Welcome to the commons cast. We're glad to have you here. We hope you find something meaningful in our teaching this week. Head to commcommons.church for more information.

Said, we are particularly glad that you are here for church as we find ourselves coming out of Easter and into the season of Eastertide. Bobby talked about Eastertide last week. If you're familiar with that term, Eastertide is the fifty day celebration of Easter that begins on Resurrection Sunday and continues now all the way until Pentecost. And so while most of the Easter decorations have been taken down in the room and put away, we did decide to try to keep up these wonderful hanging flowers on the stage for the next fifty days as a reminder of the season that we're in. However, that seemed like a better idea before we realized late in the week that we were going to have to play a video in the service so we trust that you'll just bear with us if you're in the room today.

Because let's honest be here, I think we all need a little bit of reminder of Easter this week. The weather held off just long enough for us to have an amazing wonderful Easter celebration, but then I think we got dumped on with something like 54 centimeters of snow just to remind us that we do in fact live in Calgary. Welcome back to anyone that was dreaming of spring. Can I say though, what an amazing job Bobby did on Resurrection Sunday last week? All through Lent, we were looking at the Gospel of John, a series called Signs of Things to Come.

And John has hidden all of these signs throughout his writing, miracles that point us to resurrection. And so together we looked at turning water to wine and healing a sick child, the Pool Of Bethesda, feeding 5,000, walking on water, creating sight from blindness and raising Lazarus. Seven signs that mirror the seven days of creation from the poetry of Genesis. But then, after a long pause in the Gospel of John, there is a final, eighth miraculous moment. And this time we find ourselves back in the setting of a garden.

As Bobby pointed out, Jesus is even mistaken for a gardener just in case we missed the symbolism of the moment. Because resurrection is an eighth day. The beginning of a new week, creation begun all over again in our hearts. And this is the core of the Christian story that there is always room to start again. There's always hope for a new Monday morning to find us.

And as Bobby said last week, we witness resurrection all around us all the time because we see each other rise again and start over all the time. And so to see the way that John has woven not just the details of Jesus' death, but also the poetry of His life and resurrection into the Easter story all of this is part of how that story continues to expand and reach into all of our lives even today some two thousand years later. That, however, leads us into our next conversation. Because our new series is called the Old Songs' and that's all about some of the hymnody or the poetry that is hidden throughout our New Testament. In fact, we're going to look specifically at the opening of the Gospel of John in this series as well.

All through the New Testament there are a series of what appear to be pre existing songs that the writers are quoting for us. This is part of something that we call source criticism. That's when scholars try to understand the source of a passage or an idea. What they do is they look through the work of material looking for hints or clues about where something has come from, and whether it might come from a different source than the named writer. And all of this is a little bit subjective, obviously.

Ancient writers did not foot their materials for us. By the way, I recently signed off on the copy edits for my next book. It's called Upside Down Apocalypse and it will be out this summer. Let me know if you want to read a pre release copy. There are about 50 available from the publisher right now.

But I came across an interesting copyright detail as I worked through the edits on this book. Now, you can quote a book, and as long as you cite it obviously, that's fine, there's quite a lot of citations in my work, but I found you can't quote a song without explicit permission from that copyright holder. So I had a section in my manuscript where I used the line All fly away, O glory. You know that song? I won't try to sing it for you.

This series is about songs, but I am not equipped to sing any of them for you. Well, turns out that the song's title is technically I'll Fly Away. So I can use that but I'll fly away, oh glory! Well, that's a line from the song so I can't use that without permission. In the end, the editor suggested changing the line to 'flying away to glory' in italics so that the readers would get the reference while not running afoul of any copyright laws.

But I found this fascinating: I had no idea there were were different rules for songs and books. Though your mileage may vary on what you find fascinating, the point being things were very different in the ancient world. Not only did they not have copyright rules to appease, in a lot of cases, they likely didn't even know whose words they were quoting. These songs, if indeed that's what they are, were likely communal compositions, moulded and shaped and passed throughout the early Christian communities. Now, some of these hymns, like the opening to the Gospel of John that we'll look at next week, that was likely written by the same person who wrote the rest of the book, but the passage was intentionally written as a song that you could sing or memorize in order to internalize the theology.

Other examples like say the hymn in Philippians two that likely originated with someone other than Paul but made its way to him and so he uses it to reinforce a point that he wants to make. There are a number of different criteria that scholars use to identify these passages. Some of them are pretty technical and downright nerdy. But the basic ones are along these lines: first, they are marked by textual dislocation. Basically, that just means that someone doesn't think it flows naturally from the preceding section, it just feels like there's a change in voice.

Second, they are characterised by stylistic construction preferring anaphoral style and parataxis to hypotaxis. And yes, I apologise, but that is a real quote from an article that I read in my research this week. All it means is that these sections tend to use shorter sentences, and they tend to restate the same ideas in different ways. Third, they use repetition more than normal speech. And you're one of those people who think that worship songs repeat themselves ad nauseam you're not wrong it's just not new.

And finally, these are often arranged specifically in lines and strobes. So, if you're reading your Bible and you come across one of these passages, they will most often be set out in poetic style with indented lines and new paragraphs for each line. Now, of course, we don't have the original copies for anything in the NT, Testament but the fact that some of the earliest copies we do have set these sections out in this way indicates that at least the scribes thought these were intended as songs. So, how many of these songs are there in the our New Testament? Well, is a point that is debated.

Some scholars will argue that single lines or just couplets are taken from pre existing songs and I mean, that's valid. I tried to quote one phrase from a song and I got shut down. We're going to try to focus in this series on some of the more widely agreed upon songs ones that we can, at least in some sense, examine as stand alone units. And to do that, we're going to look at the Gospel of John, at Colossians, at Hebrews, at First Peter, and at Philippians, and we're going to make our way through a wide swath of New Testament material. However, today we're not even going to get into one of these songs at all.

Instead, I want to talk about why we have songs in the first place. First though, let's pray. God, we open our hearts up today. We recognize that words carry meaning and meaning brings us closer to You. And yet we also know that our hearts and our words, our abilities to articulate and communicate all of this always falls short of Your glory and grace.

So we embrace that ineptitude. We embrace the failings of our language and we turn instead to the arts to capture something of everything that you are to us. All the ways that our hurts and our anxieties, our fears and our doubts overwhelm us all of the things that we carry with us but fear to name we bring those in our songs and we lay them before you and we make ourselves vulnerable to you. And we trust that as we sing, You will never shame us. For those of us that find ourselves in need of resurrection in this season, we haven't been able to think our way to You yet.

We pray that the songs that we sing, the prayers that we offer, the ways that we echo the poetry of Your church, all of that would kindle in us a new desire to love You in new ways. That in all of our songs we trust that You are with us and that You carry us. In the strong name of the Risen Christ, we pray. Amen. Alright.

Today we're going to talk about songs. But let's start with this question: Why are songs such a fundamental part of church, but also the larger human experience? We get here every week for Sunday, some of us do, that's a crack at me. But we gather here every week and we sing. And whether we're good or bad at it, whether we can stay in key or not, whether we get together or not, we sing, which is a pretty unique experience for most people today, I think.

I still remember when I was first a youth pastor in Toronto, something like twenty years ago, and I was working with a lot of kids that had never attended church, or at least it was not part of their regular rhythms. But those were back in the days when we were put on a whole church service just for youth and grown up church would happen and youth church would happen. And I don't think that's a really great healthy model for families, which is why we don't do it here at Commons. But back in the day we did and we would do worship. And since all the real musicians were tied up in grown up church, would get up there with my electric guitar and sing my heart out as terrible as my singing has always been.

And all the kids would call it kara oke. I would be like, Guys, no, this isn't karaoke. This is worship. And they would be like, I don't know. Rockstar wannabe with long hair and a backing track and words on the screen and that looks like karaoke.

This was back when I was firmly entrenched in the evangelical industrial complex and so I needed everything we did in church to be distinct from anything that happened in the real world. But over time, as I've gotten older, I realised that they weren't denigrating worship with that comment. I mean, sure, they were probably denigrating the particular worship that I was capable of presenting, but to be fair, that is fair. But they weren't dismissing worship by calling it karaoke as much as they were making a comparison to something they knew and they understood. Something people participate in and enjoy, something we might joke about, but let's be honest something that all of us kind of love.

This is what's fascinating not just about music but about the communal aspect of music we have lost in a lot of our lives. To sing together is about more than just the music, it is about the experience. Now, if you've been around commons for any length of time, you've probably heard me drop a reference to Pearl Jam at least once or twice. But as a 44 year old man, you've got to understand that Pearl Jam hit the scene in 1991, just as I was turning 13, and they have been part of my life ever since. I have all of the albums on vinyl and in Apple Music.

I'm part of the ten fan club, and I get all of the special releases, but I have been to see Pearl Jam live six times now. If you're a Pearl Jam fan, you know that's not a lot. That's sort of a rookie status for Pearl Jam fans. The problem is I live in Calgary, so there's only so many reasonable opportunities to see them live. However, no matter how many times I've heard these songs hundreds, literally at least it is always a very different, far more powerful experience hearing them live and not just live, but with a stadium full of people who are just as excited about hearing them as I am.

That communal experience of listening together, and not just listening, but singing together because, let's be honest, who goes to a show and doesn't sing? At least for your favorite part. But that shared experience is more than just words and melody it is in a very real sense something spiritual. An expression of that divine space between us. And if you think I'm talking too highly about Pearl Jam concert, you clearly have not been to one, so sign up next time they come through.

This is also what's so important about these hidden New Testament hymns. It's not just the technical exercise of parsing out source critical theories. It's the opportunity to participate in a shared experience of deep church community. Now on the other hand, there are scholars that I quite like a lot. There's one named Stephen Fowl who has written one of the better commentaries on Philippians.

There's And he's not a fan of attempts to parse out these hymns. His argument is, first, that we can't know for sure, so what's the point? And second, that even if they are pre existing hymns shared by the church community, we can only ever read them in situ. We really only have access to these songs through the lens of, say, Paul in the example of the Philippian hymn. Even if Paul is quoting, he's using that quote for his purposes and that's all we really have access to.

And I get his argument. I even agree with him in the sense that we can't rebuild an original theology of these songs apart from the authors that quote them for us. But even to understand, The earliest Christian community was shaping and sharing songs that hymns and poetry were our first theology even prior to Scripture. That in itself is incredibly meaningful, I think. Because it helps to root our faith as much in what we think together as in what we feel together.

That's what happens when we sing together. It's more than just an intellectual exercise, it's an experience of shared encounter. Think about it this way: when you come to church and someone gets up on the stage or on the screen to speak and they're sharing their experience of the Divine, it's powerful but much like the Philippians reading a letter from Paul, it's disconnected from us. And we work hard to frame that as dialogue at Commons as much as possible to always acknowledge that no one person ever has a monopoly on God. But in the teaching segment of a service, like right now, you are primarily engaging with my ideas.

When we sing together though, yes, of course, there's an artist that has crafted these words and that melody for us, but we're placing those words on our lips, speaking together, sharing not just in the idea, but in the expression of it. So, imagine or try to, sitting in Philippi, hearing Paul's letter being read, thinking about what he sang, engaging with his thoughts, but then he begins to quote a song that you know. Words that you have sung, ideas that you have expressed together with those near you time and again. The letter is being read, but now all of a sudden you're mumbling along under your breath, you're preaching with Paul. These are words that have moved from author to community to Scripture and now offered back to you.

That is something that is profoundly beautiful, that goes far theology and reaches into the heart of what it means to follow God together. There's history and memory. There's a surrender to the acknowledgement that we are truly in this together. And so when Paul or Peter or John or the writer of Hebrews quote a song of the community to the community, they are inviting the community into the creation of that moment. And in some small way, this is what happens every time we place the words of the Church on our lips, every time we sing together, and we allow someone else to direct our vocal chords.

Every time we surrender our doubts to someone else's trust, we create Christian community. In fact, in some small way, every time we place scripture on the screen and you read along with us, even if it's just in your head, it's this subtle reminder that what binds us is not just what we agree on. It's that we choose to ground ourselves together in a shared story, the story of Jesus. And these buried hymns, the New Testament remind us that we have been doing that from before there was even a Christian scripture. So, speaking of which, let's take a look at Paul's words in one Corinthians today.

Paul is not quoting an old song here these are straight up his words. We'll get into the songs next week. Paul is very much talking about the ways in which Christian community comes together through shared meaning making. And I think that can be a really helpful frame for us for the rest of the series. He writes, starting in chapter 12, verse 21: The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don't need you' and the head cannot say to the feet, 'I don't need you.

On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. And the parts that we think are less honorable, we treat them with special honor. God has put the body together so that there should be no division, but that its parts might have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers if one part is honoured, every part rejoices with it. Now, it's very possible you've heard that before.

It's a fairly well known passage. And Paul here is talking about the diversity of our gifts and stories and how when we properly value each other we are all better off for it. However, there's also some first century context here that provides both a subtext and, I think, some focus to Paul's words. And that context has to do with the god Asclepius. Coincidentally, Bobby taught us about Asclepius just a few weeks ago, when we encountered the Pool Of Bethesda.

But Asclepius was the Greek god of healing and medicine. He was that guy who carried around a rod with a snake winding itself around it, which is why you tend to see that today on hospitals and ambulances. But in Corinth specifically, there was a temple dedicated to Asclepius called the Asclepion. And what people would do is they would come to that temple and they would have these terracotta plaster molds made of the specific body parts that they needed healing in. And those molds would then be left and stored in the temple, and priests would then be paid to pray to Asclepius for the healing of that particular body part.

Here's an image of ancient molds that had been discovered within the ruins of the Asclepion in Corinth. In this photo, they are being prepared for museums around the world today. But what this means is that if you are a Corinthian, reading this letter from Paul in the first century, hearing him speak about the futility of disembodied parts, And this is more than just a neat metaphor for the Church this is a contrast to something you see around you daily. Think of that image of those plaster moulds and set Paul's language of bodies coming together to be fully alive against the imagination of a temple down the street filled with these lifeless plaster casts. And you'll start to get a better sense of what he's trying to get at here.

This isn't just about everyone playing their part like some cog in a machine. This is about the difference between a lifeless religious system and a community of shared conscience that pulses with variety and vibrancy and difference, and through that, actually comes alive. Paul is saying that, unlike the disembodied parts of the Asclepion, we heal each other, we come together and we value each other. We allow the stories of those around us to shape us. And this is where we come alive.

In other words, he's talking here about the very thing he does when he quotes the songs of the community back to the community. He's talking about what we do every week when we sing together the way the church has apparently always done. We are welcoming someone else's words. We are honoring someone else's creativity. We are allowing the liturgy or the work of the people to shape our experience of the divine.

And there are a thousand different ways we can do this, as many as there are individuals in community, but in some very real sense, we come alive and we heal each other in that surrender to each other. And for me, to understand that we have always been doing this, that we have been singing together and speaking life to each other, that we have been quoting each other from before we even had a scripture This is a profound reminder to me that as much as I might value my intellect and my ability to make sense or to think through the story of Jesus, it will always be my participation in the practice of community that will truly define me as a follower of Jesus. To be Christian is to be shaped by the Jesus who invites us to be shaped by each other. And this is why the best songs are always about far more than just music. They are about moments and memories in our life they are about the way that melodies connect us to the person who is beside us.

And when I read these old songs songs that pre date even the writing of Paul and John and Peter songs that reach back to the very cradle of the Christian story then in some mystic but very real sense, perhaps I stand beside those first humans to be enthralled by the way of peace. Not just those who wrote words down for us, but all of the women and children and fathers and daughters from wildly disparate social and economic backgrounds who came together to practice the way of Jesus, embed it in song, and pass it along to us. Because to know that this shared experience of song is preserved in the very foundations of Christian Scripture, I mean, that in itself gives me profound hope for the Church. An assurance that my journey will always depend on a lot more than just me. And for that, I am very grateful.

Let's pray. God who sings over us, who knows the power not just of words and ideas, but of melody and rhythm, of emotion and tone, who speaks to us with a kind heart and welcomes us to be embraced in full and complete love. As we walk our way through these old songs, these ancient hymns that predate even the writings of Scriptures, that help us reach back to the very cradle of the Christian story, to the earliest people who knew you and your way. Might we find ourselves standing side by side with men and women, our siblings throughout time, who have found in you the truth and the life and the way that they were meant to live. May that beauty and diversity motivate all of us to continue moving forward, even one small step at a time.

Because enough steps becomes a journey, and a journey, once we learn how to do it well, becomes a dance. And God, we pray your Spirit would continue to sing good songs and teach us the right moves. In the strong name of the risen Christ, we pray. Amen.