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Live from New Orleans – it’s Hymn by Hymn with Friends! Today’s guest is the sweet Rev. Katie Kandarian-Morris.

What a great conversation! We sang this hymn and realized that even ministers don’t always pay attention to all the words – and it’s easy with this joyful tune, to get caught up with the fun of singing it and not pay much attention. In our conversation, which I will post tomorrow (I’m running into some technical issues with my cloud storage), we talked about that, plus how much we struggle with the theology of Easter (and a colleague’s solution), and Katie even shared a story or two about one of our other hymns. Plus, if you do listen, you’ll get a preview of a conversation I’ll be sharing later this week.

What I am glad of, though, is that we do have this hymn, which I love singing on Easter Sunday and really no other time of the year unless you’re doing a series like this. Here are our lyrics:

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Earth and heaven in chorus say, Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply, Alleluia!

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight the battle won, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids him rise, Alleluia!
Christ has opened paradise, Alleluia!

Hearts are strong, and voices sing, Alleluia!
Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!
As he died his truth to save, Alleluia!
Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia!

Soar we now where Christ has led, Alleluia!
Living out the words he said, Alleluia!
Made like him, like him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!

I can’t help it. I love this tune, I love this song, I love how fully we dive into the Easter message here. We last sang the tune to lyrics by our man Sam Longfellow, a lyric I have sometimes used on Easter to help those struggling with Easter to think more broadly about resurrection. But WOW I love this lyric, by Methodist co-founded and prolific hymn writer Charles Wesley; they say he wrote over 6,500 hymns – must be some kind of record.

—

Today’s the last of my New Orleans conversations – what this has proven to me is how wonderful it is to sing hymns with others, and how personal they are, despite the communal experience. I’ll be doing more of this here and there, but tomorrow, it’s back to the solitary practice. Hope you enjoyed it!

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Live from New Orleans – it’s Hymn by Hymn with Friends! Today’s guest is the fantastic religious educator Katy Carpman. 

I am sorry this is late and incomplete – the day has utterly gotten away from me. I am thrilled, however, that you can listen to our conversation here. And … Katy actually did some homework in preparation of our conversation! Loved our time together. (A few thoughts of my own after the text). 

When Mary through the garden went,
there was no sound of any bird,
and yet, because the night was spent,
the little grasses lightly stirred,
the flowers awoke, the lilies heard.

When Mary through the garden went,
the dew lay still on flower and grass,
the waving palms above her sent
their fragrance out as she did pass.
No light upon the branches was.

When Mary through the garden went,
her eyes, for weeping long, were dim.
The grass beneath her footstep bent,
the solemn lilies, white and slim,
these also stood and wept for him.

Remember how I wasn’t upset by the lack of rhyme in O Come, All Ye Faithful? Well, that moment has passed. There’s rhyme here, lots of it, but DEAR GOD “PASS” AND “WAS” DO NOT RHYME.  Bless her heart, lyricist Mary Coleridge tried. But wow, that sits badly on my hear.

Otherwise, how much do I love that Mary Magdalen gets her own song? A celebration of her role in the Easter story finally! She goes to the upper room to tell the disciples the tomb is empty, and then shares some of the teachings she received from Jesus. Peter the Mansplainer can’t handle the fact that he might have told her anything he didn’t tell the rest of the guys and gives her a warning. But still, she persisted, and as the Gospel of Mary shows, she spoke about the Soul and Mystery in a way only a woman could, and at least Levi told Peter to sit down and shut the hell up.

The tune, which we last sang just before Christmas – in the spring and summer tunes section, of course – is a lovely German tune that, as I remarked before, is simple and hardly dull at all.

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Live from New Orleans – it’s Hymn by Hymn with Friends! Today’s guest is the sweet Rev. Marcia Stanard. 

We had such a great conversation, wherein we challenged ourselves to lean into the particularities of ALL the world’s theologies, including Christianity. We also talked about the connection between resurrection in nature – I shared a fascination with the resurgence of Mt St Helens – and the resurrection of Christianity. 

Perhaps most interesting to me, from the beginning of our conversation, which you can listen to here, was Marcia’s observations about a change we made to the first line of the second verse. We sing “Love by hatred slain” – but the original line is “Love whom we have slain.” I thought the change was good – and it is – but Marcia offered a “yes…and,” suggesting that the changed line could be read as removing our responsibility for the culture that saw Jesus as a threat… othering the evil as though we have no part in it. Take a listen and see what you think of this perspective. 

Of course we also talked about the tune, and hymnody in general, and the possibilities of a book that could emerge from this, and hopes for a hymnal commission, and a bit about the stories I am gratefully receiving from Mark Belletini. I hope you’ll listen. 

Meanwhile, here’s our text: 

Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain,
wheat that in dark earth many days has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:

(Chorus)
Love is come again like wheat that springeth green.

In the grave they laid him, Love by hatred slain,
thinking that never he would wake again,
laid in the earth, like grain that sleeps unseen:

(Chorus)

When our hearts are wintry, grieving, or in pain,
Love’s touch can call us back to life again,
fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:

(Chorus)

This lyric, by John MacLeod Campbell Crum, an early 20th century Anglican priest, is not for the faint of heart. In fact, it gets right to the heart. And, in true UU fashion – even though he wasn’t a UU – it does that great thing of connecting the Christian Easter story to nature’s resurrection.

We sang the tune not long ago, in Sing We Now of Christmas, which appear to be the original lyrics (translated from the French); yet Noel Nouvelet is the common tune for Crum’s lyrics, too – so make of that what you will. It’s somewhat joyful but not really; there too is a bittersweetness.

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Live from New Orleans – it’s Hymn by Hymn with Friends! Today’s guest is my delightful new friend Karen Eng.

Karen and I met way too early after a long but wonderful opening worship last night. We sang the hymn, and then our conversation devolved into a wide ranging discussion about how the hymnal is our sacred text. After all, as she pointed out, we don’t use any one source, but rather collection from many – and our hymnal is in fact printed evidence of that collection. And more, the fact that we have two supplements – one of songs and one of readings – is further evidence of the truth we hold, that revelation is not sealed.

Our conversation – which, I am sorry to say, was not recorded – then veered toward questions of what a new hymnal commission might do. Will they add a lot more of the new music we’re getting from our UU Musicians Network composers? Will we continue to challenge the languages of oppression and discrimination without diluting the strong and powerful theologies from our sources? Will we keep singing A Mighty Fortress and this hymn as evidence of the history of our living tradition? So many questions that a new hymnal commission – whenever it happens – will have to address.

But on to the hymn. Karen and I didn’t actually talk much about the hymn itself, so I am taking a few moments now to do so. Here are the lyrics as printed:

O sacred head, now wounded,
with grief and shame bowed down,
now scornfully surrounded
with thorns, thy only crown:
how art thou pale with anguish,
with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish
which once was bright as morn!

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
Let me be thine forever.
And, should I fainting be,
oh, let me never, never,
outlive my love to thee.

I admit taking a double take when I got to the second verse; I’m used to a verse that goes something like this:

My Lord, what you did suffer
was all for sinner’s gain;
mine, mine was the transgression,
but yours the deadly pain.
So here I kneel, my Savior,
for I deserve your place;
look on me with thy favor
and save me by your grace.

Yet when I looked it up on Hymnary, the three common verses include this one, yes, but also the two we use. And yes, we have a shift in lyrics in verse one – the received English translation is much more unsavory: “Yet, though despised and gory,
I claim you as my own”… so I rather like our lyric.

And as this is an English translation of a German translation of a Latin text, who the heck knows anymore?

What I do know is that this is a classic Good Friday hymn, and I am glad we include it – it’s a haunting tune that captures layers of meaning.

Finally, some of you may notice that parts of this tune seem somewhat familiar in a different context; Simon and Garfunkel used a variation of this tune for the song “American Tune” – fascinating, eh? Here’s Paul Simon singing it two years ago on Stephen Colbert:

Our featured image today is the crown of thorns plant – a brilliant suggestion by my brilliant colleague, the Rev. Suzanne Fast, who is hanging out with me while I dash this off and who indulged my search for the Paul Simon video.

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Live from New Orleans – it’s Hymn by Hymn with Friends! Today’s guest is the wonderful Rev. Lyn Cox. 

Lyn and I sat down to sing, and while it looks on paper as though it would be easy to sing, it’s oddly tricky. Thus, I am not sure we had a great singing experience. 

We did, however, have an amazing conversation about this text.  

Now in the tomb is laid,
who in the wide world walked,
and talked with one and all.
Now in the tomb is laid.

Now in the tomb is laid,
who told the sparrow’s worth,
the lily’s praises said.
Now in the tomb is laid.

Perfect, no wound nor mark!
By thine own hardest hour,
do live within my heart.
Perfect, no wound nor mark!

This text was written by Irish poet Padraic Colum to accompany one of the Stations of the Cross statues which appears at St. Thomas’s Roman Catholic Church in Chicago. The tune, by UU music director Gerald Kechley is, well, appropriate but not inspiring to me, anyway. I don’t know what tune you’d put to it – anything I can find in 6.6.6.6 is just…wrong. Too old-timey, too cheerful, too…wrong. So while I don’t love Kechley’s tune, it’s a whole lot better than anything else out there. 

 It does make me think I’d rather use this poem as a reading, not as a hymn. Lyn saw the possibilities of having it sung – and we imagined using it at a tennebrae service or an Easter sunrise service. 

We also found ourselves falling into the trap of universalizing these lyrics, and our conversation, which you can listen to here, explored meaning, interpretation, the language of reverence, and the need for ritual to be witnessed versus experienced. 

Much like yesterday’s time with Monica, sharing this spiritual practice with Lyn has been incredibly rich and meaningful. I am grateful. 

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Live from New Orleans – it’s Hymn by Hymn with Friends!

Starting today and going through next Monday, I will be meeting up with some of your fellow readers at General Assembly to sing the day’s hymn and talk about hymnody and music, and of course the day’s hymn. I’ll then write up notes from the conversation, and when possible, provide audio of our conversation.  Note that I will include my regular historical, theological, and musical commentary after the lyrics, preserving this upper part for these great conversations.

First up, the lovely and recently ordained Monica Dobbins!

We started off, like you do, singing the hymn and getting a sense of the tune. As this is the same tune as When Jesus Wept, I was recently familiar with it – Monica didn’t know it but picked it up quickly, thanks in part to her experience as a child in a church that followed a shape note tradition.

So it’s all going along okay, and then we get to the third verse…

When Jesus looked from Olivet
on city gold with towers white,
with sudden grief his eyes grew wet,
and soon his weeping drowned his sight.

He found the dream of prophets past,
of justice crowning every head,
now shattered: by the truth of caste,
by children lost, by lack of bread.

They cried “Hosanna” on that day
while strewing palms upon the path,
but who was sighing all the way?
And what the nature of his wrath?

BAM.

This is not your average ‘yay, party in Jerusalem’ hymn. This one captures something really amazing about Jesus, his ministry, and the anger that leads him to disrupt. As readers know, I have long been a fan of Mark Belletini – and this one hits it out of the park.

I love too that Mark set it to this traditional Palm Sunday tune – and while we might not sing it straight through as a round in this version, it lends itself to some interesting options. I love its solemnity, especially married with Mark’s lyrics – it’s a perfect marriage reflecting the bittersweetness of the day we sing about.

My conversation with Monica ranged from the singing experience, to the theology, to the possibilities of preaching (without trying we found three Palm Sunday sermons in this text), to even challenges in congregational singing. I encourage you to listen to the audio – a scratchy 25 minutes of fascinating ideas and exchange. (Note: if the link doesn’t work, I apologize in advance and will fix as soon as I am able  – which might be tonight.)

I will also say that having someone to sing with and talk about a hymn with is amazing. As Monica noted in our conversation, singing together is a vulnerable act, which may be one reasons it’s so powerful. I need to sing these with others more often – because in fact I was moved to tears more than once this morning. I am just so glad I have the chance to do it for six more days!

 

 

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I begin with a program note:

Hymn by Hymn at General Assembly begins tomorrow! I’ll be having breakfast with some of you, singing our hymn of the day, talking about it, and then reflecting on the experience. Because of the schedule at General Assembly, the posts this week will be later than normal, probably by noon Eastern.

Now, on to our hymn:

It may be that I am sleep-deprived, or that the humidity has already gotten to me (even though I slept well and am in a gloriously well air conditioned room), but I do not get this one.

I mean, these lyrics by John Howland Lathrop, a longtime minister at First U Brooklyn in the mid-20th century, just do not make sense to me.  Who are the foolish peasants? Are they foolish because they believe Jesus is the messiah?  And is verse two knocking the two millennia of Christians who think revelation is sealed? Are the courts of power going to crucify modern prophets? The third verse is pretty good, but I’m inclined to take offense at the first two, and I don’t even identify as Christian.

Hosanna in the highest! Our eager hearts acclaim
the prophet of the kingdom, who bears Messiah’s name.
O bold, O foolish peasants, to deem that he should reign!
The temple and the palace look down in high disdain.

Long ages dim the message, and custom has sufficed
for merchants and for princes to bow, and own him Christ.
But when another spirit arises from the plain,
the courts of power tremble, and crucify again.

O first of many prophets who come of simple folk
to free us from our bondage, to break oppression’s yoke:
restore our minds to wisdom, make known the life, the way
that leads through love and justice unto the peace-crowned day.

What am I missing here?

I will say that the tune, Ellecombe, is a solid 19th century German tune that is used with similar, but less (to me) offensive Palm Sunday lyrics. It’s your basic German hymn tune, with your basic hymn tune patterns and that one line with the high notes and then resolves in a familiar way. Nothing remarkable, but definitely serviceable and tinged with joyfulness and perhaps a bit of triumph.

These lyrics, though…

I really am not getting this one today, and your help in comments would be greatly appreciated.

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This is an amazing little piece.

Written by William Billings, a 17th century composer from Boston, it is musically lush; according to Between the Lines, Billings was known for his ‘fuguing tunes’ as well as writing songs and choral pieces in support of the Revolution (he is considered to be the first American choral composer).

This tune is a pleasure to sing, and even more a pleasure to hear.  And the lyrics are so simple yet so complex:

When Jesus wept, the falling tear
in mercy flowed beyond all bound.
When Jesus groaned, a trembling fear
seized all the guilty world around.

There are about a dozen sermons in those four lines, and I am feeling disinclined to write much of anything about it today (unlike yesterday when I gave you a sermon). Instead, I will leave you with this beautiful rendition:

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Good news, everyone!

After a week of wreaking havoc in the house, the little squirrel finally found his way into the have-a-heart trap where he enjoyed a feast of peanuts and peanut butter around 5:30am… and then found himself dining al fresco as we moved the trap outside. It’s quiet in the house now. We will rest better knowing the critter won’t be climbing the drapes and scurrying across our bodies as we sleep.

Phew.

So now, on to our hymn – a fun-to-sing chant from the Jewish tradition, composer unknown (as many of these little chants are). It’s a refreshing change from all of the Christmas songs – not that some of them weren’t amazing, but it was a long month, and I’m glad to moving on to Holy Week.

With a little Jewish chant.

Oshana, shira oshana!
Oshana, shira oshana!
Oshana, shira oshana!
Oshana ha navi hava vshem Adonai.

So why is this listed under Palm Sunday?

It helps to know that in English, it’s “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” which is from Psalm 118:26 and is directly referenced in Mark 11:9, as Jesus rides into Jerusalem, a move I find wildly interesting.

Now this next bit has very little to do with the song, but I rather like this part of the narrative. Here’s how I explained it to the congregation this past Palm Sunday:

Here’s this man, from a faithful Jewish family, who’s got an incredibly radical and inspirational message. He has gathered people around him to learn, and to help him preach his message and share his story. He reveals in what we call miracles the healing power of love, compassion, and hope. But because he’s telling the establishment – which is simultaneously church and state – that they’re missing the point of their own faith, and because this radical spiritual message is a radical political message too, his ministry is becoming a bit of a problem for the establishment.

 Who live, work, and rule in Jerusalem.

So here’s this guy, with all these pieces – a message and a call he can’t deny, all of these lives he’s changed, all of these people following him, this sense of destiny, an angry government breathing down his neck, and he’s probably wondering why he didn’t just stay quiet and do whatever it was he was doing before he met John the Baptist.

I can tell you, no matter who you are, ministers have moments wondering why they ever answered the call. And then we remember that we could do no other.

 Anyway… while the gospels paint Jesus as this all-knowing deity, what I think is more likely true is that he arrived at this moment, with all these pieces, and yet having this vision of bringing truth, hope, healing, and love to all of “his” people. And so, he put them in motion, and played the game out in his head a bit.

In the days and weeks prior to this moment, Jesus starts playing eleventh-dimensional chess: He’s still teaching, to be sure, and we are getting some of the more political parables, like the workers in the vineyard who all get equal payment because God’s love is available to all, like the rich man who is told it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God. And we also get hints from Jesus that he is seeing the costs of his ministry, that he might die, that it could be hard for him and for his closest followers.

He sees the whole board – how the moving of one piece will cause another piece to move, and another, and another.  He may not know exactly what will happen next, or what piece will react more aggressively, or what the surprise moves might be.

He may not know exactly how, but he knows he must move the first piece.

In this case, it’s saying “I have an idea! Let’s observe Passover in Jerusalem.”

Now some might argue the whole ‘riding in on a donkey’ thing was a storytelling device to connect Jesus to the prophesy of Isaiah. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus was schooled enough as a faithful Jewish man to know that the iconic image of his riding in on a donkey would make some people cheer and others uncomfortable.

And so he does, riding in with people in celebration mobbing the streets to see him, and singing a first century version of “oshana! Shira oshana!” Jesus plays the crowd a bit, cheering them on, which provokes his opponents’ next move.

Eleventh-dimensional chess indeed.

Anyway. This is a sweet, fun chant to start off Holy Week.

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O happy day. (Oh happy day)
Oh happy day! (Oh happy day!)
When this blog (when this blog)
Oh when this blog (when this blog)
Oh, my goodness, when this blog (when this blog)
Got to Epiphany! (Oh happy day!)

I was saying to my sister last night how tired I am getting of Christmas hymns and that thankfully it’s almost over. I somehow thought I had one more Christmas carol proper before hitting this song of the Epiphany, so imagine my joy! I mean, holy cow, it’s been since the middle of May with this Christmas stuff. But now we’re at the Epiphany, the liturgical day when the Magi arrive from the east to bring gifts to Jesus and his parents.

Now to me, it’s a pretty dubious moment, only appearing in the Gospel of Matthew, and you have to wonder if this was a storytelling trope to impress upon the earliest listeners and then readers of the importance of this child’s birth. And remember, this is the gospel that carefully details the lineage from David, so Matthew isn’t messing around here with the “this birth is important” stuff. And while the gifts are not exactly what a new mom really needs (diapers and blankets would have killed them?), they are all part of that Important Birth of An Important Person thing that Matthew’s banging on about. And I gotta say, it’s rather anathema to the whole “poor baby born in a manger” vibe the birth narrative is otherwise going for.

But I digress. (I blame the squirrel, who MIGHT have escaped finally late last night but not before ripping down the curtains in my room.)

Here we are, with this intriguing holy day, and this carol – which on its own isn’t THAT bad, except for all the terrible versions of it that we’ve heard and sung over the years that make it cloyingly annoying and trite. And at least we have one Epiphany carol, thanks to a 19th century Episcopalian named John Henry Hopkins, Jr.

We three kings of Orient are; bearing gifts we traverse afar,
field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star.

(Chorus)
O Star of wonder, star of light, star, with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding, guide us through this perfect night.

Frankincense to offer have I, incense owns a Deity nigh.
Prayer and praising, all are raising, worship God most high.

(Chorus)

Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom;
sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stone-cold tomb.

(Chorus)

Born a babe on Bethlehem’s plain, gold I bring to crown him again,
love forever, ceasing never, in our hearts to reign.

(Chorus)

I give the guy credit – Hopkins tried to imbue the tune and the lyrics with majesty and import. And done right, without the drinking-song-ishness of the “Ooooh….oooohhhh” that leads into the chorus, it achieves it. But I’m sorry to say we’ve probably ruined this one in our sloppy Christmas caroling.

And so here it is. We nod to this stop in our Christian liturgical calendar, because to skip it would be inauthentic. Plus, many times we need to put this story in some context, and it’s good to have a familiar song to do it with. It’s clearly not a favorite of mine…but I don’t mind singing it today, because it means tomorrow we start Passover.

Oh happy day!