Sermon: "Communion: Something for Everyone"
by Dr. Michael B. Brown
In recognition of World Communion Sunday churches around the globe will be celebrating the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, just as we also will be. In honor of this liturgical day the Marble Festival of Voices will sing music in Zulu, Spanish, Russian, Shona and English, and you can listen to audio samples of the anthems as you read this blog. During the hymn Jesus Loves Me, the entire congregation will even be invited to sing in a foreign language of your choice! Choose from among eight transliterations printed on the bulletin insert, or sing this cherished Sunday School song in your native tongue. Or simply listen to the glorious cacophony of praise and adoration, remembering that there is something far deeper than language by which we are all united.
Something Lutheran
Chorale-Prelude: “Schmücke dich, O liebe Seele” (Deck Thyself, My Soul, with Gladness) by J. S. Bach (1685-1750) This well-known Lutheran Eucharistic hymn text was written by Johann Franck in 1649. Its deeply devotional poetry expresses the intimate relationship between the individual believer and Jesus the Savior. It is set to a German chorale composed by Johann Crüger (1598-1662). Bach must have adored this hymn because he created a sublime setting of it in this chorale-prelude. Robert Schumann revered Bach’s setting so much that he remarked to his friend Felix Mendelssohn, “If life were to deprive me of hope and faith this one chorale would restore it all.” Surrounding Crüger’s chorale melody Bach weaves two voices into a gentle duet of countermelody; Schumann referred to them as “garlands of gilded leaves” adorning the theme. As this prayerful music opens the prelude on Sunday you may wish to follow the English translation of this communion hymn as you prepare for worship; it is found as Hymn 536 in the pew hymnal.
Something South African
Jabula Jesu, Zulu Folk Song, arr. Stephen Hatfield (b. 1956). As members of our Gospel Choir witnessed firsthand a couple of years ago, people in South Africa sing in harmony as they work, in school, at home, at political rallies, weddings, funerals, celebrations, etc. South African “choral” music has empowered migrant workers, spawned political movements, and mobilized communities in the struggle against apartheid. Today, choral music is even being used to spread specific information about HIV, comfort those who are infected, and combat this deadly threat to the country. Now when people sing “the monster is killing us” they are referring to HIV rather than apartheid.
Stephen Hatfield hails from South Westminster, British Columbia, and is a composer, conductor, clinician and lecturer. While not purely authentic in the traditional sense, his arrangement of
Jabula Jesu nevertheless highlights the African style of layered ostinatos and polyrhythms, creating rich textures and rhythmic vitality.
[LISTEN] The text translates, “We say, be joyful with Jesus. (Sithi jabula Jesu) We say, have a good time. (Sithi thandaza) Listen! (Lalela)” What a great spirit with which to enter into celebratory worship – with joy, attentiveness, and even playfulness!
Something Spanish
Esto Les Digo by Kinley Lange (b. 1950) This sublime a cappella motet is a setting in Spanish of words from Matthew 18. The harmonies are lush and vibrant, and it is contemplative in nature.
[LISTEN] The music slowly builds to an emotional peak and comes to a pause on the text “mi Padre qe está en el cielo” (my Father who is in heaven). The following section begins with one lone voice singing “porque donde dos o tres” (because where two or three), which is then joined by a second voice, and finally the entire ensemble. It is a simple and beautiful way of portraying the message in sound: that where two or three are gathered together in God’s name, God is in the midst of them. (Matthew 18:20)
Kinley Lange is active as a composer and arranger within the traditions of worship, mysticism and meditation. He holds degrees from the University of Hawaii in music theory and composition with an emphasis in ethnomusicology. He continued graduate studies in choral conducting at the University of Texas at Austin. I’m impressed and inspired by Lange’s mission statement, which so succinctly and eloquently describes what choral singing is all about: “Making music with and for other people is the finest kind of community – an intimacy that makes us more than we are individually, connects us to each other in powerful ways and illuminates before us the path to feeling and passion.”
Something Russian
Mikhail Mikhailovich Ippolitov-Ivanov (1859-1935) graduated from St. Petersburg Conservatory where he was a student of Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov. His posts in Moscow included conductor of the Russian Choral Society, Musical Director of opera theaters, and Director of the Moscow Conservatory. His two largest choral works are a setting of the
All-Night Vigil (opus 43) and the
Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom (opus 37) from which our communion anthem,
Blagosloví, dushé moyá, Ghóspoda is taken. It is sung in Old Church Slavonic, the liturgical language of the Russian Orthodox Church.
[LISTEN]
The Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom is the most often celebrated liturgy in the Byzantine tradition, originating in 5th century Constantinople. It consists of three sections – the Liturgy of Preparation, the Liturgy of the Catechumens (aka Liturgy of the Word), and the Liturgy of the Faithful (which is the Sacrament of Holy Communion). The music is sung entirely without accompaniment. Blagosloví, dushé moyá, Ghóspoda is a setting of Psalm 102 (Bless the Lord, O My Soul), which is sung as one of the Antiphons during the Liturgy of the Word. Ippolitov-Ivanov’s setting is deeply reverent and solemn. To be truly transported one must imagine this music echoing around a cavernous Russian cathedral, replete with flickering candles that gently illuminate the brilliant iconography.
Something By Which to Remember
A year ago Marble had the unique privilege of hosting the brilliant singer, songwriter and pianist
Ken Medema in worship on World Communion Sunday. I have idolized this musical genius from afar for most of my adult life, and so it was truly an honor when Ken asked me to arrange his newly-composed song for our choir to sing on the occasion of his visit. And thus was born the anthem which the Festival of Voices will repeat as our offertory this Sunday,
In These Moments We Remember. [LISTEN] In between each verse of Ken’s graceful melody and poignant text I added an oboe playing excerpts from the 17
th-century chant,
Adoro Te Devote, which is often associated with the communion text of Thomas Aquinas, “Humbly I Adore Thee.” For the final verse I raised the key to A Major as Ken’s lyric expands to encompass a broader view of Communion, one which transcends both time and place:
With disciples down the ages we will share this holy feast,
And with them we see the vision of the day of rest and peace.
We will give our minds and bodies to the work that lies ahead,
And be nourished on the journey by this feast of wine and bread.
To me the Sacrament of Holy Communion is a bit of a theological minefield. Is it merely a symbolic act of remembering? Personally, I’d like it to be more. Does the bread and wine literally become Christ’s body and blood through transubstantiation, or is there some kind of mystical mix-master by which it is both regular bread and His body (consubstantiation)? For me that’s a bit of a stretch. I’ve always liked the Episcopal Eucharistic prayer where, praying over the bread and wine, the priest says, “Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit to be for your people the Body and Blood of your Son, the spiritual food and drink of new and unending life in him.” Rightly or wrongly I’ve interpreted that to mean that the spirit in which I receive the bread and the cup is a contributing factor in what they actually become. If in my heart I truly receive the elements as spiritual food for me, then so they shall be. I imagine that explanation is still woefully inaccurate, however.
The best answer to this theological morass has to be Barbara Brown Taylor’s simple observation, as recorded in her book, Bread of Angels:
If [Jesus] had said, “Take, understand,” no one could have done it, but He did not say that. He said, “Take, eat,” so they did, and from that moment on it was the main way they remembered Him.
Thus freed from the need to fully understand, deconstruct or explain communion I can simply receive, remembering that it was out of His love for me and for the whole world that Jesus did all of this, whatever that was exactly.