When a church became a school

It was the end of the school year, and that day I was immersed in a movement of a Beethoven sonata, a prelude and fugue by J. S. Bach, and a movement from Grieg’s concerto. I was in the final polishing stage of this repertoire in preparation for my upcoming piano exam. My goal was to play this repertoire as perfectly as possible. Then, a phone call interrupted my practice. The parish priest from my hometown wanted to speak with me. He was looking for an organist for the summer. Several weddings were scheduled at the church, and since the resident organist had had to leave, someone was needed to replace him. Ideally, an organist… but finding a substitute organist at the last minute for all the planned weddings was quite a challenge. So, could a piano student do the job? That was at least his hope. His request—one I did not dare answer immediately—left me perplexed. Had I ever played the organ before? The answer was no…

The appeal of novelty, curiosity, and truth be told, the prospect of earning a little money to cover my study expenses were tempting. At the same time, I didn’t want to play the impostor or claim to be an organist. So I called the priest back and told him that I would first need to get acquainted with the new instrument and see whether my piano skills could transfer to the organ. As for the repertoire… well, we would see.

The next day, I headed up to the church rood screen. I arrived at the church and climbed the narrow spiral staircase to reach the rood screen. The tall wooden walls, the floor creaking beneath each of my steps, and above all the imposing Casavant organ, with its long pipes rising toward the ceiling, all conveyed a sacred and rather intimidating atmosphere. I first activated the mechanism that makes the organ breathe loudly and sat down in front of the keyboards. I dared to play the first notes and was struck by the sound that emerged. I then tried a few chords and amused myself by discovering the stops to the left and right of the keyboards. The power of the sound was impressive and made the floor vibrate. The first contact was quite positive, even though I had little idea of what would follow.

I had been told that a singer was assigned to most of the weddings. The task would therefore mainly consist of accompanying the songs for the wedding ritual. I was also told to prepare a few solo organ pieces to fill the different moments of the ceremony. Oops… that meant I needed to find some organ repertoire, including, of course, the traditional wedding marches.

I felt reassured enough to accept the priest’s request, and I trained myself at the organ a few times. Then, rehearsals with the singer began. Ouch! That’s when the “putting my knowledge into practice” dimension really came into play. As a classical pianist, my work had consisted of learning and interpreting repertoire. My musical training had also included ear training, music theory, and keyboard harmony—all within an academic context. But now I was facing real-life practice, the actual application of my knowledge.

First rehearsal with the singer: unexpected surprise when she told me the song was a whole step too high, or perhaps actually a step and a half too high (!). So, to ensure she is comfortable, I had to step out of my own comfort zone and transpose quickly, with minimal information on the score, just to manage. Sometimes I had to lengthen an introduction or stretch out an ending so that the song would match the duration of a particular moment in the ceremony. And what about the harmony of the songs, which was sometimes written using jazz symbols? Although fairly simple, I still had to familiarize myself with that notation and occasionally correct it by rewriting the symbols in the transposed key. Then there was the task of organizing the harmony to give it a certain style: arpeggios, broken chords, Alberti bass…

I also learned to adapt to this singer, who made frequent use of transposition and rhythmic freedom, generously employing ritardando and rubato. In the end, we complemented each other quite well. She had a magnificent voice, an excellent ear—and I had the knowledge that I learned to bring to life, to take beyond the academic framework.

Today, looking back, I realize that this experience—which continued beyond the wedding season—gave me a great deal and allowed me to see that curiosity, flexibility, and adapting academic knowledge to such a concrete musical context is unique learning opportunities.

I see many pianists, students or teachers alike, who are frightened by the idea of having to accompany a song with nothing more than a chord progression, or of having to transpose a melody, even in a basic way. And today, when I teach, I remember this experience, because being a pianist also means being a musician.

I never became an organist, but I remember that the church had become a wonderful school!