Don’t Let it Die Out

Today I had the opportunity to preach at my church. Here is the sermon I gave.

The two texts were Jeremiah 35 and 1 Corinthians 15: 1-8.

There was a craftsman who was getting old, his eyes and hands noticeably deteriorating, and clearly recognized that he only had a few years of plying his beloved trade left. He’d bought a sturdy foot-pedal and hand-crank powered machine that was now over a century old. It had served him well over the years and was still in perfectly good condition, and he wanted to hand it on to his daughter, but she wasn’t interested. This made him sad, that the art he had dedicated his life to was dying out in the modern world. He decided to offer the machine up for sale on an online bazaar at a reasonably low cost, thinking that perhaps someone who used to work in the industry would want to pick it up again as a hobby and delay the disappearance of his craft by a few years. A few days later, he is contacted by an interested party and they arrange to meet.

A middle-aged man and his twenty-year-old son arrive and carry the heavy machine to their car in two parts. Out of politeness, the artisan asks which of them will be using the machine, and to his surprise, it is the twenty-year-old son that is the enthusiast, and sees the machine as the ideal stepping stone as he builds his own artisanal business. With joy in his eyes, the old master explains the capabilities and foibles of the machine, tricks and tips for looking after it and getting the most out of it, where to get materials and spare parts, finding that the young man is already familiar with and excited by a lot of what he has to say, and has already built up an impressive portfolio of work that he’s done by hand. His beloved art will continue and thrive, and the classical machine still has a long and fruitful life ahead of it.

This isn’t just a story, it happened two weeks ago. I was the middle-aged man, my second son the young man, and it was a beautiful thing to witness.

As time goes by, many things can be forgotten and lost to history, such as highly specialised knowledge or skillsets, eyewitness accounts of events, fragile works of art, complex cultural rituals, ways of life, or loving communities.

These two passages are about people actively preserving traditions down through the generations, the first reports on the Recabites faithfully maintaining their family tradition of practising abstinence and self-denial without a fixed roof over their heads, to build up self-control and reliance on God rather than trusting in wealth or seeking short-term thrills or relief from their troubles, staying true and faithful in lesser things as an example to the rest of Israel who had abandoned a much more important authority than their ancestor on much more important matters than what to drink or where to live.

The second passage is also about actively preserving a tradition, but something far more important. This time it is not about maintaining a traditional lifestyle, but about ensuring that a key piece of knowledge is not forgotten, key pieces of evidence of the most significant event in human history, a list of eyewitnesses to the resurrection.

Scholars date 1 Corinthians to have been written at around 54 to 55 AD, only twenty to twenty-five years after the crucifixion, and Paul introduces it as passing on what he had recieved, the formula for presenting an established liturgical tradition, so it has to originate very soon after the events themselves, at most only a few years, most likely practically immediately afterwards, almost certainly from the Jerusalem church. This is something we can rely on, thanks to the efforts of many people to preserve this knowledge down through the generations and ages. Can you imagine the excitement, the joy in their eyes as they passed down this life-changing knowledge to the ones they cared about, to anyone that would listen? We are part of that long chain, sharing that revolutionary life-changing truth and adding our own experiences.

Just because something is written down doesn’t mean it will be remembered, we need to bring that knowledge to life by actively sharing it, demonstrating it, living it. Of course God is able to save people without us, but He loves to involve us in his work, and it is so good for us and so exciting to be part of His Great Commission.

It’s easy to think that because we have so many written records that are easily accessible online, knowledge is not being lost, but unfortunately that’s not true. Not only because far from everything that has ever been known was actually recorded, far from everything that has ever been written is actually available online, but also because not all knowledge is book knowledge, not all knowledge is a matter of information. Some knowledge and skills are never shared, and dies with the individual or group that discovered or developed it. Some skills are lost to time because there has been a lack of interest in preserving them, perhaps they are seen as outdated and irrelevant. What knowledge, what skills are still around in small measures but are in danger of being forgotten?

The ability to slow down and be patient; with everything so fast nowadays, instant answers and reports available 24/7, the prestige of being first to share new information ad developments, there is strong pressure to react immediately to initial reports instead of taking the time to see the issue from multiple angles, absorb more information that is less sensational and evaluate things with a cooler head, to take the time to make a careful choice instead of giving in to the ‘urgent need to Do Something!’.

The ability to truly stop and listen with a desire to understand rather than catch someone out, to simply be there for someone and be a blessing to them without having anything to prove, to discuss a difficult topic with someone with the goal of finding the truth together instead of proving yourself right. In the middle ages, it was standard practise that to earn the right to criticise a person’s position, you had to describe it to them to their satisfaction. Can you imagine that today? Today it’s fashionable to just present a grotesque or ludicrous caricature of someone’s position and castigate them for it.

There’s also a growing trend of intellectual laziness, encouraged by the ever more sensationalist media, to look for the gotcha moment that proves what the other side has been trying to hide all this time, that they are truly evil or stupid and we can safely condemn and ignore everything they have to say.

It’s a principle that Lenin advocated for that has slowly infected almost all public discourse: “The central question of politics is who whom” i.e. Anything done by our side to theirs is courageous justice, anything done by their side to ours is a despicable evil.

Why has this been so successful? Because it’s easy. You can look like a hero without doing anything brave. You can look like you’re fighting evil without ever taking any real risks. You never have to acknowledge your own faults or guilt. This is based on the horrific premise that mutually beneficial relationships don’t exist, all are nothing but relentless pitiless struggles for power, that love is just manipulation, self-sacrifice is foolishness and forgiveness stupid.

This idea of course didn’t originate with Lenin, or even Marx, of course. The Apostle Paul noted something similar in his letter to the Galatians (5:19-23):

The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

I’d much rather be guided by a quote from a more enlightened Russian writer, Alexander Solzhenitzin:

“The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart — and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained”

The fight against evil begins inside each one of us, and cannot be won without His sacrifice, His life flowing through us. Nobody is a lost cause, for as long as they are alive. Our God has redeemed the worst of us. Let’s continue that joyful tradition of gently witnessing to them, being there for them, demonstrating and offering that beautiful new life.

Let’s take a step back from the rush to react, the rush to condemn, to offer a quick fix. Take the time to truly listen, truly be vulnerable, truly love like Christ.

Who knows, you might be part of the even more joyful tradition of witnessing an old love for God restored, or a new relationship with God begin.

In the hands of a master, even an old forgotten machine can create wonderful new works of art.

Dominus Dixit

This is the other song I was commissioned to write, and is much more ambitious in its scope, in that it requires at least six parts, so would take a very brave musical group to attempt it. The initial tale was of a last Christmas mass being held in a crumbling church before its scheduled demolition and conducted by an aging traditionalist priest being pushed into retirement by a young ‘progressive’ bishop. Instead of simply retelling it in song, I expanded it into a dramatic Valjean/Javert-style confrontation between the two complete with a narrator, congregation and angelic chorus, plus some basic stage direction. 

Dominus Dixit

Narrator:

The town abounds with Christmas cheer
As we near that time of year;
But at the church upon the hill,
There’s little seasonal goodwill.

With wrinkles on his hands
An old priest humbly stands
Before a younger bishop
Who has ambitious plans:

Bishop:

“I don’t care about tradition,
This is now the modern age;
We’ll knock down this crumbling mission
And then turn a whole new page,

“We’ll build a towering school of philosophy
To break tradition’s chains and set men free;
No more chants of stale encrusted liturgy,
We will march on forward to modernity.”

Priest:

“No, we will not change a thing,
We’ll be here and we will simply sing
Gloria Patri, et Filio,
et Spiritui Sancto.”

Bishop:

“You’ve got one more week, then I can have you replaced
To give this place a welcome change of pace;
People who’ll follow the trends of fashionable thought
And make all the changes that they ought.”

Priest:

“No, we must not change a word
Of what two thousand years has stood;
Foundations must not be destroyed
Or else, we fall into the void.”

Bishop:

“I’ll give you one more chance to prove me wrong,
To keep up with the times and show you belong
To this age of progress, wonders to behold
With your midnight mass, don’t leave me cold.”

Narrator:

The priest retreats to his small room,
Falls to his knees and in the gloom
All week he cries out fervently
With tears and pain and urgency:

Priest:

“Am I blind to the signs of the times,
Or is this the world that I must fight?
“What can I do? What can I say?
How can I find the narrow way?

“Your saints worked through the centuries
Should we be more than mere trustees
Of what they all have handed down;
Dare we resculpt their holy crown?

“My faith is weak, my body frail,
But in You I cannot fail;
I will stand on what I know
You have approved for us to sow.

“Give me strength and wisdom, too
To know what You would have me do.
Let not my slowing mind obscure
Your loving heart, so true and pure.”

Narrator:

The day arrives, all is prepared,
Though some things could not be repaired;
The wooden crèche is incomplete,
Its heralds missing from their seats.

The bishop notices and scoffs,

Bishop:

“Tradition clings to what is lost.
The angels have abandoned you,
A sign so clear it could get through

“Your hard old head to see your fault:
Look at this decaying vault,
‘Tis only fit to be torn down
And something better for this town

Built in its place to serve their needs,
Not merely chant outdated creeds.”

Priest:

“You’ve made it clear, you’ve had your say
Now let me have my final day.”

Narrator:

A handful of old congregants
Sit in nervous cognizance
Of what hangs over this old hall;
The priest stands from his old oak stall.

The bishop sits with a scornful look
As the priest reads from his gilded book:

Priest:

Dóminus dixit ad me:
Fílius meus es tu;
ego hódie génui te.

Narrator:

Some try to read and sing along
With tired notes that come out wrong.
They falter, stop in shame and groan
Until he is again alone.

Priest:

Quare fremuérunt gentes,
et pópuli meditáti
sunt inánia?

Narrator:

Disheartened he begins to slow
And his surrender starts to show,
Then as he sings the next few words,
Two voices from above are heard:

Angels:

Gloria Patri, et Filio,
et Spiritui Sancto.

{Melody} {Angelic harmony}
Narrator: Angels:
The congregation looks around
To find the source of this sweet sound
Inspired by this heavenly noise
All those present add their voice.
Sicut erat in principio
et nunc et semper
et in saecula
saeculorum. Amen.

{All voices: Melody plus angelic harmonies, an additional (ordinary) harmony joins in on ‘Quare’, ‘Gloria’ and ‘Sicut, to represent the congregation gaining more confidence and strength in their singing.}

Dóminus dixit ad me:
Fílius meus es tu;
ego hódie génui te.
Quare fremuérunt gentes,
et pópuli meditáti
sunt inánia?
Gloria Patri, et Filio,
et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio
et nunc et semper
et in saecula
saeculorum. Amen.

{Above repeats with additional bass voice(s)}

Narrator:

When the chorus is complete and each eye sheds joyful tears
And hearts are moved by beauty like they haven’t been in years,
Many search in vain for whence those voices came
That lit their souls on fire with a bright eternal flame.

The balconies were empty, the vestries were unmanned,
There’s nothing in the doorways that could make a sound so grand.
The bishop, shaken to his core, desperate to find out more,
Rushes up some spiral stairs to find beside some broken chairs

Up in the loft are standing two carved wooden figurines;
The angels from the crèche had not abandoned them it seems.
Contrition overwhelms him and he falls onto his knees,
Confessing sins and attitudes and making humble pleas,

Then carries the two angels down to put them in their place
To herald the Lord’s coming with self-sacrificial grace.
The old priest welcomes him back and together they will stand
To proclaim the Christmas message to this precious, blessed land.