I Sing a Song of the Saints of God

 

For me when I think about All Saints’ Day, I am simultaneously flooded with two things: memories of those saints in our midst who have already died and scores of musical examples that beautifully address death, eternal life, grief, and the like. I could spend days browsing YouTube and relishing in choral music appropriate for this observance. When it comes to corporate worship, however, the two hymns that have been part of our worship here for many years are “For All the Saints” and “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.”

 

While the two hymns both have British roots, they are pretty different in terms of style. “For All the Saints” comes from the high Anglican tradition and composer Ralph Vaughan Williams’ musical pen. The name of the tune, Sine Nomine (Latin for ‘without a name’), is thought to reference the many saints whose names are known only God. I’ve sung this hymn on All Saints’ Day for as long as I can remember, and I can only guess at how many memorial services I’ve played the hymn for. This All Saints’ Day is no different.

 

On the other hand, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” is newer to me. I first learned it when I was a church musician for an Episcopal church in Florida, and it will also open our service this year. It has a decidedly folk feel with a sing-song-y melodic line. Carl Daw explains some of this hymn’s origins: “As a mother with three small children, the author would frequently create hymns for them on various topics, usually at their request, such as ‘make a hymn for a picnic’ or ‘make a hymn for a foggy day.’ [This] hymn was written for All Saints’ Day in order to emphasize that many saints led seemingly ordinary lives and that there are still saints living among us today. And, most tellingly, each stanza ends with an affirmation of the singer’s intention to ‘be one too’.” Check out the three-stanza text in its entirety:

 

I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true,
who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was a shepherdess on the green:
they were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping, to be one too.

They loved their Lord so dear, so dear, and God’s love made them strong;
and they followed the right, for Jesus’ sake, the whole of their good lives long.
And one was a soldier, and one was a priest, and one was slain by a fierce wild beast:
and there’s not any reason, no, not the least, why I shouldn’t be one too.

They lived not only in ages past; there are hundreds of thousands still;
the world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus’ will.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea;
for the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.

 

Even beyond the distinctively British words and phrases (“one was a queen,” “a shepherdess on the green,” “meet them in lanes,” “or at tea,” etc.), the bit that always catches my attention the most is “one was slain by a fierce wild beast.”

 

What fierce wild beasts have slain the saints in your lives? Cancer? Dementia? Mental illness? An accident? I can certainly name special saints in my life that fall into each of those categories. My grandfather and my aunt are two of my saints that I think of each All Saints’ Day. Alcoholism and a stroke were the beasts that slayed them.

 

This year, however, we have a couple of other “beasts” that have taken many of our saints from this earthly life. The Coronavirus and the cruelty of racial violence are two elements of 2020 that will surely go down in the history books. I will certainly take a moment to remember the many thousands of people worldwide who have succumbed to these beasts this year, and I know you will too. Blessed be their memory.

Léon Boëllmann’s Suite Gothique

Organists frequently engage in concerts surrounding the secular holiday coming up at the end of this week – Halloween. I suppose there are a few reasons for this: the dynamic nature of the instrument (it can go from very loud to very soft in a split second; it can play very high and very low sounds simultaneously), the various sound combinations can make for a spooky atmosphere, etc. Halloween organ concerts are usually met with full audiences of adults and children alike. I fondly recall an entire auditorium full of students each Halloween during grad school when it felt like the entire university campus was in attendance. (One year I even played my portions of the event dressed as Ace Frehley from the ‘70s rock band KISS!) 

Among organists and organ circles, a few pieces from the repertoire have become notorious for finding a spot on Halloween concert programs. Léon Boëllmann’s Toccata from “Suite Gothique” is one such piece. The toccata is the final – and most famous – movement of the suite. Check it out:

The four-movement “Suite Gothique” also contains two lovely inner movements, both of which are offered as part of our worship service this week. The Menuet Gothique is a perpetual-motion piece modeled after the minuet dance (in triple time, with a strong downbeat at the beginning of each bar). Boëllmann’s minuet features full-bodied chords for the hands and feet as well as fast scalar passages between sections. It’s fun to play, and I hope you enjoy seeing both hands and feet at work on the YouTube video.

 

The much tamer third movement, Prière á Notre-Dame, is a musical prayer to the Virgin Mary. (Afterall, Boëllmann was a good Frenchman and Catholic, so music alluding to Catholic saints is commonplace.) In this piece, we hear the late-Romantic composer at work with rich sonorities on some of the softest stops of the organ. It is meditative and contemplative and serves as an effective complement to the more robust Menuet. Enjoy!

Children's Sabbath and "Jesus Loves Me"

This weekend, we celebrate “Children’s Sabbath” during our worship services. The Children’s Defense Fund, an American nonprofit organization focusing on research and advocacy for children, sponsors the annual observance. The ecumenical event is designed to look closely at the needs of children – local and worldwide – and pray for them. “Children’s Sabbath” began in 1991 and continues today in Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu, Buddhist, and Baha’i worshipping communities. 

In our Christian tradition, one of the first religious songs taught to toddlers is no doubt “Jesus Loves Me.” During a recent conversation among members of our Sanctuary Choir, members remarked “It’s simplicity touches me,” “Even now as an adult, I catch myself humming the melody nonchalantly as I go about my day,” and “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know this song.” Perhaps you have similar experiences and remembrances with “Jesus Loves Me.”

But did you know that the song began its life as part of a novel in 1860? Or that is has an association – albeit somewhat loose – with West Point Military Academy? The story and history behind this beloved children’s hymn is well-documented in various ways online. I think this blog post encapsulates it in a succinct way.

I’ll close with NBC’s famous public service announcement tagline, “The More You Know…”  😊

Bell Choir

It will come as no surprise that the performing arts are one sector of our cultural life that have been especially impacted by the current pandemic. For so many vocalists and instrumentalists, it is just not yet safe to produce music that requires breath (which thus emits droplets and aerosols that may contain virus particles). For musicians for which breath is not required to make a sound (such as keyboard, string, and percussion instruments), the challenge is finding a space where an audience is willing to gather. For all of us musicians, we are either ‘on pause’ or finding new and creative ways to make music through the wonders of technology. 

For us at The Presbyterian Church of Danville, our adult vocal choir is taking the pandemic as an opportunity for education, conversation, and fellowship. The bell choir, however, has worked together with the Covid-19 Taskforce to find ways to safely rehearse and prepare music for our worship services. It has been a much-needed creative outlet for many of our bell choir members!

Some of the precautions we’ve put into place you would expect: wearing masks at all times, keeping a social distance of 6-feet or more, limiting our time together to 60 minutes or less, etc. We also have broken the bell choir into two smaller groups of six ringers each, mostly as a means of limiting our contacts should anything alarming occur among our group. One group meets on Monday evenings, the other on Wednesday afternoons; both in the Fellowship Hall (another change) since it has a larger, more cavernous space than the 2^nd floor music room. With all of this in place, we feel we are being as safe and responsible as possible, and we are enjoying the opportunity to rekindle old friendships and music-making responsibilities.

Obviously, with the bell choir reduced from 14 to 6 members, the sound and range of octaves will be very different. Music written for bell sextets feature just a portion of the entire set of handbells. The music you’ll hear in the service today will feature roughly the top half of the bells we own. (Perhaps you’ll miss hearing some of the low, rich sounds from the bass bells.) The group in the video this morning is the Wednesday afternoon group; the Monday folks will be coming up on All Saints’ Sunday in just a few short weeks. Enjoy!

World Communion Sunday

Each year on the first Sunday of October, we celebrate World Communion Sunday. This year is no different, and here we are on October 4, 2020. The world is a different place than it was a year ago, but we can still continue to hold fast to some traditions like this one that help us pause and celebrate our unity together.

For me, World Communion Sunday has been something that has been acknowledged and celebrated for as long back as I can remember into my childhood. This week I set out to find some history about it. Here are my results:

• It began as a Presbyterian idea. Pastor Dr. Hugh Thompson Kerr first celebrated World Communion Sunday at Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh in 1933.

• Three years later (1936), the Presbyterian Church (US) adopted it as a denomination-wide practice. Four years after that (1940), the National Council of Churches promoted the practice to a number of churches around the world. It has since become widespread.

• Dr. Kerr’s son, Donald, also a Presbyterian pastor, notes the significance of the Second World War: “The concept spread very slowly at the start. People did not give it a whole lot of thought. It was during the Second World War that the spirit caught hold, because we were trying to hold the world together. World Wide Communion symbolized the effort to hold things together, in a spiritual sense. It emphasized that we are one in the Spirit and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.”

• Today, many churches across the world and across denominational lines celebrate World Communion. Some acknowledge it through their liturgy, others through their musical offerings, and even others through a guest speaker from their global mission work.

In previous years, I have so enjoyed the self-imposed challenge of ensuring that every musical aspect of our service on this day come from a different tradition around the globe. Sometimes that is a big task as our 11:00 service can have upwards to 12-15 pieces of music. During these times of virtual and outdoor worship, we are a bit more limited, but today you experience music from:

• South Africa – an opening song, “Hallelujah! We Sing Your Praises” with piano, drum, and voice.

• America – a folk-style communion hymn, “One Brad, One Body” recorded by piano, guitar, and vocalists.

• Jamaica – an organ arrangement of the upbeat and syncopated communion hymn, “Let Us Talents and Tongues Employ.” and

• France – the song “Eat This Bread” from the Taizé Community, offered by a quartet of singers and enhanced by various instrumental sounds from our organ.