Saddle Sore: Call to reverence

The organ music was delightful, coming forth from the largest pipe organ on the Western Slope, perhaps in the entire state. The Aspen Community Church, holder of much of Aspen’s history since almost the beginning, played a critical and imperative role in the sesquicentennial celebration of Dr. Alber Schweitzer’s visit to Aspen and a celebration of his life in general.

The organist, of course, was not the noted organist Schweitzer, himself a renowned Bach interpreter, but Dr. James Welch, well-known organist and lover (should I say that lightly?) of J.S. Bach, classical composer who kept Schweitzer’s interest apparently above all others. As a matter of fact, Dr. Welch wrote his doctoral dissertation at Stanford on Schweitzer’s performances of 22 Bach organ pieces.

Listening to Welch’s Bach interpretation, my eyes closed, and my mind went through a myriad of family associations with the Community Church, which couldn’t be helped given the deep history of my family on all sides with the church. It was pulling the depths, the spirits of the people long deceased, one as young as two months, their souls lingering, whose final box was watched and wondered over as the religious incantations were delivered from the pulpit. In another sense, it was the slow bell of time echoing through the sanctuary. 

Personally, perhaps a looking at people as Schweitzer might have, not who they were in name or station in life, or even their religion, but rather as they were as people, neighbors, and their importance in the entire spectrum of the thread of life as they lived it in this area.

As Schweitzer once said — half-exasperated, half in awe — “Damn that Bach,” baffled by the genius he revered. Sitting there in the pews, I could only respond:

Damn that Schweitzer — for making me look at people who were so important in my life, looking at them in a different way. It likely couldn’t have happened anywhere else. 

Thank you, Dr. Schweitzer.

Sitting in the church pulpit with me was Paul Andersen, popular Aspen writer of 17 or so highly interesting books, long-time Aspen Times columnist, whose influence got me interested in trying to put thoughts down on paper. His latest, “Dr. Schweitzer at the Birth of the Aspen Idea,” was released on July 1, this week. Paul probably wishes I had read his book before writing this column.  

And as we left the church, steadfast pastor JR was there, being the proper host, wishing everyone good thoughts and experiences as we disbursed to the Aspen Historical Society’s Stallard House, for a great conversation about Dr. Schweitzer. Good friends, old friends, new friends, we all mingled amidst good food and drink as folks hoofed it down from the church, several blocks away. Schweitzer would have approved. 

Standing across the lawn, under the spreading branches of the tall pines, by herself, was a friend from years ago, a skiing buddy who helped me through some tough times, smiling from the past directly into the present. Gretchen, a woman who intrigued me for years, could not have appeared in a more appropriate place, at a more fitting time. 

There’s something about this Schweitzer philosophy. It doesn’t explain life. It makes you feel it — deeper, truer, and, sometimes, with just enough ache to let you know you’re still alive. It calls you to reverence, not with rules, but with memory — with music — and sometimes, with the quiet appearance of someone who once helped you find your way. 

Even if you don’t quite figure out Bach, or Schweitzer, or the woman smiling at you from across the lawn — you feel like you’re part of something bigger. And maybe that’s enough.

Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.