I am reminded every time I enter this magnificent room that I too am just a continuing link in the much larger ongoing life of the Unitarian Church in Summit. It is baffling to contemplate the wisdom, understanding and immense talent of Joy Wheeler Dow, this building's architect, who so carefully thought out a golden rule design: where every detail of curve, angle, height, width and perspective was designed and built to careful proportions approaching the perfect ideal, indeed rooted in classicism, yet with a spirit refreshed with every new person who walks through the door. It is no accident that we love this room and respond to it in such a reverent way. I am sure this response was planned, made possible by a group of foreseeing individuals who vowed to create a sanctuary for a whole new world of religious thought in this mere room, only about 50 by 50 feet. Why, even look at the door and window hardware; like each person in a congregation, each detail was individually cast especially for its purpose, yet all work together as a complete artistic whole. It is as if Mr. Dow surely made a building reflective of the congregations that would fill this room time and time again in the years since 1908.

I remember my first visit, on a rainy Sunday morning in November over five years ago, when I entered this room, walked up the back stairs and beheld the Flentrop organ. Although you hear of such instruments, certainly off in Europe, it struck me immediately: Who are these people with this incredible room and the knowledge, foresight and sensibility (and yes, money) to convince old man Dirk Flentrop, the revered figurehead of the finest organ-building family in the world for probably 200 years, to put off his retirement for an extra year-and-a-half to complete this instrument, even while installing his namesake organ in Duke University Chapel? Many of you remind me still of your astonishment when I reported a few years ago on the current appraisal of the organ, anticipating its much- needed restoration. Even the detractors who thought the installation of the instrument back in 1976 was ludicrous admitted defeat when we found out that the $60,000 or $70,000 investment then was now valued at somewhere around a half-million! I wondered then at, and I still am baffled by, this mere small congregation and the demand for the best you can get.

Well, I was hooked on this place, I guess like so many are, when I first heard the organ -- it seems to say it all. I am not sure many of you know, but back in 1993 I had informed this church search committee, so eagerly looking for a music director, that I had given up on church music and wanted nothing more to do with the profession or the institution. After completing my doctorate at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, N.Y., I had sold most of my belongings, including my beloved red pickup truck, packed up a U-Haul van with my harpsichord, a few clothes and some $60,000 of student loans, and headed for the bright lights of the big city. Waiting for me was a fellowship in church music at a prestigious Episcopal church a mere two blocks from Lincoln Center. I relished it: "Imagine, me finally in the big league!" I was to assist a prominent music director in the finest music program we could imagine, he told me, one that had been in place for over a hundred years. That was a church that supported not only a fine choir, orchestra and soloists program for its services, but reached out to the community by offering its space for emerging young talent to perform publicly free of charge, hoping to be discovered. That church was so helpful and encouraging to young artists and performers. It was their mission, for few people realize how difficult it really is to burst onto the New York music scene without sufficient backing. That church's only requirement for help was for one to be their best, in exchange for immeasurable financial assistance, assurance and support. And back then, I, for one, was certainly ignorant of the New York music scene. They never told me in doctorate music school that you rented Carnegie Hall to play your debut; I had thought one was indeed discovered and that all would be made well with diligence and "practice makes perfect." "Hang in there, kid," I heard friends tell me, "you'll make ends meet -- just keep doing what it is that you do." Well, after arriving at the church on 69th Street, I quickly learned the hard way of the politics of the arts, particularly those of the church. Unannounced, the minister, along with his team of lawyers and accountants, suddenly led the church council to disband all programs that were deemed "unnecessary" and "draining on the church's financial stability." People were fired right and left, and struggling musicians were suddenly faced with thousands of dollars in expenses for performing in the church sanctuary, or even in the cheaper-fee basement. A program which had run on almost the same appropriated budget for many years was gone overnight. The music director of 30-some years was heartbroken over his career that was suddenly called unnecessary and extravagant. I was left in the cold, faced eviction from my small apartment, and had no foreseeable future beckoning. But I guess that church got what it wanted, or what it deserved: basic bland services, a mere three people on the payroll, and finally what they perceived to be financial stability. Yet the congregation spoke back, silently, as they will, as they always do -- they stopped coming. What had been a thriving congregation with packed services, a flow of money, unbelievable music, social ministries, soup kitchens, you name it, was suddenly reduced to no outreach programs, an amateur organist, no choir or soloists, a single secretary, a volunteer janitor, and a single minister -- housed in a beautiful new penthouse on Central Park West.

Then I heard of The Unitarian Church in Summit, N.J., from a good friend and fellow musician from Montclair. But even before I interviewed here, I found out through careful investigation that "Oh, that church is different, special." In my profession, one of the most telling factors of the success of a music program is the duration of its directors. The impossible pressure of the job, what usually is trying to "please all of the people all of the time," generally causes a turnover in positions every few years. What was I to think to find a church where the previous music director had served for 14 years, the one before that some eight years, the one before that some six years (only because her husband was called away for a job in Asia; I hear she was in tears)? Something must be here, I remember thinking. Maybe church is not so bad.

Often I am asked why I am so passionate and, I admit, demanding about the music program here. Well, to sum it up: This could be the most marvelous situation if we could get everyone to support it and be involved. "I've never been to a church like this! I've never felt so part of the world," I heard an 80-year-young woman exclaim after having heard an African drummer play his ubonga with his right hand and shake a dried rattlesnake with his left hand from over in that corner. "A little utopia, like a stately court chapel from history," a now-deceased friend once called this place, after having bribed an orderly from Overlook Hospital, where he was dying, to drive him in the back of a beat-up old Buick to the service where we dedicated two recently donated antique violins in a grand concert of music by his favorites, Bach and Handel, with our own resident Baroque orchestra.

For music to be effective anywhere, it requires true artistic devotion, sponsorship and sensibility in creation, performance, comprehension, and an understood reverence for its power to move the soul. As David Bumbaugh (I guess that name will keep being quoted around here for a while) wrote for the lid painting of the church's recently donated harpsichord: "Music speaks truths for which there are no words."

Today, out of an embarrassment of riches, I usually try to keep quiet in bragging about this church and mainly let the visiting performers exclaim: "Wow, these people are different," "What an opportunity to play in," "Thank goodness there's someplace like this left in the world." These are remarks made by the finest players I know, who perform here not for the astronomical sum of $150 they usually receive, but because they tell me that it rejuvenates faith that their art is important -- that they are important. You see, an artist indeed sacrifices almost everything of worldly comfort for their craft; we are rarely rewarded with riches or stability -- it is truly a hand-to-mouth existence. Yet in a life that is so hard, kind words, generous applause, sincere appreciation and, yes, a little money for work well done can re-warm the confidence and send musicians back out of these doors to conquer the world. Simply, this church gives us all purpose -- performers and listeners alike.

I am continually astounded at whom this congregation is made up of, and I certainly can understand why music is so essential to your spirituality. No mere passive listeners here, this congregation demands excellence: to seek out and lure the finest talents for the finest program WE ALL can dream of. All styles, all types of performers, all kinds of instruments -- everyone is welcome: the only requirement is to give your very best. What a marvelous mission! Imagine the sense of responsibility and self-worth we give artists and ourselves as well. This church can instill a sense of pride in oneself, which is so rare in today's understanding. While it would be easy to cite glitzy examples such as Leontyne Price and Sherill Milnes coming to services to hear their students perform (yes, I was told that they both sat in the same spot there, by the middle columns -- best seat in the house), or even the times when the folk music hero Pete Seeger has been here, actually one of my favorite stories is that of a young man who played in our own youth orchestra program last year. We decided that the young performers were going to dress for the occasion, inspiring them for greatness. Some people felt that this was "pressure" for the young people and they most certainly would revolt. But as an example of the pride which we'd stirred in these youngsters approaching the performance, this young man, a tuba player from the back row, put together his own outfit of dark trousers, white shirt, etc., and pestered and nagged his mother, apparently to the point of her insanity, for a new pair of dress shoes to wear for the Sunday services performances -- a point she continually thanks me for, since she had never been able to force him out of his sneakers. Imagine such a sense of pride, self-worth and team spirit! It set the tone for the success of the entire group -- and all this from the lone tuba player in the back row.

It is no easy task preparing each week for our services, as any of you who have worked with me can attest. I am fortunate to have a congregation that I think really understands what it takes for me to try to work toward the highest level of excellence. It is no accident. Yet it always seems to astound some people when they find out that, yes, I practice four to five hours every day -- often here at the organ, playing slowly with a metronome tick-tick-ticking away a careful slow beat for me to try to comprehend my material. And yes, there are often "Damn its!" with the books going across the room -- you people are a tough crowd to sell!

But preparing a varied repertoire, a well-rounded buffet, is no easy matter. (It's not just open the book and pick a song to entertain you.) Here amidst this congregation are trained musicians, many professional, some retired from major symphony orchestras, a few with distinguished solo and chamber music careers. I can immediately think of at least two families who sponsor foreign students at Juilliard. This church currently has two youngsters from the congregation serving in principal chairs in the Greater Newark Youth Orchestra -- one the first woman in such a position! At this church's Alliance Holiday Party this Tuesday, we will welcome our custodian, Steven Le (who is a composition and piano major at Montclair University), and his nephew, who has just been accepted to the Juilliard Prep program for piano. And especially, we have some of this community's most celebrated and sought-after piano, instrumental and academic music teachers. But also among us are many important community leaders who make things happen (if you know what I mean!), both in leadership and financial support. WHAT AN AUDIENCE! It is exactly what the friend who gleefully recommended this job to me said: "It's not like other places, Ken, they really listen."

If you will indulge me, although in preparing this talk I considered so many situations which enrich my work here, two instances recently reaffirmed my commitment to lead the finest music program for this church. On a recent trip to New York to try out a new piano being considered for this sanctuary, a church member on the committee sat down to try out the instrument herself, and to everyone's delight played a ravishing and mostly unknown piece by the American composer Charles Tomlinson Griffes, about whose music she was passionate. Her beautiful performance stirred us all; everyone was enraptured. Even the builders' technicians came out from the back to ask, "This is a lady in your congregation? How do you withstand the challenge?"

The other instance: Earlier this fall, I was stopped by a friendly face at coffee hour, asking for a moment of my time. This father had wanted to speak with me to bid farewell from his family, whom I had only seen a couple times. Although I was mostly acquainted with his two sons, whom I often invited to the organ to try out their latest pieces by Mozart, I knew the family to greet and speak to casually. Apparently these visits inspired those boys to continue their music lessons; what had formerly been a curse to them was now a world of discovery, and apparently it showed likewise in all their schoolwork, as it always does. The father wanted to tell me that he and his wife were particularly thankful for the "glorious music in this church" and that they would "never forget the kindness, knowledge and respect" which I extended to their children. Although they were relocating for a time to London for Dad's work, they most certainly planned on returning and hoped that I would be here when they got back.

You see, my work here is music, life and ministry. I guess you can tell I am passionate about it. This church makes it happen -- and has made it happen for so many before me who have served as directors, so many in our soloist, choral and orchestral programs, and will for so many performers yet to visit. This program is an inheritance of immense value, a genuine center for fine art and understanding -- cherished, loved, sustained, challenged and encouraged to grow. YOU make it happen -- completely, not indirectly. Mere token $100 checks to get your name on a list, or two-faced compliments like "My, wasn't that pretty," don't happen here. Why, the biggest fans of wild, far-out contemporary music have been our old ladies -- and they call the young people "prudes" when they complain. You folks especially understand that, as Dolly Levi said with great wisdom in the opening scene of "Hello, Dolly": "Mr. Van der Gelder, money is like manure. It's only good for anything if you spread it all around, encouraging things to grow."

So far, my biggest compliment came in October when, after seeing my new "racy" production of Pergolesi's "Stabat Mater," one longtime member (an elderly lady only in age) proclaimed, "Hell, racy -- it's not even abstract, but avant garde maybe, but that's good for us." And another new member whose judgment I respect immensely reviewed the performance as: "It's just like discovering this church -- walking from dark to light, out with the old to a newfound freedom of thought. I got it! And it's magical that everybody else does too!" She continued, "Just like great art's purpose, this church inspires AWE: going beyond oneself to a new level of human understanding."

As I described in my advertisement for this talk, Frank Lloyd Wright said that for one of his buildings to be truly effective, a visitor must be changed after entering it. He acknowledged that architects and orchestra conductors, and I would like to add organists, are only given the opportunity to do their art when someone believes in them and gives them the chance. He hoped so diligently: "If they find, if they care, if they will." Talent, dedication and enthusiasm will serve one well only if one is lucky enough to "be in the right place at the right time."

Hearing David Bumbaugh's final sermon from this pulpit last week after 10 years of service sparked many thoughts about my own ministry in this church, to this congregation, to the Summit community, for I begin my sixth year here this January. I must tell you that, like David, I too quite often sit up on that organ bench between the musical portions of the service, fantasizing about what my big, final show-stopper might be -- as the good reverend put it, "an apostolic summing up of all my passions and convictions into one masterpiece." I was touched to realize that in his final talk, he hit on several genuine truths of religious spirituality in our lives. Most meaningful to me was his final piece of advice about the religious venture. To me, it magnified my own beliefs about music as art -- as spirituality -- as religion. Allow me to read you a simple adaptation of that truth, substituting music, or perhaps any of the fine arts, for religion or spirituality:

"I would remind you that integrity is central to the musical life. This means that you need to have a clear understanding of who you are; of the tradition in which you stand; of what matters to you and why. This means that central to your musical life is clarity about what is so important in your life that you dare not compromise it lest you sacrifice your own soul. You as an individual and the church as an institution will find that as you are clear about who you are and what you believe and what values you serve and what boundaries you respect, the opportunities for dialogue and cooperation with those of differing faiths will increase and move beyond pious platitudes into genuine respect. There is no place in this world for music in general. Music in general quickly degenerates into one more aspect of the entertainment industry. But music which is structured around a core of values, around a stubborn integrity, has the power to transform the world. And that, after all, is what music is all about -- the transformation of the world."

I was privileged to be part of a recent series of rallying concerts for the United Nations Peace Initiative in New York, but in preparing some very difficult and appropriately impressive music for this high-profile event, I honestly wondered what impact a mere music concert might have at a rally for peace, or who would even show up to such an event. But in the middle of the performance, the ambassador from Ghana got up to read a letter from a poor music school teacher in his country that begged him to tell the assembly that "if for one moment the world could stop fighting to listen to a beautiful piece of music and lay aside all strife, they would never go back to violent means." My response suddenly was: My God! Music does have a purpose! All of a sudden my eyes and ears were reopened -- from a mere performer to a member of the world community. I looked around the assembly hall, which was indeed filled to capacity: prestigious world leaders visibly moved by the event; along the back wall, janitors standing with their mops; security officers trying to see around the corners and through windows; cooks and servers from the banquet hall; and so many children from the U.N. school resting on the shoulders of nearby adults so that they could see the orchestra and hear the sincere message of peace and understanding so well explained in a scribbled letter from a humble music teacher in one of the world's poorest situations. Most performers were suddenly overwhelmed with their mission; tears welled up in most eyes. Now more than ever, music would be no mere entertainment. It would be the world's beautiful song of peace, understanding and truth.

Every day I am reminded of the wise philosophy of my beloved old teacher at the Eastman School of Music. During the first of our weekly 7:30 a.m. studio organ classes for his 20 pupils (and I am certainly not a morning person), the revered David Craighead himself suddenly pointed a finger at me, one of the two new students accepted that year, and in his inevitable way questioned, "Young Ken Hamrick, why do we play music?" Dumbfounded from having endured the strenuous auditions, examinations and the like to get into such a class, I quickly searched my thoughts for the meaningful answer that I knew was there, yet I suddenly could not find. I must have stood there for what seemed like eternity with a mighty stupid look on my face, for Mr. Craighead quickly, as usual, seized the opportunity to proselytize: "We play music to change people's lives! And class, don't ever forget that."

To this day I can still hear his voice.

The sermon in a Unitarian Universalist setting is never the last word on any subject, but rather an invitation to further dialog.

You may want to read other visitors' comments on Kenneth J. Hamrick III's "The Changing Face of Beauty " .

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