temptation...

It is clear to me that my Place is at my current parish for now, and (Lord willing) the next couple of years and probably quite a bit more. The parish is preparing to go into an interim period, and it is absolutely clear to me that I must help see them through it.

Further, my sense of the Spirit's leadership has been clear for quite a few years that this is my last full-time church position, for reasons known to God alone. I have paid no attention whatsoever to "positions available" listings in the organists' monthly journal. No matter what position might open up, I am Not Interested.

So what should come through my e-mail box today (via the RSCM newsletter) but this, perhaps the only church in the world in which I would be interested?

R. E. Lee Memorial Church, Episcopal, in Lexington, Virginia, invites applications for the position of full-time Director of Music.

This is Mr. Lee's church. I prayed there last summer [July 24, 2011] and his spirit is strong there, in some ways stronger in this church where he was Senior Warden than across the green in the Lee Chapel at his old office and burial place. Quite aside from all that, it is work for which I would be qualified, though handbells are important there and I have not dealt with them for the last twelve years (I have strong handbell experience for the twenty-odd years prior to that). It is an RSCM-affiliated parish with strong choral programs for children and adults. Their current pipe organ is not very good, but they are looking to replace it.

And it is in Virginia. Not just that, but my beloved Valley of Virginia. It is less than a two hour's drive from our old Farm in the hill country. We could put up a little vacation cottage there...

But it is not for me. For one thing, I am interested in it for the wrong reasons; the history of the place would blind me to the reality of the present. It would be like returning to work in the town where I grew up. And it would be entirely unsuitable for my wife, a thoroughgoing Midwesterner.

Why am I musing about this in a public venue? It guarantees that I will not succumb to temptation and send a resume off to Lexington.

Mr. Lee was offered a very attractive position which he refused because his Duty did not lie there. I can best honor him by doing the same. But I will say a prayer that they find a person suitable for the position and that God will bless them all in their ministry in that sleepy old college town.

The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended

The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
the darkness falls at thy behest;
to thee our morning hymns ascended,
thy praise shall sanctify our rest.

For a variety of reasons I did not manage a proper warmup on the organ pieces either this morning or in the afternoon for Evensong; still, they all went well enough. I believe that I played well for the contemporary service too, finishing with a piano improvisation on St. Patrick's Breastplate, a tune which I love.

Better still, the choir sang well at both services. I was especially proud of them for repairing the pitch on the Evensong responses: we were drifting flat, I indicated to them that they should raise the pitch as we chanted the Lord's Prayer, and they did – just as we had practiced earlier in the choir season.

We had a small congregation at the Choral Eucharist, but they took a stanza of Nicaea (Holy, holy, holy; Lord God Almighty) unaccompanied with their usual elegant singing; this was another highlight of the day for me, much better than any of my own playing.

We thank thee that thy Church, unsleeping
while earth rolls onward into light,
through all the world her watch is keeping
and rests not now by day or night.

The day was not without its problems. One of the street people we have helped was in a bad way today; he came in at 6:30 am as I was attempting to practice, wanting money “to buy clothes.” He was acting strangely; I told him so, asking him if he was stoned. “No. That's the same thing the police thought; they said 'you're acting like you're on meth.' But I don't do drugs.” I am not convinced of that. I finally got him on his way, but he returned after the Choral Eucharist, again seeking money from the people “for some lunch.” They told him of the free dinner at the Salvation Army a bit later in the day.

I encountered him yet again as I returned from my own dinner at the Chinese restaurant. “My bus leaves at 4:00. I can't go to that Salvation Army dinner, and I'm hungry.” Despite my determination not to help him, I gave him $5.

Two of the fears I have about helping people were in evidence today: one is the idea that I am throwing money away, giving it to people who will immediately spend it on drugs or booze, which may have happened with that $5 (and some of the other money I have given this fellow over the past months). The other fear is entanglement: another of our “regulars” passed through a couple of times today. He was fresh out of jail, having spent a week there for marijuana possession, and full of cheer. But he was asking a long-term commitment of me that I am not willing to give.

And all of this was when I wanted to focus on the day's music, which is my primary duty.

As o'er each continent and island
the dawn leads on another day,
the voice of prayer is never silent,
nor dies the strain of praise away.

This weekend is the Queen's Jubilee. I believe that when an earthly monarch is faithful to her duty as she has been for these sixty years, it points toward the King of Kings, whose name is Faithful and True (Revelation 19:4-16). The manner in which Elizabeth's life is bound up with her nation and her subjects is not dissimilar in its way to the manner in which the Christ has become bound up with us his servants, giving his life for us. I think that she would be pleased if her life could point others toward the one whom she acknowledges as Lord and Saviour.

[EDITED to add, mostly for my own reference: A Sermon by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Tuesday 5th June 2012]

So be it, Lord; thy throne shall never,
like earth's proud empires, pass away;
thy kingdom stands, and grows for ever,
till all thy creatures own thy sway.

By the time I got everyone out the door after an evening concert and locked the church, I was reduced to puttering around and doing a few items from my overflowing “In” box while listening to the BBC Choral Evensong. As our fine Evensong sermon said, this day is a point of equipoise; we have finished one cycle and begin another.

There is a book entitled “Lark Rise to Candleford,” given to me by one of my dearest friends many years ago. In that book, it became clear in retrospect that Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee was a point of transition, after which most of what had been good fell into decay and death. It may be that this Diamond Jubilee is too; the world seems bent on careening toward ruin.

Unto God's care we commit ourselves, and all the families of the earth.

Addendum

Upon reflection, it is clear that the playing of the organ works of Bach is not the only reason I exist. I left the previous essay as it was, for it is indicative that this is how I felt by the end of a long day of practice; I was entirely caught up in the music. There are other reasons: in order to add my voice to the prayers of Holy Mother Church in the Daily Office, especially Choral Evensong; to encourage others, especially my wife and friends (and in a small way, those of you who read these pages).

Not least, I exist in order to do my part in preparing the choristers and others committed to my care for that great and final Day through the disciplines of choral rehearsal, congregational hymns, service music, and Psalmody. We shall hear of this tomorrow at Evensong:

Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour unto him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. And to her it was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.

And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith unto me, These are the true sayings of God. (Revelation 19:7-9)

Friday night: Bach and the glory of God

The Bach pieces have gone well these last two Sundays. This week, Trinity Sunday, is the larger part of it, with the E Flat “St. Anne” Prelude and Fugue, the large settings of the Kyrie/Christe/Kyrie from the Clavierubung, plus a reprise of the gentle second setting of Komm, heiliger Geist for a memorial service tomorrow morning (plus, I think, Vor deinen Thron tret' ich for the postlude. It is an unusual service, and I am not yet sure what to do to conclude it. The final hymn is at the piano, so I might improvise a postlude instead of playing Bach. My normal funeral postlude is the St. Anne Fugue, but in this case it doesn't seem quite right).

Today held almost six hours of practice on these things, running well into the evening; I just finished a little while ago. I am worn out.

I mentioned the biography of Bach by Malcolm Boyd in the essay on May 18. He notes that Bach scholarship since the 1970's has tended to put Bach's motivations in a different light. No longer do the modern scholars think that he sought in any particular way to glorify God by what he was doing; he worked in churches for much of his life, but it was simply a way to make a living. His true motivation, so they say, was Music.

I think that this says more about modern scholarship than it does about Bach.

One always learns from the great composers. This fortnight of Bach has taught me some specifically musical lessons, but they are probably less important than the spiritual lesson. As I worked my way through the Kyrie/Christe/Kyrie this evening – three hours of it – the lesson was the one summarized in the Westminster Catechism of the Puritans:

Q. What is the chief end of man?
A. Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever.

Insofar as one can gather anything about a composer from his music, it seems clear to me that Bach wrote these three pieces, and the entire Third Part of the Clavierubung from which all of this Sunday's organ music is to come, with no other end than the glory of the undivided Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. That is what is left for the organist as well, once the dross is burned out.

Or it should be thus. Some months ago, I heard a performance of the E Flat Prelude and Fugue that seemed to have a different motivation behind it: virtuosity, and the glorification of the performer. The player was a graduate student, and perhaps he will grow into this music in a few decades. Or not; I am not sure one can play these things if one insists on coming at them from a thoroughly secular perspective.

Is it a waste of time to spend all this time playing Bach? Perhaps.
But it is the reason I exist.

Sunday Warmups, and Death of a Keyboard

Sunday Warmups

Playing accurately in the Sunday services has been a concern for me; on many occasions, I have been adequately prepared, but have made too many note errors when the time came to play in the service. I have mostly played better in my sporadic recitals, which causes me to think that the problem is with my Sunday routine. Circumstances are not ideal; I must do whatever practice there will be before Matins at 7:15, and the choral service (with organ) is not until 11:00. Try as I might, I find it difficult to arrive at the church before about 6:00 -- many weeks it is more like 6:15 or even 6:30, especially in the winter -- and there are other things which I must do before climbing on the organ bench. It falls to me to unlock the church, turn on the lights, open the Sacristry and Vestry, prepare the Chapel for Matins. Thus, I am usually left with forty minutes or less of practice time, and some of this belongs to the hymns and service music.

There is not enough time for a full Workout on the voluntaries. And a simple play-through at tempo has not proven adequate. Nor is it sufficient to do a slow play-through as I do to conclude my Workouts on a piece. I have tried a new method for my warmup these past two Sundays, as follows: (1) At slow tempo (perhaps half-tempo), play through a “period” -- that is, a musically logical section of about one or two pages, or roughly forty-five seconds or a minute in performance duration. (2) Play it again, using one of the modified rhythms that are basic to my practice technique, perhaps one-beat groupings (typically four sixteenth-notes). (3) Move on to the next period.

That’s it. It takes about three times the performance duration of the piece to get through it in this manner. Unfortunately, I ran out of time on both Sundays and had to skimp on the easier passages. With today's two settings of Komm, heiliger Geist, the fantasia which I played as postlude got the full treatment, which it definitely needed. The second setting, which I played as a prelude, has leisurely stretches of two-voice counterpoint in the manuals between phrases of the chorale; this is where I skimped. I gave the statements of the chorale and the exquisite (and tricky) coda the full treatment. Service settings and anthem accompaniments get the same treatment.

For the hymns, most of the preparation happens earlier in the week, especially on Saturday. On Sunday morning, I must play through my introduction, and start each stanza in order to work through the stop changes between stanzas and have them clear in my mind, also to remind myself what techniques I am applying to each stanza. I write all of this down on a slip of paper which is clipped to the hymnal, but it needs the Sunday morning “reminder.” If a stanza has a significant improvisatory content, I play through the entire stanza.


Death of a Keyboard

In 1995, I got the notion that as a Keyboard Musician, I ought to have an electronic keyboard. After considerable research and shopping, I purchased an Ensoniq EPS-16 Plus. It was the floor demonstrator at the music store, the model was being superseded by something newer, and I was able to buy it at half price, about $1,200. The EPS-16 loaded its operating system and sound files from floppy diskettes, which were the same as were used on the Apple II computer. [HERE is a description and photo of the machine. Note that it gets a five-star “Awesome” rating. I would agree, except for the repair and obsolescence issue – for which see below.]

I eventually built my own speakers (an enjoyable project, and they turned out very well) and used a home stereo amplifier from a pawn shop. It all worked well, and I used it professionally a few times, mostly for funerals in locations where there was not an instrument. But I never played it very much, especially after we sold our house and moved into an apartment with no space to leave it set up. For these last twelve years it has mostly languished in its black bag behind my rocking chair.

Last fall I got it out, set it up, and prepared to play. It did not work. I took it to the local music store, and the technician opened it up. He found that a resistor had fried on the motherboard. This ought to be a simple repair, but it turned out that there are no schematics or technical notes on the Ensoniq EPS anywhere, nor are any replacement motherboards available. When the company was bought out in 1998 and then dissolved a couple of years later, any technical information that might have existed disappeared. The technician consulted with colleagues and hunted around on the Internet: nothing. So, my keyboard was dead. “As useless as a broken pot,” as the Psalmist says.

At the technician’s advice, I looked around on eBay with the idea of getting an identical unit and seeing if I could keep one unit working by using the other for parts. I even bid on a couple of used units, but the price always got away from me.

Half a year has passed. I have come to realize that my wife was right: on the day that it died, she said “You never use it. Why do you keep it around?” But it has taken me this long to come to where I was ready to part with it. My attachment to it was that I put a lot of time into learning how to use it well. I sampled several ranks of organ pipes from the instrument I played at the time so that I could practice organ music at home -- something I never did after all that work.

Getting rid of it forces me to admit that I was probably wrong in buying it in the first place. But I suppose the experience has been instructive, in the same way that most of my interactions with computers have been – as soon as one gets properly comfortable with a computer, it is obsolete, along with all of the software one has learned to use.

I am tempted to swear off electronic musical instruments. Why own something that will only last twenty years or so and is unrepairable? A traditional acoustic piano or a mechanical action pipe organ will last a lifetime, more likely several lifetimes. And when they break down, they can be repaired. But I have kept the speakers, amplifier, stand, and other accessories that would be usable with another unit, in case I change my mind. If I do, I suspect I will not like it as well as my old EPS.

I still own one keyboard instrument: a Clavichord. It currently functions primarily as a table in my office, as there is no space for it in our apartment. It is no more obsolete now than it was thirty-plus years when I built it from a kit. It works fine, and if it doesn’t, I can repair it -- indeed, there is hardly anything that can go wrong with it other than an occasional broken string. For now, I rarely use it, not when I can conveniently play the organ or piano. But when I retire, it will likely be my primary instrument.

On Friday, I took the Ensoniq to the music store and gave it to the technician. He is going to keep it around for parts, many of which are interchangeable with other Ensoniq instruments.

A fortnight of Bach

Ascension, Pentecost, Trinity: For the three Sundays in this period, I must play either Bach or Messiaen; nothing less will suffice. Last year I played three of the movements from Messiaen’s Ascension Suite, as Evensong fell on the Sunday after Ascension Day. This year, with Evensong on Trinity Sunday, the choice falls with Bach.

Having thus committed myself to a fortnight of Bach, I decided to further immerse myself by reading a biography: “Bach,” by Malcolm Boyd (Vintage Books: 1987). It is a delightful little volume (290 pages), intended primarily for the general reader.

“I must be about my Father’s business.” That would be a suitable epigraph for Bach; from his childhood, he worked diligently at the craft of Music. One sees this in an appendix of this biography: a list of Bach’s works by BWV number -- over a thousand of them. Many of these works are small of stature, but not all -- e.g.: the B Minor Mass (BWV 232), the St. Matthew Passion (BWV 244), the Musical Offering (BWV 1079). Much, also, has been lost, especially in the church music: we have only two of the five Passion settings and slightly over half of the Cantatas.

Looking at this list, I am reminded of a project I would like to undertake before I die: a performance of all four books of the Clavierübung. I have played much of it over the years, but most of it would need a lot of work to prepare for a performance, especially all in one season. Crucially, almost none of it would have even a tangential relationship to my church duties.

Part I: Six Partitas for Clavier. I have played only one of these, back when I was an undergraduate student. They are thoroughly delightful, the equal in stature of the more famous Partitas for Solo Violin and Solo Violoncello. Quite aside from any larger project, it would benefit me to learn these.

Part II: Overture, and Italian Concerto. I have played the latter, when I was in my twenties, but not the former.

Part III (the only part for Organ): “St. Anne” Prelude and Fugue, which I have played often (and which is coming up for this Trinity Sunday); nine settings of the Lutheran Kyrie and Gloria (three of these will be the prelude for Trinity Sunday Evensong: Kyrie, Gott Vater in Ewigkeit; Christe, alle Welt Trost; Kyrie Gott Heiliger Geist); six “catechism” chorales, each in a large setting plus a small manuals-only setting, corresponding (perhaps) to Luther’s Greater and Lesser Catechisms (Ten Commandments, the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, baptism, penitence, Communion); four enigmatic (and rarely-played) Duets. At one time or another, I have played almost all of this, lacking only a couple of the chorale settings and one of the Duets. Some of them are quite challenging.

Part IV: the “Goldberg” Variations. Some twenty years ago, there was a year when the church I served was getting a new pipe organ. In those days, I played an annual recital, and with no organ at hand, I decided to play the Variations, and did so in concert at a nearby college chapel. They are a thoroughgoing delight to study and play. But they are not properly fingered, and I am not sure that I have the keyboard facility to play them nowadays. I will add that I played them on the pianoforte, and much prefer this instrument for them because of its expressive possibilities.

It would be magnificent to program this over a series of recitals. But I have become less ambitious about undertaking such a project as the years have passed; it would be a lot of work, perhaps more than I can do while performing my appointed duties. I often feel that I cannot even perform those at a reasonable standard, much less attempt something beyond them.

Yet it was precisely when he was my age, in his late fifties, that Bach undertook some of his most extensive projects: Parts Three and Four of the Clavierübung date from this period; the Musical Offering, the B Minor Mass, and the Art of Fugue lay ahead. And he did this work in the midst of numerous duties, all of which he discharged faithfully, and a household full of young children -- the last of them, Regina Susanna Bach, was born only in 1742, when Bach was fifty-seven, and at that point there were three other children under the age of ten still at home, plus two teenagers, one of them “feeble-minded” and needing significant care. [Anna Magdalena bore him thirteen children between 1723 and 1742, but seven of them had died in infancy or childhood. This is besides the seven children of Maria Barbara Bach, three of them still living by 1742.]

Throughout his life, Bach always did much more than was required or expected, in quantity but most especially in quality. Moreover, he continued to develop as a composer over his lifetime. If one compares some of his early preludes and fugues for the organ with the great contrapuntal works of his final years, one sees this clearly.

This Sunday, I must play the Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 547, “which, if not the finest of all Bach’s organ works, is certainly one of the most original.... Even among Bach’s organ fugues, it is difficult to find one that surpasses this [fugue] in contrapuntal resource, or one that is better ‘orchestrated’ for the instrument.” (Boyd, p. 61)

Next Sunday, the Day of Pentecost, I am to play the two settings of the chorale Komm, heiliger Geist (BWV 651-2) with which Bach began his final collection, generally called the “Eighteen Chorales.” Most of these were substantial expansions of works he had composed years ago at Weimar, and represent “[Bach] as a master of chorale settings on the grandest scale” (Boyd, p. 55).

This collection, like the Clavierübung, would make a magnificent organ programme, or (more likely) two or three programmes on successive evenings. One would begin with the exuberant organo pleno Fantasy on Komm, heiliger Geist, and the quiet and expansive second setting of the same tune, and finish at last with Vor deinen Thron tret’ ich (BWV 668). This would be a more manageable project than the Clavierübung, but still perhaps beyond my capacity.

Finally, Trinity Sunday brings the Prelude and Fugue in E flat from the Clavierübung, as mentioned above. Both the Prelude and the Fugue are thoroughly Trinitarian in their symbolism -- in a key signature of three flats, with three thematic groups, and many less obvious connections. If pressed to describe the doctrine of the Trinity, I would play this Fugue, perhaps with some explanatory comments.

And, as mentioned, I will play the three large settings of the Kyrie for the Evensong prelude.

Often, Bach wrote the superscription “J.J.” over the first page of his manuscripts -- “Jesu, juva.” It was a prayer not just for himself, I think, but for those of us who attempt to play his music. It cannot be done without the help of our Lord, and when one makes it to the end, the only response is his, likewise written into most of his scores: “S.D.G.” -- Soli Deo Gloria. These are my prayers as I undertake this work over the next few weeks.

Earth Day and frequent-flyer miles

Instead of a sermon this past Sunday, and in honor of Earth Day, our Rector read a “pastoral teaching” on the environment from the Episcopal House of Bishops. He is committed to environmental issues, for which I commend him. But he omitted the best part, which is the location from whence this was issued:

The Episcopal Church House of Bishops, meeting in Province IX, in Quito, Ecuador, issued the following Pastoral Teaching …

The mounting urgency of our environmental crisis challenges us at this time to confess "our self-indulgent appetites and ways," "our waste and pollution of God's creation," and "our lack of concern for those who come after us" … [my emphasis]
LINK

So the U.S. Bishops all flew to Ecuador in order to pontificate about our carbon footprint. Impressive!

The Episcopal Church seems to go out of its way to maximize travel. In 2008, I was invited to a Credo Conference as a participant in the church pension plan. The location was Louisiana, about a thousand miles from where I live and work. This was purposeful, as their materials indicated, in order to get me well away from my regular commitments. A hypothetical Credo participant from Louisiana would be shipped off to Virginia, or Minnesota. But despite misgivings, I accepted the invitation.

[An aside: one of my memories of the week is from my personal financial review with one of the conference faculty. He looked at our family portfolio (such as it is) and advised “You need to get rid of most of that cash. Put it in equities, or real estate. Buy a house. Don't just let all that money sit around in CDs.” This was at the beginning of September, about a fortnight before the Lehman collapse. I was glad that I did not rush home and take his advice. I hope also that he did not lose his shirt that fall.]

It bothers me that the Episcopal Church presents its political views as “pastoral teaching.” Like our Rector, I am committed to the environment. I suspect that we are well along the path toward its systemic collapse, and seek to do what is in my power to delay that event. But this document goes well beyond that: it “urges every Episcopalian” to actions such as “advocat[ing] for a climate treaty, and work[ing] toward climate justice.” Aside from sensing that the phrase “climate justice” is essentially meaningless, it is far from clear to me that these steps are the only Christian response. A more Christian response might include (for example) fewer frequent-flyer miles for our House of Bishops. And more pointedly, it might include quite a bit of inconvenience for me, and for all of us. I have met few Episcopalians who are ready for that.

Words

from The Philosophy of Tolkien [Peter J.Kreeft, Ignatius Press (2005)]:

“Words were important to Tolkien, not just instrumentally, through their power and effect on life, but metaphysically... Tolkien discovered that 'legends' depend on the language to which they belong... 'Greek mythology depends far more on the marvelous aesthetic of its language and so of its nomenclature of persons and places and less on its content than people realize' [Tolkien's Letters, no. 180, p. 231]...

“The words of much of The Lord of the Rings and all of The Silmarillion are vertical, and heavy, as Max Picard says of Hebrew: 'The architecture of the language was vertical. Each word sank down vertically, column-wise, into the sentence. In languages today we have lost the static quality of the ancient tongues. The sentence has become dynamic; every word and every sentence speeds on to the next... each word comes more from the preceding word than from silence...' [Max Picard, The World of Silence, pp. 44-45]

“Each word in the Silmarillion seems like a thunderbolt from Heaven, a miracle. There are many capital letters, in contrast with the fashion of our leveling, reductionistic age to trim, to decapitalize, to decapitate. And there are many nouns, both common and proper. It is the Anglo-Saxon style. The words are solid, like mountains; heavy and slow, like a glacier. The sense of height and weight of words suggests the sense of ontological height and weight, a verticality, a supernaturalism. The reader is lifted up out of himself..." (pp. 154-156)

This “static quality of the ancient tongues” corresponds with my still-minimal experience with Hebrew. The individual words are of utmost importance, “solid, like mountains.” Yet it is precisely in this solidity that the relations between the words become important. “The LORD is my Shepherd” -- in Hebrew, this is just two words: “LORD – my Shepherd.” And this simple juxtaposition is enough to carry one through the “valley of the shadow of death.”

In the beginning...

An imaginary Sermon: Matins for the Sunday of the Resurrection

Psalms 148, 149, 150
Exodus 12:1-14
St. John 1:1-18

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

In the Divine Liturgy, we are accustomed to hearing this on the First Sunday after Christmas Day. In that context, it is the Incarnation as considered from a distance of many years. The angels singing Gloria in excelsis Deo, the shepherds coming “with haste, and [finding] Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger” (St. Luke 2:16) – all this has come and gone, and St. John, now an old man, seeks to find words to write about the Word, the Logos. He knew the stories of the Incarnation from the most direct of sources: St. Mary the Virgin, who had treasured all these things in her heart and whom her Son had entrusted to him as a Mother. But now St. John knew that he must say more; he must find a way to tell us what it meant, and still means. By the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he tells us that “the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.”

That Incarnation, that being “made flesh and [dwelling] among us,” led by a straight path to the Cross. And this is why we hear the Prologue to the Gospel according to St. John on the morning of Easter Day. It is upon the Cross that we “beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” St. John here declares the theme that permeates his Gospel: this Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of Man, shows us who God is, and the message is most fully writ as he hangs upon the Cross:

... in the grace that rescued man
his brightest form of glory shines;
here, on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn
in precious blood and crimson lines.
(“Nature with open volume stands,” Hymn 434)

Thus it is that the corn of wheat falls to the ground, in order that it bear much fruit (12:24).

... as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. (3:14)

The corn of wheat falls to the ground and dies. But a new thing springs forth, for this “love is strong as death” (Song of Solomon 8:6). “In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” Not in any sense of the word: the powers of darkness had no comprehension of what, or Who, was before them. Nor could all the powers of Death encompass or overcome this Light:

... it was not possible that he should be holden of it. For David speaketh concerning him, I foresaw the Lord always before my face, for he is on my right hand, that I should not be moved: Therefore did my heart rejoice, and my tongue was glad; moreover also my flesh shall rest in hope: Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption (Acts 2:24-27).

Christ is the first-fruits of this new thing, the Blessing promised to Abraham, a Seed in whom all the nations of the earth are blessed (Genesis 22:18). We spoke of this in the Pascha nostrum (BCP p. 46) a few moments ago, quoting from St. Paul:

Christ is risen from the dead,
and become the first fruits of them that slept.
For since by man came death,
by man came also the resurrection of the dead.
For as in Adam all die,
even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
Alleluia.

“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me is love,” says Solomon (Song of Solomon 2:4). As soon as this Office of Matins is completed, the Holy Eucharist, the marriage supper of the Lamb, is at hand: “Come and dine,” he tells us (St. John 21:12). For “this month shall be unto you the beginning of months: it shall be the first month of the year unto you.” (Exodus 12:2) “This day shall be unto you for a memorial; and ye shall keep it a feast unto the LORD throughout your generations; ye shall keep it as an ordinance for ever.” (v. 14)

Praise him with the timbrel and dance:
praise him with stringed instruments and organs.
Praise him upon the loud cymbals:
praise him upon the high sounding cymbals.

Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD.
Praise ye the LORD.
(Psalm 150:4-6)

Crux fidelis, spes unica

[an imaginary Sermon, for the Good Friday Liturgy]

In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: Amen.

We call it "Good" Friday, and we venerate the Cross, that instrument of shameful death:

Faithful cross! above all other,
one and only noble tree!
None in foilage, none in blossom,
none in fruit thy peer may be:
sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
sweetest weight is hung on thee.
(Pange lingua - Hymn 166)

It is a contradiction. There was nothing beautiful about the cross. Even less was there anything beautiful about the brutal death inflicted upon its occupant.

Yet, we revere the cross. Many of us wear crosses around our neck, or hang a crucifix on our wall, or place one on our desk where we can see it as we work.

In the cross of Christ I glory,
tow'ring o'er the wrecks of time;
all the light of sacred story
gathers round its head sublime.
(Hymn 442)

We look not at the cross, but through it, as with an icon. In the cross, we see the Arm of the LORD made bare, God revealed in the fullness of His power and glory: "Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness; but unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God." (I Corinthians 1:23-24)

Here his whole Name appears complete;
nor wit can guess, nor reason prove
which of the letters best is writ,
the power, the wisdom, or the love.
("Nature with open volume stands" - Hymn 434)

The Liturgy for Good Friday [optionally] concludes as follows:

If desired, a wooden cross may now be brought into the church and placed in the sight of the people. Appropriate devotions may follow... (rubric at BCP p. 281)

What are "Appropriate devotions" for such as this? Words are inadequate. Silent contemplation is better. In the end, though, we find that we must sing. At our parish, we always sing the old Spiritual:

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
(Hymn 172)

And we always conclude, as the Prayerbook directs, with the great hymn of Fortunatus, the Pange Lingua, sung by Christians on this day for fourteen centuries:

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle:
of the mighty conflict sing;
tell the triumph of the victim,
to his cross thy tribute bring.
Jesus Christ, the world's Redeemer,
from that cross now reigns as King.
(Hymn 166)

Singing is good. It opens the soul to deeper meditation on the Passion, which is our only foundation, hope, and joy. But even music falls short, unless it is coupled with obedience and conversion of life, which is our "reasonable service"(Romans 12:1):

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an off'ring far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
("When I survey the wondrous cross" - Hymn 474)

On Good Friday, we join with Christians around the world and throughout time to ponder these things. We join also with angels, archangels, and "every creature which is in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea,and all that are in them" in the praise of him who died on that Tree. It will be our chief occupation and delight through all the ages of eternity:

Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power,and riches, and wisdom,and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. (Revelation 5:12-14)

Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. (Hebrews 13:20-21)