Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia
— Easter Acclamation
During my tenure at Naval Air Station Lemoore (central California), I had the privilege of participating in the annual Child Remembrance Ceremony, in recognition of October as Child Loss Month. As part the ceremony, those who had personally experienced the death of a child (in utero or otherwise) were kind enough to share their stories of grief and hope, followed by the lighting of votive candles in memory of those who have departed this world in the faith. In addition to these faith stories, I was privileged to share one piece of sacred music with the assembly, along with an appropriate hymn or prayer. Though I am no longer part of the Lemoore community, these wounded healers are forever in my heart for sharing their stories, which stand in vivid theological contrast to the current promulgation of abortion as a “reproductive health option.” In recognition of the reality of child loss, please join me to explore the work “When David Heard” by Eric Whitacre (b. 1970), an appropriate hymn by St. Ephraim Syrus (ca. AD 306–373), and a simple funeral chant on the words Jesus spoke after the death of Lazarus.
While at Jerusalem, David’s son Absalom built support for himself by speaking to those who came to King David for justice, probably taking advantage of the relatively untested judicial system of the united monarchy. After four years he declared himself king, raised a revolt at Hebron, the former capital, and slept with his father's concubines. Many in Israel and Judah flocked to him, and David fled for his life. Absalom reached the capital as David took refuge from Absalom's forces beyond the Jordan River, where he prepared his troops for battle. A fateful father vs. son battle was fought in the Wood of Ephraim and Absalom's army was completely routed. Absalom's head was caught in the boughs of an oak tree as the mule he was riding ran beneath it. He was discovered there still alive by one of David's men, who reported this to Joab, he killed Absalom with three darts to the heart, against David’s explicit command to not kill Absalom. When David heard that Absalom was killed, he greatly sorrowed (2 Samuel 14–18).
Inspired by the inherent pain and sorrow of burying a rebellious adult son, composer Eric Whitacre has given us a choral work to be reckoned with on several levels. Fifteen minutes of unaccompanied singing in 8 parts (sometimes dividing into 18 parts) is a challenge in itself for conductors, performers, and even for listeners. The musical contrasts throughout the work are also striking. The sublimity of the opening and closing choral chants (functioning as an antiphon to the work) stands in vivid contrast to the veritable scream, “Absalom! Absalom! My son, my son!” in the center of the work. Triplets (sets of 3) are often set directly against duplets (sets of 2). Dynamic contrasts range from ppp to ff. Choral textures vary from unison lines to a three-octave spread toward the end of the work. And I think that those who have heard or sung the work will agree that its emotive power is nothing short of stunning. I invite you, the reader, to clear away all distractions, use your best electronic equipment, and journey with David into the depths of sorrow in preparation for the word of the resurrection.
Inspired by the inherent pain and sorrow of burying a rebellious adult son, composer Eric Whitacre has given us a choral work to be reckoned with on several levels. Fifteen minutes of unaccompanied singing in 8 parts (sometimes dividing into 18 parts) is a challenge in itself for conductors, performers, and even for listeners. The musical contrasts throughout the work are also striking. The sublimity of the opening and closing choral chants (functioning as an antiphon to the work) stands in vivid contrast to the veritable scream, “Absalom! Absalom! My son, my son!” in the center of the work. Triplets (sets of 3) are often set directly against duplets (sets of 2). Dynamic contrasts range from ppp to ff. Choral textures vary from unison lines to a three-octave spread toward the end of the work. And I think that those who have heard or sung the work will agree that its emotive power is nothing short of stunning. I invite you, the reader, to clear away all distractions, use your best electronic equipment, and journey with David into the depths of sorrow in preparation for the word of the resurrection.
When David heard that Absalom was slain
he went up into his chamber over the gate and wept,
my son, my son, O Absalom my son, would God I had died for thee!
he went up into his chamber over the gate and wept,
my son, my son, O Absalom my son, would God I had died for thee!
— II Samuel 18:33
In addition to the aforementioned features, did you notice one other aspect of the music that is striking? In his notes from the composer to the performers, Whitacre writes, “Above all, trust the silences.” Yes, trust the silences, for it is out of silence that music arises, and it is to silence that music must return.
Consider the silence around the death bed after a loved one has breathed his last. The shock and the horror—the time for reality to set in and for tears to fall. But then we hear the words “Let us pray,” followed by the comfort and consolation of the good news that our loved ones are not dead, but sleeping.
Think of the silence at the grave site, when the funeral home staff has left and the loved ones remain behind for a while to contemplate the life of faith of their departed loved one. Above all, it is from the silence of the grace, so vividly depicted in Whitacre’s “When David Heard,” that the trumpet shall sound on the last day, the dead shall be raised, and we will be reunited with our sons and daughters who have departed this world in the faith. Thanks be to God, who gives us this victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!
Now consider a similar hymn from St. Ephraim Syrus, deacon and hymnographer of the fourth century. The following hymn, which begins in a similar manner to David’s lament for Absalom, is subtitled “Motives for Restraining Sorrow.”
Consider the silence around the death bed after a loved one has breathed his last. The shock and the horror—the time for reality to set in and for tears to fall. But then we hear the words “Let us pray,” followed by the comfort and consolation of the good news that our loved ones are not dead, but sleeping.
Think of the silence at the grave site, when the funeral home staff has left and the loved ones remain behind for a while to contemplate the life of faith of their departed loved one. Above all, it is from the silence of the grace, so vividly depicted in Whitacre’s “When David Heard,” that the trumpet shall sound on the last day, the dead shall be raised, and we will be reunited with our sons and daughters who have departed this world in the faith. Thanks be to God, who gives us this victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!
Now consider a similar hymn from St. Ephraim Syrus, deacon and hymnographer of the fourth century. The following hymn, which begins in a similar manner to David’s lament for Absalom, is subtitled “Motives for Restraining Sorrow.”
| Oh my son, tenderly loved! Whom grace fashioned In his mother’s womb, And divine goodness completely formed . . . I fear to weep for thee, Because I am instructed That the Son of the Kingdom hath removed thee To His bright habitation. (Quoted in Gregory P. Schulz, The Problem of Suffering, pp. 129–130) |
Notice how the author hesitates to grieve for his child because the “Son of the Kingdom [Christ] hath removed thee / To his bright habitation.” That is to say, we grieve, as Whitacre’s music depicts so vividly and viscerally, and as the usual rituals accompanying death allow us to live out in word and in deed. But we do not grieve as those who have no hope, but as those who see through their grief to the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting, knowing that our departed children are at home with the Lord. The hymn concludes with these words:
| My judgment recalls me, And listens with admiration To the voices of those who live on high; To the song of the spiritual ones Who cry aloud, Hosannah! At thy marriage festival. (Schulz, A Father’s Hope, p. 131) |
“Hosanna” means “Save us now!” It is the cry of the Psalmist (118:23) and the prayer of Passover pilgrims who approached Jerusalem for the annual Passover feast, the supreme annual redemptive festival in the OT. It is the cry of the NT pilgrims who welcomed the Lamb of God to Jerusalem, knowing that this Jesus – David’s Son and David’s Lord—was the fulfillment of all that was written of the Messiah by the prophets of old.
Yes, “Hosanna!” is the acclamation of those who see their sin and know their Savior, the only-begotten Son, who died not out of rebellion against His Father, but as part of the Father’s Divine plan for us and for our salvation. At the cross, the innocent One died for the rebellious ones and made peace with God. The price is paid! Death is conquered! David’s tomb was well known in Jerusalem in Jesus’ day (Acts 2:29), but the tomb of Jesus is empty, for He is risen and He sits at God’s right hand, with death and the devil as His footstool (Ps. 110:1). “Save us now” is the prayer of faithful communicants, who join their voices with the those who live on high to receive a foretaste of the eternal marriage festival, a preliminary reunion with those they love who have departed in the faith.
Whitacre’s work—complex, challenging, and dissonant—delivers the ultimate musical expression of the law, a necessary precursor to the gospel. The hymn of St. Ephraim Syrus helps us see through our tears to the eternal supper of the Lamb. The following chant–a simple, unadorned and unharmonized melodic line—preaches the fullness of the gospel in just one minute of music, but it is enough to comfort the sorrowful, to wipe every tear from their eyes, and to prepare the faithful to depart in peace.
Yes, “Hosanna!” is the acclamation of those who see their sin and know their Savior, the only-begotten Son, who died not out of rebellion against His Father, but as part of the Father’s Divine plan for us and for our salvation. At the cross, the innocent One died for the rebellious ones and made peace with God. The price is paid! Death is conquered! David’s tomb was well known in Jerusalem in Jesus’ day (Acts 2:29), but the tomb of Jesus is empty, for He is risen and He sits at God’s right hand, with death and the devil as His footstool (Ps. 110:1). “Save us now” is the prayer of faithful communicants, who join their voices with the those who live on high to receive a foretaste of the eternal marriage festival, a preliminary reunion with those they love who have departed in the faith.
Whitacre’s work—complex, challenging, and dissonant—delivers the ultimate musical expression of the law, a necessary precursor to the gospel. The hymn of St. Ephraim Syrus helps us see through our tears to the eternal supper of the Lamb. The following chant–a simple, unadorned and unharmonized melodic line—preaches the fullness of the gospel in just one minute of music, but it is enough to comfort the sorrowful, to wipe every tear from their eyes, and to prepare the faithful to depart in peace.
| Ego sum resurrection et vita; qui credit in me, etiam si mortuus fuerit, vivet; et omnis vivit et credit in me, non morietur in aeternum. | I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whoever liveth and believeth in me, shall not die eternally. |
— St. John 11:25-26
+ Let us go forth in peace, in the name of the Lord! +
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