By Lloyd Mackey

WHEN legendary Canadian jazz pianist Oscar Peterson died  December 23, all three national party leaders paid tribute to his memory.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper put it this way:

“Oscar Peterson rose from humble roots in Montreal’s Little Burgundy to storm the very heights of the music world. A technical and creative master, he toured the globe in the company of the finest jazz artists of his era.

“More than four decades later, The Canadiana Suite is secure as a signature element of the country’s cultural fabric. A Companion of the Order of Canada and recipient of a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award, Peterson was not simply a giant in Canadian music – but a giant in music, period.”

I can’t really describe myself as a jazz aficionado; but I do have an Oscar Peterson story to tell, from the mid-1970s. At that time, I was a staff writer for the United Church Observer.

One Sunday, Edna and I attended at worship at historic Bloor Street United Church in Toronto, where Bruce McLeod was senior minister.

McLeod was then moderator of the United Church of Canada; Wikipedia describes him as a “liberal evangelical Protestant,” and I think that captures the essence of this  accomplished orator. He could, like the apostle Paul, “be all things to all people – that by all means, he might save some.”

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On that particular Sunday, McLeod was preaching to a well-filled church on the topic of the best-selling book, Jonathan Livingstone Seagull. Older readers will recall that Jonathan allegorized the theme of freedom – of breaking the bonds of the traditional, and flying ever higher in the quest for abundant and fulfilling life.

McLeod had a surprise for us, hinted at only by the presence of the church’s grand piano at the centre of the altar area, where the communion table usually sat.

At the end of his homily, McLeod brought out Oscar Peterson, introduced him to the worshippers and sat him down at the piano. Then, he drew a sealed envelope from a briefcase, and placed it in the pianist’s hands.

He explained that it contained a piece of music – freshly written, and never before seen by Peterson.

It was a theme piece – just the basic score, without any of the frills. McLeod’s challenge to the crowd was to listen as Peterson, with his considerable improvisational skills, created several variations to the basic theme.

Create he did – and the worshippers appeared more than satisfied that he had taught them something about taking flight, engaging in a few risks and joyfully experiencing the variations of God’s great love.

February 2008