After I wrote “Romance,” Maren Tirabassi asked me, “Is this set to music?” It wasn’t, but I, too, found its rhythm begged for a melody. Here it is:
Bring Me a Rose, Apostles
By Eric Anderson April 25, 2023
Bring me your time and a rose, apostles, gathered in prayer; gathered to share. Bring me your time and a rose-colored glass, to which we’ll aspire and fail.
Bring me the needs that were met, apostles, the poor lifted up, assembled to sup. Bring me the gifts of the rich, apostles, the rich become poor in the blood of the cup.
Bring me the change – for it came, apostles. The rich held their wealth despite failure of stealth. Bring me the gifts for the saints, apostles, they gave for Jerusalem’s health.
The rose-colored glass will not hide, apostles, Saphira’s collapse, Ananias’ grim lapse. Nor the laud that is given to greed, apostles, however much time will elapse.
Bring me your time and a rose, apostles, gathered in prayer; gathered to share. Bring me your time and a rose-colored glass, to which we’ll aspire Aspire and fail.
This is the premiere streamed performance of “Take the Labyrinth Road,” sung live at 11 AM HST on October 19, 2022. It was written for the Pastoral Leaders Retreat of the Hawai’i Conference, United Church of Christ, and first played during that event on October 12, 2022.
by Eric Anderson October 7, 2022
C Dm F Em / C Dm C G / C F Dm G / C G F G / C – – –
Twisting, turning paths from without to within Over gravel, soil and roots. Let the time begin For a journey of the soul from brokenness to whole… ness in the Spirit, Come take the labyrinth road.
The journey curves about in the world, in the heart, And the ground below is rough or is smoothed by art. Moving body, moving soul from brokenness to whole… ness in the Spirit, Come take the labyrinth road.
No promises on the way for insight or inspiration Just a time to step away for peaceful contemplation, For a journey of the soul from brokenness to whole… ness in the Spirit, Come take the labyrinth road.
First one leads, then one follows One aids, and one seeks aid. In the story of friendship You and I have made. But you’ve taken the lead this season And I cannot keep pace To the banks of the River Jordan, To your crossing place.
[Chorus 1]
There’s a time for work and progress, There’s a time for rest and play, But this time to say farewell to you: I’d have asked for a later day.
[Verse 2]
We shared in joys and sorrows. We put our hands to the plow. There were times of heartfelt sharing: May they comfort us now. As you walk to the bank of Jordan, As you near your crossing time, My tears flow with reason, My grief has so many rhymes.
[Chorus 2]
There’s a time to plant and nourish, There’s a time to harvest and store, But I’m lost in this time of farewell. I’d have asked for a little time more.
[Verse 3]
Bright days and thunder sounding, Our minds at work to shape words Telling others’ stories as sweetly As ever a story was heard. As you make your crossing of Jordan, Don’t linger, my friend, for me. You can lay aside life’s burden. In the crossing, my friend, you’re free.
You can lay aside life’s burden. In the crossing, be free.
[Chorus 3]
There’s a time to live and to flourish, There’s a time to shed life’s shell. Though I could have asked for later, my friend: Aloha o’e – fare well.
I try to avoid patting myself on the back in public – but if I don’t, what is social media for?
For some years I have chosen to follow two parallel disciplines each Lent. One is a fairly straightforward decision to refrain from something during the forty-six days of the season (I include the Sundays for this). I’ve given up fast food, beer, soda, computer games, and similar kinds of things (though never coffee – never coffee). I have almost never been able to successfully repeat one of these, so I generally have to choose something new and different each year.
The second discipline, on the other hand, is to take something on. I’ve followed exercise programs and prayer cycles. Frequently I’ve done creative projects with photography or poetry. In fact, my weekly Lection Prayers are an outgrowth of one Lenten season. I simply kept going with them.
This year I set a goal I was not certain I could achieve. I decided to write a song each week of Lent.
Although my repertoire of compositions has expanded greatly over the years, the truth is that I don’t write songs all that often. I was astonished when I counted the songs I’d written in 2021 and came up with a dozen. For me, songwriting requires a good deal more time, concentration, and focus than most other writing projects. I have and do write to deadlines, but I generally prefer to follow some kind of inspiration when it comes to music. I usually am happier with the results.
To set a goal for songwriting which is half my output in the previous year – in six weeks – well. I wasn’t sure I could do it.
I did give myself some space. I did not insist that each song be composed within an assigned week. All I required was that there be six songs by the end of the season. Nor did I impose any subjects or themes on them. The songs would be what they were, and they could fit into the sacred or the secular as it came along. I also knew I’d write one anyway: I’ve made a habit for a few years now of writing something for Easter. Still. Six songs in six weeks?
Friends, I did it. And… all six have now been performed and are available on YouTube.
Wisdom, Feed Us
Premiere performance during the Community Concert of March 11, 2022.
Dream of Peace
Premiere performance during the Community Concert of March 25, 2022.
Come On, Guitar
Premiere performance as A Song from Church of the Holy Cross, March 23, 2022.
Creature of this World
Premiere performance as A Song from Church of the Holy Cross: April 6, 2022.
As We Bring Him Down
Premiere performance during Scripture and Poetry for Good Friday, April 15, 2022.
Walk, Mary, Walk
Premiere performance during What I’m Thinking #259, April 18, 2022.
Community Concert of July 23, 2021 – Clicking “Play” jumps to the beginning of the song, “Journey Round a Star.”
As noted in the video, I am one of those people who will wish others a good trip around the sun to honor their birthday. This song takes up that theme.
They’ll put billionaires in space, because they think they can afford it. But this is Spaceship Earth; we’re already aboard it! Sing out… as we mark the day We came into the world and were on our way.
[Chorus]
All aboard for a journey round a star. Stand still all you like; even so you’re traveling far. All aboard for a trip around the sun. Celebrate the days since your journey begun.
Each you is unique, you are one among billions And each circuit of Sol… you’re a soul worth gazillions. Sing out… You’re a creature of worth. You’re a child of blessing. You’re a child of Earth
[Chorus]
Revel in joy; Loved is what you are. A star among the planets, orbiting a star. Sing out… Loud and clear. Sing out… Launch a new year.
What I’m Thinking is a brief weekly reflection on the upcoming Scriptures – except when it becomes What I’m Singing.
How Could the Story End?
They stepped out in the morning’s shade Bearing the spice mixture that they’d made. How will we roll the stone away? Is a question they don’t need to ask today.
[Chorus]
How could the story end? Grieving/mourning/searching for a cherished friend? No, the story goes on past the closing page: Jesus Christ is risen!
They found that things were not as they had been. The stone was rolled aside and they went in. With startled face they heard the word That Jesus’ resurrection had occurred.
[Chorus]
They left in fright and who could blame them If they kept silent lest the story shame them. But someone told and someone told and so we all know: That Jesus Christ is risen!
[Chorus]
A poem/prayer based on Mark 16:1-8, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year B, Easter Sunday.
I wrote this song in the fall of 2018, when a number of conversations turned to a wish for Jesus to come along and start to flip some tables. I expected it to be a rousing, even raucous anthem: but it turned to lament.
They’re changing money in the temple, Jesus. They’re not giving full value for each coin. They’re changing money in the temple, Jesus. They’ve turned a house of prayer… Into a house of thieves…
[Chorus]
What are you going to do about it, Jesus? The gold is piled high… What are you going to do about it, Jesus? Do you see where the gold… lies?
They’re piling money in the towers, Jesus. They won’t even pay the builders their full coin. They’re piling money in the towers, Jesus. They’ve given all that power… Into the hands of thieves…
[Chorus] Listen… to the gold lies. Listen… to the golden lies.
We’ve exchanged our priests for tycoons, Jesus. We’ve given our worship to the coin. We’ve traded priests for tycoons, Jesus. We’ve given our allegiance… To generations of thieves…
[Final Chorus]
What are you going to do about it, Jesus? The gold is piled high… What are you going to do about it, Jesus? Or the tables, where the gold… lies?
Flip the tables: the gold… flies! Toss the tables, Jesus. Make the gold… fly!
These are the lyrics. The recording below comes from a live performance at Church of the Holy Cross UCC in Hilo, Hawai’i, on August 25, 2018.
When my heart is heavy as the leaden sky,
When my vision fails because of clouded eye,
When my courage strains
Against obstacles so high:
Give me a song to sing.
[Chorus]
Give me a song to sing
When dawn is breaking.
Give me a song to sing
When my heart is cold.
Give me a song… to sing…
When the heavens flash with glory!
Give me a song.
Let love unfold.
When my neighbors strain to live a life of trial,
When my nation turns to courses that are vile,
When righteousness calls
And hears only denial:
Give me a song to sing.
[Chorus]
When the birds sing out their melodies so free,
When the waves and wind keep time in company,
When all Creation’s voices
Rise in harmony:
Give me a song to sing.
Then I’ve been given a song to sing!
[Chorus]
[Final Ending]
Give me a song.
Let love unfold.
Give me a song.
Let God’s love unfold.
Give me a song.
Let God’s love unfold.
This song was performed to conclude a sermon on August 19, 2018, at Church of the Holy Cross UCC, Hilo. There is audio of the complete sermon, “This May Need a Song,” including the performance.
Once a young ‘apapane learned to sing (which is not unusual).
He grew up to sing with his family, with his friends, and with pretty much any other ‘apapane around. They liked to sing to each other in the trees as they sought the nectar from ohi’a lehua.
Singing just made this little bird feel good. Hearing the songs of the other birds around him made him feel even better. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t forgotten. He was part of a flock, and they loved and cared for each other as they sang.
As ‘apapane go, he was an adventurous one. He would fly some distance away just to see what was there. He wanted to see new things, and discover new things, and (of course) going to a different part of the forest helped him find ohi’a that was in blossom.
The rest of the flock liked it when he’d explore, and they liked it when he came back, because he often could lead them to the next stand of trees bearing the bright red blossoms that sustained them.
One day, though, he went farther than usual. He was gone far longer than he’d been before, and while he was gone, the other ‘apapane realized they had to move on. The lehua on their stand of trees were going to seed. Making the best guess at the direction he’d taken, they set out after him.
They guessed wrong. Where he flew mauka, up the mountain, they flew makai, toward the lower slopes. They were sure he’d catch up, or they’d find him. But they didn’t.
When he made his long flight back to the ohi’a grove he’d left that morning, he found himself alone.
Sitting in the last tree with fading flowers, he felt very sorry for himself. He took a sip of the last nectar, and munched on some incautious insects, but mostly he felt alone. He opened his beak to make a sound something like a sob. It was a very sad noise.
In a moment, though, it shifted, because all his life he’d sung the ‘apapane song. His lungs and throat and beak all took that shape, purely by reflex, and he began to sing. He sang solo, no other ‘apapane replied, but in the song he realized that he still carried the ‘apapane music with him. His flock was with him, even if he had no idea where they were. They were with him in the song.
He carried on singing until he fell asleep.
The next day, he made a guess at which way the flock had flown, and they made another guess about where they might find him. They’d fly, and settle in the trees, and sing the ‘apapane tune. This time, good fortune was on the wing. He heard them first (there were more of them to hear, after all), but they soon heard his merry reply.
And so they sang once more together.
There is always something connecting us. Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes it’s a feeling. Always, though, it’s love – aloha – that links even people who are very far apart. Even when it seems that we’re at our loneliest, there is always someone who loves you, and best of all, there is always God who loves us best.
The video comes from the American Bird Conservancy’s YouTube channel.
These are the lyrics. The recording below comes from a live performance at Church of the Holy Cross UCC in Hilo, Hawai’i, on August 25, 2018.
Let there be a song in my heart, Lord,
ordainedgeek 