Introduction
“Since, therefore, we have been surrounded by so great
a cloud of witnesses…” man, do I LOVE that passage of scripture! It’s got it all: it speaks to us
of tradition AND innovation, it celebrates community AND personal initiative,
it is saturated in spirituality while simultaneously affirming our living
presence in history – AND – it
challenges us to live in our generation as WITNESSES.
“Since,
therefore, we have been surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let US lay
aside every weight and sin that clings so closely, and run with perseverance
the race set before us, looking to Jesus as the pioneer and perfecter of our
faith.”
Sweet people of God let me cut to the chase here right
out of the gate because this one word – witnesses
– is a monster! The English word we translate as witnesses comes from the Greek word martus from which we get
the word martyr. Now be careful that you don’t assume that you
know what the word martyr means just because you’ve watched Ben Hur or even the TV show Battlestar Gallactica, ok? There are two
distinct truths taking place all at the same time in his little six letter word
– and each tells us something essential about living a jazz shaped faith.
·
First, a martyr was a witness: Webster’s
Dictionary says that a witness is “one who can give a firsthand account of
something seen, heard or experienced; someone who can share firsthand
evidence.”
·
Second, a martyr could speak to their personal
encounter with the evidence in one of three ways: in a legal or
forensic fashion, from the perspective of history and time or as a witness to
an ethical reality. That is, a martyr
was one who could bear witness to a legal contract or covenant; describe an
event that they had personally lived into and observed, or someone who could
render an ethical insight based upon their experience in life.
Do you dig why this is so hot? In the beginning, a martyr was not someone
who willingly chose death rather than compromise his or her religious
convictions – and as important as that was, it came later. Rather, a martyr was a witness who could give
living testimony to the presence of something life changing that took place in
reality. No wonder Peterson provides us
with this pumped-up interpretation of the text:
Do you see what this means: all
these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means
we’d better get on with it, too! Strip
down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins.
Keep your eyes on Jesus, who
both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it because he
never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with
God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right
alongside God. So when you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that
story again, item by item, get in touch with that long litany of hostility that
he plowed through and that will
shoot adrenaline into your souls!
So let me put this insight into the
context of our spirituality of jazz series because I think it resonates with
truth and power.
Insights
If you’ve been here for the past two
weeks you know that Carlton, Between the Banks and I have been exploring
something I call a spirituality of jazz.
And if for some reason you have missed our groove – heaven forbid –
here’s a recap:
· Spirituality has to do with the practices
of a faith: the disciplines, actions and commitments we
repeat over time that help us mature as those following the way of Jesus. Spiritual practices are things like being in
worship, singing hymns, prayer, sharing your resources for the common good,
acts of compassion, ok? So it is small wonder that the preacher in Hebrews uses
the metaphor of the race today – she’s talking about the training required for
perseverance – and that means spirituality.
· We’ve also been playing with jazz as
both music and metaphor because it is such an American art form done in
community. Sure, you have to practice your instrument in
private – jazz folk call this “wood-shedding “where you work out the kinks in
private – but like Wynton Marsalis says: you PLAY
jazz in a group for an audience. And in
that group you have to listen and respect one another, give and take and
respond to what’s happening in each moment and try to help everyone involved
make the best music possible.
In the practice of a jazz-shaped
faith we practice syncopation –
listening and giving shape and form to the offbeat – as well as the rhythm of call and response – where we learn to
listen and wait rather than react so that we can respond to life with creativity
and integrity. And now we’ll bring it
all home with the spiritual practice of improvisation, that blessed experience
that keeps the music fresh and fun and always real.
Jazz theologian Robert Gelinas writes
that: Improvisation is what allows jazz
to exist in a continual state of renewal.
In jazz, the same old song seems like a new song every time it is
performed because it is a music of traditions and freedom. Much of the fun comes from hearing how new
artists will take old standards and make them fresh as they add their own
voices… (for) in jazz improvisation is expected… when you take the stage, you
are there, in part, to take the risk of composing in the moment – and that is
one truth about improvisation. (Finding a Groove, p.33)
And let me unpack that with a few
comments before we share some musical examples.
· First improvisation is NOT standing up
and playing whatever you want however you want whenever you want – that is
chaos – and it is selfish. In jazz, what
you compose on the spot has to fit and move with the flow. Second
improvisation is NOT standing up and playing a song out of a book for the first
time. That may be fun – or scary –
but it is not improvisation. Rather, improvisation is born of practice and
knowing a song so well that you can play with it in a creative way. It is grounded in tradition and freedom
simultaneously.
· And third improvisation is NOT unbridled
freedom without any sense of the consequences; rather, it is “the desire to make
something new out of something old” coming from two Latin words – im and provius – meaning “not provided or not foreseen.” (Gelinas, p. 33)
So let’s share three examples of improvisation so that
you can hear and feel what I mean.
· If you have been
here each week, you will have heard us improvising at the start and close of
each worship gathering: we have been
trying out different sounds, styles and rhythms with the “Kyrie” that we later
sing in worship. Have you noticed
that? It takes something old and
traditional and tries to make it new each week. Carlton
can we recap some of the different styles by way of example…?
· That’s one
improvisational truth: taking something
old and knowing it so well you can create something new out of it that is respectful
and playful at the same time. Another
element of improvisation involves a structured experiment with form and I’d
like Carlton to say something about one of his compositions that we’ll share…
Play The Golden Stone
Did you hear
and feel the balance here? The very form
of this song builds in a time for complete freedom and creativity while giving
it structure and focus, too. Now there is
one more truth about improvisation that I want you to grasp: how changing the very chords of a tune can
help to illuminate a new insight that was always present, but undiscovered. Jazz
musicians often play with chord substitutions to create a nuanced – or dramatic
– shift in the feel and sound of a song.
They do it for the audience and for themselves and maybe we can give you a simple example…
·
I’ve played with
this concept during some of our Good Friday liturgies. I discovered, for example, that changing the
D major in the Credence song, “Bad Moon Rising” to a D minor made it feel
ominous… (play an example)
· Well over
vacation, sitting by the waters of Lake Ontario reading about jazz history, I
had a notion that the same thing could be done with Leonard Cohen’s tune
“Hallelujah.” If you know that song, it
has been covered by everyone – some better than others – and I wasn’t sure
there was a way to both honor its core and make it new at the same time. So I kept singing it to myself as we biked
around the shore – and then it hit me – a chord substitu-tion that added a
flatted fifth might emphasize the anguish implied in the chorus. And it worked… (play an example)
We’ll play the whole thing for you in a moment, but let me bring the jazz and the spirituality together as I hear it taking place in the text from Hebrews. The preacher is telling us that God’s spirit inspired bold and creative acts of faith in a whole group of vastly different people ALL of whom listened to tradition – cherished it and were nourished on it – so that when the right time came they could also make it completely new. Just listen to this syncopated list of people who heard the call and responded with their own unique improvisations:
· There were women
like Sarah – the mother of Judaism – as well as Rahab the Canaanite prostitute
who are celebrated as exemplars of faith because they trusted God’s promise but
acted in history for compassion and justice in uniquely new ways.
· There is the
mystical priest, Melchizedek, who didn’t hail from the traditional line of holy
men in Israel – he is an outsider not from the house of Aaron – but his love of
God was so deep that even his out of the
box actions become blessed for Israel.
· There were judges
like Samson and Gideon, prophets like Moses and Micah, warriors and
peace-makers, too.
·
There were mothers
who experienced the resurrection of the dead, martyrs who both witnessed to
God’s love and gave their lives as a sacrifice, wanderers in the desert,
dwellers of the city, people of the mountains and the caves and everybody you
might imagine in-between.
And they ALL took their faith and let it lead them
into new and liberating expressions of God’s love in history because they knew
how to improvise. Some played with
tradition, others played with form while still others changed the chords of the
song so that they could sing to the Lord a NEW song. And ALL were witnesses – martyrs – advocates
for spiritual improvisation born of faith, hope and love.
Conclusion
And how does the old preacher conclude this incredible
sermon? Since WE – meaning you and me –
are SURROUNDED by such a great cloud of witnesses – let’s create some faithful
and joyful improvisation for our time.
Let’s refuse to be “incarcerated by tradition.” (Gelinas) Let us turn
our backs on the crippling conformity of the status quo and create a new song
for the Lord. Let us give up our adolescent
addiction to individualism run amuck and start playing together in the band of
faith, hope and love. And let’s do so
with a verve that is vivacious.
“Creativity,” beloved, “is essential to jazz” – and it
is essential to faith, too. One scholar
put it like this: Improvisation requires creativity
for jazz is not about copying but about creating – and creating not just one
time but every time.
Improvisation is about playfulness and curiosity, experimentation and
adventure… all within the boundaries of tradition and freedom. (It is reputed that the great Louis Armstrong
– one of the art form’s true geniuses – said, “Look we ALL do ‘do re me’
but YOU have to find the other notes for yourself.” YOU have to improvise.
So here’s what one such adventure in improvisation
came out like for us – may you take the next step in the race of faith looking
to Jesus – trusting that you are surrounded by a whole cloud of witnesses born
of grace.
Well I heard there was a secret chord that
David played
and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this: the
fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall and the major lift the baffled king composing Hallelujah…
Your faith was strong but you needed proof -
The minor fall and the major lift the baffled king composing Hallelujah…
Your faith was strong but you needed proof -
you saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you -
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you -
she tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah…
She broke your throne and she cut your hair and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah…
Baby I've been here before I've seen this
room
and I've walked this floor (you know)
I used to live alone before I knew you
I used to live alone before I knew you
And I've seen your flag on the marble
arch
and love is not a victory march it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah…
There was a time when you let me know what's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do you?
and love is not a victory march it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah…
There was a time when you let me know what's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too and every breath we drew was Hallelujah…
Maybe there's a God above all I've ever learned from love
And the holy dove was moving too and every breath we drew was Hallelujah…
Maybe there's a God above all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
it's not somebody who's seen the
light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah...
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah...
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