This weekend
my husband and I will join as members of the church where we've been
attending (and myself serving on staff as organist). As I reflected on joining this church, it reminded me of the oft-quoted line from John Donne's essay,
"No man
is an island." One could join all kinds of groups, (social, sports, special
interest, etc.) but to me, the loveliest group to be a part of is a local congregation of Christ's church. Donne's essay below explains why this is so, while he highlights the transiency and beauty of life, and insists it all finds its ultimate meaning in a relationship with God.
No man is an
island entire of itself;
every man is
a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as any manner of thy friends
or of thine own were;
any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee.
This poetic excerpt is taken from this essay ...
MEDITATION XVII
Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
John Donne
Bell at Muhlenberg Lutheran, Harrisonburg VA
PERCHANCE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another.
As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God.
Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.
Resurrection Lutheran, Cary, NC
Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it.
No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
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| Edenton Street UMC, Raleigh, NC |
The three photos are of church buildings where I have had the privilege to serve among God's people during my career in church music ministry.
The bell at Muhlenberg was from the original church building. It was stored at a member's home for many years, and during the building of a new Gathering Area, was installed in the atrium. We rang it as a call to worship (1 time on regular Sundays, 3 times on Festival Days), and at funerals it was tolled seven times.
Once when we sang the hymn, Built on a Rock the Church Doth Stand, Mark Byerly rang the bell in joyful tolls throughout the last stanza. I remember with a chill sitting at the organ bench, the powerful singing and the deep fellowship that transpired between people in the pews, chancel, choir loft, and heaven during that singing. The first and last stanza are:
Built on the Rock the church doth stand,
Even when steeples are falling;
Crumbled have spires in every land,
Bells still are chiming and calling;
Calling the young and old to rest,
But above all the soul distressed,
Longing for rest everlasting.
Grant then, O God, wherever men roam,
That, when the church bells are ringing,
Many in saving faith may come
Where Christ His message is bringing:
“I know Mine own, Mine own know Me;
Ye, not the world, My face shall see.
My peace I leave with you.”
~ ~ ~ MUSIC LINKS
No Man Is an Island - Text by John Donne in a setting for chamber cantata by Ukranian composer Victoria Poleva. What a rich, warm, haunting voice the soloist has! The text is given below the video.
Built on a Rock the Church Doth Stand - chorale, and here for organ alone
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