Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing, and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. Amen. (Revelation 5:12-14)

In the apocalypse of John this is a song that thousands and thousands of angels begin to sing until it is joined by every living creature.

The lamb opens the Book of Seven Seals from which the wrath of God is unleashed.

The Greek translated as wrath is orge. Depending on context it can mean anger, indignation, or any violent emotion. It is commonly associated with judicial punishment.

But rather than punishment we are assured of redemption.

Orge can also mean a great stretching. Through Jesus God has stretched out to save us and even to offer us power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.

You may listen to Worthy is the Lamb from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

Above is Adoration of the Lamb by Beringarius (circa 870)

If God is for us, who can be against us? Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is at the right hand of God, who maketh intercession for us. (Romans 8:31 and 33-34)

The process of justification has been a matter of considerable disagreement among Christians. That Christ came to justify is widely accepted.

The Greek word translated above as justifieth is dikaioo. It is a verb that can be either a judicial finding or an example of righteous behavior.

Did Christ declare us justified or does Jesus provide an example of how to become justified? Was the self-sacrifice of Jesus the final action or the pattern for ongoing action?

In either case it seems to me that those accused must accept the possibility of justification. Paul ends the eighth chapter with: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

But scripture and personal experience demonstrates that we can separate ourselves from the love of God. However it is achieved, the individual must be open to and allow the process of justification.

You may listen to If God is with Us performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1Corinthians 15:55-57)

Paul is thought to be - rather roughly - quoting Hosea 13:14. The Greek scripture of Paul's day, used by most Jews of the Diaspora, does not accurately reflect the Hebrew. But in this case the errors do not detract from Paul's meaning.

I have failed in God's purposes. I have wandered from the way that God intended. I have not kept faith with others or even with my own integrity. I have sinned. I deserve to be shamed and punished.

But instead I have been given victory - nike is the Greek - through the reign of Jesus the anointed. Despite my sin if I acknowledge that I belong to Jesus and submit to Jesus I can be victorious.

The error of translating the Hebrew to Greek is real. It complicates our understanding. But it does not remove the essential truth. The truth of both Hosea and Corinthians persist and is accessible to us.

In a similar fashion sin complicates our lives. Through grave errors we experience great pain. But this does not undo the truth of God's greater love and profound grace. The truth overcomes the error.

You may listen to O Death where is thy Victory performed by the Bach Collegium of Japan.

Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. (1Corinthians 15:54)

Paul is quoting from Isaiah 25:8: "He will swallow up death for all time, And the Lord God will wipe tears away from all faces, And He will remove the reproach of His people from all the earth."

The prophecy of Isaiah culminates an extended time of trouble, destruction, pain and death. In Isaiah 24 we find, "The earth will be completely laid waste and completely despoiled... The earth is polluted by its inhabitants... Therefore a curse devours the earth, and those who live in it are held guilty. Therefore, the inhabitants of the earth are burned, and few men are left."

Yet from the midst of the destruction God brings restoration and more: "The Lord of hosts will prepare a lavish banquet for all peoples on this mountain; A banquet of aged wine, choice pieces with marrow, And refined aged wine." (Isaiah 25:6)

You may listen to Then shall be brought to pass from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Field.

Above is the New Jerusalem from a 14th Century tapestry.

The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)

Paul is insistent that the dead will be raised. He insists it will be a physical raising.

But we will be changed from earthly to heavenly, perishable to imperishable, from weak to powerful, dishonorable to glorious, from natural to spiritual.

Death becomes -rather than an ending - a new beginning. Death is a way of healing.

In Paul death can be understood as a birthing, our earthly lives being a comparatively short period of preparation for a fulfilled life beyond death.

With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord. (Psalm 98: 6)

You may listen to Alastair Miles sing The Trumpet Shall Sound from the Messiah.

Behold, I tell you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. (1 Corinthians 15:51-52)

Most of the third act of the Messiah is drawn from the fifteenth chapter of First Corinthians where Paul outlines his case for the resurrection of the dead.

The human brain is a great defense mechanism. It seems to me our cognitive abilities evolved to enable our rather frail species to avoid death. Yet we each die.

In confronting the inevitability of death our individual and collective brains have crafted rituals and explanations that presume to overcome even this finality.

I am personally uncertain if we have evolved a profound insight or a comforting illusion. Paul offers a mystery - musterion is the Greek - a hidden purpose, a secret, a mystic vision.

We shall be changed. We will exchange one reality for another. We shall be transformed. We will become as another.

You may listen to Behold I Tell you a Mystery from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep. Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15:21-22)

Death came about through the rebellion of Adam and our resulting separation from God. Death is conquered by the obedience of Christ. Our separation from God is ended in reconciliation through Christ.

Jesus was born to be a bridge from hopelessness to hope, from being alone to being loved, from death to eternal life. He was born and did not die so that we might better understand our true vocation.

We are called to wholeness with God. In shared purpose and practice we may be fulfilled and become sources of fulfillment. There is no need to fear, no cause to hesitate. In relationship with God all that is broken will be healed.

The Greek used above for dead can also mean to dry up, rot, or lose fertility. Too often we feel trapped in a kind of dry darkness that is neither fully alive nor quite dead; like a seed in the cold, hard ground of winter.

In relationship with Christ we are made alive - the Greek is zoopoieo - we are restored, aroused, invigorated; we are endued with new and greater powers. We become as a seed in soil warmed and moistened by spring.

You may listen to Elizabeth Parcells sing For Now is Christ Risen from the Messiah. (Following I Know that my Redeemer liveth.)

Above is the Last Judgment by Michelangelo (Sistine Chapel).

I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. (Job 19:25-26)

The Gospel of John assures us that with the birth of Jesus the word is made flesh, the order of the universe is revealed in human form.

Job is confident that after death he shall stand before God in a physical form specifically his own.

Paul preaches that we shall each be raised in an imperishable and spiritually transformed physical form; as a seed dies and is reborn more glorious.

Our physical nature can often be a source of pain or shame. It is, still, a gift of God.

The Hebrew translated as flesh in Job is בְּשָׂ (basar). As a noun it means body, phallus, or living thing. The very same word, used as a verb, means to bring glad tidings, announce, or receive good news.

Is my flesh noun or verb? Does it act or is it acted upon?

In the death and resurrection of Jesus we are shown the full potential of our physical form. In giving and sacrifice our frailty is transformed into strength.

You may listen to I Know that My Redeemer Liveth from the Messiah performed by Lynne Dawson and the Brandenburg Consort.

King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, and He shall reign for ever and ever, Hallelujah! (Revelation 19:16)

For this phrase Jennens has woven together two widely separated lines from Revelation: "King of Kings and Lord of Lords" from chapter 19 and "He shall reign for ever and ever" from chapter 11.

The titles were commonly associated with Babylonian and other Eastern emperors. More recently they had been adopted by Roman rulers.

Revelation was probably written during the reign of Domitian (AD 81-96), son of Vespasian and brother of Titus. Among other titles, Domitian was referred to as dominus et deus - lord and god - as well as son of god. Vespasian's genius had been deified by the Senate.

The desire for divine reform of political institutions is perpetual. The expectation that God will intervene as king or general is common. We crave clarity.

To me, however, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus seems to suggest other options. His own teaching that the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night (Luke 12:39) points toward something less obvious than we might want and think we need.

You may listen to the Hallelujah Chorus performed by the City Chamber Orchestra and Opera Society of Hong Kong.

The Kingdom of this world is become the Kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever, Hallelujah! (Revelation 11:15)

The last book of Christian scripture is understood to be the vision of John of Patmos regarding the last days. What is to come is unveiled through the words of an angel who warns John not to edit even a word.

An angel dictates the unveiling as if it is taking place now. As a result, while presumably the narrative relates events in some indeterminate future, it has a tone of immediate urgency. The Kingdom of this world is become the Kingdom of our Lord.

The language of Revelation has a feeling of being outside time. This is reinforced in the original Greek. Unlike English, Greek tenses are much more focused on action than time. The tense has more to do with whether the verb is ongoing or completed.

In this verse the tense is aorist. I have some difficultly getting my time-oriented grammar around this tense. But it might be understood as a very specific action that takes place over an indeterminate period.

Envision, perhaps, a slow motion fight scene in some Hollywood movie. How much time expires is not the point. We are focused on the action that is unfolding. Depending on the observors' angles it may seem to take forever or be over in a moment.

To the participants the action is outside time. Action happens. The passage of time is secondary, barely perceived. Until the action is finished there is only a persistent present. While we are engaged in action we exist only in the now.

This is my experience of the Kingdom of our Lord: it is happening now, it is unfolding now, it can be experienced now, the reign of God is arriving in the very present. I suppose it has been unfolding for a very long while. I have no idea how long the unfolding may continue. But it is well underway.

You may listen to the Hallelujah Chorus performed by the Poznan Boys Choir (Poland).

Above is St. John on Patmos from the Very Rich Hours of the Duc de Berry.

Hallelujah, for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, Hallelujah! (Revelation 19:6)

The best known element in the Messiah consists of three non-sequential verses from the Book of Revelation.

In chapter 18 the whore of Babylon has fallen in flames and plague. Many mourn. But the faithful of God give thanks.

The entire Messiah - nearly three hours - is seldom performed. The First Act is most often featured at Christmas; the Second and Third Acts at Easter. But whatever is sung, for whatever season, the Hallelujah Chorus is usually inserted.

For most the Hallelujah Chorus is probably thought to respond to the birth of Jesus. Instead, Handel and Jennens place it to proclaim his second coming.

We surely feel more secure celebrating the arrival the baby at Bethlehem than the judge and redeemer at Babylon.

You may listen to the Hallelujah Chorus sung by the Ambrosian Singers.

Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; Thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel. (Psalms 2:9)

Christ is, perhaps, less in Christmas because Advent has been left behind. A penitential season has been replaced with preparations for an orgy of consumption.

Christmas is full of regrets.

It is a time when very few receive the gift most desired... which even for the most secular is often a spiritual gift. Nostalgia, expectations, and noise crowd out spiritual possibilities.

In Latin paenitere means "almost, but not quite."

The penitent person regrets being so close, but failing to achieve the goal. It is a sense of what Christmas is meant to be, and could be, but so seldom is that fuels our regret.

Too often we simply hold onto regret.

There is sacramental potential in our regrets. But to fulfill this potential the regret must prompt contrition and contrition must lead to a change of attitude and behavior.

God I offer to you all my regrets.

Break them, dash them to pieces, and replace my regrets with an attitude of thanksgiving and praise for all the great gifts you have so lavishly provided.

You may listen to Thou shalt break Them from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh them to scorn: the Lord shall have them in derision. (Psalms 2:4)

Who shall God deride? Those who set themselves against God, those who conspire and plot.

A mocking God does not fit easily with my image of the divine.

Jupiter or Zeus, Thor or Odin I can envision laughing in derision. It fits my image of Satan.

But this suggests a tendency to fit God to my preferences.

How else should the Creator of the universe react when we seek to command what we cannot even understand?

A benignly detached grandfather might smile indulgently.

A strong, creative and fully engaged God will respond with a lusty laugh.

You can listen to He that Dwelleth in Heaven from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

Above is Laughing Buddha a photograph by Serena Bowles.

Let us break their bonds asunder, and cast away their yokes from us. (Psalms 2:3)

This is a curious verse to highlight in an oratorio composed in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and first performed in 1742.

The "Glorious Revolution" that had overthrown the Catholic King James II was not yet fully confirmed. Not until the 1745 failure of the Second Jacobite Rebellion was the succession of William and Mary and Mary's German cousins largely secure.

Charles Jennens was a "non-juror." These were Anglicans who did not accept the succession to William and Mary, nor - by implication - to the contemporary German-born King George II.

Is including this verse a bit of pious subversion? Would Handel have noticed? Did the King when he attended the London performance?

Christianity is, in any case, profoundly subversive. Religious leaders sometimes reach an accommodation with political power. But Jesus and scripture are not so easy to tame. Here we find constant encouragement to break asunder the bonds of earthly pretence to power.

Learn more about the non-jurors courtesy of the Internet Archive. You may listen to Let us Break the Bonds Asunder from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields (following Why do the Nation's so Furiously Rage).

Why do the nations so furiously rage together, why do the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth rise up, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and against His anointed. (Psalms 2:1-2)

We furiously rage together - rulers or not - because of greed, fear, hatred, and self-righteousness. I cannot find another reason.

Of these motivations a mix of fear and self-righteousness is especially dangerous.

When we are convinced of our own good it is too easy to perceive another's difference as the opposite of good. What is the opposite of good?

There is evil. When we encounter evil it should be resisted.

But what is new, different, and unexpected is not always evil. Jesus was all of these. The self-righteous perceived ultimate good as evil, feared it, and set themselves against it.

You may listen to Why do the nations so furiously rage from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things! ...Their sound is gone out into all lands, and their words unto the ends of the world. (Romans 10:15 and 18)

In his Letter to the Romans Paul is quoting Isaiah 52:7:

How lovely on the mountains Are the feet of him who brings good news, Who announces peace, And brings good news of happiness, Who announces salvation, And says to Zion, "Your God reigns!"

I expect both Paul and Isaiah are making ironic reference to the actual feet of itinerant preachers and prophets. The feet of those who had traveled far would be dirty, scarred, and sore. But their purpose made beautiful that which had brought them.

The Hebrew, however, has the slightest suggestion of another meaning. This particular word for feet, regel, is derived from the Hebrew meaning to explore or, especially, to spy. The best preacher is as a spy telling us the secrets of happiness and salvation.

You may listen to How Beautiful are the Feet from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields. Please wait for the second piece in the video.

Above is Jesus washing the feet of Peter by Ford Madox Brown.

The Lord gave the word: great was the company of the preachers. (Psalm 68:11)

The New Revised Standard Version offers: The Lord gave the command; great was the company of women who bore the tidings.

The King James Version, completed in 1611, reads: The Lord gave the word: great was the company of those that published it.

The 1917 Jewish Publication Society translation is "The Lord giveth the word; the women that proclaim the tidings are a great host."

The New American Standard is very close to the JPS translation, but adds "good" tidings.

I expect Jennens was adapting the King James version. Preachers is easer to score than "the company of those that published it."

Jennens may not have considered the original Hebrew. I wonder what he and Handel might have done with a great host of women proclaiming good tidings.

You can listen to - the rather obscure - chorus of The Lord Gave the Word performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields

Thou art gone up on high, Thou hast led captivity captive and received gifts for men; yea, even for Thine enemies rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them. (Psalm 68:18)

The Sixty-eighth Psalm is written to suggest God coming in triumph, as a king or general might come in victorious procession through his capital. Jennens portrays Christ returning in triumph to heaven.

To further emphasize the paradox of the Prince of Peace coming in triumph, the solo is sung by a countertenor. In Handel's and Jennens' time it was often sung by castrati. We know that in 1750 Handel specifically adapted the Messiah for a star castrato.

It may have simply been a commercial or artistic choice. These alto and soprano males were big draws. The divas of their day. But to Jennens, at least, it might also have symbolized Christ gathering up all those otherwise excluded, eccentric, despised, and abused.

You may hear Thou art Gone Up on High performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Field.

Unto which of the angels said He at any time, Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee? Let all the angels of God worship Him. (Hebrews 1:5-6)

Jennens draws on the Letter to the Hebrews for his libretto. The same words are found in the second Psalm which the Book of Acts reports Paul used as the centerpiece of his sermon in Antioch to explain the nature of Christ.

The New Testament Greek pretty well agrees with the Hebrew of the Psalms (and the English translation). But there is an interesting difference in the temporal context.

In Hebrew "this day" is yowm, the precise meaning of which depends on context, but refers to a passage of time that begins and ends. It is derived from an ancient root meaning hot. It is a noun.

The Greek is an adverb modifying the verb, in this case begotten. Semeron, the Greek word, seems to suggests the suddenness of the verb. The construction does not imply a beginning or ending. It is happening.

The Hebrew tells us when the action happened (and ended), the Greek tells us more about the character of the action. The Hebrew is historical in its implication. The Greek is more suggestive of physics.

Do we experience the action of Christ as a noun that is in the past or as a still unfolding verb?

You may listen to this recitative and chorus from the Messiah, following Lift up your Heads, performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

Above is Dead Christ supported by Angels by Giovanni Bellini.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in! Who is this King of Glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in! Who is this King of Glory? The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory. (Psalms 24:7-10)

Through what gates is the King of Glory proceeding? In the original psalm it was probably Jerusalem and the temple precinct. Given the oratorio's narrative, Handel and Jennens might have been thinking of the gates of heaven.

It could also be the gates to my mind and heart. I erect walls, redoubts, gates, and towers to protect and separate. The defences were originally constructed to exclude threat and hurt. But without care they will equally separate me from what is good.

A great and glorious host is gathered outside my walls. Bright banners stream in the wind, loud trumpets sound, and drumming rhythm vibrates through me. The King of Glory has arrived. Will I choose to open my gates?

You can listen to Lift up your Heads from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

But Thou didst not leave His soul in hell; nor didst Thou suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption. (Psalms 16:10)

At the core of Christian orthodoxy is an understanding that Jesus "was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell. On the third day he rose again from the dead." (The Apostles Creed)

In the scriptures and teachings we are assured that pain is real, death is real, and an existence beyond pain and death is real. What is beyond is a mystery to me. The specific nature of heaven or hell seems to me obscure. And - at least so far - I am not compelled to speculate on such specifics.

I am no longer young and not yet old. But there are brief glimpses of a life beyond this life that encourage me. I assiduously avoid pain. But I am not inclined to fear or postpone death. With Jesus as my guide, I hope to explore that far country.

This solo aria is performed at the close of a five minute clip performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

He was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgressions of Thy people was He stricken. (Isaiah 53:8)

Many people of faith have denied the death of Jesus. The notion that God, or God's son, or even God's true prophet would be allowed public humiliation, torture, and death is too repugnant to accept.

Several early Christians explained away this scandal by teaching that the physical nature of Jesus was an illusion. There were several arguments. One of the more influential was that ultimate reality is spiritual, not physical. Our sense perception is always limited to mere shadows of the ideal. The true Jesus, the Son of the God, was purely spiritual. Therefore the pain and death of the crucifixion is only a symbolic tableau that - however real it seemed - was more an instructional drama than a bloody, agonizing, and frightening death.

This is a very Greek - specifically Socratic/Platonic point-of-view - that any good Jew of the first century - including Jesus - would find troubling.

The material world and our physical condition is a gift of God, according to Jewish tradition. We share both physical and spiritual characteristics of our Creator. The material world is of God. We share the same universe as God. The Jewish tradition perceives that God is still creating, still perfecting, and that we can choose to be partners in this creation. For some there is even a sense that God is depending on us to play our role in the creating and we do so each minute of everyday in how we deal with our relationships in this material reality.

Jesus was in great pain. Pain is common to the human condition. Jesus died. We will each die. This is very real. It is not the only reality.

The Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields performs the Messiah, including this very brief soprano solo, in an excerpt that also includes Thy Rebuke, Behold and See, and Thou did not Leave his Soul in Hell. Handel and Jennes were apparently uncomfortable giving much attention to the actual death.

Above is the Crucifixion by Matthias Grunewald.

Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto His sorrow. (Lamentations 1:12)

Lamentations is a long acrostic poem written to explain the destruction of the First Temple in 586BC. It describes the desolation of Judah and its people following conquest by Nebuchadnezzar.

Lamentations is derived from the Greek title given the book. The original Hebrew is איכה (eikha) or How? or How is it Possible?

The question is common to the so-called first stage of grief. Often our initial reaction to tragedy is denial. This - whatever it might be - cannot be happening. How could it happen? Impossible!

In many churches the lessons assigned for this second Sunday in Advent are full of warnings. Paul tells the Thessalonians, "those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus... will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, separated from the presence of the Lord."

How does it happen? We choose the wrong way. We choose to separate ourselves from the presence. But the gospel also tells us we need only turn around. Jesus is waiting and already loves us.

You may hear Behold and See performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields (immediately following Thy Rebuke).

Thy rebuke hath broken His heart; He is full of heaviness: He looked for some to have pity on Him, but there was no man; neither found He any to comfort Him. (Psalm 69:20)

The Hebrew for pity is נוּד or nuwd. It can be translated as compassion, sympathy, empathy, or displaying grief.

This is an abstraction of the original verb. The same word is used for the flutter of wings, the wavering of water, the bending to and fro of branches.

In compassion and pity we reflect and respond to the other. Emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually we sway in rhythm with the other.

The origin of so many tragedies is a sense of separation. Too often we attempt to break the rhythm rather than join it. We rebuke rather than reflect.

In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is the promise of profound compassion. Through the crucifixion we share in a sacred dance of pain redeemed and purpose achieved.

You may hear the tenor solo, Thy Rebuke hath Broken his Heart, performed by the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields.

All they that see Him laugh Him to scorn: they shoot out their lips, and shake their heads, saying, He trusted in God that He would deliver Him: let Him deliver Him, if He delight in Him. (Psalm 22: 7-8)

Handel and Jennens bring us to Golgotha and the cross. Jesus is hanging, pierced and bleeding. About his feet are gathered a handful of mourners and many more scoffers.

Once again Jennens transposes the first-person original ("All that see me laugh at me") into a third-person referring to the Christ.

Has our first-person been completely transformed in the third-person of the Messiah?

The twenty-second psalm opens with the words that Matthew writes were the last words of Jesus: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me."

Forsaken by those you love, laughed at by strangers, derided by those who claimed to love you, and slowly tortured: this is the death-scene of our redeemer.

Empathy - a sense of shared experience - seems to me an essential element of love. Could I truly love one who had never known my doubts, fears, and hurts? My laughter and joy?

Love can be understood as the self fully identifying with the other. Jesus lost himself in loving you and me. His love for himself, for God, for you and for me was of one piece. What is our response?

You can listen to All they that see Him from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields.

Above is the Mocking of Christ by Matthias Grunewald.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)

Certainly I have gone astray. Clearly I have sought my own way. But I have never perceived God's absence.

Many of the greatest saints have struggled with a dark night of the soul. God has, perhaps, perceived that this is beyond my strength.

So... I have stumbled, I have marched double-time the wrong way, I have fallen face-first in the mud, I have wandered lost in brambles.

But God has - so far - always been there. I can sometimes perceive a sigh, a quiet disappointment, a restrained anger, but God abides.

Despite this life-long journey together, I have chosen a stubborn separation. It is the silly pride so well captured by Austen or Dickens.

I once had a friend who would always walk ahead, even when he did not know the way. From time to time I would call out directions from behind.

My friend's silliness was the result of impatience, quickness, curiousity, and obliviousness. I would shake my head, but loved him no less for it.

You may listen to this major choral element at the conclusion of a longer excerpt from the Messiah performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

And with His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)

This is a traditional formula for the atonement. The Christ accepts punishment and death so that we might be released from the burden of sin and enter into eternal life.

A trade is made - a deal is done - between one of the trinity and another. We are the beneficiaries, but otherwise not actively involved.

On a walk yesterday afternoon I decided my morning treatment of this verse was wrong.

The Hebrew for what Jennes and Handel use above is chubbuwrah rapha'. It is a simple noun-verb phrase: pain heals. The tense is not-finished. "Pain is healing," would also be accurate.

The entire verse is literally: Peace instructs, Pain heals. A still accurate, more provocative, reading could be "Peace chastens, Pain heals."

What peace? Whose pain? Who is healed? How is it accomplished? What is the purpose? These are wonderful questions that the Hebrew leaves tantalizingly open.

You may listen to this choral interlude, as part of a longer excerpt from the Messiah, performed by the Academy of St. Martin's in the Fields.

Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. (Isaiah 53:4-5)

Another translation completes the fifth verse as, "The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed."

A different translation offers, "Upon him was the punishment that made us whole."

The Hebrew is מוּסַר שְׁלוֹמֵנוּ עָלָיו, וּבַחֲבֻרָתוֹ נִרְפָּא-לָנוּ.: muwcar shalom chabbuwrah rapha'.

The book of Proverbs uses muwcar more than any other book of the Bible. Here it most often is translated as instruction, as in, "To know wisdom and instruction, To discern the sayings of understanding (Proverbs 1:2)

Shalom we know as peace, but more accurately it means wholeness, completion, fullness.

Scripture refers to chabbuwrah only six times. It is always a physical hurt, usually caused by another It is derived, weirdly enough, from a root that means to be united, joined, or allied. Perhaps as in, the fight is joined.

The meaning of the verb rapha' depends on its object. But it most often means to heal or to make healthful or to restore to an original condition.

A possible rendering: Instruction can bring wholeness, pain can bring restoration.

I learn the most when I have caused the most pain. But too often I am inclined to escape or deny the pain and in doing so lose the opportunity to learn from it.

You may listen to He Hath Borne Our Griefs from the Messiah.

Above is the Scourging of Christ from a 16th Century silver panel, perhaps by Galeazzo Mondella, now in the Kunsthistorisches (Vienna).

He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: He hid not His face from shame and spitting. (Isaiah 50:6)

The librettist has amended the language from first person to third person. Isaiah is almost certainly talking about himself. Jennens wants to describe the Christ.

Jennens was not alone in this understanding. Adam Clarke a near contemporary of Handel and Jennens wrote of Isaiah 50,"It certainly speaks more clearly about Jesus of Nazareth than of Isaiah, the son of Amos."

Well... no. The direct reference is to Isaiah. It is reasonable to note the similarity of Isaiah's experience with that of Jesus eight centuries later. But we should not discount the experience of Isaiah.

It is also reasonable to recall the thousands of men and women of conviction who over the centuries have voluntarily exposed themselves to criticism, abuse, torture and to death. Isaiah and Jesus are not alone in this.

The way of faith is seldom one of peaceful, respectable, prosperous contentment. Where in scripture is this the story? If this is our story it is not necessarily evidence of our faithfulness. Nor is pain and suffering evidence of the opposite.

You may listen to Alfred Deller perform this aria from the Messiah. (This is the same YouTube link as yesterday.)

He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. (Isaiah 53:3)

Many Christians understand Isaiah to be speaking of and pointing toward Jesus. The suffering servant is born to bear the sins of the world.

Many Jews understand Isaiah to be speaking metaphorically of the ideal Israel. The chosen people will be reborn to redeem the world.

In either case, Isaiah teaches that the path of healing involves the acceptance and transcendence of pain.

Freud suggested that God was little more than a manifestation of a Father-figure that will punish or reward depending on our behavior.

Freud's observation accurately describes the stance of many self-proclaimed believers. In the face of pain many believers reflexively assume they are being punished for cause.

This is not the God of Isaiah. Here the greatest suffering is experienced by the innocent: "Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him with pain." (Isaiah 53:10)

"Out of his anguish, he shall see light; he shall find fulfillment through this knowledge." (Isaiah 53:11)

You can listen to "He was Despised" from the Messiah performed by the countertenor Alfred Deller.

Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world. (John 1:29)

These are words ascribed to John the Baptist - teacher, colleague, cousin, and precursor of Jesus. Of him Jesus said, "Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist." (Matthew 11:11). Outside the Bible we know more of John than of Jesus.

Jesus as Lamb of God is a principal theme of the fourth gospel and of Christian theology. It suggests that through the sacrifice of Jesus at the crucifixion the sin of the world has been redeemed. This is often understood as trading our sins for the blood of Jesus.

I hope and trust in atonement. But I am not sure this trade-off is how it is achieved. With Pierre Abelard and others I am inclined to see the self-sacrifice of Jesus as an example that might inspire me to trust in a loving God. It is this healing reconciliation with God that I perceive to be the foundation of atonement.

This the beginning of the Second Part of the Messiah, more often associated with the Easter season. You may listen to Behold the Lamb performed by the Bethany College choir (available on YouTube).

Above is Adoration of the Lamb by Jan van Eyck