Lenten Canticle

A few Sundays ago, in those hushed and expectant moments right before the service begins, I found myself weighed down, fighting a numbing sadness that has accompanied a recent transition in my life. As I sat there, rather vacantly, I became aware that a gentle wave of consolation was sweeping over me - an intimate sense of commiseration. It took a minute, but I finally realized that the source of my solace was coming from music. Bill, our organist was playing an organ prelude.

I felt a bit like the mentally disturbed Saul being ministered to by David’s harp. How was it that these sounds could find their way deep into my sad cells? It wasn’t exactly peace that I felt, rather some deep intimate companionship. Some sense of being known and understood.

Listening, I realized the hymn was full of notes both minor and major, of tension and resolve, dissonance and resolution, joy and pain, light and shadow….just like real life. Like MY life right now, I thought. And yet, these musical intervals were understood, yes, even designed by God….invisible sound waves, vibrating with His spirit right to my spirit! With no effort on my part, I was able to receive God’s commiseration at that moment. I could hear St. Paul’s words: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.” Hebrews 4:15 This is a verse I will carry into the Lenten season.

Later, I asked Bill to tell me about the piece he had played. It turned out to hold a significant place in his life too. It was written by Fr. Christopher Uehlein, a monk at Blue Cloud Abbey in Marvin, South Dakota. Bill had the honor of meeting with him at the abbey 6 years ago, and, in a private concert, heard this piece for the first time.
The piece is called Cantabile, which is an adjective describing the music as smooth, flowing, melodious,….SINGING!

Of course! It all made sense. God, the Father, was simply singing over His daughter at church! Comforting, quieting her with His love. O, what wondrous love is this!

In the numbness of your need, the weariness of your weakness, may you hear Him singing over you - through the barren-beauty of your Lenten Journey.

The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

Waking up to a New Year

2009 dawned just like the surprising NEW snow that greeted us on January 2nd. There it lay, spreading out in blazing white, covering over every imperfection and bit of mud and weed, a face-lift to the usual dismal, unkempt January landscape. A visual picture of a new start, a clean slate!

I always get a spark of hope this time of year. Resolutions abound, unreasonable expectations crowd through rational thought and I am giddy with the prospect of the new manageable, disciplined life before me. But like that new snow, muddy footprints, and brown slush will soon replace my pristine predictions. But still – I’m infatuated with January. I make new to-do lists, strict financial budgets, and unrealistic plans for exercise and diet. Plans to excavate the papers in my office (for the umpteenth year in a row) fill me with heady resolve! AND I am in my 2nd week on a schedule to read the Bible through in a year. Like a young lover, I am giddy, dizzy with hope and full of amnesia about my past failures! Will I never learn?
Emily Dickinson writes:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all….

Even in the face of failure, I can’t let go of HOPE. And neither can God. Last week, as I read my selected Bible passage, I watched what God did with HIS big disappointment. There’s the Garden of Eden. It’s perfect! Not a weed, not a stinging bug, no apple maggot or peach curl! And Adam and Eve are unblemished, naked, happy as clams at low tide, enjoying Paradise like a couple of kids. And then things start to unravel…like that blanket of snow that melts to reveal the brown muddy earth beneath.

But God redeems us when we fail. In the first chapter of Isaiah, the Lord says, "Now, let's settle the matter. You are stained red with sin, but I will wash you as clean as snow.”

What relief is in those words, “I WILL.” He chooses to love and help us! And God knows our limitations! So maybe my only resolution this year will be simply to look and listen each new day to the voice that whispers: I WILL! I will help you. I will lead you. I will comfort you. I will strengthen you. I will forgive you.” Like that picture of new snow: “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lam. 3:22