Some years ago I
worked in a church where one of the Sunday morning services used contemporary
music. I learned for contemporary music in an Episcopal church to work, we needed
to use the same criteria to evaluate contemporary music as we use for any other
music. These are the same questions we ask when we plan any worship service. Do
the words or text of the hymns follow and support the liturgy of the day and the
season of the church year? Does the music enhance and track with the other music
used that day?
So
back to that church a few years ago: as I came into the church that day the
contemporary music group was practicing. The text of the song was based on the
Magnificat, the incredible song of power and praise uttered by Mary that we just
heard in our Gospel reading, and that we also prayed as a psalm of praise
between the Old and New Testament readings. That day, as I checked the altar
book and did all the other things
a priest does before a worship service;
I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure why; I just knew I was
uncomfortable.
I had been
listening to the music with barely half an ear, and I stopped then, long enough
to really hear the words. It began to dawn on me what was wrong. The words to
this contemporary song were a paraphrase of the Magnificat. But what was making
me uncomfortable was something major was missing. The song was all about the
poor being raised up, and God’s strength and might, and the hungry being fed
with good things. There was nothing about God having mercy on those who fear
him. There was nothing about scattering the proud in their conceit. There was
nothing about casting down the mighty from their thrones. And absolutely
nothing about the rich being sent away empty. Instead of the Magnificat, it was
what you might call a “Magnifi-half-a-cat.” The part about those who have
everything now having to give up what
they have was completely missing
You might not think
that matters much; after all, it’s just a song. But I happen to think
everything we do or say or sing in our worship must express what we believe.
And it must reflect as well as we faltering humans can, a full and glorious
rendering of God, as we best understand God.
I don’t much like
the Magnificat when I look at it closely. I’ll bet if you look at it closely,
you won’t much like it either. Why? Because it’s just barely possible that you
and I are some of those rich that will be cast down. Most days I don’t feel
particularly rich. I suspect you don’t either. But let’s face it, you and I and
just about everyone sitting here is richer than at least 80% of the known
world. We have more. We earn more. We expect more. And maybe that’s what’s
wrong. We expect more.
Most of us are
constantly expecting more. Even as we grow older, and might begin to wonder
whether we really need all that stuff we’ve accumulated, we’re buying and
selling houses and cars and bewailing the state of the stock market. We might
do less for ourselves and spend less on our appearance to look younger, but instead
we’re smearing Rogaine on our domes and wrinkle cream under our eyes.
So I ask you, do
you want to give something up? And the answer for most of us is a resounding
no. We want to keep what we have and get more. We are afraid of losing anything
we’ve accumulated and we want to keep it with us in case we need it.
My friends in
Christ, I hate to break this to you, especially so close to Christmas, but the
Magnificat is a rude wakening. He has scattered the conceited and complacent.
He has cast down the mighty from their recliners. He has sent the rich away
with empty pockets and flat portfolios.
Is this good news
for us? Or is it only good news for the poor? What if we stood to gain by this?
What if loss turned out to be gain? What if what seems like deprivation turned
out to be wealth beyond our imagining?
Everyone I know who
has voluntarily down-sized and gotten rid of stuff has later said to me, “It
was so freeing. I didn’t realize how tied down I was by having to take care of
all that stuff.” I don’t by any means minimize the loss of jobs by people who
are barely getting by, or people who have lost everything in a fire, tornado,
or other disaster. But, what I have heard from people in that situation is
this. “We know what’s really important now. We know how little we can live on
and be happy. We didn’t need more. We needed God.”
And there it is.
The Magnificat is good news even for the rich. It’s good news even for those
who dread being cast down or think they will lose by giving something away.
Everything we give away will bless someone else. Rather than “more” being what
we can accumulate on our own, “more” will mean God’s unending abundance. Everything
we think of as loss, God will transform into gain. Then rich and poor, mighty
and lowly, will
join hands together in worship of the
Almighty and Everliving God from whom comes all that is worth having. AMEN.
The
Rev Nicolette Papanek
©2015
No comments:
Post a Comment