Credo guest blogger

When I conceived this project, the model and inspiration was the famous radio series (and book) "This I Believe."  In that series, Edward R. Murrow invited submissions from an incredible range of people.  Of course, I think he had an easier time getting responses from powerful and important people!  In the spirit of casting a wide net, though, I sent emails and letters to all kinds of people that I thought might never write back.  No harm in inviting participation, right?

Well, one of the people who was kind enough to respond with a brief message was Senator Sherrod Brown.  For those of you who don't know, Senator Brown shares our Lutheran faith, so it seems particularly appropriate that he was willing to participate.

Before getting to his comments, I'll take one moment to stress the obvious disclaimer that the blog and the church take no political stance by reprinting his comments on faith.  Furthermore, invitations were sent to politicians of multiple parties at the local and national level.  As of this writing, Senator Brown was the only respondent to address the question in a personal message.  Now, here is the message the Senator emailed to me:

"My Christian faith plays an important role in my life.  My commitment to social, economic, and family issues consistently guides me in my civic duties.  For me, the New Testament's emphasis on serving the poor is profoundly important.  Jesus walked among the poor, advocated for the poor, and stressed our responsibility to the poor.  As a public servant, I work to help those who are in need and it is the most personally rewarding part of my job."

Library Lady - Gloria

This week I'm recommending a title from a very popular series, namely "The Berenstain Bears Give Thanks."  In that story the young members of the Bear family learn the meaning of the holiday of Thanksgiving.  It's a good holiday to recall in the spring because the Gloria cultivates a positive attitude of celebration.  Plus, it's so closely related to the liturgical song we sing in place of the Gloria sometimes: "This is the Feast."  Thanksgiving is always one of the biggest feasts of the year, but it still pales in comparison to communion!

The story is a great way to share the meaning of Gloria with young members of the church.  We recognize God's glory as reflected in the blessings of our own lives.  That's worth singing about every week!

Soli Deo Gloria

The Latin phrase "Soli Deo Gloria" is familiar to all church musicians.  Bach famously wrote it on his manuscripts, and many composers since then have picked up on the habit.  The picture with this post is from Handel, and you can see it has been shortened to SDG.  It can be translated as "To God alone be the glory."

This attitude pervades my own approach to church music.  I've always been uncomfortable with concert series in churches solely as concerts, and even special music during a worship service can veer dangerously toward the feel of a recital.  The purpose of music performed in a church is to glorify God and enhance worship.  Bach himself put it this way: "Music...should have no other end and aim than the glory of God and the recreation of the soul; where this is not kept in mind there is no true music, but only an infernal clamor and ranting."

This Sunday the Wittenberg Choir will be visiting, and they will be fully incorporated into the structure of a worship service that still includes readings and prayers and communion.  Maintaining the liturgical structure allows us to remember that the beautiful music is not an end in itself, but a symbol, a guidepost pointing in the proper direction.  The only difference between a hymn and an anthem, or between the prelude and the liturgy is the people who are participating directly in the music.  In all cases, the music is to the glory and praise of God.  Soli Deo Gloria.

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!

Kyrie guest blogger

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus wrote that no one can step into the same river twice as a metaphor for continuous change in our lives.  In the same way, despite repeating the lyrics and often the tunes of the liturgy each Sunday, the meaning can still be different for each of us and can change dramatically from week to week.

A few weeks ago, my undergraduate college advisor passed away.  He was a philosopher and a wonderful teacher, who inspired a group of students on our journey through the Western Canon in St. Olaf's Great Conversation program.  His final weeks inspired a poem on his Caringbridge website, and more than anything else I could say here it is a tribute to him and to the power of the simple words of the liturgy to carry immense meaning for our daily lives:

From the land of the living

From the bedside of hospice

From the foot of the cross

...every moment precious...

Lord have mercy

Christ have mercy

Lord have mercy

Library Lady - Kyrie

I'm back for Kyrie week!  This time I want to talk about a book for the kids and for the adults.  For the kids, I suggest the title "Mama, Do You Love Me?" by Barbara M. Joose.  It's a beautifully illustrated story about an Inuit mother and daughter.  The story is specific to the arctic, with descriptions of mukluks and puffins, so it's an opportunity to talk about Inuit culture and the geography of Alaska and Canada.

The story also relates perfectly to the theme of mercy.  The little girl begins the story by asking her mother "Do you love me?"  The mother replies with strong metaphors about the vast extent of her love.  The girl proceeds to suggest all kinds of hypothetical situations where she makes mistakes or something bad happens.  In response to each, the mother affirms her love.  Even when she is angry, she tells her daughter, she still loves her.

It's important to notice that we need mercy most when we have erred.  Mercy doesn't spring from a Zen-like calm; it isn't simply a synonym for gentleness or kindness.  Instead, mercy is most vital when there has been offense and anger.  Like children who have made a mess, we sin, and even in frustration and anger, God forgives us.

Portia makes that same point eloquently in Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice."  (That's a picture of Maggie Smith playing the role; she's one of my favortie actresses!)  When she rescues Antonio in court in Act IV, Portia notes that mercy cannot be compelled in one of the most famous passages ever written:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.  It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

The value of mercy is precisely that it is a voluntary gift that lies outside the law.  What a perfect metaphor for God's forgiveness of our sins!  I hope the stories help you understand and contemplate the meaning of Kyrie, and I'll be back next week.

Message in Music

I found this video by David Neff on his blog a few weeks back and have been looking for an opportunity to share the message here.  Since we recently sang "A Mighty Fortress" and the music is so entertweined with the themes of our Lenten services, this seemed an appropriate time to share it here.



The Worship and Music Committee at Bethany has definitely accepted David's call to align the hymns with the readings and message of the week.  I also do my best to find service music and choral pieces that further complement the season and meaning of the service, so that the worship experience each week is one coherent story from prelude to postlude.

Prayers of the church

Yesterday, I wrote about the Litany of Peace that begins our Kyrie.  Today, I want to mention the remaining two lines of the text.  The Kyrie turns its attention to the church and its members.  First, we sing "For this holy house, and for all who offer here their worship and praise, let us pray to the Lord."  I'm likely over-reading the text, but I've always been a fan of the word "all" in this text.  It does not say that we pray solely for members of the church or anything of the sort.  We pray for all who offer worship and praise, visitors and long time members, clergy and staff.  I'm convinced that churches need to be inviting places of peace, mercy, and inclusiveness to thrive; just as Jesus dined with tax collectors and people from all walks of life, so should we welcome all into the embrace of God's mercy.

The final line of the Kyrie is a request: "Help, save, comfort, and defend us, gracious Lord."  Since this text comes near the beginning of the service, I think of it as asking for His presence throughout the rest of the service and the week ahead.

Kyrie

Tonight we begin the new weekly theme of Kyrie.  This is the first portion of the Ordinary of the liturgy.  It is called the Ordinary because it is comprised of the texts that are repeated every week.  This distinguishes it from the Proper, which changes every week.  Lutheran churches have moved away from most of the sung portion of the Proper, but it includes such things as the Introit, Gradual, and Collect.  We do retain it in some places, such as the communion blessing before the Sanctus, which changes depending on the season or festival.

But back to the Kyrie.  The text could not be simpler: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison.  It translates simply as Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy; Lord, have mercy.  Thus, it follows naturally from the Confession.  Mercy is entertwined with forgiveness.

The phrase can be found in scattered passages throughout the Old and New Testaments.  For example, Psalm 4: "Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness: Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer" and in the sotry of Jesus healing two blind men (Matthew 9), they first get his attention by calling out "Have mercy on us, Son of David."

The ELCA liturgy follows the Great Litany of Peace, in which the first three petitions concern peace.  "In peace, let us pray to the Lord."  Followed by "For the peace from above and for our salvation, let us pray to the Lord" and "For the peace of the whole world, for the well being of the church of God and for the unity of all, let us pray to the Lord."  The text is a dramatic prayer for peace, mercy, and forgiveness.  We will sing it tonight as part of our Lenten devotion, and may it set our minds at peace as we pray for that peace to extend out to encompass the world.

Full Disclosure

This past fall, I got to see Bebe Neuwirth and Nathan Lane on Broadway in the new musical version of "The Addams Family."  Of course, they were both brilliant.  As for the musicall, it was an enjoyable trifle.  Despite less than gushing reviews, the show is still a fun experience.

What does it have to do with this week's theme of confession?  Well, the act one finale is a song called "Full Disclosure."  It is described as an ancient Addams tradition for everyone at dinner to sip from a sacred chalice and confess something they've never told anyone.  Thanks to a mix-up, the stories lead to scandal and chaos in the household.

The show allows audience members to write down their own full disclosures, and some of the best appear on their website.  They range from extremely silly to the occasional profound thought.  A similar need to confess plays itself out in everything from cop shows to anonymous Internet comments.  Sharing our thoughts can bring us closer to each other, just as confession brings us closer to God.

It brings to mind one of my favorite poems, one that I memorized in high school.  It reminds us how important it is to confess our feelings, especially of course, words of love:

We are spendthirfts with words,
We squander them,
Toss them like pennies in the air -
Arrogant words,
Angry words,
Cruel words,
Comradely words,
Shy words tiptoeing from mouth to ear.
But the slowly wrought words of love
And the thunderous words of heartbreak -
These we hoard.

Tolstoy's Confession

Tolstoy was a man plagued by existential doubt and a lifelong religious struggle.  His Confession is the story of how he faced nihilism and confusion to return to his own unique faith.  He explores science and philosophy, music and literature, and a variety of religious perspectives in his search for faith.

Late in the work, when he has returned to faith, he writes about the beauties of the rituals in church.  He tells us that "the most important words in the liturgy became more and more clear to me."  He finds beauty in the simple and honest faith of the Russian peasants, rather than the writings of philosophers.

Tolstoy recognizes the shortcomings of the church and the mistakes that are made by some people in the name of the church.  But in the stories and the music, the Bible and the liturgy, he recognizes a deeper truth that improves his life.  We all struggle with our faith at times, and Tolstoy's writings remind us that struggle can be an important part of our confession.

Library Lady - Confession

Hello!  I'm the Library Lady, and I'll be visiting every week during Lent to recommend books that relate to the themes of the liturgy.  The books I suggest will be perfect for younger members of the church to read or share with their parents, and I know that some of the choir members will even be using these titles during children's sermons.  The goal is to spark discussions among families and invite our younger members into the conversation taking place at Bethany throughout Lent.

The theme this week is Confession, so I want to tell you about a book titled "I'm Sorry" by Gina and Mercer Mayer.  The book features the well-known character of Little Critter.  In this book, he learns the importance of apologizing when he does something wrong.  Even if it's just a mistake, you still need to say "I'm sorry."  Even further, it's important to be more careful and try to do better.  That's the same thing we do at the beginning of worship when we say the confession, telling God that we are sorry for our sins.

There are plenty of other great books in the library that remind us of the importance of heartfelt apologies.  In the book "Junie B. Jones and Some Sneaky Peeky Spying," the main character learns that she's wrong to believe that "You don't actually have to mean I'm sorry 'cause nobody can even tell the difference."  In fact, a contrite heart and desire for forgiveness is an important part of confession.

Another of my favorite books on this theme is "The Berenstain Bears and the Truth."  Curious George also seems to be getting into trouble all of the time and apologizing for his mistakes.  There are lots of great books on this theme, and I hope you get the chance to at least one this week.  If you do, I hope you'll share your thoughts, and I'll be back next week with more recommendations.

Augustine's Confession

The original tell all autobiography, authored by a bishop in North Africa, is more than sixteen hundred years old.  I first read it in college, and I've enjoyed flipping back through it to reread my comments and underlinings.  What's most amazing about the book is how much we can relate to Augustine.  His temptations and sins are so familiar to a modern reader, which reminds us that no matter how much our lives have changed over the centuries human nature has remained remarkably similar.

Among the most famous passages is in chapter 8, when Augustine has decided to leave behind his sinful ways and reform his life.  But he still finds himself putting off the change:

"...I, convinced by the truth, had no answer to give except merely slow and sleepy words: At once - but presently - just a little longer, please...but 'just a little longer, please' went on and on for a long while."

Who hasn't promised to make a change in his or her life that never seems to happen?  From the diet that always starts next Monday to the career change or move and everything in between, we can relate to Augustine's struggle.

Shortly after his struggle to submit to conversion, Augustine also noted that human pleasures are satisfying primarily when they follow discomforts.  In his words, "There is no pleasure in eating and drinking unless they are preceded by the unpleasant sensation of hunger and thirst."  Feeling a bit under the weather today myself, I know that I will appreciate my health more soon.  Going through the experience of Lent makes Easter that much sweeter.  We confess in order to be forgiven, and Augustine's story reminds us not to delay but to take action.

The Lenten Liturgy Project

During Lent, Bethany will be focusing our devotions around the themes of the liturgy.  You'll hear it in the music and the sermons, and the discussion will continue here on the blog.

Tonight, on Ash Wednesday, we began the series by discussing the role of confession.  Technically, confession is not part of the ordinary liturgy.  However, we do begin most of our worship services with a confession.  While humble self-examination can be a difficult challenge, I think tonight's service avoided the dreary dirge-like atmosphere that can ruin the experience of Ash Wednesday and Lent in general.  By singing "Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling" during the imposition of ashes, we reinforced the theme of reconciliation rather than self-abasement.

Many of us think of ourselves as living good lives, working hard and doing our best.  So maybe the more important sins to consider are the sins of omission.  The text and the form of the Lutheran confession do not ask us to list petty sins we have commited during the week.  Instead we admit that "We have not loved [God] with our whole heart.  We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves."  Rather than being punished for mistakes, perhaps we could view the confession as a chance to acknowledge how often we do not live up to our potential.

Looking ahead, I want to mention below the dates and topics coming up.  I am so excited about some of the "guest bloggers" who have already submitted comments, and I would welcome anyone to be in touch by email or in the comments!  Join us in this discussion in our journey toward Easter.

March 9-15: Confession
March 16-22: Kyrie
March 23-29: Gloria
March 30-April 5: Credo
April 6-12: Sanctus
April 13-19: Benedictus
April 20-23: Agnus Dei
April 24 (Easter): Alleluia!

Six services in eight days

If you needed proof that Easter is more important in the church calendar than Christmas, I think the count of services alone can provide some evidence! It's definitely the busy time of year for church musicians (as well as clergy, volunteers, and congregations, of course).

The interesting thing, however, is that while I spend more time in the church and play more hymns, I actually end up playing less organ repertoire. For one thing, guest musicians get put to work on Palm Sunday and Easter, but we also observe the continuity of the story by not having a postlude on Maundy Thursday and by having neither a prelude nor postlude on Good Friday.

During this week, we spend more time in silence. Our Wednesday evening services have also represented this meditative mood of Lent. At several points in the service, we observe a moment of silence. Typically, I'm a bit preoccupied with thinking about the next moment in the service, because it is often a hymn.

I appreciate the silence as the necessary canvas for the art of music, and I savor the change in pace from the noise of our lives. But I also wonder about the liturgical intention of those moments. Whereas the ELW sometimes notes very specifically the purpose of silence ("Silence for self-reflection," for example), at other places it simply notes, "A moment of silence follows." Is that a moment for prayer? For meditation? To listen? Or just to rest and take a moment to "be" rather than "do"? Maybe it can be all of those things, dependent on many factors.

I heard the host of "Radio Lab" preach on the story of the sacrifice of Isaac, and he noted that even though Abraham often spoke and even argued with God that when given such a strange order, the story progresses without recording any dialogue, simply an implied silence. Silence can be obedient or rebellious, empty or full of meaning. In the silence of this week's services, perhaps take a meta-moment to reflect on the very topic of silence.

Making space

I heard Krista Tippett, host of NPR's "Speaking of Faith," describe Lent not as a time of "giving up" but of "making space." My personal feelings toward the idea of giving something up for Lent have likely become clear to my readers. I don't see self-abnegation as a proper act of thanksgiving and praise of a loving God.

But I do see the wisdom of making space. The busier life gets, the more I can come to appreciate time taken to go for a run, to make music, or simply to relax and enjoy the company of friends and family. Ironically, taking a break can make us more productive. Adding another item to our weekly schedule can make the rest seem easier and better. That's why giving up an hour of life for a Lenten service can be a joy, rather than a burden. That's even why I think giving up candy to replace it with a vegetable can be a wise choice. We aren't simply giving up something we like; we are replacing it with something better for us.

There aren't many days of Lent remaining, of course, but the idea of making space in our lives for prayer, music, and church should be with us all year. Can you give up an evening for choir rehearsal? Or can you simply give up 10 minutes of sleeping in on Sunday morning for fellowship before church, and prayer during the offering? That would be the kind of giving up and making space that I can understand!

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?

The Lenten Gloria

Last week, I wrote about the "missing" Gloria during Lent, but anyone who has worshipped at Bethany on Wednesday lately might have noticed that we're singing a modified Gloria during that service.

The music of our Lenten services is more chant-based. For some people, it conjures up images of medieval monks singing Vespers and Compline at the end of the day. With the darkened windows, black vestments, and Lenten music, we gather to hear and contemplate the Passion story. The service is a soothing, meditative bed-time prayer in these early spring weeks. In the midst of those services, it might be easy to overlook this hymn of praise, so I'd like to draw your attention to the joyous nature of this chant text:

Joyous light of glory:
Of the immortal Father;
Heavenly, holy, blessed Jesus Christ.
We ahve come to the setting of the sun,
And we look to the evening light.
We sing to God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit:
You are worthy of being praised
With pure voices forever.
O Son of God, O giver of life;
The universe proclaims your glory.

Good-bye to the Gloria

We have entered the season of Lent, which brings with it several changes in worship. While we chose not to change the setting, observant worshippers have no doubt noticed the new or missing pieces of the liturgy. Among the more notable changes is that we no longer sing the Gloria near the beginning of the service. (Alleluias are gone as well, but I'll save that for another day.)

The liturgical calendar is full of such quirks and rules, and some people are fascinated by the many proper things that must be included or excluded in any given service. But there are other people who feel compelled to ponder the status quo and constantly ask questions: Why, exactly, do we not sing the Gloria during Lent?

There seem to be only two answers to this question. The first, and simplistic, is that it is tradition or canon law or some such variation on "That's the way it has always been done." In its simplest version, I can't say that I find this argument particularly compelling. For one thing, an awareness of church history will uncover the many arguments and changes that have taken place in the liturgy over the centuries. It wasn't until the 11th or 12th century that priests were including the Gloria as a regular part of the Mass. Maybe it has been done this way for hundreds of years, but to make decisions based on that argument alone is a sure route to stagnation (and didn't Martin Luther himself work hard to overcome improper traditions?).

Dig a little deeper, and it is sometimes explained that the reason behind this tradition/rule is that Lent (like Advent) is a penitential season. The Gloria is not in keeping with the introspective nature of these Sundays. So it would appear that we are to spend 40 days seeking forgiveness, which will be granted on Easter. I know that most Catholic churches will not perform baptisms during Lent for the same reason.

Personally, I hope that we can always balance supplication with praise, even during Lent. At the same time, I do find comfort and meaning in the regularity and certainty of the liturgy. Like a mantra (or even just the habits and patterns of daily life), we can overcome thoughts about the mundane, arbitrary decisions in life and focus on higher thoughts and prayer. The changes made during Lent can refocus our attention, but I do still miss the tuneful prayer of praise that is the Gloria. Why wouldn't God want us to sing hymns of praise every day of our lives? Do you miss the Gloria or do you find that it creates new meaning in the season of Lent? Is liturgical tradition a comfort or a straightjacket - or something in between?

I won't be playing it again for weeks, but here's the text of the Gloria to hum to yourself in the meantime. Don't you agree it's a sentiment worth expressing every day?

Glory to God in the highest,
And peace to His people on Earth.

Lord, God, heavenly king,
Almighty God and Father.
We worship you; we give you thanks.
We praise you for your glory.

Lord Jesus Christ, only son of the Father.
Lord God, lamb of God,
You take away the sin of the world.
Have mercy on us.
You are seated at the right hand of the Father.
Receive our prayer.
For you alone are the holy one,
You alone are the Lord.
You alone are the most high,
Jesus Christ.

With the Holy Spirit,
In the Glory of God, the Father,
Amen.