Today’s hymn
from Sing Praise is ‘Jesus, in your life we see you’ by Basil Bridge. Each of
the three verses addresses Jesus. In the first verse he is addressed as the one
who in his earthly life used physical touch to bring hope and healing and his
words to set captives free, but who in the end suffered rejection and death. In the second and third verses he is
addressed as ‘Risen Lord’, but the risen lord who retains wounds of the cross
in his body as a sign that he continues to share the sufferings of the present time,
including (as listed here) greed, exploitation, addiction and heartbreak. The
final verse asks him to use us in his service and offer his divine compassion
to those in need; although as John pointed out in introducing the hymn, it
doesn’t explicitly pray for Jesus to act and heal people.
The hymn is set
in the book to the Welsh hymn tune Ebenezer, though John used a Russian tune
called Stenka Razin (who apparently was the leader of a unsuccessful 17th
century peasant rebellion in Russia).
Personally I preferred the Welsh tune, perhaps because the minor key
fits the theme of suffering.
This weekend’s
song from Sing Praise is another communion song: “Eat this bread, drink this
cup”. It’s a chant from the Taize community.
I was familiar with the chorus (“Eat this bread, drink this cup, come to
him and never be hungry. Eat this bread, drink this cup, trust in him and you
will not thirst”) but the five verses for cantor are new to me, as is the alternative
wording of the chorus presumably intended for an occasion other than a
communion service, with “eat this bread / drink this cup” replaced by an
invocation of Jesus as “bread of life / risen Lord”.
The text is
based on John’s gospel chapter 6, John’s account of Jesus’ teaching about
himself as the bread of life which starts with the miracle of feeding five
thousand people with five loaves of bread. The verses of the song meditate on
what it means to have Jesus as the bread of life within us, and the eternal
life that he promises. It’s easy, in
churches such as the one I attend that have a weekly communion service, just to
get into a routine of saying the familiar words and eating he bread or wafer
without much thought. But really, we
should pause and ponder again each time what this miracle might mean, that by
sharing the bread we become part of the body of Christ as he becomes part of us.
Today’s hymn
from Sing Praise is “Lord you are the light of life to me” by Brian Hoare. After
a run of three familiar songs, this one, and its composer, are new to me. Brian
also composed the tune, which has the unusual metrical pattern of 9.10.11.10
and so can’t easily be substituted with another. For once I’m writing this before seeing John’s
rendition so maybe he will have written his own?
This is a personal sort of hymn, written in terms of “I and me”. It addresses the Lord Jesus directly as a friend, as well as a King (verse 5). He is variously addressed as the light of life who guides me, the rock who keeps me safe when I am weak, the truth who brings freedom and liberty, the Lamb who died for love of me (and set an example for the way I should love others), and finally the king who reigns perfectly and unceasingly, in contrast to earth’s rulers. Although new to me, this is a hymn I would be happy to use in a church service when occasion arises, as well as devotionally.
Today’s song
from Sing Praise is ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord’. It’s described in the book
as anonymous, which is a bit surprising as it’s a modern song, not an ancient
hymn. Like the last two days, it’s one I’m
already familiar with.
The words appear
to be inspired by the Book of Revelation, in which Jesus is hailed by both
humans and angels as the holy one (for having ascended to the right hand of
God), the one worthy of praise (for his sacrifice for us) and the one to whom
glory is due. By equating Jesus with the
eternal God, this text (the original Revelation as well as the modern song)
challenges any notion of all religions being equal. In particular it confronts the
insistence of Judaism and, perhaps especially, Islam that God is sublime and
cannot be seen or take human form. The early apostles insisted that they had
indeed seen, known and touched a true incarnation of God. It is this as well as
its social teaching of the equality of all people that made Christianity so subversive,
and in many places still does.
The other phrase
that recurs in each verse is “who was, and is, and is to come”. This refers to God being eternal, beyond time
and space. It also reflects the
Christian belief that by ‘Christ’ we mean not just Jesus of Nazareth but the
eternal reality of the Word of God (the way God communicates with us) and that
he has promised to return again in some visible form. As Very Lynn might have put
it, “don’t know where, don’t know when, but we know we’ll meet again”. This
is leading us gradually towards the Kingdom Season in November and then into
Advent.
Today’s song
from Sing Praise has very simple words: Hallelujah. That’s it. To be more precise it’s Geoff Weaver’s
arrangement of a Caribbean chant, best sung in four parts, of which John
managed at least two.
The word Hallelujah (or alleluia, as you prefer) is of Jewish origin, just meaning ‘Praise God’ or ‘Praise the Lord’. It’s a widely known word outside religious circles, perhaps through the Jewish musician Leonard Cohen’s song of the same name with some religious references in the lyrics, or Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus, or more profane uses such as the popular disco song of the 1990s ‘Hallelujah, it’s raining men’. Many people use it as an epithet on its own, either to give thanks to God for some small answer to prayer, or in an ironic way (“Hallelujah, he’s understood it at last!”) Perhaps this just reflects the basic human instinct for praise, whether of God or other people. The present song is very joyful in style, as indeed praise should be. If praise is expressed reluctantly or unenthusiastically, it isn’t really praise.
Floor to rafter: the nave ceiling of St Mary Magdalene, Taunton, Somerset
Today’s hymn
from Sing Praise is ‘Let us build a house where love can dwell’ by Marty Haugen.
It’s a hymn about inclusion in the church, and about the church being more than
its buildings. As a recent report from the
Church of England put it, Christians vary from being ‘Temple people’ for whom a
beautiful building is of great importance to their worship and witness, to ‘Tent
people’ for whom the building is nothing more than a temporary shelter to host
the all-important task of proclaiming the Gospel.
Marty Haugen comes across as more of a Tent person in this hymn. There is indeed some memorable building imagery: rock and vault, wood and stone, floor to rafter (incidentally, the recently deceased American folk singer Nanci Griffith uses that exact phrase ‘floor to rafter’, also rhymed with laughter, in one of her songs: did one of them pinch it from the other?) But there is much more imagery of the activities that our buildings should host: love and safety; hopes, dreams, visions and prophecy; a banqueting hall; peace and justice; healing, serving and teaching; songs, laughter and prayers.
This balance is at the heart of my work for the Church, helping local congregations across Yorkshire care for historic buildings at the same time as encouraging sensitive adaptation of those buildings to the present and future needs of mission. If our buildings become museums of architecture then we’ve swung too far the wrong way, for the house of God should be both a house of prayer (as Jesus called the Temple) and a haven for all those in need of grace.
Today’s hymn
from Sing Praise is “I’ll praise the Lord for ever and ever” by Paul Wigmore. It’s
based on parts of Psalm 34 (specifically, verses 1, 4, 8 and 22 of the psalm for
the four verses of the hymn, and v.3 for the chorus). The psalm as a whole is one
of the more positive ones (in the New Revised Standard Version it’s captioned ‘Praise
for deliverance from trouble’), and these selected verses are the most affirming
of all. “I will praise the Lord for ever
and ever, my soul shall boast of his wonderful name”, and the other verses say
how he answers prayer, delivers us from fear, offers secure refuge and redeems
but never condemns those who trust in him.
All this
makes it a good sing (whether using the tune provided, or the one that John
wrote). But the Psalms are still much-used precisely because they contain such
a wide range of emotions, representing the reality of life that even those who
do have faith in God can still suffer some awful experiences that test that very
faith. Perhaps
the composer of this hymn should have included some of the verses of PS.34 that
acknowledge this (“this poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord … keep your
tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceit … many are the afflictions
of the righteous”).
Today’s song
is a setting by John Bell of the Agnus dei, a standard part of the Communion
service in traditional churches. The words are simple, though repeated: “Lamb
of God, have mercy on us. Lamb of God, give us your peace”. The Lamb is Jesus
as the symbolic sacrifice who reconciles us to God, offering mercy instead of condemnation
for our sins and peace instead of the mixture of pride, shame and worry that so
often clouds our minds. The Church is often criticised by those outside it for
being ‘obsessed with sin’, and it’s true that most gatherings for worship include
a form of confession or at least a request for God to have mercy on us. Is this really needed?
This seeking
and receiving of God’s mercy is often discussed with the analogy of washing – “Was
me from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin” wrote King David in Psalm 51. To extend the metaphor, there are different
forms or degrees of washing as there are degrees of uncleanness. It’s good hygiene practice to wash hands frequently
and take regular showers, just because in the normal course of life we pick up
germs and we sweat. Nothing exceptional about that, it’s just the way life is,
and in the same way it’s good to seek God’s mercy regularly for the many small
or even unnoticed ways in which we directly or indirectly fail to love our
neighbours as ourselves as part of the human condition. Singing a devotional song like this may be
adequate to deal with them.
Then there
are the more noticeable sins, deliberate acts or omissions for which we should specifically
say sorry both to God and neighbour, just as we particularly need a good wash
when we’ve fallen in the mud, then we can walk away feeling clean again. But there are also the ‘big sins’ which
seriously harm our relationships with God and neighbour (for further discussion
of this look up any text on the distinction between ‘mortal’ and ‘venial’ sins). Like someone who has fallen, or for that
matter deliberately jumped, into a tank of farmyard slurry. A quick shower won’t
do the job, they and their clothes will stink for a long time. Such was David’s sin over Bathsheba and Uriah
and such sins may need formal confession and counselling as we seek to come to
a deep repentance. But Jesus promises that mercy can be found even for these –
only the ‘sin against the Holy Spirit’ cannot be forgiven (and again, a
discussion of that us outside the scope of a short blog).
Jesus calms the storm. “Codex Egberti” (10th century). Public domain.
The song I
picked for yesterday (8 October) was “Calm me, Lord, as you calmed the storm”. The words are by David Adam, a writer (one
might even say poet) in the Northumbrian Christian tradition, and the tune is
by Margaret Rizza who has written several devotional songs of this nature
herself.
It’s a short
reflective song asking Jesus to give us inner peace as he calmed the storm that
threatened to sink his disciples’ boat. This incident or ‘sign’ in the Gospels is
understood in Christian teaching to reveal that Jesus not only has supernatural
powers but also that he is so concerned about our individual troubles that he
will do whatever it takes to help us to cope.
But two things in the story stood out for me when I last preached on it:
that he only intervenes when the disciples actively call out for help, and that
while he stops the boat from sinking he doesn’t immediately take them to land
(on this occasion, at least). They were still
far out on the lake with water to be baled out of the boat and a long way to
row. Sometimes Jesus works miracles,
other times he just helps us to “keep calm and carry on”.
Today’s song from Sing Praise (it’s really not a hymn in the traditional sense) is ‘My Jesus, My Saviour’ by Darlene Zschech. Incidentally I’ve often wondered how her name should be pronounced. I have heard it said like either ‘Check’ or ‘Zetch’. But I’ve just looked up her Wikipedia biography where (using the international phonetic alphabet) it’s nearer ‘Check’. Anyhow, this is undoubtedly her best-known song and one of the most popular of its kind across churches of many traditions.
Perhaps its
popularity is in its memorable melodies (I leave John to comment on the piano
accompaniment), as well as a sort of feel-good factor in the words. According to the above-mentioned biography
(which is worth reading) Darlene wrote it during a time of personal struggle;
maybe that is why it resonates with so many people, as a song of hope and faith.
Jesus is indeed a ‘tower of refuge and strength’ at such times. And in the way that she finds the words and
music to praise God through difficulties, it’s really a Psalm for our times.
