Easter Hymn – have a look

Me at the console of St. James Dundas

Last year,  I wrote this hymn for the Easter Vigil of St. James Anglican Church in Dundas.  It was also sung the next morning for the Resurrection Eucharist. 

The images from the Great Vigil of Easter, as many of you will know, involve water, darkness and light, to put it simply.  Baptisms have often been held at the Vigil, and the great reading of the Exodus of Moses is read.  For many years running, I read the story, and it was difficult not to slide into John Cleese-esque “Pharoh, and his chariots, and his chariot drivers.” You can imagine the sound.  Not giggling was a requirement, and it was hard. 

Anyway, on to the hymn.  If you’re interested in using it, please be in touch with me for permission at loonsong@cogeco.ca   Thank you so much for reading this hymn. 

      

commissioned by Eric Osborne and St. James’ Anglican Church, Dundas, 

the Venerable Jim Sandilands and the Reverend Bill Mous 

for the Great Vigil of Easter, 2009 

  

Great Cascading Alleluias     

                                                      878787 suggested tune: Westminster Abbey 

Great cascading Alleluias 

Fill our spirits, warm our hearts. 

Jesus Christ is living, Risen, 

With the joy new life imparts. 

In response we raise our voices 

Shouting, “Now our living starts!” 

  

Life, renewed, will change our beings 

If we’re open to the call. 

Hearts of stone will soften, working, 

Pumping love and life for all. 

Spirits, too, can be restored when 

Love pours like a waterfall. 

  

Resurrection flows like water 

River splashing, sweet and pure. 

We are sprinkled with the blessing 

Living water can assure, 

And refresh the trees and grasses 

Fruits that feed and leaves that cure. 

  

When we gather ‘round the table 

Celebrating love that’s shared 

There is Resurrection in the 

Words and prayers with care prepared. 

Knowing Jesus’ sacrifice, the 

Gift that cannot be compared. 

  

Trumpets, voices, organs singing, 

Lifting Alleluias high. 

First the crowds had palms to wave, and 

Then they shouted, “Crucify!” 

Now the world has changed forever, 

 “Christ is Risen” fills the sky!      

Organ console reflections

   

Marmot – “Gentleman” Jim and the ARSS

“Gentleman” Jim and the ARSS

James Edward Hardwycke Gilderslieth was born on October 5th 1953.  His mother, Fiona, was part of that great Hardwycke family whose roots ran so deep in the Marmot area.  His father’s name was lost on Fiona: alas, Jim was almost without a name.  Out of the depths of the one real conversation she’s had with this fellow who travelled around the countryside selling a diarrhoea cure-all, she remembered that his favourite radio show was The Great Gilderslieth  – and that was the only surname she could recall in reference to her tiny baby, so Gilderslieth would be his name. Young Jimmy G., as he was known as a lad was told early of his doubtful lineage, and also told that ne needn’t be ashamed at all.  He was part of the Hardwycke empire and would do great things one day.  How right his mother was. 

When he was nineteen, as a project for his grade thirteen Law, Ethics and History class, he registered as a candidate for Councillor of the Township of Marmot.  His girlfriend at the time (now his wife), the lovely Prunella Robeson, encouraged him, “What do you have to lose?” she asked.

After a hard-fought battle in which Jim ran uncontested, his elevation to the high title Councillor of the Town of Marmot took place in the Council Chambers in November 1972.  Within four years, Young Jimmy had become ‘Gentleman’ Jim, known for his exceptional manners and sense of chivalry.  Also within those four years, he was elected Mayor of Marmot.  His Worship ‘Gentleman’ Jim Gilderslieth was sworn in by Judge Horatio Hardwycke, his grandfather on December 5th 1976.  The whole family was there. His cousins and his aunts came in droves to see the ceremony that made Jim the town’s twenty eighth mayor.  More than twenty five years later, he is still the mayor.  In fact, on the occasion of the twenty fifth anniversary of his swearing in, the town gave him a large sterling silver plate to recognise his extraordinary service to Marmot and Marmot County.

In a life filled with remarkable days, May 16th  1975 stands out in Gentleman Jim’s memory.  It was on that day that he went to Toronto to meet with Premier William ‘Bill’ Davis.  The premier had asked Jim to the provincial capital to discuss the new issue of acid rain.  Hardwycke’s Lagoon in Marmot had been tested by the Ministry of Natural Resources and found a pH level that was off the chart.  Acid rain was an issue about which little had been done, and Davis wanted Ontario to be a world leader in the salvation of waterways and lakes.  Gilderslieth and Davis hit it off right away, and the premier appointed Jim to the newly formed Acid Rain Sensitivity Seminar of Ontario (A.R.S.S.), joining mayors from Sudbury, Kapuskasing and Thunder Bay with scientists from prominent universities across the province.  As Jim would tell it later, it was the bureaucrats that made the A.R.S.S. a real problem for him.  They didn’t want to commit to a policy, a thought, or even an idea.  They strove to maintain the status quo at all costs.

For the first time in Marmot’s history, a Deputy Mayor had to be appointed, as Gentleman Jim was going to be often on fact-finding missions and round table meetings in Toronto.  Hunding Schlussmayer, as retired funeral director was appointed by general acclaim as the deputy mayor by the Council, and he served well.  He would be deputy mayor to this day, except for the letter of resignation written by his wife which was accepted by the township with deepest regret.  He had been forced to resign because of his death earlier that same week. His elaborate funeral at Ein Feste Burg Lutheran Parish had been attended by all the local who’s who and even the Bishop of the Eastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Canada was there and delivered a heart-felt benediction.

For Gilderslieth’s part, by the time his deputy resigned, Jim was long off the A.R.S.S. and so he had little practical need for an aide of Hunding’s variety.  Schlussmayer’s widow, Herda, had offered to stand in for the deceased but her generous offer was rejected with gratitude for her sense of duty.  Even without Hunding, the work of the town went on.  A pet project of Jim’s was the cleaning and preservation and reclamation of Hardwycke’s Lagoon. 

Sunrise on Clear Lake

 The contacts Gentleman Jim made on the A.R.S.S. served the town well in finding environmentalists willing to work on this relatively small undertaking.  The Marmot Shopper-Express had a banner headline “Gilderslieth’s ARSS Connections Useful to Town”.  Naturally, it was taken the wrong way.

More Marmot Information

Well, folks in this area will be able to hear me reading from the Marmot stories at an event called Vinyl Church at St. James in Dundas. We’ll have a hip jazz combo with a sultry singer (Sara. my wife) and I’ll do some readings from the Marmot canon.

Now, I know you’re thinking that it sounds like a rather popular CBC radio show, nothing could be further from the truth, in fact, I’ve never heard of Vinyl Cafe – oops – what I meant to say was, “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”  Yes, that’s it! 

The date in late February will be announced here on the blog shortly.

How some hymns are written

Orgelbuchlein concert I
Orgelbuchlein concert II

Now, I take my handy-dandy Moleskine journal with me on my journeys, but in days gone by I often had to write on whatever came to hand.

 
I was at a recital of Bach’s entire Little Organ Book, put on by the local centre of the Royal Canadian College of Organists, and the idea for a new hymn celebrating organs and their use in worship came to mind.  I thought I’d only sketch out the ideas in rough, but the poetry came quite easily that afternoon in Port Nelson United Church, Burlington, where a good friend, Rev. Michael Brooks, is now the senior minister.
 
This hymn has been used at many organ dedications and celebrations, but to me it always brings to mind this purple concert programme and that afternoon when I just kept writing.  If you look closely on the scans, you might even decipher the words:
 
 

Organ Pipes Sing Holy Praises

1. Organ pipes sing holy praises;

Wood and metal songs abound.

Skills of players, tuners, builders

Join to make the joyful sound.

Flutes and strings and booming trumpets

Lift us up to holy ground.

2. Singing blessed by prayerful organ

Brings the soul a new reward;

Lifting people’s worship gently

To a place where God’s adored:

Beautiful emotions raising

Now with every flowing chord.

3. Gifted writers of the music

That makes worship rise and sing

Have throughout the ages brought their

New creations echoing,

Giving sound to Alleluia

With a new, inspired ring.

4. People’s senses are embraced by

Every organ’s mighty roar.

People of all ages join the

Organ praising evermore.

Voices mingled with the organ

Laud and worship, sing, adore.

5.God inspires the organ’s singing:

Praise to the Creator’s might!

Jesus gives our souls redeeming:

Praise the saving, holy light!

God the Spirit fills our breath and

Gives our praising voices flight!

878787 – could use Westminster Abbey, or Neander

written Sunday, 16 November 2003

Anne Stuttaford

Granny I

Granny, as I call her, is of course Sara’s Granny, but I love her as if she were my own grandmother.  Here are two pictures of her that I love.  One was taken two years ago and one about two weeks ago in the last days of December 2009.  The older photo won a ribbon at Rockton Fair Photography Competition in the portraits department.

Granny II

 

I’m planning to share some of Granny’s stories here in the blog, too.  She grew up in Kirkcaldy on the Firth of Forth in the Kingdom of Fife, then after her marriage moved to Rhodesia, where my Mum-in-law and Uncle George were born.  The family in time moved back to Kirkcaldy and then to Canada.

Marmot – The Moving of Elm Street Baptist Church

The Moving of Elm Street Baptist ChurchPennies from Heaven are one thing, but rain actually drenching the Pastor during the sermon is quite another.  Dr. Richard “Richie” Robinson was just about to done Part IV of his sermon series on The Sermon on the Mount, Blessed are the peacemakers, when the roof above him gave way just a little, and the good Reverend was soaked from head to foot.  This was tragedy enough, one would think, but it was Pentecost Sunday, and Richie was trying to follow the liturgical calendar.  Just for this occasion he’d asked his wife to make a new red stole – and the colour ran.  Elspeth had used the best of materials, but didn’t think about the dangers of damp.  His white shirt was now crimson, and the cream coloured carpet of the pulpit area was a livid pink.

The building committee met the very next night to consider their options.  As repeated by Kerry Driver, editor of the Marmot Shopper-Express, “the chair of the Building and Music Committee, Mrs. Stewart (Isabelle) Evans (63, of Pierre Street in the New Subdivision), put forth a motion that ‘the Elm Street Baptist Church be moved to a new location, more suitable to the good works it has always tried to do.’ The motion was carried by a large majority.” The Shopper-Express went on to speculate at length as to where the new site would be and what particular part of Marmot would be more suitable than the current location.

It should be noted that Elm Street Baptist Church had more than a leaky roof.  On Sundays when a baptism was planned, the Sunday School was cancelled since the grade 2-4 and the grade 6-8 rooms were flooded.  The tap in the baptistry had to be left on throughout the service to maintain a certain depth, and the citizenry came to think of the sound as if it were a lovely fountain.  Miraculously, the grade five classroom remained dry, but it was a former broom closet, so it was of little practical use for the majority of the students.

Window Light

The choir loft had such squeaky pews that newcomers thought it was a ‘progressive’ congregation, with drums and electric guitars. That sound was only the tenors fidgeting mightily during the sermons.  Dr. Richie was well loved, but he could bore at an Olympic level.  When the choir did sing, they were made to sing into microphones that must have been donated to the church by Noah himself, having finished with them on the ark.  This lent a tinny and spectacularly annoying tone to a group who were already no Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  The list of problems went on and on.

Mrs. Evans and her husband Stewart went around Marmot County, seeking tenders for the moving of the church.  Trifficanti Brothers, the largest construction firm in the area was very interested, and met twice with the Evanses to look toward a mutually beneficial future.  Stewart Evans was the Technical Head at John Graves Simcoe High and Vocational School, where he taught advanced carpentry and intermediate electrical work.  He was no fool, therefore, when it came to the business of construction, he would pepper his conversation with titbits like “fuse” and “dado”.  Gianni Trifficanti was no doubt impressed beyond words when Evans asked if they would be using Robertson or Phillips head screws in the work on Elm Street Baptist.  They entered into a conversation about the theology of screw heads, and while that elevated discussion went on, Isabelle Evans was inspecting various patterns of carpeting for the Ladies’ Parlour.  There was a dusky rose she liked very well.  It had a forty year guarantee and was supposed not to stain even under the most severe circumstances.  This appealed to Isabelle, since she knew of the staining power of the purple grape juice Mother’s Corner served at their Tuesday morning meetings.  The Ladies Guild had been forced to comb the second-hand shops of Marmot county seeking out more furniture to cover the offending stained areas.  By the time they were done, the Ladies’ Parlour of Elm Street Baptist was a second-hand shop for furniture.  You could hardly walk.

While looking at this superior type of floor covering, however, her mind wandered to the upcoming cruise she and her husband were planning to take: The Mediterranean & the Holy Land – led by Pastor and Mrs R. Robinson.  People of the church had lined up to get their tickets, and several had been sold the Anglicans, and even Presbyterians, no less.  Friday morning the group flew from Pearson Airport in Toronto to Rome for a night, and from there on to a two week adventure aboard The Holy Sea – a ship owned in fact by Holland-America, but run by the Catholic Church.  Local ministers were encouraged to take their flocks along by offering free cruises for the clergy and their spouses (if any). The ships were always full.

On Wednesday night, a new piece of land was bought, but there were problems.  Some folks didn’t like the spot, and others hated it.  What prompted the swift action was the low price, and the assurance from the realtor that the church could sell the land any day for twice what they paid.  With the cruise coming, the lot could have been sold from under them, and the committee decided to buy the land with the money in the savings account of the church.  They prepared for their cruise very satisfied with the decision which would at least be a super investment, and excited about the work ahead when they returned home.

Almost everyone who was anyone in the Elm Street Baptist Church was going on the cruise – deacons, vergers and the lot.  They had almost thought of shutting down the church altogether, but retired Professor Jonathan Able-Wax offered to take the services and keep going in the regular Pastor’s absence.  With everything seeming to be in hand, the happy travellers packed and set off for this journey of travel, religious discovery and new experiences.

Sunday morning, Professor Able-Wax took the pulpit and preached a fire and brimstone sermon on the job of every Christian to take a role in the running of the church.  He told them that although the committee chairs were mostly away, the committees should still continue to act.  He quoted the resolution of change as it had been repeated in the Shopper-Express; “that the Elm Street Baptist Church be moved to a new location, more suitable to the good works it has always tried to do.”

“The land”, Able-Wax shouted, emphasising the last syllable of the longer words, “The new land is purchased, free and clear!  We have our direction from the resolution!  Let us set about today to move this great church so that when the Pastor and his group return, they will find a building and congregation renewed, stronger and better prepared to face the challenges ahead!”

“I urge all of you to rise up today and work hard to move this historical edifice: ‘Faith without works is dead!’ We must carry on – we must look forward – we must do the Lord’s work in this great town of Marmot!  We have a call – hear the call – listen to the voice – and respond!”

The electric and dazzling sermon, preached in the basso-profundo voice Professor Able-Wax reserved for great occasions, stirred the people to such an extent that even those who never considered serving on a committee were moved to action.  Before the day was out, a plan for the moving was in hand.

You know, really, that this was the chance many Marmot Baptists had been seeking to put themselves in the drivers’ seats, to have some say and power.  As at most churches, there is a select group who run things.  In this case, the worm had turned, and it would be a lesson for everyone.  Those who undertook this mammoth job learned that church work can be very hard and disappointing, as well as rewarding, and those who were usually in charge learned not to be too glib in the wording of motions at meetings.  Whereas they really meant to rebuild a new church with only the possibility of a new site, they had actually said “move the church”, and that is what the people, fired up by Professor Able-Wax, did.

They hired a prominent firm of building movers and had Elm Street Baptist Church moved, lock, stock and baptistry to the new location on the corner of Victoria and Maple Streets. I’ll spare you the gory details of the two weeks that made up this remarkable and Herculean labour. It only needs saying that Professor Able-Wax was never asked or allowed to preach again.

Kerry Driver of the Shopper-Express had a heyday taking pictures and getting interviews.  A special section was planned and executed. It was so excellent, in fact, that the Shopper-Express’ parent company, Beaverpond Communications ran all or part of the special reports in their affiliate papers across the country.  Try to imagine Dr. Richie Robinson’s surprise, then, on their flight home, reading the complimentary National Globe-Express, when he saw a photo essay of some of his flock moving, actually moving their – his – church.  Copies of the newspapers were given to all the passengers, and as the Elm Street Baptist group got to page eight around the same time, there went up somewhat of a collective gasp.

“Kingston, I should have gone to Kingston,” thought Pastor Richie as he realised with horror the full extent of the folly of his flock.  Stewart and Isabelle Evans were more shocked than most as they were mentioned by name in the article, and Isabelle was quoted rather indirectly, and incorrectly:

“We’re sure going to surprise Pastor Richie!,” said the Reverend Professor Able-Wax, 78, yesterday as the great edifice of Elm Street Baptist Church in Marmot, Ontario, was moved from its old location to a new footing in an amazing engineering feat.  “Isabelle (Mrs. Stewart) Evans made the motion to move the building at the last church council meeting, and we’re carrying out her wishes,” proudly espoused James Rockville, 53, foreman of the works.  Mrs. Evans and much of the church body have been on a religious pilgrimage-cruise of the Holy Land and its deserts while the remaining congregation undertook the moving the church building. “Sure it was the Professor Able-Wax’s words as stirred us to action,” said Mrs. Dwight Gilliam, 61.

 

Upon his arrival home, and after seeing the same old, leaky church on the new plot, the Reverend Dr. Richie Robinson was heard to say, “I never thought it would look like this”.  Hearing only what they wanted to hear, the people were pleased.

Marmot

Marmot is a town of my own creation, although its geography does have similarities to my home town of Dundas Ontario.  I have written about Marmot in a series of short stories, mostly centred around the people who inhabit this odd little world.

The mayor is “Gentleman Jim” Gilderslieth, and he keeps the town running, or he thinks he does.   As the grossly illegitimate scion of one of Marmot’s most distinguished families, Jim has always had to scratch and fight for what was his, and mostly, he’s done it.

Those of you who know me will know that the churches will loom large in Marmot, and they do.  Mount Cavalry (not a spelling error, that’s what the sign outside the door says) is the local Pentecostal church, and there are church for the Baptists and Anglicans and others.  The Baptist church gets moved to a new location, and later a visit from the local Bishop to the Anglican church – these are chronicalled in the Marmot stories.

How did Marmot get a Pet Cemetery?  How did the school get a newly painted gym?  Why is the Holy Rosary Catholic gift store run by Israel Cohen?  You’ll get the answers.

The Marmot stories have been entombed in my computer, only brought out for the odd public reading, but I thought I’d start sharing them once in a while with my blog readers.  I hope you’ll enjoy your occasional visits to Marmot.