. . . that we, being defended from the fear of our enemies,
may live in peace and quietness.
-- Collect for Peace
may live in peace and quietness.
-- Collect for Peace
It began as a serene Tuesday morning. The rumble of New York City (humming at an ultrasonic low B-flat, in case you were curious) continued unabated as residents hurried to work by various forms of public transit or on foot. The sun shone brightly in the East and everything appeared to be a normal working day in Manhattan. And then horrific events unfolded in semi-apocalyptic form: “. . . the distress of nations in perplexity . . . people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world” (Luke 21:25-26). How did the church respond to this atrocity? In addition to humanitarian efforts and preaching the theology of the cross, she sang. And how she sang, even in the midst of the greatest calamity most of us will ever experience.
Please join me to explore three biblical concepts—joy, light, and companionship—along with three choral works on these themes. My co-teacher will be Rev. Harold Senkbeil, a dear friend and father in Christ, whose book, Christ and Calamity: Grace & Gratitude in the Darkest Valley, inspired the textual content of this issue of “Lifted Voice.” With a publication date of 2020, Harold was talking primarily about the Christian response to the pandemic. Transcendent truth, however, applies to every time and place for those who take refuge in the shadow of the Almighty.
Please join me to explore three biblical concepts—joy, light, and companionship—along with three choral works on these themes. My co-teacher will be Rev. Harold Senkbeil, a dear friend and father in Christ, whose book, Christ and Calamity: Grace & Gratitude in the Darkest Valley, inspired the textual content of this issue of “Lifted Voice.” With a publication date of 2020, Harold was talking primarily about the Christian response to the pandemic. Transcendent truth, however, applies to every time and place for those who take refuge in the shadow of the Almighty.
Christ Our Joy
Senkbeil writes, “. . . Christ and calamity are bound together within the grace of God” (p. 73). In other words, there is nothing that can happen on this earth—plague, mass casualty events, war, etc.--that is not outside God’s grace, for He continues to rule over all and work through evil to bring good. The truth of God’s abiding grace, however, was not evident to all after 9/11. Calamities reveal the best and worst in us, and 9/11 was no exception. Many tried to explain the presence of evil under the rule of a gracious God, apparently unaware God has not revealed all and that explanations fall short of scriptural fidelity and therefore offer no comfort. One popular TV celebrity proclaimed that the victims of 9/11 became angels, and her followers uncritically adopted her false doctrine. And others joined in public prayer with those who believe differently, quite content with the shallow slogan, “It’s okay to pray.”
Terrorism was present in America. False doctrine was prevalent in the church. Where did the faithful go for comfort? The Beatitudes (St. Matthew 5:1-12) are helpful here. The first half of each beatitude describes the present state of the believer: “poor in spirit,” “those who mourn,” “the meek,” etc.). This is the life of discipleship and life under the cross of suffering. The Christian faith does not demand an explanation of evil, as if God owes us one or as if He should conform to our tidy, Aristotelean categories. Rather, the Christian rejoices in what God has revealed, as you can see in the second half of each beatitude: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Shifting to the future tense, the Beatitudes have an eschatological tone: those who mourn will be comforted, the meek will inherit the earth, and the peacemakers will be called sons of God. Terrorism in American airspace and on domestic soil reminded the faithful of the abiding threat of evil, as sure as the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 B. C. was a wake-up call for old Israel to repent and turn to the Lord. But those who flee to Him in penitent faith will not be disappointed, for theirs is a heavenly kingdom that transcends all earthly splendor.
Musical settings of the Beatitudes are rare when compared to settings of the Psalms and the Canticles. American composer Craig Phillips, however, has provided a beautiful and accessible setting for choir and organ. Notice how each beatitude is musically divided into two textual and musical phrases, the first phrase depicting the state of the believer now (“poor in spirit,” “those who mourn,” “the meek,” etc.), and the second half of each phrase often shifting to brighter musical palettes to depict God’s blessings in the midst of sorrow. Of special significance is verse 12, “Rejoice and be glad, for great is your reward in heaven,” which features the only textual repetition in the entire work, and an “Alleluia” that seems to reach the very heights of heaven. Again from Senkbeil: “Trusting his sure word, [God] will see you through your present sadness into everlasting joy on the day of his coming” (p. 73).
Terrorism was present in America. False doctrine was prevalent in the church. Where did the faithful go for comfort? The Beatitudes (St. Matthew 5:1-12) are helpful here. The first half of each beatitude describes the present state of the believer: “poor in spirit,” “those who mourn,” “the meek,” etc.). This is the life of discipleship and life under the cross of suffering. The Christian faith does not demand an explanation of evil, as if God owes us one or as if He should conform to our tidy, Aristotelean categories. Rather, the Christian rejoices in what God has revealed, as you can see in the second half of each beatitude: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Shifting to the future tense, the Beatitudes have an eschatological tone: those who mourn will be comforted, the meek will inherit the earth, and the peacemakers will be called sons of God. Terrorism in American airspace and on domestic soil reminded the faithful of the abiding threat of evil, as sure as the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 B. C. was a wake-up call for old Israel to repent and turn to the Lord. But those who flee to Him in penitent faith will not be disappointed, for theirs is a heavenly kingdom that transcends all earthly splendor.
Musical settings of the Beatitudes are rare when compared to settings of the Psalms and the Canticles. American composer Craig Phillips, however, has provided a beautiful and accessible setting for choir and organ. Notice how each beatitude is musically divided into two textual and musical phrases, the first phrase depicting the state of the believer now (“poor in spirit,” “those who mourn,” “the meek,” etc.), and the second half of each phrase often shifting to brighter musical palettes to depict God’s blessings in the midst of sorrow. Of special significance is verse 12, “Rejoice and be glad, for great is your reward in heaven,” which features the only textual repetition in the entire work, and an “Alleluia” that seems to reach the very heights of heaven. Again from Senkbeil: “Trusting his sure word, [God] will see you through your present sadness into everlasting joy on the day of his coming” (p. 73).
Christ Our Light
The concept of light piercing the darkness is especially poignant for the events of 9/11. Thousands of residents in lower Manhattan scrambled into the nearest building as the first tower fell from the sky. As the rubble filled all of lower Manhattan, many who took shelter from the stormy blast experienced absolute darkness. Unless one counts controlled darkness in the caves of North Carolina, I have not felt the terror of a total blackout. Those who have experienced it, however, testify with one accord that it plunges one into the very terrors of death itself. In the case of 9/11, the situation was especially traumatic because it included not just darkness, but the threat of war, the toxic contents of the debris, and the abiding question of how one was going to return safely home that night.
It is no wonder that darkness is present throughout the Scriptures in literal and non-literal ways. Senkbeil writes:
It is no wonder that darkness is present throughout the Scriptures in literal and non-literal ways. Senkbeil writes:
| | . . . [D]arkness comes in all sizes and shapes. When you wrestle with chronic worry or pass through deep valleys of anguish, grief, or despair, it’s hard to cling to God’s promises. If your body is also wracked with pain, it’s hard to think straight, let alone pray. If your mind is locked in trauma mode and you’re hit with panic attacks, it’s hard to focus on anything else. If your heart is pounding and your head is reeling, it’s hard to think of God, much less pray (pp. 78-79). |
From literal darkness to spiritual darkness, where can you find light in the darkness? Behold the great comfort of the light of Christ! Psalm 139 reminds us that God is everywhere, even when your senses deceive us. When you cannot see Him, He still sees you. From the heights of heaven to the depths of your worst moment, His gracious presence will not fail. When you feel abandoned, His hand still leads you and His love always supports you. Yes, when the rumble of Manhattan’s underground gives way to the quaking of buildings, the sun is eclipsed by the debris veritably falling out of the sky, God is your strength, your rock, and your tower.
The Psalmist writes, “Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as day, for darkness is as light with you” (139:11-12). In other words, the same God who created the light to pierce the darkness is not shaken by the calamities of this world. He sent His Son, the true Light, into this world to conquer the darkness of sin and death. Under the darkness of Good Friday, He “snatched life from the jaws of death. . . . Three days later, He emerged from the grave victorious over death and hell, transforming this world’s darkness into everlasting life” (Senkbeil, p. 82).
The following Anglican chant setting of Psalm 139 allows the text to predominate, with no textual repetition. This Psalm is frequently appointed for Vespers (vespera = evening), allowing the faithful to pray for God’s gracious presence before they lie down and sleep in darkness, knowing that the Lord will grant them a quiet night and peace at the last.
The Psalmist writes, “Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as day, for darkness is as light with you” (139:11-12). In other words, the same God who created the light to pierce the darkness is not shaken by the calamities of this world. He sent His Son, the true Light, into this world to conquer the darkness of sin and death. Under the darkness of Good Friday, He “snatched life from the jaws of death. . . . Three days later, He emerged from the grave victorious over death and hell, transforming this world’s darkness into everlasting life” (Senkbeil, p. 82).
The following Anglican chant setting of Psalm 139 allows the text to predominate, with no textual repetition. This Psalm is frequently appointed for Vespers (vespera = evening), allowing the faithful to pray for God’s gracious presence before they lie down and sleep in darkness, knowing that the Lord will grant them a quiet night and peace at the last.
Christ Our Companion
As a pastor on Florida’s Gulf Coast from 1995 until 2002, I sheltered in place through many hurricanes. The day after a hurricane, those who rode out the storm emerged from their shelter, assessed the damage, and cleaned up the mess. After 9/11, however, this simply was not possible. Even years after the events of 9/11, I visited a dear soul in lower Manhattan who had barely left her home since the attacks, and she is but one example of the challenge of post-trauma isolation.
What comfort can the church offer to those who suffer long-term loneliness after a calamity? When you are alone, Christ is with you. Psalm 90 is very realistic about the transient nature of human life. Even a thousand years are “like grass that is renewed in the morning: in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers” 90:5-6). Isaiah uses a similar metaphor, but he adds a note of hope: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever” (40:8).
When towers fall out of the sky, God’s Word stands tall and His promises remain steadfast. When calamity strikes, Christ is still strong to save, for “in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:17). When your spirit sinks and you do not know how to pray, “the [Holy] Spirit intercedes for [you], with groans that words cannot express,” even as He “intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will” (Rom. 8:26-27). Senkbeil writes, “Jesus promises to be with us every step of the way, even in calamity and the darkest valleys of our lives. He ties his eternal presence to his living and abiding word” (p. 93).
Isaac Watts needs no introduction to readers of “Lifted Voice.” His metrical setting of Psalm 90:1-6 rang true after the collapse of the World Trade Centers, especially the phrase “our shelter from the stormy blast.” The cathedral setting for this recording is another reminder of God’s enduring presence. In contrast to Graeco-Roman ruins and Egyptian pyramids, England’s mighty cathedrals are still used for their original purpose, the worship of God as the source and summit of our life in Christ. As such, they still stand as a reminder of “our eternal home” and the “shadow of [God’s] throne,” where “our defense is sure.”
What comfort can the church offer to those who suffer long-term loneliness after a calamity? When you are alone, Christ is with you. Psalm 90 is very realistic about the transient nature of human life. Even a thousand years are “like grass that is renewed in the morning: in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers” 90:5-6). Isaiah uses a similar metaphor, but he adds a note of hope: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever” (40:8).
When towers fall out of the sky, God’s Word stands tall and His promises remain steadfast. When calamity strikes, Christ is still strong to save, for “in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:17). When your spirit sinks and you do not know how to pray, “the [Holy] Spirit intercedes for [you], with groans that words cannot express,” even as He “intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will” (Rom. 8:26-27). Senkbeil writes, “Jesus promises to be with us every step of the way, even in calamity and the darkest valleys of our lives. He ties his eternal presence to his living and abiding word” (p. 93).
Isaac Watts needs no introduction to readers of “Lifted Voice.” His metrical setting of Psalm 90:1-6 rang true after the collapse of the World Trade Centers, especially the phrase “our shelter from the stormy blast.” The cathedral setting for this recording is another reminder of God’s enduring presence. In contrast to Graeco-Roman ruins and Egyptian pyramids, England’s mighty cathedrals are still used for their original purpose, the worship of God as the source and summit of our life in Christ. As such, they still stand as a reminder of “our eternal home” and the “shadow of [God’s] throne,” where “our defense is sure.”
You might be surprised that none of the compositions featured in this article were written as responses to 9/11. I was surprised as well! There were several commissions in the years following the attack. As a resident of New York City from 2002 until 2015, I was privileged to be a part of several musical performances in New York City and memorial services in Queens. The newly commissioned works, however, had little to do with Christ in calamity. While there was much beautiful and powerful music to be heard, many of the texts embraced multiple faith traditions and false doctrine, indicative of the pluralism of our day. Similarly, many Protestant choir directors quickly realized that “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart” (repeat x666!) did not seem to be fitting as black smoke and soot lingered over lower Manhattan and drifted into nearby suburbs on Sunday September 16th.
In contrast to the Zeitgeist of ubiquitous pluralism and ephemeral praise music, Lutheran church music at its best did not need to change after 9/11. Dr. Barbara Resch notes that during that tragic week in 2001 she was teaching her children’s choir an anthem that combined the Latin text, “Da Pacem” with Luther’s “Lord, Keep Us Steadfast in Thy Word,” which they began practicing before 9/11 and were rehearsing on September 12th. She writes, “I hope and expect that when these adolescents are in their fifties they may call on [Luther’s hymns] to give expression to a prayer that they may be helpless to frame themselves” (Christ’s Gifts in the Liturgy: The Theology and Music of the Divine Service, p. 92). These words, set to music by Luther and later by Felix Mendelssohn, rang true in the aftermath of 9/11 and continue to be your prayer to Christ as your Joy, Light, and Companion in the midst of calamity:
In contrast to the Zeitgeist of ubiquitous pluralism and ephemeral praise music, Lutheran church music at its best did not need to change after 9/11. Dr. Barbara Resch notes that during that tragic week in 2001 she was teaching her children’s choir an anthem that combined the Latin text, “Da Pacem” with Luther’s “Lord, Keep Us Steadfast in Thy Word,” which they began practicing before 9/11 and were rehearsing on September 12th. She writes, “I hope and expect that when these adolescents are in their fifties they may call on [Luther’s hymns] to give expression to a prayer that they may be helpless to frame themselves” (Christ’s Gifts in the Liturgy: The Theology and Music of the Divine Service, p. 92). These words, set to music by Luther and later by Felix Mendelssohn, rang true in the aftermath of 9/11 and continue to be your prayer to Christ as your Joy, Light, and Companion in the midst of calamity:
| Grant peace, we pray, in mercy, Lord; Peace in our time, O send us! For there is none on earth but You, None other to defend us. You only, Lord, can fight for us. Amen. -- LSB 777 |
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