 Image by Nicole Rose from Pixabay This week I will take my cue from the silent stars and let the words by Herman G. Stuempfle Jr. for one of my favorite Epiphany songs do the talking through its rich imagery. Thomas Keesecker portrays this imagery beautifully in the accompaniment for his choral anthem that weaves this text with three tunes associated with other hymns for Epiphany. We see the star the wise men saw and hope again is stirred. We track the footprints left in time by your incarnate Word. We see them climb a lonely hill where Love is left to die-- the Love that formed the farthest star and hears the faintest cry. -Herman G. Stuempfle Jr. © 1997 GIA Publications Inc. Used by permission. OneLicense.net # A-709014 Marshall
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 Image by NoName_13 from Pixabay This week I will just share the text of my favorite Christmas hymn. It is one that encapsulates what Christ's birth means so eloquently. The text is by Jaroslav J. Vajda. He was a Lutheran pastor in the Cleveland area whose translations of Slavic hymns have been in widespread use in hymnals of various denominations. This one is not a translation, but one of the hymns Vajda wrote that is often paired with the tune SCHNEIDER by Paul Manz, a well-loved organist who also was from the Cleveland area. No pomp and circumstance or the mess we've made of it through layers of traditions for tradition's sake, just a poignant text to a lyrical tune that truly speaks to the heart of what Christmas means.
Peace came to earth at last that chosen night when angels clove the sky with song and light and God embodied love and sheathed his might-- Who could but gasp: Immanuel! Who could but sing: Immanuel! And who could be the same for having held the infant in their arms, and later felt the wounded hands and side, all doubts dispelled-- Who could but sigh: Immanuel! Who could but shout: Immanuel! You show the Father none has ever seen, in flesh and blood you bore our griefs and pains, in bread and wine you visit us again--- Who could but see Immanuel! Who could but thrill: Immanuel! How else could I have known you, O my God! How else could I have loved you, O my God! How else could I embrace you, O my God! Who could but pray: Immanuel! Who could but praise Immanuel! Marshall Permission to print lyrics obtained from One License (A-709014) and Christian Copyright Solutions (11133).  Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay Love has come a light in the darkness! Love shines forth in the Bethlehem skies. See, all heaven has come to proclaim it: hear how their song of joy arises: Love! Love! Born unto you, a Savior! Love! Love! Glory to God on high. - Ken Bible It could be so easy to sing past this text and not grapple with the depth of that first line. In the Longest Night services, the Plymouth Ringers will ring a composition by Derek Hakes called "Within the Darkest Night." It begins with a very haunting melody in the chimes with very little in the way of an accompaniment. It is very exposed--scary to play, scary to conduct, because one tiny misstep can really be noticeable. That melody is then accompanied by a more restless string of eighth notes as if embodying that anxiety. And yet in the middle of the piece there is this triumphant, hopeful part that comes just from slight transformations of that original melody. The piece concludes with that first melody but as if it were a music box or maybe a memory fading away. It is such a beautiful depiction of that sense of a light in darkness.
Marshall  Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay My heart shall sing of the day you bring. Let the fires of your justice burn. Wipe away all tears, for the dawn draws near, and the world is about to turn. - Rory Cooney I often think about the title of the poem "13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" and how the music in worship should similarly explore several ways of looking at our scripture readings.
For this week, our reading is the Magnificat -- Mary's song we find in Luke 1:46-55. Mary has a lot to sing in this song that really hits at the heart of our world today. The gathering hymn, "My Soul Gives Glory to My God," is worded in such a way that it emphasizes the God keeping promises and calming fears while paired with a gentle Appalachian tune, MORNING SONG. Later in the service there will be an arrangement of this tune that infuses it with some urgency. "My Soul Proclaims" is a much more reflective setting that comes from Behold Our Light, one of my favorite settings of music for evening prayer that runs the gamut from a psalm setting that sounds like it could be straight from the band Muse at their heaviest (such as some of the songs on their Absolution album) to this reflective setting of the Magnificat that focuses on the ways God has delivered us in the past. "Canticle of the Turning" focuses more on the aspects in the Magnificat of overturning power structures.... "From the halls of pow'r to the fortress tow'r, not a stone will be left on stone." Then we get to "O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing," which may seem like a strange choice; but that second verse calls on God to assist us in proclaiming God's glory in all these ways in which God turns the world around. And the postlude is based on the hymn "Hark! A Thrilling Voice Is Sounding," which references the words of prophets like Isaiah, but I think gives us an opportunity to reflect on the prophetic voice of Mary and the joy that comes from different aspects of the Magnificat that we have heard in the 4 different ways throughout worship. Marshall  Image by Andreas Lischka from Pixabay In deepest night Christ's coming shall be, when all the world is despairing, as morning light so quiet and free, so warm and gentle and caring. One without voice breaks forth in song, a lame one leaps in wonder, the weak are raised above the strong, and weapons are broken asunder. - Marty Haugen We managed to skip the planned hymn "Awake! Awake! and Greet the New Morn" this past week. Never fear, however: as we go through Advent, we are adding a verse each week. We started with the second verse, and on the last Sunday of Advent we will finish up by adding that first verse, with its references to Jesus being born. The images of Isaiah that are used in this text are rich with contrasts to what would be expected. The Pharisees would have expected the pomp and circumstance of brass and festivities at an event where everyone is putting their best foot forward. Yet here we hear about Christ's coming into the point of most despair in the dark of night. It conjures up a cold, chilling image; and yet we have the contrast of morning light that begins to turn us back to warmth and light. And it isn't done with the fanfare of brass or the spectacle of a great show that the world would tell us is needed to gain people's attention.
In the same sense, worship is not a performance but is a place where we grow as we participate. It isn't a concert to showcase the choir or bells or soloists, but a place where we simply offer our best. Note that is OUR best, not the best of some other church or some other person, or even this church (as seen through the distorted lens of nostalgia). And in the process of sharing those gifts, God speaks. Sometimes to us, as we offer the gift. Sometimes through the gift offered to someone else. My hope is that people will be quicker to listen to how God is speaking through what was offered, than to respond as to a performance in a concert. Share with others how God spoke through what was offered. Marshall |
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