Sermons

Sun, Sep 23, 2012

Embracing the divine mystery

A service of tribute to the late Lew Barrett AO OBE
Series:Sermons
I never had the privilege of hearing Lew Barrett play the organ––
certainly not when he was at his peak.
My only contact with Lew came in his twilight years…
with his organ-playing days long behind him…
and his sharp mind beginning to fail him.
So, my memories of Lew are of the jokes that he would tell…
over morning tea after the Sunday service––
the same ones repeated week in, week out.
I remember him reciting the Lord’s Prayer during the service…
loudly…
and out of synch with everyone else.
More than anything, however, I remember him not singing the hymns…
but, instead, simply listening to the organ being played…
concentrating on the music.
I don’t know if that’s something that he had always done…
or whether it was something more recent––
a product of his fading faculties.
But it left an indelible impression on me…
because it’s so contrary to my natural tendencies.
I’m a word-person.
I live, think, and breathe words.
In many respects, you could say that I’m a professional writer.
In the course of any given week, I churn out thousands of words…
as I seek to shape the linguistic narrative that flows through the Sunday liturgy.
And, in that context, it’s the lyrics of hymns that concern me…
and how they contribute to that narrative.
My concern with hymn texts is not focussed on them at a poetic level––
not in the strict sense of rhythm and rhyme.
Rather, my concern is with the use of metaphor and image…
paradox and parallelism…
the inclusiveness and expansiveness of the language…
the connections and progressions of the logic…
the soundness of the theology.
Those are the things that concern me.
Those are the things that grip me.
Those are the things that spark my imagination and feed my soul.
In terms of the theory of multiple-intelligences…
I’m the epitome of the classic ‘linguistic-logical’ type.
So, when the celebrated theologian and hymn-writer––Brian Wren––
notes that many ministers complain,
“Why do people sometimes love to sing hymns cluttered with archaic language and defective theology?”…
I want to let out an exasperated, “Yes!”
And yet, in almost the same breath, Wren points out that…
lurking behind that question…
is the assumption that the “meaning” of a hymn “derives completely from the meaning of its text”.
But, he argues, it doesn’t…
because music does things that “speech alone cannot do”.
Leaving aside the fact that music can both evoke emotion…
and give it form or expression…
the neurologist, Oliver Sacks, points out that music can trigger deep, nonverbal responses;
and that, in listening to music, our brains make connections.
And perhaps that’s what is meant by the saying––
usually attributed to St Augustine––
that, “whoever sings prays twice”.
Music, in and of itself, can connect us to God.
After all, what the Judaeo-Christian tradition affirms is that God is not simply––
or even primarily––
an object of belief.
God is an experience.
God is to be encountered above and beyond…
but also within and beneath…
the reality in which we exist.
When all is said and done, God is a profound mystery…
or, in the words of the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “God is the ‘beyond’ in the midst of our life”––
beyond comprehension…
beyond words…
beyond, even, our limited and culturally conditioned experience.
Music can help us to touch the mystery of God…
in ways that logic and language cannot.

 

In this morning’s reading from Colossians…
the author writes to a struggling community…
exhorting them to live out their identity…
offering a series of ethical exhortations.
He suggests that what ought to mark them as a community of God’s people––
a community committed to and seeking to follow Christ––
is compassion, kindness, patience, forbearance, peace and love.
And, to that end, he encourages them to…
“teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs to God”.
And yet, our English translations don’t capture the nuance of the original Greek.
It could also be translated:
“in all wisdom, teach and admonish one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs; and sing in your hearts to God”.
Translated like that, music becomes integral.
The author expects the church’s music to influence its theology…
and to shape its way of life.
He understands music as a vehicle for them to become in reality whom they are in theory.
Through music they can experience God…
more deeply and more fully…
in ways that transcend the rational and the predictable…
in ways that can expand their comprehension.
After all, as John Wesley reminds us…
our comprehension of truth is always an on-going  dialectic or dialogue…
between our past knowledge, our reason, and our experience.
Music helps to connect us to the mystery of God…
reminding us that our grasp of truth is always partial…
and inviting us to openness.

 

But, let’s be honest…
it’s very seldom these days that we hear Christian leaders talk about mystery––
certainly not in relation to God.
Listen to people like Peter Jensen…
or George Pell…
or Jim Wallis from the Australian Christian Lobby…
and you won’t hear much talk of the mystery of God.
Quite the opposite!
All of them confidently assert that they know what the mind of God is…
that they know what God wants from us…
that they know what we ought to believe…
that they know how we ought to behave.
In essence, they presume to know, to understand God.
They peddle in certainty, not in mystery.
They believe that they are right…
that they corner the market on truth.
They think that they have pinned God down…
because they’ve reduced God to a set of propositions…
they’ve taken a small collection of images and metaphors and made them universal truths…
they’ve seemingly reduced God to the rational and the logical.
Mystery is not at the heart of what they communicate about God…
and, we have to conclude, it’s not at the heart of their experience of God.
At the same time, the pronouncements that they make can be so lacking in compassion and love.
Are the two not connected?
Surely, the more that we pin God down…
the more that we’re convinced that we are right…
that we know the truth…
the less open…
the less accepting…
the less compassionate…
the less loving…
we become.

 

So, whether he intended to or not…
I will always remember Lew for reminding us…
for beckoning us…
to listen to the music of creation…
to transcend the purely rational…
to embrace the divine mystery…
that, ever more perfectly…
God’s openness would echo in our souls…
God’s love would resonate in our hearts…
and our lives would become a symphony of praise.
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