Benjamin Britten, one of the leading British composers, pianists and conductors of the 20th century, was born in 1913. A child prodigy, he wrote many compositions for radio, theatre and cinema. In 1939 he moved to the United States and wrote his first stage work, the operetta Paul Bunyan, for which W. H. Auden provided the libretto. Then followed the operas Peter Grimes, The Rape of Lucretia, Albert Herring, Billy Budd, Gloriana, written for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, The Turn of the Screw, A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Litter Sweep in which both the audience and the cast - mostly children - join, and many many more.
Britten then turned his attention to church-related music. His Curlew River combined English medieval religious drama and the Japanese No theatre. The Burning Fiery Furnace, The Prodigal Son and Noye's Fludde followed. He wrote Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo for his lifelong companion and artistic partner Peter Pears. Among his better known works are Ceremony of Carols and his powerful War Requiem. In addition to all this he wrote many instrumental works. He was a composer among composers. Rejoice in the Lamb was written in 1943.
The words of the Cantata are taken from a long poem of the same name. The writer was Christopher Smart, an eighteenth century poet, deeply religious, but of a strange and unbalanced mind. "Rejoice in the Lamb" was written while Smart was in an asylum, and is chaotic in form, but contains many flashes of genius. It is a few of the finest passages that Benjamin Britten has chosen to set to music. The main theme of the poem, and that of the Cantata, is the worship of God, by all created beings and things, each in its own way.
The Cantata itself is made up of ten short sections. One section gives a few examples of one person after another being summoned from the pages of the Old Testament to join with some creature in praising and rejoicing in God. In another Smart takes his beloved cat as an example of nature praising God by being simply what the Creator intended it to be. The same thought is carried on in the illustration of the mouse - and then he writes of flowers as "the poetry of Christ."
The theology of this piece will perhaps make some of us a tad uneasy, but the deeply spiritual tone of the music and the sheer sincerity of the words transcends mere differences in theology. After all, one of the sources of our religion is "Jewish and Christian teachings which call us to respond to God's love by loving our neighbors as ourselves."
There is a song running through my head. It goes something like... "All things shall perish from under the sky. Music alone shall live, music along shall live, never to die." I'm not sure of the metaphysics of that musical claim, but I am sure that without music life would be a great deal less worth living. Those thoughts are in my mind as I pay tribute to our musical program and those who embody it.
We are blessed with a talented and devoted musical community - assembled in large part by our Minister of Music Ed Schell, who is taking a richly deserved and productive Sabbatical. In his place we have a very talented Acting Director of Music, Grady Bailey, who doubles as a tenor soloist. On this musically oriented Sunday we also want to pay tribute to the director of the early service choir Lew Ward-Baker. And, of course, we want to thank all those enthusiastic volunteers at both our 9 and 11 a.m. services, and many other musicians who join them from time to time.
This is our annual opportunity, not only to have our spirits uplifted by more extensive fine music than we routinely have, but also to pay tribute to their work by our presence.
It may seem strange for a musically challenged minister to be cheerleading for our musical ensembles, but it really isn't. I compensate for my lack of musical talent by an exuberant enjoyment of music - tinged with just a bit of awe and envy.
I think of the story about blind jazz musician Art Tatum who was relaxing between sets in a 52nd Street bar in New York City, drinking beer from a bottle. A missionary wandered in from the street and came over to talk to him.
She said, "Joining the flock is your only salvation." Without answering, Tatum took another swig of beer.
"If you don't join the flock, you'll be a lost child of God," she insisted. Tatum went on sipping his beer.
When the musician decided that the evangelist had pestered him long enough, he shrugged and answered softly:
"All God's children are lost, but only a few can play the piano."
In August of 1993 the Unitarian Universalist Musicians Network - conceived and founded by Joyce Gilbert, who now serves as President, held its 10th anniversary meeting here in Rochester. At the time I wrote these words - which I think point to our love of music as a spiritual resource in this congregation.
We, a congregation most musically meticulous,
Give UU musicians a welcome most felicitous.
We celebrate a network here
Not of computers - never fear.
But tone takers and music makers,
And in their congregations the worship shakers.
We welcome all those songsters off on a summer spree,
Bound for here or eternity.
We welcome all those trumpeters and timpanists who travel,
Violists and violinists on vacation,
Percussionists who play,
Composers and conductors who - well - compose and conduct
Themselves as musicians who make magic.
And ministers, such as bear musical tunes,
As the good book says.
We welcome to this holy place,
Both baritone and bass,
And tenors most rare,
About whose tender vocal chords we care,
And sopranos who soar and altos who climb
As well as those who put the lyrics into rhyme.
And to those of you - and of us -
Who would sing lustily and well, but cannot,
Who squawk and screech when we wish we did not,
Who feel the music in our soul,
But cannot quite with our lips and chords make sound whole,
Whose feet cannot quite find the rhythm,
But still want to dance,
To all these a warm welcome too.
Somehow it all works out in this sacred space and special place -
A harmony of part with part and person with person.
A melody that cannot be put on any cleft
Nor be captured on musical computer right or left,
But whose beauty makes even the angels jealous
And makes them want to sing - this song of welcome.
Music reaches heights and depths of the spirit words can never touch. Music, I conclude is a metaphor for existence. When discussing how he composed his music, Duke Ellington once said that it was good to have limits. He explained that since his trumpet player could reach certain notes beautifully, but not other notes, and the same with his trombonist, he had to write his music within those limits. And so these words:
We live within limits.
We compose a life out of finite time.
We sing the melody of meaning in cathedraled space,
Working out a distinctive tune.
We walk in harmony with all that is,
In cosmos and community,
Seeking to attune ourselves with the music of the spheres,
Knowing our existence is but a single note
In a vast universal symphony.
We move in oscillating rhythms,
Now with bursts of energy,
Now with the richness of repose,
Reveling in the variety of the beat,
Stepping to our own music,
no matter how measured or far away.
We live within dissonance, for concord is not guaranteed.
Often we are out of tune, inharmonious, out of step.
Dissonance creates its own meaning
Moving within the score,
Providing contrasts that enrich the songs we would sing.
Music is a metaphor for existence.
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