“When
the Day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.” The
sound came from heaven like a mighty wind. The sound filled the whole
house where they were gathered. Struggling to describe the mystery
of this Pentecost happening, Luke writes in the Acts of the Apostles
that a tongue rested on each one. “Divided tongues, as of fire,
appeared among them.” The wonder of it all, the mystery of the
experience is not captured easily in words. But there is little hesitation
from Luke when it comes to the cause of the event, the behind the scenes
explanation. “They were filled with the Holy Spirit!” Everyone
then begins to speak in various and other languages.
The narrative continues in Acts chapter two. Devout Jews from every
nation lived in Jerusalem at that time and upon hearing the sound (the
sound that filled the house, the sound of everyone speaking) upon hearing
the sound a great, crowd gathered. Bewildered is what Luke says about
them. They were bewildered because each one heard them speaking in
their own language. The sound each person heard was in their native
tongue. In native tongues they heard each one speaking about God’s
deeds of power. Amazed, perplexed, the devout crowds wondered what
it all meant. Some even sneered, assuming the crowds were drunk. Others,
I imagine, demanded some consensus on an official language. But Peter,
Peter raised his voice above the crowds. “These people aren’t
drunk, it’s only 9:00 in the morning!” And he went on in
his sermon to explain that what they were hearing was the language
of praise. The sound of worship. A witness to God’s glorious
power. Sons and daughters shall prophesy, young men with visions, old
men with dreams. The Spirit of God poured out. And the sound? The sound
is that of praise and the praise is offered in response to salvation
made known in and through Jesus Christ, the One God made “both
Lord and Messiah.”
Pentecost worship. It’s an odd kind of singing in unison. A mighty
sound like a rushing wind. All sorts of tongues a blazing. A multitude
of voices in every kind of language. And yet, everyone hearing as one.
Hearing the sound of praise to God. The unison is in the doxology.
The Spirit of God. A diversity of voices. A continuity of praise.
The reaction to Stephen Paulus’ composition, his setting of Psalm
8, heard for the first time here this morning, the reaction leading
up to this morning has been rather consistent. After Ken Kelley first
received it, he told me it was going to be difficult piece. Sue Ellen
Page mentioned how hard she thought it would be when she read it from
the page. Jim Litton told me it wasn’t going to be one of those
anthems where people walked away humming some melody line in their
head. Choir members told me they had to work hard at it. At times there
are chords upon chords, multilayered sound, layers of harmony rather
than a simple tune that leaps off the page. Some sound comes only after
a bit of work at rehearsal. Most anyone can sing when the harmony is
served up for you on a platter!
“
O Lord our Lord how glorious is your name in all of creation!” That’s
the refrain of Psalm 8. The beginning and the ending. “O Lord,
our Lord, how glorious is your name in all creation. Taking a cue from
the psalmist, Paulus keeps coming back to the phrase, to the praise.
Amid the complexity of sound, that refrain can often be heard in unison. “O
Lord, our Lord, O our Lord, O our Lord.” Bill Walker, our bass
section leader observed a typical Paulus technique in the anthem. When
the composer has something important to say, then the speech patterns,
the rhythms throughout the choir are the same even. The sound can be
diverse, note upon note, but the patterns, the rhythms are the same
through the sopranos, the altos, the tenors, the basses. Amid chord
layered upon chord upon chord, there’s this odd kind of singing
in unison. A multitude of voices singing every kind of note. And yet,
when it comes to such praise, it is to be heard as one. “O Lord,
our Lord, how glorious is your name in all of creation!” The
unison is in the doxology! A diversity of notes. A continuity of praise.
Pentecost worship. Glorious. Glorious. Glorious.
The inscription at the top of the anthem reads “In honor of Kenneth
B. Kelley and the Adult Choir of Nassau Presbyterian Church in celebration
of 25 years of music leadership.” The point there is not about
endurance. It is about shaping a congregation’s worship life.
It is about grounding a congregation’s identity in songs of praise.
It is about the Body of Christ here in this place, and how any depth
of fellowship, any nurture of children, any cutting edge in education,
any advocacy for justice, it is about how here in this place it is
framed by that steady drumbeat of praise.
When you’re here after a reunion or when you’re here just
before a graduation, when your daughter has been confirmed, when your
husband has just been diagnosed, when your grandmother has died, when
you just been married, when your daughter has moved too far away, or
your son is stationed in Iraq, when your baby is being baptized, when
the love of your life is now dead and buried, when war has broken out,
when four generations of your family comes for a visit, when the whole
town comes to worship on September 16th, when two congregations come
together to both celebrate and lament a history of race and class far
more complex than any can imagine....when you are here, there is this
sound! This unison sound that talks of God’s mighty power. There
is this praise going on!
That sound. It’s more than the adult choir. It’s the congregational
choir. It’s the sound of our life together. It’s the sound
of our life of praise. It’s the sound of the Spirit. “All
of them were filled with the Holy Spirit.” Most anyone can sing
when the harmonies of life are served up in simple major thirds. But
week after week, year after year, there’s a bit of work that
goes into our praise, or shall I say, more than a bit of life and of
death. Even in the presence of the Holy Spirit, some sounds have to
be worked on. So like the psalmist, we dare sing on. “O Lord
our Lord, how glorious is your name in all creation.” That’s
Psalm 8. In Psalm 42 the refrain comes after a night of tears, after
the only joy named is that which is remembered, after question and
doubt and lament, “Why have you forgotten me?” Only then
comes the refrain. A refrain no doubt to be sung when surrounded by
others who can carry the tune, and in that moment others who sing with
a bit more volume, maybe even others who sing for you. “Hope
in God, for I shall again praise God, my help and my God.”
In congregations like ours, in size and breath of opportunity, there
is a reality that folks experience the community of faith in their
corner, or on their terms, with less awareness of how it all connects.
A volunteer at crisis ministry or a mission trip participant or an
eager supporter of this congregation’s call for social justice
may not find themselves here in worship that often. Someone faithful
to adult education may rarely find themselves in here. Youth group
members. Church school children. Bell choir members who leave after
the prelude. Parents who find themselves across the street for coffee.
I can’t say it strong enough. When it comes to the life and witness
and future of Nassau Presbyterian Church, it all starts in here. Our
life together in praise. Not the preacher. Not the choir in the loft.
Not one printed prayer or the other. Not just table. Not just fount.
But this, here, our unison doxology. This our sacrifice of praise and
thanksgiving. At least stick your head in and hear the sound.
Because when you are filled with the Holy Spirit, there is this sound.
It is the sound of praise. Old Testament scholar Patrick Miller writes
that such praise “assumes and even evokes a world....where impossible
things become possible, where things too difficult become the order
of the day.” Miller continues “In a world that assumes
the status is quo, that things have to be the way they are, and one
must not assume too much about improving them, the doxologies of God’s
people are one of the fundamental indicators that wonders have not
ceased, possibilities not yet dreamed of will happen, and hope is an
authentic stance.” That’s all ridiculous, Professor Miller
notes, “unless one has seen the wonders of God in the past.” Our
doxology assumes and evokes the very kingdom of God. The sounds of
our praise serve both to witness to God’s past faithfulness and
point to God’s future. The steadfast presence of our song on
the sabbath day dares give witness to world where justice and righteousness
kiss, where the weak are made strong, where the poor are lifted up,
where the oppressed are set free. It’s that sound of God’s
people, in one voice, singing forever and ever and ever, “glorious,
glorious, glorious.”
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