worship leaders, both clergy and organist, lose a level of respect. In an extreme and ridiculous analogy, the clergy are reduced to the role of a talk show emcee, while the organist is given the role of a disc jockey.
Let's move on once more to the third and most recent congregation, in 2019. In this Presbyterian congregation of 250 there are three ministers: one traditional senior pastor, and two younger pastors, both of whom were recent graduates of a renowned East Coast seminary. Here, there is but one Sunday worship service, with average Sunday service attendance of 150. The majority of the congregation—as much as 80 percent—identify with the concept of casual worship, and would best describe the worship service as a “celebration.” A small minority of the congregation—about 20 percent in this case—take a more formal, traditional view of worship. Traditional worshippers are patient and accepting of the modern trends in casual worship. Worshippers from these diverse points of view and backgrounds join together in a single, weekly Sunday service. In my short time at this church, I noted that pre-service chatter was more prevalent on Sundays where the casual worshippers were in the majority, and when the younger clergy, who have cultivated their own supporters in the congregation, are the assigned preachers. At worship services where traditional worshippers comprise the majority, there is a much greater sense of calm and quiet in the sanctuary at organ prelude time.
At the 5 P.M. Christmas Eve service, the senior pastor estimated a congregation of about 275, comprised of 80 percent casual worshippers, with about 60 percent of those casual worshippers being unchurched guests, whose attendance was driven by open invitations posted on Facebook. As 5:00 approached, the congregation swelled like a “flash mob” at the shopping mall. Can you guess the demeanor of this congregation? It was celebratory indeed, like a rowdy party on Super Bowl Sunday at a local sports bar. For this organist, it was like a surreal dream. At prelude time, the din from the gathered throng was so loud that I could not hear the notes of the organ prelude I was playing. After not hearing what I was playing for a minute, I paused at a natural break in the score, and then I engaged the Full Organ piston and rendered a ten-voice chord in the key of the prelude. To my surprise, this procedure drew no one's attention. The din and chatter continued unabated. When the prelude was over, I witnessed our mature, tall male senior pastor and a young associate female pastor at the front of the nave, both appearing a bit cowed, trying their best to gain the attention of this party-ready congregation. At this service on this Christmas Eve, our dear infant baby Jesus would most certainly have been awakened. The church choir director, who has encouraged and supported casual worship with a steady selection of light, contemporary Christian anthems for about 20 years, apologized profusely to me after the service, as if she had somehow borne responsibility for the behavior that obfuscated the organ prelude. She related that borderline unruly congregations of the sort we just experienced had comprised “an issue” in our church for quite some time. It was then that I understood how our previous organist may have been driven to resign her post.
So, this letter to the editor wishes to pose the question as to how many of our AGO organists have had similar experiences with unruly congregations at organ prelude time. My letter also raises the question of whether the casual and celebratory style of worship gatherings, as are so embraced by today's clergy, are in fact compatible with, or rather, are combative against, the organ prelude. When one considers that organ preludes are often played below the mezzoforte dynamic level, and when an organist encounters so much chatter and din in the sanctuary at prelude time so as to render only the loudest of preludes audible, this condition automatically imposes an artistic and spiritual limitation on the organ selections that an organist might consider for worship.
I should not paint a completely hopeless picture. In many Roman Catholic parishes, I continue to witness priests and nuns moving with quick resolve to enforce the level of decorum they wish to maintain in the sanctuary. Also, during my time at the first church cited above, I served as organist for one memorial service where all but a few of the congregation were visitors from another parish. At that standing-room-only gathering, the quiet respect from visitors was such that one could have heard a pin drop throughout the 20-minute organ prelude. That remarkable gift of quiet and attentiveness afforded me the opportunity to provide the highest level of comfort that the organ is so known for. But the trends I have mentioned indicate that such experiences are becoming dearer and dearer exceptions. Is it not our clergy who are best positioned to guide and influence their parishioners in the best, most respectful manners and customs? If clergy fail to direct congregations in constructive ways, how can the blessing we know as the organ prelude escape becoming an everstronger candidate for extinction?
FREDERICK HOHMAN South Bend, Ind.
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