Last year, I innocently wrote on this blog, “I can’t help but wonder where I will be working next Advent.” Now in the throes of the COVID 19 pandemic, perhaps I should have amended that “where” to “if,” as I haven’t yet been able to secure any employment. The whiplash-inducing rollercoaster of ever-changing government guidelines has been exhausting for us all, and the days when we can safely gather together to join in congregational worship once more still seem far off for many communities here in the States. I’ve felt very lucky therefore to have been able to drop in on some broadcasted services live-streamed from many of my colleagues in the UK. My thanks go especially to friends at Truro, Guildford, and Canterbury cathedrals for their superb musical offerings. While I am unable to personally play for carol services or Midnight Mass, at least I’ll be able to vicariously enjoy the most important parts of Advent and Christmas this year (i.e. the “Word” chord).
I’ve recently noticed that, just as a normal Advent in the context of the church carries with it its own routines and mile-markers (the Advent Carol service, Christingle and other school carol services, Gaudete Sunday, the daily opening of the Advent calendar), so does this season of unemployment and ~painfully expectant~ waiting, of which I’m currently in the midst. Rather than attending morning practice with choristers every day, now I go for an invigorating run in freezing temps to clear my mind and focus only on my stride and breathing. Instead of playing for or attending daily Evensong, now I emerge from the virtual world of screens every evening to share a cup of tea with my parents. Playing for weekly Sunday Eucharists is replaced by weekly Zooms with friends across the ocean and socially-distanced walks with one or two friends closer to home. And the most sacred two hours of my week now take place on a Thursday afternoon, when my small but generous neighborhood church opens its doors to allow me access to its organ. Finally, the days end not with Compline, but with the solemn refreshing of six or seven job website tabs, to see if perhaps that perfect full-time assistant organist job was posted in the last 24 hours.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have expected any of these things to be such important parts of my Advent routine, but this sort of organization brings me a powerful sense of stability, during a time when almost every aspect of my living and working situation is out of my control. I’m grateful to have been able to discover some silver linings to the pandemic, but I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge the struggles as well. I’ve found it hard to reconcile that this year, many of the aspects of Advent that I love most tend to trigger feelings of grief or sometimes even resentment. Perhaps it’s good that there is no opportunity to sing Lo! He comes or any Willcocks descants, because I would surely tear up too much to make much sound, anyway…
Well, Advent is all about expectation, right? I expect things will gradually get better - there are vaccines on the horizon as well as a new administration soon to be in the White House. In the meantime, I can’t wait for the day when I can see dear British friends again, perhaps over a curry with some quality ale after a long walk along the Cornish coast.
A view from a brisk morning run last week