Sunday of the Transfiguration - Alleluia

March 2, 2014

 Sunday of the Transfiguration

By tradition, today is the last Sunday of the church year that we sing an Alleluia in greeting of the Gospel.  We will put the Alleluia to rest for the Sundays of Lent, as a sign of the penitential and solemn nature of the season. 

As a word, Alleluia is the Latin form of the Hebrew Hallelujah, which means “[let us] praise the Lord.”  In Jewish liturgy, the word is associated with Psalms 104 – 150, where it is often found as a congregational cry of joy, likely included to encourage the people’s participation in the recitation of the psalms.[1] 

In Christian use, the word signifies a cry of eternal praise and joy.  Augustine writes “it is in praising God that we shall rejoice forever in the life to come.”[2]  The eternal Alleluia has been described by some as a heavenly hymn of praise sung by the angels that never ceases; when we join the hymn in our worship, it is as if our earthly thread of song weaves momentarily into the eternal chorus.  The praise we sing is both a rejoicing in the presence of Christ in our midst now and an expectation of the great feast to come. 

Use of the Alleluia as a greeting of the Gospel can be traced to the third century.  Since then, the texts associated with the simple Alleluia have undergone many forms.  In the medieval period, the Alleluia formed the bookends to a recitation of a psalm between the reading of the Epistle and the Gospel.  At some point, the recitation was shortened to just one verse of the psalm.  This evolved into a pattern that we often follow at First Lutheran.  Many Sundays we will sing the Alleluia, followed by a “Proper” verse, with a repetition of the Alleluia closing the song.  The Proper verse, from the New Testament, relates directly to the Gospel text for the day.  In the historic Mass, the distinction between the Propers and the Ordinary texts refers to the texts that are always used at each celebration of the Mass as opposed to those that are “proper” to a specific day.  In the case of the Alleluia verse, it is case specific, or recited only for a specific day, hence its designation as a Proper. 

In the medieval period, Gregorian chant often extended the last syllable of Alleluia (the “ia”) with a lengthy series of musical notes known as a melisma.  This extension, called a “jubilus,” was meant to portray the extravagant joy felt by the presence of the Gospel.  (As an aside, “jubilus” refers to Jubal, the first musician recognized in the Old Testament – you may have heard of Jubal’s lyre.)

Next week – commentary on the resting of the Alleluia during Lent. 

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[1] Pfatteicher, Philip, Commentary on the Lutheran Book of Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1990), 139-140.

[2] Ibid.

Seventh Sunday after Epiphany: February 23 2014 You are Holy

Seventh Sunday after Epiphany

February 23, 2014

I promised this week a discussion of “music that praises God as Holy” in our worship.  My reason is the opening verse of the first reading we hear today.  The reading from Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18 contains the Holiness Code, which begins “Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them: You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy.”  The Code gives us reason to take action – to care for the poor and to enact justice for our neighbor – as a response to the holiness of God.

Each Sunday in our celebration of Holy Communion, we sing the quintessential hymn of praise to God who is Holy.  The Sanctus (Latin for “Holy”) begins with the thrice repeated “Holy, Holy, Holy” as if to over-emphasize the solemnity of the designation of “Holy Lord.”  The hymn continues:

Lord God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory.  Hosanna in the highest.  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.  Hosanna in the highest.  

This powerful language praising an awesome God has several scriptural sources.  The first part of the hymn references Isaiah 6:3, which scholar Philip Pfatteicher describes as “Isaiah’s breathtakingly majestic vision of the transcendent otherness of the All-Holy in confounding contrast to the mortality and impurity of humanity.”  Pfatteicher’s thicket of words might be more easily interpreted by referencing the great communion hymn “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” (ELW 490):

Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand; ponder nothing earthly minded, for with blessing in his hand, Christ our God to earth descending, comes full homage to demand.

Isaiah’s majestic vision was paraphrased by Martin Luther in the German vernacular hymn “Isaiah in a Vision Did of Old” (ELW 868).  This hymn, included in Luther’s German Mass of 1526, uses equally colorful and fantastic language to describe the encounter with the Holy one, ending with a phrase “and all the house was filled with billowing smoke,” a reference to the incense sanctifying the space.   

The Sanctus continues with a Hosanna and “Blessed is he” that comes from Psalm 118: 25 – 26.  

Per Harling’s “You Are Holy” (ELW 525) is an expression of God’s Holiness that doesn’t project the same sense of grandeur or remove as the hymns referenced above.  We sing this hymn as our sending hymn, and the sense of dance and celebration implied by the jazz influenced rhythm is perhaps appropriate as a demonstration of our joyful response to God’s holiness.  We are brought back down to earth, to the familiar, and sent out in response, to care for the poor and to enact justice.  The words of the hymn maintain some of the mystery of God, but we sing with a little more spring in our step!

Sixth Sunday after Epiphany

February 16, 2014

The two musical pieces we hear during the offering today are the basis for this week’s blog.  At the 8:15 service, the handbell choir will perform an arrangement of the joyful hymn In Thee Is Gladness.  Later, at the 10:30 service, the Sunday School children will sing Arise, Shine, for your Light has come, a simple song that states Isaiah 60:1.

We encounter the hymn In Thee Is Gladness twice during the early service.  The handbell arrangement emphasizes the ebullience of the hymn through the constant eighth note motion that rambles throughout the entire piece.  Later, the hymn itself (ELW 867) should make you get up and dance!  That’s because it has its musical origins in the light dance rhythms of a late Renaissance genre known as the balleto, or “little dance.”  An Italian, Giacomo Gastoldi, was the primary composer of this gracious style, which features repeated musical phrases, simple harmonies, and a lightness of rhythm that often included the singing of “fa la la’s.”  A contemporary German church musician, Johann Lindemann, adapted this balleto by adding the text of his own hymn, In dir is Freude.   What’s my point for revealing the dance origins of this great hymn?  That the character of the music and the text we sing to it are often remarkably well suited for each other.  The unabashed joy of the hymn text demands that we get up and dance in celebration! 

In thee is gladness, amid all sadness, Jesus, sunshine of my heart.  By thee are given, the gifts of heaven, thou the true redeemer art.

An interesting local connection with this hymn:  the arrangement found in the hymnal is by Jan Bender, 20^th century church musician extraordinaire, who taught at Gustavus for several years (and was well known to many at FLC, including David Fienen.)  I will endeavor to remain true to Bender’s harmony for at least the first stanza of the hymn!

This simple song Arise, Shine emerged out of a movement that calls itself Music That Makes Community.  The goal of this movement is to generate “paperless” music – that is music that can be learned by heart and sung together in worship.  One connection with our local context I’ve talked about with the Sunday School kids is the large blue and white banner that hangs in our nave during the season of Epiphany.  Of course, the text on the banner is the first phrase of the song.  Since this song is meant to encourage community, the kids will invite the congregation to sing along!

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Sunday, February 9, 2014

What’s a Kyrie?

Many Sundays, including this Sunday, we sing a “Kyrie” in worship.  What’s a Kyrie and why do we keep singing this odd word regularly?

The phrase Kyrie eleison is Greek, and translates as “Lord, have mercy.”  We also sing Christe eleison, which translates as “Christ, have mercy.”  A common pattern we often use is Kyrie/Christe/Kyrie; this three-fold repetition is symbolic of the Trinity, yet the whole gesture is directed toward Christ.

While the phrase “Lord, have mercy upon us” can be found in the Bible, the particular phrase Kyrie eleison has its origins in pre-Christian use.  In Asia Minor, it was an acclamation or gesture of praise and respect shouted at the passing of the emperor, an important ruler, landowner, or “lord.”  More a shout of respect than a penitential plea, the phrase does suggest subservience. 

In its earliest forms, Christian worship began with a silent entrance into the room by the bishop, deacon, or minister, followed by a short greeting and the reading of the scripture texts.  By the fifth century, some sources indicate that Christians had adopted the Kyrie into the liturgy for a couple of reasons.  One, the phrase, which carried the connotation of pagan sun worship, was being shouted by some Christians despite attempts to suppress it and church leaders adopted it and gave it some theological justification.  Its common use was as a response to a litany, or series of prayerful supplications.  Two, as worship in Rome became more grandiose, a need arose for an extended entrance procession rite that would allow the bishop to enter the large Basilica at the beginning of worship.  In this case, the Kyrie was repeated more times, with a nine-fold repetition common.  The extended rite was necessary, since with the growth of Christianity, the bishop of Rome was expected to visit and preside at a number of services within the city.  The procession from one Basilica to another became a grand spectacle.

Even as the language of worship in the west changed from Greek to Latin, the Greek phrase persisted.  In meaning, the phrase took on the character of a penitential plea for forgiveness.  The individual petitions of a litany, or prayer disappeared, and the simple three-fold repeated phrase remained.   

In the twentieth century, a renewed interest in liturgical studies yielded the development of another form of the Kyrie that we often encounter in our Sunday worship.  This form, which begins with the petition “In peace let us pray to the Lord,” followed by the response “Lord, have mercy” combines the Greek phrase with a Byzantine Litany of Peace. 

Even though the Kyrie is one of the parts of the Mass “Ordinary” – the historic form of Western liturgy – it is a part of our worship that can be used with some flexibility.  It may be omitted at times when an emphasis upon the celebratory nature of a season is desired, such as during Easter when the gathering rite usually includes the hymn of praise “This is the Feast.”  Or the traditional Kyrie may be replaced by another rite of supplication, such as the Great Litany, or a penitential hymn . 

The question of “why” remains.  Perhaps a simple answer is this:  at the beginning of our worship, this text directs our focus toward Christ, with the acclamation “Lord” and often the prayer for “peace.”  

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

Sunday, February 2, 2014


How does music 'color' our worship today?  I use the word 'color' as a way to recognize that music adds a new dimension to our experience, in a way that is symbolic or associative.   Almost all would agree that music has an emotive dimension - that is, that it is expressive of a feeling, or even manipulative in producing a feeling.  But music that is Gospel oriented, or carries the Word, is more than simply emotive.  And thus, I ask this question:  How does music 'color' our worship today?  Or how does music reveal something new about the Gospel we encounter in worship?

Olivier Messiaen is a great composer to consider when entertaining the notion of 'color.' In a literal way, it is helpful to know that he saw certain color patterns visually when hearing certain musical patterns.  In a more abstract way, he was very interested in how his music could be exegetical, or in other words, a vehicle for carrying and expressing a biblical message.  His composition Le Banquet celeste, composed in 1928, is prefaced by the text from John's Gospel "He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in Him" (John 6:56).  The music is a contemplative and quiet meditation on the mystery of the Eucharist, selected to highlight the celebration this morning with the second-grade children of First Communion. Listen how the slow-moving chords and the 'tear-drop' melody transport us to a place of calm and mystery.  The Word is being 'colored.'

Other hymns this morning emphasize the Eucharist theme.  In terms of 'color,' think about how the energy of the Welsh folk tune THE ASH GROVE combines with the compelling text of "Sent Forth by God's Blessing" (ELW 547).  The text emphasizes how the nourishment we receive in Holy Communion prepares us, and "incites us" to be sent forth from our worship to "work for your kingdom and answer your call."

Last note for the morning:  We continue to encounter some of the music from ELW Setting Six in our liturgy.  Today, I will play the "Lamb of God" setting on the piano, as a way to familiarize our gathering with this new music.  This setting presents an African American gospel style of music.  One of the characteristics about this style that I've learned is to not play too fast - think about how the tempo of the piece 'colors' your impression about the text.  My personal image is of a certain richness, or depth to the expression.

Third Sunday after Epiphany

January 26, 2014

A charismatic gospel singer once said “all God’s songs for all God’s children.”  She was encouraging the use of music from many cultures and places as a way to expand our own awareness of who we are as Christians in this multi-faceted world. 

You should notice a distinctly jazz or gospel feel in worship today.  The soulful “Kyrie” comes from Dinah Reindorf, a music educator who worked for many years in Ghana.  To my ears, the plaintive melody richly imbues the call “Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy; Lord, have mercy” with a keen sense of longing, or a cry coming from deep within the soul.  Historically, the Kyrie eleison does not connote begging before God, but is rather a gesture of submission or reverence before the One who merits awe.  How does the subtle rhythmic repetition in this setting establish a sense of plaintive reverence?

Mark Sedio subtitles his setting of “We Are Marching/Send me, Jesus” a “marriage of Africa and American Jazz.”  My question for you is:  In this Epiphany season of Christ made manifest (revealed), how does the sound of the jazz idiom cause you to hear and know Christ in a new way?  In other words, when you hear music that is perhaps not normal to our worship, do you find yourself contemplating the gospel from a different perspective?  

Second Sunday after Epiphany/Reconciling in Christ Sunday

Second Sunday after Epiphany/Reconciling in Christ Sunday

Sunday, January 19 2014

As part of our celebration of Reconciling in Christ Sunday at First Lutheran, our hymns today emphasize themes of welcome and justice.  The Gathering Hymn, We Are Called, invites us to "live in the light," an image appropriate for the season of Epiphany, and calls us to live in justice and unity as "brothers and sisters united in love."  Our Hymn of the Day, Love Divine, All Loves Excelling, expands upon the theme of love, focusing upon Jesus as pure compassion and unbounded love.  This hymn text is by Charles Wesley, who together with his brother John, originated the Methodist movement.  Charles wrote over 1000 hymns including Hark, the Herald Angels Sing and O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing.  The language and music of the first hymn comes from David Hass, a contemporary hymn writer and liturgist who lives in Eagan, Minnesota.  Hass is one of the primary leaders of the post-Vatican II musical movement in the Roman Catholic Church.

Today we continue to learn a new setting of the Sanctus, or the Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, in the Eucharist portion of the service.  The music is from Setting 6 in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, a setting rooted in the African American Gospel musical style.  One blessing of ELW is the invitation to embrace styles of music from other times and places; in the singing of this setting, we celebrate our unity with our brothers and sisters whose musical tradition (Gospel) is somewhat different than our Minnesota/Swedish tradition!

The Sanctus, a hymn of praise, is the conclusion of the Eucharistic Prayer and sings of the glory of God in the highest.  The two parts of the Sanctus reference two biblical texts.  The first part is from Isaiah 6:3 which describes a vision of God's throne surrounded by the seraphim, while the second part is from Matthew 21:9, which describes the Palm Sunday entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.

Both of the offering music selections today relate to the Gospel lesson, in which John the Baptist declares Jesus the Lamb of God.  Both the Bach organ work O Lamm Gottes, unschuldig and the choral setting by F. Melius Christiansen use the tune (and text in the case of the Christiansen) of Nikolas Decius, a 16th century hymn writer who was a colleague of Martin Luther in Wittenberg.