I played the organ at Hillcrest Church last Sunday.

Some years All Saints (November 1st) and Remembrance Day (November 11th) get separate commemorations. In 2023 Remembrance Day (Nov 11th) falls on a Saturday, making it logical to combine the All Saints celebration of Nov 1st with Remembrance Day Sunday November 5th. It makes sense though, as they’re fundamentally similar in some ways.

The Saints we remember on November 1st aren’t just the biblical celebrities who we know as a name plus the word “Saint”. It’s also a time to recall the pillars of a church, the older members who have built and sustained the community.

For Remembrance Day we’re speaking of those who participated in wars, perhaps in support roles, driving, nursing, helping, perhaps in active combat, at sea, in the air or in the trenches.

Perhaps it’s because of this funny combination celebration in 2023, that I notice how the hymn For All the Saints hints at a kind of spiritual war in sainthood, speaking to both kinds of sainthood. The tune from Ralph Vaughan Williams lures the organist to play quickly. I believe the congregation appreciate my restraint in not rushing, as it’s not a race. And the words are more intelligible if we don’t go too fast. We lose the opportunity to meditate on the text when we go too fast.

Hillcrest Order of Worship for Sunday November 5th includes the names of congregation members who served in the wars. It brought tears to my eyes realizing that this was the first service in awhile that I would see so many names of friends who were gone, people who were both the pillars of the church and those in active service in wartime.

I remember Bruce Carruthers, with his big handshake and deep voice.

I recall Wally Legge, a friendly photographer with a gentle voice and a ready smile.

And Henry Condie, whose wife Rae regularly read from the pulpit including services where she read In Flanders Fields.

I miss them and others whose voices made music reading from the pulpit, stirring us while reminding us of so much. The Saints of a congregation are also the saints we recall for their service on Remembrance Day. Bruce, Wally, Henry (aka “Hank”) served in WW II, served at Hillcrest where they were friends and avid supporters of the church. And they are now gone.

My mind wanders in the corridors of memory, recalling University of Toronto Schools (UTS) History and English teacher Stewart H Bull, long associated with our cadet corps, but truly inseparable in my understanding of November 11th and Remembrance Day. You could see evidence of his service, one eye that was real. One that was not. I see on his obituary that he was “severely wounded in Normandy in 1944”.

On November 5th in church we had no trumpet for The Last Post or Reveille, so I played these pieces on the organ during the service, with Mr Bull’s lecture in my heart, when he explained the ritual to us in Christian terms. When The Last Post sounds you are going to bed, going to sleep: with no certainty that you will be there in the morning. In wartime, bombardments might prevent you from seeing the sun in the morning. Mr Bull spoke of the meanings of silence, as one waits. It was my first taste of real meditation.

When you hear Reveille you’re called to wake up. It is a typological echo of resurrection, as we’ll hear in Mahler’s 2nd Symphony, the signal not just of the next morning but rebirths.

Playing these pieces one might wish to imitate a trumpet. I did my best last Sunday not to sound too much like an organ, and thank goodness there’s a cornet stop and a trumpet stop to choose from. I found the Hillcrest organ’s “cornet’ sounds like an organ, while the “trumpet” stop is closer. The way I phrase it is also a factor. If I play too quickly I’m sounding like a keyboardist showing off. Slower is more like a trumpet.

My lesson from Barkley was in June.

I made a silly mistake in the yard. He’s so cute when he’s chasing chipmunks or squirrels or mice. He’s a cute carnivore with sharp teeth. I made the mistake of trying to stop him while hunting.

He sank his teeth into my hand, reminding me of the value of patience. I sat patiently in the emergency ward at Scarborough General, waiting quietly for someone to patch me up, even though this wasn’t war merely foolishness with my beloved pet. And since June I’ve been working to recapture my speed at the keyboard, while discovering other ways to be musical.

On Sunday November 5th I played an organ reduction of Nimrod by Elgar as the postlude, a slow piece that doesn’t require quick fingers. Our prelude was a slow improvisation on Eternal Father Strong to Save, a hymn that always reminds me of JFK’s funeral. Slower music is better for remembrance and meditation.

Barkley’s teeth forced me to rethink how I play. In the process I’m being less of a show-off and more of a curator of thoughtful music, while I wait to see if I will ever get my chops back.

Playing the Last Post a bit slower made it more meditative which seems appropriate for Remembrance Day.