Paddy's Playful Pipe Ponderings on Organ Music by Paddy Allen

 

Paddy’s Playful Pipe Ponderings on Organ Music

By Paddy “The Golden Doodle” Allen

The house has been awfully quiet this week, or at least it was until Monday morning. Grandma Carol packed her bags and headed out to celebrate our grandson Max’s high school graduation a week ago Saturday. We are so incredibly proud of that boy, but her absence left a pretty sizeable hole in the daily routine here on the home front… and left the refrigerator entirely unguarded.

So, there we were: Grandpa Jim and yours truly, a couple of bachelors left to fend for ourselves. Now, when a Wisconsin farm boy and his trusty Golden Doodle are left alone, things can go one or two ways. You can either sit around moping over the lack of premium dog treats, or you can turn the kitchen into a ballroom. Grandpa chose the latter.

Early Monday morning, Grandpa walked over to the stereo system and cranked the loudspeakers up to a volume that I’m pretty sure they could hear all the way over in New Harmony. He was hovering over the stove, whipping up a bachelor-style breakfast for the two of us, when suddenly the airwaves were hit with a blast of pure, unadulterated vintage bubblegum pop.

It was “The Twist” by Chubby Checker.

Before I could even blink, Grandpa dropped the spatula, grabbed my front paws, and we were tearing up the linoleum! You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a former Air Force Sergeant and a furry, thirty-pound Golden Doodle doing the twist between the refrigerator and the kitchen table. My tail was wagging in 4/4 time, and Grandpa was moving with the agility of his old high school wrestling days, though I’m fairly certain his knees were making a few sound effects of their own. I tell you, the joy in that kitchen was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

After we finally caught our breath and polished off a pair of perfectly cooked breakfasts, I looked up at him, panting a little, and decided to ask a serious question.

“Dad,” I said, tilting my head, “I know you are having the new organ installed in the Church, will you be playing music like this? I feel the Spirit when I hear this music.”

Grandpa smiled, leaned back in his chair, and gave me a look that was both warm and a little bit fierce.

“I do too, Paddy,” Grandpa said, nodding honestly. “But unfortunately, the people who dominate the traditional ‘pipe organ’ world are often musical elitists. And musical elitists usually are so worried about playing for the other musical elitists sitting in the audience, they rarely play songs the average listener actually wants to hear. That is why our Pipe Organ Dedication on Sunday, September 13th—right during River Days Weekend—is going to be completely different. Those high-brow critics get so caught up in the technical perfection and the rigid complexity that they forget music is meant to move the human heart and stir the soul. They forget that Mozart was the rock star of his day and felt the same way.”

Grandpa continued, tapping his fingers on the kitchen table to an imaginary beat. “People look at classical music today like it belongs in a museum, under glass, only to be touched by folks in stuffy tuxedos. But back then? Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was writing catchy hooks, playing to packed, rowdy rooms, and putting on a show! He wrote music to make people feel alive, to laugh, to cry, and yes, to move. He wasn’t writing for a boardroom of rigid academics; he was writing for the crowd.”

Grandpa leaned forward, his eyes lighting up the way they always do when he gets passionate about ministry and music.

“If we lose the joy, Paddy, we lose the whole point. King David didn’t dance before the Ark of the Covenant with stiff, calculated steps to impress a committee of critics—he danced with all his might because the Spirit moved him! That’s the disconnect with these elitists. They’ve turned a vibrant, living tool of praise into an intellectual exercise. They are so busy making sure their technique is flawless for the two or three experts in the room that they completely bypass the hearts of the ninety-seven ordinary people who just came to encounter the Lord.

“And you know what else, Paddy? They forget how Jesus modeled ministry,” Grandpa said, his voice dropping to a serious, reverent tone. “Jesus didn’t spend His time locking Himself away in ivory towers with the religious elite of His day. He took His ministry straight to the streets. He went to the outcasts, the sinners, and the winebibbers—the everyday people who knew they weren’t perfect but desperately wanted to meet God. The high-and-mighty religious leaders looked down their noses at Him for hanging out with the ‘wrong’ crowd, but Jesus knew that the people on the street were the ones whose hearts were wide open to receiving the truth.

“Music was meant to be that same kind of common element to bring ordinary people, whom God considers extraordinary, together,” Grandpa continued, waving his dish towel for emphasis like a symphony conductor. “It’s the soundtrack to our lives, Paddy. The average guy does not usually say, ‘Ah, yes, when I first met your mother, Bach’s Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor was playing majestically in the background.’ No, that’s just not how human hearts connect!

“No, he usually says, ‘I was holding hands with your mother, gazing into her eyes as Jose Feliciano’s “Light My Fire” came on the radio,’ or ‘Herman’s Hermits “I’m into Something Good” came on the radio.’ It’s those simple, catchy, soulful melodies that stick to our ribs. They embed themselves into our memories because they capture a real, living moment of human connection. They belong to the people, not to a conservatory archive. When they look down their noses at simple, heartfelt melodies, they are looking down on the very things that bind us together as human beings. Music isn’t supposed to be an entry exam where you have to prove you’re smart enough or cultured enough to enjoy it. It’s supposed to be a bridge.”

Grandpa stood up straight, looking determined as he thought about the upcoming Sunday at the Church.

“This is exactly why when William Booth, later General Booth the founder of the Salvation Army, decided to take his ministry to the streets of London, he did something radical. He brought a bunch of children into his local parish, and because the children were rambunctious and dirty, the ‘proper’ Church people were terribly upset. Their Sunday best was apparently too holy for a little street grime. So General Billy followed the Lord’s example and went straight out to the streets where the people actually were, and furthermore, guess what music he used?”

“What?” I asked, tilting my head and letting out a soft, curious whine.

“Since he ministered right outside the bars, he took the actual bar songs the people of the street already knew by heart, and he reclaimed the lyrics for the Lord! He famously asked, ‘Why should the devil have all the good music?’ He knew that if you want to touch a man’s soul, you have to speak—and sing—in a language he understands. And you know what, Paddy? Many of our grandest hymns are old bar songs, traditional folk melodies, or tavern tunes that were baptized for the Kingdom. For instance:

·         “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded” – The melody for this deeply solemn passion hymn was originally a secular love song written by Hans Leo Hassler around 1600 called ‘Mein G’müt ist mir verwirret’ (‘My Peace of Mind is Shattered’), which folks sang in public taverns long before it was adapted for Sunday morning.

·         “What Child Is This?” – This beautiful Christmas carol completely borrows its melody from ‘Greensleeves’, which was a traditional, gritty English romantic ballad sung across British pubs and streets for generations.

·         “Amazing Grace” – While the words were written by John Newton, the famous tune we all know, ‘New Britain’, is deeply rooted in early American folk music traditions. It was the kind of melody passed down through working-class communities, sung on front porches and in local gatherings long before it ever saw a printing press.

“So, what about the organ dedication? What kind of music will be played?” I asked, looking up at Dad with my ears perked and my expectations high.

“Well, we need to celebrate,” Dad said, a big grin spreading across his face. “And we want to invite all our folks in the greater community to attend. So, I have invited a Church Organist by the name of Jeremy Boyer.”

“Wait! You are bringing in a Church organist?” I exclaimed, my tail completely dropping. “Dad, I thought we were going to rock and roll!”

“Well, if you give me a moment, Paddy,” Dad chuckled. “This Church organist for St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church in Oakville, Missouri, also happens to be the official Stadium organist for the St. Louis Cardinals and the St. Louis Blues!”

“Wow!” I barked, my tail instantly going back into high gear. “A stadium organist?!” I did a quick lap around the kitchen table. “I can wear my Cardinals shirt and ball cap!”

“Shh! Quiet down, Paddy!” Grandpa hissed, playfully putting a finger to his lips. “Remember Grandma is a die-hard Dodgers fan! I told you to keep that Cardinals shirt hidden in the back of the closet if you know what’s good for you!”

Once we cleared up the baseball diplomacy, Grandpa continued. “Yep, Paddy, even some Church organists have a ‘fun’ side. It’s just some of them are too shy to release it. But not Jeremy. And guess what? We are going to have a guest baritone voice, Charles Blesch, the Pocket City Powerhouse… The Baron of Baritone, but we will call him Chuck Blesch. He is going to start our program off with the National Anthem, Chicago Blackhawks Style!”

“You don’t mean...” I sat in absolute awe, my jaw practically hitting the kitchen linoleum.

“Yes, Paddy,” Dad smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I explicitly told Chuck and Jeremy I want the plaster falling off the Church ceiling and people running for their lives when that deep baritone voice hits the rafters! We want to shake the very foundations of the building with joy! Then Jeremy is going to follow right up with his famous medley called ‘The Charge’ that he plays in Busch Stadium to get tens of thousands of people up on their feet and cheering.”

I let out a joyful, echoing bark right there in the kitchen. Now that is how you dedicate an instrument! No stuffy elitism, no polite golfing claps—just pure, thunderous praise that the whole community will be talking about for years to come.

“So, no religious music at all?” I asked, looking up curiously.

“Oh, au contraire!” Grandpa muttered with a grin. “When we are in God’s Church, we sing the hymns as well. But when you hear Jeremy’s versions on those pipes, Paddy, you will be moved like the Apostle Paul straight into the Third Heaven!”

Grandma Carol might be away celebrating Max, but Dad and I knew this was going to be one historic party. I just have to remember to keep my Cardinals cap out of sight until September!

 

Pastor Jim Allen is the shepherd of Trinity Evangelical Church in Mount Vernon. Pastor Jim invites you to come and join us each Sunday morning worship at 10:10AM. Throughout the summer we also offer Church on the River each Sunday at 8am, through end of September at River Bend Park (except for June 7th and 14^th). Bring your dogs, pets, and even your in-laws! And don’t forget to CIRCLE THE DATE of Sunday afternoon, September 13^th (Time to Be Determined) for the Dedication Recital with Jeremy Boyer the organist of the St. Louis Cardinals and baritone guest soloist Charles Blesch.