Music from the Mouths of Babes

This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let It Shine

Music in our worship is a very purposeful and considered element. All the selections that have been included in our hymnals (regardless of denomination) have been carefully considered and chosen based on a preconceived plan or list of criteria for acceptance.  Music in our worship must praise and glorify God. Music might be used in lieu of a spoken prayer.  It might be used to reiterate and reinforce the text of the Gospel or other lessons.  Regardless of how it is used, musical selections are almost always chosen with conscious forethought for how they will fit into the service.  It’s a rare moment in our Episcopal tradition of worship where the congregation will break into spontaneous song simply for the sheer joy of singing a song!  Yet it does happen.  I've actually experienced one of those rare spontaneous moments of song recently at a Diocesan Convention when Bishop Ely led us all in a rousing rendition of  “This Little Light of Mine.”

Our rigid structure of the order of service somewhat precludes spontaneity of song. But even in our elegant and reserved tradition, there is one area of mischief and joy where spontaneous song still erupts. Enter a Sunday School class and you will find spontaneous song as children work on an assignment.  Spy on a youth group meeting and somewhere along the way, they’ll bond over a song. They remind us that music in our worship should also bring us closer together and should (at least once in a while) be a joy!  To that end, the editors of our hymnal ensured that a number of hymns geared specifically to appeal to a young audience were included in The Hymnal 1982, and most assuredly again in Wonder, Love and Praise the hymnal’s more recent supplement. The back of the hymnal includes a number of rounds and canons that have specific appeal to children.  “Seek Ye First” comes to mind.  Another is a round by Michael Praetorius called, “Singt dem Herren.” Other hymns specifically included to appeal to children include “Grand Isle” by John Henry Hopkins, Jr. and “Earth and All Stars” by Herbert Brokering.

Not included in our hymnals are those songs children learn through the oral tradition. Children who attend Sunday School or summer camps learn songs that tells stories, teach lessons, illustrate morals and are just plain fun.  And not all of them are forgotten by the time we reach adulthood, as Bishop Ely demonstrated. Along with “This Little Light of Mine,” remember those other great campfire songs, “Peace Like a River,” “He’s Got the Whole World,” “I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart” and “Give Me Oil in My Lamp” and some African songs like “Siyahamba” and “Ukuthula” and, of course, “Khumbaya.”  Some favorite story songs retell Bible stories with a twist. “Rise and Shine” is one that retells the story of Noah’s Ark.  “Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho” helps kids understand a confusing Old Testament story.  Some kids are fortunate enough to grow up in a family with a musical background. In my family, we used to trade silly songs. My favorite growing up was an irreverent song my Dad taught me called, “The Happy Bible School.” It’s a silly old folk tune with endless verses and this refrain: 

“Young folks, old folks, everybody come!

Join the happy Bible school and have a lotta fun.

Please check your razors and your rifles at the door*

And we'll tell you Bible stories that you've never heard before.”

*Cleaner versions say “Please check your chewing gum and raisins at the door” but I like the hillbilly version better.  My brother and I used to entertain ourselves by making up verses about our favorite Bible stories. The only verses of our own that I can remember are these, but you get the idea…

            “Abraham and Sarah were getting on in years.

An angel of the Lord arrived to ease all Abram’s fears.

He talked about a son and descendants like the stars.

And Sarah laughed until her husband left to hit the bars.”

“Absalom was David’s son who had a lot of hair

He thought that he could oust his pop and steal the royal chair

But the king had a general that disobeyed his lord

As Absalom hung by his locks he stabbed him with his sword.”

You can find original as well as alternate verses at this link if you click here.  Some of them are pretty funny and worth the read! But be forewarned; as a folk song, many of the alternate verses show their prejudices.

As everything that goes around, comes around again, the idea of spontaneous song in worship is getting a revival of sorts with “paperless music.”  Paperless music hearkens back to the days when congregations knew all the hymns by name and sang them as the minister saw fit.  Today, paperless music is more in the style of Taizé with simple, repetitive lines that can be sung and harmonized for use throughout the service. Who knows? The old favorites from our Sunday School and Bible Camp days may find themselves back in our worship again!

Finding Comfort in Psalm 23

This fourth Sunday of Easter is one of the several Sundays in the church calendar that includes the twenty-third psalm as part of its lectionary.  Psalm 23 is without a doubt the most recognizable and oft-quoted psalm in the collection. It has been set to innumerable hymns and anthems, for it offers comfort and reassurance in God’s presence in our lives. It was written to offer a way to live in and with the presence of God, yet is most familiarly used at the time of death and is a favorite at funerals.  As is often the case with frequently used prayers, psalms, hymns and anthems, the intent and meaning of the words is easily overlooked.

It’s important to remember that David, before he became a king and the noted head of the family line that would eventually produce the Son of God (pretty important breeches, wouldn’t you say?), was a shepherd. One can imagine the young lad out in the hills with his flock, being solely responsible for their care and survival. And the survival of the flock has direct bearing on the survival of his people.  It must have been a bit intimidating at times.  Fast forward to King David who is now solely responsible for the care and survival of his people—full fruition of the promise (or curse, depending on one’s outlook at the moment) that God made to David.  I imagine that it was during one of these moments of overwhelming liability that the boy and king would desperately seek his own shepherd and who better for the role than God. (Incidentally, the line “thou hast anointed my head with oil” indicates the poem was written after David was made king.) God as our shepherd upon whom we can unload all our troubles and confide in with complete trust is a very comforting thought.

Except…

Assuming the translation of Adonai Ro’i (God is my shepherd)is the appropriate meaning as opposed to “God is my companion”—“shepherd” is thought to derive from re’a, which means “friend, pal, companion,”—there are implications to be considered with God as shepherd.  In the story of Joseph, there is a throw-away line (Genesis 46:34) where Joseph tells his brothers that shepherds are “abhorrent to the Egyptians.” This antagonistic attitude towards shepherds was apparently a prevailing one in ancient times.  In fact, resentment towards shepherds begins right in the beginning of Genesis with Cain’s jealously of Abel.  References pitting farmers against shepherds arise again and again in the Bible. Now, perhaps the circumstances in which David composed this psalm did not take this particular animosity into consideration.  Yet the implications of this conflict might have some bearing on later interpretations of the psalm—especially when using the shepherd metaphor to describe Jesus. The conflict foreshadows the antipathy that led to Jesus’ crucifixion. What would it mean for the safety of the sheep to trust in a guardian doomed to be hated and scourged by others? Yet the language of the psalm conveys complete and utter confidence in the protection of God as shepherd.

In order to take comfort in the idea of God being our shepherd, one must complete the analogy by accepting that people, therefore are sheep. The problem with that is that the very nature of sheep (flocking instinct, disinclination to act independently, a ready recognition of their shepherd’s voice over any others) infers on the part of people a nature that is construed as negative and detrimental. We are at our worst when we lack independent thought and when we hear only one voice (i.e. one narrow perspective). To be sure, it is when we are at our worst that we most need God to be our shepherd. Singer Juanita Bynum sings an interpretation of the twenty-third psalm that has been beautifully choreographed in a liturgical dance that speaks to this need. We are reminded that God the Shepherd (abhorred by others) has had experience being God the Lamb (scourged, despised and sacrificed). This, then, is a shepherd who can be trusted with our very worst.

Most of the musical versions of Psalm 23 that we at Trinity are most familiar with are settings of gentle, soothing quality—hymn 645, St. Columba (which we will sing this Sunday, April 21) is one such hymn; hymn 664, Resignation is another. John Rutter includes his interpretation of the psalm in his masterpiece opus Requiem.  In light of recent events, perhaps it is most fitting to seek safety and reassurance in God as Shepherd. He shall convert my soul and lead me forth in the paths of righteousness. May that path be one of loving forgiveness and understanding and not one of vengeance or indifference.

Famous Conversions

This third Sunday of Easter continues our Year C lectionary journey through Acts, Revelation and the Gospel of John. Like many Sundays, the entire lectionary (with the exception of the psalm, perhaps) can be sung in our hymns. The stories are meant to be shared through the oral tradition—that is, told and retold—and music, by its very nature enhances that tradition.  This Sunday’s stories include all kinds of conversions: the conversion of Saul to Paul (Acts 9:1-20), the conversion of Peter the Apostle to Peter the founder of the Church (John 21:1-19), the conversion of Jesus the man and teacher to Jesus the King of Heaven (Revelation 5:11-14), the conversion of our own sorrow to joy (Psalm 30).

Carravaggio's Conversion of Saul

In the Acts of the Apostles, Saul is preaching murder and mayhem upon the Christians when God decides to point-and-laugh at him. God blinds the mean-spirited Saul until he decides that what God wants is what he himself wants. Saul eventually “sees the light” and becomes Paul, the “if-I-can-change-so-can-you” apostle. One of the more widely used hymns telling of Paul’s conversion is one by John Ellerton set to the tune of Munich. In Hymnal 1982, the hymn  (#255) uses the harmonies adapted by Felix Mendelssohn. The last stanza of the hymn reminds us as we sing that we too are God’s disciples and like Paul are ready to be converted to God’s service. Another popular hymn telling Paul’s conversion story is one by Gracia Grindal, a contemporary hymnist whose words are set to the tune Cornish, also by a contemporary composer name Mervyn Lee Suitor. Ralph Vaughn Williams was well-known for his compiling and adapting English folk tunes into hymns. His setting called King’s Lynn (hymn #231) is another hymn that includes a stanza about Paul. 

Hymn #231 is a hymn adapted to various Saint’s days, and includes not only Paul’s conversion, but also a stanza about Peter's confession.  

Charge to Peter by Raphael

In that stanza is a line about Jesus’ charge to him to “feed his flock”. The Gospel story for this Sunday is from John and tells of Peter and several of the other disciples encountering Jesus as they come in from a fruitless fishing trip. After Jesus compels them to cast their nets one last time and they come ashore with a great haul (would have been an even more impressive miracle if they’d hauled in actual fruit, eh?), Jesus petitions Peter three times about his love. Three times he charges Peter to “feed his sheep.” One must presume that Peter did as he was told and converted from being a fisherman to being the “fisher of men” and “rock on which I will build my church” as Jesus promised he would. One may further presume that it took the promise of Peter’s love for the Father (“Simon, do you love me more than these?” query number one), and for the Son (“Simon, do you love me?” number two) and for the Holy Spirit (“Simon, do you love me?” for the third time) for the conversion to finally stick.  Richard Dirkson composed a canon hymn tune called Wyngate Canon that is more about Peter’s great confession (You are the Christ, hymn #254), yet alludes to his becoming the foundation of the Church.  There are two settings of a hymn called “Two stalwart trees” about Peter and Paul.  One is a plainsong chant called Ave caeli jauna  (hymn #273) and the other is hymn #274,  a Dutch tune called De eersten zijn de laatsten  (translated to "the first shall be last").

Revelation 5 by Pat Marvenko Smith, 1992

The second reading for this Sunday’s liturgy is taken from the book of Revelation. Perhaps it is a stretch to think of it in the theme of conversion, for it is a selection that speaks of Jesus’ reception as he takes his rightful seat on the throne of Heaven. Those of us familiar with the less famous second half of Handel’s Messiah, will easily identify with this text: “Worthy is the lamb that was slain…” The passage alludes to the expected change in Jesus’ persona from man to his divine being, “’To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!’ And the four living creatures said, ‘Amen!’ And the elders fell down and worshiped.” In our liturgy, the sanctus reminds us of this sacred conversion each Sunday.  But when the story comes up on a given Sunday, there are also well-known hymns to reiterate the message.  Hymn #417, Festival Canticle by Richard Hillock, is one such hymn with the hymn text taken directly from this Sunday’s selection from Revelation. Another hymn that paraphrases the text with the eloquence of the incomparable Isaac Watts is hymn #374 set to Johann Crüger’s very familiar and oft-used tune, Nun Danket All und Bringet Ehr.

Joy Comes in the Morning by Jennifer Edwards

Even the psalm this week speaks to the change or conversion that we find in our own lives. Psalm 30 speaks of turning sorrow into joy, mourning into dancing and implies the conversion of one’s soul from ‘Sheol’ to God.  As with all psalms, there is an abundance of various forms of chant, anthem settings, and popular music. But for Psalm 30 (at least in our hymnal) there are no hymns! Still, there are some lively and upbeat anthems paraphrasing and/or directly quoting Psalm 30:  Joy’s Gonna Come in the Morning and Weeping May Endure for a Night, Joy Cometh in the Morning are two examples. Yet, what is most interesting is when concepts, themes and actual texts themselves find their way into the secular music world. Remember the old Gerry and the Pacemakers song, “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying”?  To be sure, the content of the song has nothing to do with Psalm 30, but the initial verse does call to mind verse 5 of the psalm:

“Don't let the sun catch you cryin'

The night's the time for all your tears

Your heart may be broken tonight

But tomorrow in the morning light

Don't let the sun catch you cryin'”

And if we're going to talk about songs that remind us of conversion and changes...well, you can't ignore David Bowie's Changes  which is all about changing (surprise!).

So Paul sees the light, Peter feeds the flock, the Lamb is worthy of honor, glory and all, and joy really does come in the morning.  Christ is risen, alleluia, alleluia!

Low Sunday: Quasimodo Day

The octave of Easter, more commonly known as Easter week, reaches its ultimate on Low Sunday.  Now, most of us lay folk probably think of the term “low” Sunday as reference to the markedly “lower” number of people in the congregation on the Sunday following Easter.  But the term has been in existence for a very long time—even during ages when congregations did not lapse and it was socially unacceptable not to attend church services.  It’s not clear where the term originates, but one plausible explanation is that when the Octave of Easter was observed with every one of the eight days being a feast day, each day lessened in festal splendor.  Thus, by the eighth day, the Sunday following Easter, the feast was at its lowest energy and no doubt its lowest rations.  Hence the name Low Sunday was coined. 

In 2000, when Pope John Paul II canonized Sr. Faustina Kowalska for her vision of Divine Mercy, the second Sunday of Easter became known as Divine Mercy Sunday in the Roman Catholic Church.  There is a certain liturgical logic that a celebration of Divine Mercy that springs from the redemption of sins upon Christ’s resurrection should immediately follow the feast of the resurrection.  In some Western Christian faiths, the second Sunday of Easter is also the feast of St. Thomas, for the Gospel of the day is the story of Thomas’ skepticism.  Divine Mercy again reprises its implication when Jesus comments to Thomas, “Happy are they who have not seen yet believe.”

You may be wondering what all this has to do with this blog’s current theme of music in worship.  I’m getting to that right now.

Prior to its recasting as Divine Mercy Sunday, and ignoring the assumptions of meanings and interpretations of the “Low” moniker, the second Sunday of Easter is also known Quasimodo Sunday.  (Of course!  It is to honor the hunchbacked bell-ringer in Victor Hugo’s famous book.  Okay, maybe not,  but read on for the connection. ) Like Gaudete Sunday in Advent and Laetare Sunday in Lent, Quasimodo Sunday takes its name from the incipit (the first word; in this case the compounding of the first two words) of the introit for the day. 

Quasi modo geniti infantes, alleluia: rationabiles, sine dolo lac concupiscite, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

In ancient traditions, the Great Vigil of Easter was a time of mass baptism.  Neophytes to Christianity would prepare during Lent and receive the sacrament of Holy Baptism during the Easter Vigil Mass.  They would be given white gowns that they would wear during the Feast of Easter (the octave was treated as if it were a single day) and finally be allowed to set them aside on the eighth day, being fully welcomed into the communion.  On this day, they would take Holy Communion for the first time.   And so, the Second Sunday of Easter is known by yet another name: Dominica in Albis Depositis (Sunday of the depositing of the albs).  The introit for this Sunday speaks directly to the newly baptized drawing from Jesus’ instruction, “and said, ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.’” –Matthew 18:3

So on the Second Sunday of Easter, the newly baptized are like newborn infants and receive the Divine Mercy of Christ upon his resurrection and emulating Jesus who leaves his robes neatly folded in the tomb, they discard their baptismal garb and join in the feast on the last day.  Quasimodo, Divine Mercy, Dominica in Albis, Low Sunday.  While we no longer sing Mass and have little to no cultural recollection of an introit other than through Masses performed in concerts, the concept and words are not lost in our worship.  Listen to the collect for the day on Sunday.  You will hear reference to being reborn and allusion to Divine Mercy in the words.  (Or you can click on this link to the Book of Common Prayer and look for the collect for the Second Sunday of Easter…)

As for celebrating the hunchback in Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame, the deformed infant was left on the steps of the cathedral on Quasimodo Sunday, so the archdeacon who found and cared for him named the child after the day, saying the babe was “an almost” (another interpretation of the term Quasimodo).