March 2021 – Page 2 – The Raynville Rambler

See, Christ was wounded for our sake

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “See, Christ was wounded for our sake” by the late Brian Foley. It is the same sort of theme as yesterday’s, that Jesus’ sufferings were for our sake, and is also set to an old tune (this one, in fact, from the 15^th century – the height of medieval Catholicism). The words are a modern paraphrase of an even older text – verses from Isaiah chapter 53, often interpreted as a God-given prophecy of the future Christ’s sufferings.

I was particularly struck by the third verse, which contrasts our own sheep-like behaviour (in the version familiar from Evensong, “we have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep”) with Christ who went “as a sheep to the slaughter”, innocent and uncomplaining (whether sheep are actually so passive as supposed when about to be killed, is another question – I doubt it).

I also like the expression of the second verse: “Look on his face, come close to him; see, you will find no beauty there”. It suggests the question “what do we mean by ‘beauty’?” If we take it only to mean something aesthetically pleasing, sensually attractive, or conducive to peaceful thoughts, then clearly the sight of a man being tortured to death is nothing of the kind. But it reminds me of another hymn that we’’ come to later in the year: “Beauty for brokenness, hope for despair”, which tells of the hope, the beauty even, that can be found where Christ’s love is actively shown by his followers in the lives of others. And there is a kind of beauty in the death of Jesus, a moral beauty, summed up in his own words in John 15:12: “Greater love has no-one than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”. We may not see a smiling face or a peaceful scene when we ponder the cross, but we watch the beautiful love of God in action.

When you prayed beneath the trees

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “When you prayed beneath the trees” by Christopher Idle. This 20^th century hymn comes with its own tune, but John played it to an older hymn tune by Orlando Gibbons that better fits the sombre mood.

The feel of the words is much like the better known American spiritual “Where you there when they crucified by Lord?”. They expand on the idea that Jesus suffered, not only in his own body, but for our sake and in our place. The repeated refrain of “it was for me, O Lord” emphasises this. The four verses refer to the agony in the garden of Gethsemane; his trial; the ascent of the hill under the cross (‘via dolorosa’); and finally the crucifixion itself.

This last, though, sees Jesus not as victim but as victor, another common understanding of what happened of Good Friday: “When you spoke with kingly power it was for me, O Lord, in that dread and destined hour you made me free, O Lord; earth and heaven heard you shout, death and hell were put to rout, for the grave could not hold out; you are for me, O Lord”.

How deep the Father’s love for us

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “How deep the Father’s love for us”. This is a contemporary hymn from 1995 with both words and music by Stuart Townend, but both words and music seem to hark back to an earlier age. In fact, to my ears the melody bears a close resemblance to yesterday’s 19^th century hymn, “Here is love, vast as the ocean”. I would not be surprised if Townend had that one in mind when he wrote this.

Some of the images are shared by the two hymns: the vastness of God’s love in the title (‘vast’ is not a common word nowadays), the futility of worldly power when measured against God’s love, and Christ as our ransom. But the emphasis is different. Here it is less the extent of God’s grace and love that are praised (though they are) but the great pains Christ went through in order to deliver them.

The words here also look behind or above the cross (spatial words are of course meaningless in respect of God, but necessary for us as that’s the way we think) to the suffering of God the Father. He is no remote creator here, but a very present spirit with feelings for his now all-too-human Son. “The Father turns his face away, as wounds which mar the chosen one bring many souls to glory”.

My own part in Christ’s suffering has to be acknowledged here, too. “Ashamed I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers” and “It was my sin that held him there, until it was accomplished”. But at the end the singer of this hymn, as with yesterday’s, can declare “This I know with all my heart: his wounds have paid my ransom”.

Here is love, vast as the ocean

**Lon Swan Independent Chapel, Denbigh**
William Rees)was minister here from 1837 to 1843.
Image cc-by-sa/2.0 – © Eirian Evans

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “Here is love, vast as the ocean” by William Rees to a tune by Robert Lowry. I first came across this some years ago, and was surprised to find that both words and music are from the 19^th century as they sound much more recent to me. The language seems more imaginative than most Victorian hymns, and the imagery is more striking than I would expect of its time.

Maybe that’s because the composer was thoroughly Welsh, a nation known for their love of poetry and song. A biography of Rees describes him as a largely self-taught shepherd and farmer, Welsh being his first language, becoming a preacher aged 27, later a minister in churches in North Wales and Liverpool. It’s interesting how many of God’s great servants have been shepherds, including Moses and King David. The solitude of their trade and closeness to the natural world, it seems, lends itself to being open to God’s leading.

Only two verses of the hymn are given in this book, which (to continue a point made in yesterday’s post) are corporate praise from the congregation. But there are more. I found a setting online with two more verses: https://hymnary.org/media/fetch/111969 which are a personal response, and altogether this four-verse version is more complete.

The overall impression one gets from these words is of God’s intention for us to receive his grace, not grudgingly given or in small measure, but as Jesus himself put it, as “good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over” (Luke 6:38, KJV). Ponder on these words: “love, vast as the ocean”, “a vast and gracious tide”, “grace and love like mighty rivers, poured incessant from above”. God’s grace once given is unstoppable. The last lines of the extended version linked above echo this theme in the singer’s response: “Of thy fullness thou art pouring thy great love and power on me; without measure, full and boundless, drawing out my heart to thee”.

Of course there was a cost to offering that grace, as any meditation on the Cross reminds us, as do words in the first verse of this hymn. “The Prince of Life, our ransom, shed for us his precious blood”. Other hymns for Holy Week will explore that in more depth, but for today we have this hymn for praise for the abundance of God’s saving grace.

Beneath the cross of Jesus

**The holy rood at St. Andrew’s, Nuthurst, West Sussex**
cc-by-sa/2.0 – © nick macneill

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is Keith & Kristyn Getty’s “Beneath the cross of Jesus”. As we approach Holy Week we focus more on the inevitable death of Jesus, and there are many hymns on this theme, which is why we’re starting well ahead of time.

I liked this one, because it gets a good balance between the individual or devotional approach to the Cross and a corporate one. Not only the words but also the music is quite different from “O to see the dawn” that I sang on 9 March, which was another Keith Getty composition but in partnership with Stuart Townend. Perhaps it’s that difference in partnership that brings a much softer approach both to the music (the tune is a pleasant, almost folk-style one, although set a bit low for my tenor voice) and also the words, where the message of Jesus suffering punishment for us is replaced with a meditation on how Jesus has brought grace to me, the church and the world.

The first verse is personal – “Beneath the cross of Jesus I find a place to stand, and wonder at the mercy that calls me as I am. For hands that should discard me hold wounds which tell me ‘Come’. Beneath the cross of Jesus my unworthy soul is won.” The second tells how by his death Jesus brought into being a new family of those saved by grace: “Beneath the cross of Jesus see the children called by God”. This is symbolised by the words (in the Bible, not in this hymn) that Jesus spoke from the cross telling his mother Mary and closest disciple John to treat each other as mother and son after his own death.

The third verse follows with what that family should do in response: “We follow in his footsteps where promised hope is found”. The last lines refer to the Church as the Bride (an image found in the book of Revelation) and finish with “Beneath the cross of Jesus we will gladly live our lives”.

Our Father God in heaven

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is the second of two in the book suggested for Mothering Sunday. Yesterday’s blog post covered my thoughts on this subject, so here’s a briefer review of this hymn by Timothy Dudley-Smith, “Our Father God in Heaven”.

For a hymn specifically about mothering, it may seem odd that the first line addresses God as Father. Some Christians (including myself) are happy to address God also as Mother, since clearly the God who “made them in his own image, male and female” is neither exclusively one nor the other, but both and more. I suspect Dudley-Smith, being of an older and more conservative generation, is not among them.

The first verse gives thanks to God for families generally – “parents, sisters, brothers, a home where love belongs”. Of course not everyone gets on with their parents, sisters and brothers, and many are the loveless homes, which is perhaps reflected in the more realistic second verse with the words “Our deepest joys and sorrows a mother’s path must trace, and earth’s unknown tomorrows are held in her embrace”.

Those “sorrows and unknown tomorrows” are found even in loving households. This was especially true for Mary the mother of Jesus. The third verse focuses on Jesus who “[found] in Mary’s keeping the warmth of human love”. Her love for him was unbroken, yet her heart was broken by his suffering; and while there can be no doubt of his love for her above all people, yet there were moments when he rebuked her and appeared to forsake his family, as he embraced his true vocation as the Son of God. In everyday experience, many are the mothers who have had to wave goodbye to sons and daughters who chose a path in life that took them away from the family, whether into a different culture or a different land.

The fourth verse comes back to giving thanks for mothers’ love, with a prayer that every child should be shown tenderness and care. That is the foundation for whatever path they may choose in their own lives, in the knowledge that there is always a loving home to return to.

The tune suggested here is a familiar and easily sung one, “Ellacombe”. But it is best known as a setting for the words of the hymn “The Day of Resurrection”, so it feels odd to be singing it this side of Easter. There are plenty of alternative melodies in 76.76 metre, try “Salley Gardens” for example.

God of Eve and God of Mary

Today being Mothering Sunday, I have picked from Sing Praise a hymn titled “God of Eve and God of Mary” by the late Fred Kaan. The title line addresses God, rather than addressing Mary directly as a more Catholic tradition would do, but makes the parallel between Eve, the symbolic ancestor of all humanity, and Mary, regarded as “mother of the Church” for her role in bearing and raising Jesus. He is also addressed as “God of love and mother-earth”.

The first verse goes on to thank God for our own mothers who “shared their life and gave us birth” and the second asks him to be present in the “caring that prepares us for life’s way”.

The third verse gives thanks for the Church (in the sense of the Christian community), often referred to in the feminine and here described as “our mother”, and for the Spirit who in the last verse is also described as “caring like a mother”. The further verse does give a nod to those who, like my wife and me, have not been able to have children but are “parents under God” (I don’t know what is intended by that phrase, maybe it means our calling to nurture the spiritual life of others in the church).

There are several images or aspects of mothering here: the Church as mother of her members (the original meaning of Mothering Sunday); Mary as mother of the Church; the literal and natural sense of motherhood, which is what most people now think of on what has generally become known as Mothers’ Day; Eve as our symbolic female ancestor; the Spirit representing the nurturing love of God; and the earth which with its natural fecundity is viewed (in non-Christian spiritualities) as a mother figure in place of God him/herself.

This is all rather confusing, with Christian, new-age and secular ideas on one page, and I think Kaan may have tried to pack too many concepts into one hymn. Better, I think, to stick on this day to thinking of the Church as our mother as originally intended, remembering that the church consists of its members, and so it’s our responsibility (whether parents or not) to care for each other. Mothers’ and Fathers’ Days could sensibly be combined into a single Parents’ Day now that there are many non-traditional family arrangements (although I’m sure the greetings card industry wouldn’t like that), and since 2018 the Roman Catholic Church officially celebrates “the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church” on the Monday after Pentecost..

Unless a grain of wheat shall fall

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is from one of my favourite contemporary hymnwriters, Bernadette Farrell. The form of the hymn is six verses of three short lines and a chorus, the words of which are “Unless a grain of wheat shall fall upon the ground and die, it remains but a single grain with no life”.

“Unless a grain of what shall fall” is based on Jesus’ explanation to his followers that his death was necessary in order that he could rise again in a new and eternal form and send the Holy Spirit, just as a seed has to be buried in the earth in order to sprout and come to life as a new plant.

In different ways, the verses call people to the Christian life, and are balanced to show that Jesus gives as much as he demands. We are called to die, live and eventually reign with Jesus; to serve him and follow him; to make our home in him as he makes his home in us in order to bear much fruit; to remain in him and let his word live in us; to love and be loved; and finally, without any action demanded of us, to accept the peace that he gives which the world cannot give.

All these sayings are to be found in John’s gospel, and are worthy of reflection as we approach Good Friday and Easter.

Great God, your love has called us here

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is “Great God, your love has called us here” by Brian Wren, which in the book is set for Maundy Thursday (the day before Good Friday). I presume this is because of the first line of the fourth verse, “Then take the towel, and break the bread”, a reminder that Jesus demonstrated humble leadership by washing his disciples’ feet before declaring at the Last Supper that the act of sharing bread and wine was to be regarded by his followers after his resurrection as being equivalent in their level of commitment to each other and to him as if they had eaten his flesh and blood.

The hymn taken as a whole, however, is not really about Holy Week or Easter, but about God working in us through Christ, in many different ways. It’s difficult to quote individual lines without the context of a whole verse, but the full words can be found on the publisher’s website here: where it is suggested as a communion hymn. Read as a whole, they certainly follow a pattern familiar in the communion service (or other Christian acts of worship) of praise, confession, absolution, call to service and going out in the power of the Spirit.

Dark is the night

Today, and still more than three weeks ahead of time, we move on from Good Friday to Holy Saturday (or Easter Eve). This is the most solemn day of the Christian year, as if we try to put ourselves in the place of Jesus’ disciples, their last hope of him being saved from the cross has gone. This is the theme of the service of Tenebrae.

This hymn, “Dark is the night” by Paul Wigmore, actually takes the theme of darkness as it features three times in the Gospel stories. The other theme the three verses have in common is reference to Jesus’ friends (his closest disciples). Verse 1 is set on what we call Maundy Thursday with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane after the Last Supper and after sunset. The darkness is natural and real, but there’s a sense of moral darkness here too, as friends sleep while the Temple police come to arrest their Lord. “Lanterns and swords no radiance, no defence” – they are dealing with an irresistible force in the face of which there is nothing to be done with the tools available, and they turn and run.

The second verse is set on Good Friday as all his friends (except for several women including his mother, and just one male disciple conventionally identified as John) deserted him or stood far off – “hiding from his death and loss”. The gospels record that the sun was darkened that day as Jesus died. Whether that is literally true or a metaphor we cannot say, but if not literally true, perhaps in the way that some people say they feel cold in the presence of a ghost or can sense an evil spirit. The other events that occurred at the moment of his death were more physical – an earthquake that shook the rocks and caused the Temple veil to split. A ray of hope is suggested by the reference to the thief promised forgiveness and paradise by Jesus, the “first fruits of salvation”.

The third is set in the early hours of Easter day, before dawn and with the added darkness of a rock-hewn tomb, not to mention the grief of the friends (again women, initially) who come to complete the embalming of his body. Perhaps the notion in these words that they have come “to find if death has won indeed, or risen he” is premature, as they seem to have had no idea that the body might have gone until they get there. Likewise the final line “we … prepare in faith his wondrous face to see” is anticipating the surprise of Easter. For the moment, let’s stay in the darkness, because it’s only when we appreciate just what horrors happened on Good Friday and how bereft the world was with the death of its saviour, that we can be emptied enough to be filled with Easter joy when it comes.