The Season of Pentecost

The church year – also called the liturgical year – is a way of marking time and celebrating important days of the Christian faith. It is the same length (52 weeks) as our cultural 12-month calendar, and it can be further broken down into seasons, each of which have particular importance and meaning. Most of the seasons are relatively short: Advent (roughly 4 weeks), Christmas (12 days), Epiphany (anywhere from 4-9 weeks), Lent (40 days), and Easter (50 days). The Season of Pentecost, however, encompasses roughly half of the entire year. Technically, the season begins on the Monday after The Day of Pentecost and lasts until Advent. Depending on the date of Easter, the Season of Pentecost will encompass between 23 and 28 Sundays.

Some traditions refer to this long period as an indication of the number of weeks since Pentecost – the day the Holy Spirit emblazoned the church. (i.e. “Fourth Sunday After Pentecost” etc.) Others simply mark the Sundays as Ordinary Time. (i.e. “Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time” etc.) Either is correct, and the two work interchangeably. The term ordinary here does not mean ‘normal, commonplace, or plain.’ Rather, it is short for ordinal number, meaning something’s position in a series, such as first, second, or third. It is simply a way of counting time.

The seasons in the first half of the year – Advent through Easter – mark important aspects of Christ’s life, such as the preparation of his coming (Advent), his birth (Christmas), his life and ministry (Epiphany), the preparation of Christ’s death (Lent), and his resurrection and eternal life (Easter). On the other hand, the Season of Pentecost marks important aspects of Christ’s teaching(s). The Gospel lessons appointed for these Sundays in the Season of Pentecost are full of the parables of Jesus.

So, here we are at the beginning (4^th Sunday of 25 this year) of this long season; indeed, it is the lengthiest season of the entire liturgical year, and the only season without any major festivals that are frequent in the earlier half of the year. The liturgical color of this season is green, symbolizing growth. This season invites us to pause, reflect, and think about how we can grow in our faith following the teachings of Christ. What work do have in front of us to make our lives more fully resemble the teachings of Christ?

"Bring Peace to Earth Again"

Our service opens this week with a musical prayer meant for all to participate. The piece, “Bring Peace to Earth Again,” functions as a Kyrie-like plea for peace on earth. The prayer features a recurring refrain, which all are invited to join in singing. Our cantor for this week, Zack Morris, will extend his arms as an invitation for you to join.

Here’s the refrain:

 

Hymnwriter Herman Stuempfle wrote the text of this hymn in response to the Oklahoma City bombings in 1995, ethnic cleansing in the Balkans as a result of the Bosnian War of 1992-95, and “as the result of considering the general state of the world.” The text was one of many published in his 1997 collection called Redeeming the Time: A Cycle of Song for the Christian Year. Take a look:

Where armies scourge the countryside,
and people flee in fear,
where sirens scream through flaming nights,
and death is ever near:
O God of mercy, hear our prayer.
Bring peace to earth again!

Where anger festers in the heart,
and strikes with cruel hand;
where violence stalks the troubled streets,
and terror haunts the land:
O God of mercy, hear our prayer.
Bring peace to earth again!

Where homes are torn by bitter strife,
and love dissolves in blame;
where walls you meant for sheltering care
hide deeds of hurt and shame:
O God of mercy, hear our prayer.
Bring peace to earth again!

O God, whose heart compassionate 
bears every human pain,
redeem this violent, wounding world
till gentleness shall reign.
O God of mercy, hear our prayer.
Bring peace to earth again!

For me, part of the power in Stuempfle’s words come from the formulaic nature of his text. In each of the first three verses, he employs two where/and couplets followed by the Kyrie-like refrain. (The Kyrie is the part of the service where we ask God for mercy.)

where x and y, where x and y --> Kyrie (Lord, have mercy, give us peace)

The final verse deviates from this formula and takes on a more general prayer nature, acknowledges God’s omnipresence in our hurt and pain, and asks for redemption. Still, it ends by employing the words of the Kyrie. 

In this Kyrie refrain, the composer of the melody makes use of a compositional device called text painting – a technique where the music reflects the literal meaning of the lyrics. Where the words read – O God of mercy, hear our prayer. Bring peace to earth again! – the contour of the music reflects a general descent from high-D to low-D. It is like peace is being bestowed from God above to the people below.

To quote the Italian words of the tune’s name, Pace, mio Dio. (Peace, my God.)

Isaac Watts, "Marching to Zion"

Isaac Watts (1674-1748) may not exactly be a household name. But in the academic study of church music, he is often referred to as “The Father of English Hymnody.” (How would you like that as your epitaph!?) This is not because he was the first to write hymns in English, but rather because his work began to deviate from earlier English writers. Watts did not feel “constrained to strictly follow the language of scripture but freed to communicate biblical truth with greater freedom of poetic expression.”[1] With over 750 hymns to his credit, Watts’ texts were published in several collections during his lifetime:

v  Horæ lyricæ (1705); translated “Lyric Poems”

v  Hymns and Spiritual Songs (1707)

v  The Psalms of David Imitated in the Language of the New Testament, and apply’d to the Christian state and worship (1719)

His style was widely emulated during his time, and his hymn texts remain among the most prolific published in hymnals today. Indeed, Glory to God contains 14 of his hymns. [Side note: Have you stopped by the church to check out a copy of Glory to God yet? I bet some of Watts’ texts are very familiar to you!]

Our service this Sunday will open with a musical arrangement of a Watts text, now commonly referred to as “Marching to Zion.” It is found in the 1707 collection mentioned above under the title “Heavenly Joy on Earth.” Four of the most common verses (of the original 10!) are:

Come, we that love the Lord, and let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord, and thus surround the throne.

Let those refuse to sing who never knew our God;
But children of the heav’nly King may speak their joys abroad.

The hill of Zion yields a thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heav’nly fields or walk the golden streets.

Children, we must let our songs abound ‘til every tear by dry;
We’re marching thro’ Emmanuel’s ground to fairer worlds on high.

So where did the title “Marching to Zion” come from? In 1867 (160 years after Watts originally wrote the text), Brooklyn, NY clergyman Robert Lowry (1826-1899) added a refrain to Watts’ text that stuck.

We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion,
We’re marching on upward to Zion, the beautiful City of God.

Likely owing to the growing popularity of African American spirituals (with their recurring refrains between stanzas), Lowry’s refrain has “stood the test of time” as a pairing with Watts’ text. Lowry also wrote the gospel-like tune that’s almost always now published with Watts’ words (and Lowry’s refrain).

Casey Tibbles and I recorded this piece a couple weeks back, and I felt compelled to include it in this week’s service for a couple of reasons. First, it foreshadows a line in the appointed Gospel lesson from Matthew. Jesus has sent his 12 disciples out, asking them to proclaim the good news: “The kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matthew 10:7). This is the passage where he tells them to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons” (10:8).

And so, secondly, it struck me that perhaps this is what we are seeing in our society today, in cities all over the world: folks marching – literally – in seek of a more perfect Zion. In Watts’ words, “The hill of Zion yields a thousand sacred sweets before we reach the heavenly fields or walk the golden streets.” Perhaps our earthly “thousand sacred sweets” will be made even more pleasing if we can ‘cure, raise, cleanse, and cast out’ the ‘sick, dead, lepers, and demons’ of racial injustice and police brutality.

May this arrangement (and Casey’s rousing interpretation of it) help you enter into a worshipful state. And may we ever continue to march onward in seek of a more perfect Heaven on Earth.

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[1] A Survey of Christian Hymnody, William J. Reynolds and Milburn Price.

Trinity Sunday -- June 7, 2020

The Sunday after Pentecost is always designated in the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) as Trinity Sunday, a celebration of one of Christianity’s central doctrines: the three-persons of God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It begins what we call ordinary time, which is the longest period in the church calendar – from now until Advent.

Christian hymnody is plenty rich with texts acknowledging and celebrating the Trinity. Perhaps the most well-known Trinitarian text is “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!” It is most assuredly a hymn of praise to the Triune God, describing this three-part person as holy, merciful, mighty, worthy of adoration, perfect in power, love, and purity. Indeed, both the opening and closing stanzas begin and end in the same way: “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!” ... “Holy, Holy, Holy! merciful and mighty! God in three persons, blessed Trinity!” The third stanza seems especially poignant this year, amid all the strife and unrest in our society and lives:

Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide thee,
though the eye of sinfulness thy glory cannot see,
only thou art holy; there is none beside thee,
perfect in power, in love and purity.

A Trinitarian hymn that may be less familiar to us is Canadian poet Jean Janzen’s 1991 text, “Mothering God, You Gave Me Birth.” Janzen’s inspiration for the text comes from writings of 14th-century mystic, Julian of Norwich (c. 1343-c. 1416). In 1373, when Julian was gravely ill, she experienced a series of 16 visions, which she recorded in writing shortly after. These writings have long been regarded as the earliest book in English written by a woman, and they are contained in what is now known as Revelations of Divine Love. Here is Janzen’s text in full:

Mothering God, you gave me birth in the bright morning of this world.
Creator, source of every breath, you are my rain, my wind, my sun.

Mothering Christ, you took my form, offering me your food of light,
grain of life, and grape of love, your very body for my peace.

Mother Spirit, nurturing one, in arms of patience hold me close,
so that in faith I root and grow until I flower, until I know

In reflecting on Janzen’s text, I find Rev. Carl P. Daw, Jr.’s commentary helpful. Daw is an Episcopal priest and former Executive Director of The Hymn Society of the United States and Canada. He writes,

In addition to being an alternative to patriarchal images of God, this text is notable for its concrete images that contextualize the attributes of the Trinity within human experience. The First Person, addressed both as “Mothering God” and “Creator,” is sketched by references to “birth,” “bright morning,” “breath,” “rain,” “wind,” and “sun.” Similarly, the Second Person, addressed only as “Mothering Christ,” is celebrated for becoming human (“took my form”), yet is described in images joined in nontraditional pairs: “food”/“light,” “grain”/“life,” “grape”/“love,” “body”/“peace.” The Third Person, the “Mothering Spirit,” traditionally described with minimal imagery, is called “nurturing one” and given “arms of patience.”

We will experience both of these hymns in our Trinity Sunday service this year, and I hope that this reflection will deepen and enliven your worship.