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May 2001 Sermons
May 20, 2001 SermonRev. Nancy D. DeanMay 20, 2001Lead Me Home: Music and SpiritualityWhat a wonderful coup to have the Alpha Singers gospel group once again join us, especially on this most important of days when we of this congregation are making one of the most significant decisions of our eleven year history. Our hearts rise in the joy of praise for the Spirit that lives in us and works through us as they sing the songs of praise that have been lifting the hearts of women, men and children for many generations. All of us know, if we take the time to think about it, that music is the expression, sometimes literally the voice, of the human heart. Musicologists, those scholars of music, tell us that there has always been music; since humans have uttered sound, there has been music. Music, not surprisingly, touches every spot on the earth; there are no peoples anywhere on this planet who do not have music. Music, that like the very people is varied, diverse, yet another proof for us that God must love diversity for it is around us on every side, in every aspect of nature, and in every thing except where evil of humankind tries to prevent it. Music that children make, music that shakes the very walls that our teenagers love, music that you and I make in all the ways we can. Even people who say they can’t carry note in a bucket listen to music, appreciate music, and most likely in the days before self-criticism and the criticism of others made them turn away from it, made music with unconscious humming and rhythms that children seem to carry with them as they learn and grow. Back in the Seventies when I was still teaching first graders, it was a joy to my ears, a sign that all was well, to hear the quiet humming of children happily lost in a task. Some more than others, but a daily occurrence, an urge that would rise up unbidden in these small ones that showed clearly that they were content, happy in the moment. As the poem from this morning’s reading, by Frances Watkins Harper, states, our world "needs music," else why would it pervade every aspect of culture, every aspect of human life, and be the expression of every human emotion. We need music, for it calls us home. Home to that which we need more than all the world’s riches; that which is more powerful that all weapons and warriors and governments; back to our souls, that spirit of life and love that lives in us and works through us in the world. I first knew the power of music in my own childhood. My mother, deeply religious, evangelical, sang hymns around the house as she worked. "Whispering Hope," was my favorite: "Soft as the voice of an angel, singing a lesson unheard, hope with a gentle persuasion, whispers her comforting word." It also, was one of the first pieces I learned on my accordion, the favorite instrument for children in my rural Idaho area—cheaper than a piano, less grating than the violin in a beginner’s hands. My mother may have lost her fondness for "Whispering Hope," after listening to it daily for six months. Music is like food, for there is something for every palate. Music is used like food, as well, to nourish, to create good health, to invigorate, to soothe, to marshal all our emotions. It is no accident that every nation has a national anthem that can rouse its people to patriotic fervor. Remember the people gathered in Rick’s Bar in the classic movie Casablanca, when the Nazis have come in and begun singing "Uber Alles," and the mostly French crowd stand up and sing the "Marseilles"; it is the most powerful part in the movie. It was meant to be. And, I confess, that I have been brought to tears by our own national anthem on occasion. We all are taught the story in our American History classes, of how Frances Scott Key, Sept. 14, 1814, was inspired by the sight of the U.S. flag at Fort McHenry that he saw still standing after a nightlong bombardment from an offshore British warship. Key, on the deck of a ship looking off to the battle and pens the famous words: "Oh, say can you see, by the dawn’s early light, what so proudly we hail, at the twilight’s last gleaming. And, the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air . . . ." and so on. Though, it did take some time before it became the National Anthem, and still not appreciated by every one, for the tune is hard to carry. There’s an old story that tells of three young soldiers of the First World War who were invited to the general’s house for tea, and were shown to the lavatory to wash up. The general was a fan of gadgets and had a device attached to the stopper chain that played music when the plug was put in the sink. The first young man came out and glowingly reported to the other two that he heard Beethoven as he washed his hands. The second came out reporting his pleasure at the "Dixieland Rag," the third, Corporal Smith, was last, and after some minutes had still not yet come out. Worried about keeping the General waiting, other two knock on the door, then seeing water coming from beneath opens the door and there is Corporal Smith mopping up water on the floor. (Keep in mind what a soldier will do.) "What happened?" his companions asked. "Just my luck," said the Corporal, " I got the Star-Spangled Banner." The 17th Century poet William Congreve wrote "Music has charms to soothe a savage breast,/To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak" (Although, about half those who quote him say, "savage beast,"), Congreve was talking about the human heart. For of all music’s great ability to lift our spirits, patriotically, religiously, or more often romantically, music also can be the "balm of Gilead," the soothing ointment for the soul, that is what is most poignantly stated in the hymn we will sing today, #199, "Precious Lord, Take My Hand." Now music always tells a story, even when it is purely symphonic, with no libretto, no words. We can always tell something about the mood or intent of the writer of both the lyrics and the composer of the tune itself. Anger, frustration, fury, gladness, joy, exhilaration, the conquering spirit, mania, depression, silliness, and every possible human emotional expression. And no matter how much we dislike some forms of music, they would not exist if they did not meet some people’s need. There is very little Rap music that I can abide, but it clearly speaks to a whole generation of young people. And virtually every generation is marked by its own music, with the older generation predictably decrying the decay of the youth. Mozart was thought lascivious by the older generation, as Elvis was to the parents of the 1950’s youth, and the Beatles and Rolling Stones were to my generation’s parents. The purpose of music is to express our needs, our longings, our hopes and dream, our joys and sorrows. Gospel music, which most in this congregation and millions of people in this country enjoy, was not initially accepted by most religious groups. Dr. Thomas A. Dorsey, the great gospel composer of such standards "There Will Be Peace in the Valley", and considered by many gospel devotees to be the "Father of Gospel Music." was the son of a minister. Dorsey was a consummate musician and as a young man accompanied some of the most famous blues singers of all time-specifically, Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey. He eventually turned his heart and mind to religious music, but his penchant for bouncy tunes did not sit well with the National Baptist Convention. As one source on the history of gospel music states:
Yet, today, many of his songs are classics, standards in churches across the land. Dorsey’s music became so popular, for it spoke so clearly to people, that noted singers, Mahalia Jackson, Red Foley, and Elvis Presley all had gold records with their renditions of "Peace in the Valley," "and Precious Lord." All music has a story, too, but we usually do not know it, but when we do know the story, like the story of Frances Scott Key, the song seems more real, more meaningful. When I first heard the story of Dorsey’s song "Precious Lord," I cried, for having grown up singing that song often in church, and giving it my own meaning, I was even more deeply moved to hear the writer’s meaning. When later we turn to it in our hymnals (#199), the words will have a much deeper meaning, for what you will know about that great hymn. Back in 1931, when a young Thomas Dorsey was traveling, playing and writing music, and had been away from home sometime when he got word that his wife had died giving birth to their son, and then to add cruelty to cruelty, that his son had died a day later. Out of his grief and anguish, he did what most naturally he was called to do, and sat down and wrote the words of the song, all in one sitting, which has been sung millions of times over since that time seventy years ago. The song is the appeal of the aching heart, what we all say in our own ways when we have nothing more we can do, when we surrender and in our helplessness will pray, even if we think there is nothing or no one to pray to, we all will pray. Pray to be released from the false notions that we control anything, that we can make anything happen. The words will vary in our pleas, but our pleas rise up nonetheless. Our spirits’ cry for help, and we come closer to our humanness than at any other time: "hear my cry, hold my hand lest I fall, take my hand,/lead me home." Home to that place where there is no agony of loss, where there is no pain. None of us can sing the words to this or any song when we know the pain or the joy without feeling it for ourselves. That is the beauty, the lesson of why music has always been so important to humankind; why it always will be so long as there are people on this earth. Home means for us of this congregation all that it meant for Thomas Dorsey and something immediate as well, but home for all the reasons that music is at home in our hearts. We always need to keep working, to keep learning how to grow in our spirits, for what is life but the life that is the spirits. The body houses the life. We, in desire to grow in mind and spirit, need to house the physical bodies, and we need that sanctuary, but we do so to nurture the real life that is our spirits. There is still much we have to do, and I hope, wish, and, yes, pray that we will find a way to make a place here, a home, for the work of the heart’s greatest longing. Blessed be, and amen. |
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