Following

The theme of this Sunday's service is "follow me," and we'll hear the story in the Gospel of Matthew where Jesus begins calling his disciples away from their work to join his ministry.  As part of that theme, we'll be singing the hymn "Come, Follow Me, the Savior Spake."  I was reading the text tonight and realized just what a downer it is:

"Come follow me," the Savior spake,
"All in my way a biding;
Deny yourselves, the world foresake,
Obey my call and guiding.
Oh, bear the cross, whate'er betide;
Take my example for your guide."

Sometimes there is a tension in the church's message between the Good News and the theme of suffering and self-abnegation embodied in this hymn.  (The hymn only gets more explicit in verse four: "in suffering be undaunted.")  That's a tough message to sell to the world at large (and it's certainly not the kind of message to bring new singers to a choir!).

Instead of focusing on the sacrifices of faith, I wish that we as a congregation and a broader church would think about where we are leading and the example we are setting.  Are we living in such a way that anyone would want to follow us?  Are our lives made any better from our church attendance?  Are we making joyful noise and embodying the good news of God's love?

One of my favorite books is titled "Orbiting the Giant Hairball" about working creatively within bureaucracies, as both a leader and a follower.  One of my favorite analogies in the book is when the author compares the role of following to a water skiier.  The best water skiiers are active, with a great deal of flexibility and freedom of movement, yet they are always cooperating and communicating with the driver of the boat.  I like to think that Jesus similarly prefers us to be fully participating followers with a great deal of independence to find our own way behind his leadership and to enjoy and celebrate the experience.  Rather than a slow trod in single-file, doesn't water skiing seem like a more joyful and free way to follow?

Jesus' call to his disciples is not to an easy life, and the path of the righteous is narrow, I know.  But I also believe that the community of faith and God's love can make even the difficult times joyful.  Different churches and different people place a different level of emphasis on the struggles and the joy of the Christian faith.  We'll try to find a balance this week, but we will close on an upbeat note with the hymn "Rise, Shine, You People!"  I hope it sends us all out of the church as joyous followers.

So what's your excuse now?

Lutherans are singers.  I know this.  It's encoded in the DNA of our church, and it's one of my favorite things about being an organist in the ELCA.  And yet...every church struggles for choir members and participation throughout its music program.

Like most music directors, I've heard pretty much every excuse and every explanation.  But I just want to let everyone know that we're taking away one of those excuses for the next few weeks.  We're moving choir rehearsals to Sunday afternoons.  So if you're one of the people who has told me that you're busy on Wednesday nights, or you're one of the people who just can't get yourself out of the house on a dark winter evening, now you can just stay after the second service and sing with us for another hour.  You can set aside another hour of peace and calm in your week and enjoy some time making music with friends.

If you can't sing, maybe you'd rather play in the bell choir?  We're rehearsing between the services (9:45 - 10:30).

Easter may be months away, but planning for Holy Week and Easter are currently at the top of my to do list.  I would love nothing more than to have a huge choir for that most important festival of the church year.  We have 21 choir robes to fill.  Think it over.  Make it a New Year's resolution, part of your commitment to the church - and now there's one less excuse to give it a try.

Epiphany and Martin Luther King, Jr.

I've heard from a few people that my posting habits have gotten slack this winter.  I apologize, but the craziness of the holidays were followed by busy weeks of travel.  January has finally started to settle into a rhythm, and I shall strive to write more regularly.

We've entered this year's long season of Epiphany.  With Easter falling so late, there is a long stretch between Epiphany and Transfiguration, eight Sundays that don't immediately bring to mind hymns or themes of the church.  The hymnal simply labels a number of hymns with the heading "Time after Epiphany."  It's a season of the year without a strong message or purpose, and it leads us to a grab bag of familiar tunes this week.

We'll sing "Hail to the Lord's Anointed" and "Soul, Adorn Yourself with Gladness," two upbeat hymns of praise.  At communion, the text "What Feast of Love" will be paired with the tune Greensleeves, likely still stirring memories of Christmas.

And we'll close with the civil rights anthem "Lift Every Voice and Sing."  The song is now more than 100 years old, but it still speaks so eloquently of the American experience.  When I think of the hymn, its strong, lilting beat immediately springs to mind as a joyous march.  Rereading the text this week, though, I was reminded again of the depth and breadth of emotion and meaning packed into its three verses.  The hymn offers praise: "Let our rejoicing rise high as the list'ning skies."  But it also recognizes a difficult and contentious past: "Stony the road we trod, bitter the chast'ning rod."  After such a difficult second verse, it resolves not only with trust in God, but service to "our native land."

There is a great deal of rhetoric lately about building a more civil and understanding society.  Balancing passionate activism and advocacy with understanding and respect is always a challenge.  But it's one that Martin Luther King, Jr. and other great leaders strove to overcome.  On a grab bag Sunday in the season of Epiphany, that wouldn't be a bad message to contemplate and enact in our lives - perhaps as a late New Year's resolution for civility and compromise.

A quick New Year's hymn

It's not a church holiday or festival, but the new year deserves a hymn, don't you think?  Here's the text of one that I found online.  Just something to get us started in 2011:

Another year is dawning!
Dear Father, let it be,
In working or in waiting,
Another year with Thee;
Another year of leaning
Upon Thy loving breast;
Another year of trusting,
Of quiet, happy rest.

Another year of mercies,
Of faithfulness and grace;
Another year of gladness
In the shining of Thy face;
Another year of progress,
Another year of praise;
Another year of proving
Thy presence all the days.

Another year of service,
Of witness fo Thy love;
Another year of training
For holier work above.
Another year is dawning!
Dear Father, let it be
On earth, or else in heaven,
Another year for Thee.

The Grinch and the Shawshank Redemption

Christmas is not always a happy time for those of us who work in the church.  Advent Vespers and Christmas services alone are more work than a typical July for a church musician, and I know that pastors, secretaries, and volunteers in churches everywhere feel that same strain, as do mothers and fathers as they decorate and buy gifts.  The holiday season has perhaps become more famous for its stress than its joy.  Throw in days of shoveling, a chaotic final exam schedule, and travel plans and you have the makings of a very Grinch-like blogger.

Yesterday, I spent hours baking and cleaning and packing and preparing for services, enjoying it and yet moaning about it.  I had become a Grinch, and my Advent was no longer about preparations for Christmas but a yearning for the blissful calm of January.

Then in the evening, we sat down to watch a movie - The Shawshank Redemption.  An odd Christmas choice, perhaps, but my significant other had never seen it, and since he's a big fan of the television series "Prison Break," Netflix thought he would enjoy it.  I hadn't seen it in years.  And when the movie reached the scene where Andy plays the duet from the Marriage of Figaro over the prison public address system, I suddenly remembered what the Christmas season was about.  It did, indeed, redeem the season for me.

Music restored my calm, and helped me rediscover the purpose of the season.  In the movie, Andy says, "You need [music] so you don't forget...that there's something inside that they can't get to, that they can't touch, that's yours...Hope."

It may seem trite, but it took that reminder for me to discover again the beauty of the music and the message of Christmas.  My ears were opened again to the music, so that I can enjoy the choir and bell choir and brass and organ and piano tonight.  I can focus on the beauty and joy, and the redeemer that came to us two millenia ago.

I hope we can communicate that message with you tonight, and I hope you all have a blessed and merry Christmas.

Bethlehem Sunday and John the Baptist

We continue our Advent preparations.  This time of waiting is not the impatient foot tapping of the grocery store line but the pleasant work of preparing our homes for guests, just as we prepare our church and our hearts, minds, and souls for Christmas.  The call to remind us of this preparation comes from John the Baptist.  The hymns this week reinforce the lessons perfectly: On Jordan's Bank the Baptist's Cry; Comfort, Comfort Now My People; and Hark, the Glad Sound.

These are the great hymns of Advent that we sing only once a year and hear only in church.  Shoppers at the mall miss out on such joyous texts as "Hark! A Thrilling Voice is Sounding!...Cast away the works of darkness all you children of the day!"  That hymn's concluding verse reminds us of God's everlasting power, embodied at Christmas: "Honor, glory, might, and blessing to the Father and the Son, with the everlasting Spirit while unending ages run!"  Take note of the prayers during Advent, which reinforce these same themes.  They always include the line "Stir up your power, O Lord."

This second Sunday of Advent has come to be known as Bethlehem Sunday.  To match that theme, the choir will be singing an arrangement of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" by Ken Jennings.  The new tune highlights the text as a gentle lullaby.  I hope it conjures the beauty of cold, dark, starry nights.  But the song also reflects the joy of the coming holiday, as each verse reaches a dramatic climax describing God's power, before ending again in the quiet lullaby of expectation and waiting.

A moment to rant

Saturday's edition of the Akron Beacon Journal included an article (reprinted from the Cleveland Plain Dealer) that fired me up as I read it, and it still nags at me today.  It was the sad story of the planned closing of Broadway United Methodist Church in Slavic Village.  The 92-year-old church will be closing after Christmas.  In some ways, that is just one more anecdote of the challenges facing the greater Cleveland area.  Of course, church closings have become all too common around us, and they are always a tragedy.

However, what got me worked up were the quotes that implied the closing was inevitable or part of a natural cycle.  Why has this defeatist attitude been allowed to flourish in recent years?  Where would we be if past generations had seen shrinking congregations as a normal part of a cycle?  The beautiful churches of Cleveland were built in expectation of a perpetual congregation, and the church as a whole has flourished for over 2,000 years!  Why are so many leaders (clergy and laity) willing to accept defeat?

I realize that we face economic problems and that the city population has diminished significantly from its peak.  But there are still plenty of people here, and the church can play an important role in rebuilding.  We cannot simply convene for one hour on Sundays and ignore our broader responsibility to the congregation and community.  Because of that belief, I found the more hopeful quote from the article to be the comment that change is necessary.  As we see congregations and budgets shrink, as churches around us close, rather than wait for our own demise, let's seek out the lessons and opportunities to grow.  So how can we adapt and grow at this time?  How does the church stay relevant to the community?  I have my own broad set of ideas and answers - and music is part of them, of course.  I'm sure many of my readers have their own ideas too.

Maybe a first, small step is to volunteer in our own church, to attend the upcoming Vespers service, and even to invite a friend or neighbor to come along.  Advent is a season of hope, not fatalism, so let's all do what we can to create a bright future for our church.