“So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians
Among my favorite pieces of music is John Coltrane’s iconic composition “A Love Supreme,” recorded in December of 1964. Coltrane’s gift to us was a declaration that his musical devotion was now intertwined with his faith in God, a spiritual quest that grew out of his personal troubles and addiction. The album was recorded in one session on December 9, 1964, in a studio in New Jersey, leading a quartet featuring pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones. Of that experience, Coltrane said, “I experienced, by the grace of God, a spiritual awakening… leading me to a richer, fuller, more productive life.” After running the NYC marathon in 1979 I joined a group of college friends at the Cookery, in Greenwich Village. McCoy Tyner, who played piano on the recording, was playing piano that evening with the band accompanying the Blues impresario Alberta Hunter. As he began a selection from Coltrane’s album, Tyner said to those of us gathered that night; “It was just such a wonderful experience….we couldn’t really explain why it was… meant to be. The Spirit was present in that room that day.”
Music has the power to evoke the mystery of Paul’s call in Corinthians to “see what cannot be seen” in ways that move us to deeper understanding, as in this favorite hymn of mine:
My song is love unknown, / My Savior’s love to me; / Love to the loveless shown, / That they might lovely be. / O who am I, / That for my sake / My Lord should take / Frail flesh, and die?
My Song Is Love Unknown – King’s College, Cambridge (youtube.com)
Some time ago, I was with my family for a trail race in northern New Mexico and visited the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, in Santa Fe, site of Willa Cather’s novel Death Comes for the Archbishop. Among my favorite passages in the novel has Archbishop Latour, the main character, say:
“Where there is great love there are always miracles…One might almost say that an apparition is human vision corrected by divine love. I do not see you as you really are… I see you through my affection for you. The Miracles of the Church seem to me to rest …upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always.”
A few years earlier, while attending a clinical conference in Santa Fe, I watched a glorious parade on the Plaza of St. Francis Cathedral. The morning was filled with music, including Spanish violin groups, Mariachi bands representing various societies paying homage to saints, and music from many of the Pueblos found in the region—so much wonderful music!
As the participants entered the Cathedral, I found myself moved by the richness of God’s creation. I was also acutely aware that in this time and place, I was very much in the minority. I was the “Anglo” stranger, standing on the periphery as the parade passed me by. I felt a momentary loneliness, even in the crowd gathered to watch the parade.
Then a Mariachi band of old Hispanic men, with deep, leathery skin the reddish brown color of the very earth in the surrounding hills, came into view. As they passed by me, one of them paused, and bowed, still playing his violin. Nodding, he motioned me to enter the procession. His deep brown eyes were smiling, and in a moment of joyful, grace-filled transcendence, I found myself a part of this glorious dance, healed, and moving up the stairs into the deep, delightful, sacred mystery of the Cathedral. Music accompanied me on this journey, and was reminiscent of the final verse of “Love Unknown”:
Here might I stay and sing, / No story so divine; / Never was love, dear King, / Never was grief like Thine. / This is my Friend, / In whose sweet praise / I all my days / Could gladly spend.
Paul reminds us that death does not rule, not only when we die, but also while we live. As Cather’s Archbishop Latour says, miracles of grace are all around us, if we will open our eyes and ears to see and hear. We have so much love to share here at Holy Family, so many ways to give of ourselves—to give that love away. Find a way to join us, won’t you? There are so many opportunities for service—including our amazing choir, gifting us with beautiful music each week!
It takes a combination of creativity, imagination, talent, and the gift of the Holy Spirit to gift us with these lovely pieces of music. John Coltrane understood this as a “Love Supreme.” I do as well. And that morning in Santa Fe, love unknown and unseen was made “manifest” to me. May we, too, join in the Holy procession—the grace-filled resurrection parade on into Pentecost, and beyond, with gratitude. May our eyes see and our ears hear the music of love supreme, unknown and unseen, and may we not lose heart.
I’ll catch you later on down the trail. And I hope to see you in church! Bill+