“Songs in the Night”

Third Sunday in Advent -- December 16, 2001

Lectionary Texts: Isaiah 9:2-7, Luke 1: 46-55

           

Peter Yarrow, of Peter, Paul and Mary once said that singing is such a heart-felt activity that when you sing you can't lie, because if you do, you'll be immediately found out. So, he said, we must require our presidential candidates to sing to the American people “…from sea to shining sea!” People of faith, on their way to any place worth going, would be singing. Can you imagine a civil rights movement without a song like "We Shall Overcome," or the overcoming of Apartheid in South Africa without "Nkosu Sikeleli Afrika?" Or can you imagine our nation overcoming the terrible calamity of September 11, without songs like “God bless America?” Or can you believe an Advent and Christmas season without singing carols – even though we are in the midst of grief and war.

            From time to time I have talked to you about an important principle of praise -- that praise must not only be re-active (i.e. praising God after you've won the battle) but also pro-active (i.e. praising God while still in the thick of the struggle, before the dawn breaks, while it is still night). Praise keeps us from being victims of our circumstances and makes it possible for us to be co-creators with God of a new creation. Many of the Psalms and songs in the NT were sung by the worshipping community while in the thick of the struggles. They anticipated that when they engaged in such worship and praise they would be creating a new order with God. I want to tell you a couple of biblical stories and one contemporary one to illustrate this principle.

            There is a fascinating story in 2 Chronicles 20 about how Judah was attacked by a coalition army of Moabites, Ammonites and Meunites. You must read that story. Jehosaphat, the King of Judah, without rushing to strike back, proclaimed a fast throughout Judah. Fasting, of course, is not one of our favorite spiritual disciplines. It’s a good discipline though, particularly as we approach the season in which we tend to indulge like at no other time. Some Christian leaders have suggested that it would be a good thing for Christians to fast this Advent season, particularly since this year Ramadan is also at the same time. What better way is there to be in solidarity with our Muslim friends? Since Advent is a time of preparation, fasting would indeed, be a good way to prepare our hearts and minds to experience Christ anew this Christmas.

            Anyway, Jehosaphat he did not go headlong into an attack mode. He gathered a great assembly for fasting and prayer. And before that assembly, Jehosaphat prayed acknowledging his vulnerability in the face of the enemy and in the presence of God.

President Jimmy Carter was on TV this week, pushing his new book “Christmas in Plains.” I have great admiration for him, more than anything else because his public policy arose out of his deep faith. You may remember the consternation he caused among the White House press corps when he said that every night he confesses his sins. Imagine that! In front of that large assembly, Jehosaphat confessed his sin, and there too was great consternation among the people. Like Carter, Jehosaphat was not going to give any false impression of who he was in God’s presence – a sinner. That’s why he called this assembly of national repentance. When great calamity fell upon the nation, that’s what Biblical people did.

At that time, in the middle of the assembly, the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jahaziel the prophet and he brought a word from the Lord that is applicable to us for all time, not only to nations but also to individuals in the midst of struggle. "Listen all of Judah and inhabitants of Jerusalem, and King Jehosaphat; thus says the Lord. Do not fear or be dismayed at this great multitude; for the battle is not yours but God's. This battle is not for you to fight; take your position, stand still, and see the victory of the Lord on your behalf, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not fear or be dismayed; tomorrow go out against them and the Lord will be with you." I wish someone had been there to tell President Bush that the battle against terrorism is God’s battle and not his. When it is God’s battle, it is not just a battle of vengeance, but also a battle for justice and righteousness and mercy. Bush may very well capture Bin Laden, and that will be trumpeted as a great victory and an affirmation that the military operation was the right thing to do. The unfortunate thing is that in the process he would have destroyed many more lives and created an entire new generation of suicide bombers.

Jehosaphat bowed down, his face to the ground, and all the people fell down before the Lord, worshipping the Lord. And then, the Levites stood up to praise the Lord, the God of Israel, with a very loud voice. The following day, as the opposing armies were arrayed against them Jehoshaphat gave battle orders "OK now the army is ready to go in, but in front of the army must go the choir." The choir? Before you send the B52s with their bombs blazing, send in the poets, and musicians with music of praise. In front of the ground troops, send the choir. And since we are fighting in Muslim country, let the choir from the mosque lead them. Why? Because praise is pro-active; it is creative and transformative. Bombs and guns might win us battles, but it is praise that wins the war, because all this is ultimately about people, their needs and passions. And they went forward into war singing, "Give thanks to the Lord, for his steadfast love endures forever." What a profound expression of their trust in God! And the Lord set an ambush against the Ammonites, Moab and Mount Seir, who had come against Judah, and they were routed. So, here’s the pattern: and this is true for us as individuals as well. When it seems like the whole world is arrayed against you, first, humble yourself in God’s presence and before each other, you acknowledge your sin and confess your sin, remember that God is more invested in this battle than you are, so when you go in to battle, go singing -- songs of praise to God. Why? Because praise is proactive. In praise you become a co-creator with God of a new order “where Justice rules with mercy and love is law’s demand.”

Here’s the second story. The first part of the book Isaiah, was written around the 8th century before Christ. Isaiah knew that his country was going to be attacked by Assyria, the empire to the north. There was great anxiety in the country and the economy was in ruins. In Chapter 8 Isaiah names his son Maher-shalal-hash-baz, meaning the "spoil speeds, the prey hastes" because he prophesied that before the child is able to say Mommy and Daddy, the Assyrians will attack and the wealth of his country and its best people would be carried out to exile. In this dark hour, when there are no jobs, and no equity to stimulate the economy, what will the people do? God says, if they will listen to their own devices for instruction, rather than listen to God, (which is what we still do!) they will "pass through the land greatly distressed and hungry; when they are hungry, they will be enraged and curse their king and their gods. They will turn their faces upward or they will look to the earth, but will see only distress and darkness, the gloom of anguish; and they will be thrust into thick darkness." What a distressing picture! And at a time like this when in our nation, among our neighbors and even in our church, many are seriously struggling, both from the grief of lost or hurt loved ones and from lost jobs and livelihood, the church must stand with their grief. Our evangelistic task is also to help them look to God rather than to other devices and thereby get even more depressed. How does God help?

"But" says Isaiah at the beginning of Chapter 9. That’s a very important "but." "There will be no gloom for those who were in anguish." How come? And he bursts out in song: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who walked in the land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined.” Everybody looks up suddenly interested. “For a child has been born for us..." he says. In the midst of the distress, gloom and the anxiety of impending doom, there's a song, of great hope and promise – and this child is named “a wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and Prince of peace.” Not only that, “His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forever more.” It may be just a child, but it’s a child of promise: in the middle of the night the flicker of a candle, in the midst of the barrenness, a seed of hope.

            You also know about Mary, a simple young woman; possibly not much more than in her late teens; and coming from a poor peasant family, she lived in a culture that really hoped for things to change but somehow change never came. For generations, they had expected the Messiah to come, but there was no Messiah. She knows how urgently the old order has to change; how urgent it is that the Lord show strength with his arm, to scatter the proud, to bring down the powerful from their thrones and lift up the lowly. She knows how urgent it is to send the rich away empty, so that the hungry can be filled with good things. She knows how urgent it is for the new order to come. This teenage peasant girl’s song is nothing short of a call to revolution – and is powerful even today. Several years ago, when Cardinal Bernandin died, he requested that the Magnificat be sung at his funeral. A TV commentator particularly pointed to these verses -- Is this why the Cardinal wanted this song, he wondered? And when a church in Argentina wanted to sing this song on a radio program at Christmas, the government banned it. It was too revolutionary, they said.

            In Mary's story we are reminded of two other women who could not bear sons apart from divine intervention. One is Elizabeth whose story is connected with this one and the other is Hannah, Samuel's mother with whose song, Mary's song has much in common. For both Hannah and Elizabeth their womanhood was achieved when they were liberated from the shame of barrenness. But Mary's story is different. Even before she is married, before she was ready, she is called upon to bear a son. Now that puts her in a very awkward position. Although not having a child was shameful, having a child out of wedlock, a sure sign of adultery, under the law was punishable by stoning the woman to death – just like the Taliban did. But still she says, "I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." Mary takes an enormous step of faith. Can you imagine the anxiety that she would have felt until she learned that Joseph would still receive her? Because if he didn’t he could have had her killed. But perhaps still in the midst of her anxiety, Mary sings her song. The risk is worthwhile because she anticipates being a co-creator with God in bringing about a new order. 

            I want you to notice that these people had something in common. They were people of faith whose deep trust of God enabled them to sing defiant songs of praise in the face of the disaster. And in case you think these things happened only in the Bible, I have a contemporary story for you. Its about the tenacious faith of a nameless, homeless man.

             In 1971, Gavin Bryars, one of England's leading composers agreed to help with a film about street people. In an area around London's Waterloo station they filmed various people living on the streets, their daily rituals, trials and joys. As Bryers made his way through the footage, he became aware of a constant undercurrent, a repeating sound that always accompanied the presence of one older man. At first the sound seemed like muttered gibberish. But after removing the background street noise and cleaning up the audiotape, Bryars discovered that the old man was singing. Ironically, the footage of this old man and his muttered song didn't make it to the film. So Bryars picked up the rejected audiotape, because he could not escape the haunting sounds of this man and went on to do some research on him. Bryars learned that this man did not drink or mentally incompetent. He apparently had some speech impediment. His demeanor was sunny, and even though he was old, alone and homeless, he had a certain playfulness. He took delight in teasingly swapping hats with the film crew.

            What distinguished this old man from other street people was his song. The song he sang under his breath was a simple, repetitive tune, which he sang like a mantra, quiet and uninterrupted for hours on end. "Jesus' blood never failed me yet, never failed me yet. There's one thing I know, for he loves me so, Jesus' blood never failed me yet." Like a film loop, the song's final line fed into its first line and this man's old untrained voice never wavered from pitch, never went flat, never changed key.

            One day, Bryars had the tape running in the background while he was working, but left his studio door open while he ran downstairs to get a cup of coffee. When he returned several minutes later, he found a normally buzzing office environment eerily quiet. The old man's quiet, quivery voice had leaked out of the recording room and transformed the office floor. Under the spell of this voice, an office of busy professionals had grown hushed. Many had taken their seats and were sitting motionless at their desks, transfixed by the voice. Some silently weeping, tears flowing undisturbed down their faces.

            Bryers was stunned. He could not help but be confronted by the mysterious spiritual power of this voice. He himself started yearning for the confidence of faith this old man's song celebrates. He began to face for himself what it must feel to be homeless in the loneliness he himself experienced. Following that experience Bryers vowed to respect this homeless man by creating a recording that would celebrate and accentuate his simple message. It took England's leading composer until 1993 to create and produce what he felt was a proper accompaniment to this homeless person's song of trust. This he did in partnership with Philip Glass, one of America's leading composers. So, what took two prominent musicians to come together to create a musical framework to preserve this old man's song? Why did an office full of busy people find themselves reduced to tears at the sound of his voice? And why do thousands want to hear the music woven from this tiny scrap of audiotape retrieved from the cutting room floor?

Hear the song yourself. Listen meditatively to a few minutes of this 75 minute work and try to enter the world of a homeless man whose trust of God is so evident in his simple song of trust and praise. First hear the man's lone voice among the street noise, starting very softly and building up. Then various parts of an orchestra picks up first as background music and then  -- a string quartet, low strings, full orchestra and then with another man. In the final track, the homeless man's voice fades away and only the new voice remains. It is as if the homeless man gave his voice to the other and faded away.

There is power in the sheer tenacity of faith that made it possible for this man to sing a song of trust and praise. Trust and praise when things are going well is easy. But to sing such a song when things are tough and when you are called to even greater levels of obedience requires a tenacious faith. Was it not that kind of tenacity that enabled the king to send the choir to the battlefield, and Isaiah and Mary sang so courageously of a new order? Is it not with the same tenacity of faith that we sing of what seems to most people as an absurd little story -- of a homeless baby born in a manger, exiled as a refugee before two, but growing up to become the savior of the world? None of these people brought great virtue or courage or talent as they encountered God from the existential reality of their situation. They brought their brokenness with all its pain and anxiety, to make an offering of a song. The homeless man didn't even bring great music. But God took the broken pieces of what they brought and made a symphony. Their tenacious faith -- that no matter what the circumstances, God must be trusted, God must be praised resulted in their co-creating with God, a new world.