PEACE AT THE LAST
O LORD, support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in thy mercy grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last. Amen.
When I write, there is always music playing. Sometimes actual music is playing through the speakers of my computer, and sometimes I simply hear the songs in my mind. I’ve rocked out with AC/DC, replayed the Fast and Furious movies with the help of the soundtrack, chanted with the Gregorian monks in a cathedral, and played Claire de Lune perfectly on the piano. Music, another means by which we worship, is all at once of the world and yet deeply points to the highest heights of heaven. The instruments are created from earthly materials by human hands, all of which are elements of God’s creation. Yet, the product of such earthly means can draw the hearer ever closer to God. This is not to say that music should find precedence over the act of contemplation and silence, but rather can deeply enhance the spiritual life of the believer when properly ordered. For me, there’s a stark contrast between the contemporary evangelical worship music I was raised in, and the traditional music we hear in the liturgy. This over the years has led me to a question that seems to often find itself at the center of much of the spiritual life: how do I reconcile two things that seem to stand in opposition to one another? Such a question provides food for thought on many topics, including an apparent contrast in a deep longing for the life of the world to come and the fulfillment of one’s vocation here on earth.
One of the best examples I’ve discovered of this dichotomy is the text of “A Prayer for At Night”, which can be found in the Book of Common Prayer. While beautiful on its own, the message finds its transcendence when it's been set to music. I’ve always found this piece to be one of the key instances of the best music’s ability to point us towards the things of heaven. The prayer itself acknowledges the very real sufferings of the human spirit, praying that God would support his children “all the day long” in the midst of a “busy world” and the “fever of [a] life” that sees no cessation of “our work”. It is hard for me to hear these particular words of this prayer sung without crying. The prayer acknowledges the weight of the human condition and has at its core the common thread we see in many hymns, such as “Jerusalem, My Happy Home” or “Here O My Lord, I see the face to face”--a longing for the life of the world to come and for peace at the last.
Like many, I’ve always been deeply struck by Frodo’s words towards the end of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. As he departs for the Grey Havens, Frodo tells Sam, “Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.” As Sam is left behind to continue his vocation to family life and roles of leadership in the Shire, he is left to reconcile his longing for this other world while still remaining faithfully present in the life to which he is still called. This is our work to be done, as our prayer reminds us: faithful perseverance to our life of prayer and vocations, while still looking forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Such a mindset does not negate the very real joys of this life but rather in fact magnifies the intensity and experience of the joy. We joyfully celebrate the glory of Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday only because we first entered with him into the agony of his betrayal on Maundy Thursday and his brutal death on Good Friday. Our souls can and should have a longing for the life of the world to come--this comes with an understanding of our fallen nature and the brokenness that has come from our first parents’ disobedience to say “No” to God. Yet in the midst of this longing, we are called rather to emulate the New Adam in Christ, and the New Eve in Mary, who each teach us to say “Yes” to God, thus poetically upending the consequences of Adam and Eve’s sin. We are called to say, “Behold, the handmaiden of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word.”
Our work is not done, dear friends. Each year at Pentecost we pray for the fruits of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and each year, the Lord is faithful to answer that prayer. We are called to be living witnesses and a chosen people to a suffering world still living in the confines of Eve’s “No” rather than a faithful “Yes”. We must be faithful in our threefold lives of the Daily Offices, Mass, and private prayer amidst the clamor and fever of the busy world who would seek to have us direct our attention elsewhere. We must and ever remain oriented towards heaven, while not abandoning that which God requires of us here on the earth. It is in this manner that we can look up as our redemption draws near, while still seeking the work of the good and faithful servant. Like Sam, we are called to be one and whole for many years, and this is accomplished through our small acts of daily faithfulness as we await the fulfillment of our Lord’s promise for a holy rest and for peace at the last. O Lord, haste the day.