Music to My Ears

Music can lull a child to sleep. Gentle tunes that accompany the rocking motion in a grandmother’s or mother’s arms to soothe an upset or tired child and help her go to sleep. I have often held a child and put him to sleep while rocking and humming or singing, so I guess my voice is not too hard to bear.

While creating this post, I’m listening to soothing music, alternating piano and classical, and if I don’t fall asleep at the keyboard, you’ll hear what else I have to write. While I enjoy a wide variety of classical music, I also love many popular tunes that carry a melodic rhythm. But for resting, I want something that is gentle and relaxing and without words. 

  

I don’t remember our mother singing us to sleep but perhaps she did, or maybe my grandmother did when she lived with my parents for a few of their early years. I sang to my children at bedtime and now I sing or hum to my grandchildren when I have occasion to settle them for a nap or nighttime. Only when they’re older do they sometimes tell me to stop singing. Can’t win them all.

On a different note, my mother would say some piece of news was ‘music to her ears’ and I might be tempted to use the same expression from time to time. News I’ve long awaited, surprising news that’s happy or unexpected, but very good, might put that line in my head. This phrase is actually an idiom, I discovered. Oxford Dictionary of Idioms says that ‘music to your ears’ means “something that is very pleasant or gratifying to hear or discover.” There’s no mention of musical tones or rhythm or notes at all, just good news.

Tragic news would not be the kind we wish to hear, but news of an exceptional accomplishment, a long-awaited win or news of a new baby born to delighted parents is the kind I speak of.

Maybe we should recoin the phrase ‘music to my ears,’ but I don’t know how else I’d rephrase it. Idioms often mean something quite different than the words used in the term, but this one is easy to understand, I think. Something that’s easy to hear could ring like a melody. It might not rhyme or have a rhythm but is pleasant to take in and repeat. Like music.

As a Christian in an often difficult and sad world, the news that God loves us so much that he sent his son (John 3:16) might ring like music in our ears. Not the false words that led to betrayal. Not the cruel beating or hanging on the cross. Not the disciples running away because they’re afraid, but the act of love. That’s it — ringing like music in our ears. The gladness that comes Easter morning when we finally come out of those gloomy last days of Lent and Holy (hellish) Week. The hallelujahs ring like music in our ears.

I haven’t fallen asleep yet with the relaxing tunes floating from my speakers, but had I not been working towards the deadline of a post, I might have been tempted to turn off my computer sooner and say ‘goodnight.’ The music has been repetitive in rhythm but it is soothing, like ‘charms to soothe the savage breast,’ wrote William Congreve in The Mourning Bride, 1697. I think Shakespeare would have liked the line too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjWMeSoNOzs 

Carolyn Wilker is an author, editor, workshop leader and enjoys music. 
www.carolynwilker.ca

Bruce Cockburn: Restless Virtuoso- HIRD

By the Rev. Dr. Ed Hird

While at the local library with my wife, I ran across Bruce Cockburn’s fascinating new autobiography and spiritual memoirs Bruce Cockburn: Rumours of Glory.   A true Canadian icon, Cockburn ironically gets more airtime now on US radios than in Canada.  Until recently, he has been called one of Canada’s best kept secrets.  Over the past five decades, he has released thirty-one albums, selling over seven million copies worldwide, including one million copies in Canada. The New York Times has called Cockburn a virtuoso on guitar.  His accomplishments include 12 Juno Awards and 21 gold/platinum certifications. As well as being a member of the Canadian Music Hall of Fame and Canadian Broadcast Hall of Fame, Cockburn is an Officer of the Order of Canada and recipient of the Governor General’s Performing Arts Award for Lifetime Artistic Achievement.  He even has his own postage stamp!  It is easy to put famous people up on pedestals, only for them to come crashing down.

Cockburn noted: “What doesn't kill you makes for songs.”  He is very transparent in his memoirs about the ‘cage of reticence’ that he has been trapped in, saying that it took him decades to open up enough to allow another human beyond the courtyard of his heart. Due to the flat lining of emotional content, he bottled up his feelings and failed to connect.  Cockburn commented: “It was almost impossible for me to communicate from the heart, especially if the subject required deep openness....I remained too trapped inside myself...”  Even positive attention could be off-putting to him.  Being terrified of audiences, he initially pretended that they were not there.  Through his music, Cockburn temporarily came out of hiding: “Music is my diary, my anchor through anguish and joy, a channel for the heart.”  His self-described penchant for withdrawal led to several painful relational breakups: “Relationships of the heart though require exposure of the soul.” Being a travelling musician can be very hard on relationships.  In his memoirs, Cockburn notes:

...a long history of failing to communicate our deepest fears, resentments, and longings was at the core of our unraveling....Neither of us would entertain for a moment the notion of going for counseling...I'd leave on tour. My wife would be left in a stew of resentment and loneliness.

There are endless internet interviews with Cockburn about his spirituality.  Few authors are willing to be interviewed in such detail about their spiritual journeys.  Cockburn’s spiritual reflections are very paradoxical, evocative, and nuanced: “Anyone who has spent any time exploring Bruce Cockburn’s music knows what a complex artist he is. He is as spiritual as he is political, and as much a master musician as a lyrical poet.”  He is a free spirit who cannot be boxed in.  Bruce has a strongly developed social conscience and passion for justice that is expressed through his music, particularly in the 1980s. The more interior 1970s led to a more exterior 1980s, focusing on the love of oppressed neighbours in the Global South.   

While raised in the United Church by agnostic parents, his first spiritual encounter occurred while taking communion in St George’s Anglican Church in Ottawa: “it felt like something happened.” He called it a wondrous shiver of contact, of connection.  At his wedding at St George’s, all of a sudden there was someone there “as vivid as I could see them, but I couldn’t seem them, this loving presence...So I started taking Jesus very seriously at that point...that image has never left.” Sadly, in moving to Toronto, Cockburn ‘didn’t find another church that had the same spirit attached to it.”

It has been said that Cockburn has a spiritual GPS in him that doesn’t want to shut off: “I’m trying to get people to be aware of how much more there is to life than just what they see.” There are people who love Bruce Cockburn just for his music," said Mr. Brian Walsh, explaining each has their reasons be it his guitar virtuosity, his lyrics or his political stance. "They don't always get the spirituality.”  Cockburn’s quest for deeper meaning is a lifelong spiritual journey: “I believe that my relationship with God is central to my life. It is the most important thing in my life.” “Eventually, through a series of personal stuff in the early ’70s, I ended up giving myself to Christ and asking for help, and I figured at that point I better start calling myself a Christian,” said Cockburn. “I think a personal relationship with God is what we’re supposed to be after and what God is after. That experience was a very crucial part of discovering and attempting to develop that relationship,” said Cockburn.  The song All The Diamonds was written on the night of Cockburn’s conversion: “When Jesus came into my life, in 1974, he also came into my music.” Only God, said Cockburn can fill that hole inside of us.

 My three favorite Cockburn songs are Lord of the Starfields, All the Diamonds, and Wondering Where the Lions Are.  The autobiography gave a fascinating backdrop to Cockburn’s life and songs, illuminating the rumours of glory.  Bruce is very experimental, experiencing himself into faith and relationship with God.  Then he reflects on it later, sometimes in very confusing and ambiguous ways. 

Cockburn has always been a restless spirit: “I craved adventure. I needed to throw myself into something unknown, travel with only vague destinations, expose myself to the elements, sail the seas.”   He says that a lot of his nomadic rootlessness and constant longing for home comes from mistrust when his father destroyed his first poems: “I have a great deal of mistrust. I have a mistrust of authority. I have a mistrust of things I don’t know intimately.  I have a mistrust that takes the form of “OK, God, I am here for you and you are here for me. But I don’t want to go all the way because you might ask something of me that I am not capable of giving or don’t want to give. So I hold myself back from that piece because of that.  I am working on that piece...”  May Bruce Cockburn may continue to inspire others to seek for home.

The Rev. Dr. Ed Hird, Rector, 
St. Simon's Church North Vancouver 
Anglican Mission in Canada 
-an article for the April 2015 Deep Cove Crier

Stretching Christmas—Carolyn R. Wilker

Our family has just celebrated another Christmas together— on January 10^th  this year—a tradition we began years ago when our Christmas dinner was intercepted by hockey tournaments and figure skating practice. It was challenging to know when to serve the dinner, and that was before our family had grown to the size it is today.

 Change is not often easy. I cannot remember how the discussion went, but we all agreed to move our feast into January—when other family festivities had come and gone, New Year’s Eve was over and the children were settled back into school.

Each year the “night before Christmas” anticipation seemed a distant past, and by then we’d perhaps settled into the New Year, our resolutions not yet broken or tampered with too much. Then we’d have our Christmas feast and celebrate our father’s early January birthday.

            Over the years, the hosting has shifted from Mom and Dad at our family home, with everyone bringing food, to (we) daughters hosting in our homes. We must be on the third round by now.

As my husband and I arrived at Joan and Ron’s home, we met my brother and nephew leaving, taking Christmas dinner to my parents who were not able to attend— their first ever miss for this occasion. I added a few things to their load before entering my sister and brother-in-law’s home.  This year was already different for the date was shifted a week later so that our brother who was coming home from the West could be with us for our Christmas dinner.

Festively decorated tables awaited everyone as we filled our plates and sat in the kitchen, living room and family room. The food was plentiful and no one would go away hungry, except by choice. The feast was varied and delicious—no turkey to be tasted this time around.

 Even if the house was quite full, at about 28 people from adults to small children and one baby, we missed those families and individuals who could not be with us, due to work schedules, and colds and flus.

We’d made yet another change from our gift-giving game to only having a children’s gift exchange, and the option of a games tournament that didn’t come to pass, although some indeed played a game popular in our family. My youngest sister, Kim, brought along the video she had created for Mom and Dad’s 65^th wedding anniversary celebration last June—an event postponed by our parents’ health issues.

The video, consisting of family photos and accompanied by some of Mom and Dad’s favourite music, made for a most time-consuming but worthwhile project featuring all members of the family, including beloved pets. Some of us watched it twice, enjoying every moment. We pulled ourselves out of our chairs to say goodbye and face the outdoor coldness and be on our way. The hours went far too fast.

By commercial standards, it seems that Christmas is over when the wrapping is torn off gifts on Christmas Day, and throughout the Christmas week. We are not the first ones stretching the season—we’d extended it just past Epiphany, the time of the church year that marks the wise men’s appearance in Bethlehem to see the new king more than two thousand years ago.

 The scene had shifted there too—from the manger to another house in the city, but it was still part of the story of Jesus’ birth. Changes that the world would watch and wonder at; changes that would affect many lives, and still does as people experience the gift of grace anew or for the first time because of the birth of a baby that God sent to the people of the time with a plan to redeem his people from their sin. And still does.

Carolyn Wilker, editor, storyteller, writing instructor, and author of Once Upon a Sandbox, a 2012 finalist in Canadian Christian writing awards.

http://www.carolynwilker.ca/

Learning to Trust - Laura J. Davis

The last time I was here I shared with you how I came to know the Lord. You can read about it here. Today, I'd love to share with you where I was when God found me. 

Before I made a decision to live my life for the Lord, I was a professional singer. Or rather, I was just getting my start professionally. I had an agent, who would send me to some of the most horrible places to sing. A backup band would be hired to support me and I would sing from about 9:00 pm to 1:00 am. I would do a 40 minute set and then break for 20 minutes. Most of the places where I sang were noisy, smokey and filled with drunks. I was about 18 years old at the the time.

These types of gigs continued until sometime after my conversion, when my pastor asked me why I was wasting the voice God gave me instead of  using it for Him. I wondered how I would be able to sing without my back-up band and what songs I would sing. I was a new Christian. I didn't know any Christian songs, only secular ones. I put the thought out of my mind.

Six-months later, that thought seemed to be hounding me and I knew I had to make a decision one way or the other. The time came when I was asked to perform at the Talent Search Awards ceremony in the Ballroom at the Royal York Hotel in Toronto. Talent Search was the agency that I had signed (they are no longer operating) with and they had these awards ceremonies every year to bring media attention to their clients. It was a very dressy affair and I sat at a table with my parents and some other people I didn't know. I was supposed to sing right before the Female Singers Awards portion of the show.

After I finished my song I went back to my table and the host took out the envelope with the Female Singer of the Year nominees. To my delight and my horror I was named Runner-Up Singer of the Year. It was a tie! I can't remember what I said when I received this award, but I do remember quite clearly what I felt and heard as I held it in my hands and went back to my table. 

"Who are you singing for? You or Me? Trust me." 

The conviction that came over my spirit was so strong, that the following day, I decided I would sing for the Lord and Him only. I backed out of all opportunities to sing in bars and told my agent I was singing for a higher power now. We parted ways amicably. 

I was now faced without a back-up band, or the ability to play any instruments, to help myself. But, convinced I was doing the right thing, I trusted God to lead me. Three months later I received a guitar for my birthday. I gave it back to God and said, "Okay, Lord if you want me to sing for you, you'll have to teach me how to play this thing." He did more than that. Within a year I had written over 22 songs.

The music was flowing and it would not stop. I had no idea that by saying yes to God, I was about to begin a 30 year career in Christian Music Ministry. So, when it stopped I was broken and shattered. 


More on that next time. Until then, please come visit me over at my website at www.laurajdavis.com. Have a blessed week!

Rehearsal for Heaven - Eleanor Shepherd

Walking into the sanctuary of our church on Sunday mornings reminds me that I am living in a global village. It really begins at the coat rack, where I quickly put my coat on a hanger so I can give a hand to my new friend, Natasha from Moldova as she tries to removes her snow suit of her wriggling little three year old, Elizabeth, whom she calls Lissa. As we walk through the door of the chapel Stephen from Nigeria greets us. Heading to my accustomed spot to drop off my bag and my Bible, I just have to stop to greet Siphe from Zimbabwe with her two darling little girls. I cannot believe how the oldest one has grown so tall. Her red glasses give her the look of a real scholar.

Although there is still ten minutes for us to greet one another before the service starts, the announcements are already scrolling on the screen in both English and Spanish. About a third of the congregation has their origins in Latin America. Colombians, Venezuelans, Mexicans and Cubans all join me at the translation equipment table, where we go to pick up the headphones. These enable our friends to understand all that is happening by hearing it in their own language. Since I am trying to learn Spanish, this service provides a great opportunity for me to listen to how it should sound.

Meanwhile the ushers are distributing the Bibles in English and Spanish, according to the choice of the worshipper. In addition, announcements in the weekly bulletin are also given in both of these languages. We want our Hispanic friends to know that this is their church.

Just as I am heading back to my seat, with the headphones, I spot my friends Asher and Suha arriving, along with Ramesh and Hema and their two little girls Suhanna and Nyanna. They find a place to sit, just behind Raj and Sushma with their two children. The Indian singing group is going to participate in the service today so the women in their blue and red flowing saris and the men in their colourful costumes add to the richness of the cultural mosaic.

When children’s’ time comes, in the middle of the service, all of the children gather at the front of the church and the scene resembles a playground at the United Nations. Action songs give all the children a chance to participate, where gestures fill in gaps in their understanding, so words are not always necessary. The important thing for the children and indeed for all of us to understand is that here is a place where we are loved and accepted, no matter what our origins or customs. We are learning to appreciate each other and the richness of what each one brings. As I watch the children, words from an old Sunday School song run through my mind.

“Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.

Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight.

Jesus loves the little children of the world. “

The children that I sang about in that song, as a child, existed mainly in storybooks that I read. I saw very few in my church that were not just like I was. Now that has all changed and the song has become more real for me.

While some things have changed significantly, there are other parts of our worship that remain consistent. Just as in our youth, we enjoyed the lively music of the brass band as we marched down the street; we still enjoy that toe tapping rhythm, not so much outside now, but certainly as we enjoy times of praise and worship, and as accompaniment to the old hymns.

As well as the many new friends who have joined us we continue to nurture friendships with those who have been there for us during the good days and the challenges that have come our way. Worship has become a unique blend of the comfortably familiar and the stimulation of innovation and new ideas propelled by the infusion of those from other cultures.

Who knew that as one of the senior members of the congregation I could learn to appreciate samosas? Gone are the days of the church chicken dinners. A highlight of our church year for me recently was the fellowship that we enjoyed a couple of weeks ago at our international potluck dinner. My shepherd’s pie and my friend’s scalloped potatoes were as novel to some of our friends as the tortillas and rice dishes were to us. Each of us brought something that we enjoyed eating from our own cultural background and we had the chance to try some dishes we had never tasted before. Those of us working in the kitchen had to ask instructions about what to reheat and how from those who brought many dishes we knew nothing about. It was a unique dining experience!

Why do I find such joy in this multicultural setting? I think it is because every week when I go to church I am reminded of Heaven. There we will join in celebration with our brothers and sisters from every country and every language. I feel like I have the privilege of participating in a weekly rehearsal for that.

Mortality, Legacy, Love, and Life - Black

Some of my most enjoyable social and inspirational moments are spent in our seniors’ residences and care facilities, whether I’m leading a scheduled worship service or engaging in an impromptu music session. I have a whale of a time singing my head off and playing an instrument, and sharing encouragement with my dear friends.

But, no illusions. It has to be getting unpleasant listening to this guy as the voice gets older, less dependable, and ornery (wants to do its own thing); but the gracious residents invite me back. It can be embarrassing, though, when singing a song or hymn I’ve known for decades, only to have the words evaporate in mid-verse, or the voice pop-fly somewhere I don’t intend. Besides, while concentrating on playing the instrument I seem to have insufficient brain power left for concentrating on pitching my voice and singing the words correctly, and as a result I sing flat and words come out jumbled. (Didn’t used to do that, but it happens now!)

Do you identify with my experience on one level or another? Those things which were no problem from the time of our youth become increasingly problematic. It might show up in a little breathlessness when hurrying, or in one occasionally aching joint, then another, and then another–and more frequently; that sort of thing.

It’s a reminder (as if one needs reminding) that we live our temporary lives in an aging body. Although good diet, dietary supplements, exercise, and all-round healthy living are to be encouraged, and may result in the enjoyment of a higher level of mobility and health–and for longer–than if we didn’t engage in them, the fact is our lives as lived here are temporary.

Once the realization strikes some people that they aren’t going to be around forever–for the invincibility of youth has fled, and their ‘up-an-go has up-and-went’–they begin to face their mortality. Some prominent personalities, tycoons, and leading politicians attempt to set in place a legacy, such as establishing a foundation that will better the lives of others.

For example, a century ago the Carnegie Foundation provided for the promotion of literacy and the arts in North America and Britain by funding the establishment of libraries and art-related institutions. Prime Minister Jean Chrétien set up an aid program for Africa. Bill and Melinda Gates of Microsoft Corporation channel funding and resources towards areas such as education and healthcare. A ‘temporary immortalisation’–to live on in collective memory– may be achieved by doing significant deeds to enhance the lives of others before passing off the stage of life and time. Few of us have either that kind of money or influence. Have we no legacy to leave?

Thank God for people in our community making a positive difference in the lives of children, youth, adults, the physically and developmentally challenged, and seniors, as they give of their time and share their abilities. Doing this with genuine humility and grace reveals loving action. "Love is from God," and "God is love," wrote St. John (1 John 4:7a, 16). And, "The world and its desires pass away, but the [person] who does the will of God lives forever" (in 1 John 2:17).

We can enjoy a legacy of life now and forever as we respond to God’s love through receiving the gift of His Son into our lives. I daren’t leave this life without Him!

~~+~~

The above article was first published in the Southwestern Ontario newspaper, The Watford Guide Advocate, June 19, 2008 - home of Peter A. Black's weekly column, P-Pep!

He is the author of the children's / family book "Parables from the Pond," which is being used in a variety of settings.

Email: raisegaze@execulink.com