Month: January 2020

Today is the feast day of two important people in my life, my cousin Cheryl Deister, and Deacon Jack Veiman.

I remember especially my cousin, Cheryl, who died unexpectedly on this day in 2018. Ruthie and I had the great pleasure of staying with Cheryl and Buster (the love of her life) in October of 2017. We had a wonderful time visiting with Cheryl and my with my cousin, Kathy, and Kathy’s husband, Frank. Our stay with Cheryl was one of the highlights of 2017 for Ruthie and I.

Cheryl’s death followed closely on the heels of my mother-in-law’s sudden death several weeks before. In the midst of grieving the death of Ruth’s mom, we found ourselves also grieving the death of my cousin.

Cheryl had never married, but she was very involved and close with Frank and Kathy, and her nephews and their families. In many ways, the role she played in their lives was very similar to that of my sister, Mary Ruth in the lives of my kids.

Much of her life was also centered on Buster, her French poodle. Ruthie and I remember Cheryl cooking meals for Buster to eat e.g. steak and all sorts of other goodies. Around a year or so after Cheryl’s death, Buster died suddenly, probably from missing his beloved Cheryl, or so I would like to think.

Cheryl was generous in all things, including the giving of herself to the needs of others. She took meticulous care of her mom, my Aunt Isabel, in my Aunt’s last years, looking after all of my Aunt’s needs medically, financially, emotionally.

In memory of my cousin, Cheryl, I composed this Mazurka (a Polish Dance) in February of 2018.

Jack and Darlene were very good mentors for me while I was in diaconal formation and as a newly ordained deacon. As it usually is when ordained, you quickly get busy with work, with ministering, and with family that it is easy to lose touch with other deacons. As busy as I have been, I have never forgotten how important certain deacon couples have been in my life. Jack and Darlene are one of the those deacon couples.

Here is a prayer that is commonly said at the funeral of a deacon. I believe it expresses well the ministry of a permanent deacon in the Church. It aptly describes the ministry of Jack and Darlene in our Archdiocese.

God of mercy,
You gave us Deacon Jack Veiman to proclaim the riches of Christ
through the Word of God
and in service to all of God’s children,
particularly to the poor, the despised, and the hopeless.
By the help of his prayers
may we grow in knowledge of you,
be eager to do good,
and learn to walk before you
by living the truth of the gospel.
Grant this through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and brother,
who lives and reigns with you, and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The word “light” is featured very prominently in the scriptures for this weekend. We hear from Isaiah, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.”  (Isaiah 9:1) In the psalm for this week we hear, “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?” (Psalm 27:1). The quote from Isaiah is featured in Matthew’s Gospel, as Matthew relates the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, then follows with Jesus calling Peter and Andrew, James and John to follow him.

Anyone who has gotten up in the night and whose feet are bruised  and injured from stumbling over dog bones and stepping on their kids’ Lego pieces on the floor will attest that light is a very important element in human life. Had we turned on a light, the frequency of stubbed toes and sore feet would be greatly reduced. Light illuminates the obstacles that are in our paths, helping us to avoid that which may hurt us.

What is said about the necessity of physical light in our lives can also be said about the necessity of spiritual light in our lives. We all need spiritual light in our lives. Each and every one of us has places of darkness in our lives. That darkness can impede and injure us just as readily as being physically injured by stumbling over objects in a darkened room. Some of that darkness is of our own doing. Our egos all like to invent a false sense of self stripping us of our authenticity as people. There is also the darkness that is imposed upon us by others. I think of the many people to whom I have ministered who lived in domestic violence. As evil and dangerous it is to be physically abused, the emotional and spiritual abuse is far more insidious and inflicts greater evil upon the person being abused.

Into that abyss of spiritual darkness comes Jesus. Jesus, the human personification of the God who created us in love, lights up the darkness we carry about within illuminating the parasitical falsehoods that have attached themselves to us.

Is it any wonder that Peter and Andrew, James and John left their livelihoods to follow Jesus at the mere calling of their names? In that minimal command to “come and follow me”, Jesus revealed something to these men they never knew about themselves, so much so, that they immediately dropped what they were doing to follow him. As has been related to us in the Gospels, Jesus continued to illuminate the obstacles that were spiritually in the way in the lives of his followers. Exposed to the light of God in the person of Jesus, his followers, in turn, were able to spread God’s light to all the world.

Today, Jesus is calling us to the light. Jesus is commanding us to drop everything we are doing so we may follow him. Along the way, Jesus’ light will illuminate within us the obstacles that clog our pathway to God, so that we may avoid them and grow stronger in God’s light. As with the early followers of Jesus, illuminated and bathed in God’s light, we are to carry God’s light into our world.

On this 2^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, we hear from John’s version of the baptism of Jesus in which John the Baptist relates his reaction to his encounter with Jesus. John the Baptist tells his disciples that Jesus is the reason for his ministry of baptism. It was the mission of John the Baptist to prepare the way for the world to encounter Jesus and be transformed by that encounter. John relates how the Holy Spirit anointed Jesus as Jesus rose from the waters of the Jordan. Following this accounting, John the Baptist willingly diminishes and fades away, so that the salvific mission of Jesus may grow.

In this wonderful pericope from the prophet, Isaiah, we can see the words spoken about the prophet projected onto the person of Jesus who will come.

The LORD said to me: You are my servant,
Israel, through whom I show my glory.
Now the LORD has spoken
who formed me as his servant from the womb,
that Jacob may be brought back to him
and Israel gathered to him;
and I am made glorious in the sight of the LORD,
and my God is now my strength!
It is too little, the LORD says, for you to be my servant,
to raise up the tribes of Jacob,
and restore the survivors of Israel; I will make you a light to the nations,
that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth. (Isaiah 49:3, 5-6, NAB)

Jesus is the glorious servant of God, who made God his strength. Though Jesus’ earthly ministry was  isolated to his Jewish brothers and sisters, it took his ascension into heaven for his light to reach all the  nations. Jesus planted his divine light in the hearts of his disciples, and it was his disciples that carried the light of Jesus to the ends of the Earth. The light of Jesus has been passed on from heart to heart to the present.

We are reminded on this 2^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, that the light of Christ we carry in our hearts was given to us from Jesus at our baptism. Christ’s divine light grew in us through the love, the example and the instruction of our parents, our friends, and our community. As disciples of Jesus, we are called to carry the light that God has given us and spread that light to all we encounter.

On this final day of the Christmas Season, let us take reflect on the number of “theophanies” with which this Season has given us. A Theophany is a manifestation of God.

On the liturgies of Christmas Eve, the first theophany is that of the Angels to the shepherds in the field and later manifested in the person of the infant Jesus to them in the stable at Bethlehem.. On the Epiphany, God is manifested in Jesus to the Magi. In the presentation of Jesus in the temple, God is manifested in Jesus to Simeon and Anna. In the finding of the 12 year old Jesus in the Temple, God is manifested in Jesus as he conversed with the scribes and teachers of the Temple. Today in his baptism in the Jordan, God is manifested in Jesus to John the Baptist and those at the river.

The Baptism of Jesus raises two questions for us who have been baptized. Baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus are we a living theophany of God in our world? Do our lives manifest God in our world?

The mystic/contemplative and doctor of the Church, Teresa of Avila says this particularly well.

“Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”

Or, as Edwina Gately writes so wonderfully from, There Was No Path So I Trod One (1996, 2013):

Called to Become

You are called to become
A perfect creation.
No one is called to become
Who you are called to be.
It does not matter
How short or tall
Or thick-set or slow
You may be.
It does not matter
Whether you sparkle with life
Or are as silent as a still pool.
Whether you sing your song aloud
Or weep alone in darkness.
It does not matter
Whether you feel loved and admired
Or unloved and alone
For you are called to become
A perfect creation.
No one’s shadow
Should cloud your becoming.
No one’s light
Should dispel your spark.
For the Lord delights in you.
Jealously looks upon you
And encourages with gentle joy
Every movement of the Spirit
Within you.
Unique and loved you stand.
Beautiful or stunted in your growth
But never without hope and life.
For you are called to become
A perfect creation.
This becoming may be
Gentle or harsh.
Subtle or violent.
But it never ceases.

Never pauses or hesitates.
Only is—
Creative force—
Calling you
Calling you to become
A perfect creation.

So, on this Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, how well are we living our baptismal call to manifest God in our lives to our world? What do we need to change in our lives to manifest God finer in our lives?

The scriptural text upon which this song is based is Isaiah, 52: 7-10, the first reading on Christmas Day.

How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,
who brings good news, who announces salvation,
who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”
Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices,together they sing for joy;
for in plain sight they see the return of the Lord to Zion.
Break forth together into singing,
you ruins of Jerusalem;
for the Lord has comforted his people,
he has redeemed Jerusalem.
The Lord has bared his holy arm
before the eyes of all the nations;
and all the ends of the earth
shall see the salvation of our God.
(Isaiah 52: 7-10, NRSV)

It is little wonder that this passage from Isaiah is chosen as the first reading on Christmas Day morning? For Christians, it encompasses much of what is heard in the Christmas narratives, from the Angel’s announcement to the shepherds to the visitation of the Magi. However, is this merely about Christians projecting the birth of Jesus upon the sacred texts of Isaiah, or is what Isaiah saying impacts the presence of God in our world, regardless of whether one is Christian or not?

For those of us who live in the northern plains of Minnesota, the notion of shouting anything from mountain tops is very remote, especially in an area that is, by and large, fairly flat. For the Jewish people of Isaiah’s time and Jesus’ time, anything important to say is proclaimed from atop a mountain. From the covenant of Moses on Mount Sinai to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, important proclamations were made from a place of geographical height.

However, it is not the place of proclamation that is emphasized in this text. Rather, it is about what is proclaimed. The joyful news of God’s Reign cannot be confined to only the mountainous regions of our world. This joyful news needs to be borne upon the feet of all of us who hear the news. As it has been passed to us, so much more must we pass this Good News to all we encounter.

We are entrusted as messengers of God to 1) announce peace, 2) announce salvation, and 3) announce that the Good News of God’s Reign is here and now and supplants the rule of petty humanity with all our human monarchies, dictators, and false semblance of governments that have largely turned our world into one great ruin.

The one consistent message of most Religions is that God reigns over all the Earth and will ultimately restore our Earth to what God intended at Creation. As messengers of God, we are to use our voices, our gifts, our lives to announce this Good News of God’s Reign to all throughout our lives.

Of all the Christmas motets I have composed, this is my favorite. Of all the reimagined piano arrangements of my Christmas motets and psalms, this piano arrangement is closest to what I composed for four-part choir. The only difference is I added a little Coda to end the song.

I composed this motet initially in 1986 for my choirs at St Hubert Catholic Church. I added a third verse with a soprano descant in 1987 and submitted the motet to the Association of Liturgical Musicians (a professional association in the Archdiocese of St Paul and Minneapolis) in a contest they held for local liturgical music composers. While it did not get first prize, it came in third. ALM did record all the winning music on tape at a massive concert. Sadly, the cassette tape of that concert has been lost over the ensuing years.

The motet is composed in the key of A major and is in two part, AB, form with a Coda. I originally scored the motet for both piano and organ accompaniment.

I present two versions of this hymn. The first is a simple arrangement I recorded for voice and guitar (found on my album “Through Jesus”. The second is the version for piano only on my album, “Songs of the Refugee Christ at Christmas.”

Here we are on the 17th day and second to last day of the Christmas Season. Epiphany has come and gone. Many Christmas trees have either been placed outside (if they are real) or dismantled and stored for next year (if they are artificial). The multi-color outdoor lights and displays that decorated homes are now turned off. I remember Ruthie telling me about her Uncle Bill Burg, who had an artificial Christmas tree all decorated which he would pick up in its entirety at the end of the Christmas Season and place it in a closet, awaiting the next Christmas.

My son Luke, who loves the lights, colors, and sounds of Christmas, despondently said, as he took down the Christmas tree, “Now all we got left is a long, cold winter.” With Winter in Minnesota lasting often through the middle of April these days of Climate Change, January and February are just months that drag along slowly, going from weather that is sub-zero for weeks, to ice storms, and blizzards. I remember canceling weekend Masses in the middle of April last year because of a late winter blizzard.

Of course, Christmas had to end for Jesus too. The song I present for this 17th day of the Christmas Season is based on Luke’s account of Jesus staying behind in Jerusalem following a major religious festival that he and his parents had attended.

“Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” He said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor. (Luke 2:41-52. NRSV)

This song is a musical representation of the 12 year old Jesus in the Temple. The anxiousness of Mary and Joseph in seeking out their lost son is reflected in the quickness of the 3 over 2 motif in melody A. The calm, quiet of melody B is indicative of the adolescent Jesus asking questions from and also teaching the scribes in the Temple. Melody A returns as the Holy Family returns from the Temple to their home in Nazareth.

I composed this as a present for Blanche and Ivo Schutrop. Blanche and Ivo were longtime parishioners of St. Hubert. Blanche served as a volunteer sacristan, tutor for the school, and trained communion to the homebound volunteers and organized and matched those volunteers to those who were homebound. Blanche never got beyond an 8^th grade education, but was probably the finest pastoral care minister I have ever known. She was the heart of St. Hubert. She and Ivo were married many years. I often remember them on a hot summer night, sitting in the screened in front porch of their simple home across the drive from the old church listening to the Minnesota Twins game on the radio and drinking a couple bottles of beer.

Today is Beth’s birthday. As I recall, we were expecting her on Christmas Day and I was ready to drop all the music at all the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day Masses I was directing at St Hubert at a phone call from Ruth. As it turned out Beth decided to wait a little longer before she entered into our world. Always a singer, I believe she emerged from Ruth’s womb singing a song. I was just to preoccupied at that moment to notice. Because Ruthie was experiencing gestational diabetes, Beth was our fourth and last child. As with all our children, she has and continues to be a great blessing to us and to those she serves at Hennepin County Medical Center.

What follows is a set of three poems I have written for Beth and a song I composed for her in 2016. The poems are from a second collection of poems I have written for my wife Ruth, entitled, “The Book of Ruth: Courting In The Minnesota River Valley Of Tears.” Happy birthday, my love!!!

THREE POEMS ON THE BIRTH OF BETH

1. NOT QUITE AN AFTERTHOUGHT

Not quite an afterthought,
but like all her other siblings,
a surprise. Is it any wonder,
my beautiful Ruth, you
are pregnant again? So
wonderfully beguiling,
our fertility such that
undressing at the same time
in the same room, your chances
of pregnancy increase tenfold.

Together, a fourth time, we
make this familiar journey,
praying for an easy pregnancy,
a safe birth, and a healthy baby.
Expecting a Christmas Day birth,
some trepidation accompanies
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day
liturgies, the birth of Jesus taking
on a new level of anxiety.
The Christmas Holidays come
and go, till the eleventh of
January arrives, and with it
our lovely daughter.

The moment arrives, and
we take our familiar positions.
I watch our child be born,
the doctor exclaiming,
“Nurse, weigh this kid.
I almost dropped it!” Your
eyes silently command,
“Follow her.” In silence,
I follow the green gowned
nurse holding our child.
As the doctor is applying
sutures to you,
your eyes engage mine.
“What is it?” “A girl.”
“How much did she weigh?”
“Eleven pounds.” A pause,
comprehension settles in,
followed by, “That’s it!”

1. TWO MOTHERS

Four children, a family of six,
our finances strained,
I swap a job two blocks away
for one twenty-five miles away,
a compensation paid for
increase of salary. Survival,
our constant companion,
compels you to don your
nurse’s uniform and work
night shifts to keep food
on our table, a roof over
our heads, and doctor bills paid.

You sleep, when you can,
Between children’s naps
And school day schedules.
Our three year old, Meg,
wearing the mantle of surrogacy,
mothers our new born, Beth,
when your eyelids feel heavy,
teaching her the needed
child skills, potty training,
kitchen utensils, walking.
Under Meg’s tutelage, Beth
thrives and excels,
a sisterly bond still in
place today, though, not
often publicly acknowledged.

1. SUMMERTIME

The auditorium lights
dim, the hall encased
in shadow. A spotlight
draws our eyes to an
elegantly dressed girl,
standing in a long,
flowing, black gown.
The opening strains
of Gershwin’s “Summertime”
play and she begins to sing.
Her beautiful tones soar
drawing our souls
to the height of the auditorium
to gently float, descending
in graceful arcs, an aural
caress of our senses.

Darling daughter,
born with a song
in your heart.
Strains of “Mommy
Good Girl,” rendering
“Somewhere Out There”
in keys normally out
of vocal reach
for mere humans.
Your life has been an
opera, singing what most
normally say, a recitative
of your life. Early morning
duets with sister, Meg,
chasing your older brothers
to school, your combined
voices following them to classes.
Fearlessly independent,
not afraid to defend your
family with words and fist.
Your Aunt Mary’s tenacity,
a part of your DNA, always
persevering in spite of
obstacles known and unknown.

This night your reveal your
heart to me, your poor
father, my heart moved
and melting with each
sung word, remembering
when I held your infant body
close to my heart
and pledged my life
to yours forever.
The closing strains of
Gershwin’s masterpiece sound.
A pause, the musical silence
Of a half note’s length,
then thundering applause
as I weep openly with joy.

I composed the choral motet, “Incarnation” in the year 1992. In composing the text for the motet, I used the following themes that are expressed in the Christmas narratives of Matthew and Luke. The first theme is that of messenger, as represented by the angels. The second theme is peace, as felt by the shepherds as they received the angel’s message. The third theme is that of awe and wonder, as experienced by Mary, Simeon, and Anna. The fourth theme is that of light, as represented by the Star of Bethlehem, leading the Magi to the birthplace of Jesus. The fifth theme is that of Incarnation, God taking on our humanity, and we in response incarnating God’s Divinity within our own lives.

Here is the text I wrote for the motet.

Your birth, O Lord, moves the Angels to sing
and stirs the hearts of all on earth.
May we, sweet child of Beth’lem be
messengers of your wondrous birth.

Yours is the peace the shepherds know
which calms the fear within their hearts.
May we, Good Shepherd, always feel
the peace, the joy that you impart.

Your birth makes Simeon and Anna rejoice,
and makes sweet Mother Mary ponder.
May we, O Lord of the stable, be
as filled with hope, awe, and wonder.

Your Star made all darkness bright
and filled the Magis’ hearts with light.
Shine forth within our lives so we
may be your light for all to see.

How wondrous your love, O Christ Divine,
to share our human heartaches and strife.
May we, Incarnate brother, be
living signs of your love and life.
Jesus our hope, our love, our life.

© 1992, text by Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

I scored this motet originally for four part choir, handbells, clarinets in Bb, Flutes, and piano. It is in the key of F major.

In 2018, I reimagined this motet as a piano song presented here.

“Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Josepha got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.” (Matthew 2:13-15. NRSV)

This Psalm Offering is a musical representation of the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt. When the Magi returned to their homes, each going their separate ways, King Herod was greatly angered. He, very much aware of the prophecy around the Messiah, was eager to kill the newborn Jesus. He ordered his soldiers to go to Bethlehem and slaughter all male children 3 years of age and younger. Melody A is Joseph, warned of Herod’s plans by an angel in a dream, quickly roused his young family to escape. Melody B is the Holy Family journeying through strange land to Egypt. Melody A returns as the Holy Family arrives in Egypt, safe from all harm.

I composed this as a Christmas present for Sharon Olejnicak, a piano accompanist for St. Hubert. Sharon and her family were only parishioners of St. Hubert for a couple of years. By the time that Sharon was there, the number of “old St. Hubert families” began to dwindle and new families began to flood into the parish. Some put down roots and settled in the parish, others, like the Olejnicak family, would be only in the parish for a short period of time before job relocations would move them on to another place and another parish. I am very grateful for the time Sharon devoted to St. Hubert as a musician while she and her family were there.

The song I present to you today is from my collection of piano music, “Songs for the Refugee Christ at Christmas.” The song is entitled, “In the Beginning Was the Word.” This is what I wrote about the song after its completion in 2018.

The scriptural reference for this newly composed Psalm Offering is the Prologue of John’s Gospel. John’s Prologue is the Gospel for Christmas’ Mass during the Day. Of all the Christmas narratives, this Gospel has always been my favorite. However, like the Genealogy of Matthew or Luke Gospels read at the Vigil Mass, it is one of the least heard Gospels on Christmas (everyone would rather hear the Baby Jesus story from the Christmas Eve, Mass at Midnight.

In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came into being through him,
and without him not one thing came into being.
What has come into being in him was life,
and the life was the light of all people.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God,
whose name was John.
He came as a witness to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He himself was not the light,
but he came to testify to the light.
The true light, which enlightens everyone,
was coming into the world.
He was in the world,
and the world came into being through him;
yet the world did not know him.
He came to what was his own,
and his own people did not accept him.
But to all who received him,
who believed in his name,
he gave power to become children of God,
who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh
or of the will of man, but of God.
And the Word became flesh and lived among us,
and we have seen his glory,
the glory as of a father’s only son,
full of grace and truth. (John 1:1-14, NRSV)

Resting in John’s Prologue is an experience of being completely enveloped by Mystery. To be able to rest in the Mystery of the Incarnation of Christ, the starting place is not the Presentation of Matthew’s Gospel, nor the Visitation of Luke’s Gospel. The starting place is John’s Prologue. It is the Christian Testament’s Genesis. Much like the first sentence in Genesis, “In the beginning was Creation,” John’s Gospel starts with the phrase, “In the beginning was the Word,” the moment in which God entered into relationship with Creation. 

John reveals that the baby who rests in the arms of Mary is the Logos, the Word of God, through whom all life was created. The baby that Mary cradles is the very light of God which will pierce the darkness that began at the fall of humanity and covers human life as a shroud. John admits that there will remain a part of humanity that will always seek darkness and will flee from the light of God. For those who are bathed in the light of God, they will find themselves transformed into becoming Children of God.

In John’s Prologue, we encounter what God intended as human nature at Creation with what human nature became at the fall of humankind. The Child in Mary’s arms asks us to answer the question of whether we are to be people who seek Light or darkness, God’s life or eternal death. The Child tells us that in the Reign of God there is no place for human complacency.  We are confronted with our own humanity and must either choose to be human or subhuman. It is far more pleasant to be dazzled and distracted by Christmas lights and music than to confront our humanity.

The music is really rather simple, in spite of all the music decoration in the higher register. The melody is simply what is called an ostinato pattern, a musical pattern repeated over and over (e.g. a boogie woogie pattern is an example of an ostinato pattern), beginning with it doubled in both hands, and then sustained in the left hand while the right hand provides a musical decoration on top of the ostinato. A second ostinato is created in the middle section of the song, and then to complete the song, the first ostinato pattern returns with a coda. What is different about the song is its meter. It is in 7/4 meter (7 beats to a measure), a meter that is rarely heard in music. Why 7/4? The number 7 has been considered the perfect number in ancient thought and has been used to described perfection e.g. “7th heaven” or Jesus whose name in numerology is “777” the perfect number.

The song is meant to be a peaceful meditation on the mystery of the Incarnation described in the Prologue of John’s Gospel. As with all the songs from this collection, they are dedicated prayer songs for all refugees fleeing political and economic violence throughout the world.