Tag: penitence

Wait for the Lord, whose day is near

Today is Advent Sunday, and the song I chose from Sing Praise is titled ‘Prepare the way for the Lord’. It’s a phrase often used in Advent, as it sums up what the season is about, not only getting ready for Christmas but also for the final return of Christ in glory, whenever that may be.

But the song, one of the chants from the Taizé community, is actually better known by the start of its refrain or ostinato, ‘Wait for the Lord, whose day is near. Wait for the Lord, keep watch, take heart’.  This also describes the spirit of Advent: waiting for future fulfilment while at the same time being encouraged in the faith (‘take heart’) and making the most of the present time (‘his day is near’).

I made a mistake in sight-reading it at first, wondering why the first line of the ostinato is repeated, then the second, as that’s not how I’ve normally heard it. But then I realised the music staves carry on across the double page spread on each line, which is an odd way of setting it out.

The cantor’s verses, as often with a Taizé chant, don’t follow a fixed metre but fit in and around the ostinato.  The phrases are a mixture of familiar Biblical verse (‘Rejoice in the Lord always’, ‘God heard my cry’, ‘Seek first the Kingdom of God’) and what I presume are fresh ones (‘Joy and gladness for all who seek the Lord’, ‘O Lord show us your way, Guide us in your truth’).  But they all fit in with the atmosphere of this season, when we seek better knowledge of God and ourselves, balancing the sober introspection of a time of penitence with the joy of forgiveness (and of course unless you spend the whole four weeks on retreat it’s not possible to ignore the ramping up of festivities in the world around).

Body broken for our good

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is, as will be the pattern for the next few months, a communion hymn. “Body broken for our good” by Alan Gaunt is a traditional four-verse hymn that takes as its theme way in which Jesus’ death reconciles us to God. The text is available online here https://hymnary.org/text/body_broken_for_our_good  

This is not a celebration of victory on the cross (though there is a place for that), rather the mood is penitential, as it is only because of our sinfulness that the cross had to happen.  So it is that we ‘receive the body and blood to our shame’. The author didn’t shy away from telling the uncomfortable truth of human life: “Where earth’s children bleed and die, it is Christ we crucify”. So it’s not surprising that the suggested tune is in a minor key – the well-known Welsh tune Aberystwyth.

The failings of humanity are not just general – “every day more blood is shed” – but personal. The second verse acknowledges the singer’s own unworthiness. For that reason there is a long-standing tradition in many churches of receiving communion in a kneeling posture, unless infirmity prevents that. But the later verses offer hope – “in communion with this Lord, faith, hope, love are all restored”. The Christian hope is that however had we are as individuals or as a society, there is both forgiveness and restoration – at a price.

Forgive us when…

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is one by Martin Leckebusch from the selection for Lent.  The full words can be found on the Jubilate Hymns website.  Sing Praise offers two choices of tune, neither familiar to me, and John Hartley has composed one for the occasion in a minor key, but in fact as it is in the frequently used “long metre” (eight syllables per line) there are many suitable tunes and the Jubilate website suggests the well-known “Tallis’s Canon”.

The first line is “Forgive us when our deeds ignore your righteous rule”. In fact all the verses begin “Forgive us…”, which is a good clue to the theme, which is that of penitence (saying sorry to God for the things we’ve done wrong and asking his help not to repeat our mistakes). 

Traditionally the sort of sins repented of in Lent were greed, pride, lust and envy – sins of thought more than of deed, for the most part.  Not that those are suddenly acceptable these days, and indeed in verse two we confess “dreams of pleasure, wealth and pride” and in verse three “our endless greed for what was never truly ours” (more than a nod to the traditional vices there).   

But the focus of what we think of as sin has shifted in recent decades.  The things that Martin asks us to repent of include what we might call “woke sins”, thoughts and actions that harm the world and its people and our relationship with nature. More specifically, verse one refers to “decisions that harm the poor”, reflecting the  theology of “liberation” or “bias to the poor” that has become popular since the 1960s.  Verse three expands the concept of greed beyond personal acquisition to encompass the way “we harness this world’s brutal powers” (meaning perhaps its fossil fuel and nuclear energy, although it may also suggest structural and corporate greed riding roughshod over the poor).   

Verse four gives an interesting take on what ‘sin’ might mean in its widest sense: “we change the rules by which the game is played”. The Biblical understanding is that God’s commandments – his rules for living – are for everyone’s benefit.  But by changing those rules to benefit ourselves more than others, by making greed a strength and living sustainably with a view to the needs of others a weakness, we undermine the way the world was supposed to work.

The last two lines combine a traditional observance of Lent with this more contemporary understanding as we ask God to “help us walk your holy way, to make your world a better place”.  Personal holiness and concern for the world around us are not two opposing or different approaches to religion, they are more like the intertwining strands of DNA or the interplay of electricity and magnetism: only together can they bring life and power into being.

The Bible in a Year – 9 September

If this is your first viewing, please see my Introduction before reading this.

9 September. Nehemiah chapters 7-8

In chapter 7 the city gates have been completed although few houses have yet been rebuilt.  The reconstruction of a city after war is both a difficult challenge, and also an opportunity to make a new start in the way the city is built. It is also an opportunity to rethink how it is governed.  The city is put in charge of two men – Hanani the brother of Nehemiah (who presumably was, like him, an administrator by profession), and Hananiah the commander of the citadel, i.e. a military leader (7:2). This latter was chosen because he “feared God more than most people”, and therefore would be a man of integrity. These two between them could make a good go of this challenging situation.

Chapter 8 records the reading of the law to the people.  There had been several generations without a functioning civil society. Levels of literacy would have been low, and the younger people would have no knowledge of the traditions of the Temple and its laws. So they have to be taught.  Ezra and thirteen other men carry out this task over the course of a week. The picture this passage gives of the assembled crowd bowing down together in response to the reading of the scripture is remarkably similar to how Islam is still practised.

Many people wept when they heard the Law being read.  Presumably that was when they realised that some of their actions and habits were in fact contrary to the religious laws, the penalties for which were often harsh.  But Ezra and Nehemiah – the civil and religious leaders – told people not to weep, but to rejoice.  They understood, as many people still do not, that the purpose of religious laws is not really to punish people, but to guide them.  Having scripture as a guide for life is actually something to be thankful for and happy about.  As Nehemiah put it, “the joy of the Lord is your strength” (8:10). And so the people celebrated with feasting and joy “because they now understood the words that had been made known to them”.

The Bible in a Year – 1 September

If this is your first viewing, please see my Introduction before reading this.

1 September. Daniel chapters 9-10

The prayer of Daniel in chapter 9, following the revelation that the Jewish exile would last seventy years, resembles those of King David or one of the other prophets.  It is a prayer of penitence not so much on his own behalf as on behalf of the nation. It is dated in the reign of Ahasuereus (who according to the commentaries is probably not the ruler of the same name in the story of Esther).

It is interesting that this intense prayer of penitence is followed by the appearance of the archangel Gabriel, while in chapter 10 three weeks of fasting is followed by an even greater epiphany.  Whether it is the laying aside of self-centredness in such religious practices, or the physical changes in the body due to emotion or hunger, that make someone open to such spiritual experiences, is difficult to say. But the association is a strong one.

The second appearance is of a shining figure who inspires both worship and fear. Christians might identify him as the Christ, or (since it seems this figure was not all-powerful against the ‘prince’ or guardian spirit of Persia without the aid of the archangel Michael) it might be another archangel.  But since the classification of spiritual beings is at best a subjective matter, let us just call him an angel (messenger) of God.

I will not attempt to analyse or explain the “prophecy of seventy weeks” in Chapter 9 as much greater Biblical scholars have failed in the attempt (just google it!)  I will just pick on one phrase, the “abomination that desolates” (9:27).  This too has had numerous explanations, most of which relate to the “desecration” of the Temple in Jerusalem.  This does not necessarily mean physical destruction – desecration is an extreme form of disrespect.

I refer you to an essay by the late Isaac Asimov titled “Pompey and Circumstance”.  There is a copy of it online. Read it and see what you think.

The Bible in a Year – 29 August

If this is your first viewing, please see my Introduction before reading this.

29 August. Daniel chapters 3-4

In chapter 3, three of the four Jewish exiles – but not Daniel himself – are thrown into the furnace for having refused to worship the golden statue that the king set up, and also refused the opportunity to recant.  They are saved by an angel (or maybe the incarnation of God himself, for the one “like a son of man” is a title Jesus took for himself). Nebuchadnezzar, in a fashion typical of this style of writing, immediately changes from persecuting the Jews to proclaiming theirs the official religion of his empire (as we saw in Esther).

 

Miracles aside, this is a story of true witness. We are not told whether the golden statue is of Nebuchadnezzar himself – though it might have been, since dictators are prone to having statues of themselves erected in their lifetimes – but whether it was that, or the image of a Babylonian god, to worship it (or the king himself) would for the Jews have been to break the greatest commandments.  These men passed the ultimate test of faith, which led to what should have been their martyrdom.  In every age there have been people of any religion whose faith has been strong enough to lead them down this path, and they are rightly honoured. But true martyrdom is always about suffering for peacefully holding to one’s principles in the face of violence and intolerance; those who claim as martyrs people who have killed others “in the name of God” fail to understand what a martyr really is – a peaceful witness to truth.

 

In our liberal society, we agonise over whether followers of one religion should be allowed to display symbols of their religion (be it crosses, turbans, painted faces or veils) or to be ‘witnesses’ in the sense of proselytising (explaining their faith to others with a view to conversion).  Sometimes the decision is reached that such symbols or witnessing should not be allowed in public places in order not to offend others.  This is regrettable, but it is a long way from state-sponsored torture.

 

In chapter 4, which is probably not to be seen as chronologically following the earlier one, Nebuchadnezzar sends another edict around his empire telling how he had another apocalyptic dream, that Daniel interpreted as predicting his downfall and madness (eating grass like oxen) until he should honour God’s authority. Again, this comes to pass (not immediately, but a year later) until after seven years of such exile and madness the king repents and ends up worshipping God.

 

This is harder to understand. Perhaps the lesson is that megalomania such as that displayed by Nebuchadnezzar and many other dictators and emperors over the centuries is itself a form of madness, and needs to be treated by an opposite extreme – an addiction to excessive power being removed only by the “withdrawal symptoms” of excessive humility. From a theological perspective, any action or attitude that causes us to rebel against God’s will might be seen as a form of insanity, and an appropriate form of penitence is the antidote to it.

 

These two chapters together – telling of martyrdom and witness, of rebellion against God and humble penitence – point us to spiritual principles that apply to every believer, to some degree. The challenge facing you if you are a person of faith is hopefully less life-threatening than that facing the three young men, but you may still find there are times when you are put on the spot to justify your faith-inspired actions (or refusal to act as instructed). Your ‘insanity’ or mine is hopefully much milder than that of Nebuchadnezzar or other despots, but nevertheless we need to be willing to confront it, and accept whatever form of penitence God considers necessary to bring us back to our senses.