This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before. ~Leonard Bernstein
Grace was the last thing on my mind as I hurried up the red-carpeted stairs. I slipped, breathless, into my first balcony seat–the Davies Symphony Hall ushers follow a precise schedule.
The instruments were warming; the choir, black-clad backs straight and formal, waited for their cue to stand. I tried to relax. Handel’s Messiah, performed by the finest of San Francisco musicians, never fails to stir me to wonder. But this was the day after Friday, December 14, and Connecticut was on my mind.
Huddled in a cloud of hurt and anger for families I have never met, I let the soaring scriptures wash over me. The melodies and lyrics follow a well-worn path in my memory– but the words refused to take root as I sang along inside.
Grace Or Condemnation
A question:
At the heart of all things do you see cold-eyed judgment or a bent toward mercy? As a sound track to life do you hear a cacophony of criticism, or a lullaby of grace? In your view, does Offended Sovereign or Passionate Savior best describe God? Which is reflected in your response to tragedy?
Listen For The Amen
The Messiah ends with a glimpse from John’s vision in Revelation 5. John weeps bitterly–there is no one worthy in heaven or earth to open the scroll–no one who has earned the right to speak into our misery, to help us understand an incomprehensible God. The scroll of understanding is sealed to our finite minds.
But John is comforted: there is one worthy to unseal it. The choir sings, “Worthy, is the lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by his blood…”
My Messiah score concludes with six pages of “Amen.” From forte to fortissimo–loud to very loud–an emphatic end to the oratorio. I’ve heard the closing section many times, but never as I heard it that night. In the middle of the amens, the conductor surprised me–he signaled piano, soft. A sweet lullaby-like amen emerged from the strings. Not bombastic, not triumphant, but tender. Was this a poignant nod to the slain children and their grieving families? The bows of the violins seemed to weep.
Then, a sudden return to loud, bold, certain. A pause, then every voice joined as one–the final, “Amen, Amen!”
I remembered, and my heart softened–the word “amen” means “Yes!” Jesus Christ is God’s emphatic “yes” to this world, his plan to redeem a beloved, broken, world. If you listen, you will hear it, a tender lullaby of grace.
How will you add your voice to God’s “yes” to the world this Christmas?
4 replies on “Tenth Gift of Advent: A Lullaby Of Grace”
You put it well–“no one who has earned the right to speak into our misery”, except the Lamb that was slain. All of the voices that have attempted to speak to our misery sound so shallow, so inept, including my own. I have wondered these past few days if anyone else notices that even if we did what they say would “fix” the problem, it wouldn’t work–it would come up far short, and the pain would continue. Is anyone seeking the real solution? Or do politicians and the media successfully convince the world that they are worthy?
That’s a powerful thought, Deb. Plenty of unworthy voices drown out the One who is worthy of a hearing.
Oh my, I can hear that piano music play, just see the little ones running to gather round HIM, whom all blessing flows, even in tragedy and monumental hurt. I feel our God’s grieving and Grace alike.
God of grace and grief–beautiful, Patsy.