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Rev. Jonalu Johnstone
December 11, 2022
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org
Don’t we all love Christmas? And Advent? And music? Maybe yes, maybe no. We’ll hear the wonder of music as we consider the season and its mixed history and present.
Chalice Lighting
This is the flame we hold in our hearts as we strive for justice for everyone. This is the light we shine upon systems of oppression until they are no more. This is the warmth that we share with one another as our struggle becomes our salvation.
Call to Worship
I will light candles this Christmas,
Candles of joy despite all the sadness,
Candles of hope where despair keeps watch,
Candles of courage for fears ever present,
Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days,
Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens,
Candles of love to inspire all my living,
Candles that will burn all year long.– Rev. Dr. Howard Thurman
Affirming Our Mission
Together we nourish souls, transform lives, and do justice to build the Beloved Community.
Moment for Beloved Community
This morning in our moment for Beloved Community, I want to make the case against a moment for Beloved Community. Not because Beloved Community is not valuable or a worthy goal; rather, because Beloved Community is so valuable and such a worthy goal.
Beloved Community will always be aspirational. No particular church or community is, itself, a Beloved Community, no matter how much any of us loves and appreciates our particular community. Rather, Beloved Community is more like the Kindom of God, not Kingdom, but Kindom, a place of relatedness, a place without violence, war, racism, sexism, oppression, homophobia, transphobia, homelessness, hunger, poverty, or climate change. A place where we live sustainably and generously and everyone – of every race, ability, gender and age can thrive, peaceful, happy, healthy, and safe. A place where we grow and offer one another our best selves, always.
So, it’s wonderful that this congregation has set aside this moment during each service to contemplate different aspects of Beloved Community. However, isn’t our whole service about the aspiration of Beloved Community? Isn’t our mission Beloved Community? Don’t we aim to encompass Beloved Community in all that we do as church?
Probably not. That, though is the ideal.
Beloved Community is not a moment; it’s a way of life. So, Rev. Chris, Rev. Erin and I – along with some other staff members — have been thinking about how we make the whole service and the whole church more infused with Beloved Community. We have been attending to the sources we draw from, the readings we share, the ideas we talk about, and the learnings we offer. We have been inviting guest speakers with BIPOC identities. We have begun encouraging use of the UUA’s “Widening the Circle of Concern,” a report from the Commission on Institutional Change as a guideline for examining the racist and antiracist practices that exist within our own institution. We will be offering a Trans Inclusion curriculum in January. We want to view everything that we do through the lens of anti-oppression work and the goal of Beloved Community.
Now, during the holiday season, as has been the tradition, we will not have moments of Beloved Community as part of the service. We may bring back the moments from time to time, or with some consistency, and we may not. We will, though, keep working toward Beloved Community. And we are all happy to hear your feedback about this work and how it’s best done. Because we learn from one another.
Readings
FOR THE DARKNESS OF WAITING
By Janet MorleyFor the darkness of waiting
of not knowing what is to come
of staying ready and quiet and attentive,
we praise you O GodFor the darkness and the light
are both alike to you
For the darkness of staying silent
for the terror of having nothing to say
and for the greater terror
of needing to say nothing,
we praise you O GodFor the darkness and the light
are both alike to you
For the darkness of loving
in which it is safe to surrender
to let go of our self-protection
and to stop holding back our desire,
we praise you O GodFor the darkness and the light
are both alike to you
For the darkness of choosing
when you give us the moment
For the darkness and the light
are both alike to you
to speak, and act, and change,
and we cannot know what we have set in motion,
but we still have to take the risk,
we praise you O GodFor the darkness of hoping
in a world which longs for you,
for the wrestling and the labouring of all creation
for wholeness and justice and freedom,
we praise you O GodFor the darkness and the light
are both alike to you
THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES
The music of the spheres.
A harmonious universe – like a harp.Its rhythms are the equal,
repeated seasons.
The beating of the heart.Day/night. The going and
returning of migratory birds.The cycles of stars and corn.
The mimosa that unfolds by
day and folds up again by night.Rhythms of moon and tide.
One single rhythm in planets, atoms, sea,And apples that ripen and fall,
and in the mind of Newton.Melody, accord, arpeggios
The harp of the universe.
Unity behind apparent
multiplicity.That is the music.
– ERNESTO CARDENAL
Sermon
The Wonder and Controversy of Music and Advent
Rev. Jonalu Johnstone
As a child, I took piano lessons from Mr. Cleveland Fisher, organist at a prominent Washington, D.C., Episcopal church. Every year early in December, he’d admonish me, “You’re probably already singing Christmas carols at your church.”
Mr. Fisher was accusing me — and most of the Christian world — , including the stores as well as churches, of singing out of season. At his church, they reserved Christmas carols until the 24th of December and sang them through the official Christmas season, until the Feast of the Epiphany in January. During the period of Advent, the month before Christmas, they sang Advent hymns, like “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and – surely, there’s some other Advent hymn, but I’m betting few of us would recognize it. Our choir is doing Advent music today, though. Two points for them! The idea is that in this season of Advent, we are waiting for the birth of the child. He’s not here yet, we’re not even certain if he will come, so we’re in a time of hope and prayer and quiet, waiting.
Of course, the Advent-Christmas liturgical divide is only one of the many ways Christmas songs stir controversy. In the early years of this country, the Puritans and Pilgrims – our own spiritual ancestors — hated Christmas music. Actually, they hated Christmas, making it illegal in Massachusetts until 1681. Even after it was legalized, it was at best tolerated. Schools in Boston stayed open on Christmas Day until 1870.
Today, there’s less open hatred of Christmas spirit and Christmas music by Christians, though non-Christians may tire of it. And people of various faiths find the ubiquitous strains of Christmas spirit blared in malls and doctors’ offices obnoxious. Anybody here? On the other hand, you have those who keep Sirius or Pandora tuned in to the Christmas station – whatever that is – from Thanksgiving through New Years without fail. The variety of Christmas music is staggering from Bing Crosby, who recorded more than 22,000 different seasonal songs, to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, from cathedral choirs to the “Christmas Tree Farm,” by Taylor Swift. Someone’s buying all that Christmas music. And someone else is hating it.
Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise that Christmas music engenders conflict. There may be nothing more controversial in religious communities than music. Ask any church that replaced their choir with a praise band.
Even in this congregation, where we’re pretty mellow, and our music department led by Brent is deeply appreciated, not everyone wholeheartedly embraces all the music. We all have different tastes. And, like all religious communities, we have to guard the lines between entertainment, performance and spiritual depth. Because, though music can stir the soul, the music in a service is never simply performance, or entertainment, but exists at the service of worship – which depending on your philosophy and feelings, mayor may not include applause. I know there are moments when I want to simply hear that final note fade into the room.
Plus, I know that’s “worship” is a controversial word in UU congregations. Who or what do we worship? We ask. For me, it’s simply an acknowledgement of something beyond – something beyond the musicians and the gathered congregation, some inimitable something, nameless, and yet real, almost tangible.
Spirit. The Holy. The Divine.
Because the words we say express meaning, but rarely touch the actual experience of Spirit. That sometimes requires the arts. Twentieth century Russian abstract artist Wassily Kandinsky explored the connection between art and spirit. He talks about three effects of color: physical, psychological and spiritual effects. You can tell by what he writes that his understanding of art weaves together with his experience of music, a passion since his childhood, as both his parents played piano professionally. Like color, music has the same array of effects – physical, psychological and spiritual.
Physically, music is vibration travelling through the air to our ears, and even to other parts of our bodies. People who are deaf, for example, feel music, so can dance as gracefully as those who hear. Babies as young as five months move to music without ever having a dance lesson; their bodies are part of what they hear. Kandinsky writes that painting affects more than the eye, but rather all five senses. Music is the same – it affects more than the ear.
Psychologically, music lowers the stress hormone cortisol, while raising endorphins, oxytocin, and dopamine, diminishing pain and giving pleasure. This hormone interaction can even stimulate that sense of chills you get sometimes with an extraordinary performance. Anyone else get chills with music from time to time? From the physical experience of hearing music, we can actually become more relaxed and happier. Music can even boost our immune system.
The music itself may create a particular mood, evoking the feelings and experience the composer put into it. Music also creates associations – maybe you heard that song at your loved one’s memorial service and it makes you sad. Maybe it reminds you of a particular place or a fictitious landscape or a time in your life or a dream you have for the future. Those associations are personal and vary considerably from one hearer to another.
Music is more than a piece of sound; it is an experience, which blends into the spiritual. The deep breathing required for singing produces many of the same benefits as meditation. Indian mystic Osha said: “Music is the easiest method of meditation. Whoever can let [the]mself dissolve into music has no need to seek anything else to dissolve into.” And it’s a heck of a lot easier to focus your brain on music than it is to make your mind go blank.
Kandinsky calls the elusive nature of art the “spiritual vibrations.” Since music is physical vibration, could it also be spiritual vibration? Pythagoras and other classical philosophers hypothesized a “music of the spheres,” a celestial harmony that came from the orbiting of stars and planets, a delicate music not audible on earth, but ringing through the universe. More than one ancient myth tells of a god or goddess singing the world into being.
Since the first ancient Veda was chanted, music has been part of spiritual pursuits. Australian aborigines blow their didgeridoos. Jews and Muslims sing their religious texts. The Christian tradition claims Gregorian chant and Bach masses, gospel music and Duke Ellington’s “Sacred Blue.”
Music has a presence that works in our bodies, minds and hearts beyond and outside of words. It smooths the rough edges of life, awakens our hearts, focuses our preoccupied minds. It’s as if music has its own spirit that speaks to ours.
And so does Christmas itself, of course. We speak of having the Christmas Spirit? What can be said of it?
It’s never been unambiguous. Many of us UU’s have mixed feelings about the Christmas story. Too many angels. And virgin birth, one of the standards of ancient time — Ra, Horus, and the pharaoh Amanophis in Egypt, the Phrygian god Attis, the Greek Dionysus, Krishna in India, even the Roman Julius Caesar – all born of virgins. And the Greeks regularly gave their heroes gods for fathers – Pythagoras, Alexander the Great, Augustus – all fathered by gods. Many of the other features of the story occurred in pagan traditions first.
What’s more, the two main stories of the birth – one in Matthew and one in Luke – don’t seem to agree on much of anything: Matthew has wise men and Luke has the manger and the shepherds. The usual practice is to mash the stories together for the full-blown extravaganza and cast of thousands – angels and animals, shepherds and magi, stars and stables. Makes a better Christmas pageant, parts for everyone – an experience we’ll share next week.
Nor do the stories align with reality too effectively.
And yet, the story has spoken to people through the ages and across cultures, the story of a child born in a humble setting, proclaimed God incarnate. The miracle of a baby’s birth brought angels and stars in the sky, and shepherds from the field, admiration from high and low. The story has opened hearts. And inspired music in every genre and century of the past two millennia. Somehow, the music reminds us that stories need not be factually true in every detail to have a deeper spiritual truth, to inspire us and remind us of our values – like hope, love, joy and peace.
There’s one more problem we find with the Christmas songs and stories. How do we move to a celebration of birth, of hope, of joy, when so much that is in our world evokes sadness, confusion, anger, fear, or rancor?
I’m going to take a step back into traditional Advent for a moment because Advent acknowledges what a messy world we live in. The prophets are read at Advent rant on about the horrors we experience – how the adversaries surround us, how darkness covers the earth, how warfare, oppression and sin afflict humanity, how the world needs someone to straighten it out. Not much has changed in these hundreds and thousands of years. We may not quake in fear in response to the sun’s decline. Instead, our fear centers on elections, court decisions, gun violence, racism and antisemitism, global climate change and domestic and foreign terrorism.
Advent reminds us of our helplessness in the face of all kinds of limitations – the utter inhumanity we can have towards one another, as well as our own smallness in the scheme of the universe. So, how do we get from there to the celebration of Christmas?
In the Christian tradition, that comes with the birth of a child. It can come in other ways, though. With a change of heart. With a new insight. With support from a friend. It can come with the birth of a child. I have a friend whose grandbaby was born more than 100 days early, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Seeing the survival and thriving of that little baby helps me know the resilience of the human spirit, and that miracles do happen in this world.
One way the bridge from Advent to Christmas often comes is through the music. When our hearts are touched and opened, we may may find our souls soothed in troubled times. We may find the link that takes us from the strange mix of hope and despair that characterizes Advent to the true joy of Christmas.
Despite those staunch traditionalist Christians like Mr. Fisher who do their best each year to fend off Christmas carols until as late in December as possible, we Americans tend to plow right through from Thanksgiving, or Halloween, to Christmas joy, without touching the mire of Advent. And here’s where those traditionalists have a point. We try to shift into the Christmas spirit – the feasting and gifts and songs – without the reflection on our human condition. That’s when Christmas can morph into a season of values misspent – to debauchery and drunkenness and family fights and maybe even tragedy.
But, if we let Christmas come while acknowledging and holding the challenges that Advent brings us, then we allow transformation to overtake us – and, we are ready to truly celebrate.
Our challenge is to face squarely the world we live in with its division, its violence, and its oppression, and hold onto hope, peace, joy, and love.
That may sound impossible, but if you can do it, even a little, the hope, peace, joy and love transform you and the spirit of Christmas does rise up in gratitude and rejoicing. If you can picture that child who should not have been born yet who breathes on her own, you can hold onto hope. If you can remember hugging your own child, or parent, or lover, as if your very life depended on it, you can hold onto love. If you have known a time when the tears you cried were a deep welling beyond sorrow that came from loving life, you can hold onto joy. If you can summon the moment when you heard that perfect harmony, you can hold onto peace.
Even in the presence of tragedy, hope, peace, joy and love triumph.
So, we sing. We sing whether or not anyone claims we’re out of season, by the calendar or by the news story. As Leonard Bernstein said: “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.” We sing because we know that hope, love, joy and peace are ours and are the only way that we will survive and find comfort. Always. Amen.
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