This past weekend I was blessed to attend a Handel's Messiah performance by the Handel and Haydn Society at the Boston Symphony Orchestra. It was conducted by Harry Christophers, and featured some incredible soloists, such as the countertenor Daniel Taylor.
To say that I was moved by the experience would
certainly be an understatement. The swells of sound, the staccato of the
violins, the voices pure and clear, the electric conducting of Mr.
Christophers...sent chills down my spine, brought me to tears, and moved
me to want to stand up and shout: "AMEN!!!" many times. The
three-hour piece is pure inspiration from Baroque composer George
Frideric Handel. Handel selected many biblical passages (particularly
from Isaiah and Corinthians) and put them to soaring music in a
theological narrative that begins with anticipation of the birth of
Christ, rejoices in the incarnation, laments the sorrows and suffering
of an embodied existence, and then finally celebrates the ultimate
triumph over death through the promise of the resurrection. It is a
powerful, powerful piece of music, and one I have long loved.
Something about the amazing energy of this
particular performance of the Messiah really resonated deeply within me,
and played a theological chord in my heart in a way that only
soul-stirring music can. What I found myself feeling, in my bones and
flesh and tears, was the sheer improbability and pathos of the
incarnation, which I explore in three phrases from the Messiah that
particularly stayed with me.
For unto us, a child is born... (Isaiah 9:6)
What struck me this time when I heard this oft-repeated refrain was the "us." For unto us a
child is born. We are all waiting, like Mary, as eager parents, ready
to receive this new life in the world. But we aren't just waiting for
something we hope will happen. We are waiting for something that is
inevitable and already-done. God is already with us. God is coming to
us. God will come again to us.
The kingdom of the earth is become the kingdom of our Lord (Revelation 11:15)
In the famous Hallelujah Chorus, this line is particularly
memorable. The potential for transforming the suffering in this world is
so rich, because through the incarnation, the sacred and the profane
are brought together, the kingdom of earth becomes the kingdom of God.
We have the potential to bring about divine love and justice in this
broken place, because God came in a broken body to bring good news to
us. This world that we live in is sacred, already blessed, and yet
aching for healing through the further flowering of God's love made
flesh.
And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. (1 Corinthians 15:20)
In God's decision to come as a human being to this world we are all redeemed and blessed in our own bodies ("...and the Word was made flesh.")
Our bodies are no less human (worms will still destroy our dead flesh
buried in the dark earth), and yet in their very human-ness they are
capable of seeing God. This means that each movement of our limbs, each
neuron firing in our brains, each breath...has the capacity to be a
prayer. When we move we move in God, when we breathe we breathe in God.
This incarnation has already happened. We have been granted this amazing
gift and we await its coming again, within ourselves. We are already
blessed. We await Christ's coming as a human child Advent after Advent,
day after day, breath after breath.
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