Category Archives: Humor

A Reason to Hope

On Friday last my family and I had the happy pleasure of attending the wedding of the eldest son of some close friends of ours who are part of our local Catholic home school community, and today I thought I would share with readers a few of the impressions I had throughout the evening. I do this simply to offer hope to those who struggle so valiantly each day in their own families and places of work to build up the Church, and who, as a result, are sometimes tempted to despair at a culture that seems hell-bent (I use that phrase purposely) on destroying itself and everyone in it. We need to remember how small the amount of yeast is that is needed to leaven the dough.

Besides the fact that the weather proved a beautiful and sunny 70-something degree day and the trees had just finished coming into leaf, the first thing I noticed was the vast number of children—there were children everywhere. Half the guests at this fairly large wedding had to have been children. I was struck by their numbers. There was a large meadow behind the reception hall and throughout the evening there was forever a group of at least 30 to 40 children running around playing games, and there were no parents hovering around telling them to be careful or to watch out. They were simply having fun and their vitality was palpable.

The second thing I noticed was that all of these children came from their original two parent homes and had fathers and mothers who were actively involved in their lives. They were beautiful (and often large) Catholic families. At the reception I noticed a number of mothers (with babies) talking, often with other high school daughters nearby. The same could be said of the fathers, with their high school sons close at hand. Best of all, I don’t really remember anyone sitting around hooked into technology or constantly checking their social media accounts.

I felt (and continue to feel) blessed to be part of such a group, a group that will undoubtedly provide our next generation of priests, religious and Catholic families, and possibly even spouses for my children.

Lest anyone think the evening was a walk through the daffodils, I should tell you that there was a “Smore’s Bar” complete with open flames and wooden roasting skewers, which any resourceful two-year-old could have gotten, and did get, hold of. Parents, you haven’t lived until you have tried to navigate a crowded room with young children in possession of what looked like wooden knitting needles (only much sharper), melting chocolate (which by this time was all over their hand and my clothes) and fiery marshmallows! It would be better to describe the evening as organized chaos.

The wedding itself was beautifully and reverently celebrated and I hope I can say the music added to the solemnity of the day.

From what I read and hear, this situation is currently being played out in many other small communities throughout our corner of the world—a new springtime of Faith. I don’t pretend that there won’t be difficulties or even persecutions (our Lord promised us both) but I do have reason to hope, and this hope leads to joy, which should be the mark of every Christian.

Where Have All of the Organists Gone?

Sunday mornings can be very interesting in the Tappan household, depending on the amount of sleep our boys granted us the previous night and on the speed at which we can locate all shoes and socks. If it was a really great night, we might attend the earliest Mass as a family, when I play the organ, as opposed to the later Masses when I direct the choirs. On these days, our oldest son knows that he gets to sit with dad at the organ bench and turn on the organ and pull stops, something he really enjoys and does fairly well. Talk about proud dad moments! Sometimes I have to remind myself that he is only three years old. This was somewhat comically brought home to me last December during a Mass for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, when he decided to make his organ playing debut.

He sat next to me as I softly accompanied the psalm verses of the Responsorial Psalm, waiting for me to point to a stop and give him the signal to pull. All of a sudden he dropped a pencil he had been holding in his hand and my world went into slow motion as I watched him jump down onto the pedals (of course I had some loud pedal stops pull out for the psalm refrain) to retrieve it. I immediately when into one-handed playing mode (perfected several years before when I broke my elbow) and grabbed for him frantically with my other hand. My wife jumped up from her pew, still nursing our youngest son, to do the same, while the cantor struggled to get through the verse without chuckling. Father told me he, too, had to chuckle when he looked up at the choir loft and saw what was going on.

I bring up this story because it relates to the vicissitudes of one of the forgotten duties of the parish organist—recruiting more organists. We all know there aren’t many. I remember listening several years ago as a priest told me in desperation he couldn’t even find a guitarist to strum three chords at his parish, much less an organist. If we want organists for the Church in the future, we must recruit them. When a young child comes up and shyly watches you playing your postlude, do you invite him to try push down a few keys when you are finished or do you just close up shop? Do you pull out the trumpet stop and tell him to press down the lowest pedal note and hold it? Do you tell him to try out the swell pedal and watch as the shades open and close? When you ask him if he wants to run his fingers over the keys and instead he plays the first few notes of Fuer Elise to hear what it sounds like, do you immediately chide him for playing secular music in church or do you ask God to understand that it is one of His little ones excitedly trying out the big “piano” in church? Do you offer to teach organ playing to children in your parish who possess a decent piano proficiency (and no, there is nothing wrong with requiring remuneration for this)? If mothers and fathers stopped having children, family life would die in one generation. What will you do to keep the art of organ playing alive?

The Choirmaster

The Choirmaster stood at the pearly gates
His face was worn and old,
He stood before the man of fate
For admission to the fold.
“What have you done,” Saint Peter said
“To gain admission here?”
“I’ve been a Choirmaster, sir,” he said,
“For many and many a year.”
The pearly gates flew open wide
Saint Peter touched the bell.
“Come in,” he said, “and choose your harp
You’ve had your share of hell.”

Anonymous (20th century, quoted from A Guest at Cambridge, 1998)