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Two quick notes: 1. Tim Keller’s excellent sermon on the deity of Jesus Christ, I Am He, is available for free (apparently permanently) at The Gospel Coalition website (linked in sidebar). Many other sermons there as well. 2. Two of the guys from Religious Affections, Scott Aniol and Michael Riley, have put together a great Good Friday liturgy for personal, family, or corporate worship and reflection. Find it at the end of this bulletin. Isaac Watts is the author of two of the most widely known hymns of the cross. Since my favorite, “Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed,” was the subject of a very good article by Ryan Martin at Religious Affections, I will be content to encourage you to read that there. The other, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” often falls prey, I fear, to the obscurity in plain sight those things which seem overly familiar to us tend to suffer. If you were slightly disappointed upon seeing the title of this post…well, case in point. But poems that are widely known are often so known because they simply are so good. I think you’ll agree that any text about which Charles Wesley allegedly said he’d rather have written it than all his own hymns likely bears up under re-examination. Additionally, this hymn illustrates a very good reason to be cautious when omitting stanzas from a song (or tacking on additional stanzas or choruses, for that matter). Note here how an idea or image from the last line of each stanza is echoed or used as a point of departure in the first line of the next; for instance, “…all my pride” in stanza one is followed by “Forbid…that I should boast” in the second, and so on.
I think the Catholic notions of perfect and imperfect contrition can be very helpful to us Protestants, even though we would reject such aspects of those notions as touch on the nature of grace and justification, etc. But the basic definitions do clarify for us the nature of true repentance. Imperfect contrition is a sense of guilt and regret based on a fear of the negative consequences, both temporal and eternal, our sin may entail. Perfect contrition flows from a recognition of who God is and how we have offended His great goodness. This is the essence of Isaiah’s “woe is me” moment. Not, Oh no, I’m going to hell and I don’t want that! Rather, Oh no, I’ve lost God and nothing else is worth wanting! Hear the difference? Similarly, this doctrine gives us a perspective on properly loving God. Do we love Him because we think He’ll do good things for us? Or do we love Him because there is none other like Him, He is God, and He loves us despite ourselves? Having begun to understand these things, we begin, I think, to realize how even our own salvation is not about us, but, ultimately, Him. “My God, I Love Thee,” which our church choir first sang a couple years ago now (this version, available here–although there are probably hymnals that contain various versions), was one of the influences that helped me see from this perspective more clearly. Not surprisingly, it seems to have a Catholic pedigree. While the original author is, I believe, unknown, it was translated from the Latin by Edward Caswall (who happens to have written a great Christmas hymn as well) some time prior to 1849. Please take time to consider it.
Richard Wilbur, who turned 90 this year, has published 11 collections of poetry, 10 plays (translating three more from other languages) as well as various prose and critical pieces. Among his various recognitions are two Pulitzers, and two appointments to the post of Poet Laureate of the United States. He is, perhaps, our greatest living poet. He has also written at least one hymn. Having recently returned the volume in which it appears to the library, I’m going by memory on the details (which were scant anyway). In the late 1950s, Wilbur received a commission or request for a Christmas hymn text to be included in some function of the Anglican Church (or maybe Episcopal). I imagine the piece was set and then used in that service or program. Later, the hymn was included in an edition of a hymnal. Other than that and a choral setting I found online, this excellent text seems to have received little attention. It is with great delight I present it here. Yes, a Christmas hymn for passion week.
I was reminded this week, by a combination of teaching the 4-6th grade boys Sunday School class (re: the prayer in the garden and betrayal of Jesus) and the presentation of our church’s Passion Week music and scripture program, that some of my favorite hymns are closely tied to Passion Week events and themes. I know my readership is eclectic–most people come here to look at pictures of salamanders–but I beg your indulgence for the next several days. I hope any who stumble upon these posts will find a fraction of the meaning I treasure in these dear poems. And don’t worry, I’ll continue this into next week, focusing on what Christ’s atoning work and resurrection secured for those who believe. To start this series, I felt it would be appropriate to begin with a celebratory anthem I first encountered while singing in my college choir (thanks, Dr. Ledge!). This week, I ask you to join me in lifting high the cross.
My wife, Angela, and I were awakened this morning, courtesy of our alarm-clock-radio, to the urgent, breaking news that Jennifer Lopez had just been named People Magazine’s Most Beautiful Woman in the World, 2011. I think Angie responded “Oh, brother,” just as I muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me”. No, it’s not that our candidate didn’t win, and Ms. Lopez is probably as pleasant looking as all the money she spends on exclusive gym memberships, makeup, hair coiffure, and designer clothes can make her. Our objection was to a couple different notions. First of all, I wonder how much time People spent in places like Yap, Mozambique, or Iceland seeking their pageant winner. I probably wouldn’t be surprised by the answer—“in the World,” indeed! Were I, however, to peruse the list of past winners for this prize, I’ll bet I’d be shocked to see how many of the annually recognized Most Beautiful Women in the World lived or worked within a 100 mile radius of Los Angeles, California. Or how many of them are white—the (I suspect) few winners named from other ethnic groups can probably (like this year’s winner) sing and dance, or are otherwise entertaining. [Insert comment about racist imperialism here.] Which brings me to the annually recognized part. I wonder how People makes its determination. Is someone manning the beauty-O-meter® all year long in order to provide up to the minute standings? And what if I want to know (I don’t) who the most beautiful woman in the world is this very minute? People, apparently, is not equipped to make that judgment. Furthermore, I suspect I’d be amazed at how few repeat winners there are, if any. Sorry ladies, especially you teens, but our culture wants you to hear as often as possible that a major component of your value in its eyes is both fiercely competitive and fleeting. But enough of the sarcasm; I am truly saddened. As the father of a daughter, I’m saddened by the pressure she’ll face from our society to cheapen herself to the status of eye candy in order to gain approval. I am saddened by the fact that fewer and fewer voices seem willing to insist that “charm is deceitful, beauty is vain, but a woman that fears the Lord, she shall be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30, NASB) And I’m jealous. As the husband of a wife, I am just a tiny bit jealous that on a Saturday afternoon when my wife has pulled her hair back into a pony tail, donned the “frumperdoos,” and gone out to trim the hedges around our house, People Magazine has never stopped by our quiet neighborhood in Northwest Ohio to recognize a truly beautiful woman. I don’t know why anyone would ever make a big announcement about his lofty goals on the internet. Ever, I say! I’m three for nine this month. I doubt I’ll catch (or even keep) up. Sigh. Some advice from John Haines is (coldly) comforting.
My poem, “Muse, Incognito,” originally published in Eclectica, debuts today at Whale Sound. Whale Sound is a neat project that seeks to nudge poetry back towards the vein of oral performance, in which, of course, it had its origins. Nic Sebastian, proprietor of Whale Sound, presents a great reading of my poem. I know you’ll enjoy her take on it and the other poems she reads there. Please stop over and check it out. As many of you know, my first date with the lovely Angela was on or about February 12th, 1993, back when I was convinced I’d never be a poet. These days, however, my poetic spirit re-invigorated, I try to write her one every Valentine’s Day and for her birthday. Since I’ve been intrigued with form lately, especially those requiring repetition of certain lines, I thought I’d try a triolet. Eventually I hope to work up to a Pantoum, but, baby steps. If you actually pick up on the requirements of the form, you’ll see I cheated a tiny bit on the last line. Take that, Robert Bridges! Anyway, hope you enjoy.
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