November 9, 2012 /
Awc / Comments Off on Taizé Community – Cantarei ao Senhor
The Taizé Community in France is an ecumenical monastic order of Protestants and Catholics–a “parable of community” that seeks to be a sign of reconciliation between divided Christians and between separated peoples. Taizé songs are intended to support personal prayer, and reveal to us a glimpse of heaven’s joy through the beauty of human voices.
The community is made up of about one hundred brothers. After a time of preparation, a new brother in the Taizé community will make his lifelong commitment. Here are a few of the words used to express this commitment:
…The Lord Christ, in his compassion and his love for you, has chosen you to be in the Church a sign of brotherly love. He calls you to live out, with your brothers, the parable of community.
So, renouncing from now on all thought of looking back, and joyful with boundless gratitude, never fear to run ahead of the dawn, to praise, and bless, and sing Christ your Lord.
Receive me, Lord Christ, and I shall live; may my hope be a source of joy.
From The Lively Morgue—a peek at treasures from the clipping and photo library at the New York Times.
Jan. 20, 1994: “Time Out From a Higher Calling,” read a title on this photograph alongside a story about a group of East Harlem nuns originally from France. Sister Marie Chantal, leaping, and Sister Marie Francesca worked out at the Tae Kwon Do Academy at 828 Ninth Avenue. “The fact that we know tae kwon do doesn’t change anything,” Mother Marie Martha, the group’s mother superior told David Gonzalez, the reporter. “It’s just a sport.”
Today is Election Day in the U.S., and rather than talk about Church and State or rendering unto Caesar, I will do what all good websites must at some point do–post a cat video. Probably time for all of us to share a laugh anyway.
This one is brought to you by J.C. Elliot and Kevin from the Exodus Baptist Sr. High Ministry.
The only time I ever got stopped for speeding was early one Sunday morning when I was driving to church listening to this song. It was surely grace and mercy that kept me getting a ticket, for I do believe that, though I wasn’t going more than 10 miles over the speed limit I was in fact flying. Transported.
I love hearing Bozie Sturdivant sing this song.
But it wasn’t until years later I learned that, while Sturdivant was the first to record “Ain’t No Grave,” the song was actually written by a Pentecostal Holiness preacher named Brother Claude Ely. Listen to his version. It’s the same song, but what a difference! Sturdivant sings like a man pulling against heavy chains. Claude Ely is out to blind Death with a bright light and escape on wings of joy.
So where did this song come from? Claude Ely was born in Pucketts Creek, Virginia in 1922. As an adult he became a traveling revival preacher, driving from city to city. By one account, “He would drive a car, steering it with one hand, and with the other he would announce with a bullhorn, ‘Later tonight at 7:00, I’ll have a tent set up in the middle of town, please come out and experience the fire and Holy Ghost.'” Gladys Presley and her son Elvis went to one of those meetings.
Brother Ely’s ministry and influence spread. He become the first Pentecostal Holiness recording artist signed to a major label for strictly sacred music and songs. “Ain’t No Grave” became so well-known that today it is sometimes credited simply as “traditional,” as it is on Johnny Cash’s posthumous release. Cash’s interpretation of “Ain’t No Grave” has since became the foundation of a global collective art work, The Johnny Cash Project.
“Ain’t No Grave” is one of those songs you can’t believe somebody wrote. There are so many versions and they are so different. Each one powerful, haunting, defiant, triumphant. How can one human creation become the vehicle for all these individual expressions of the collective hope? How can a person be open enough to let that much of the Spirit flow into the world? How can a three-minute song reveal the miracle of the Church–we, though many, are one. One body in Christ.
When the final trumpet sounds, I’ll be getting up, walking around. Ain’t no grave can hold my body down.
Every year it seems more churches are holding Trunk-or-Treat events in their church parking lots. I like holding this sort of event at the church and rolling it all into a big All Saints celebration. Perhaps that’s because one of my childhood memories was going Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF with church friends. I remember going around with orange cardboard boxes, collecting coins for children in need of food and health care. I think I even recognize some of the plastic face masks from this historical slideshow. (And be sure you see the picture of Spiderman and the UNICEF pumpkin.)
The Presbyterian Mission Agency Child Advocacy page explains that Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF and the PC(USA) have long had a special relationship. In 1950 the Reverend Clyde Allison, a Presbyterian minister and curriculum editor, and his wife Mary Emma designed and organized a “kids helping kids” program. “They believed that every child is created and loved by God,” says the Allisons’ son, Monroe. Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF was first introduced to Presbyterian junior high students and subsequently adopted by UNICEF as a fundraiser. Since then the program has raised over $164 million for children around the world.
This quote from singer Iris DeMent who grew up in a Pentecostal family:
“My mom, who sang straight up until the day she died, told me one day: ‘You know, Iris, singing is praying and praying is singing. There ain’t no difference.’ So I think, even though I’ve left the church and moved away from a lot of the things that didn’t do me any good, I continued to pray — and that is singing for me. That’s as close as I get to praying.”
Today is Reformation Sunday and if you found yourself in a Lutheran church (or some of the other Reformed church congregations) you’re likely to have sung “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” The Reformation, of course, was one of the Church’s Great Disagreements that yielded both good things and bad, and eventually resulted in a whole slew of denominations.
Among the many groups born from theological disagreement are the Primitive Baptists. Also known as Hard Shell, or Anti-Mission Baptists, these American Christians split off from other Baptists in the 1800s due to a controversy over missions and the understanding of grace and atonement.
Because they believe the New Testament only commands us to sing, Primitive Baptists do not usually play musical instruments as part of worship. All singing is a cappella. The hymn “O Sing to Me of Heaven” is sung here by a congregation from southwestern Virginia, and is another example of lining out. It’s an ecstatic song about dying and the joys of heaven. When I listen to it, the plainness of the voices, the interplay between the leader and the congregation, and the over-the-top imagery unexpectedly combine to convey strangeness and power. It’s an other-worldly sound.
O Sing to me of Heaven – words: Mary Dana Schindler
O Sing to me of Heaven.
When I am called to die.
Sweet songs of holy ecstasy.
To waft my soul on high.
CHORUS:
There’ll be no sorrow there.
There’ll be no sorrow there.
In Heaven above where all is love.
There’ll be no sorrow there.
When cold and sluggish drops.
Roll off my dying brow.
Break forth in songs of joyfulness.
Let Heaven begin below.
When the last moments come.
O, soothe my dying face.
To catch the bright seraphic gleam.
Which o’er my features play.
Then to my raptured ear.
Let one sweet song be given;
Let music charm me last on earth,
And greet me first in Heaven.
Then round my senseless clay.
Assemble those I love,
And sing of Heaven, delightful Heaven,
My glorious home above.
You’re probably familiar with images of the Old Ship of Zion and the Gospel Train, but in 1957 the Dixie Hummingbirds updated the mode of transportation for the journey to heaven. “Christian’s Automobile” features the incomparable Ira Tucker, who sang with the group for an astonishing 70 years. Like many of the gospel train songs, this one is both serious and playful as the metaphor gets stretched further and further. Tucker tells us
You gotta check on your tires You got a rough road ahead And when you are weary from your journey God will put you to bed….
You’ve gotta check on your lights And see your own faults Stop while you can see them, children Or your soul will be lost….
But my favorite image comes at the end, when Tucker sings:
And I’m not worried About my parking space I just want to see, See my Savior face to face
What better way to express “I go to prepare a place for you” and the hope of the beatific vision at the time when Americans dreamed of seeing the U.S.A. in a Chevrolet.
