Friday, February 24, 2012

Don’t look down!


I first heard the text below – don’t look yet! – and its accompanying tune from the ELW hymnal while listening to one of my most admired friends and colleagues play for a streamed chapel service online.  I first met him in the early days of grad school at Eastman – another of my newly found friends TOLD me that I was going to a service of Lessons and Carols at a Lutheran church in town.  I didn’t have a choice, I was going.  I said, well, ok.  I wasn’t really expecting much, but I was in for the surprise of my life.  I had never heard such hymn playing.  During the service I found myself singing as hard as I could, almost yelling the text at times, and I even found myself starting to belt out in chest voice so I could sing louder as I was encouraged to add fervor to the words by his improvisations.  It was a life changing experience, and my own hymn playing changed forever.  After that evening I never missed one Lessons and Carols service at that church, and after I graduated I made it a point to return for them when my schedule permitted, even through crazy snow storms.  It became a yearly pilgrimage for all of us who became close during those days.

Back to today’s music and text – don’t look!  I must admit that I did not know and could not hear the hymn text as I was first listening to it.  Nevertheless, I was completely taken by his rendition of it.  For a brief few moments, the world stopped and my mind quit running in its familiar, infuriating  circles.  There was nothing left but those few, heart-wrenching moments of musical pain.  Those of you who love Brahms will understand that statement. This particular colleague has the most incredible gift of improvisation coupled with a deep maturity and understanding of spiritual texts that I have never encountered again.   Before you read the text below, take a moment or two to listen for yourself – it begins around the 15:20 mark. 


What did you think?  Maybe you weren’t moved by it all – that’s ok, too.  For myself, I listened to the hymn over and over again.  After I finally looked up the text, I was not surprised to see that my friend had once again conveyed the feeling and meaning of the text though the music.  I LOVE the deep, dark textures he coaxed out of the organ – VERY Brahmsy.  I did not have to see the words as I listened – I felt them. 

What went through my head?  Believe it or not, my thoughts immediately went to the importance of the sacrifices we make for the people we love.  The importance of completely pouring ourselves out for the sake of the ones around us, to the point of being completely empty ourselves.  Helping loved ones as they are held hostage in the prisons of their own grief and pain.  In my experience I have found that when I truly committed to this path, it was disturbingly easy.  And the emptiness that follows wasn’t apparent until there was no turning back from the path I had chosen.  I gave beyond my reserve, going deeper with every dark turn.  As painful as this was, and as large as a wound it created, if I had the opportunity I would not change the course I had chosen because I know this is why we’ve been given to each other.  This is why we have been given the gift of family, friendship, community and love.  I need not worry about what happens to me when I am blessed enough to have people around me who will do the same – that is the gift of God within all of us, and for me, the true definition of freedom.

And now, the text of the hymn, which was written by Susan Palo Cherwien.  I was amazed when I read the text and found how much it complemented the thoughts that were inspired by the music.  I owe that to my incredibly talented colleague. 


In deepest night, in darkest days, 
When harps are hung, no songs we raise,
when silence must suffice as praise, 
yet sounding in us quietly 
there is the song of God.

When friend was lost, when love deceived, 
dear Jesus wept, God was bereaved;
with us in our grief God grieves, 
and round about us mournfully 
there are the tears of God.

When through the waters winds our path, 
around us pain, around us death:
deep calls to deep, a saving breath, 
and found beside us faithfully 
there is the love of God.


Thanks be to God for the gift of music.



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