A pastor who is also a jazz trombonist tells the story of how living out who he is brings people together in serendipitous ways.

I am a redeemed child of God by vocation. I am a parish pastor of an ELCA congregation by occupation. However, I express myself best through music — my own creations and the music of others. My clearest articulations are made through singing in the assembly, scat singing in a jazz club, presenting my own Scripture-based lyrics to a popular jazz tune, or playing the trombone anywhere. Because of this, as a follower of Jesus I engage myself in doing jazz in the public arena as often as I can. On most weekends I sit in with the house band at Trio’s Jazz Club and Restaurant in downtown South Bend, Indiana, and I teach a jazz class, “Jazz: Ear Candy for the Soul,” for senior citizens on Monday mornings at the Forever Learning Institute and Little Flower Roman Catholic Parish, also in South Bend.

Phil Doyle (right), saxophonist, and Kurt Schweitz (center), upright bassist perform at Lutheran School of Theology’s “Jazz at the Sem” on Oct. 28, 2007 in Chicago, IL (Credit: Dirk van der Duim, photographer).

Teaching Jazz
David and Joanie McLellan took my class two years ago in the spring. David particularly liked the big band dance music — Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, and the like. David would also ask thoughtful questions: “What’s the difference between East Coast and West Coast jazz?” and “When did the big bands fall out of favor?” The class took a trip in May 2006 — 22 of us — to the Green Mill Lounge in Chicago to see the Patricia Barber trio play. We stayed for one set and got back to South Bend at 1:30 a.m.

Being Pastor
David called me in late October. I thought he was calling to find out if I was teaching a jazz course in the spring, but his message was sad and shocking. “PC (short for Pastor Cobbler), I’ve just come from seeing the doctor, and I have pancreatic cancer. I have but a few months to live, and I wondered if you would be willing to preside at my funeral. I don’t know how my family would like it, but I want you to play some jazz.” Of course I would preside at his funeral, I told him — I knew that David had no church home and Joanie was a disaffected Roman Catholic. After the phone conversation I simply sat in my car, tears streaming down my face.

The following Wednesday we met at their home to plan the funeral. David and Joanie told me about their love for one another; David’s love for animals, especially strays; their love for their two adult children; their commitment to lifelong learning; choosing Scripture texts for the service; and their plans to meet family needs after his death. David also enjoyed railroads and railroad history, having worked for the New York Central Railroad in his early adult life. When we talked about jazz, David thought “When the Saints Go Marching In” might be a little too much for his relatives to bear, though it would be fine by him. I suggested, “Maybe a ballad — maybe something by Ella (Fitzgerald).” I didn’t have a particular tune in mind, but I figured something could be found in what we musicians call the “Great American Songbook.” David would leave it up to Joanie and me.

The call came on January 12, 2008. “PC, David died today. Is it okay to have the funeral on Saturday?” Of course, Saturday would be fine, I say. I wonder out loud to Joanie what tune to play on the trombone. She says any tune would be fine, but I will meet with her on Tuesday to confirm the content of the funeral service.

For a reason I still cannot explain, Georg Neumark’s hymn “If You But Trust in God to Guide You” (ELW 769) kept popping into my head — especially stanza one, as follows:

If you but trust in God to guide you
With gentle hand through all your ways,
You’ll find that God is there beside you
When crosses come, in trying days.
Trust then in God’s unchanging love;
Build on the rock that will not move.¹

Neumark’s melody and the English translation of his words were on my mind for three days. When I met with Joanie, I also knew what jazz tune to recommend.

Dancing Together
On the day of the funeral I warmed up on the trombone at home and looked over the words of a W. Morgan Lewis jazz tune I had chosen—“How High the Moon.” The Lewis tune and the Neumark hymn start with similar melodies, and so I knew I had to “play the words” of the jazz tune and the words of the hymn. I also thought that jazz followers would likely recognize the tune I was playing without necessarily knowing the words. Following my homily, I played the melody of “How High the Moon” to the lyrics by Nancy Hamilton:

...Somewhere there’s heaven
How high the moon...²

Georg Neumark and Nancy Hamilton have kissed one another; Ella Fitzgerald and W. Morgan Lewis have met together; Saturday night has embraced Sunday morning; and David McLellan is dancing in heaven, awaiting his beloved Joanie’s arrival. Joanie is still dancing here on earth — at the Forever Learning Institute class on Hawaiian dancing. That class meets at the same time as my jazz class on Monday mornings. She expresses herself best through dancing.

Michael Cobbler is pastor of Hilltop Lutheran Church of the Ascension, South Bend, Indiana, and a very cool jazz trombonist.