Father Richie sighed as he went to the door of the rectory to answer it. This was the fourth person who applied for the job of an organist for the church. The last one he got had more tattoos than skin. He was more excited over the prospect of playing “Stairway to Heaven” on the organ than any hymns.
He opened the door. Standing on the threshold was a young blond man, dressed in a suit and a tasteful black coat that went to just below his knees. He smiled and held out a hand. “Afternoon, Father. I have an appointment with Father Richie.”
“That’s me. You must be Mr. Blackfox,” he said, and stepped aside for the young man to enter. “Come on in out of the cold.”
“Thanks.” He stepped inside, and slipped off his gloves.
“I’m glad you could come in the mid afternoon. Let me tell you about the position.”
“Okay,” he said, following Ritchie through the rectory. They went down a couple of halls.
Richie talked on the way. “Basically you’d be on call for funerals and weddings, and you might need to be backup for the Sunday masses. We have a certain set of music that’s played throughout the year – given to us by the Vatican – with a few empty spots that we can pick and choose what to play.”
“What about new music?”
“This congregation, like most of them, is old and conservative.” Richie gave him a small smile. “I tried to introduce spirituals a couple of years back but nobody could follow along. The laypeople here, they don’t read music.”
“Do you have a choir?”
“Not anymore. We rent out a choir for the high holidays like Easter and Christmas.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, who’s your organist now?”
Richie got to the mahogany doors that would enter into the vestible of the church. This was the first time an interviewee asked about the present organist. “Tom Muller. He’s getting up there in years, and his voice is losing its luster, but I don’t have the heart to tell him to go.”
“He would probably think that the other person you hire is going to take his place eventually.”
“That’s why I need someone a little diplomatic.” He hadn’t found one yet. The other three interviews had their own style. One was looked like he was just out of high school or college, another a gruff retired bandsman, then the tattoed metalist. “Someone who doesn’t mind taking the back seat.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
They went into the church proper. It was cold in there – warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing, but cold enough to be uncomfortable. He brought the young man to the antiquated organ. He turned around to look at the huge pipes. “Hm. I didn’t expect this.”
“This is an old church,” Father Richie said. “It’s been around since the 1800’s.”
“I know,” the young man said, and looked at the organ itself. “I haven’t played one of these in years.”
Father Richie frowned. “Most people stick to the first couple of rows, I’ve noticed.”
“Oh, I know what the keys do.” He took off his coat, even though it was chilly. “I assume you want me to play something?”
“Yes, if you would. Pick anything out of the book.” He motioned to the book of sheet music in front of him.
He smiled, “I’ll do one better.” He pressed a couple of keys, warming up tunelessly it seemed. He played a bit of a tune that tugged at Richie’s consciousness, but he couldn’t place it. Then he stopped, raised his hands from the keyboard and began the first mournful strains of “Abide With Me.”
After the chorus, the man began to sing,
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
“Stop,” Richie said. The man stopped, a note hanging in the air. He had a good voice, and the music coming out of the machine were enough to pull the hearstrings. This would make a family cry at any funeral, easily.
“Are you all right?”
“That was excellent.”
“Well, the acoustics here are pretty good.”
“How much do you want?”
The man laughed. “Well, Father, there’s something I need to tell you. I’m not Catholic.”
Part of him screamed that he didn’t care.
“I’m not even Christian, either.”
That he cared. His face fell.
“I could still do your wedding and funerals, but I don’t think you’d want me for the high holidays.”
In fact, he would. Hearing Easter hymns coming from this man would inspire the congregation. He was torn. Having a non-Christian in the house of God, performing a duty that should be offered to another Catholic might be insulting to the congregation and to God. Or would it?
“I need to think about it,” Richie said.
“Well, what’s the pay?”
“Fifty dollars each time you come play.”
“I can accept that, just so you know.”
Richie nodded. “Play a couple more.”
By the end of Lumina Dominae, he was hired.
Words: 860.
What inspired me to write this piece was watching a woman with a D&D cup of coffee walk into a church at 7:45 a.m. She was obviously going to work, but what kind of work would she be doing this early in the morning? Secretarial? Far too early. Then I remembered that they often have organists for funerals, and funerals start usually around 9 or even 10. She probably had to go into the church and get ready, maybe help out a little bit in the rectory…and then I thought “Which one of my characters could possibly do that kind of job? Someone retired. Someone who knows music – ” and immediately Casey came to mind.