As part of my theological analysis of the themes of St. Valentines Day, I share this song somewhat hesitantly. The hesitancy has to do with the fact that I wrote the words as a much younger man, and the sentiment seems a bit naive to me today; but it's also because I recognize that the themes of sexuality that the song deals with are far more complex than a 5:10 ditty could handle well, and I don't want to appear flippant or trite when it comes to these matters. I will refer you to this insightful discussion of the "psychology of sexual purity" over at Experimental Theology, if you'd like to do some "deep-sea" fishing with the can of worms I've opened here (so to speak).
In the meantime, I'm still posting "New Song of Solomon" today, the above disclaimers notwithstanding, because like I say: we're theologically analysing the themes of St. Valentine's Day this February at terra incognita, and whatever else it is, this song is about the Bible's vision for sexual wholeness, and how we humans have so often distorted that vision (verse 3 quotes Ophelia from Hamlet, as if to say: this problem is no modern one). Confession songs are rare in the praise-and-worship ethos of modern evangelicalism, but "New Song of Solomon" is actually meant as a prayer of confession, acknowledging the many ways North American Evangelicalism has simply acquiesced to the sexual ethic of the modern world.
Click here to download the song.
A Song for Valentine's Day
Revisiting A Lesson from St. Valentine
In keeping with the Theological Analysis of Valentine's Day I introduced yesterday, I thought I'd re-post this Valentine's Day reflection I posted back in 2009.
I'm saying this because today is the Feast of St. Valentine; or, as we would say in our iconoclastic tradition of Hallmarkangelicalism: Valentine's Day.
There are actually a few saints by the name of Valentinus, but there's general agreement that the Valentinus of Valentine's Day fame was martyred under Emperor Claudius II. A number of stories surrounding Valentine might explain how his name became synonymous with waxy chocolate hearts and timid 3rd Grade card-exchanges. While in prison he sent notes of encouragement and love to his parishioners. He also restored sight to the blind daughter of his jailer, who would later fall in love with him. As legend has it, his last note to her before his execution was signed: "From your Valentine."
But there's one story in this strange mix of legend and history that has always stuck with me. They say that Valentine was martyred because Emperor Claudius had made it illegal for soldiers in his Imperial army to marry. Apparently Claudius was having a tough time recruiting males. Believing it was because married men were reluctant to leave their wives and families, he annulled all marriages and engagements in Rome. Valentine continued to perform Christian marriages in secret, convinced that there was a Lord of marriage whose authority transcended the Emperor's. He was caught, and brought before the Emperor. When he refused to renounce his Faith in the true Lord of marriage, Valentine was condemned to be executed by clubbing, stoning and beheading.
Now here's a little Valentine's Day chocolate food for thought: Valentine died convinced that marriage is not just an end in itself. He was not martyred for marriage, he was martyred for Christ. He stood before Claudius convinced that Christian marriage served a living Lord whose redemptive reign could not be renounced. Marriage is but one of the many human goods that God has given us to bear witness to His loving lordship in Christ.
I'm not big-C Catholic. But in the Evangelical tradition I call home, I think we might learn a small lesson from St. Valentine. Because here the family is an institution of special focus; and I sometimes wonder if, in all our focus on marriage, we inadvertently make it an end in itself. Do we stand convinced that our marriages have meaning-- not because they satisfy our romantic desires-- not because they fulfill our domestic needs-- not because they make us happy-- but because they bear witness to the loving lordship of Christ? Some of the stronger Evangelical rhetoric I've heard defending marriage has seemed more about what's politically or socially expedient than about the good news of Jesus.
The word martyr itself means "a witness." As I reflect on the martyrdom Valentine, I wonder: what would my marriage look like if it were transformed by a spirit of martyrdom-- if I could see my life together with my wife as bearing loving witness to the redemptive reign of Jesus?
On St. Valentine's Day and Ash Wednesday
In case you've yet to purchase a bouquet of roses or some such similar gesture of appreciation for the object of your affection, let me remind you that today is St. Valentine's Day Eve. It's also, incidentally, Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent, but I try as I might, I couldn't find any "Happy Ash Wednesday" cards at the local Walmart. Another case of Hallmark commercialism trumping the sacred calendar in our collective reckoning of the year.
In different post, I'd maybe tackle the themes of Lent, and lament, perhaps, how little air-time they get in the modern evangelical church; but then, my favorite blogger over at Experimental Theology beat me to it, and with much more ease than I could have done, so I will simply refer you to his "Ash Wednesday" reflection here and turn my attention to our forthcoming celebration of love, passion, affection and eros happening tomorrow. Owing to the unexpected popularity of my theological analysis of Halloween last October, I am planning to do a similar treatment of the themes St. Valentine's Day over the next few days, exploring the theological significance of this red-letter day and especially that most potent of human bonds it celebrates.
To start things off, let me share a sermon on modern love that I preached at the FreeWay a few months ago. Happy listening, and Happy St. Valentine's Day Eve everybody.
Song of Solomon 4:15-5:1 "A Love Song of Love Songs"
Click here to download the sermon.
Musical Mondays (XIV)
Here's another song from "echoes" to start your week off. By way of explanation, let me say that Zoe is the Greek word for "life" and the lyrics are meant as an ode to life in Christ. By way of credit-where-credit's due, let me say that the mandolin solo towards the end is a medley of two traditional Irish jigs (St. Patrick's Day, and The Priest's Leap). And in the spirit of Ephesian 5:18, let me say that the song (and my performance thereof) is my best effort at writing a worship song that sounds for all the word like an Irish drinking song. Cheers.
Download the song here.
Zoe
Zoe is dancing again in the daylight
She comes to me lovely and full of delight
Skipping and spinning with all of her might
She sets my heart free
Richer than milk and sweeter than honey
Stronger than wine, more precious than money
A blue sky divine, all brilliant and sunny
She dances lovely
Life! Springing up from the
Ground, like nothing that I've ever
Found, on this sweet earth
Joy! Filling my heart like
Wine! Now that I know that you're
Mine, I'm filled with mirth
Zoe is shining again in the twilight
She's burning like stars in the darkness of night
She's casting off blindness and putting on new sight
To make my heart see
Flowing like water, burning like fire
Sent from the father to like me higher
Anointed with laughter, delight and desire
By Christ my master
Love! Bubbling up in my
Soul! Your mercy has made me
Whole, and gave me new birth
Zoe! Foaming out like a spring
You teach my spirit to sing
To sing your worth
Zoe is running again in the rain
She is leaping and falling and rising again
She's there in the joy and there in the pain
The life Christ gave me
Richer than milk and sweeter than honey
Stronger than wine, more precious than money
A blue sky divine all brilliant and sunny
She dances, lovely
Life! Springing up from the
Ground, like nothing that I've ever
Found, on this sweet earth
Joy! Filling my heart like
Wine! Now that I know that you're
Mine, I'm filled with mirth
Love! Bubbling up in my
Soul! Your mercy has made me
Whole, and gave me new birth
Zoe! Foaming out like a spring
You teach my spirit to sing
To sing your worth