Sermon: "The Dark Mile" by Dr. Michael B. Brown
Much of Sunday's music is centered on Psalm 23, and during the course of worship there will be translations of it emanating from three centuries: The Scottish Psalter (1650), Isaac Watts (1719) and Henry Baker (1868).
Singing Psalms has always been central to Christian worship. In the words of John Calvin, "Even [the Apostle] Paul speaks not only of praying by mouth but also of singing. And we know by experience that singing has great force and vigor to move and inflame the heart...to praise God with a more vehement and ardent zeal." The centuries-old debate, however, is over who shall sing and what exactly is to be sung.
Of Psalms and Psalters
In the medieval church Psalms were chanted primarily by "pros" - the community of monks and nuns, priests and the choir. With the Reformation came the desire for more participatory worship on the part of the congregation, forgoing the "designated praiser" approach. Consequently, Metrical Psalters were created out of a need for more singer-friendly Psalms which could be sung by laypeople. One of the earliest Psalters was the Genevan Psalter (1562), assembled over a 26-year period by John Calvin (1509-1564). Originally published in French, it molded the Psalms into rhyming, metrical stanzas while maintaining strict adherence to Scripture.
However, it wasn't long before people were complaining that the "new" Genevan Psalter was still too difficult for common people to sing, due to the variety of meters it used. A few decades later the Scottish Psalter (1650) solved this dilemma by making every Psalm conform to common meter (8.6.8.6.) while still adhering as closely as possible to a literal Bible translation. It is from this Scottish Psalter that Sunday's middle hymn, "The Lord's My Shepherd," is taken. Beautiful as it is, the strict parameters of meter and literal translation make for a few rough edges around the poetry.
A Poetic Paraphrase
Enter Isaac Watts (1674-1748), otherwise known as the Father of English Hymnody. The son of a clergyman, legend has it that when Isaac was in his twenties he complained to his father that the Psalms sung in church were "rough and hard." In response, Isaac Watts, Sr. challenged his son to come up with his own Psalter. Isaac met his father's challenge, publishing completely new settings of all 150 Psalms in 1719. (In 1729 it was published in America by none other than Benjamin Franklin.) Not only did Watts smooth out the rough edges in previous translations, he also "updated" David's Psalms to include an overtly Christian perspective. In doing so he moved hymn-writing away from the accepted norms of strict literal biblical translation into a new genre incorporating poetic paraphrase and emotional subjectivity. For traditionalists - those accustomed to singing nothing but Scripture in church - this marked a dramatic and controversial departure. It might surprise you to learn that Watts' beloved Christmas hymn, "Joy to the World" is actually his paraphrase of Psalm 98. Biblical poetic license indeed!
Thus, when the choir sings Watt's "My Shepherd Will Supply My need" as the offertory on Sunday, you may notice some "extracurricular" verses that go beyond Scripture. For example, the original "still waters" (as in "He leads me beside the still waters") has now become the "living stream" - a clear reference to Christ as the living water. Instead of merely leading us "in paths of righteousness," Watts' version says God "brings my wandering spirit back when I forsake His ways". This recalls Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son and inserts an evangelistic call to repentance.
Watts' greatest poetic liberty with his Psalm 23 has also become one of the most beautiful verses in Christian hymnody. Embellishing the idea of dwelling in God's house forever Watts writes, "There would I find a settled rest, while others go and come - no more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home." These words add significant emotional depth, saying it's not just in whose house you live that matters, it's whose child you are. Others will come and go, but for those who are God's own children His house is home.
Making It Personal
A century and a half later, Sir Henry Williams Baker (1821-1877) penned an even more personal paraphrase of Psalm 23 which soprano Wendy Baker (no known relation) will sing on Sunday: "The King of Love My Shepherd Is." Baker's powerful text is as much about us being the Lord's sheep as it is about the Lord being our Shepherd. The notion of belonging takes precedence - both in terms of who we choose to belong to and Who chooses us.
In his Psalm 23 paraphrase Baker also inserts a bit of Jesus' story about the Shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to go and search for the one that has gone missing (Matthew 18:12). These poignant lines from Baker's pen were later to become his dying words: "Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, and yet in love He sought me, and on His shoulder gently laid, and home, rejoicing, brought me." Just as God walks with us through life's valleys, tirelessly searching after us in love, so will we someday be carried gently to our eternal home on the shoulders of the Good Shepherd.
What It All Means
One thing the psalmist and every subsequent poet/translator agree on is that there will be valleys in life - "The Dark Mile," as Dr. Brown's sermon title calls it. I always remember the words of former Marble minister Ron Patterson: "Valley now or valley later." Those valleys we all must traverse can be exterior or interior, physical or spiritual, seen or unseen. The question isn't so much why bad things happen to good people, but what good people do when bad things happen.
Another central tenet of Psalm 23 is that wherever the road may lead, "Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me." We need not suffer alone. In the words of Barbara Brown Taylor, "To most of us the worst thing that can happen is not to suffer without reason but to suffer without God. All other pain pales in comparison to divine abandonment." In answer to our cries God's silence can sometimes feel lonely and disheartening. But we are not truly alone; God is with us in the valley, whether we realize it or not.
A talented singer, actor and dancer, Russell Barnes grew up in Virginia and studied theater arts and education at Howard University. By age eighteen he had his equity card and had already worked as an actor, choreographer and director. He moved to New York and hit the ground running, performing in Broadway tours and regional theater. Soon he was whisked off to Europe, performing his way through Budapest, Vienna and Germany.
A month into his engagement in Germany he started noticing weakness in his legs and was having difficulties executing turns to his left. Cutting his tour short, he returned to New York and had surgery on his cervical spine. Eight weeks later while standing in the choir loft he began to feel weak and had to sit for the rest of the service. The following Monday on his way to the doctor's office he collapsed. An infection left him paralyzed from the waist down for thirteen months. In his second month in the hospital blood clots formed in his legs and traveled to his lung and even his brain. The next ten months were spent in a nursing home.
With his budding Broadway career in ruins, Russell faced the challenge of living with paralysis - an unimaginable existence. He needed every available resource just to go on living. Russell writes:
"Although I have retired my tap shoes, I am so blessed to serve God with my gift of music. My spirit fills with joy and healing each time I sing praise in rehearsal or in service with the Festival of Voices. This Hymn from my from my childhood has gently been ministering to me. "God has smiled on me, He has set me free; God has smiled on me, He has been good to me."
Russell Barnes has truly lived Psalm 23. By God's grace he has found miraculous strength to overcome adversity. We each walk through our valley sooner or later - some may be life-altering like Russell's. Through it all we can trust these words of assurance by Fanny Crosby that will conclude Sunday's service:
All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers the winding path I tread,
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living Bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul a-thirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo, a spring of joy I see.