Singing our glorious confidence.

This last week was a great week. I attended the Level II organist workshop put on by Concordia Theological Seminary. I made new friends from around the country, was encouraged as I continue my efforts to become a better organist, enjoyed five days full of wonderful classes on service playing and theology, and attended at least two chapel services a day every day.

We sang so many hymns and Psalms together in class and chapel, but one stanza we sang in particular stands out as a highlight moment of the week. This is the sixth and final stanza of the hymn "Lord Jesus Christ, with Us Abide" by Philipp Melanchthon [Lutheran Service Book 585]:

Stay with us, Lord, and keep us true;
Preserve our faith our whole life through--
Your Word alone our heart's defense,
The Church's glorious confidence.

I may write in more detail about topics from this week in the future, but this stanza sums up nicely the focus of the workshop: The Word of God. We certainly discussed music since it was an organist workshop, but the focus was on the ministerial function of music as servant to the Word of God. All of the music we looked at and sang is in service of teaching the content of the Word of God, writing it on our hearts and minds, and putting it ever on our lips. For the Word of God gives and preserves faith our whole lives through, defends our hearts, and truly is our glorious confidence unto life everlasting. And it is the song of the Church that she sings with one voice unified in proclamation.

Learning what to ignore

I learned today that one of my pastors has started a blog. His post for today, On Ignorance and Imagination, is great and got me thinking. You should follow the link and read it. However, instead of discussing ignorance or imagination, I want to discuss the power of ignoring.

Since I'm a working pianist/organist, I have to learn new music every week. Sometimes it is just a hymn or two, and sometimes it is a sizable stack of music. I also help my piano students in the process of learning their music every single week. Today, I was teaching a student working on a Bach fugue that sometimes the best route to learning something thoroughly is to purposefully ignore parts of it at first.

How often do people put off starting something because they are intimidated by the size of the project? How often do people get in their own way with worry over messing up one of a myriad concerns they are mulling over?

I'm constantly reminding myself and my students that it is better to find ways to practice that allow you to fully process and properly execute what you are trying to do. Sometimes you have to practice one hand at a time. Sometimes you have to figure out and focus on only the framework while ignoring the other notes. Sometimes you have to not even push keys down, but simply walk your arms through the choreography of how they'll move to get your hands and fingers in the correct places at the correct times. Sometimes you simply play the piece through in your mind to become comfortable with how it flows and fits together. Sometimes you have to practice only the rhythm. The trick is to identify how to break the project up into many steps small enough that you can be successful at each step until you run out of steps.

I'm reminded of a phrase from one of my favorite literature quotes from The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky:

To achieve perfection, one must first begin by not understanding many things! And if we understand too quickly, we may not understand well.

It is better to admit that you do not understand something and break it down to learn step-by-step, than to exhaust great effort yet never understanding well. It is better to know what to ignore for a time than to never see it as its own component to be pondered individually.

I have seen it again and again that what is first thought of as next to impossible can be achieved if you know how to ignore properly--if you know how to ignore in a way that keeps you working and stepping forward. If you ignore the finish line, but keep moving forward, you will eventually be surprised to see when looking back to review your progress that you have crossed the finish line you thought was out of reach.

If you can ignore that you can't do the impossible.....you may just end up doing it.

[Last chance to go back up and follow the link to my pastor's blog post if you haven't already]

Give us ears to hear the joy

Let's play a game. I'm going to make a list, and you can try and guess what everything in the list has in common. Ready? Go!

Southern Harmony
Twila Paris (born 1958)
Sarum Plainsong (9th century)
Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)
Ambrose of Milan (340-397)
Stephen P. Starke (born 1955)
Kevin J. Hildebrand (born 1973)
Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625)
Anna Sophia von Hessen-Darmstadt (1638-83)
Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)
Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225-74)
Jaroslav J. Vajda (1919-2008)
Aurelius Prudentius Clemens (348-c. 413)
J. S. Bach (1685-1750)
Zhao Zichen (1888-1979)
Henry Purcell (1659-95)
The countries of Jamaica, Ethiopia, Kenya, China, Germany, France, USA, Poland, Brazil, Wales, England, Spain, Sweden, Finland, Russia and others.

I could go on for a long, long time, but that will serve as enough. Do you know what they all have in common? All of the above contributed either text or music for the hymnal Lutheran Service Book.

From time to time, I'll come across criticisms of traditional, liturgical church music and worship as joyless, stifling, or not appreciating creativity. This is a lie. Look at the above list again. Look at the range represented by that list. We have classical musicians alongside musicians who've been played on American Contemporary Christian radio. We have contributions from people 41 years old who are very active in continuing to write new music to people who lived over 1600 years ago. We have household names alongside obscure names. We have well over a dozen countries from five continents represented.

The music of these hymns also has as much breadth and variety. We have dances, marches, lullabies, folk songs, spirituals, classical themes, chants, and anthems. We have the usage of simple rhythms and complicated hemiola. We have simple pentatonic melodies and complicated classical melodies. We have simple three-chord harmonic progressions and complicated secondary progressions and transient modulations. All of these elements then carefully chosen and matched with the texts.

Do you want to annoy me? Tell me again that my hymnal containing the greatest source of musical joy in this musician's life is joyless, outdated, stifling, and doesn't appreciate creativity, and that I should discard it for the music representing the creativity of the culture of now. Tell me I should neglect in joining my voice to the fellowship of centuries of Christian prayers and songs and focus only on joining the voice of today.

What message does it send to cast aside and denigrate the contributions of centuries of the Church's creative efforts because it doesn't suit you? What if the mindset behind casting aside our hymnals has had the unintended consequence of teaching the upcoming generations that any part of Church that doesn't suit them can be cast aside. Even if that means casting aside God's Word and Church altogether.

Sing along with me

I received a great compliment today. I helped with music for the first time at the Saturday night service at Holy Cross last weekend. I played keyboard for all the songs, and sang lead on 2 1/2 of them. I've led many the service over the years, but I surprised a lot of people since I'd never done so on Saturday at Holy Cross before. I've received many compliments from people saying I have a great voice, but the compliment I received today was different and more appreciated. The compliment I received today, after she said she enjoyed my music on Saturday, was "it was easy for me to follow along and sing with you."

I can only remember completely losing my singing voice once in my life. It was March 17, 2013. I remember the exact day because it was the day after moving, and I was supposed to sing tenor in the Schola Cantorum for their Lenten Vespers service. Instead, I was sick, and while I could speak with great effort, I couldn't sing a note no matter how hard I tried. I still attended the service, but instead of singing with the choir, I sat in the congregation unable to even sing along with any of the liturgy or hymns. Lenten and Holy Week hymns are my favorite hymns, Kramer Chapel is a fantastic place to sing in, and I knew and loved all of the choral and congregational music, but I couldn't sing. I sat there with my hymnal open, and read the text as everyone sang for me--not sang around me--sang for me.

There weren't 1,000 people there, but like the hymns "Oh, That I had a Thousand Voices" or "Oh, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing" wish, the rest of congregation were my "Thousand Voices/Tongues" that day singing for me the words I desperately wished to proclaim and silently joined in confessing. Nonetheless, as a musician, not being able to sing was a bit like being temporarily crippled. I really wanted to sing along. That service was still a blessing I am thankful for, but I am also thankful for the blessing that I have only been completely unable to sing that one time.

If I were the best singer in the world, but sang in a way that was hard to sing along with, it might discourage you to sing and would be like stealing your voice. I am never shy in singing in church, but this is not to steal your voice and replace it with my own, rather to give my voice as support to those who, for whatever reason, have trouble singing or can't sing. I am aware that I have been gifted with more musical talent than some, but I would much rather sing with you than sing in a way that makes you stifle your own voice. That is why I found being told I was easy to sing along with such a high compliment.

As stanza 7 of Lutheran Service Book 528, "Oh, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing" says:

To God all glory, praise, and love
     Be now and ever giv'n
By saints below and saints above,
     The Church in earth and heav'n.

May we always join our individual voices into the corporate voice of the Church to sing the prayers and songs of the Church of all times and of all places.

Make your mom proud and do a good job.

I tend to listen to talk radio in the car. I know, I know...I'm a musician so you'd expect me to listen to music. Well, I need to get away from music now and then, so I listen to talk radio in the car. Something I was listening to today served as a memory trigger for a random exchange I had a few years ago. It wasn't at all a bad conversation, but I wish the circumstance prompting it never existed. Let me explain.

It occurred during the year I was volunteering as music teacher at Imagine Schools on Broadway, so I was extremely busy and ended up grabbing quick meals out on my busiest days. There were a few days a week where I would eat a late supper at the McDonald's on Stellhorn. This was also the period I was going without internet at home, so I also sometimes went at the end of the day simply to use internet since all other convenient options for public Wi-Fi were already closed. The employees got used to seeing me on a regular basis, and I got a good idea about their work habits.

During this period, most of the employees at this McDonald's were not exactly hardworking. There were times I would be there after 10pm, be the only one in the store, and have to wait a significant amount of time for the person who was supposed to be working cashier to come take my order, and then wait much longer than it should have taken for my food to be ready. It was quite ridiculous, but I practiced my patience, didn't complain, and always simply thanked them when I received my order. However, I quietly noticed at least two employees who actually did their job.

One day, I was using a coupon at Arby's to get a quick meal when a teenage girl who was one of the hardworking McDonald's employees walks in with her family.

"Cheating on McDonald's?" she joked as she recognized me.

I don't remember all of the specifics of the short conversation, but we explained to her mom that I was a regular customer during her shifts at McDonald's. I knew she was annoyed at her coworkers from watching them work, so I took this opportunity to tell the girl that I noticed and appreciated how she went about her work, that she stood out from her coworkers as a result, and thanked her for her efforts.

I remember the proud mom moment that occurred after I did this. I'm pretty sure the mom wasn't expecting someone who was essentially a stranger to compliment her daughter on her work at McDonald's while out getting a meal at Arby's. It was an interesting spontaneous experience to be a part of.

If all of the employees had been doing their jobs like I wish they would have, I'm not sure the above exchange would have happened. I don't know if I would still have made a point to thank her then and there and make sure she knew her work was appreciated. That could be a whole different discussion on thankfulness. Regardless, I do know that I still remember this random interaction a few years later. I remember the girl who did a good job even when alone in doing so, and the mom proud of her daughter as a result.

"The fruit of the Spirit is...gentleness..."

 There seems to be a misconception in parts of society that gentleness is a bad thing, or gentleness equates to weakness. I hope I'm wrong about this conflation, because we need to remember that hidden behind gentleness is strength--strength that is laid aside or unused.

We often forget when enjoying a gentle breeze the power of the wind unleashed in a tornado. We often forget when enjoying the gentle lap of waves at the beach the power of tsunamis and flooding. We implicitly understand that these instances of gentleness are beneficial. We understand that untempered strength can be horrifying and destructive. We need to recognize the strength behind gentleness, and retain our appreciation for gentleness.

You've probably already noticed that I enjoy children's books. Not children's books in the modern, board book/picture sense, but children's book in the tradition of Narnia, The Hobbit, Fairy Tales, etc... The sense of gentleness as strength laid aside is not hard to find in these books. Some quick examples:

After he held her to his heart for a minute, he spoke to his white horse, and the great beautiful creature, which had been prancing so proudly a little while before, walked as gently as a lady--for he knew he had a little lady on his back--through the gate and up to the door of the house.

                              --From The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald

 The Lion shook his mane and clapped his paws together ("Terrible paws," thought Lucy, "if he didn't know how to velvet them!")

                              --From The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

Without gentleness in these instances, we would have a little girl thrown off a horse too powerful for her to handle riding, and the fierce claws of a lion. We would have fear, injury, and death.

But where I'm most grateful for gentleness is in how God shows his strength to bring justice to the nations. We read in Isaiah 42:1-4:

Behold my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my Spirit upon him;
    he will bring forth justice to the nations.
 He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice,
    or make it heard in the street;
 a bruised reed he will not break,
    and a faintly burning wick he will not quench;
    he will faithfully bring forth justice.
 He will not grow faint or be discouraged
    till he has established justice in the earth;
    and the coastlands wait for his law.

 This is the gentle, suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, who establishes justice not by trampling his enemies under foot or extinguishing them as strength could have easily allowed, but by bearing their sin and facing the full wrath of God in their stead. In this gentleness is the strength that overcomes sin, death, and the power of the devil. He was mocked for this gentleness so I probably shouldn't be surprised some do not appreciate gentleness now. I pray that those who don't appreciate gentleness now will ultimately gain this appreciation and be spared from facing untempered strength they cannot withstand.

The Plucked Bloom

The wind breathes fair,
and the lone flower, shy,
turns her face to share
beauty’s art with passersby.

But passerby, brash,
his lone need makes presume
to fair shyness thrash
and savagely pluck the bloom.

The wind gusts rue
as whisper lone leaves
dripping raindrops’ blue dew
to lost blossoming grieve.

Then passerby, Time,
drying bitterness’ tears,
beams upon summer’s prime,
rays of hope melting fears.

The wind breathes new
and fresh blossoms rustling sing
forth new growth from pruning's hew;
beauty healing the pain of spring.

[May 6, 2014]