How then can mortal tongue hope to express the image of such endless perfectness?
The words to William Harris' Faire is the Heaven (the choral anthem is a masterpiece in itself; you can listen here ["http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yh-6SX484ZM"], but it isn't the focus of today's post) showed in a message sent to me from St. Thomas. Little did I know that this collection of words is taken from An Hymn of Heavenly Beauty, a much longer poem written by 16th-century English poet Edmund Spenser, which you can find here ["http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174480"]. I got to skim other parts of the poem a little bit; it has very beautiful and profound words. When I have more time, I want to go back and read it in its entirety.
How then can mortal tongue hope to express the image of such endless perfectness?
It's a tough question, particularly for those of us who desire/make a living of/seek to worship. We are called to worship God as much as possible, in every moment, when things are going well and especially when they aren't. I find it rather demoralizing when told that no matter how much I worship/praise God, I cannot properly -- nor completely -- express my praise and gratitude for everything that he has done. But, I also know that what I can do does please him, so long as my all is put into it: heart, soul, body and mind. We know that God is endless, and his perfectness is endless. But we also know that he knows we cannot come close to expressing all of what he is on our own strength, nor do we need to. All we need to do is stand in awe of him, and have our all standing in said awe. They say heaven is a beautiful place, where merely beholding God's glory will account for an infinite amount of pleasure for us, far more than the mere earthly pleasures, and far more than what we could possibly imagine God's glory being.
Gerre Hancock made worship his life. From his organ improvisation to his leadership to sharing light moments telling stories during rehearsal, every act of his was directed toward the greater glory to God. The choirs that he directed (particularly the one at St. Thomas) often brightened days of those whose bright days naturally were few and far in between. He demanded the best from us choir members, because he wanted to give God his best, and we were a part of his lifelong act of worship.
News of his passing arrived my inbox this morning completely out of the blue. Well, not entirely. He had undergone double (or triple?)-bypass surgery 12 years ago when I was in the 8th grade, and I knew then that his days were numbered. Each year I gave thanks that he was still around, but each time it hit me that it might be his last year, given his heart problems. This news hasn't completely hit me, probably because I hadn't seen him since 2004. Because of my distance from New York, any of the happenings would hit me less as I have not been nearly as connected with the St. Thomas community as many other former peers.
I am choosing to go to New York next week. 2 1/2 years ago, when I was still living in Minnesota, I found out my high school physics teacher passed away ["http://confessionbyainsertidentityhere.blogspot.com/2009/09/changing-future.html"] and I didn't come back to Chicago for the memorial. I had my reasons at the time for not going, but there also was a cost: I was unable to honor a man I looked up to and counted one of my favorites at the school. This time I'm going. As soon as I find out when the memorial service is, I will schedule my plane flights and make arrangements to stay with people.
How then can mortal tongue hope to express the image of endless perfectness? By spending one's lifetime giving everything to God with everything one has. This is something for me to ponder as I finally get myself around to really finding out what I was put on this earth to do.