The Mystery of the Kingdom of Heaven
07-05 Proper 9
The Gospel portions this July deal with the mystery of the Kingdom of Heaven, focusing on the ‘Parable Sermon’ of Matthew 13. This series of lessons is introduced this week with an earlier passage in which Our Lord gives thanks that the Kingdom has been revealed to the simple, not the wise, and then invites the weary to find rest in him, who is ‘gentle and humble in heart’. This latter phrase is the inspiration for the Old Testament pairing, a passage from Zechariah 9:
Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey...
This passage is connected with both the Triumphal Entry and the Second Coming (it’s often read at Advent Lessons & Carols), and our musical settings reinforce these connections. Part of this text is found in our Offertory anthem by living composer John Eggert, which alludes to its Advent aspect by quoting the tune of ‘Savior of the nations, come’ [54]. Our Entrance hymn, ‘Blest be the King whose coming is in the name of God’ [74], ties together this Lesson and the Gospel: the first stanza refers to Christ’s poverty and humility, while the last is a summary of the ‘Come to me, all who are heavy-laden’ saying. (This hymn, also found in the Advent section of the Hymnal, is also connected to Palm Sunday by the tune to which it is set, ‘Valet will ich dir geben’, which is also used for ‘All glory, laud, and honor’, and which forms the basis of the organ prelude by J.S. Bach.) The text, ‘Bendito el Rey que viene en nombre del Señor’, was written in 1960 by Uruguayan bishop Federico Pagura and translated in 1973 by Fred Pratt Green. Finally, our Communion anthem is another take on the ‘Come to me’ passage: ‘I heard the voice of Jesus say’ [692] by Horatius Bonar, set to a tune by Thomas Tallis. Here each stanza begins with a saying of Jesus, then continues by recounting the poet’s (and singer’s) response to Christ’s invitation and the fulfillment of the promise contained therein.
Our Sequence hymn, ‘God, my King, thy might confessing’ [414], is a paraphrase of the appointed Psalm, 145, which tells of the splendor and eternity of the divine kingdom ruled by One characterized by grace, compassion, love, mercy, and faithfulness. Yet another musical Advent connection occurs here, since ‘Stuttgart’, to which this hymn is set, also serves for ‘Come, thou long-expected Jesus’ [66].
07-12 Proper 10
God’s powerful and fruitful word is the theme of this Sunday’s Gospel and the associated Lesson. The liturgy begins with ‘Blessèd Jesus, at thy word’ [440, also the subject of the organ prelude by living Dutch composer Wim Bomhof], in which we ask to be stirred by Our Lord’s teachings, spirit, truth, and light. Both readings make use of metaphors from nature to describe the activity, reach, and effectiveness of the divine word: it is like rain and snow that water the earth and bring forth food; it is like seed that is sown and bears fruit in the life of the one who receives it. Our Offertory anthem, a setting of ‘Almighty God, your word is cast’ [588], briefly summarizes the Gospel, asking that God’s word take root and bring forth fruit in every heart. Our Communion hymn, ‘Father, we thank thee who hast planted’ [302], based on a very early Christian text, connects the agricultural symbols to the life of the Church through the Sacrament, itself the product of agriculture. And our dismissal hymn, ‘Spread, O spread, thou mighty word’ [530], asks that God’s word go forth and ‘accomplish that which [God] purpose[s]’, as Isaiah puts it.
Meanwhile the Epistles for the next three weeks, taken from the very rich eighth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Romans, in dealing with what we might broadly call the Christian hope, repeatedly mention the Spirit’s role in the Christian’s life. We will take this opportunity to learn a hymn, ‘O Holy Spirit, root of life’, by modern American poet Jean Wiebe Janzen, which is based on a text by the brilliant medieval philosopher, mystic, author, and composer Hildegard of Bingen. As the striking music to which this is set in Voices Found is not well suited for congregational use and is not covered by our reprint and podcast licenses, we have chosen to set these words to a tune by Carl Haywood found in Wonder, Love, and Praise. Haywood, both a professor and parish musician, has contributed significantly to the Episcopal Church’s musical life at the national level with music spanning a range of both European- and African-American traditions. This tune, named for Grace Church, Norfolk, uses a restricted range and scale of notes and few large leaps, allying it with the chant tradition; it also makes repeated use of certain musical motives and uses the same rhythmic pattern in each phrase – all of which contribute to its ease of learning and singing. A literal translation of Hildegard’s text reads as follows:
The Holy Spirit, the life who enlivens and excites everything,is the root of every creature;
she both washes everything from uncleanness, wiping away offenses,and salves wounds,
and thus is a shining and praiseworthy life, rousing and reviving everything.
07-19 Proper 11
This week we read of God’s patience and mercy in another parable about a sower as well as the related Lessons and Psalm (86). The themes of the latter are similar to those in Psalm 145, read two weeks ago, which is paraphrased not only in a hymn we sang then [414], but also in ‘We will extol you, ever-blessed Lord’ [404], which we sing this week. It is well worth comparing the two hymn-paraphrases with each other and with a literal translation such as that found in the Prayer Book Psalter or a Bible: translation is often an act of meditation, and even studying different translations sheds different light on a text as we study and pray it.
God’s sovereignty, holiness, and inscrutability, mentioned already in this hymn (‘great and unsearchable in all your ways’), emerges as another set of themes in our readings. But although we cannot see God – we cannot bear to see God as God is – here and now, we can and do experience the divine in the Sacrament and in our neighbor, in the Church and in the world. Our Communion hymn [314] is entirely about our inability to see God with our physical senses: ‘Humbly I adore thee, Verity unseen, / who thy glory hidest ’neath these shadows mean...’, we sing; ‘Taste and touch and vision to discern thee fail’; it is only ‘faith, that comes by hearing, pierces through the veil’, and will enable us in the end to behold the Lord unveiled. Our Communion anthem, ‘Panis angelicus’, also deals in a way with this topic: ‘The bread of angels becomes the bread of mortals’ (see Psalm 78.25). (Both texts, appropriately enough, come from the liturgies of the feast of Corpus Christi, the Body [and Blood] of Christ.) Likewise, our Postcommunion hymn, ‘Come with us, O blessèd Jesus’ [336], reads, ‘Thou art God, thy glory veiling, so that we may bear the sight’ – but the very next line asks that we may see and know God in God’s people as we go to ‘seek and serve’ (echoing the language of the Baptismal Covenant). The gracious 17th-century tune is the subject of the organ prelude, a set of variations by J.G. Walther, cousin and colleague of J.S. Bach.
07-26 Proper 12
The ‘Parable Sermon’ of Matthew 13 concludes with a series of similes attempting to describe the hidden power of the kingdom. We learn, among other things, that the kingdom is practically invisible, like tiny mustard seeds or yeast, yet its effects are great and pervasive; it is of such worth that, once glimpsed, all else becomes worthless and is to be given up for its sake. In our Old Testament Lesson, Solomon asks for wisdom rather than riches – in a way, to see as God sees, which is perhaps another way of understanding life in God’s Kingdom. We too ask for this vision, this wisdom, which is itself divine: ‘Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart’; ‘Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word’ [488]. This Irish prayer, ‘Rop tú mo bhoile, a Comdi cride’, dates from sometime between 700 and 1000 and is cast in the form of a lorica (‘breastplate’), a prayer for protection in spiritual or physical battle (see also ‘St Patrick’s Breastplate [370]). It was translated by Mary Byrne and versified by Eleanor Hull in the early 20th century, and set to an Irish folk melody known as ‘Slane’, first published around the same time.
Our Entrance hymn, ‘People of God, gather together’, is the work of another female 20th century writer, Patricia Blaze Clark, who spent much of her later life in Austin, held an MDiv from the Seminary of the Southwest, taught religion, published a number of hymns – and sang in my choir. Entitled ‘Heavenly Dance’, this hymn perhaps alludes to ‘Be thou my vision’ in its last line: ‘come to the God who is Wisdom and Word’. The text as a whole recounts the characteristics of the people of God (‘made in God’s image’); of the community called the Church (mending, healing, releasing, welcoming); and of the Eucharistic liturgy (hearing, heeding, bearing gifts, sharing in the ‘heavenly feast’). ‘Women and men’ was expansive language when this hymn was written; I have emended the last stanza to begin ‘Siblings in God’, hoping for Pat’s posthumous blessing!
The Epistle, continuing the theme of the Christian hope that is the subject of Romans 8, contains several justifiably well-known and beloved passages. Among them is this: ‘If God be for us, who can be against us?’ We have the privilege of hearing Handel’s equally well-known and beloved setting of these words from Messiah.
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