Rising – Lang, "Have Mercy, my God"
David Lang – “Have mercy, my God”
from the little match girl passion
Sunrise, Friday, June 5
Here, daughter, here I am
I should be bound as you were bound
All that I deserve is
What you have endured
Rising w/ The Crossing: Spring 2020 comes to a close today.
Twelve weeks, sixty sunrises.
We will be back on July 6, after a break.
Time to contemplate what’s next, what we missed, what is waiting for us.
Good morning.
Today we were to gather for The Month of Moderns.
Instead, we return to the beginning.
To David Lang’s the little match girl passion, with which we launched Rising w/.
Look here, my God.
See my tears fall. See my tears fall.
the little match girl passion draws on the Gospel of Matthew.
Timely...what, with all the talk about holding up Bibles these days.
We are reminded of our favorite moment in John: “You are my friends...”
We have thought these words many times in the past twelve weeks...in the past six days.
We have thought of how many times we could say these words and do not.
“You are my friends.”
How many times we wish we had said them.
How many times
I wish
I had...
Penance and remorse
Tear my sinful heart in two
I have thought this,
typing, in my little writing space
in our shelter
the clock striking 4, 4.30, 5...
listening
occasional stirring of Steven in the next room
comfort in that
and in the sound of the coffee clicking on, brewing in fits of steam for twenty minutes
next, the Birds
then, the Sun
my fingers reaching toward something on these keys:
a way to talk about music?
talk about what The Crossing is to me?
the why of what we do – of what we want to do?
or maybe, my fingers struggling, seeking what is absent,
seeking to ‘not be alone’
my fingers on these keys, talking to Kyle’s and Kevin’s fingers, editing, curating,
talking back to my fingers,
and my fingers again
on these keys
reaching toward your fingers.
your fingers on keys, on screens, opening an email, inviting us into your kitchen,
your living room, your morning chair –
a patio in Tampa, bayside in Maine, a backyard in Austin,
a bed in Philadelphia.
Opening a portal with your fingers. Reaching.
Mine, less afraid,
not shivering, not striking a last match,
just reaching.
Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold.
For what?
For connection.
Listening.
Community.
The themes of Rising w/.
In Sunrises.
In the curious combination of despair and hope in David’s match girl.
The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair,
which hung in curls on her shoulders,
but she regarded them not.
Some of our favorite music to sing lies in the little match girl passion.
Some of my favorite music to conduct.
Complete concentration. Total ‘giving over’ to the whole. Gratitude in the sound.
It’s interesting that we don’t think about that in the moment.
The music just takes us there. It tells us what to do, and we listen.
[A metal scraper is drawn across a brake drum for ninety seconds and all I can think about is my Mother.]
This morning, six movements leading to the moment with which we started the journey of Rising w/, and then, that movement reprised – now, different: Jimmy’s somber solo in a new light, after twelve weeks of...history:
Have mercy, my God.
Mercy.
I am apprehensive of what will come, waiting for the Sun, fingers at rest.
I am uncertain who I will be, absent fingers on keys, reaching, absent singing.
But, I am not alone.
I am We.
And we are grateful
for twelve weeks of thinking about purpose.
twelve weeks of listening.
twelve weeks of friends.
Rising.
Not looking down.
Looking forward.
Looking up.
Together.
Ready.
Be well.
- Donald
for The Whole Team @ The Crossing
We thank you for listening.
the little match girl passion (excerpt)
3. dearest heart
4. In an old apron
5. Penance and remorse
6. Lights were shining
7. Patience, patience!
8. Ah! perhaps
9. Have mercy, my God
words and music by David Lang, adapted from the words of H.C. Andersen, H.P. Paull, Picander, and Saint Matthew
recorded live in concert at The Crossing @ Christmas, December 22, 2019 at the Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill
audio by Paul Vazquez of Digital Mission Audio Services
video art by Dan Cole
* * *
3. Dearest heart
Dearest heart
Dearest heart
What did you do that was so wrong?
What was so wrong?
Dearest heart
Dearest heart
Why is your sentence so hard?
–paraphrasing Bach’s No. 3: Chorale, Herzliebster Jesu
4. In an old apron
In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.
5. Penance and remorse
Penance and remorse
Tear my sinful heart in two
My teardrops
May they fall like rain down upon your poor face
May they fall down like rain
My teardrops
Here, daughter, here I am
I should be bound as you were bound
All that I deserve is
What you have endured
Penance and remorse.
Tear my sinful heart in two
My penance
My remorse
My penance
–paraphrasing Bach’s No. 6: Alto Aria, Buss’ und Reu’
6. Lights were shining
Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New Year’s Eve – yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold.
7. Patience, patience!
Patience.
Patience!
–from Bach’s No. 35: Tenor Aria, Geduld, geduld!
8. Ah! perhaps
Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one out—“scratch!” how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass ornament. How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand. She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil, and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.
9. Have mercy, my God
Have mercy, my God.
Look here, my God.
See my tears fall. See my tears fall.
Have mercy, my God. Have mercy.
My eyes are crying.
My heart is crying, my God.
See my tears fall.
See my tears fall, my God.
–paraphrasing Bach’s No. 39: Alto Aria, Erbarme dich