As we prepare for a service of Lessons & Carols this weekend, I cannot help but think back to one of my fondest memories of the one at my college alma-mater, about ten years after I last participated in it. When I was on campus, it was always one of those experiences that was not just “good” or “nice,” but truly spiritually nourishing. It was, of course, always done a certain way when I was there. It always started off with the choir in the back of the sanctuary, with a soloist leading the liturgy of the Service of Light (still being used from the good ‘ole green Lutheran Book of Worship at that time), as candles were lit in the pews. In between the lines of the music, there would be these interludes of what’s called a change-ring from the handbell choir: with the bells being passed in between ringers in a musical scale-like fashion. As the service went on, certain readers would read the lessons: among them, a child from the community would read the passage of “a little child shall lead them” from Isaiah 11, the president of the university would take care of one, and the finale from John 1 would always be read by the choir president.
Yes, the readings would stay the same, sometimes the same people would read in consecutive years, and, yes, we would always end with Silent Night, even with a verse auf deutsch. Interspersed there might be some different hymns sung from year-to-year, and even a variety of choral and handbell anthems. Regardless, it was special; that kind of special you don’t wanna mess with at all in our holy church operation. Even the immediate years after my graduation, when I would return that first Friday in December, I didn’t want it changed; as if something new could invade my precious memory and mess up the awe-struck feeling, the specialness of what already happened; to, in any way, alter that sacred portion of my faith journey.
Nevertheless, fast forward about ten years later…this was different. First of all, there was no handbell choir: there were not enough ringers on campus to put one together. And when I arrived in the sanctuary just after 7pm, when the pre-service music had just started, the sanctuary was nearly packed (even the balcony). I don’t remember it being like that before. And soon enough, when the service commenced, multiple choirs gathered in the back with the lights darkening and the candles lit amongst us in the pews. Then, came the first three verses of Genesis, creating this eerie feel, almost as if you were in the thick of the nothingness evoked by the Creation story. The combined choirs, then, added a robust Spirit layer when they sang Spirit Moving Over Chaos (David Ashley White) with the first two verses being:
Spirit, moving over chaos, bringing light where there was none,
be to us a light, revealing where the work is to be done.
Praise to God, among us dwelling, praise the Spirit giving light.
Will not day come soon?
Breath, instilling animation, giving life, informing soul,
breathe into all our beings life that makes the Body whole.
Praise to God, among us dwelling: praise the Spirit giving life.
Will not day come soon?
After all, even as much as we try to honor a liturgical calendar of sorts, including making sure we not overlook Advent with the big holiday coming up right around the corner, we may not realize the desperation, the most intense longing you cannot even begin to imagine behind a simple question: “Will not day come soon?” Will not a god love us? Will not all this hope shouted by the prophets come to any fruition whatsoever? Will not we see the world in a different way? Will not the Newness come to alter our physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual suffering normalcy? If the Spirit can “bring light where there was none,” why cannot it happen to us? Will not day come soon?
Before this different Lessons & Carols service concluded with some sense of normalcy with Silent Night (although, all in English this time around), the combined choirs sang Night of Silence (arranged by John Ferguson):
Cold are the people, winter of life
We tremble in shadows this cold endless night
Frozen in the snow lie roses sleeping
Flowers that will echo the sunrise
Fire of hope is our only warmth
Weary its flame will be dying soon.Voice in the distance, call in the night
On wind you enfold us You speak of the light
Gentle on the ear you whisper softly
Rumors of a dawn so embracing
Breathless love awaits darkened souls
Soon will we know of the morning.Spirit among us, shine like the star
Your light that guides shepherds and kings from afar
Shimmer in the sky so empty, lonely
Rising in the warmth of your son's love
Star unknowing of night and day
Spirit we wait for your loving Son.
It may very well be that the movers and shapers of this particular Lessons & Carols were trying to make those of us in the pews feel the most intense desperation of those in Judea, all of Galilee, and beyond, by singing these words before unveiling the Advent of the Christ child among the world in singing Silent Night. But then, they threw a spiritual curveball (how dare they keep messing with tradition!). After the final verse of Silent Night, after a brief silence when you thought all was completed for the evening, those choirs even more fully proclaimed the Good News of Great Joy for all of us people: they reverted back to the refrain in the first song, and sang, instead: “Christ is coming soon!”
As if…as if…the story isn’t even done yet. That Silent Night was special, to say the least. It was a holy feeling, a portion of humanity’s spiritual journey we don’t want messed with at all. And yet, something different is coming with that Second Advent, and…it’s quite possible…it will be even more special, evoking even more of a holy feeling, an even more transformational finale of our spiritual journey. We don’t know when, and yes, we have our differing takes on the how, but rest assured: in the eternal framework of the Spirit still moving over the chaos ensuing, “Christ is coming soon.” In the meantime, we give thanks to God for already coming us and “be[ing] to us a light, revealing where the work is to be done,” including in all the different circumstances of this life; with God’s help, to be sure. Amen (so let it be)!
In Christ,
Pastor Brad
To view a recording of the National Lutheran Choir singing Spirit Moving Over Chaos, please visit:
Spirit, Moving Over Chaos | National Lutheran Choir
To view a recording of the St. Olaf Choir (St. Olaf College, Northfield, MN) singing Night of Silence, please visit:
Night of Silence/Silent Night | St. Olaf Choir