Gloria

After the Kyrie, the next piece of music in the liturgy is the Gloria.  Some hard core liturgists out there might be shocked to learn that we are even singing the Gloria during Lent.  During this pentitential season, it's usually omitted from the worship rubric because of its celebratory nature.

Personally, I think the flexibility of the worship service to aid our faith is more important than any such "rules" laid down over the years.  There comes a point when we have to ask if a rule is being upheld simply to honor tradition or to enhance the worship experience.  I recognize that the problem inherent in such a standard is that people can disagree over it, but I hope that people will understand the edifying purpose of the deviation as we journey through the liturgy.

The text of the Gloria is not drawn explicitly from the Gospel of Luke, but clearly it is based on the message of the angels in the Christmas story.  It echoes the call for peace in the Kyrie in its opening lines, and it follows a tripartite structure that foreshadows the Credo to come.  In other words, the Gloria marks a turning point in the service; in the simplified liturgical order it is the point where we move from Gather to Word, with the lessons immediately following.

At worship tonight, we'll sing the Gloria as a congregation and David will sing a solo based on several classical sources that he has arranged especially for tonight.  Also, I'd like to mention breifly my Wednesday night preludes during Lent. I've been playing slow movements from Haydn's piano sonatas and will do so for the remainder of the season.  I often do a Lenten series of some sort.  (You might recall that last year I played various selections from Bach's Well Tempered Clavier.)  It creates a sense of continuity and sets aside the season as different from the regular church year, and to be perfectly honest it also helps my planning by quickly filling six slots in a busy season!

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty

We're singing another of my all-time favorite hymns this Sunday.  The tune "Lobe Den Herren" is among the most familiar and singable hymn tunes ever composed.  It rolls along like a pleasant folk song, meandering up and down the scale in a lilting triplet rhythm and ending each phrase with a lengthened cadence that gives it a sense of finality and arrival.  It's an absolute pleasure just to hum the tune, and I defy you not to smile when you do.

The text mirrors that joyful praise.  Many people can sing the first verse easily from memory:
Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation!
O my soul, praise him, for he is your health and salvation!
Let all who hear now to his temple draw near,
Joining in glad adoration!

Maybe you learned it with a different word or two along the way.  To me, the only proper text is the one sung by the St. Olaf choir in their rousing rendition.  I prefer the last line of the hymn to be "Join me in glad adoration."  The tune is so simple and pure that to me it makes sense for it to be in the first person, a call to join and share in celebration.  The final verse switches to the plural pronoun "we," which reinforces the sense of welcome to a community of believers.

The prelude this week will be an arrangement of the tune by Paul Manz, with the melody in a strong bass line, beneath a faster ritornello in the upper voices.  As with the text and the hymn itself, the entire piece builds to the joyful close:

Let the amen sound from his people again.
Gladly forever adore him!

I too sing praises with a new song!

We sang one of my favorite hymns today - Earth and All Stars - and the tune has been in my head all day.  The text epitomizes my fall theme, as nature, musical instruments, workers, classrooms, and people all join together in a joyful song of praise of God's "marvelous things."  There's a running joke among the choir that it's a pretty crazy hymn for its mention of boiling test tubes, but the universality of praise from all kinds of quotidian sources is part of what makes the hymn so great to me.

I heard plenty of positive comments about the choir anthem today, and I want to thank the choir again for devoting their considerable talents and time to enhancing our worship.  We've been having a lot of fun with the descants and psalm antiphons every week, and I hope they're adding some sparkle to your Sunday mornings.

I also had a few people ask about the tune of "Blessed Jesus at Thy Word."  They noticed that it seemed just the slightest bit different from what they had grown up with, and they were right!  The Bethany hymnal has the Bach harmonization, which in typical Bach fashion has plenty of added passing tones or what some of us now hear as "extra notes" compared to the LBW version, which often simplified hymns to a quarter note based chorale.  At second service, I played plenty of other versions of the hymn tune - from the simple to the highly ornamented, traditional to dissonant.  I hope the hymn tunes from this Sunday stick with you and brighten your week with hymns of praise.

Blessed Jesus, At Thy Word

This Sunday, you'll get to hear several variations on the hymn "Blessed Jesus, At Thy Word."  This is one of the great early German chorales that was in the LBW but unfortunately omitted from the ELW.  Thankfully, we have the Bethany Hymnal as a supplement!  The original tune was composed by Johann Ahle, a 17th century predecessor to J.S. Bach, who adapted several of Ahle's tunes as chorale preludes.

The meditative prelude will be a modern arrangement by George Thalben-Ball.  The dissonance will create a very different sound and mood, but the melody will still be clear.  By contrast, during communion and the offering (at second service), I will play Bach's highly ornamented arrangement and Flor Peeters classical sounding version, though he lived from 1903 to 1986.  In addition, we'll be singing "Blessed Jesus, At Thy Word" as the hymn of the day.  Hearing the same tune in such a range of settings can help hear the nuances and illuminate the text.  In this case, the text lines up perfectly with that goal (quoting from the LBW version): "Let our thoughts and hearts be stirred...Jesus, send yhour blessed light; Help our hearing, speaking, heeding, That our prayers and songs may please you, As with grateful hearts we praise you.

For the choir anthem, we'll be reaching back to the 16th century for a setting of an adaptation of Psalm 118 by Lodovico Viadana.  The music is rhythmically interesting, opening with a lilting waltz, followed by a joyful march-like section, then a polyphonic fugue where each section of the choir takes its turn in leading the melody, and finally returning to the original waltz.  Listen for the meter changes and how the composer uses them to change the mood.

The text continues our fall theme of Make Joyful Noise:
Hear the sound of joy over all the earth.
God has triumphed.
God is the mighty Lord.
Songs of joy sing to God the Lord.
The foe is conquered; glory be to God.

Happy Father's Day

The weather has been hot and muggy leading up to Father's Day. We're also approaching the longest day of the summer, which has both fallen into a pattern and seems to be flying by.

In honor of the holiday, we'll be singing several of the great hymns about fathers: "Children of the Heavenly Father" and "Faith of our Fathers." I'm expecting to hear enthusiastic singing on such old favorites!

I just finished reading the Percy Jackson novels this summer. They're excellent children's literature. (If you enjoyed Harry Potter, I definitely suggest that you check them out.) But rather than being magical, the stories are about demigods, children of the Greek gods. The overarching plot involves the rebellion of demigods in the face of the indifference of their immortal parents. The story draws out the contrast between the greek gods with their uncaring, distant relationship with their mortal children and the loving Father depicted in so many Christian stories. Greek demigods might truly claim to be "playthings of an angry god" while we view ourselves like the characters of "Children of Eden" - rebellious children of a loving Father. The image and the relationship of Father are always complex, but we are fortunate to have one who guarantees us unconditional love.

Practice, practice, practice

When I switch to the piano, it always seems to catch the ear of the congregation. I think that's one reason that so many people commented on this past Sunday's prelude. Since it's my first instrument, I always enjoy the opportunity to play some of the classical repertoire during the service from time to time.

By popular demand (or at least thanks to a few quite vocal requests), I'll be playing the Beethoven variations again as the prelude on July 4th. The more I think about it, the more excited I am to have the luxury of revisiting and polishing the performance. After all, one of the frustrations of a church musician is the lack of practice time. Every week there are 4 or 5 new hymns, a prelude, postlude, and offertory (in addition to the repeated liturgy). That much polished performance repertoire could represent as much as half a semester for most college students.

So in addition to trying to balance musical styles, volumes, registrations, a church musician is always trying to balance the difficulty of the service music. A virtuosic prelude gets paired with a simpler postlude; a newly learned offertory is played the same week as a more familiar prelude. For me, summer means a bit of a chance to catch up, to explore new repertoire, and to keep planning and learning.

John Lennon famously said that life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. Similarly, church music is what you play while you're struggling to learn and plan for the week ahead! I just hope and work to enhance the worship service, remembering that it's not a recital, and that next week is just around the corner so I'd better get back to practicing.

Patriotic music by Beethoven

This weekend marks the unofficial start of summer with the arrival of Memorial Day. For me, the holiday always brings to mind warm mornings spent toting my trumpet from cemetery to cemetery to play taps and marching with the band in the VFW's small parade in my hometown. Besides veterans, high school musicians may be among the most likely people in the country to observe the holiday properly for a moment at least - not simply going shopping or lounging at the beach.

This week's prelude will sound to the congregation like "My Country Tis of Thee." But I will actually be playing Beethoven's piano variations on "God Save the King." We don't get to hear much of Beethoven's music in church. He was a transitional figure from the classical, enlightenment period of the late 18th century toward 19th century romanticism. Furthermore, he lived at a time when he could make a career as a piano virtuoso and composer, no longer as reliant on employment as a church musician as Bach and other earlier musicians had been. For all these reasons, he composed very little that is appropriate for church music, so I like to take the opportunity to play this particular piece on patriotic holidays from time to time.

I know that some members of our congregation have been directly affected by our ongoing military engagements around the world, and I know that our prayers are certainly with them, our military and government leaders, and veterans on this holiday.

How did a week go by so quickly?

I don't suppose I can blame the way time has sped up this week entirely on Daylight Saving Time. But if you throw in our upcoming spring break and midterms, a little bit of yard work, and all the music of Lent, Holy Week, and Easter, there just hasn't been much free time left. I didn't even comment on Bach's recent birthday.

You have been hearing plenty of Bach in church lately, though, with more to come. First, David's solo this past Sunday was a great Lenten meditation during communion. The postlude was a selection titled "Sanctify Us" from Cantata 22. And tonight, the postlude will be a portion of the St. Matthew Passion, titled Wir Setzen Uns. The text is a bit ahead of the Passion narrative, but we've reached our last Wednesday Lenten service, so I think our focus appropriately shifts to the events of Holy Week.

The text of the chorale I'll be playing is translated as follows:
In tears of grief, dear Lord, we leave Thee.
Hearts cry to Thee, O Savior dear.
Lie Thou softly, softly here.

Rest Thy worn and bruised body.
At the grave, O Jesus blest,
May the sinner, worn with weeping
Comfort find in Thy dear keeping,
And the weary soul find rest.
Sleep in peace,
Sleep Thou in the Father's breast.

We've entered a season of contrasts: cold nights and sunny days, bitter rains and blooming crocus flowers, the crucifixion and the resurrection. Tonight we'll sing hymns of trust and confidence: "Restore in Us, O God," "Jesus, Refuge of the Weary," and "Now the Day is Over." The prelude will be based on Wondrous Love, contrasted with the postlude mentioned above. Our prayers and thoughts should be spurred on by this contrast and variety, as we await Easter.

Better than sunshine!

Tonight we'll be singing the hymn "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," and the tune will also feature prominently in the prelude. This hymn is among the most popular in the ELW, I would say, and most of us can sing the first verse from memory. What caught my eye on this sunny spring day, however, is this bit of text from verse 3:

I take, O Cross, they shadow
For my abiding place;
I ask no other sunshine than
The sunshine of His face...

The warm weather has provided such a boost to my mood lately, and I see that energy shared among my students and colleagues. Meanwhile, flowers are poking their way up in my garden and the snow is finally gone. I've been gladly running outdoors on roads and trails, and even a simple walk across campus can bring a smile to my face. So this hymn's suggestion that sunshine is less important than the Cross is particularly powerful imagery right now!

I think there's a Sunday school exercise in such thoughts - Lent is better than...sunshine, chocolate, recess, reading, etc. (Feel free to contribute your own in the comments!) Perhaps that's a better motivation for the practice of giving something up - to remind us that there are better and more important things in our time on earth. That's a more hopeful perspective than simply to suffer and recall suffering. My campaign to make Lent cheerful continues, I suppose...is it a misguided, Quixotic adventure?

Go uncomplaining forth

It's another snowy, slushy weekend in northeast Ohio. We've reached that time of winter when we it's all too easy to start complaining about the cold weather, the shoveling, and the wet shoes. Stores are starting to stock their garden supplies and spring bulbs, which only makes us more eager for spring and dissatisfied with the lingering winter.

This topic came to mind as I was looking over this Sunday's music, which includes the hymn "A Lamb Goes Uncomplaining Forth." (The tune will feature prominently in the prelude as well.) It reminded me of a line from the old Agatha Christie movie "Appointment with Death." A devout woman is asked if she is feeling well, and she responds, "What are my sufferings compared to those of our Savior?"

As I see it, that rhetorical question is one of two extreme attitudes that can stem from this line of thinking. One is exemplified by that quote: a maudlin meditation of the sufferings of the Passion story, which I fear can quickly become a joyless faith. The other approach is to cultivate a sense of gratitude and thanksgiving. Personally, I prefer to see the positive and hopeful aspects of this particular hymn text:

"A lamb goes uncomplaining forth to save a world of sinners.
He bears the burden all alone, dies shorn of all his honors."

Picking up on a topic from earlier in the week, perhaps we treasure simple hymn tunes like "Jesus Loves Me" because they so clearly express a simple, joyful faith of God's love. But even hymns that recount the Passion story should be a joy to us, and a reminder that we have few reasons to complain - even while we're shoveling our driveways for the third time in the same week!

From Purcell to Handel

It has been a busy week. It's amazing how one deadline and one night out can quickly send the week into a tailspin. I also seem to be just on the verge of picking up the virus that is making its rounds at work. Throw in a coming snowstorm, a pile of laundry, and all I want to do is get to a keyboard and make some music!

Music in general is a personal sanctuary for me. Time spent at the piano can be as good as a nap or a jog to recharge my day. My hope is always that church music provides the same effect. After all, stress relief is one of the scientifically measured benefits of church attendance.

This week my prelude and postlude come from a book titled "From Purcell to Handel." Purcell is an English composer of the late 17th century, while Handel is a German who spent a great deal of his professional career in England in the early 18th century. So for a musical compilation to have that title is a bit like saying from Herman's Hermits to the Beatles. This will be an opportunity to hear several pieces from the same era. The choir will be singing a Bach chorale, who lived during the same period, of course. After last week's plethora of modern music, this week will balance it out with a classical sound. I hope it inspires and refreshes you, so that we can all have a fresh start to the new week.

Open Now Thy Gates of Beauty

The opening hymn this weekend is providing the inspiration for much of the service music. I was rereading the text of the hymn "Open Now Thy Gates of Beauty," confident in my memory of a simple and straightforward hymn, just a joyous gathering tune and text. And that certainly is the overall mood of the hymn.

The middle of the first verse, however, caught my attention with these words, "...where my soul in joyful duty waits for God who answers prayer." The concept of "joyful duty" doesn't pervade the zeitgeist of modern America. Our psyches and daily actions are more geared toward "the pursuit of happiness." But it has long been my belief that the Christian faith is, at its heart, about joy in all things, even foreign ideas to us like "duty."

Suddenly the hymn took on more depth as I continued my reading. The final verse begins, "Speak, O God, and I will hear thee, let thy will be done indeed." Coming together at worship on Sunday is about duty and joy, praise and service, and all those ideas should be ever-present in our prayers.

Both the meditative prelude and the postlude will be arrangements of this hymn tune, the former by Jan Bender and the latter by Paul Manz, both well-known modern organ composers. I hope the music helps you hear the tune in a new way and that you pay special attention to the text when we sing it so that the music helps guide your prayer and worship.

A royal march, et al.

I thought I'd start my entry on this week's music by proceeding backward from the postlude. I'll be playing "Festive Voluntry" by Henry Purcell, who is a 17th century British composer. Purcell is not known as a church composer; he was principally a court musician and composed music for the royal family. Because of that, he's known mostly for marches and voluntaries.

It's precisely the non-sacred source of the music that made me stop to think this week. Why do we (meaning church organists, principally) still play non-sacred classical music like this for a postlude? It can be difficult to justify in some situations. My answer would be threefold: 1. it's good music that has stood the test of time; 2. not a lot of people are paying much attention to a postlude anyway; 3. royal marches symbolize Christ as king. Do you agree with those reasons? Do you have more of your own to add?

There's no such sense of unease about this week's prelude, which is a fugue by Walcha on the tune "Wie schon leuchtet der Morgenstern." The most common text to this tune is "O Morning Star How Fair and Bright." This particular arrangement doesn't literally spell out the whole tune, but you can hear snatches of the well-known tune among each of the three voices in the fugue. Listen carefully for how Walcha has updated and added to the tune, or hum along when you hear familiar snippets.

Old winter folk tunes

No, we won't be singing any Woody Guthrie tunes this Sunday. The English and French folk tunes you'll hear are centuries old. The English tune Greensleeves is highly recognizable as the melody of "What Child is This?" It's a popular tune in the hymnal with multiple texts. This week we'll be singing the communion text "What Feast of Love."

The French folk tune is not as well known. "Une jeune pucelle" is the tune of the hymn 'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime. We won't actually be singing the hymn, but the tune is the basis of my prelude this week.

The influence of French music and composers on Lutheran church music has always been less than the German, and to a lesser extent English influence. It's not surprising that the sounds of Luther and Bach are still with us, after all. But it can be a nice change of pace to go outside that traditional musical literature for a different sound.

The prelude is a theme and variation on the traditional tune, composed by Jean-Francois Dandrieu. He was a French composer from the Baroque period, and you can hear the traditional counterpoint of the era in the way the soprano melody interacts with counter-melodies below it. Listen for the folk tune within the more complex music and sing with gusto during communion this week.

Pachelbel's Magnificat

Today is the last day of the semester, consisting of my last final exam, turning in my last term paper, and finishing up my grading. At long last, I will be able to turn my attention to preparing my home for guests and putting finishing touches on church music! This week our brass players rehearsed the music for Christmas Eve, and it only heightened my excitement for the services. There should be an abundance of beautiful music.

This Sunday, however, it is still Advent, the time of preparation, and my musical focus continues to be the Magnificat. The Psalm for the week is the text of Mary's prayer of thanksgiving from the Gospel of Luke (making the name "psalm" a bit of a misnomer, I suppose). This often overlooked musical moment in the service is the text and inspiration of much of the music for these past weeks.

I've mentioned before that I grew up in a very Catholic town, very aware of their veneration of Mary. Of course, the novels of Dan Brown and other popular works have reinvigorated interest in the "divine feminine." Lutheran theology and music certainly don't elevate Mary to the point of worship, but in this season of preparation I find the text of the Magnificat to be an important reminder of the physical reality of Mary's pregnancy.

A famous Latin Christmas chant begins "O Magnum Mysterium," reminding us that the incarnation is a great mystery. This week, my prelude will be selections from Pachelbel's Fugues on the Magnificat, Mary's prayer of mystery and exaltation. This last Sunday of Advent provides us a chance to express the wonder and the joy and expectation of the festival to come. I encourage you to pay special attention and sing with extra gusto during the Psalm!

From Buxtehude to "rock"

This Sunday will demonstrate my usual goal of incoporating music from a wide variety of styles. The service has some of the greatest hymns from the ELW, including "At the Lamb's High Feast We Sing" and "On Our Way Rejoicing," the latter of which will include a choir descant on verse two.

The prelude will be Passcaglia in d minor by Buxtehude. I hope that's a name that is becoming familiar by now. This particular piece is built on a simple 7-note ostinato bass. An ostinato is a short phrase that is repeated throughout the piece, much like a canon. Pachelbel's Canon in D is familiar to most people, of course, and you can probably think of how that piece involves a repeated chord progression.

The Passacaglia in d minor represents Buxtehude's interest in symbolic numerology (an interest he shared with Bach and many other notable men and women of their era). The 7 note ostinato takes up 4 bars and occurs 28 times over the course of the piece. Overall, the structure modulates into 4 different keys, each of them for 28 bars. I've heard it described both as a tribute to Mary and as symbolic of the phases of the moon.

The choir's anthem, titled "Go, Ye, Into All the World," is composed in an entirely different style, with a driving rock beat (or at least as rock-like as a traditional ELCA service normally gets!). The song alternates between an up-tempo chorus that encourages us to "Spread the Gospel to every people" and lyrical verses. Overall, the text is based on Christ's "Great Commission." Not only is it a great piece of music on its own, but it also provides the perfect contrast to the Baroque prelude.

Requiescant in pace

That's Latin for "rest in peace," the reason that so many Halloween decorations include the abbreviation RIP. But don't worry, no more Latin from here on out.

In recognition of All Saints Day, this Sunday's choir anthem will be a selection from Rutter's "Requiem." Many people have heard it and recognize it as a favorite choral work. It has beautiful lyrical melodies, and the text is a powerful prayer of intercession as we remember family and friends who are no longer with us:

Grant them rest eternal,
Lord our God, we pray to thee.
And light perpetual
Shine on them forever.

We'll also be singing the classic hymn "For All the Saints," which was composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams. It has a great folk-song sound, and this Sunday I'll be playing several different variations on it as we sing its several verses. The concept is that the hymn will grow from a unison call to worship, symbolically like one voice in the wilderness, that will grow in intensity and volume to the final verse and its mention of the gates of heaven and all of the earth singing praise to God.

Last, a quick mention of the prelude. I'll be playing three movements from J.S. Bach's Fifth French Suite on the harpsichord. The French Suites are collections that are based on Baroque dance music. You might be able to imagine men and women in powdered wigs and period clothes. Or you can simply enjoy the upbeat music to begin your morning.

Don't forget to set your clocks back this weekend!

Grace is a way of life

I drove by a church with that quote on its sign the other day: "Grace is a way of life." I think it sums up Reformation Sunday and Lutheranism pretty well. Of all the church holidays, this is the most artificial; it isn't based on Gospel events. Sometimes, though, I like to think of it as a fall celebration that echoes the themes of Easter. Plus, it's a favorite of mine as a musical highlight of the fall.

This Sunday's prelude will be my personal favorite arrangement of "Ein Feste Burg" (before I put the tune away for a few months, I promise). It's by David Johnson, a great modern composer and organist, and it features a pedal cadenza in the middle of a bombastic arrangement that I just love to play. It's a big piece for a prelude, but I think it will get the morning off to a great start and have us all humming and smiling as worship begins.

The meditative prelude, on the other hand, will be a lyrical piano piece titled "Berceuse" (French for lullaby) by the French composer Godard. I'll also be playing the piano during communion - a great piano arrangement of "The Church's One Foundation." For those of you who prefer modern sounds from the piano, I think you'll really enjoy both.

The choir will be joined by a guest trumpet player to enhance several parts of the service: a descant on the opening hymn, the Psalm antiphon, and of course the anthem, which this week will be "Upon the Rock of Faith." On Wednesday night, Lisa commented that Reformation is "all about the rock," which is a great way to summarize the music and the hymns this week. Remember to wear red and come ready to sing and celebrate!

Vincent Lubeck Prelude and Fugue

My regular readers and listeners will know that I tend to draw heavily from hymn-based materials for my service music selections. I take great pleasure in weaving together the hymns and service music in coordination with the choir, readings, and sermon to present a unified message for the week. On some occasions, however, it's a nice change of pace to play a piece from the standard classical organ repertoire, providing a chance to enjoy the music and your own personal silent prayer and meditation.

When you think of Baroque organ music, and in particular German organ music of the 17th and 18th centuries, the only name to spring to mind is likely Bach. If you're a regular reader of my blog or a real music connoisseur, you might know of Buxtehude as well. However, that place and period were a hotbed of organ composition. Bach is the acknowledged master of the craft, but he flourished amid very talented contemporaries.

One of those fellow organ composers was Vincent Lubeck. He was the organist at St. Nikolai in Hamburg, which was home to one of the world's largest organs at the time. Unfortunately, much of his music has been lost over the centuries. There is also added confusion because his son shared his name and profession, and it's unclear whether some pieces were composed by the father or son.

This Sunday, I'll be playing a Prelude and Fugue in a minor believed to be composed by Vincent Senior, splitting it between the prelude before the service and the fugue after. The music demonstrates several characteristics of the period - the ornamentation, virtuosic scales (particularly the opening few measures), and inversion and episodes in the fugue. It may sound like Bach to a casual listener, but it's a great opportunity to expand your repertoire of Baroque organ composers.

And now for something completely different...

This coming week, we'll be leaving behind the sounds of Bob Dylan in favor of Bach and Tallis. Our ears may suffer from a bit of musical whiplash, as we zip back in time hundreds of years!

The prelude will be a selection from Bach's Orgelbuchlein or "Little Organ Book," though it is often referred to as "The Liturgical Year." Bach had planned to compose 164 chorale preludes that would span the liturgical year, thus providing music for every Sunday, but he completed only 46 of them. For the most part, they are four-voice counterpart arrangements of famous hymn tunes. They present the familiar melodies in a novel setting, so that we hear the melody in a new way.

The particular piece for the prelude is a setting of "In Dir Ist Freude," which we translate "In Thee is Gladness" in the ELW. It's a text that I have quoted before, noting that the confident declaration of faith and joy is even more powerful when we realize it was composed during a time of religious turmoil and battle. We'll be singing the hymn during the service, and I felt it provided a great opportunity to hear Bach's version of this well-known hymn.

The choir will be singing during communion, a piece by Tallis, who lived for most of the 16th century. It has a strong rhythmic element, and to our ears will sound like a minor key (though technically modal). Don't let your ears get lazy, though, the investment of attentive listening to the text and the rhythmic vitality will help you realize that even music that is nearly 500 years old can still be relevant, exciting, and even fun to listen to.