Reflections on Singing Brahms

by | Feb 7, 2024 | Family, Pastor Peter Wallace, Repentance, Worship

Dear Congregation,
On Saturday evening I had the opportunity to sing in the Brahms’ Requiem at Notre Dame with all seven of my children (and around 100 other singers!). (A link to the video is below)

Rehearsing and performing the Requiem has been good for my soul in several ways — one of which has been the constant meditation on the texts that we are singing. Let me walk you through the Requiem, if you are so inclined to go for this walk. I am trying to learn to express my emotions — and this is one way that I am able to do so.

1. Selig sind, die da Leid tragen…
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted (Matthew 5:4). The opening movement of the Requiem provides the overarching statement of the theme of the whole piece. Too often we think of blessing only in terms of the “good things” of life — but Jesus says “blessed are they that mourn.” What do you do when it hurts? You mourn. You lament. Lament is proper for those who are stricken by grief. And indeed, this is where I have been living for the last year.

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. They that go forth and weep, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing their sheaves with them (Psalm 126:5-6). Weeping lasts for a night, but joy comes in the morning (as Emorja Roberson’s opening gospel song reminds us!). There is a future for those who weep.

2. Denn alles Fleisch, es ist wie Gras
For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower thereof falls away (1 Peter 1:24). This theme is propounded four times in second movement — each time in unison. The effect is not exactly monotonous (Brahms is too good a composer to feel monotonous!) — but you start thinking, “you already said that!” The first two uses of the them are woven together with James 5:7 — Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold the husbandman waits for the precious fruit of the earth, and has long patience for it, until he receive the morning and evening rain. But then he comes back again (twice) to Denn alles Fleisch… and you start to realize that we are stuck in the middle of a never-ending story that always ends in death. The glory of man fades and withers.

Aber (but!)

But the word of the Lord endures forever (1 Peter 1:25). And what is the word of the Lord for “alles Fleisch”? And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away (Isaiah 35:10).  Notice the importance of the future tense. This is the promise. This is the word of the Lord that comes to those who mourn — to those who are presently living in the misery of this age.

3. Herr, lehre doche mich
The baritone soloist (the incomparable Emorja Roberson) sings the first person singular (with echoes from the chorus).
Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee. Surely every man walks in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heaps up riches, and knows not who shall gather them. And now, Lord, what do I wait for? My hope is in thee (Psalm 39:4-7). What is the point of life in this vale of tears? The final “Nun Herr, wes soll ich mich troesten” (now Lord, what do I wait for?) is a plaintive cry, bouncing from part to part with some of the largest leaps (intervals) in the whole piece mingled with lots of tight harmonies that express the dissonance of our experience of waiting — now Lord, what do I wait for?

Then the soloist sits down and the chorus takes over (as if the soloist is demonstrating the point — he knows not who shall gather them…):

My hope is in thee — an incredible series of triplets running against quarter/half note rhythms (I think that I finally got it [partly] right in the concert). But that glorious confession of hope leads to the promise:

The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God and there shall no torment touch them (Wisdom of Solomon 3:1). The Wisdom of Solomon is not in the canon of scripture — but the author was a faithful believer, and the sentiment here is exactly right! Even death is not the end. Here Brahms launches into a magnificent fugue where the parts keep swirling back and forth (the tenors have the privilege of opening the fugue Der Gerechten Seelen — the souls of the righteous). This is both the most difficult part of the whole Requiem, and the most amazing when you get to the point where you can actually hear what is going on! To be in the hand of God — where no torment can touch you — is characterized musically by a maelstrom of sound and ever-changing lines where it starts the same as last time — but goes a different direction, or lands a third higher (or lower). In other words, to be in the hand of God does not mean utter stillness and calm! The storm still rages! But you are in the hand of God. And so no torment (keine Qual) can touch you.

4. Wie Lieblich sind deine Wohnungen, Herr Zabaoth!
Here at the very center of the Requiem, Brahms placed Psalm 84:1,2,4 (You are welcome, Sally) — How lovely are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, yea, even faints for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh cries out for the living God. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they will always be praising thee. This is the heart of the Requiem. Where does your soul find rest? What do your heart and your flesh cry out for? Do you cry out for the living God?

And it is important to note that Brahms ends the movement back with verse one: “How lovely are your tabernacles!” This theme will remain central through the rest of the piece — with the theme of the heavenly city.

5. Ihr habt nun Traurigkeit
Anne Slovin, the soprano soloist, did a lovely job with this movement. And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you (John 16:22). Behold with your eyes, how that I have but little labor, and have gotten unto me much rest (Ecclesiasticus 51:27).

The chorus is largely in the background singing the refrain: As one whom his mother comforts, so will I comfort you (Isaiah 66:13). This is a lovely reminder that while my own mother died 18 years ago, the God of all comfort continues to comfort his people — and, as this is taken into the voice of the chorus — we, together, as citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem are the means of that comfort to one another.

6. Denn wir haben hie keine bleibende Statt
The chorus opens with the statement, For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come (Hebrews 13:14). And then the baritone soloist interjects, Behold, I show you a mystery: we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, [At this point the soloist sits down — he has introduced the text, but the chorus, who have been echoing his lines up until this point, will now announce the message] Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is thy sting? Hell, where is thy victory? (1 Corinthians 15:51-52, 54-55). Brahms has the singers almost throw their words at Death and Hell! And then, after a massive crescendo of shouting at the devil with all your voice, the altos lead forth with a new fugue:

Lord, you are worthy to receive glory and honor and power: for you have created all things, and for your pleasure they are and were created (Revelation 4:11). This fugue (mercifully) is slightly easier than the earlier one, though still with all sorts of twists and turns — because the glory and honor and power of God is no less beautiful and complex than being in the hand of God (#2). Indeed, there are some very similar features of these two fugues, which probably reflect the fact that being in the hand of God (#2) is exactly the same thing as proclaiming his worthiness!

7. Selig sind die Toten
Blessed are the dead, which die in the Lord, from henceforth. Yea, says the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them (Revelation 14:13). I suspect that we all sighed with relief when we got to this point — because while the seventh movement is just as beautiful as the text, as long as you remember the eighth note triplets for the “selig sind die Toten” in the middle, the rest is smooth sailing. Which is fitting. As long as you remember “blessed are the dead which die in the Lord” — the rest is “smooth sailing” (so long as you remember that “smooth sailing” is the same thing as “the obedience of faith” that Paul speaks of in Romans 1 — you still have to hit the right notes at the right time!).
Thirty years ago I sang the Brahms’ Requiem in college, and it instantly became my favorite choral piece that I ever sang — so when I had a chance to sing it with all of my children, I could not say no. But singing Brahms at the age of 53 is very different from the age of 21. Then it was powerful and beautiful. Now it is filled with so much more meaning and emotion. I have learned so much more of the truth of the words that I could only feel so much more deeply the power of the music to embody the words — which could only happen because a hundred and fifty people came together to join body and soul in the work of producing this.

It was a special privilege to be able to sing under the direction of Dr. Mark Doerries (who has taught all my children for so many years!) and to be able to sing a composition by Dr. Emorja Roberson (who also taught many of my children when he was a student at Notre Dame). I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity.

(If you want to read Dr. Doerries comments on the Requiem — he includes some reflections on his own encounter with cancer — Saturday was the two year anniversary of his surgery)
https://performingarts.nd.edu/meet-the-artist/brahms-mark-doerries/

If you would like to hear it, the Sacred Music Department at Notre Dame has posted the video.

(Fiona is on the left side in the soprano sections — then you’ll see Robert, William, and Peter in the bass section — I’m the bouncy tenor — then Bee, Lorna, and Geneva are with the altos).

If you want to see an English translation alongside the original German:
https://www.cpdl.org/wiki/index.php/Ein_deutsches_Requiem%2C_Op._45_(Johannes_Brahms)

Blessings,
Peter

On Revelation and Humility

by | Aug 18, 2020 | Women, Women's Ministry

By Elizabeth Sunshine

“By what right … do you say that you know God better than they do, that your God is better than theirs, that you have an access that I can’t claim to have, to knowing not just that there is a God, but that you know his mind. You put it modestly, but it is a fantastically arrogant claim that you make — an incredibly immodest claim.”

Christopher Hitchens

Today I started the theology class I’m teaching with this quote from the great theologian Christopher Hitchens (who would hate that I just called him a theologian). He said it in 2008 in a debate with a rabbi. I wanted to use it to wake up my college freshmen (the class is at 8 am) as well as to make a point: Hitchens is right, sort of. It really is incredible to claim to know the mind of the creator of the universe, and even more so to claim to actually have a relationship with him. By what right do religious people (Jewish, Christian or otherwise) make this claim?

I hope that my students felt the suspense, because Hitchens really does have a good point. If we claim that we know God’s mind because we are smarter, wiser, or more moral than others, we deserve to be called “fantastically arrogant.”

But perhaps my students didn’t feel suspense because they had the answer staring them in the face on the syllabus. The title of today’s class was “Revelation.”

You see, the reason why it’s not arrogant to claim to know about God, and even to know God, is that God is not like the laws of science.

Scientific laws are impersonal. They’re patterns that physical objects conform to that are out there waiting to be discovered. Gravity didn’t send a message to Isaac Newton explaining how it worked because gravity isn’t a person. God is. And that makes all the difference because a person can communicate. A person can make an effort to reach out and get to know someone. And if Christians are right, that’s exactly what God did.

God reached down to us, revealing himself to us. That is how we can know God, and it has nothing to do with our abilities or morality. It has everything to do with God’s choice. When a Christian claims to know God, it says more about God than it does about the Christian.

We’re going to spend most of the class talking about the content of God’s revelation. We’ll go through the Bible, starting in Genesis 1, and discuss what claims the text makes, and what those claims say about God. But I wanted my students to pause and reflect on what the mere fact of revelation says about God.

The first point is one we’ve already covered: God is a person, not a force. He can choose to speak. The fact that he did so choose says something else: God loves his creation and wants to be in relationship with it. And that relationship requires incredible humility on God’s part.

We don’t often think of God as being humble. Good, yes. Loving, yes. But not humble. Christians would (or at least should) affirm that humility is good, and we would also say that God is the source and the complete exemplar of all that is good. So it stands to reason that God would be humble. But it’s hard to think of him that way, perhaps because God is so great.

Think of it this way: consider something you know a lot about and care about deeply, whether it be your work, a hobby, or just a subject that interests you. Imagine trying to explain that thing to a three-year-old. Unless you’re a preschool teacher (or maybe unless the subject is trucks or dinosaurs), you’re going to have a hard time. The three-year-old is likely to be confused, and you’ll have to oversimplify a lot. The child may even going away thinking the subject is boring. You’re likely to end up frustrated and disappointed.

Explaining something you care about in terms the child can understand is an act of humility as you make your interest seem less than it really is in order to connect with someone. That’s what God does every time he reveals himself. God’s actual being is far beyond us, even more so than quantum physics is beyond a three-year-old. Our conceptions of him, grand as they may be, inevitably fall short of reality because we are finite and cannot grasp infinity. So God simplifies himself, presents himself to us in ways we can kind of understand, makes himself seem less than he is, just so he can be in relationship with us.

For Christians, the ultimate revelation is the person of Jesus, who is also the ultimate example of divine humility, of God appearing less than he is for the sake of humanity.

But this humility is also shown in God’s revealing himself to us in the text of the Bible. This humility comes to us when we do not at all deserve it. It is an act of grace.

The name of the class I’m teaching is Foundations of Theology. The phrase comes from Dei Verbum, one of the documents that came out of Vatican II, which calls Scripture and tradition the foundations of theology. But you could also say (and I think the writers of the document would agree) that the foundation of theology is God’s humble revelation of himself to finite humans. The foundation of theology is grace.

Elizabeth Sunshine is a Ph.D. student at the University of Notre Dame, where she is studying Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity. She grew up in Connecticut but now lives right on the border between Michigan and Indiana. After college, she worked in Taipei, Taiwan as an editor for Studio Classroom, an English-teaching magazine, where she also wrote scripts for TV shows, led summer camps, and taught an English Bible study. In her free time, she enjoys walking outside, reading fantasy novels, and knitting. She also blogs at Logos and Love.

Three Ways We Can Blossom Together

by | May 31, 2020 | Women, Women's Ministry

By Hayley Mullins

“Bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God.”
Colossians 1:10

That’s our goal as Christians, yes? We want the truth of the gospel that God has put into our hearts to grow up into something beautiful. We want to know Him more so we can look more and more like Jesus. We want His Word and His Spirit to change our hearts, so we can be more and more beautiful.

We want the beauty of our lives to point each other to the beauty of Jesus! But how?

Here are three ways we can point each other to Jesus:

 

1. In our suffering, we can comfort.

I’ve lost track of how many funerals I’ve been to. Between the ages of nine and eighteen, I went to the funerals of five of my grandparents and a great aunt. It was a difficult season for my family, to say the least.

In each situation, the pain was acute. I watched my parents weeping. I helped as I could by sorting through possessions and watching younger siblings during hospital visits. I grieved at holidays when we remembered that the person who held up a tradition was no longer with us. Each person who died, even the ones with whom we had rocky relationships, left an unfillable hole.

You have grief, too. We all do. But God can use that grief.

In high school, after many of the funerals, two of my best friends lost grandparents very suddenly. I happened to be reading 2 Corinthians at the time and ran across these verses:

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
2 Corinthians 1:3–4

I learned that all the losses had a purpose—so I could be there to comfort my friends. God has helped me as a young adult to continue doing that. He has given me comfort to give others. That’s His goodness! Suffering you experience is an opportunity to run to the Father and be comforted. And others’ suffering is an opportunity to share God’s comfort. Your suffering is a commission. Because you’ve suffered, you’re a messenger of hope and comfort to a world without hope and full of false comforts.

God comforts you; you comfort others.

Look around—there may be someone in our church or your neighborhood that would benefit from the comfort you experienced in your own suffering. Your suffering is not the end of the story. God is in the business of exchanging our sorrows for joy and making our suffering into a beautiful garden of His grace.

2. When we sin, we can confess.

One of my best purchases ever was a weighted blanket.

I bought it to help with my anxiety, and I keep it on my bed, where it does what it’s designed to do: provide a sense of safety and security in the evening hours.

Now imagine if I got so attached to that blanket that I carried it around everywhere. I’d probably lose a few pounds with the effort (it’s heavy!), but it would keep me from moving freely. Every step would be a burden. I’d stop doing some of my favorite things. Playing the piano is pretty impossible if you can’t raise your arms. Hugging my loved ones, cooking, and even getting a book off the shelf would become a burden.

Likely, I’d stop being as social, out of love for the blanket. People in my life would get pushed away because I’d be embarrassed by being continually wrapped up like a child and because I wouldn’t want to get worn out by the weight on me. And there are the consequences of having people close to me. Maybe someone would call me out about it. Maybe I’d have to give it up. Maybe I’d be made fun of. Nope. I’ll just stay in bed with this cozy blanket. It’s much safer.
Ridiculous, yes, but sometimes we are like this with our sin.

Here’s a hard truth: sin often makes us feel cozy.

We can believe that we’re safer holding onto it or hiding out with it than confessing to someone and admitting we need help!

Sin isn’t a weight that we’re meant to carry. We’re supposed to leave it at the cross. But sometimes, we need help to get to Him.

That’s why James told us to “confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16).

My blanket, as great as it is, isn’t a substitute for flesh and blood people. Sometimes a hug or a shoulder to cry on is better—especially if they point me to Jesus! A blanket can’t do that! In the same way, the false refuge of hiding in our sin keeps us from the joy of being really known and cared for and prayed for.

We wrap ourselves in shame and fear; the weight of our sin keeps us from others; we keep ourselves from the healing that comes from confession. We need each other when we’re struggling with sin, which is all the time.

Sometimes that means we have to be vulnerable and put down our blankets. We have to let God wrap us in His forgiveness and the prayers of others instead. That’s the way to help each other grow.

 

3. Through our service, we can teach.

We all have different roles in the Body. Some of us are greeters; some serve by cleaning the church or making meals. Some of us play the piano, and some of us simply talk and listen to people. But no matter your gifting, you’re a teacher. Pastor Peter and the elders and the Sunday school teachers aren’t the only ones who teach!

Rubbing shoulders with and doing life with other believers is a great way to teach. Think about it. Who have you learned the most from? Our pastor? Your grandma who taught you recipes and simply trusting Jesus? A mentor at work? A friend who simply showed you a new way to do something?

Teaching can be knowing Hebrew and Greek, but it’s also helping a young person navigate dating. It’s putting a hand on someone’s shoulder when they’re suffering. It’s showing up with a meal and a smile to a new mom. It’s whatever we do to help others know the word of Christ—and do it!

It’s like taking a bath. You can wash yourself with a sponge and get sort of clean, or you can jump in the tub and get completely wet. Ephesians 5:26 tells us that Christ cleans and sanctifies us “by the washing of water with the word.”

There are lots of ways to get wet with the Word, but we need more than just a “sponge bath” on Sunday—though preaching is important! We need to get soaked. This means taking personal time in the Word, but it also means spending time with other believers, watching how they love their neighbors, live with wisdom, and teach their families This is a crucial way to get drenched in the Word.

As Colossians 3:16 says, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.”

Whether older or younger, you have a role in teaching and learning. By simply living by faith, you are helping others become more and more like Jesus.

So how do we help each other become more beautiful in Jesus? We comfort in suffering, we confess our sins, and we teach as we serve.

A closing promise for you from Philippians 4:9: “Practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.”

This devotional was given at our 2020 ladies’ spring gathering. The content was adapted from Hayley Mullins and Erin Davis, Living Out the One Anothers of Scripture: A 30-Day Devotional (Niles, MI: Revive Our Hearts, 2020).

Reading Genesis 20-25 in Family Worship

by | Feb 10, 2017 | Family Worship, Genesis, Worship

Reading Genesis 20-25 in Family Worship

Genesis 20

Genesis 20 functions as something of an interlude. The story of Abraham and Abimelech sounds something like a repeat of the story of Abraham and Pharaoh. It is particularly striking because Sarah is now nearly 90 years old — at least, if the story is told chronologically. I suspect that the story happened earlier in their life, but we hear it now since Abimelech plays a central role here in the next couple chapters.

Here we learn that Sarah is indeed Abraham’s sister — so he did not lie when he said, “She is my sister” — although such a statement results in both Pharaoh and Abimelech being deceived. If you tell the truth in such a way that you intend for others to believe a lie (e.g., she is not married), then you practice deception. Abimelech rightly responds, “How have I sinned against you, that you have brought on me and my kingdom a great sin?”

And yet, Abraham’s reply reveals his fundamental concern: “There is no fear of God at all in this place, and they will kill me because of my wife.” While Genesis does not approve of all of Abraham’s actions, neither does Genesis condemn Abraham. Certainly the result of the encounter with Abimelech turns to great good for Abraham.

Song: Psalm 105

Genesis 21

The birth of Isaac is woven into the fabric of this story that includes Hagar and Abimelech. Abimelech has functioned as the latest in a series of threats to God’s promises. After all, if Sarah winds up in Abimelech’s court, then she will not bear the promised seed! And Hagar remains a potential threat as long as Ishmael, the firstborn son, stays around.

So at the weaning of Isaac, Sarah’s jealousy of Hagar and Ishmael reaches its climax: “Cast out this slave woman with her son…” And to our surprise, God agrees with Sarah. Ishmael may not inherit with Isaac — because the inheritance is nothing less than to be the holy seed through whom salvation will come to all the nations.

And chapter 21 concludes with Abraham’s treaty with Abimelech — a covenant of friendship. Abimelech recognizes that God is with Abraham — and so he wants to make sure that Abraham and his descendants will deal kindly with his descendants. (Note: while it refers to “the land of the Philistines” — the names Abimelech and Phicol are not Philistine names. The Philistines did not arrive in Canaan for another 4-5 centuries).

Song: PHSS 167 “The Holy City”

Genesis 22

Don’t even try to get inside Abraham’s head on this one. Soren Kierkegaard tried it in Fear and Trembling — and you cannot begin to make sense of Abraham’s experience of this (or Isaac’s!). Hebrews 11 says about all we can say, “He considered that God was able even to raise the dead, from which, figuratively speaking, he did receive him back.” Instead, focus on what God tells us in this story. The offering of Isaac happens at the same location where Solomon will later build the temple. God teaches us through this story the necessity of the sacrifice of the firstborn son in order to redeem humanity (a theme that will get played out in more detail in Exodus).

Song: Psalm 127

Genesis 23

This is one of my favorite chapters. Watch the negotiating as Abraham maneuvers Ephron into selling him a piece of land that Ephron does not wish to part with. Of course, Ephron charges him a princely sum, but Abraham is willing to pay anything in order to have a burial plot that he may call his own. When Ephron offers the field as a “gift” he is actually trying to keep the land within his own inheritance. “Gifted” lands were not permanently alienated — only the “use” was given away. That’s why Ephron inflates the price to an astronomical rate. He appears quite upset that Abraham has put him in such an awkward position that he can only ‘save face’ by making Abraham pay in silver.

Why does Abraham want to have a burial plot? Because he does not wish to mingle the bones of God’s people with the bones of those who are under God’s wrath and curse. The same hope of the resurrection that we saw in chapter 22 emerges as well here in chapter 23.

PHSS 166

Genesis 24

The story of Abraham’s servant provides a fascinating glimpse into ancient customs. “Put your hand under my thigh” — is a way of swearing an oath by the “seed.” The servant tells the story that we already know (repetition tells us how important the story is). The marriage is contracted in the home of her family — but also requires Rebekah’s consent: “Will you go with this man?” So by the time she meets Isaac, she is already his wife.

“And Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening. And he lifted up his eyes and saw, and behold, there were camels coming.” Camels were only domesticated in Canaan much later (around the 10th century), so some think that Abraham’s servant could not have brought 10 camels with him. But then again, Abraham is from Babylon (where camels appear in lists of domestic animals from ca. 1800 B.C.) and had sojourned in Egypt (where camels had been domesticated since 2200 B.C.). So it would appear that Abraham brought a handful of camels with him to Canaan — which would have made him look like a wealthy and influential foreigner (exactly how the book of Genesis portrays him…). The only camels in Canaan are approaching.

Song: Psalm 98

Genesis 25:1-18

Even though Abraham was old, he apparently had sufficient vigor to marry again and father six sons with Keturah. Midian is the most important for future purposes (Moses will marry a Midianite woman).

Also notice that when Abraham dies, Ishmael comes and joins Isaac in burying their father. Ishmael is not in the promised line — but he is never portrayed as hostile to the promises (unlike Esau — as we’ll see next week). Nonetheless, the Ishmaelites will often array themselves against Israel.

Song: Psalm 83

You Are What You Love — Liturgy and Habit

by | Nov 4, 2016 | Family, Pastoral Notes, Pastoral Practice, Worship

You Are What You Love — Liturgy and Habit

“The mall is a religious site, not because it is theological but because it is liturgical. Its spiritual significance (and threat) isn’t found in its ‘ideas’ or its ‘messages’ but in its rituals. The mall doesn’t care what you think, but it is very much interested in what you love. Victoria’s secret is that she’s actually after your heart.” (p41)

With this in mind, James K. A. Smith launches into a liturgical reading of the shopping mall — rightly seeing the architecture of the mall as an echo of the Gothic cathedral. He notes that “here one finds an array of three-dimensional icons adorned in garb that — as with all iconography — inspires our desire to be imitators of these exemplars. These statues and icons (mannequins) embody for us concrete images of the good life. These are the ideals of perfection to which we will learn to aspire.” (p43)

“This temple — like countless others now emerging around the world — offers a rich, embodied visual mode of evangelism that attracts us. This is a gospel whose power is beauty, which speaks to our deepest desires. It compels us to come, not through dire moralisms, but rather with a winsome invitation to share in this envisioned good life.” (p43)

We then enter “one of the chapels” and are “greeted by a welcoming acolyte” and we make our way through its labyrinths, “open to surprise, to that moment where the spirit leads us to an experience we couldn’t have anticipated.” (p43) Having found the holy object, “we proceed to the altar that is the consummation of worship” where the priest of this “religion of transaction” transforms our plastic card into the object of our desire, and we leave “with newly minted relics, as it were, which are themselves the means to the good life.” (p45)

The Notre Dame lunch group has been reading and discussing James K. A. Smith’s You Are What You Love — a thought-provoking essay on “the spiritual power of habit.” The chapter for this week “Guard Your Heart: the Liturgies of Home” reminds us that the patterns and practices that shape our hearts will also shape the rhythms of our life (or is it the other way around?!).

Smith shows us how the basic patterns and rhythms of worship (historic Christian liturgy — like what we do at MCPC) should form and shape the patterns and rhythms of life. “Embedded in the church’s worship are important pictures of what flourishing homes and families look like.” (p114)

The Problem of Compartmentalization

In the modern world we have compartmentalized life into “family,” “church,” “work,” and “play.” When we compartmentalize our lives, then you hear me saying this: The pastor wants me to spend more time doing “church” things. And while I do encourage families to read the Bible, pray together, sing together, memorize the catechism together — these things only scratch the surface of what I mean.

When the worship of God becomes the pattern for our lives, we realize that in our baptism, we have been united to a new family in Jesus. My “family” is redefined in Jesus. Our society — like many before it — has idolized the family and turned it into an ultimate end (ironic, because our society is destroying the family — but that in itself should prove the point: idolatry always destroys the very thing that it seeks!).

Likewise, our work — not just the thing we get paid to do, but the labor that characterizes our creational callings during the “six-days shalt thou labor and do all thy work” — that work is redefined in Jesus. How should I think about my six-days labor? Well, what we do every Sunday in our liturgy reminds us of our true identity in Christ. Christian liturgy is designed to draw us back into the story of what God is doing in history. (As I said it last Sunday, our problem is when we think that the story is about us — when in fact, the story is about Jesus!) Only when we see that the story is about Jesus do we see where we fit into his story.

What God has done in Jesus is not just “save our souls.” He saves us body and soul — he feeds us, body and soul — unto everlasting life. Therefore, since we participate in this grand and glorious story, we can take a long-term perspective and realize that God brings change through the power of his Holy Spirit working in his church, bringing renewal and regeneration throughout all the earth.

Re-Forming Daily Habits

So how can we re-form our daily practices — our routines and rhythms of life — in ways that conform to the heavenly liturgy? Here are a couple suggestions: 1) If the church of Jesus Christ is our new family, then look for ways to connect what you are doing during the week with others in the body of Christ Do you go shopping? Develop a pattern of shopping together with others who share a common desire to conform their shopping practices to the Word of God. Do you watch college football? Invite others to watch with you who will help you avoid the dangers of modern sports idolatries. In short, if we are seeking one thing — if we are seeking to know and love and see the living and true God — then we should look for ways to connect everything that we are doing to that one thing.