When the organ sings

I want to start by saying “thank you!” Thank you to Martin Green for being both a teacher and a mentor, and thank you to all of you, for providing this place, this church is much more than a mere building, it is a community, and I’d like to thank you all for having given me so much support. And for the choristers, and this magnificent organ and the organ scholar program. In fact, I don’t believe I
should ever have turned to music had it not been for St. Paul’s.

I had been taken to hear the symphony by my grandmother, when I was young, and to church, but I never had any real desire to be a musician myself. That began to change when I started singing with the boys choir here. I had been studying piano for about a year at the time, and was certainly no virtuoso! So, when I came to choir, I assumed, naturally, that I would be tested in some way or another, and logically, this would be piano. So, I prepared the glorious American folk tune, Yankee Doodle! Of course nothing like that happened and I was welcomed into the choristers and had a lot of fun that first year, and made some great friends. I soon inquired about chances to play the organ, and Martin was very encouraging, saying he would be happy to teach me should I take piano for a few more years, which I did. And on the organ, I found myself learning a lot quicker than on piano.

As the years went by, I started noticing two things. The first was beyond piano lessons, I really had a passion for music, and secondly, that through music, my life and my faith were opening up in ways I could have never dreamed. I found a new level of spirituality in music; no longer was it just the joy of singing, but also the baptism by it.

Martin was a big part of that. He is a guide to all of us, boys and girls choirs, even the adults sometimes… We spend most rehearsals correcting notes and rhythms, but, occasionally, Martin will take the time to discuss the music, and point out a little trick of the composer. Like when we sing the word death and the music becomes very hushed, or when we sing about love and all sorts of syrupy harmonies start emerging. It is in this subtle way that Martin really taught me to listen to music. And now I find myself picking up more and more on these little tricks. And how often composers use them. It is with awakened ears that I have really begun to realize how infinitely varied music is.

Another part of that was the message. I have loved this church. There is something wonderful about its message. This is the only church I have ever been to which so greatly focuses on God’s love, and on his forgiveness, and the forgiveness we must feel for others. I’ve discovered this not just through the sermons, but through the psalms, the anthems, and the hymns. Music came to be a kind of intercessor, helping to open my mind and heart to the Gospel and the humanity around me in new and unexpected ways. Lately I find I challenge myself to be more forgiving instead of judgmental. I find myself less caught up in the hustle bustle of scheduling and deadlines, and finding space to notice the small, quiet moments of grace and beauty in life. I know my parents can appreciate that as I don’t argue with them as much as I used to!

I often practice here on weekday afternoons, when the doors are kept open for guests. I do not know why people come in. Assuredly some are members, but, more often than not, these people are unfamiliar faces. And they enter from the harsh, crowded world outside into this solemn, sacred space, where the organ is singing. Some come in to pray, others, it seems, are here for comfort. And as they take in the serenity of this place, they do seem strangely consoled by the effect of the church.

Sometimes before they leave, they will walk over to the console and nod at me for a moment, before disappearing into the city, but many will walk up to the rail and nod at the organ, not me. And that is how is should be it seems. I’ve come to realize there is a reason the organist is obscured from view. This organ is intended to become its own being. Both a physical and spiritual presence. And the organ represents something more than mere human music. There is an enormity to the power of the organ which lends it a mystical nature all of its own. When even the loudest choirs sing, it is in praise to God.

But when the organ sings, it is as though God is allowing the briefest glimpse of his heaven and his might. Much as music has been an intercessor in my life, as the organist I feel honored to occasionally play the role of facilitator, helping to bridge, through music, this world and the divine.

That is the power of the organ, to transcend our mortality. It is not a matter of who plays it, or what is playing. It is its own unique being in this house. And that is why it is such an important part of this cathedral and this city. So on behalf of myself, and those who have come before, and who will come after, thank you.

Nicholas Halbert, age 16, is an organ scholar at St Paul’s Cathedral. He offered this witness at Sunday’s 10.30 service, to the enthusiastic applause of the congregation.