Revelation 4; Luke 8: 22-25
A royal figure on a throne who looks like red jewels, surrounded by an emerald rainbow. Seven spirits of God like flaming torches. A sea of glass like crystal. Four living creatures, with the appearances of a lion, an ox, a human face, and an eagle, covered in eyes, each with six wings. The exotic and mythological imagery of Revelation chapter four, our first reading this morning, in many ways, reminds me of the fantasy world imagined by J.R.R. Tolkien. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy were just the tip of the iceberg of that world. Tolkien wrote copious histories and mythologies of the many ages of Middle Earth, going back thousands of years before the time of characters such as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. You may be familiar with this from works such as The Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales.
One of my favourite parts of the rich and extraordinary mythology imagined by Tolkien is the story he tells about its beginning – its creation myth. It begins with Ilúvatar, ‘the One’, whose first creatures were the Ainur, intellectual or angelic spirits, to whom he teaches the great ‘themes of music’. The glory and splendour of the music given by ‘the One’ astonishes these creatures, who bow down before him in reverential silence. But ‘the One’ encourages them to take up this great theme, and to adorn it with their own contributions, so that a beautiful harmony may be wakened into song.
As ‘the One’ sits and listens to the majestic music of the angelic spirits, filling all places with beauty, he begins to notice that one of his creatures has introduced a discordant element into the music through pride and the desire to elevate their own position within the harmony. As a result, the great theme and harmony is lost, and about the throne of ‘the One’, writes Tolkien, ‘there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged’.
As the original music loses all harmony, it becomes merely a vain and endlessly repeating, clamouring monotony. However, Ilúvatar, ‘the One’, brings forth a third theme of music, which takes the discord and disharmony of the fallen music, and weaves it back into the original, and he proclaims: ‘no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.’
This is a deeply Christian vision.
The beauty and splendour of creation issuing forth from God as a kind of ancient and harmonious music: the first theme. We perceive glimpses of this ageless melody all around us: in the birth of a child; in the wonder and vitality of nature; in the splendour of a medieval cathedral.
But we also know that the music of creation suffers from disharmony and discord: the second theme. Across the landscape of our experience comes and goes the storms of life: the death and suffering of those we love; the violence of nature itself in the survival of the fittest; the turmoil of international conflict and war.
We receive creation as the gift of an exquisite music, but we know that it does not perfectly reflect its composer’s design. There has been a fall from its original grace, an ancient pride which has distorted its natural harmony, in which the whole human family has some share.
Yet, in the celebration of the Eucharist today, and especially in Phoebe’s baptism, we celebrate that a ‘third theme’ of music, to borrow Tolkien’s phrase, has been introduced into creation. For, in Christ, God has descended into the very depths of the disharmony and discord of creation. He has descended into the raging waters and violent storm of sin and death, so that all of creation, even its most God-forsaken realms, might be woven back into the theme of the original musical score.
That work of redemptive re-attunement happens in a very special way for Phoebe as she is baptised today. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, her soul is fashioned into the temple and throne-room of God. She is woven into the hymn of Christ’s redemption, as she becomes a holy sanctuary where divine music-making can sound forth in a new way.
And her baptism is a reminder for all of us, especially as we prepare to enter the holy season of Lent, that the re-attunement of our lives, the work of God’s grace, harmonising the discords of our lives, is a lifelong process, and one to which we must constantly attend. If God sets up his heavenly throne-room in our hearts in baptism, then we must be constantly alert to the many false idols which seek to usurp him. Lent is a time to take those idols off the throne, so that our hearts may echo the song of heaven, ‘You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honour and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.’
God’s own life – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – is the original harmonic music. And creation is the supreme grace of that music being shared with others. We must honour and worship God because that is the very nature of our existence. Our life simply is the music which echoes the glory of God. We are brought into being by the very breath of his mouth. And in the gift of Christ, the Divine Music itself takes flesh in our world, so that it might re-unite the song of earth into the harmonies of heaven forever.
So let us pray today for Phoebe, that she may be given grace to add her own contribution to the original theme. And let us pray for ourselves, that the divine music would continue to re-shape our hearts and minds.