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So…

I’ll be honest. I don’t know what to think here. I’ve been staring at this screen for a solid five minutes wondering what to say.

It’s not that it’s a bad piece. It is sweet – first, it’s set to a lovely Missouri Harmony tune (Devotion), which we first sang back in early January.

And it’s Wordsworth, one of my favorite English poets, lyrics excerpted from his poem “The Solitary Reaper.”

So the pieces aren’t bad. And they even go well together, despite the one verse of ABAB rhyme in a AABB song:

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
and sings a melancholy strain:
O listen! for the vale profound
is overflowing with the sound.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
for old, unhappy far-off things,
and for the battles long ago.

Or is it some more humble lay,
familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
that once has been, may be again?

I listened, motionless and still,
and, as I mounted up the hill,
the music in my heart I bore
long after it was heard no more.

I think the reason I have nothing to say, really, is that I don’t have a clue as to what theological or spiritual purpose this might have. In other words, why is it in a hymnal, and not just a songbook? Like, I get why we have some more complex or troubling songs in the hymnal – it’s songs of our living tradition. But this seems, well, like a really lovely song you might hear at a coffeehouse or folksy open mic or a shape note sing-along.

I don’t know what to say. I hope others can tease out meaning where I cannot.

—

What I can do is share one of my favorite paintings in the permanent collection of the North Carolina Museum of Art, “Christina’s World” by Andrew Wyeth. To be honest, it’s the image I have in my head every time I see this poem or this song.

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True fact: context matters.

I mean, I know you know this, but in this case it’s not just the context of where the lyrics come from or when they were written or how they were used. In this case, it’s about the accompaniment – in other words, the context in which the melody sits.

And I’m struggling with this one, because the tune seems hard and I don’t know the context.

Now you’d think it would be easy to find – a famous composer (the Hungarian Unitarian Béla Bartók), and a note from Between the Lines clearly stating that these lyrics (by American Unitarian Universalist minister George Beach) were written to be sung with the Chorale tune from Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra. Sadly, I don’t know the piece at all, and thus, I’m struggling to find the melody Beach is referring to here.

And thus, I don’t have the musical context for this tune…and that takes away from the lyrical context.

Perfect Singer, songs of earth rise on every field and hearth;
let our voices sound again ancient songs of joy and pain.

All your creatures strive for life, suffer hurt in angry strife,
seek compassion, find release in the covenant of peace.

Sing a sacred melody for the justice that shall be;
let our harmonies resolve dissonance in steadfast love.

Steadfast Seeker, find our song woven into lives made strong;
let the patterns of surprise kindle hope with each sunrise.

What I will say is that given some of the apparent dissonance in the tune, these lyrics are perfectly suited, as the perfect singer isn’t all about the good times. No, it’s about finding joy out of sorrow, comfort out of pain, and letting our compassion lead in places of suffering.

Truly, it’s an amazing lyric. I wish I knew how the song goes.

EDIT: The fantastic Michael Tino sussed it out for me! He found this page that breaks down the Concerto and discovered the chorale is a brass trio in the middle of the second movement. You can hear it here – our melody starts at 2:52:

Now it’s still a bit dissonant, but it’s not as hard to sing as I feared. In fact it’s rather beautiful. I therefore mark this “Complex but Worth it.”

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Welcome to Hymn By Hymn After Dark!

Sorry, there’s no sexy R&B played by Venus Flytrap, or suggestive storylines, or anything anywhere near close to that. I’m in a tshirt and leggings, hair a mess, a Stuff You Should Know podcast on my phone. But it’s dark! And it has been a long day, since the early rising sing as I dried my hair, through last minute preparations for a closing ceremony, packing, cleaning, saying tearful goodbyes, processing, packing, cleaning, and finally battling summertime traffic on the Garden State Parkway  and the New York State Thruway to finally arrive home. But it’s been good.

As is this hymn. Now I’m not a big fan of the tune, Brother James’ Air, which is a little complicated to sing. But the lyrics, by William Oliver and adapted by Waldemar Hille, are a good and delightful celebration of humanity. I like that it is framed as gifts (rather than commodities) because whether or not you believe there is something beyond us, I hope we can all agree that life is a gift of something, even if it’s a gift of crazy random happenstance.

Life is the greatest gift of all the riches on this earth;
life and its creatures, great and small, of high and lowly birth:
so treasure it and measure it with deeds of shining worth.

Mind is the brightest gift of all, its thought no barrier mars;
it seeks creation’s hidden plan, its quest surmounts all bars;
it reins the wind, it chains the storm, it weighs the outmost stars.

We are of life, its shining gift, the measure of all things;
up from the dust our temples lift, our vision soars on wings;
for seed and root, for flower and fruit, our grateful spirit sings.

My one quibble would be the whole “high and lowly birth” thing; I am pretty sure that’s an older way of indicating the things that fly versus and the things that burrow in the ground, but it’s a bit problematic in today’s frames. On the whole though, the lyrics are expansive and quite lovely.

 

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Now this is an appreciation of beauty I can get behind.

And no, I’m not just saying this because I know lyricist Mark Belletini is reading… honest. I simply love the connection he makes between the beauty of the earth and the beauty of our own creativity, that we are all a part of creation and we are all creators.

The arching sky of morning glows like frescoes high in vaulted rows.
The ragged hills of greening spring like chorus masters bid us sing.

The colors of our contoured land no artist born could hue as grand,
but contours of the human heart sole groundings are for every art!

Whenever sounds the sacred sigh beneath this gable of the sky,
the forms of art and spirit blend, by craft and morn our hearts transcend.

Set to the Tallis Canon, it’s an easy piece to sing; and I find it sounds more like bells than voices when sung with care. It’s harder to sing a round with multiple verses, but I imagine it must sound lush and gorgeous done that way.

I’ve not much more to say – we’re on the penultimate day of Goldmine Youth Leadership School, and my energy is loooowww. My spirits are high (we have amazing youth) but I am more like a three-toed tree sloth than a human today, moving veeeeery slooooowly from moment to moment. I even sang this more slowly than usual, but perhaps that let me linger over the poetry.

Anyway. I like this a lot and wish I remembered to use it more.

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Let’s not kid ourselves: Willa Cather could write.

This lyric, from a longer poem “I Sought the World in Winter” is a graceful meditation on the beauty of nature:

I sought the wood in summer when every twig was green;
the rudest boughs were tender, and buds were pink between.
Light-fingered aspens trembled in fitful sun and shade,
and daffodils were golden in every starry glade.

“How frail a thing is Beauty,” I said, “when every breath
she gives the vagrant summer but swifter woos her death.
For this the star dust troubles, for this have ages rolled:
to deck the wood for bridal and slay her with the cold.”

I sought the wood in winter when every leaf was dead;
behind the wind-whipped branches the winter sun was red.
The birches, white and slender, in breathless marble stood,
the brook, a white immortal, slept silent in the wood.

“How sure a thing is Beauty,” I cried. “No bolt can slay, nor wave
nor shock despoil her, nor ravishers dismay.
The granite hills are slighter, the sea more like to fail,
behind the rose the planet, the Law behind the veil.”

Gorgeous.

And yet, this one leaves me flat. And I think it’s the tune; it just doesn’t inspire or engage me at all. And maybe it’s my mood – I am halfway through this leadership school with 13 of the most incredible, engaged, passionate youth I’ve met, and they are so full of life, laughter, and inspiration – and their songs reflect their qualities. In comparison, this hymn is old, dull, and resigned.

Oh well. I’m sure this is a favorite of many. While it’s not on my Nope list, it’s not one I’m likely to reach for any time soon.

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When I say “Beethoven” I bet most of you think “da da da DUM” and the strikingly innovative opening to the Fifth Symphony. But for me, it’s this – Ode to Joy.

I first waxed poetic about it on November 1st, noting the joy of the music and the lyrics by Henry Van Dyke. And while Van Dyke’s lyrics are more well know. it is these lyrics, by German dramatist, poet, and historian Friedrich Schiller, that Beethoven included in the Ninth Symphony.

Joy, thou goddess, fair immortal, offspring of Elysium,
mad with rapture, to the portal of thy holy fane we come!
Fashion’s laws, indeed, may sever, but thy magic joins again;
humankind is one forever ‘neath thy mild and gentle reign.

Joy, in nature’s wide dominion, mightiest cause of all is found;
and ‘tis joy that moves the pinion, when the wheel of time goes round;
from the bud she lures the flower, suns from out their orbs of light;
distant spheres obey her power, far beyond all mortal sight.

Freude, schóner Götterfunken, Tochter aus Elysium,
wir betreten feuertrunken, himmlische, dein Heiligtum.
Deine Zauber binden wieder, was die Mode streng geteilt,
alle Menschen werden Brúder, wo dein sanfter Flúgel weilt.

Freude heiefst die starke Feder in der ewigen Natur.
Freude, Freude treibt die Ráder in der grossen Weltenuhr.
Blumen lockt sie ausden Keimen, Sonnen aus dem Firmament,
Spháren rollt sie in den Raumen, die des Sehers Rohr nicht kennt.

I love that we have to verses of the German, along with two English verses. The first line, “Freude, schóner Götterfunken” translates directly as “Joy, beautiful spark of God, daughter of Elysium” – the English translation we use appears to be uncredited (at least according to my Google search).

I could talk more about the theology of this versus Joyful, Joyful – and I’m sure it’s worthy of analysis. But today, in the midst of the Goldmine Youth Leadership School (with incredible youth and their incredible minds and enthusiasm), I don’t have the energy for deep thought. I do also wonder about attributing gender to an abstract – but I am not sure how I feel about it. Maybe someday.

Meanwhile, JOY! In a big, famous, broad, triumphant German way.

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Welcome to another edition of “Hymns Kimberley Would Use Too Often If Let Loose.”

I love this one. I love its inspiration, I love the joy, I love the celebration. And, not surprisingly, I love the tune too – another Ralph Vaughan Williams setting (Danby). It is lush and sweet.

Let all the beauty we have known illuminate our hearts and minds.
Rejoice in wonders daily shown, in faith and joy, and love that binds.

We celebrate with singing hearts the loveliness of sky and earth,
the inspiration of the arts, the miracle of ev’ry birth.

Life’s music and its poetry surround and bless us through our days.
For these we sing in harmony, together giving thanks and praise.

And it is most assuredly a part of my theology, and my ministry.

—

Today’s image is the gorgeous watercolor I bought for my 49th birthday from the talented Jordan Lynn Gribble. It hangs on my bedroom wall and is often the first thing I see in the morning.

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Another list song – must be Brian Wren.

And so it is. Now this is not to say his list is bad, necessarily, but It can get tiring pretty quickly.

And when it comes to Wren, there is always something – even in songs I like, like this one – that make me go “hmm” …

Love makes a bridge from heart to heart, and hand to hand.
Love finds a way when laws are blind, and freedom banned.

Love breaks the walls of language, gender, class, and age.
Love gives us wings to slip the bars of every cage.

Love lifts the hopes that force and fear have beaten down.
Love breaks the chains and gives us strength to stand our ground.

Love rings the bells of wanted birth and wedding day.
Love guides the hands that promise more than words can say.

Love makes a bridge that winds may shake, yet not destroy.
Love carries faith through life and death, to endless joy.

Did you spot it? In this case it’s the fourth verse, “love rings the bells of wanted birth.” That line falls sharply on my ear, breaking open my heart for all the births that were not wanted – do they not deserve the bells of love too? And because of that hard line, I find myself checking out of the final verse, which may be the best one of all.

Oh, Brian. This one is so, so close. Sigh.

Anyway, this is set to a tune by Gerald Wheeler that is surprisingly more complex than you’d think. It’s worth learning, as a five-verse hymn makes “sing 1, 2, and 5” an easy choice. but I recommend a strong song leader to help with some of the more intricate intervals.

All in all, not a bad one. I’ve used it before – but with care.

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One of the downsides of so many hymn tunes is that groups of them begin to sound alike. For instance, there’s a whole set of them in the O Waly Waly/Gift of Love milieu that I constantly confuse for one another.

And now there is another set of them – including this English tune, called Kingsfold, set by Ralph Vaughan Williams. I started singing it and was sure I knew what it was and where it was going, until I realized there were differences in what I thought I knew. Google told me, surprisingly, that Kingsford is NOT the tune to Canticle of the Turning – that one’s called Star of the County Down, an Irish tune set by Rory Cooney.

So are they originally different? Or are they both based on a tune that ran around the British Isles, and we have two different interpretations? They’re both great, but both different.

What I do know is that whichever of the two you wind up singing to yourself, the lyrics (by Alicia Carpenter) are fitting – the tune is joyful yet melancholy, as are these words:

Where my free spirit onward leads, well, there shall be my way;
by my own light illumined I’ve journeyed night and day;
my age, a time-worn cloak I wear as once I wore my youth;
I celebrate life’s mystery; I celebrate death’s truth.

My family is not confined to mother, mate, and child;
but it includes all creatures be they tame or be they wild;
my family upon this earth includes all living things
on land, or in the ocean deep, or borne aloft on wings.

The ever spinning universe, well, there shall be my home;
I sing and spin within it as through this life I roam;
eternity is hard to ken and harder still is this:
a human life when truly seen is briefer than a kiss.

I hadn’t ever really sung this one before, to be fair, but I like it. I would use this for a memorial service, I think, in its loving picture of a life well lived. And I’d use it for services on community.

I wish I had more insights today – I’m about to get in a car and drive to Murray Grove and the Goldmine Youth Leadership School, where I will be working  with youth on worship (surprise, surprise). Thus – programming note – the week’s posts may not come out in the mornings, but that’s my hope.

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Just before I opened the hymnal, I saw a Facebook post from a dear friend who asked ‘But what if this world runs out of lovers? What then?”

Then for me was opening the hymnal to this wonderful hymn, reminding us to draw the circle ever wider, because – as Susan Frederick Gray has reminded us, “no one is outside the circle of love.”

And to me, that’s our call. Right now, as we find ourselves shockingly having debates about Nazis and white supremacists, we also must find ourselves speaking out from this circle of enabling love, growing it ever wider, actively loving the hell – and the hate – out of this world.

This hymn is incredibly aspirational. Seemingly unattainable, in fact. Can there ever be this much love? And yet, the vision described by Fred Kahn (who also wrote lyrics for Almond Trees Renewed in Bloom is precisely what we need today.

Break not the circle of enabling love
where people grow, forgiven and forgiving;
break not that circle, make it wider still,
till it includes, embraces all the living.

Come, wonder at this love that comes to life,
where words of freedom are with humor spoken,
and people keep no score of wrong and guilt,
but will that human bonds remain unbroken.

Join then the movement of the love that frees,
till people of whatever race or nation
will truly be themselves, stand on their feet,
see eye to eye with laughter and elation.

A side note about the tune, written by the delightful Tom Benjamin (whose praises I have sung before): do you ever wonder why a tune has a particular – and sometimes unusual name? I suppose there are any number of reasons, often tied to the original lyrics, although some tunes get a name to honor a person or a place. Such is the case with this one, called Yaddo. I learned from Tom that he once spent a summer at an artist’s retreat at Yaddo, this incredible place with a gorgeous mansion and lovely gardens, and it was there – not 3 miles from my home congregation – where he wrote this tune. It is one that holds a special place in my heart because of the local connection.

Anyway. I love this hymn. I think it is exactly what we need to remember today as we show up on the side of good, the side of inclusion, the side of love.

–

Photo is part of this article from Lake George Magazine on Yaddo – a very interesting read!