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1 Carillon Park/Dogwood Dell https://www.flickr.com/photos/gammaman/51126469791/in/album-72157719337712505  Shared under https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/ 

It’s been too long! I made a choice to take a break from sharing these musical thoughts for a while, but I do enjoy it! Lent seems like a great time to restart a practice, so in addition to some much needed situps, lets put some words on a page about the music we sing-and we get to start with a double dose of Ash Wednesday and Lent 1!

The choir will begin our Ash Wednesday service by singing a collaboration by myself and a friend named David Gulliot. I had the pleasure of meeting David this past fall while visiting GIA. He took an interest in my writing, and this text especially. What began as a hymn became a choral piece as he explored different variations on the harmonies. The text is an updated version of a meditation I wrote this time last year, while reflecting on the practice of burning palms to create the ashes for Ash Wednesday. Alan Hommerding at GIA helped me move from my own singular first person perspective, to a “we/us” view:

Last year’s palms went up in smoke, 

embers flitted, settled down 

like mem’ries of beloved folk-

marching, waving palms around. 

After our hosanna song,

no more “save us” cries were heard. 

The week went on like nothing’s wrong

in this world, harsh and absurd. 

But then Thursday’s wine poured out, 

Friday’s cross, and Sunday’s grace, 

join crying stones and palms that shout, 

“save us!” through ash on our face.

We’re connected, you and I, 

palms you waved now crown my head. 

The “Save us, Lord!” that was our cry,   

God calls us to hear instead. 

Let us all by ashes bound

love, and heal, and give God praise.

Go, listen for that “save us” sound, 

moving through our forty days.

Our first hymn we will sing together is on page 353 of Chalice Hymnal, called Come to Me O Weary Traveler. It is not one that has been sung often at Grace, but it is one that I sang often at Seventh Street Christian Church, whose congregation is joining us! Sylvia Dunstan shares a meditation on Matthew 11:28-30 (NRSVUE):

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

As we begin our Lent, which will find us talking a great deal about following God-Dr. Seuss’s O The Places You’ll Go comes to mind. This first hymn acknowledges that our Lenten journey comes amidst our own life journeys, which may indeed have us feeling weary. Jesus’s invitation is not an added burden, indeed not a burden at all, but I hope an opportunity to let go some of that which wearies us.

In a similar vein, we will sing the first stanza of Softly and Tenderly (CH 340). I recall a debate among some of Kim’s BTSR classmates, asking if this old chesnut was sufficiently biblical. After all, many of Jesus’s words were neither soft, nor tender- neither is the experience of following when “Jesus is calling.”  Of course, like many hymns from the latter half of the 19th century, it can feel a bit like “Jesus is my boyfriend.” Yet, this hymn still has a place in my heart. I have an image of Christ as a parent, calling us children home after a day of playing, the street lamps have turned on, and it's time to wash for supper. The end of the refrain “sinner, come home” can sometimes be a stumbling block for the singer, as that word “sinner” has so much baggage. If that is you, I invite you to sub “children,” or “my child.” I have been known to quietly sing the name of God’s child, singing this at bedside of a beloved in hospice care. And thank God for the soft and tender ways that hospice nurses go about their work.

Our final hymn Ash Wednesday is number 666 (yes, you can chuckle), The Voice of God is Calling. This hymn is in response to our reading from Joel 2, and has us join in the generations of folks attempting to follow God. This hymn was written with imagery common to the social gospel of the early 20th century, and it does show its age in some places, even the updated version for 1995’s Chalice Hymnal. We now recognize that “to women and to men” is not as inclusive as we once believed. I had to look up the definition of “fetters” as in the end of the second stanza:

I see my people falling in darkness and despair/Whom shall I send to shatter the fetters which they bear? 

Fetters, in this case, means manacles or shackles. Who willl God send to shatter and liberate the shackled? Braxton just asked us that same question last Sunday.

Lent 1 will begin with the choir singing a lovely anthem called Farewell to Alleluia, by Olin Jones. For those of you who are unaware, there is a tradition of “burying Alleluias” during Lent, as our “Praise God” becomes less celebratory for a season. This anthem marks that, for a season we will leave that kind of exuberant praise to the choir of angels, as we spend some time more quietly.

Our first hymn is the ever stalwart Forty Days and Forty Nights (CH 179) which connects our time of Lent to Jesus’s fasting in the desert. Our Doxology during Lent will use a text that the United Methodist Church published a few years ago, sung to the great American composer William Billings’ tune, WHEN JESUS WEPT.

We will start out the first few weeks in Lent singing this in unison, but my hope is we will be singing it in canon by the end of the season. You can hear the canon here:

Our second hymn is a beautiful new composition that began with a haunting melody written by Ben Brody, that inspired a text by Hannah Brown, Be With Those Who Wander. It is an intercessory prayer, or something we pray to God on behalf of another person, place, or community (I would add sometimes we can pray on behalf of ourselves as well). I think it encapsulates much of what we will be feeling this Lent, as we wander with God. 

Be With Those Who Wander / PRAESENTIA #U01792 Words by Hannah Brown, and Music by Benjamin Brody- ©2023 GIA Publications, Inc. Used with permission under OneLicense.net #A-720486.

You can hear Ben Brody sing it here:

Our last hymn of the first week in Lent is an old chestnut, but not one that has been sung at Grace in over a decade, O Master, Let Me Walk with Thee (CH 602). I was hesitant at first, as especially in the south the word “master” is one with some dangerous history. Yet, as Theresa pointed out in our conversation, the writer, Pastor Washington Gladden, was a progressive leader of the social justice movement both during and after the Civil War. Gladden fought against racial segregation. This hymn, written in 1879 would have come out of his experience in the north, not out of plantation culture. Master, in this case, is a term of respect for the Great Teacher. With that in mind, I invite you to sing whichever word, be it teacher, leader, or master, that helps you connect with Christ as we sing.

1 Carillon Park/Dogwood Dell https://www.flickr.com/photos/gammaman/51126469791/in/album-72157719337712505  Shared under https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/ 

2 Be With Those Who Wander / PRAESENTIA #U01792 Words by Hannah Brown, and Music by Benjamin Brody- ©2023 GIA Publications, Inc. Used with permission under OneLicense.net #A-720486.