Worship and Music Blog

The First Sunday of Lent

§ February 21st, 2012 § Filed under Uncategorized Comments Off

“Remember me according to your love…” Psalm 25:4

How do you remember?

How do you remember your past?

Your childhood?

Your relationships?

Your successes and failures?

In this week’s lectionary readings, the psalmist prays that God “remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions; remember me according to your love.” I know that the way I remember the past affects the way I will act in the present. I find in each story this week examples of how we can remember according to God’s love.

In the story of Noah, the early Jews made sense of a huge natural disaster, the flood. They remember this event as an act of God that ended with a covenant, the covenant to never destroy the earth again. God is seen as benevolent, compassionate, and forgiving. I can imagine that after a major flood, it would have been much easier to see God as vengeful and hateful.

In Peter’s Epistle, we find the early church making sense of the death of Jesus. Again, I can imagine it would have been easy for them to understand Jesus’ death in negative ways; but, they chose instead to understand that, “Christ suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God.”

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is baptized and then, “the spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.” I understand from this that temptation isn’t something we can avoid, but very much an important part of our life in Christ. Our baptism leads us into temptation, in order that we can be purified and integrated with Christ. I can remember my trials and temptations as events that I wish had happened differently; or, I can understand them as key points in my life that brought me closer to God.

“All the paths of the Lord are love and faithfulness to those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.” Psalm 25:9

The Third Sunday after Epiphany

§ January 17th, 2012 § Filed under Uncategorized Comments Off

“Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Saviour Jesus Christ” From the collect of the day

You can find the lectionary readings for this Sunday here http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Epiphany/BEpi3_RCL.html

At the end of our lectionary group today, we were asked to come up with a thread that tied all of the readings together. As I thought about this question, what stuck out to me was a verse from the Psalm; “God has spoken once, twice have I heard it; that power belongs to God.” The psalmist doesn’t just say that God is powerful. He says that power belongs to him; it is his possession, his to decide what to do with. A major theme of the gospels is about the reversal of power; the poor will become rich, the mournful will be glad, the weak will become strong, the sick will become healed. Though we read about it and say we believe it, do we really see this reversal of power in the world today? Today’s readings give a context for understanding power, it’s reversal, and how it functions in our spiritual and daily lives.

Our reading from the Hebrew Scriptures is the story of Jonah, the climax of the story in a sense. Jonah finally does what he is told and, surprise, Nineveh repents and God decides not to destroy them. Think of the power of Jonah’s simple act – just by speaking the truth, a whole city is immediately changed. What would it take to change the city of Mercer Island, or Seattle, or this country? We often put our faith in politicians, in money, in those who write about change, or those who preach about change. But could it be that the true power to change is in the simple act of speaking the truth that God has placed in our hearts?

“For the present form of this world is passing away.” The Epistle is a reminder of the folly of attachment, of trying to hold on to what has passed away. We have an experience and we want it to continue, we want to hold on to it. We find that old forms no longer have the power they once did. If we want to experience God’s power, we have to let go of the past, because it is by trying to hold onto the past that we keeps us from experiencing the power of God in the present. “Let even those who have wives be as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning…” Paul is asking us to let go of even those things which seem to be permanent.

In the Gospel, we have the familiar story of the calling of the disciples. “‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’ And immediately they left their nets and followed him.” How quickly this change of form happened! One minute fisherman; the next followers of an itinerant spiritual leader. With no time for reflection they left what was familiar and entered into what was unfamiliar. This is the essence of the spiritual journey. Not that we leave things for the sake of leaving things, or give things away for the sake of giving things away; rather, we continuously move with the Spirit, recognizing our utter dependence on God and our complete lack of foreknowledge about what the future will hold.

I hope that we all here at Emmanuel will come to understand deeply in our hearts that we have no power unless it comes from God. All of our best ideas about change in the world are useless unless the power comes from God. So, I hope that the question we all continually will ask, and talk about, and spend our energy trying to answer, is how can we know God? How can we stay in harmony with his will? How can let go of the limitations of ego and expand into the love and power that is present at all times for us?

This blog was written by Jack Barben III, Associate for Music and Liturgy at Emmanuel. Each Wednesday at 2:00 a group of Emmanuelites meet to go through the process of Lectio Divina with the lectionary readings. It is from these gatherings that these blogs come from.

The Second Sunday after Epiphany

§ January 11th, 2012 § Filed under Uncategorized Comments Off

“For you created my inmost parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Psalm 139:12

The lectionary readings can be found here http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Epiphany/BEpi2_RCL.html

In the season of Epiphany, we celebrate the revelation of God in a human being. In the Western church, we celebrate the coming of the Magi, recognizing divinity in the baby Jesus. In the Eastern church, they celebrate Jesus’ baptism, where the heavens are torn apart, the Spirit descends, and a voice from heaven speaks, “you are my son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Epiphany is about revelation, the coming of the light, the revealing of the Son of God.

All well and good, I am thinking as I write that, but I find myself still left wondering, what does that really mean? And even more specifically, I wonder what might it mean for me to experience the epiphany in myself? I want to share with you some insights I had in response to those question as I read each of the readings for this Second Sunday of Epiphany.

In Samuel, the word of the Lord comes to a little boy. This word is not a word of peace, but a word of punishment, of retribution. This scared me and I wondered, how often am I like Eli, knowing and wanting to do right, but out of fear of the consequences choosing to do the wrong? How often am I like Samuel, hearing the word of God and mistaking it for the voice of someone else? I understand from this passage that the light will always return; Epiphany is not an optional event. And the coming of the light isn’t always what I think it will be or want it to be. In this story, I learn that the word of God is always active in me and I must choose to heed it, to follow its course regardless of the outcome.

In the Psalm, we find the Psalmist acknowledging that God knows us. “You have searched me and known me; you know my sitting down; you discern my thoughts from afar; you trace my journeys; there is not a word on my lips, but you know it altogether.” And not only does God know us, but he created every part of us. “You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will thank you because I am marvelously made.” What an Epiphany! We are not happenstance, nor are we a mistake. We are the marvelous creation of God, our inmost parts, our deepest secrets, our darkest fears – all knit together by him. I learn from this Psalm that the only path to joy, to life, and to God, is to bring my whole self into the light.

“Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food and God will destroy them both.” From a celebration of the wonder of our existence we move in the Epistle to the stark reality of its impermanence. I observe my deepest grief coming from my greatest joys, when I am unwilling to accept that what is at one moment will not be forever. I observe my biggest mistakes happening when I thought I knew what was right and am startled to find out how little I actually know. In this Epistle, I hear Paul exhorting us to remember that nothing is permanent, that the life and joy of Christ is constantly changing, cannot be held on to. Will I look behind in the dark, remembering what was, trying to maintain and keep alive something that is gone? Or will I keep my eyes on the light ahead, the light within, remembering that God has created my inmost parts?

I see in Jesus in this Gospel reading the perfect example of living in the present, of living without ties to the past that keep us rooted in blind patterns. I hear Nathanael insult Jesus, insult his home, his people. Jesus response is astonishing, because he doesn’t have any ego to be defensive, to insult back. Instead, he speaks to a positive attribute of Nathanael, one that is so important to him, that his misperception and blindness is immediately removed. “Here is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” Jesus saw past Nathanael’s bigotry and spoke instead to the part of Nathanael created by God, the marvelous and wondrous part. I can feel Jesus speaking to me, seeing past all the parts of myself that I despise, that I wish were different. And in hearing him see all of that and speak to my beauty, I am, like Nathanael, changed. The Epiphany shatters our perceptions, it removes our grip on the past; in it all that we are is exposed and laid bare. And maybe much to our surprise, we find that we are marvelously made, that we are true children of God in whom there is no deceit. Will we hold on to this truth as we go out into the world?

Music selections

For the opening hymn, we will sing All Things Bright and Beautiful. This song expresses a similar sentiment to the Psalmist, praising God for all things made, all bright and beautiful, all wise and wonderful. For the offertory, the choir will sing There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy. This can be found in our hymnal set to two different tunes. The one we are singing was written by Dent Davidson, who was a long time musician in our diocese. The song reminds us that there is always mercy for us. It reminds us that our imperfections are not so important, that all is made perfect in Christ. Our post-communion hymn is Take my Life and Let it Be. I remember reading sometime ago a guru from India who said that this text described exactly the spiritual path. This surrender of oneself, I believe, is not a diminishing of self, but makes us greater by allowing our being to expand into its greatest possible fullness. And for our closing hymn we will sing I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light, a wonderful expression of our intentions during the Epiphany season.

Christmas Eve Blog

§ December 21st, 2011 § Filed under Uncategorized § No Comments

Take a minute to imagine a large room in a castle or cavern, something huge. Imagine all the objects that might be in that room, furniture, windows, books, etc. Now, imagine you are in that room, but it is completely dark. The only light is one small candle in the very center of the room. What do you see? How do you feel? What are you thinking?

This candle, this light is the light that comes to us through Jesus Christ on Christmas Eve. The room is the world, all of its objects, actions, dramas, successes, and failures. On Christmas Eve, we are reminded that the only true light is Jesus Christ. As John says in his gospel, “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.”

“See, your salvation comes;…They shall be called, ‘the Holy People, the Redeemed of the Lord;’ And you shall be called ‘sought out, a city not forsaken.’” (Isaiah 62) In the world, in the dark, we often forget that the candle burns quietly in the center. We feel forsaken, unloved, full of despair. Isaiah reminds us that though we forget about God, God does not forget about us. The candle is always there, sharing its light. We are sought out, we are not forsaken.

“When the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared…” (Titus 3) An image of the light – Goodness and loving kindness. When we are lost, caught up in the cacophony of the world, we need only remember the goodness that is present in each moment. As a mother loves her child no matter what, so is there present in each moment goodness and love. Paul reminds us that this goodness and loving kindness is not a matter of works of righteousness, or any action we can do, but is according to God’s mercy.

Christ’s birth took place with the animals, in a small town, acknowledged not by kings, but by shepherds. As we go about our busy lives, full of all of the things of life, we must not forget the light at the center which is our life. When we are lost, confused, or hurting, we can always look toward the center, toward the light. God has filled this world with goodness and loving kindness. Let us never forget this goodness, let us be embraced by it, let us proclaim it to all the world. “Jesus Christ is born.”

Written by Jack Barben III, Associate for Liturgy and Arts

The Third Sunday of Advent

§ December 8th, 2011 § Filed under Uncategorized § No Comments

“Among you stands one whom you do not know.” Advent is a time of descent, of moving into the darkness. We do not know what we will find there. We often fear the unknown, we fear change, we fear darkness. However, the readings this week teach us that the unknown is the source of our salvation.

Isaiah tells us that “he has sent me to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim, to provide, to comfort.” Isaiah isn’t doing any of these things, he’s just telling us. The time for the old has passed and the new has come. Are you mourning, be comforted! Are you brokenhearted, bind up your wound! Are you a prisoner, let go of your shackles! This is about changing our perception, about choosing to see things in a way different than we did before.

Think about Elizabeth giving birth to John the Baptist. She was past the time when she could give birth, at least that’s what she thought. But God revealed to her that things are not what they seem and she gave birth to a son. This is a metaphor for our own lives. It teaches us to search and root out those beliefs that our untrue, that keep us from seeing the light.

In order to do this, though, we have to descend into the darkness, into the unknown. I study the Alexander Technique and one of the things I’ve learned is how to unlearn, how to do without knowing. It’s incredibly fascinating and it has shown me very clearly that it is what I “know” that keeps me from moving freely. And even more interesting, it is in being in a state of not knowing that I move with the most freedom and ease. Advent for me is a call to move into this state of unknowing, to unlearn all of that we have been taught, so that we can allow the light to come be born in our hearts. So that we can be “clothed with garments of salvation and covered with the robe of righteousness.”

Second Sunday of Advent

§ December 1st, 2011 § Filed under Uncategorized § No Comments

As I read and re-read each of these lessons, I found myself considering the word “promise.” In Isaiah, comfort and renewal is promised. The bad times are over and the promise of God to bless His people will once again come to the people. In the Epistle, Peter tell us that, “for the Lord, a thousand years is like a day.” Sometimes it seems like the promises of God will never come, yet we are told to be patient because God’s time is not our time. The gospel of Mark is also grappling with the timing of God’s promise, pointing to John as the fulfillment of the promises in Isaiah written hundreds of years before.

In the gospel reading, the fulfillment of the promises are symbolized by baptism, first by John and then by Jesus. Baptism is one of our most sacred symbols, our entrance into the communion of saints and a mark of promise that we are God’s children. When we are baptized, we are giving ourselves over to God’s promises. Just like when we enter a river and the water rushes over us, so when we are baptized are we entering the stream of God’s promises. Promises that go back thousands of years; promises made to Adam, to Noah, to Abraham, the prophets, the apostles, and to us.

Outside, the leaves have fallen and the bounty of summer has turned into the sparseness of winter. As the plants and trees turn their energies inward to prepare for the coming spring, so do we turn our thoughts to the promises of old. As each day the sun shares less and less of its warmth with us, we need to remember and hold in ourselves the promises that will keep us full of life and warmth. If we didn’t know any better, we might fear that the darkness will continue to grow and the light will never return. It is the promises that give us hope, that calm our fears, that keep us in light and love throughout this dark season of Advent.

I’d like to share with you Hymn #69, our opening hymn for this Sunday, which speaks of this mystery:

What is the crying at Jordan?

Who hears, O God, the prophecy?

Dark is the season, dark our hearts

and shut to mystery.

Who then shall stir in this darkness,

prepare for joy in the winter night?

Mortal in darkness we lie down,

blind-hearted, seeing no light.

Lord, give us grace to awake us,

to see the branch that begins to bloom;

in great humility is hid

all heaven in a little room.

Now comes the day of salvation,

in joy and terror the Word is born!

God gives himself into our lives;

O let salvation dawn!

written by Jack Barben III, Associate for Music and Liturgy

Christ the King Sunday

§ November 16th, 2011 § Filed under Uncategorized § No Comments

“Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son.” These words from the collect of the day are what, for me, tie together this Sunday’s readings. In each lesson, I hear the entire Christian story in short: our separation from God by sin and our eventual redemption through Jesus Christ. This is the last Sunday of the church year and the Sunday after Thanksgiving marks the beginning of a new year, the first Sunday of Advent. It makes a lot of sense to me to remember the big picture on this last Sunday of the year, our story from beginning to end.

In the Ezekiel reading, God himself seeks out his sheep. “I will seek the lost, bring back the strayed, bind up the injured, and strengthen the weak.” When we walked out of Eden, we began to wander, lost and helpless. In this reading, God promises to bring us back to Him, to end our separation, our pain and misery. In the Gospel, Jesus takes on the theme of sheep from Ezekiel and points out to us our responsibility – to feed the hungry, tend the sick, give water to the thirsty. In this way, we the church, the body of Christ, “the fullness of him who fills all in all” fulfills the work of God, restoring all things through Jesus.

For the opening hymn, I chose hymn #370, I Bind unto myself today. This hymn is a powerful prayer to bind ourselves to the work of Christ, to see Christ in all, “in the mouth of friend and stranger.” The post-communion hymn is a contemporary hymn called “Open the eyes of our heart.” It echoes the prayer of Paul in the Ephesians reading, “so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you.” The closing hymn is from Lift Every Voice and Sing, entitled, “I’ve decided to make Jesus my choice.” The opening verse I hear as a paraphrase of the gospel, “Some folk would rather have houses or land, some folk choose silver and gold. These things they treasure and forget about their soul. I’ve decided to make Jesus my choice.”

written by Jack Barben III, Associate for music and liturgy