Transcendence Over Certainty
Practicing the presence of God through (Christmas) music
When I’m exhausted with the quest for faith certainty, and the quest to not quest for certainty, I turn to art: poetry, literature, theater, and especially music. Music was where I first encountered the beauty of the Lord as a child, and it’s been my spiritual refuge ever since. The sacred music of Christmas invites me each year to a specific form of meditation, and I’d like to share this practice with you today.
This discipline is one I practice in solitude, though I find it ultimately compels me outwards towards community. I select a piece of music, sacred or otherwise, and listen with earbuds to isolate the experience. I give my attention to the lyrics and my even fuller attention to the communication of sound. I hold up what I hear and feel before the Lord and wait. It’s his heart that I desire, his wisdom, grandeur, and mystery. These are things that surpass words, and they absolutely surpass certainty. I don’t experience something amazing every time. But with continual practice, I meet more and more of the divine.
The following are my specific meditations from the song, “Angels From the Realms of Glory” performed by the Piano Guys, David Archuleta, and Peter Hollens. You can listen here, or watch here. I keep returning to this song because of the centrality of glory, both in words and atmosphere. In this musical meditation I’ve found freedom, even if brief, from the pressure to figure out faith. I’ve found the love that drew me to Love so long ago.
Meditations on Angels From the Realms of Glory
Resonance: There is mystery in how a single human voice can project, grow, echo, and linger. How something that seems so small, one voice from one man, can sound like something so much bigger is a wonderful mystery. I think of the Kingdom of God and the metaphor of a mustard seed. Something tiny, deep in the soil, suddenly becomes a tree with branches of rest for the birds of the air. I see the beauty of the flourishing, growing Kingdom when I hear the resonance of a human voice.
Chorus: When the chorus joins the soloists there’s another growth of sound distinct from resonance. Hundreds of singing human voices are so much more than the sum of their parts, they create a new sound entirely. It’s not a loud voice, it’s a new voice. This turns my thoughts to human relationship. While each person is a beautiful bearer of the Imago Dei, true flourishing is realized when gathered in community, the body of Christ. God designed this; he ordained that healing would come when our diverse selves gather together. I think back on a precious experience of community I had this year, and how I continue to hold the experiential hope that it can be found again. Humans flourish when they join with, listen to, care for, and celebrate with one another. There is no better way to be alive.
Communication: As the song opens, the soloists pass the music back and forth with eye contact, gestures, and facial expressions, creating a seamless melody. There is no faltering, interruption, or awkwardness. This type of complex interplay only comes about by practice and by nonverbal communication. I find it endlessly fascinating that we have been created so intricately as to be capable of this wordless fluency. Who could have designed this save for a far more intricate and fascinating God?
Story: The way that the melody’s story becomes complete through the contributions of each voice draws my thoughts to the Trinity. Rather than viewing Them as a frustrating puzzle, I can welcome what each of Them has to teach about Themselves: a Spirit that flows like the wind, a beloved Savior, a great Creator. They are the divine.
Strings: The cello is central to this song’s melody, and other strings weave the background. As a violinist I’m biased, but I believe strings are uniquely suited to carrying intimate sound. Maybe it’s because of how the instruments themselves are held close to the heart or resting on the body, or maybe it’s because they are constructed of such warm materials of the earth. Either way, they create a sound of great love, a sound well suited for choruses of In Excelsis Deo.
That’s where I met the Lord this year in music. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this practice; I’d encourage you to try it out with music that you are uniquely drawn to. Of all the gifts God has placed in this physical world, I am so grateful for this, especially at Christmas. Centuries of saints have produced audible tributes to the incarnation, we are blessed to experience them again and again.