A gift

At the church where I play the organ, the pastor resigned a few weeks ago. He drove with his family this past Saturday to his new position in Philadelphia. I'm a little reluctant to post anything, even tangentially, related to Christianity because it can be so contentious with most people I know (or read on LJ).

But he was singularly important to me.

I don't know if it's where I live or if it's the nature of churches, but in previous positions I frequently encountered both clergy and musicians who seemed insecure in some way. They would be positive on the surface, but underneath they were not encouraging. They oddly seemed to be threatened by growth & creativity. It was so refreshing for the past ten years to work with someone who had none of this. Jeff took an interest in me and encouraged me to challenge myself.

We never discussed my orientation, but he made it crystal clear that he approved of me. A handful of people, unfortunately including his assistant, had issues in this regard, and sometimes they would make me feel uncomfortable. But Jeff kept this from me as much possible and his support was unwavering.

I'm sure he will be glad to be back in the East where he spent most of his adult life. (He was raised in Portland OR.) At the dinner following his last Sunday, I slowly became aware that he had been as important to everyone else as he had been to me. He ceaselessly gave of himself, and gently encouraged others to do the same. (This church builds two homes for homeless families in Mexico each year. During Hurricanes Katrina & Rita, I lost count of the number of crews that drove down to rebuild houses. And on and on...)

He encouraged me to occasionally play solo piano pieces in the services. When I started there, this was never done. I could not find anything published that remotely interested me other than classical music. So I began writing my own pieces and occasionally improvising. This was an enriching experience and brought me in touch with my earlier life as a musician. I was glad when I saw that his last service was simply the one we had done each week, without any special fanfare. I played one of the piano pieces that he had liked as a prelude, and wrote a new one as an offertory.

Online I found a copy of a 19th century translation of the Psalter from Hebrew into Scots (this is a Presbyterian church). When it arrived from Edinburgh, I was delighted to find it in almost perfect condition, and the beautiful red end papers and ink had faded little. I wrapped it in some old book binding paper and placed it on his desk. On his last Sunday, I was rehearsing with a small group when I first saw him. He simply came up behind me, leaned down, wordlessly put his arms around me, and held on for awhile.

I will miss him terribly.