By |

I’m trying – I really am. These songs, tho’…

We sing of golden mornings, we sing of sparkling seas,
of prairies, valleys, mountains, and stately forest trees.
We sing of flashing sunshine and life-bestowing rain,
of birds among the branches, and springtime come again.

We sing the heart courageous, the youthful, eager mind;
we sing of hopes undaunted, of friendly ways and kind.
We sing the roses waiting beneath the deep-piled snows;
we sing the earth’s great splendor, whose beauty ‘round us glows.

If I were in a different headspace, I’d be making some vaguely academic comments about Emerson and his journey with the immanent divine, which might include a dalliance into his exploration of Hindu texts.

And then I’d be commenting on the richness of the tunes from William Walker’s Southern Harmony and expressing gratitude for the preservation of these folk tunes.

But I am not in the right headspace today. My spiritual practice isn’t working to give me comfort or enliven thought. I suppose it’s true of any spiritual practice – sometimes you do it and it blows your mind, sometimes you do it and you check it off your To-Do list. Today is definitely the latter.

What has been helping are conversations with friends and colleagues – and a bit of immersion into the arts. My friend Micah Bucey, the fierce minister of the arts at Judson Memorial in NYC, reminded me that I need to both make art and take in art. Dr. Hal Taussig, one of my professors at Union Theological Seminary, says art helps us “enter the difficult sideways” so that we can approach the hard and sad and terrifying safely.

So… art.

Which I suppose these hymns are, too.

Maybe I’ve been doing as Micah and Hal have advised all along…

By |

Not so much a morning song as a meditation song…

The morning, noiseless, flings its gold, and still is evening’s pace;
and silently the earth is rolled amid the vast of space.

Night moves in silence round the pole, the stars sing on unheard;
their music pierces to the soul, yet borrows not a word.

In quietude the spirit grows, and deepens hour to hour;
in calm eternal onward flows its all-redeeming power.

Attend, O soul; and hear at length the spirit’s silent voice;
in stillness labor; wait in strength; and, confident, rejoice.

In the land of hymns I have never sung arrives this one.

The morning song series has become almost comical now, one of those ironies you couldn’t make up if you tried. So I was bracing for another one, having spent the night thinking about straight white men and the propensity for some of them to see themselves as victims in a world they perceive as having limited power, success, and love. Bring it on, I thought, do your cheeriest happy morning song while I realize how sad life must be for some.

This hymn surprised me. Set in a minor key, it is contemplative – a hymn I might use to introduce a time of meditation, much like I might use a piece from Mark Belletini’s Sonata for Voice and Silence. And its lyrics invite us into silence – over and over. Not the rollicking springing forth of life as we’ve seen in other morning songs; instead, we get quietude and the silent music of the universe, inviting us to be silent, to labor, to wait, and finally to rejoice confidently.

Wow.

In the last week, I’ve spent a lot of time away from social media and the news, grieving alone, seeking strength where I can get it, sitting in all of my feelings, hoping that strength will return, that hope will show through the cracks, that I will be able to act boldly and confidently again. This hymn gives my process permission to unfold as it has and as it will.

I thank all that is holy for this gift.

By |

I didn’t think I was of a mood to appreciate this one, and yet…

Morning, so fair to see, night, veiled in mystery —
glorious the earth and resplendent skies!
Pilgrims, we march along, singing our joyous song,
as through an earthly paradise.

Tall are the verdant trees; deep are the flashing seas;
glorious each wonder the seasons bring.
Brighter is faith’s surmise, shining in pilgrim eyes,
from which our waking spirits spring.

Age after age we rise, ‘neath the eternal skies,
into the light from the shadowed past:
still shall our pilgrim song, buoyant and brave and strong,
resound while life and mountains last.

Another day, another morning song. I did not have the buoyant experience many of my colleagues did yesterday, for many reasons. I left feeling still sad and fearful and angry, not finding the healing I had hoped would be present in the readings, words, songs, and sharing we would engage in. And I have been dreading this cycle of morning songs lately – it’s not fair, I keep thinking, that hope pushes itself in. I’m not ready for it, I keep saying – and I am sure you are tired of me saying.

Still, I opened the hymnal again, because of my commitment to this practice. I read the lyrics before I sang them today, not really noticing the third verse because it’s all happy pilgrim songs marching along. Blech.

But then I sang – the tune is actually not bad and easy to sing; it put me in mind of some of the camp songs I learned as a kid, for some reason. And it matches the lyrics well….so for better or worse, I at least had enough …whatever… to notice that.

And then I got to the third verse. “Into the light from the shadowed past”…”still shall our pilgrim song…resound while life and mountains last.” In other words, what we know is true IS still true, and we must sing it bravely and buoyantly and be strong….because if we don’t, who will?

Here. Here in this cheery morning song is a call to strength, to courage, to prophetic witness.

Yeah, I’m in for that. I don’t have a lot of hope inside me right now, despite all I am preaching. But I do know I have to keep on singing our songs of righteousness, justice, freedom, compassion.

By |

Another damn morning song.

You that have spent the silent night in sleep and quiet rest,
and joy to see the cheerful light that rises in the east,
that rises in the east,

Now lift your hearts, your voices raise, your morning tribute bring;
all nature join in grateful praise — rejoice, give thanks, and sing,
rejoice, give thanks, and sing.

So here’s my truth this morning – I am preparing to lead a service that will include hard feelings, tears, frustrations, and I’m trying to get the congregation to a place of at least some hope. It’s a hope I don’t feel yet. I am feigning faith today.  But I know sometimes that’s called for, when hope is needed.

So I’m finding it awfully annoying that my spiritual practice has me singing songs like this, shoving hope in my face when I’m not ready for it.

And I wonder if that’s the point (spoiler: it is). We don’t always feel this, even when all seems reasonably okay in the world. I know there are times when people come into our doors feeling all kinds of terrible, sad, traumatized – and I wonder what starting a service off with this song would be like for them. Would they, as I did when I encountered it this morning, be filled with rage and tears? Would I find a little hope in it anyway? Would it tell me this community might be a place to put down that burden?

I don’t know, but I have to assume that might be true. So… yeah. I’m not feeling this today, but these damn morning songs keep bringing me back to a truth that says love hasn’t ended, hope still exists, there is something more out there to hold onto in these dark times.

May it be so for all of us.

By |

Not sure I am ready for hope yet…

The morning hangs a signal upon the mountain crest,
while all the sleeping valleys in silent darkness rest.
From peak to peak it flashes, it laughs along the sky,
till glory of the sunlight on all the land shall lie.

Above the generations the lonely prophets rise,
while truth flares as the daystar within their glowing eyes;
and other eyes, beholding, are kindled from that flame;
and dawn becomes the morning, when prophets love proclaim.

The soul has lifted moments, above the drift of days,
when life’s great meaning breaketh in sunrise on our ways.
Behold the radiant token of faith above all fear;
night shall release its splendor that morning shall appear.

But when I am, this is the hymn I might turn to – because if nothing else, the middle verse reminds us that others have gone before and struggled against tyranny and hate, and we can turn to them and their loving example.

But that day is not today. I’m not there in the process yet. But it’s kinda nice to know this hymn is here for when I am.

By |

The timing of this hymn is awful, and I am not in a mind to find the bigger purpose today.

Bring, O morn, thy music! Night, thy starlit silence!
Oceans, laugh in rapture to the storm-winds coursing free!
Suns and planets chorus, praise to Thee, Most Holy —
Who was, and is, and evermore shall be.

Life and death, thy creatures, praise thee, mighty Giver!
Praise and prayer are rising in thy beast and bird and tree:
Lo! they praise and vanish, vanish at thy bidding —
Who was, and is, and evermore shall be.

Life nor death can part us, O thou Love eternal,
Shepherd of the wandering star and souls that wayward flee!
Homeward draws the spirit to thy Spirit yearning —
Who was, and is, and evermore shall be.

I’m struggling to sing today. This tune is so cheerful (Nicea – known as Holy, Holy, Holy) and strident, it’s feeling utterly off key.

And that’s about all I have to say.

Some of the shock is wearing off and the reality is setting in, and taking a broad view of creation feels terribly ineffective right now. Things are bad on the ground, in reality. Looking skyward doesn’t help one bit.

 

By |

The Universe has a sense of humor.

Morning has broken like the first morning,
blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning!
Praise for them, springing fresh from the Word!

Sweet the rain’s new fall sunlit from heaven,
like the first dewfall on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
sprung in completeness where God’s feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning
born of the one light Eden saw play!
Praise with elation, praise every morning,
God’s recreation of the new day!

It is, for me and millions of us, dark days. Hard mornings. As one colleague said on Facebook, I go to sleep and all is well, then I wake up, remember, and I cry. For those both shocked at the election results and scared of what might happen if the attitudes expressed in the campaign come to fruition, these are hard days, as we deal with a deep sense of foreboding and struggle to find a path forward.

So of course, I am starting the Morning series of hymns. Bright, shiny, beautiful dawns. And of course it starts with this otherwise popular, easy to sing, inspiring hymn, made popular in the 1970s by Cat Stevens.

Of course.

And of course, it’s a bright and crisp autumn morning here. The song matches the weather.

Oh Universe, what are you like?

The sermon kinda writes itself, doesn’t it. Always dark before the dawn, one day at a time, tomorrow is another day, etc. And the truth is, I’m not ready to write that sermon yet, or even that blog post. I’m not ready for the re-creation of a new day. I’m not ready to praise much of anything. I think that’s okay. If I were to bypass my own emotional process, I would be doing neither me nor anyone else any good.

But what I suspect these next few hymns will do for me – and maybe for you too – is hold the door open for when I’m ready to walk toward it. Some little musical reminders that life calls us on, that the world is forever turning, that we are still here.

Anyway. Be good to yourself in these days. Do the next right thing. Hold space. Love.

 

By |

I don’t feel much like singing today. And in fact, I considered skipping today – hoping you all would understand that for those of us who regularly answer the call of love and justice, the American presidential election results have at least temporarily silenced the music.

But here I am, and this spiritual practice today brought me a prayer:

God who fills the universe from the atom to the stars,
make firm my changeful heart so I may do my part
and bring joy to all the earth.

God who webs the universe with amazing mysteries,
make glad my fragile soul so I can see life whole
and bring hope to all on earth.

God who keeps the universe by the truths of living love,
make strong that love in me so I can set it free
and bring peace to all on earth.

I am grateful for the tune’s minor key and gentle phrases.  I am grateful for the spaces in the lyrics for fear, anger, sadness, and vulnerability.

Today, that is enough.

May each of you find gentleness and space for all your emotions. Take care of yourself, beloveds.

By |

A meta celebration.

When in our music God is glorified,
and adoration leaves no room for pride,
it is as though the whole creation cried Alleluia!

How often, making music, we have found
a new dimension in the world of sound,
as worship moved us to a more profound Alleluia!

So has the church, in liturgy and song,
in faith and love, where centuries of wrong,
borne witness to the truth in every tongue, Alleluia!

Let every instrument be tuned for praise!
Let all rejoice who have a voice to raise!
And may God give us faith to sing always Alleluia!

I don’t know what I expected when I turned the page to this hymn – something with a hint of a justice and compassion hook, maybe…. something to reflect the importance of this day (American presidential election day). What we have is a song about singing.

Totally meta.

And completely appropriate.

There are few things that cut so perfectly through all of the ideologies and theologies as music. There are few things that draw us together into intentional harmony as music. There are few things that vibrate our every essence so completely as music. There are few things that give so pure a voice to our spirit as music.

Music invokes deep memory. Music fills our empty spaces. Music speaks when words cannot. And music is universal – everywhere there is humanity there is music, and while musical styles sometimes feel foreign to us, there are some basic truths about music that cut across culture. I love the example Bobby McFerrin gives in a panel at the World Science Festival in 2009:

It’s amazing how much music brings us together.

And so, on this day which is all about choices, divisions, winners and losers – it’s a joy to be reminded of something that hooks our very souls into that something greater.

Music.

By |

In case you forgot our Christian roots…

Unto thy temple, Lord, we come
with thankful hearts to worship thee;
and pray that this may be our home
until we touch eternity:

The common home of rich and poor,
of bond and free, and great and small;
large as thy love forever more,
and warm and bright and good to all.

May thy whole truth be spoken here;
thy gospel light forever shine;
thy perfect love cast out all fear,
and human life become divine.

This is a very Christian hymn.

It is also a very Unitarian Universalist hymn.

Christian, because it imagines a transcendent, omnipresent, loving Divine… because it proclaims the message of Jesus… because it reflects on the kingdom of heaven….and yeah, because it references the gospel.

Unitarian Universalist because it imagines God as Love….because it affirms our first principle… because it reminds of us our call to help heal the world.

I point out the obvious in my processing this morning, because sometimes its helpful – especially in ecumenical and interfaith settings – to point out that we hold dear the core of Jesus’s ministry and that it informs who we are today. I like to say we take the assertions to their inevitable conclusions. For me, this hymn makes that connection clear. Yeah, at first I went “huh” at the language, especially seeing a “Lord” where that word has been so carefully excised elsewhere. But when you take a longer view, it may not be the specific theology of a plurality of UUs, it certainly reflects our theological foundations. And in these days of the run up to the election, its kind of nice to start the day with a hymn that reminds me of that greater truth – perfect love casts out fear. Yes.

Plus, the tune (Duke Street) totally works with this one.