Hallelujah, The Canadian Tenors (album), The Canadian Tenors (artists)
(available on iTunes)
I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
In all things, praise the Lord,
Every day and every night, praise the Lord,
There is no one beyond the reach and love of God
Not me, not you.
New Sound of Silence
(Disturbed, The Sound of Silence, Immortalized, 2015)
The metal band Disturbed recently released their version of Simon and Garfunkel’s The Sound of Silence. Instead of quiet despair it’s an agonizing scream raging against the many surface distractions that keep all of us from true conversation and connection. To rephrase the lyrics, only fools miss the glaring truth that withdrawal from the voices of others is a cancer that threatens communal life – individuals and groups. It’s one of the most sincere prayers I’ve heard lately.
What we say matters, how we say it matters even more. What we listen to and for matters; how we respond matters just as much. Do I look for the words of the prophets on subway walls and tenement halls, or do I notice only the glowing neon advertisements asking nothing of me but my money and passivity? With shots taking lives in nightclubs and on sidewalks, I can’t afford to turn a deaf ear.
Still, small voices guide us to truth. Prophetic warnings writ large remind us to love God and neighbor. Silence can be holy or smothering, depending on why we hold it. Silence can hold our restless, distracted souls still long enough to feel the love of God surrounding us. Silencing the cries of others through apathy is a sure road to a hell of our own making.
Music can help us hear the cries of others and the longing for true communion that lives in our very souls. Here are a few lines that move me:
Won’t you help to sing these songs of freedom?
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. (Bob Marley, Redemption Song)
One love, ya’ll.
My wandering got my ass wondering where Christ is in all this crisis.
It might feel good, it might sound a little something, but f*** the game if it don’t mean nothing.
God takes care of old folks and fools. (Public Enemy, He Got Game)
Is there anybody’s children can tell me, what is the soul of a man?
Was teaching the lawyers and the doctor that a man ain’t nothing but his mind.
I read the Bible often, I try to read it right. As far as I can understand, is nothing but a burnin’ light.
When Christ taught in the temple, the people all stood amazed, was teaching the lawyers and the doctors how to raise a man from the grave. (Bruce Cockburn, Soul of a Man)
Make your own list of songs with lines that break the sound of silence for you. I’d love to hear them…
(Simon and Garfunkel, The Sound of Silence, Best of Simon and Garfunkel)
Sing to the Lord a new song, all the earth. Psalm 96
Open our mouth and fill it with your praise, that we may be able without distraction to sing and confess that you are God, glorified in all and by all, the eternal Father, with your only begotten Son, and your all holy, good, and life giving Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages.
Open our mouth, not my mouth. It’s a wonderful truth that the Orthodox tradition has honored far better than other Christian traditions: every act of prayer or praise is always an act done in the company of others, even when done by a single person alone. How can this be?
Although I don’t think about it very often, I do nothing alone. Everyone who came before me in my family tree lives in my genes and in my upbringing. My grandfather who whistled and had a great reverence for the written word; my grandmother who kept a spotless house and a growing garden; my father whose deep faith supported my own, even without words; my mother who gave me breath and form, but knew that God authored my life. Without them and countless others long forgotten, I would not pray and praise because I would not be alive.
I can thank God for the blessings in my life, but only partially. I’m too small and limited to see the breadth of grace that holds my life. But I can add my own unique voice to the others who pray and praise. Through my words, they speak. Through their faith, I can praise my infinite God. The many speak as one, the one prays for the many. It isn’t a mathematical truth, but it’s a mystical one. I for one (and with many) am grateful for it.
For the complete prayer, click on Prayer of Saint Basil above.
Enlighten the eyes of our understanding and raise up our minds from the heavy sleep of indolence.
If Saint Basil had left off the last two words, it would be a simple request: wake me from sleep, body and mind. But he added “of indolence,” making it a whole different kind of request. It isn’t my nightly sleep that I need to leave behind, it’s the spiritual laziness that darkens my thoughts and makes me blind to the sacred life God has given me. It’s Pink Floyd’s comfortably numb existence: going through the motions, playing the game, climbing the ladder, taking meds or that second and third drink. I can live my life awake and aware on the outside all the while asleep to my true, deep self.
Leaving the heavy sleep of indolence behind has its price. Awake, I see this beautiful, broken world. I can’t reduce others to bit players in my life’s drama, props to move my story along and support my starring role. I am awake to the terrible holiness of every person, and my own part in their life’s play in God’s good creation. Life isn’t about me when I’m awake; I am about Life.
If I pray these words, God will answer my prayer. Do I want to be awake? I do, with God’s help.
For the complete prayer, click Prayer of Saint Basil above.
We bless you, O God, most high and Lord of mercy. You are always doing great and inscrutable things with us, glorious and wonderful, and without number. You grant us sleep for rest from our infirmities, and repose from the burdens of our much toiling flesh. We thank you, for you have not destroyed us with our sins, but have continued to love us; and though we were sunk in despair, you have raised us up to glorify your power. Therefore, we implore your incomparable goodness. Enlighten the eyes of our understanding and raise up our minds from the heavy sleep of indolence. Open our mouth and fill it with your praise, that we may be able without distraction to sing and confess that you are God, glorified in all and by all, the eternal Father, with your only begotten Son, and your all holy, good, and life giving Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen. [Daily Prayers for Orthodox Christians (Brookline, Massachusetts: The Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1986), pp. 9-10]
Therefore, we implore your incomparable goodness. Line Five
We are created by a God who loves us. Our shortcomings can’t separate us from God’s love. The worst parts of us don’t condemn us to isolation – even these God can transform, granting us compassion and teaching us to do the same for others. So we ask God for the grace and power to live our lives in such trust that our broken selves reveal God’s love and compassion. Such a serious request, asking for divine incomparable goodness to fill our hearts so full that it becomes our goodness offered to others. Such a wonderful, hopeful, blessed way to begin the day.
It’s a day to remember those who died. Graves with fresh flowers, parades in small towns, and patriotic songs. For the first time, my father is remembered rather than remembering. My mother, sister, brothers, and aunt will each honor the memory of my father.
Years ago, I gave him a couple of books by Dietrich Bonhoeffer – Ethics and The Cost of Discipleship. We had a few conversations about Bonhoeffer’s life, especially his participation in a plot to assassinate Hitler. Was this against his faith (he had been in favor of Gandhi’s non-violent approach to change)? Was Bonhoeffer wrong to condone assassination, even participate in its attempt? My father didn’t think so. His comment:
“He had to choose between killing a murderer or allowing a murderer to keep killing. He did what he could live with and paid the price for it.”
We had many other talks about God and living in this imperfect world. On this day of remembrance, I thank God for seeing in my father a living Christian faith. It was an honor to know him.
We thank you, for you have not destroyed us with our sins, but have continued to love us; and though we were sunk in despair, you have raised us up to glorify your power.
Prayer of Saint Basil, line 4
What are my sins? If I think of sins as specific acts or thoughts, the list isn’t short. But I don’t think that’s the real issue. Sin seems to be closer to missing the point, losing sight and direction; when I miss the point, I might see the harm I do my neighbor and myself as sinful, but I might not see the missing-the-point that gives it birth.
One of the ways I miss the point: mistaking my worth with the work of my hands. If I see my value only in my accomplishments, I’ll do my best to make myself indispensable. I’ll neglect everything that takes time from achieving, damaging family and friends. I’ll make sure to foster dependence rather than foster cooperative independence in my work. I’ll want my absence noticed, even if others suffer for it. I’ll destroy myself and others if I don’t feel valuable enough, and I’ll never fell valuable enough.
I can’t see this missing-the-point sin unless I know that it’s me who’s irreplaceable, not my work. Someone else can do my work, and the work I do should strengthen others rather than weaken them. The same is true for everyone else, too. Every single one of us is valuable and unique, loved by God for being, not doing. It’s the truth that lifts us from despair into joy. It frees us to offer our talents and support the talents of others.
Each one of us is irreplaceable, but someone else can do our job. Glory be to God!
For the complete prayer, click Prayer of Saint Basil above.
You grant us sleep for rest from our infirmities, and repose from the burdens of our much toiling flesh.
Many babies have a fussy hour every evening. Being rocked or walked helps sometimes, but sometimes it doesn’t. There’s nothing to do but wait for it to pass into peaceful sleep.
As we age, our feet hurt and our joints stiffen toward dusk. Getting dinner ready and putting in that last load of laundry take more effort than breakfast prep and the first load did. If we listen to our bodies, we put off whatever work we can until morning. When we don’t, we get short with children and spouses – our self-inflicted fussy hour. With life wisdom, we do our best to stop fretting as we get closer to bedtime. Without it, we bring our fretful frustration to bed with us.
Restful sleep is the letting go of the day, handing over the good and bad to God (or an oblivion, unconscious, or collective dreamscape if God isn’t acceptable). Problems get reworked and resolved if necessary, and dreams enrich the passing of the night hours. This recharging of body, mind, and soul seems to be done without effort. How wonderful that a biological necessity grants passage to an enchanted world.
Anxious sleep lets go of all the good in the day, but keeps a choke hold on mistakes and disappointments – masochistic treasures of our much toiling minds. Sleep may come with pharmaceutical or alcoholic help, but passing out isn’t the same as rest, and a drug induced stupor drains mind and soul instead of refreshing them.
There’s wisdom in physical labor that brings relief to its own exhaustion in sound sleep.
There’s wisdom in the hard work of spiritual and emotional growth that allows us to skip or leave behind our adult fussy hour. Such physical and spiritual labor doesn’t get much respect or positive press these days. How is it that something so fundamental is disregarded, even discouraged?
You are always doing great and inscrutable things with us, glorious and wonderful, and without number.
I am aware of glorious and wonderful things that God does for me every morning I wake up to family and friends, every afternoon I work in the garden, every evening when the stars shine in heaven above. But with us isn’t the same thing as for us. I’m sure God is always doing great and inscrutable things with me/us, but usually I don’t look for them. With means working together, not one giving and the other getting. With means cooperation and taking responsibility, perhaps even partial credit, for the innumerable wonders that come into the world through us/God with us.
This is the second line of this 1600 year old prayer, and the second one that’s shaken me. If I take it seriously, if I really pray these words, there is no going back. I’ll see the great and inscrutable things God is doing with us in people I love and people I don’t even like. Not just a few things I can count on one hand (exceptions), but so many that they are without number (commonplace).
Lord, give me courage to pray these revolutionary words.
Prayer of Saint Basil
We bless you, O God, most high and Lord of mercy. You are always doing great and inscrutable things with us, glorious and wonderful, and without number. You grant us sleep for rest from our infirmities, and repose from the burdens of our much toiling flesh. We thank you, for you have not destroyed us with our sins, but have continued to love us; and though we were sunk in despair, you have raised us up to glorify your power. Therefore, we implore your incomparable goodness. Enlighten the eyes of our understanding and raise up our minds from the heavy sleep of indolence. Open our mouth and fill it with your praise, that we may be able without distraction to sing and confess that you are God, glorified in all and by all, the eternal Father, with your only begotten Son, and your all holy, good, and life giving Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen.
[Daily Prayers for Orthodox Christians (Brookline, Massachusetts: The Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1986), pp. 9-10]
Bless You!
We bless you, O God, most high and Lord of mercy.
When my niece Jill was a few months old, well before she could walk or talk, she used to do something that I’ve never forgotten. When I held her on my shoulder, she would reach her hand up to pat me on the back. The kindness in her simple act of extending a comforting hand moved me to tears many times – giving back a loving touch she received so often from me and many others. It’s a blessed memory I’ve treasured for almost thirty years.
I’ve never blessed God before. I’ve always been on the receiving end. After all, what good could my blessing do? But I think I’ll say these words, anyway. If God is as touched as I was by Jill’s gesture, it would be a blessing indeed.
To read the whole prayer, click on Prayer of Saint Basil.