O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel; you open and no one can shut; you shut and no one can open: Come and lead the prisoners from the prison house, those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.
cf Isaiah 22.22, 42.7
I've been recording these at Nearest Church. I'm there some mornings to practise the organ anyway, and the acoustic is far more forgiving than the less resonant atmosphere in my carpeted music room at home.
This morning, try as I might, I could not get the door to the church unlocked. Other people have complained about that door, but I've usually been able to use it with no trouble. But this morning? Twenty minutes of wrangling with the lock, and I still wasn't in. I was late for my next appointment so abandoned the project until later in the day... when the lock worked quite easily for me.
The other thing this antiphon puts me in mind of is the mental prisons we so often create for ourselves. We build little walls for ourselves, meant to protect us from situations which are uncontrollable or frightening. That works very well for a time, but eventually the walls we build can trap us. Perhaps that is the prison from which we wait to be freed.
Or perhaps, yet again, it is late and I am tired...
I wonder if the prison you imagine in your own mind is in fact the feeling of being locked out of where you feel you belong. Reverse Psychology perhaps.
The lament is a cry from the heart to God - come and free me to be your servant - your singing of it is profoundly moving.
Yes, Margaret, it's me singing these. I'm glad you like them.
Ernest, that sense of being locked out, rather than hemmed in -- I hadn't thought of it that way at all but it rings true. But perhaps those walls are in my mind, too. And who can tell which side of a wall is the inside, and which is the outside? Either way, only God can unlock the gate.
Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.
-Leonard Cohen
I have come into this world to experience this: men so true to love they would rather die before speaking an unkind word, men so true their lives are His covenant - the promise of hope.
I have come into this world to see this: the sword drop from men's hands even at the height of their arc of rage because we have finally realized there is just one flesh we can wound.
I'm a musician, teacher, student, searcher, a chaser after the wind. I'm not sure where I'm going or how I'll know when I get there but it sure beats standing still.
(Photo from here.)
4 comments:
Song--is that you singing?!!! It's beautiful!
All of 'em!
Song,
A really beautiful portrayal of the Song.
I wonder if the prison you imagine in your own mind is in fact the feeling of being locked out of where you feel you belong. Reverse Psychology perhaps.
The lament is a cry from the heart to God - come and free me to be your servant - your singing of it is profoundly moving.
Yes, Margaret, it's me singing these. I'm glad you like them.
Ernest, that sense of being locked out, rather than hemmed in -- I hadn't thought of it that way at all but it rings true. But perhaps those walls are in my mind, too. And who can tell which side of a wall is the inside, and which is the outside? Either way, only God can unlock the gate.
Thank you both.
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