Can you carry a tune?

Can you carry a tune?
David R. Weiss – October 2, 2023

NOTE: Several weeks ago, I was invited to put together a worship service built around several of my hymn texts for Zion Lutheran, right here in the Midway (that is, just about nine blocks west of where I live). That service was yesterday. Because several family and friends have either expressed curiosity over what I did for this service or have outright asked for a copy of it, I’ve decided to put my “script” up on my blog.

Since their pastor typically sends out a short “teaser” email on Saturdays, introducing the Sunday morning theme, I did the same. This was my email message:

I can, just barely. I don’t play an instrument. Can’t write music. My “reading” skill involves following those little dots up and down the lines on the treble clef. I can make my voice go up and down, but whether it matches the notes—your guess is as good as mine. (Be nice.)

But I do love to sing hymns. From the ancient Hebrew psalms to the early Christian hymns—and for all the generations from Jesus’ to ours—faith has always asked to be sung. It makes sense. When the Bible speaks of God’s Spirit “hovering over the face of the deep,” (Genesis 1:2), the Hebrew word for “Spirit” is ruach: “breath.” God’s breath is hovering. Next thing we know that breath is speaking, “Let there be light.” Or is it singing?

When we sing, we wed our breath to words that float on notes to carry our faith. We recall—rehearse in heartfelt singing—the stories and images of our faith. For both children and adults there is spiritual formation happening with each breath drawn in and each word released in song. It is not too much to say that hymns represent participatory theology. Music softens our souls, opens our neural networks, if you prefer. We own the images we sing with extra feeling. Sung theology sinks into our bones.

Of course, sometimes the words in hymns get “tired”; they no longer carry the rich meaning for us today that they did for an earlier generation. Or the music is less than hospitable to congregational singing. Or the theology within the words reflects beliefs that no longer match the God we’ve come to know.

Nevertheless, at their best, hymns invite us to breathe our faith, filling our lungs so that a Holy Wind might move through our voices as we sing. Aided by rhyme and melody, these stories and images shape our hearts. There is nothing cute about this. Hymns represent a sort of holy ground on which we best remove our sandals as we step into a life-altering, soul-transforming relationship with biblical images … and the Living God who stands behind them. You say “rhyme,” I say “revolution.”

Come Sunday and sing!

David Weiss

PS: I’m so excited-delighted-honored-and-humbled to be with you in worship on Sunday. We’ll sing SIX of my hymn texts—a seventh will be sung as a solo. I’ll give you a peak behind the text of each hymn before we sing. I’m betting you’ll feel this theology move through your lungs and lives with extra clarity and grace.

And then the worship service itself. I’ve listed the standard parts of the liturgy, but have only included here the pieces I crafted to go with my hymns.

NOTE: Five of the seven hymn texts used are on my CD, To the Tune of a Welcoming God. I have inserted links so you can listen to the CD track for these hymns. The other two are unrecorded, so you’ll need to sing those for yourself!

Prelude – featuring music for the hymns in the service

Warm-up – teaching a couple verses of the first and last hymns (tunes least familiar at Zion)

Welcome

Good morning. I’m David Weiss and I’m delighted to be here as guest worship leader today. If there are other guests in the pews this morning, I extend a warm welcome to you as well. Indeed, we’ll sing that welcome throughout the service.

I expect most of the rest of you have noticed me around Zion now and then. I’ve worshipped here 7 or 8 times over the summer and fall, and I’ve been part of a Wednesday afternoon book group meeting here since mid-May.

You can read a bit more about me in the bulletin. What matters most right now is that I’m a hymnist. I’m no musician. I can’t play an instrument or even read music. I can just barely carry a tune. But I can weave words into poetry that rests powerfully on familiar tunes. So, while the words we sing this morning will be new to you, you’ll recognize most, if not all of the tunes. Which means you can meet these words with confidence because you’ve met these notes before.

As I wrote in my email message yesterday, at their best, hymns are participatory theology. Through themwe breathe our faith, filling our lungs and inviting a Holy Wind to move through our voices as we sing. Aided by rhyme and melody, we invite these sacred stories and images to shape our hearts.

There is nothing cute about this. Hymns invite us into a life-altering, soul-transforming relationship with biblical images … and with the Living God who dwells behind them. You say “rhyme,” I say “revolution.”

I wrote my first hymn text about twenty years ago—as an extension of my writing, teaching, and speaking about the wideness of God’s welcome. It’s a welcome that was often surprising and unsettling in our biblical past and often still is in our sometimes contentious present. This morning we’ll experience how hymns can become occasions where the gracious and welcoming God of our faith meets us in words and music, as a sort of prelude to meeting us in our lives.

I’ll briefly introduce each hymn before we sing it. There are hymn sheets for all the hymns we’re going to sing. Those of you at home have them in the email. Let’s begin.

Our Gathering Hymn is “Now the Welcome.” As we sing, listen for how these words, carried on a breezy tune, help you recognize the welcome of God revealed in Jesus’ ministry; then on the day of Pentecost; then in Peter’s preaching to Cornelius; and finally in the welcome we shout in this place this morning.

Gathering Hymn – “Now the Welcome” (tune: THINE)

Now the Welcome LISTEN HERE

Christ the healer, Christ the host, raising cup in festive toast
Christ the one who sets the feast, Christ the one who calls the least
Christ the holy, Christ the lowly, Christ the teller of new tales,
Christ the bearer of a God who never fails, never fails.

Thus the leper, thus the lame, alleluias both proclaim
Thus the deaf can hear a cry, thus the blind can use their eye
Thus the praying, thus the playing, thus the laughter and the grin
Thus the graciousness of God who gathers in, gathers in.

Then the Spirit, then the Friend, then the mighty Rushing Wind
Then the Wisdom from on high in the tongues of flame come nigh
Then the telling, then the yelling, then the hearing each their own
Then the wideness of God’s love is thus made known, thus made known.

Then the blanket, then the food, Peter’s palate by God wooed
Then the Spirit of the Lord on the Gentiles freely poured
Then the seeing and agreeing and the witness to the rest
Then the op’ning of the church at God’s behest, God’s behest.

Now the wonders, now the signs, mark of God’s surprise designs
Now the mustard seed grown full, now the lamp atop the bowl
Now the thirsting, now the bursting, now the new wine spilling out
Now the welcome of our God hear us shout, hear us shout!

Greeting

Kyrie

Kyrie means “Lord,” and in the Kyrie, we sing “Lord, Have Mercy.” In the traditional Kyrie, we ask for God’s mercy on ourselves, our church, and the whole world. Today, perhaps nothing asks that we pray “Lord, Have Mercy” more than the crisis in our climate—more than ecosystems made fragile by human activity.

Today, as our Kyrie, we’ll use “As the Turn of the World Draws Near,” one of my most recent hymn texts. This song follows the pattern set forth in Joanna Macy’s book Active Hope. She suggests that, when facing challenges so large as this, we begin with gratitude. Then that we dare to allow ourselves to feel the pain of the world around us. Then that we widen our sense of community across generations and across the whole of nature, so that when we act, we feel ourselves held in the hope of all creation.

Written with Minnesota’s corner of creation in my heart, “As the Turn of the World Draws Near” invites us to hear “Lord, Have Mercy,” as Earth’s prayer in this moment. The words are in the bulletin so you can read along as my wife, Margaret, sings this song as a solo, with Mira joining in on the refrain. I hope you can feel yourself praying along as Margaret sings this most crucial Kyrie.

Kyrie – “As the Turn of the World Draws Near” (tune: STAR OF THE COUNTY DOWN, “Canticle of the Turning”)

As the Turn of the World Draws Near

From the diving loon with its haunting tune
to the frogs that are chirping shrill
while the walleye leap and the shy lynx creep
and the bears in their caves sleep still.
The tall pines sway and the foxes play
and the rice rises wild in lakes,
Fill our hearts with song, that we, too, belong
Rouse our souls so we’re wide awake

The day is bright, and the time is right as the dark of the night is clear
That we now uprise from the ground to the skies as the turn of the world draws near.

But the weather’s fraught and the climate caught
and the fabric of life’s undone.
As the earth cries out in an anguished shout
’neath the glare of a blist’ring sun.
The ocean spray voices loud dismay
and the heavens for mercy plead.
Give us hearts to hold all the pain now told
And to follow where it may lead.

The day is bright, and the time is right as the dark of the night is clear
That we now uprise from the ground to the skies as the turn of the world draws near.

As our children yearn for the world to turn
and the poor seek a just new day
Though the time is late, let us turn back fate
Let our hope rise without delay.
To turn the world t’ward a day unfurled
Make a-mends with this fragile dome
Wrap our prayers in flesh, keep our courage fresh,
Give us hope for our only home.

The day is bright, and the time is right as the dark of the night is clear
That we now uprise from the ground to the skies as the turn of the world draws near.

David R. Weiss, b. 1959 © 2021 David R. Weiss
Tune: Traditional Irish STAR OF THE COUNTY DOWN (“Canticle of the Turning”) – public domain

Hymn of Praise

In the Hymn of Praise, we sing about the astonishing good that God has done—for us. The words often encourage us to be audacious in our praise. And this morning we will.

Today’s Hymn of Praise is my Acts 10 hymn. In that passage, Peter has been sent by God to preach to the Gentile, Cornelius, and those in his household. He’s followed there by others in the early church, who wait to see how far Peter will go in welcoming these Gentiles long considered outside the welcome of God. Both Peter and those who came with them are astonished when, after he preaches, the Spirit of God falls not only on the early Christians, BUT ALSO on the Gentiles. It seems God has welcomed them without waiting for the church to make up its mind.

I wrote “We are Your Soil” in 2005 as the ELCA Assembly in Orlando approached. The debate was raging over whether we dared offer a full welcome to LGBTQ persons in our congregations. I was part of a group of Lutherans working for this welcome. We called ourselves “Good Soil.” One of the loudest voices opposing this welcome was a group that sought to counter our claim by calling themselves “Solid Rock Lutherans.”

Well, in this hymn, I bear witness to the fierce faith of the many LGBTQ persons whose company I kept during those years. In this text I create space for them—and the rest of us (exactly as happened in Acts 10)—to sing praise to the God who claims each of us in baptism … who invites each of us to the table … who claims all of us—as Good Soil. This God turns “solid rock” into song. This hymn sings audacious and honest praise to God.

Hymn of Praise – “We are Your Soil” (tune: DU ÄR HELIG, “You are Holy”)

We are your soil LISTEN HERE

Who are we?—Lord, we are yours! We are marked forevermore
By the cross and by the word. In our hearts we’ve been stirred.
Darkness round us, still we sing; To the promise still we cling.
Waiting for the coming dawn; Solid rock turned to song.

We are good soil; we are your soil.
Sow your justice / In Christ’s body still today!
Let compassion fill our lives, Lord.
Rocks and stones, now, / Sing hosanna to our God!

Who are we?—Lord, we are yours! We were baptized at the font,
Water splashing on our face, Marked forever by grace.
Gay and straight, we sing your praise. Bi and trans, our voices raise.
To the feast you bid us dine; Welcome bread, welcome wine.

We are good soil; we are your soil.
Sow your justice / In Christ’s body still today!
Let compassion fill our lives, Lord.
Rocks and stones, now, / Sing hosanna to our God!

Prayer of the Day

O God, your music pulses across the cosmos. Your hymns sound forth throughout creation. As we join our breath to words, and our words to music, and our singing to worship, fill our hearts with the faith we sing. And fill our lives with deeds of faith and love, so that the world hears your music in us. Amen

Sermon

I’m not preaching today. Instead, we’ll sing the sermon together through two hymns. I’ll introduce both, then we’ll sing them, allowing the second to flow right out of the first.

We begin with “Touching Jesus.” I wrote this hymn for the Second Sunday of Easter, when we read the story of Thomas, who needs to touch Jesus in order to believe. He’s often disparaged as “Doubting Thomas,” but I want to ask, “Don’t we all? Don’t we all want to touch Jesus?” And isn’t Thomas’ longing to touch Jesus perhaps a sign of his desire to believe with his hands just as much as with his heart. And isn’t that the type of faith the world needs? So, in this hymn, listen, as we meet the woman with the flow of blood who touched Jesus and was healed; the Samaritan woman who touched Jesus by offering him water; the woman who touched Jesus’ feet with oil; Mary Magdalene who met Jesus in the Garden on Easter morning; and, of course, Thomas. Finally, in verse 6, we meet … ourselves.

Then, as if in response to that verse 6, we’ll move right into “Preserve Uganda’s Future Hope.” I wrote this hymn in 2011, when persecution of LGBTQ persons in Uganda was at a fevered pitch. That year I heard an Anglican bishop from Uganda speak here in the Twin Cities about his ministry: courageously speaking of God’s love in a land where hatred was being stoked—often by evangelical American pastors whose preaching caused countless wounds to the body of Christ. In this hymn we touch the wounds of Jesus in other hands, in distant lands.

In 2013 I traveled to Uganda myself and made some lasting friendships. Today, LGBTQ persons in Uganda continue to be targeted, now by a harsh new law and by the public hostility and hatred that have risen alongside it. There are countless persons whose lives are in danger. But these persons—Moses, Frank, Aisha, Jay, Peter, Stella, Dennis, Ishmael, Stacy, Patra, Ivan, Lillian—these persons I know by name. And I have told them that today we are singing for their safety and for their future.

I picked the tune of “America, the Beautiful” very intentionally. That music has come to swell the warmth of most of our hearts from our youth into our adult years. It raises love inside us and joins that love to the words of that hymn. Well—not least because of the hatred being sown in Uganda by “preachers from our shores”—I wanted that music to be paired with this prayer for Uganda. So that the same love that moves Thomas in his longing to touch Jesus would also be stirred in us as we sing this hymn and pray its refrain again and again. For Moses, Frank, Aisha, Jay, Peter, Stella, Dennis, Ishmael, Stacy, Patra, Ivan, Lillian—and countless others.

Sermon Hymns – “Touching Jesus” (tune: MAITLAND, “Precious Lord”) and “Preserve Uganda’s Future Hope” (tune: MATERNA, “America, the Beautiful”)

Touching Jesus LISTEN HERE

Precious Lord, in my need, many years did I bleed;
I reach out, and I touch – touch your hem.
I am healed, like the rest; lepers cleansed, children blest.
Touch your hem, precious Lord, make me whole!

By the well, as I drew, there to drink, I drank you.
I am down, I am out, I am naught.
But you stop, and you speak; you’re the One whom we seek;
Our lives touch, precious Lord, and I’m whole!

At the edge, of the town, there I knelt, to the ground.
Pour the nard, wipe your feet, with my hair.
While you dine, on the bread, through my tears, see you dead
Precious Lord, fragrant love, in the air!

Easter morn, through my tears, call my name, bring me near,
And I hear, and I look, and I hope.
Over cross, over death, bringing life, drawing breath;
Precious Lord, once again, you are whole!

Easter Eve, I’m away; you were there, but I say,
Let me see, let me touch, let me know.
Once again, there you are; fingertips touch your scars;
In my heart, precious Lord, now I know!

Precious Lord, still your hands, bear your wounds, many lands:
Some are lost, some are least, some are hurt,
Let me touch you in deed, as I touch those in need;
Use my hands, Precious Lord, make them whole!

Text: David R. Weiss, b. 1959 © 2008 David R. Weiss
Tune: MAITLAND (“Precious Lord,” arr. Thomas A. Dorsey, 1899-1993) – public domain

Preserve Uganda’s Future Hope LISTEN HERE

Beneath these bright and gracious skies, where hope is freely lent
Yet children watch through vacant eyes, as families are rent.
Be merciful, bring justice now, O hear our urgent plea:
Preserve Uganda’s future hope, and set her people free.

By missionary zeal first sown, as hearts for Christ were claimed,
But now against its flesh and bone, is hatred thus inflamed
Be merciful, bring justice now, O hear our urgent plea:
Preserve Uganda’s future hope, and set her people free.

O gracious God, take back your word, from preachers on our shores,
Whose lust for blood goes undeterred, and on your children pours
Be merciful, bring justice now, O hear our urgent plea:
Preserve Uganda’s future hope, and set her people free.

In Africa, your soul delights, so make her leaders brave,
And guide the path toward human rights, and all your children save
Be merciful, bring justice now, O hear our urgent plea:
Preserve Uganda’s future hope, and set her people free.

At last may dawn the day we seek, where love has naught to fear
And every lover truth may speak, and find your kin-dom near
Be merciful, bring justice now, O hear our urgent plea:
Preserve Uganda’s future hope, and set her people free.

Text: David R. Weiss, b. 1959 © 2011 David R. Weiss
Tune: Samuel A. Ward, 1847-1903, MATERNA (“America, the Beautiful”) – public domain

Musical Reflection – (With these few more words offered while the music is playing.)

How has it felt for that Holy Wind, the same breath of God that hovered over the waters at the very beginning of all that is—How has it felt for that Breath to be mingled with your own, moving from your lungs across your lips into words this morning? Moses met that Breath as it swirled in the flames of the Burning Bush, and he realized he was on Holy Ground. So are we.

So many times, God’s people have thought to themselves, “Well, everyone is here; we can close the doors now.” And, if the Bible has one persistent theme to it, from Genesis to Jesus, it’s that God is always setting the table for more. Always keeping the door ajar. I said at the start of worship, “I can barely carry a tune.” And I have to confess, when the tune is most fully the tune of that welcoming God, it’s less about carrying it in song than carrying it in life. Somedays, even there, I can barely carry the tune. But I love to sing. And this tune calls me to carry it toward justice with joy. And I am always grateful for those willing to sing with me. In song. In life. In love.

The Prayer of the People

O Singing God, whose song is ever one of welcome, make us a choir that sings welcome in this neighborhood, through our ministries of music and mercy. Wrap in your care—wrap in the kindness of our deeds—all those in this community who face challenges or sorrow. Mark out the music of your justice deep in our souls and deep in our bones, so that across the world and across our lives, justice hums until joy sings out. Amen.

Sharing the Peace

Before we hear the Words of Institution, I invite you to sing them. Borrowing the beautiful tune of the Christmas carol, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” the next hymn, “It was upon a moonlit night,” tells the story of another night, Maundy Thursday. Listen as you sing, for here these verses set Jesus’ words and this meal in the context of Jesus’ lived ministry—of love. Note that at the end of the fourth verse, we’ll go back and sing just one last line, labeled 4b, to carry us from cross to resurrection.

Pre-Communion Hymn “It Was Upon A Moonlit Night” (tune: CAROL, “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear”)

It was upon a moonlit night (Maundy Thursday) LISTEN HERE

It was upon a moonlit night / when Jesus broke the bread;
With friends now gathered at his side / in solemn voice he said,
“For, lo, these many days we have / proclaimed the Kingdom at hand;
In turns: at table, by tale, by touch / we’ve shown God gracious and grand.

“But now the forces of power and hate / make ready to bury this wheat,
Before their deeds are done, my friends / each of you, take and eat.”
Then raising high the cup of wine / he looked the room around
And spoke once more of days now past / of children lost now found.

“My friends, the justice of our God / is sealed in gracious love;
As earth gives freely to the vine / so mercy flows above.
Yet ’gainst the mercy we freely shared / oppression has lengthened its reach.
And now, before my blood is spilled / from this cup, drink of you each.”

With eyes aflame with fear and faith / did Christ thus finish the meal;
And we who gather at his request—rememb’ring, we render it real.
In mercy breaking the bread he gave / in kindness sharing the cup;
In love encount’ring the least of these / and thereby his wounds we bind up.

… In love encount’ring the least of these / and thereby raising Christ up.

Text: David R. Weiss, b. 1959 © 2008 David R. Weiss
Tune: Richard S. Willis, 1819-1900, CAROL (“It Came Upon the Midnight Clear”) – public domain

Lord’s Prayer and Communion

Sending Hymn

With the Sending Hymn we gather up the energy of our whole worship in hope that it might echo in our lives as we head into the coming week. In “Now Sing a New Song,” we draw all creation and all people—in all their diversity—into God’s grace. And we pledge to honor the echo of God’s image in our neighbors. Let’s send ourselves into the week with song.

Sending Hymn “Now Sing a New Song” (tune: SOLI DEO GLORIA)

Now sing a new song

Now sing a new song, let none be still;
Both seas and rivers, both mount and hill.
Let all creation now fill the air;
God’s faithful justice beyond compare;
Now joy incarnate, in Christ declares: