We’re about to head into our last, crazy week of rehearsals for this year’s production of Handel’s Messiah with The Mozart Club of Winston Salem. I was looking back through my posts for this time last year and found this, and it pretty much sums up how I still feel about Messiah, so I’m re-printing it here. The 2007 performance will be at Reynolds Auditorium at 3pm on Sunday, December 2nd – hope to see you there!
I’m performing in the chorus of Handel’s magnificent oratorio Messiah this weekend (Dec 3rd at 3pm in Reynolds Auditorium, for those interested). The community group that sponsors didn’t perform it last year, but I’ve done it every other year I’ve been in Winston Salem since I started graduate school. And moreso this year than any of the years previously (mostly cause I haven’t been doing any choral singing for over a year now), I’m so grateful for this chance to sing a masterpiece with other people who love Messiah as much as I do, with really great soloists and instrumentalists who do the work justice in performance.
We’ve had our rehearsals this week with the guest conductor who’s come in from NYC (he’s the choral conductor for the NYC Opera), and it’s amazing how much physical work actually goes into singing something like this. I was exhausted after a 2.5 hour rehearsal last night, and in pretty much the same place tonight after another one. But there are times in the middle of rehearsal where you can catch these glimpses of the genius of Handel, things that no matter how many times you’ve sung it will suddenly catch you by surprise; the power of a lyric you hear in a different way, or the clarity of an ascending line from the sopranos that brings a deep emotional response.
And every year, I’m amazed at the poignancy of his description of Christ’s birth, and the vitriole and anguish expressed in the Passion section, and the joy found in the Resurrection. Handel’s choruses describing the trial and death of Jesus are full of text-painting, with chorusmembers representing at one point the angry mob calling for Christ’s crucifixion (’He trusted in God, let Him deliver Him’), and at another the whips during His beatings (’The chastisment of our peace was upon Him’). Our guest conductor this year describes Messiah as more opera than oratorio and I think I agree with him – singing it, you feel like you’re living in the middle of ‘The Greatest Story Ever Told’, not just standing by watching it.
And it’s a good reminder as I kick off the busy holiday season, that beyond the ‘Jesus is the reason for the season’ platitudes, there is this: that Christ’s arrival on eath as a baby, while miraculous and glorious on its own, fits in the much larger scheme of God’s plan for redemption, and that His birth would mean little to us without his subsequent death on the cross. And that, friends, is what Messiah means to me.
I seem to oscillate in my music choices for running lately – between music with a really strong beat, and music with really strong lyrics. Sometimes I need the push of the rhythm to keep me moving when I feel like quitting, and then sometimes I need to have something other than my own thoughts to focus on, words that draw me away from all the stuff cluttering up my life. So tonight when I started my run (2 miles, woo!), I began with (and continued with) Indelible Grace. I love the depth of the lyrics, written long ago, but now set to different, beautiful melodies. This one especially struck me tonight, so I’m sharing it with you. It was just the thing I needed to hear tonight, so maybe it will be just the thing you need to hear too.
Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies
To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel
But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace,
Be deaf when I complain?
No still the ear of sovereign grace,
Attends the mourner’s prayer
Oh may I ever find access,
To breathe my sorrows there
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet,
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet
OK y’all – my mom just called to tell me that Dad is on his way back from Africa as we speak, because Larry (the guy who runs the orphanage and went over with him from the states) hurt his leg pretty badly. They should be back in Charlotte tomorrow afternoon, but I can only imagine how awful this trip (which is already normally quite long and difficult) is going to be for Larry. Dad said he’d try to call from Amsterdam tonight, but I have no idea what time they should even be there. So if you could, please say a prayer for them tonight and tomorrow – for safety and ease of travel and as little pain for Larry as possible. Thanks!
He was despised and rejected by men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
~Isaiah 53:3-6
O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory
What bliss ’til now was Thine
Yet though despised and gory
I joy to call Thee mine
What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered,
Was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor,
Vouchsafe me to Thy grace.
What language shall I borrow
To praise Thee, heavenly friend,
For this my dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Lord make me Thine forever,
Nor let me faithless prove
Oh let me never, never
Abuse such dying love
I’ve been thinking about community quite a lot lately, partly because I’m facing potentially having to leave my current community within the next year or two, and partly because it’s been the focus of several conversations and most recently the women’s conference at church this past weekend. This is probably going to be a bit rambly, so you’ll have to forgive me…
I believe that God has called us into community, to live as the spiritual brothers and sisters that we are. I know this will look different from each individual, but I believe that it is a crucial part of every believer’s life. Community is not only meant as a support system, but as a method for delivering truth to each of us. I am able to be aware of and respond to the needs of my friends only because we are living in a relationship that allows for open and honest communication. It seems that this is the kind of community that the church should model, including the responsibility to lovingly rebuke members who have gone astray or broken community.
We studied Colossians 3:15-17 at the conference this past weekend, which talks about not only about being ‘one body’ called to peace, but about ‘teaching and admonishing each other in all wisdom’, and also speaking God’s truth to each other through the singing of songs, hymns and spiritual songs, all of which are essential elements of any Christian community. The accountability that comes with being a part of Christian community is one of the benefits, but also one of the more difficult things about community. I believe that we are called to hold each other accountable in love and with humility, not wishing to beat the other person over the head with their sin, but to gently speak God’s truth into their life.
I remember the Sunday that I became a member of my church, three years ago this spring. Hunter always does a fantastic job of making the membership vows take on new meaning, and the major point that I will always remember is this:
By agreeing to membership here, you are inviting us to come after you. You are saying to us, ‘If I fall away from this community and start living my life as if I don’t know God, I am giving you permission to come after me and shake some sense into me.’ And in taking those membership vows, the congregation is promising to actually come after you, to pursue you and speak God’s truth into your life, to attempt to reconcile you with God primarily, and also with the community you were once a part of.
And that always gets me. So in those weeks when I would rather sleep in on a Sunday morning, I think about the things I promised, both as I joined the church and as I watched others join. And when I know my family would rather me stay at home the whole weekend with them, I know, for the most part, I need to come back and be with my church community. And I remember the promises I made when new babies are baptized and I know that my service in the nursery is a partial fulfillment of those promises. I think I often still see community from a very self-centered place, but I’m slowly learning to turn the focus from me to where it really belongs.