When I first arrived at All Saints as the assistant organist in Lent of 1998, Fr. Jarvis was the Priest-in-Charge. As a freshman in college at the time, I sometimes slept a little later than I should have on Sunday mornings, and as a result, one Sunday I showed up for mass unshaven. After I played the closing organ voluntary, I tried to sneak past Fr. Jarvis, who at that moment was greeting parishioners in the Tower – but he suddenly broke away from the conversation he was having to grab me by the forearm and say, “Young man, do you think you could find the time to shave before coming to mass?” Perhaps this is one reason why I have since grown a beard?

Fr. Jarvis loved sacred music with every fiber of his being. It clearly played a principal role in his spiritual life. When the choir sang during mass, he didn’t simply listen: he prayed. It was obvious to me that he felt a part of what the choir was doing. Last year, the choir sang a very simple motet by Mozart: his popular setting of “Ave verum corpus”. After mass, Fr. Jarvis took me aside to tell me that he knew exactly what stops I had used on the organ as I was accompanying the motet during the mass, just by listening. He knew that I had used the Clarinet stop on the Skinner organ, on an inner voice of the organ part, during the last two measures of the piece. This was no passive listening he was engaged in: he actively listened to every note, intently and prayerfully, letting it penetrate his soul.

Not only was Fr. Jarvis passionate about the Anglican choral tradition, he was also an ardent lover of congregational hymns, and I know that he had a great portion of the Hymnal committed to memory. I observed countless occasions when, as he processed into the chancel at the beginning of mass, he could confidently sing the hymn, without carrying a hymnal. He memorized the melody of the hymns, the texts, and, the tenor parts as well! He loved singing harmony on the inner verses of the hymns. He entered into worship with his whole body, mind, and soul: his devotion to our particular tradition was constantly evident.

I always craved Fr. Jarvis’ approval, and would try to seek him out after mass to determine if he had approved of the music that particular Sunday. When choosing the choral music and the hymns, I frequently asked myself “How will Fr. Jarvis react if I schedule this anthem/motet/hymn?” His encouragement meant the world to me, and I strove to keep the standard of music-making high enough to satisfy him, a priest who had been shaped by his experiences at St. John’s College in Cambridge (UK), which boasts one of the finest choirs in the world!

It became obvious to all of us who worked with him that Fr. Jarvis had a weakness for music from the Victorian period. In my time at Ashmont, I have uncovered and dusted-off a good number of Victorian hymns from the Hymnal. Whenever I did so, Fr. Jarvis would find me after mass, take hold of my arm and say “Ah, Queen Victoria would have felt right at home at today’s mass! Bravo, and keep it coming!” Since I knew from this that he loved Victorian music, I planned a setting of the Te Deum by a little-known American composer from that period (Arthur Foote) to be sung on Trinity Sunday a few years back. Not only was Foote active during the Victorian era, he was a Bostonian, included in the group of composers called the “Boston Six”, which included noted Victorian-era composers Horatio Parker and Amy Beach. Needless to say, I’d done my homework, and I assumed that Fr. Jarvis would be in raptures about that year’s setting of the Te Deum. Boy, was I wrong! “That has got to be the ugliest setting of the Te Deum I have ever heard in my whole life, and I hope you never do it again!” At least one always knew where one stood with Fr. Jarvis!

He expected excellence because he knew that excellence in liturgy helps to create an atmosphere of transcendence, which helps to draw the worshipper closer to God. I never heard Fr. Jarvis make an error in the chanting of the gospel, which he always did with such distinctive style. I got the impression that he took great pride in chanting the gospel, especially if that week’s portion included a question or two. When a question occurs in the chanting of the Gospel, the tone dips down a semi-tone for the duration of the question, and then slides back up to the reciting tone at the end of the question. He took great delight in executing those questions, and he expected everyone else who was involved in carrying out the liturgy to bring the same level of exactitude and presence to their roles as he always brought to his. And, who can forget his chanting of the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil? “This is the night…”

I thank God that I was able to walk a few steps of this earthly pilgrimage with Fr. Tony Jarvis, who made an indelible impression on me and my work. May we never forget his example of commitment, passion, and prayerfulness!

Andrew P. Sheranian