February 28, 2016

Helen Jacobi

Lent 3     2 Chronicles 5:11-14     Luke 13:18-21

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The novel The Chimes [1] by NZer Anna Smaill tells the story of a world governed and controlled through music. Each day music and song is played from the Carillon – at Matins in the morning and Vespers in the evening. In hearing this music the people lose the ability to have any memory and relearn the story of their lives each day through the music. It is a gripping novel which speaks of the power of both music and a common story to hold our lives together. In the novel’s case the music is used for control but the people are eventually freed by others who use their music skill to tell a different story and set the people free.

I don’t know if the novelist Anna Smaill has any background in church and faith but the language of the novel suggest so – as matins and vespers are played and the tale that is told through the music “onestory” has echoes of the way we read the Bible as the story of our faith. And the liberators proclaim a new story – like the people of Israel liberated from slavery – or the early followers of Jesus proclaiming the story of his resurrection.

In our worship we do the same thing. We tell our story and the story of those who have gone before in word, action and song. In our music we sing ancient texts, words written well before the time of Jesus – the psalms, the hosanna, the songs of Miryam and Moses; then we sing words written about or to Jesus – the kyrie – Lord have mercy; the Lord’s prayer; hymns from every century, hymns of praise, laments, songs which help us reflect, others which drive us to action. Each generation tries to sing their story, their faith.

Our reading from the Second Book of Chronicles mentions the music makers (we don’t often read from Chronicles – in fact once – Lent 4B and not this passage!). 2 Chronicles is written somewhere between 400 and 200 BC covering a swathe of history. This passage is about the building of the first temple way back in the time of Solomon (968BC). It describes “levitical singers”. They were an order of priests who assisted in the Temple and amongst them were singers – these ones we are told come in to sing along with the trumpeters and “house was filled with a cloud”. The cloud was seen as a sign of the presence of God; like Moses going up the mountain into the cloud to speak with God or the cloud descending on Jesus at the Transfiguration. Here in the temple we are told “the glory of the Lord filled the house of God”.

Music and song has always been part of worship back to these most ancient of times. Singing together as a community brings us together, binds us. And listening to the music of those blessed with the gift of song and the ability to play, transports us to a place where we might meet God.

Like the ancients in the temple where they saw a cloud descend we are able to feel another dimension of our experience of God. Our musicians share their gift with us every week. Michael Bell has shared his gifts of playing and composition and generally talented musicianship with us every week for 14 years. What a gift that has been. What a blessing.

When Michael composes and plays and improvises we do not only hear fine technical playing. He can play anything, anytime – but when he plays we hear more than just the notes on the page. We hear Michael’s own story and Michael’s own faith. When a preacher preaches they lay their faith bare before their listeners; when Michael plays he lays his faith bare before us. And I think that is why he inspires us and leads us to heaven so often with his music.

When I scanned through the gospels to find a suitable reading for today I couldn’t go past the two short parables from Luke. What is the kingdom of God like? Like a tiny mustard seed that grows into a plant way bigger than it should so that birds can shelter in it. What is the kingdom of God like? Like yeast that a woman takes and mixes with flour so the flour can become bread. The kingdom of God, the way of God, the community of life and faith is something tiny and insignificant, almost invisible; yet when planted or used, it becomes something else and becomes useful and nourishing.

So a note of music on a page or a few notes of music, and in Michael’s case not notes on a page but in his head! These notes become something else – they become praise of God, they become an invitation to pray, they become an invitation to the table, they become a sense of the presence of God, they become a heartfelt cry to be heard, a lament, a song of joy, a quiet meditation.

A mustard seed becomes a tree, yeast becomes bread, notes on a page become sublime music. And the music leads us to places outside of our heads and into our hearts – into our hearts where love can be found and so where God can be found.

Michael you have given this church and its people 14 years of music translated into faith and faith translated into music. You have played for us in times of sorrow and in times of joy. You have played for countless funerals and weddings. For ordinary Sundays and the great festivals. You have composed and improvised and created. You have played Bach for us (and a few other composers!) You have given of your talent and we are so grateful.

Your compositions will stay with us, and we will continue to enjoy them. Like the yeast mixed in with flour they are part of us now. We know God will bless you on this next stage of your musical journey and that you will continue to bless others with your music.

And we continue with our calling to be a community of faith in this place. We will sing and say together the mysteries of our faith; and every now and then that cloud of wonder and God’s presence will descend upon us and we will be grateful.

[1] Sceptre 2015