Loveliness All Around

Some people just exude loveliness. I've been so blessed to know many people like that in my lifetime. How about you?

A little over twelve years ago, I met Vicki when I was auditioning for a Music Director opening at her church. She was so well spoken, kind, and enthusiastic . . . lovely in every way. I later found out she was a Communications professor at NCSU. She was the one who introduced me to the regular and good use of the word “lovely.”

“That would be lovely.”

“It’s lovely how … “

And so on. Her view of the world included so much loveliness and she communicated that to others by her choice of words, including generous sprinkling of the word “lovely” in her one-on-one encounters with friends. 

The longing for loveliness lies in the heart of all people. Sometimes it is buried, obscured, neglected, or overshadowed, but it is still there. Can just using that word bring out its depths, clothe it in light?

Julie Andrews in MY FAIR LADY

In the musical “My Fair Lady,” Eliza Doolittle imagines what it would be like to live a comfortable, proper life in the song, “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?” The irony of the song is the juxtaposition of things and circumstances she suspects are lovely with her Cockney mispronunciation of “loverly.”

Lovely = love + ly (like) = love-like or having the characteristic of love.

Loveliness = love + ly  + ness (the state/quality/measure of the word it modifies) = being full of love.

Loveliness -- rooted in love. A close friend to beauty and all that brings joyful, peaceful meaning to life. 

Last week I attended the memorial service for my friend Izabela. Leukemia unexpectedly and ruthlessly entered her world at Thanksgiving. She battled it bravely, with the grace and loveliness with which she normally lived. Yet she lost the battle and died at the peak of her career and lovely life. Where is the loveliness in that?

A young pastor is suffering this morning in an Iranian prison for his crime of serving orphans, and choosing another religion besides the state edicted one. Where is the loveliness in that?

Another friend is scheduled for surgery next week to remove a malignant melanoma. Where is the loveliness in that?

In last night’s news, I read that two people had died in the blizzard that is pulsating in the Midwest. Where is the loveliness in that?

King David encountered similar perplexing, gut wrenching circumstances in his life. He turns that question on its head in Psalm 27 by asking, “whom shall I fear?” and provides the key for finding loveliness in the midst of adversity:

Psalm 27

The Lord is my light and my salvation—
    whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
    of whom shall I be afraid? ² When evil men advance against me
    to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me,
    they will stumble and fall. ³ Though an army besiege me,
    my heart will not fear; though war break out against me,
    even then will I be confident.

⁴ One thing I ask of the Lord,
    this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple. ⁵ For in the day of trouble
    he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
    and set me high upon a rock.

Yes, where is the loveliness when life bites? A former pastor often reminded us that we live in a fallen world. So true. But it is also true that the imprint of the Creator God, His loving-kindness and goodness are all around. So often we are blind to this, especially in the small but lovely things that present themselves daily: 

~ The kind light in a loved one’s eyes

~  The song of a bird outside the window

~ The faithful rising and setting of the sun

~ Food to satisfy our needs and often delight our senses 

~ Shelter from the cold and rain

~ The joy of children, the elderly, friends, and families.

~ Marvelous functioning of our heart, lungs, and blood supply without our direction or thinking 

~ Music, art, poetry, literature across the ages for our refreshment and growth in loveliness

~ God himself

In the Psalm above, David knew the paradox-mystery of life. He found beauty, loveliness in the Lord's presence when life threw it's worst at him. When we accept that mystery of life too--the dual ugliness, which will pass away, and the beauty of God, which will triumph ultimately and endure forever--then we can become full of loveliness speech and thought today like my friend Vicki.

One hymn I especially like to reflect on during this season of Lent is “My Song Is Love Unknown.” Both the beautiful text and melody help me to reflect on the unfathomable loveliness of Christ's sacrifice for me and for you. You can hear this hymn at one of these links in a recording I made just this week.

My Song Is Love Unknown - Youtube video

My Song Is Love Unknown - downloadable audio on Soundcloud

 

The lovely text is as follows:

My song is love unknown,

My Savior’s love to me.

Love to the loveless shown

That they might lovely be.

Oh, who am I, that for my sake

My Lord should take frail flesh and die?

Read the remaining stanzas here.

I’m going to keep my eyes open for loveliness today. How about you? And especially in those dark, clouded moments, may we find the loveliness that underlies all of life through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

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MUSIC LINKS for Psalm 27

From Hillsong - One Thing

A setting in Hebrew - Adonai Ori

A high school choir singing at the National Cathedral - The Lord Is My Light

Guildford Cathedral Choir - A Choral Chant Version

John Rutter's setting with the Cambridge Singers

World without End

Last week an asteroid brushed precariously close to our planet on its way to the great unknown. It caused a flurry of speculation about the end of the world. 

On the same day, a coincidence of preposterous odds found a meteorite breaking up over a cold Russian city, sending hundreds to the hospital with wounds from exploding glass windows. 

World without end? We hope so ... but it’s looking a little dicey these days. 

Sunday evening my husband and I decided to do a doubleheade; a service at Christ Church, followed by a long-anticipated concert at Meymandi Concert Hall with the Raleigh Symphony Orchestra. We left at 4:30 p.m. for the evening service at Christ Church in downtown Raleigh. Choral Evensong for the First Sunday in Lent was the order for worship.

As the sounds of the opening organ Voluntary filled the space, I immediately began to breath deeper and slower. In the presence of God’s beauty, one either holds their breath or unconsciously begins to breathe with the Spirit in unhurried and soul-cleansing rhythm. 

  Oculi omnium in te spirant, Domine:

    et tu das escam illorum 

    in tempore opportune.

  Gloria tibi, Domine. Amen.

  The eyes of all wait upon Thee,

    O Lord:
  And Thou givest them their meat

    in due season.

  Glory to Thee, O Lord. Amen.

The Choral Introit caused me to fix my gaze upward. I felt the warmth of a satisfied stomach and the good hand of God in caring for me. The holy feeling that hearing a choral piece sung in Latin always gives me was a welcomed friend. Eyes, hands, and heart fixed on God. Isn’t that what the beginning parts in worship do?

The space filled with memories of saints and angels from times ancient and new with the first hymn, the Phos hilaron. The Phos hilaron is the oldest surviving Christian hymn. Set to the lovely canonical tune from Thomas Tallis, the text gathers images of Light, the Trinity, and holy praise into a flowing stream of devotion. The organist played a sturdy canonical introduction, which set the tone for fine singing from the congregation.

The service continued, the music drawing me into its pulses, its message of praise. I left with the elevating Gloria Patri resonating in my mind and heart. Sung in three different settings following the Introit, Magnificat, and Nunc Dimittis, one phrase haunts me in a pleasant way still this evening, two days later . . . “world without end.”

Many churches sing or say this week after week, year round. These three powerful words refer back to the beginning of the hymn …  “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.” It is this praise and glory directed to our Triune God that will never end. The middle section says, “As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be” . . . and then the colossal ending, “World without end. Amen.”

Past, present, future. Meteors and asteroids, despots, nuclear warfare, pestilence and disease . . . all of it will not cause the praise of the Creator of the Universe to end. Upon leaving a service where that thought was so beautifully and powerfully affirmed, one cannot help but be at peace.

I plan to be there for the “ever shall be, world without end” part. God will either have to call me to heaven in a whirlwind, or resurrect my decayed body. Either way, He will find me and bring me into His eternal courts where praising His holy name will be my joy and delight, world without end. Amen. 

p.s.  A reflection on the concert we attended after Evensong is coming up in later this week.

Photos courtesy of NASA Public Domain images

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MUSIC LINKS

The Phos Hilaron set by Charles Wood - Hail Gladdening Light

Nunc Dimittis, Herbert Sumsion (1899-1995). Sung here by the Roden Boys & Men’s Choir. Christ Church Choir sang this at the service, and it is the closing Gloria Patri which echoed through the space and still echoes in my heart. 

A Hymn for St. Cecilia – Herbert Howells (also sung at the service at Christ Church)

Follow the text, which is given in the description on YouTube. The last few lines resonate with the theme of “world without end.” A martyr who sang to God while she was dying, Cecilia is remembered as the patron saint of musicians. 

Through the cold aftermath of centuries,

Cecilia’s music dances in the skies;

Lend us a fragment of the immortal air,

That with your choiring angels we may share

A word to light us thro’ time-fettered night,

Water of fife, or rose of paradise,

So from the earth another 

Song shall rise to meet

Your own in heaven’s long delight. 

                     text by Ursula Vaughan Williams

                     (poet and wife of Ralph Vaughan Williams) 

Giving Up Cabbage and More

Every spring as the first daffodils and crocuses peek from beneath the blanket of winter, another awakening comes along side to remind us of the beauty of our world, of life, and of grace. It is the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ that I am speaking of. Yet the prelude to that celebration begins with somber reflection, and continues with peeks, whispers, and steady focus toward Holy Week and the greatest Story Ever Told.

The season called LENT begins in the lives of many Christians with ashes, imposed on the forehead on Ash Wednesday. These ashes signal that a time of concentrated reflection on what Jesus Christ did in his earthly journey is beginning. We start with ashes to remind ourselves that it was for us, because we needed a Savior, that he came. 

When I first took a position in a church that observed the church year calendar, I was quite fascinated by the concept of Lent and all its disciplines. As you've probably heard, it's a common practice to "give up" something for Lent. The intention is to grow in self-discipline and allow more time, energy, resources for spiritual disciplines. 

Being on staff, a seasoned church musician, yet a newbie to Lent, I wanted to make sure I gave up something that was part of my normal daily life, and not something little like giving up cabbage or swearing (I can go months without cabbage, and I don't use swear words--after all, I work in a church!). 

After thinking about it for several weeks, I decided to give up television. This was at a time I lived alone, and after a long day at work, enjoyed the 10 p.m. news and a  program or two to wind down. Yet that experience was so beneficial; a time I remember fondly. 

Here's an anecdote from that first Lenten experience:

A young piano student, Lilly, asked me that first week of Lent what I was giving up for Lent. "Television" I answered. Her eyes grew wide, she shook her head and said, "I could never do that. I'm giving up chocolate." At nine years old, I admired that she'd even thought it through.

Several years later at a lesson Lilly said to me, again at the beginning of Lent, "Remember Ms. Nancy when you gave up TV for Lent?"

"Yes, I do Lilly. My TV is still in the bedroom closet."

"Get outta here! [running to the door, opening it, to where her mom was sitting in the hallway...] Mom! Remember when Ms. Nancy gave up TV for Lent two years ago? She is still giving it up!"

I wonder if Lilly remembers those conversations ...

Giving up TV during Lent was probably the biggest and most life-changing thing I've done for Lent. It also confirmed the beauty of the "replacement principle." Pastor Stortz at my church in Muncie introduced the congregation to that principle---when you repent or turn from something bad, you need to replace the void with something good. For me that was reading good books, listening to great music, going for a late evening walk, or writing letters to family or friends. I fondly recall that spring ... it really was an exercise of faith and growing in spiritual disciplines and has had lasting benefits.

  

p.s.  When I got married, the television came out of the closet. You can't marry a UT grad and Longhorn football fan and have a happy marriage with the TV in a closet. But other than football, we only have one program we regularly watch and it only runs seven weeks a year ... Downton Abbey. Yes, I'm hooked. Maybe I'll give that up for Lent in 2014.

 

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MUSIC LINKS

Here's a new music video from my studio that's especially appropriate for Lent:

Video features OCEAN photography by Katherine Micks

By the Babylonian Waters - A Meditation for Somber Days