Song of the Week

Rush/"Force Ten'/Hold Your Fire

                   Hold Your Fire is one of Rush's most critically underrated albums of all time.  To many fans enamored with the band's grandiose, "proggy" late 70s and early 80s output, Hold Your Fire and other late 80s works like Power Windows and Presto seem like a sellout and a decline in the quality of the band's work.  However, from a compositional standpoint, Hold Your Fire is actually more mature and arguably more complex in its songwriting than the band's early, more recognizably progressive rock efforts; although Rush transitioned to using more standard, accessible song structures as time went on, they also incorporated more layers of sound than ever before, enhancing harmonies with synthesizer washes and multiple vocal tracks.  Furthermore, whereas Rush's early work included very little variations on repeated themes - the verse of a song might be repeated three times with practically no variation (excluding lyrics), for instance - Hold Your Fire shows the band reaching the apex of an era in which they incorporated more variation in their treatment of themes, making the songs more compositionally deep and interesting.  The album's upbeat, energetic opener "Force Ten" perfectly exemplifies these trends in Rush's compositional style.

Moral Opposition to Same-Sex Activity Doesn't Make You Anti-Gay

               It just doesn't.  The idea that those of us who consider same-sex activity to be immoral are somehow "anti-gay" bigots who diminish the value of their fellow human beings is, to put it bluntly, a load of bull.

               

               Certainly, there are many people in this world who both consider same-sex activity to be sinful and also harbor distrust, animosity, and just plain hate for LGBT people.  Prejudice is real and exists in many forms among many people today.  This cannot be denied.  But simple logic does not allow us to conclude that since some traditional morality advocates are bigots, all of them or most of them must be bigots.  If one is to accuse these people of bigotry, it must be proven that there is something inherently bigoted in moral opposition to same-sex activity, and once the propaganda shoved in our face by the media is overthrown, it becomes clear that there is not.

                

               Simply, believing another person's behavior to be immoral or wrong is not the same as harboring any hostility toward the person himself.  Similarly, declaring that particular behavior to be wrong is not the same as verbally attacking a person who practices the behavior.  This goes for any behavior, be it sexual, substance-related, or dealing with any other realm of ethics.  Indeed, if it were necessary to be prejudiced against every person who practiced behaviors that, in your eyes, were immoral, you would have very few friends indeed!

                

               Take smoking for an example.  You or I might believe smoking to be wrong; "It is harmful to one's health," we might say, or, "It is bothersome to others."  If we held this ethical position, we would most likely seek to abstain from smoking in our own lives.  In conversations we might iterate our opinions on the matter; if we had close friends who were smokers, we might advise them to quit.  However, we would not necessarily have any prejudice against people who smoked merely because of our opposition to smoking.  We would probably still have friends who were smokers.  We would not necessarily think less of them or harbor any resentment towards them because of their habit; we would simply realize that we could not affirm a certain behavior practiced by those friends, and that would be that.  From this example, it is easy to see that one can criticize a particular behavior without attacking those who practice it.

                

               However, this does not solve the whole problem, because it is not fair to LGBT people to compartmentalize their lives from the outside, identifying certain components of their lives as mere behaviors that do not influence our perception of the persons themselves.  The problem is not merely one of behavior, but one of identity, and sexuality is a deeply ingrained component of human identity, tied to our deepest desires and our most ancient urges.  Many heterosexuals do not often think about the place sexuality holds in their sense of self; it is easy to take for granted, just as it is easy to take other normal aspects of one's identity for granted.  However, because those with homosexual orientations are in the minority in western civilization, and because these people have traditionally been marginalized and oppressed, and also because the issue of homosexuality is such a pressing one in today's culture, many LGBT people put a great focus on the sexual component of their identity, as has been the case with many other movements centered around minorities for centuries.  From this perspective, it is easy to see why an argument against the morality of same-sex activity could appear to be an attack, not merely on a behavior, but on one's innermost identity. 

                

               Although these circumstances make the vehement reactions often seen towards moral conservatism more emotionally understandable, they still do not, from a rational perspective, delegitimize arguments against the morality of same-sex activity.  For all behaviors, all beliefs, all urges, all desires are ultimately wrapped up in the identity of the individual who practices and holds them, and although some of these components of the self, depending on the disposition and situation of the person, are held and treasured more strongly than others, all play some part in the formation of the human identity; whether innate and inborn or nurtured or chosen, for a person is as much born as he is made and as much made as he is born.  If every component of every person's identify is immune from criticism, then no moral statement can ever be made.  Also, it is clear that a person's identity - or their perception of it - is not the same as another person's perception of him.  Things about yourself that you hold very dear might be of no consequence to a friend; other things that you barely notice may bring you great endearment from others.  This is not an evil thing but is merely a fact of life; no one can understand another perfectly and no one can fully embrace the whole of another's identify, for that would be to lose one's own individuality.  Therefore, in order that humans might interact, we come to the understanding that we each may ignore, overlook, or critique particular components of the identity of another without, per se, doing the same to their person.

                

                In order to illustrate this, another example will be helpful.  Religious faith is a defining aspect of the identities of many people, just as much as sexuality defines the identities of others, and yet it would be ridiculous to suggest that thinking another person's religion to be false is somehow an attack on the person himself.  A Christian and a Muslim, for example, might each consider another's faith to be founded upon lies but can still be friends with each other and engage each other in dialogue about religious and other issues.  As a Christian, I believe Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, and all other faiths to be false religions, but that does not make me anti-Muslim, anti-Hindu, anti-Buddhist, or anti-Jew.  Similarly, if someone were to tell me that they considered my religion to be false, I would not act as if they had insulted me but rather would attempt to engage their viewpoint.  The same should be the case for discussing matters of sexuality.  We should be able to differ on matters that involve our practices and behaviors, beliefs and opinions, and even the innermost cores of our identities, and yet treat each other with love, not defining others by their sexuality but by their status as fellow human beings (and, from a Christian perspective, as beings created in God's image) who deserve our respect.

Fear and Fear Not

               I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that have nothing more that they can do.  But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell.  Yes, I tell you, fear him!  Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  And not one of them is forgotten before God.  Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear not, you are of more value than many sparrows.

                                                                  

                                                                            Luke 12:4-7

                

               No transition, no explanation, no harmonization.  In this passage, it looks like Jesus has flat-out contradicted himself.  Fear.  Fear not.  What is one to do?  Jesus has said weird things before, but at least they made sense; this saying makes no sense; it both warns and comforts, telling listeners to be afraid of God and to fearlessly trust Him.  Has Jesus gone off the deep end?  Is He just trying to confuse His disciples?

               

               At first glance, the easy way to explain this passage would be to say that Jesus is telling His followers to fear the Devil but to put their trust in God.  But this is clearly an incorrect reading; Satan certainly seeks to destroy God's people but he has no authority; he can only go so far as God permits him.  The Devil certainly does not have "authority to cast into hell," for he himself is cast into the pit.  No, the one with the authority to condemn to hell, who Jesus warns his listeners to fear, is none but God Himself.

                               So how can this be, that we must fear and not fear God, cower from Him and yet trust in Him?  This tension exists not only in this passage; we hear Old Testament believers commanded again and again to fear God, and Peter exhorts New Testament saints to do the same (1 Peter 2:17).  Yet the angels who announce the incarnation cry "Do not be afraid" (Luke 1-2); Jesus, after He has calmed the storm, asks His disciples, "Why are you so afraid?" (Mark 4:40); and John writes that "Perfect love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18).  So this is the tension of our relationship to God in Scripture.  We are to fear and fear not.  Love fully and be fully afraid.  This tension is summed up perfectly in Luther's explanation of the first commandment, that we must "fear, love, and trust in God above all things."

               

                This contradiction can only be explained if we learn to properly divide Law and Gospel.  For although it seems ridiculous to both fear and love God, the precious doctrine of Law and Gospel makes us realize how this is both possible and salutary.  Let us consider briefly the above passage, in which Jesus exhorts His listeners to both fear and not fear God.  The first part of this saying is Law.  Christ warns his disciples not to fear the wrath of men, who can kill with an earthly blow, but rather to fear the wrath of God, who commands both soul and body.  Because of our sins, we must fear the wrath of God, for He is just; He hates sin, and evil cannot stand in His presence.  It is as if Jesus had said, "Do not fear the displeasure and wrath of men; they are displeased about many things and able to punish on account of their displeasure, but the harshest wound they can inflict is an earthly death.  Rather, fear the displeasure of God, who sees your sins and knows your heart.  He is perfectly just, but you are sinful and deserving of His eternal wrath.  Therefore, fear Him!"

                

                 This saying rightly strikes fear into the human spirit, infusing us with anxiety and cutting to our hearts.  Like the Jews in Jerusalem listening to Peter's sermon, we shudder at this word and ask, "What shall we do?" (Acts 2:37).  But Jesus, having struck at His listeners with the Law, does not delay but immediately follows up with the good news of the Gospel to free us from the Law.  Christ turns the previous saying on its head; He has already reminded us that God, who knows everything, is to be feared because He has the authority to condemn body and soul.  But now He tells us also that God, being conscientious of all things, will not forsake us but will be ever watchful of our well being, and therefore we must trust in Him.  What?  Did Jesus not just say that God's power and omniscience ought to strike fear into our hearts?  Why, now, does He declare the same qualities to provoke love, trust, and fearlessness?  Ah, it is because this fear, far from driving us away from God, causes us to seek the salvation that can only be found in Him.  The Law rightly frightens us, but, when followed by the Gospel, drives us straight into the loving arms of our savior, Jesus Christ.  The very God whom you once rightly feared, says Jesus, will yet soothe your fears and provide for all your needs, as He once again repeats later in chapter 12: "Consider the ravens, they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them.  Of how much more value are you than the birds!" (Luke 12:24)

                

                  It is no accident, therefore, that Christ uses the analogy of the birds to illustrate the fearless trust God desires us to have in Him.  We, while we still strive to appease God and to make ourselves right with him through our deeds, ought to fear Him, for He sees each one of our deeds and knows that every one of our sins is deserving of hell.  But when like the birds we cease our fruitless efforts; when, by the grace of God, we trust in Him alone and not in our works, then there is no fear, for God forgives all of our sins by His grace and provides all that we need for both body and soul.  It is as if Jesus had said, "The very same one, however, who has authority to destroy body and soul also has authority and power to preserve them.  Your works can only merit destruction, but through faith you can be saved, as the sparrows, living not by works, but by trust, are protected by their Maker."

               

                  For we cannot save ourselves by our works, but only Christ's perfect works - His sinless life, atoning death, and triumphant resurrection - can accomplish salvation and ensure that we, God's precious sheep, will be fed with the Bread of Life and clothed with the Robe of Righteousness.  When we grow complacent or self-righteous, tempted to trust in ourselves, the Law inspires fear in us, but that fear drives us, not to despair, but to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the one who takes us under his wings and drives away our doubt and anxiety.  For it is not our imperfect love, but His perfect love that truly casts out fear, for

In Christ alone
My hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song.
This cornerstone,
This solid ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love,
What depths of peace,
When fears are stilled,
When strivings cease,
My comforter,
My all in all,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

Luther Quotation from Luther's Small Catechism, published by Concordia Publishing House, hymn quotation from "In Christ Alone" by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend.

The Storehouse of Salvation

When all the land of Egypt was famished, the people cried to Pharaoh for bread.  Pharaoh said to all the Egyptians, "Go to Joseph.  What he says to you, do."  So when the famine had spread over all the land, Joseph opened all the storehouses and sold to the Egyptians, for the famine was severe in the land of Egypt.  Moreover, all the earth came to Egypt to Joseph to buy grain, because the famine was severe over all the earth.

                                           -  Genesis 41:55-57

                

             Just as Pharaoh answers the starving Egyptians by exhorting them to go to Joseph, so also the Father to his famished children who cry to Him for sustenance answers: "Go to Jesus!  For in Him you will find true bread and true drink indeed, the Bread and the Water of Life, which is His very self; even His own body and His very blood He will pour out for your sustenance.  For in Him there is forgiveness, life and salvation in plenty."  When all Israel was famished for God's salvation, having travailed under the law for many generations, lost once in their idolatry, again in their sexual immorality, once more in their hypocrisy and self-righteousness, in the famine of sin which leads to the desolation of death, Christ opened the storehouses of grace with His precious blood, raining down upon His people the water and the blood flowing from His side for their salvation.  Having humbled Himself to the point of servitude to all, even to the point of washing His disciples feet, yea, even to the point of entering the dark prison of death, falsely accused of wrongdoing although He had done no wrong, He was lifted up by the Father, who remembered Him and raised Him out of "the grave's dark prison," seating Him at His right hand forevermore.  For Jesus is the greater Joseph: the servitude in Egypt His incarnation and life, the accusation of adultery His false conviction, the descent into prison His descent into death, the grave, and hell itself.  And now that the great Pharaoh of all, Almighty God the Father of our Lord, has raised Him up to power and glory, he pours out the blessings gained by his death upon us just as Joseph poured out grain upon the stricken land of Egypt.  And, as not only Egypt, but the whole world, hearing the good news of Joseph's deliverance of the Egyptians, came to him for bread, so also  Christ has not only fed the nation of Israel but has drawn all people to Himself, for the famine of the human condition truly is severe over all the earth, and our Lord has compassion for all sinners, and salvation for all who come to Him for the Bread of Life. 

Song of the Week

Samuel Barber/Prayers of Kierkegaard/Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus

I have my composition professor, Dr. Carlyle Sharpe, to thank for this one, as he referred it to me in this week's lesson in order to help me with my choral writing.  It blew me away.  There isn't really much I can say about this piece.  From the opening chant to the orchestra-choir interplay to the closing chorale, the whole suite is exquisitely beautiful and moving.  It cannot be described, only heard.

Song of the Week

Joseph Schwantner/"In Evening's Stillness"/North Texas Wind Symphony

"Song of the week" is a bit of a misnomer for this one.  "Composition" of the week perhaps?  Anyway, you get the idea.  I first heard this piece when Drury University's Wind Symphony performed it last fall, and was listening to it again today during composers' forum at the same university, in which we were studying the piece.  "In Evening's Stillness" is a brilliant work, a masterpiece of symphonic wind composition and a complex yet gripping and accessible composition.  The myriad of percussion instruments and their inventive parts and idiosyncratic techniques is the main attraction of the piece, supported by brass harmonies that perfectly fill the role of a sustained string section with their staggered parts.  The imitative interplay of the instruments is delightful, and the odd rhythms keep the listener on his toes.

Sacrificial Agony

Wise words from Charles Spurgeon:

You must expect to feel weakest when you are enjoying your greatest triumph.

A few months ago, God granted me the privilege of a personal sacrifice.  I am not trying to brag; it was a minor work, and nothing compared to the profound sacrifices of the truly great men and women of the world, not the least of whom have offered their freedom, their property, even their lives in the service of Jesus Christ.  But a sacrifice it was nonetheless, one with great personal significance to myself and for which I can give only God the credit and glory.

But I didn't feel good about it.  Even this small part of myself which I had to deny, the small service I performed for another at my own expense, crushed me and brought me to one of the lowest points of my recent life.  In the act, I felt not like a good Samaritan, but like a wounded warrior trampled in the heat of battle and struggling for his life.  It left me week, exhausted, spent, and miserable.  At the time, I couldn't tell if what I had done had been a good work or a terrible sin.  I was conflicted and weak, not triumphant.

They tell you that when you put others before yourself, you will feel good about yourself.  They tell you that virtue and sacrifice are not only beneficial for others but also soothing to your own soul.  They are wrong.  In some cases, yes, their pragmatic exhortations might be true, but when it comes down to it, sacrifice is painful.  It weakens and does not strengthen the human spirit.  As the frequently on-the-mark Neil Peart would say, "There is never love without pain."

But we as Christians are called to love.  We are called to sacrifice.  We are called to die to the self, and it is truly a death, and a painful one at that.  To sacrifice is not to reign triumphant in some self-made kingdom of self-denial, but to die and to be buried.  Jesus was not joking when he told his followers to "take up your cross."  If not meant literally (and in some cases it was meant literally) it was pretty darn close.

And thus it is not always in the depth of our sins that we realize our need for a Savior, but in our proudest moments.  Many outside of Christ's body lead upstanding lives, doing good, avoiding evil, and benefiting others, but despite their goodness, they can never be good enough.  For it is in our finest moments, in the midst of our most profound sacrifices, that we truly realize our weakness, that our best is never sufficient, that our petty sacrifices are ultimately worthless, that we make mountains out of molehills and stumble over pebbles as if they were boulders.  We go about our lives seemingly blamelessly, performing our daily tasks and our duties to others, and think ourselves complete, independent, and whole, until we are stopped dead in our tracks by the unforseen demand, the sudden test of will; we pass our test and then stumble past the checkpoint in tears, falling to the ground in exhaustion and begging for mercy.  We do our good work for the day and then find that we don't want to do any more good works.

And thus the futility of our petty existence pervades our lives, surrounding our bubbles of self-importance and fencing us into our own limitations despite our feeble efforts to pretend that our backyard is a great forest.  We are like children, playing at our silly games and thinking them important, playing the part of heroes and thinking ourselves worthy of praise, except that our feeble imitations never grow into reality, and our self-centered souls never grown into maturity.  The trivial exploits of children are insufficient and insignificant in the world of adults, and it is not until we come to grips with our own insufficience and insignificance that we can be saved.

And yet saved we will be.  For the child has a father and so do we, and His eternal Son has become our brother.  In weakness he came into the midst of our futility.  In humility he lived among our futile efforts.  He became insignificant that we might become significant, and died that we might live.  He came to sacrifice Himself, and trembled in the face of the sacrifice.  He sweat blood in the garden, cried to His Father for mercy and received no answer, poured Himself out before the world and endured the excruciating separation between Himself and the only One who could have saved Him.  His greatest triumph was his greatest weakness, His greatest victory His greatest suffering, as He hung suspended in agony, a wounded warrior facing sin, death, Satan, and hell.  In His death we also die, and in His resurrection we also rise again.  The Rich One became poor that we might become rich.  The Pure One became sin that we might become pure.  The Strong One became weak that we might become strong.  Our very strength is our weakness, but His weakness is our strength.  Amen.