TYLER AND JARED

Two men.  One my age, almost exactly.  One just barely a man. . . . . maybe early 20's.

Jared I've spoken about.  Born in the same year I was.  Virtuoso organist.  Child prodigy.  This year he's my boss and my choir director and my friend.

Tyler. . . stage hand.  He's tall and lean and warm and friendly.  Most even- tempered young guy ever. He is all smiles, and positive energy.  Never says no to any request.  Does everything with a smile on his face.   Turns out in addition to working full time on the stage crew in the amp, he also lives on a farm.   And by the time he gets here in the morning he's been up for hours doing his chores.  Also turns out he has a pet bull which he recently rode in a bull-riding contest locally.  He won 5th place.  When asked how he got his "pet" bull to be angry enough to try to throw him off, he explained that the cinch around the middle for the saddle irritates a bull's "privates" in ways that make him "out of sorts" in the extreme!   The things I learn at Chautauqua.

So these two guys, Jared and Tyler played a part in a brief drama this morning during church that was one of the most wondrous things I've seen up here.  And if you've been reading for the last couple of years, you know that there is no dearth of wondrous things to see up here.

So the choir files into the choir loft for the daily church service.  I noticed right off that sitting in the front row this morning was none other than Andrew Young, civil rights activist, former UN Ambassador, former Atlanta mayor.  He spoke this afternoon.  It was a thrill to sing for him!  But that wasn't the amazing thing (imagine. . .that NOT being the amazing thing!).

Apparently after the opera production last night in the Amp, all the microphones and hook-ups were all catty-wompus.  Which meant that the choir member who was supposed to be the scripture reader and who was supposed to read the scripture from the choir loft using a floor microphone, was going to be unable to do that.  Which was not discovered until after the service had started.

Now having set that scenario, let me digress a minute. . . As most of you know, I was an organ major in college.  I only started playing the organ my freshman year because I needed a minor.  I wasn't that good on piano which was my major!  But I loved organ from the start and just wanted to practice it all the time.  So I switched it to my major in the middle of my freshman year.  And then switched to a performance major at the end of my freshman year.   Learning the organ is difficult.  What I found most difficult was playing hymns.  You had to play the bass line with your feet, and I just wasn't that experienced.  So playing in church services was always a source of huge amounts of anxiety.  I know, now that I'm 63, that if I had played for years and years, I would have eventually become a competent hymn player.  But I quit altogether before I could get there.

So here comes Jared.  Our service books for the daily services has hundreds of hymns.  At least 60% of them are printed with only the words. . . no music.  Jared plays all of those by memory, or maybe by ear - probably a little of both. Which means he's only looking at words when he plays.  He modulates keys, improvises between verses, plays them in different styles and moods depending on the service.  For someone like me who struggled so badly with hymn playing, to see this guy do this with such ease and virtuosity and creativity is a marvel of nature each and every service.

So back to the story.   Poor sweet, sensitive, competent Tyler was faced this morning with a microphone that didn't work.  He needed to let the choir member who was going to read the scripture know that the mike didn't work.  He didn't know which choir member it was, and we were already in the loft for the service.  His only option, as he saw it, was to go out on the stage and ask Jared, who was at the organ, to tell him which choir member he needed to see.   Jared, by that time, had launched into the introductory verse of the hymn.  One of the ones that has words only.  He's about 6 bars into it and here comes our own little sweet cowboy, Tyler, creeping on the stage and around the organ.  Jared does not skip one single beat.  He sees Tyler, looks him directly in the eye as Tyler asks about the choir member.  Jared then turns his head 180 degrees up to the choir to see where Mary Ellen is sitting, turns back to Tyler and describes to him where she is sitting, at which time Tyler turns and sneaks back off the stage.   The whole time he is having this CONVERSATION his hands and feet continue to play the hymn.  We are up in the choir loft watching all this go down with our mouths dropped to the floor. Once Tyler has gone, Jared just continues to the end of the verse, cranks up the volume and leads the congregation into the singing.

For me who struggled with hymn playing this is like watching a miracle.  It certainly drives home the notion that there are certain gifts that people get at birth that will remain a mystery to others.  Most people in the congregation missed this exchange.  And maybe no one who wasn't a musician would have appreciated the unbelievable demonstration of talent that it represented.

I've seen big stuff here. . . . . big stars,  operas, New York level plays, international celebrities, breathtaking virtuosity and talent.  But nothing I've seen anywhere can eclipse that 30 seconds of magic brought to us by Tyler and Jared.