As the first Lutheran woman hymn writer, and that with an illustrious entry within the very earliest of the Lutheran hymnals, Elisabeth Cruciger is a source of fascination for any who love the Lutheran chorales. Her hymn, “Lord Christ, God’s Only Dear Son” (“Herr Christ, der einig Gotts Sohn”), found in LSB, No. 402, as “The Only Son from Heaven,” is among the brightest lights of the Lutheran chorale tradition. This lovely composition melds the modified tune of a secular love song with a text of supreme devotion to God, reflecting the mystical tradition that contributed to and in many ways enlivened Luther’s Reformation.
But if you’ve ever done a Google search for Elisabeth Cruciger, you have certainly come across this portrait:
Many assume, reasonably enough, that this is a portrait of Elisabeth Cruciger herself. The style, though, betrays it as a later piece. As it turns out, this is in fact a portrait of Italian humanist and Reformation supporter Olympia Fulvia Morata (see her entry on Wikipedia), who flourished some 20 years after Elisabeth Cruciger.
How did this portrait come to be associated with Elisabeth Cruciger? As best I can tell, there was a German-language publication on the women of the Reformation that included both Elisabeth Cruciger and Olympia Fulvia Morata. The latter’s portrait, attractive as it is, was used as cover art, and through the association of the two figures, the portrait began popping up on Google searches for Elisabeth Cruciger.
Does anyone have any more information on the provenance of this portrait? Is there any possibility of tracking down a genuine portrait of Elisabeth Cruciger herself?
My last post was a year ago, and it included the text of my own hymn for the Transfiguration of Our Lord, “In Glory Shone the Holy One.” I have prepared a bulletin insert of the hymn for use in my own congregation this weekend, though I have set the text to the tune “Wo Gott zum Haus,” using the Setting in LSB. This tune and its setting are familiar to congregation members and organists alike, and it has the benefit of being an authentic composition in the Lutheran chorale tradition. Here is the insert:
I have experimented with these 2-sided printable bulletin inserts, and I have verified that inserts formatted like this one can be successfully printed from an iPhone using Apple’s built-in AirPrint. Printing from a desktop machine should present no problems. Just make sure the quality is set to 600 dpi. The insert can be printed 2-sided (flipped on short edge), then sliced in half.
If you have occasion to use the hymn, what do you think? Could the text be improved? What could I do to make printable resources here more usable?
Given the dearth of appropriate hymns for the Transfiguration of Our Lord (it is, after all, rather a recent observance), I was moved to write a hymn for the occasion a few years ago. The hymn was never sung anywhere, aside from my own car/office, nor was the text ever made public, as far as I can remember. It has remained hidden in my notes, but after reviewing it again I think it’s time to include it here. Because it is not a part of the authentic Lutheran chorale tradition, it will, like my other hymn, remain on the blog rather than getting its own page among the hymns. I hope, nevertheless, that it proves edifying to those who choose to peruse it. It is intended to be sung to the tune Veni Redemptor gentium, on which the tune for Luther’s hymn “Savior of the Nations, Come (Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland)” is based, but it can of course be sung to any tune in 8.8. 8.8.
Also, because of the unfortunate compulsory introduction of the Gutenberg text editor on the WordPress platform, I am unable to implement some of the formatting that has become standard on the site. I am therefore experimenting here with some alternate formatting that reflects 16th- and 17th-century hymnal printing conventions. Eventually I may try migrating the rest of the site to this format, with the possibility of more beautiful fonts. We’ll see.
A few years ago, a parishioner of mine was baptized on the eve of Palm Sunday, the Saturday before Holy Week. Though I am a Lutheran pastor, I was raised Greek Orthodox, and so I continue to think of the eve of Palm Sunday as the “Saturday of Lazarus.” This fits with the record of St. John’s Gospel, which places the resurrection of Lazarus immediately before the triumphal entry. Indeed, according to St. John, the reason for the adulating crowds was the great miracle just performed in Bethany.
Our hymnals, however, lack any appropriate hymns for the resurrection of Lazarus. I therefore took the opportunity to write a hymn for the occasion. I drew the themes and most of the actual language from the Greek Orthodox Apolytikion and Kontakion for the Saturday of Lazarus, reproduced here courtesy of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America website:
By raising Lazarus from the dead before Your Passion, You confirmed the universal resurrection, O Christ God! Like the children with palms of victory, We cry out to You, O Vanquisher of Death; Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He that comes in the name of the Lord!
Christ—the Joy, the Truth, and the Light of All, the Life of the World and the Resurrection—has appeared in his goodness to those on earth. He has become the Image of our resurrection, granting divine forgiveness to all.
My hymn is composed of three stanzas, the first and third based on the Apolytikion, the second on the Kontakion. It is rendered in the style of the Lutheran chorale, however, following the very common Reformation-era meter 8.7. 8.7. 8.8.7. The tune that I chose is “Es ist gewisslich,” which we associate most closely with the hymn of the Final Judgment, “The Day Is Surely Drawing Near,” itself based on the medieval hymn “Dies Irae.” Though it did not enter explicitly into my thinking, I suspect the connection of Lazarus’s resurrection to the general resurrection on the Last Day played at least subconsciously into my choice of tune.
Since this is a new composition and not a part of the genuine corpus of Lutheran chorales, I will not include it in the main website. It has been requested of me, however, that I make the hymn generally available, so I offer it here as a blog post. May the Lord Jesus, who is the Resurrection and the Life, be glorified thereby.
By raising Laz’rus from the dead Ere Thou began Thy Passion, Thou didst, O Lord, remove our dread Of death in glorious fashion, For in his life a glimpse we see Of wonders in eternity: All likewise shall awaken.
Thou art, O Christ, the Life of all, Thou art the Resurrection. The blessèd dead shall heed Thy call And rise unto perfection. Thou who called Laz’rus from the grave Thyself didst rise, the world to save, Granting divine forgiveness.
And so we raise victorious palms With praise none shall extinguish, And cry to Thee with hymns and psalms, Who death for us didst vanquish: “Hosanna in the highest heav’n! All blessing now to Him be giv’n Who in the Lord’s name cometh!”
500 years ago this day, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther, Augustinian friar, District Vicar of the Reform Congregation of Augustinian Hermits in Meissen and Thuringia, Doctor of Sacred Theology and lecturer on Holy Scripture at the University of Wittenberg, preacher, priest, and pastor, nailed the 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church, the Church of All Saints, in Wittenberg. The purpose of the Theses was to engender debate and, it was to be hoped, to bring about genuine reform of the preaching of indulgences. Luther thus entered into a grand tradition of monastics who called their Mother Church to repentance, striving to bring her into conformity with her own laws and with the Law of God. But in the judgment of Rome, Luther’s criticism went too far. Instead of receiving his correction or allowing his teaching to continue as a school of thought within the Roman fold, Luther’s enemies demanded that he simply recant, with no argument, no debate, and certainly no correction of abuses. This Luther could not do for fear of offending the God whose Scriptures he was sworn to teach. Thus Pope Leo X excommunicated Luther and severed from the fellowship of Rome all who, like Luther, upheld the teachings of the Scriptures and Church Fathers that Luther had once again brought to light. The Lutheran Church, as a consciously distinct entity within broader Christendom, was born.
I find this sobering not because of the division that Pope Leo X and his adherents wrought, nor because I lament the fact that the Reformation had to happen. It is sobering because, as much as we might be drawing attention to the significance of this anniversary, our own sense of celebration and thanksgiving pales utterly in comparison with that of past generations.
Already in Luther’s lifetime the significance of October 31st, 1517, was acknowledged and commemorated. Robin Leaver records in his recent book The Whole Church Sings: Congregational Singing in Luther’s Wittenberg the signature of a letter written by Luther to Nicolas Amsdorf, dated October 31st, 1527: “Written at Wittenberg on the Day of All Saints [which liturgically begins on the evening of October 31st], in the tenth year after the indulgences had been trampled underfoot, in memory of which we are drinking at this hour.” Later generations would do far more than drink in memory of the posting of the 95 Theses. At the centenary in 1617, Reformation Day was celebrated as a major feast, on the order of Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. The celebration thus began with Vespers on October 30th, continued with Mass and Vespers on October 31st and November 1st, and finally concluded with Mass on November 2nd. The best talent that the world at that time had to offer was commissioned to produce and perform elaborate and majestic settings of the Mass itself, psalms, and Lutheran hymns. The celebrations were no less widespread and jubilant a century later, when the bicentenary of 1717 was observed with preaching, prayer, and praise throughout Germany, once again as a three-day feast. The following video gives an idea of the passion that went into such celebrations.
Where are we now? Yes, we have festivals. We publish books, produce films, and hold extra services. But as I consider my own community, I am struck at how our celebration of this most significant occasion is proceeding more or less under the radar. We live in a culture that feels itself virtually unaffected by the Reformation, by the work that cost Luther and so many of his followers so dear. The apathy, of course, extends far beyond Reformation Day. How many of our churches celebrate Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost for three days each with lavish services morning and evening, joyously attended by the entire community?
The old prayer for the Festival of the Reformation includes the acknowledgment and confession, “in sincere repentance, that by our manifold sins, ingratitude, indifference, and unbelief we have, indeed, deserved that Thou mightest justly hide Thy face from us and visit us with a famine of Thy Word.” Heaven forbid. “But we beseech Thee, O Lord, deal with us, not after our sins, but according to Thine infinite compassion. Let not the gates of hell prevail against Thy Church.”
May the 1000th Jubilee of the Reformation, October 31st, 2517, if Our Lord should tarry so long, find a Church ready to rival her fathers in fervor and zeal, faith and love, praise and adoration.
Following the success of last year’s German Christmas Service at Holy Cross Lutheran Church of Davenport, we’re looking forward to hosting another one this year. The service is scheduled to take place tomorrow, Sunday, December 14, at 4 PM. The Rev. John Preus of Trinity Lutheran Church in Clinton, Iowa, is scheduled to preach.
“Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.” So opens Isaiah 40:1–11, the Old Testament lesson used by many congregations of the Missouri Synod this past Sunday, the second in Advent. For those using the historic lectionary, the same lesson will be heard this coming Sunday. And what more fitting to accompany such a lesson than Johann Olearius‘s hymn, “Comfort, Comfort Ye My People” (“Tröstet, tröstet meine Lieben“)?
In point of fact, “Comfort, Comfort Ye My People” was not written as an Advent hymn. Olearius prepared it for inclusion in his hymnal Geistliche Singe-Kunst, Leipzig, 1671. This resource introduced many new hymns by Olearius, hymns that tended to be brief but carefully constructed. They were meant to provide something to sing for those days in the Church Year that had not already had a large body of hymnody devoted to them. “Comfort, Comfort Ye My People” was written for the Feast of St. John the Baptist on June 24. The first lesson for that day was Isaiah 40:1–5, of which Olearius’s hymn is a paraphrase, and a skillful one at that, even in Catherine Winkworth’s masterful translation.
Stanzas 1 and 2 make clear the source of the comfort and peace which God speaks to His people: the forgiveness of their sins. “Tell her that her sins I cover,” says God to His preachers. With the forgiveness of sins comes the conversion of “pining sadness” into “ever-springing gladness.” Stanza 3 introduces John the Baptist, the “herald” who is “bidding all men to repentance,” as well as the motif of leveling: “Let the valleys rise to meet Him / And the hills bow down to greet Him.” Olearius’s wording suggests that God is speaking here not primarily of topography, but of the hearts of men. The haughty are to be made humble, bowing before God, and the humble are to be exalted, standing confident in His presence. This application is made more explicit in the fourth stanza, where the straight and the plain are interpreted as “hearts” made “true and humble,” though Olearius’s German speaks more in terms of a humble mode of living. In the end, the message of comfort through the coming of God’s kingdom in Christ will be made manifest to the entire world, as “all flesh shall see the token / That His Word is never broken.”
The tune is known in Lutheran hymnody by the name “Freu dich sehr,” for the text “Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele.” The tune originated in the Genevan Psalter as the melody for the metrical version of Psalm 42, but among English-speaking Lutherans, the tune is now most closely associated with Olearius’s hymn.
Though not originally intended for Advent, “Comfort, Comfort Ye My People” surely embodies both the penitence and the joyful anticipation so characteristic of that season. John the Baptist, after all, figures prominently in the Advent observance, and his entire preaching was a testimony to Christ. Though Christ is not mentioned by name in the hymn, the fulfillment of Isaiah 40 in the preaching of John the Baptists reveals that Christ Jesus, the Lamb of God who by His sacrifice takes away the sin of the world, is the one who brings comfort to Jerusalem and to the world.
May Olearius’s hymn, and the prophecy on which it is based, bring comfort to your household this Advent season.
The Gospel Lesson for the First Sunday in Advent, whether you’re using the historic Western lectionary or the new three-year lectionary developed by the modern Roman Catholic Church, is the Triumphal Entry of our Lord Jesus Christ into Jerusalem. It is in view of this Gospel Lesson that Paul Gerhardt wrote his Advent hymn “O Lord, How Shall I Meet Thee” (“Wie soll ich dich empfangen“).
From John Julian, A Dictionary of Hymnology, vol. 2, p. 1280:
First published in the Crüger-Runge G.B., 1653, No. 77 [actually No. 83], in 10 stanzas of 8 lines.… It is founded on Matthew 21:1–9, the Gospel for the first Sunday in Advent. The allusions in stanzas 6–9 would suggest that it was written during the Thirty Years’ War. It is one of Gerhardt’s finest productions, and is probably the best German Advent hymn.
This hymn is a fine example of the salutary subjectivity that characterizes so many Lutheran hymns of the seventeenth century. Stanza 1 attends to the state of the singer’s heart, which he prays will be prepared to receive the Christ at His Advent, both now in His Word, and on the Last Day in His glory. Stanza 2 features the imagery of the Triumphal Entry, but the rest of the hymn emphasizes the coming of the Christ into the flesh, and thereafter through the means of grace, to redeem His creatures from sin and death. Stanzas 9 and 10 turn to the final Advent of the Christ on the Last Day, when He will come “to judge the nations, / A terror to His foes,” but “A Light of consolations / And blessed hope to those / Who love the Lord’s appearing.”
Gerhardt’s hymn appears in The Lutheran Hymnal, 1941, No. 58, where it is missing stanza 3. It also appears in the Lutheran Service Book, 2006, No. 334, where it is also missing stanzas 6, 7, and 9. The version at the Free Lutheran Chorale-Book includes all ten stanzas, restoring stanza 3 as found in the Evangelical Lutheran Hymn-Book, 1930, No. 136.
A beautiful recording of stanzas 1, 2, and 4, sung in German by the Bach-Chor Siegen under the direction of Ulrich Stötzel, appears as the opening track on the album Paul Gerhardt: Die schönsten Choräle, available on iTunes and Amazon. And here is a video of a performance of those same stanzas, also in German:
This Advent season and always, may we all receive our Savior aright unto our eternal blessing!
About the Featured Image
The Paul Gerhardt Memorial, situated before the Paul-Gerhardt-Kirche, stands in the town of Lübben, where Gerhardt served from 1668 until his death in 1676. Photo: Andreas Praefcke (Own work (own photograph)) [CC-BY-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons.
As we in the United States of America join in our National Day of Thanksgiving, my thoughts turn to those early European settlers in the New World, who gave humble and hearty thanks after the extreme sufferings of a harsh winter and a devastating famine. In the midst of our plenty, we tend to be less thankful to our God in Christ than were those poor souls who had lost so much.
I am also put in mind of the hymn with which my congregation concluded this year’s Thanksgiving Eve celebration: Martin Rinckart’s “Now Thank We All Our God” (“Nun danket alle Gott“). Rinckart himself may seem not to have had much for which to be thankful. Like those Plymouth Pilgrims, he had suffered profoundly. Serving as pastor (archdeacon) of Eilenburg during the worst of the Thirty Years’ War, which brought with it not only wanton destruction but also the horrors of plague, Rinckart buried literally thousands of his parishioners, including, in 1637, his own wife. And yet this embattled clergyman produced one of the most jubilant hymns of thanksgiving ever penned.
Martin Rinckart (1586–1649)
Rinckart patterned his thanksgiving hymn, originally intended as a table prayer, after a selection of verses from the Apocrypha, which, while not received as inspired Scripture among the Lutherans, continued to be read and held in esteem among them for centuries. The verses in question are Sirach 50:22–24, “Now therefore bless ye the God of all, which only doeth wondrous things every where, which exalteth our days from the womb, and dealeth with us according to his mercy. He grant us joyfulness of heart, and that peace may be in our days in Israel for ever: That he would confirm his mercy with us, and deliver us at his time!” In fact, this passage served as the text from which the chaplains preached in thanksgiving at the conclusion of the Peace of Westphalia in 1648. It may be in connection with this joyous occasion that Rinckart wrote his hymn.
May Rinckart’s words, and Johann Crüger’s glorious melody, truly embody our spirit of thankfulness toward our gracious God in Christ.
I’d really like to take a whole lot more time on this before putting it up here, but time is what I don’t have, and I’d love some feedback if anyone gets a chance to use it for Reformation Day this year. This is sheet music for Johannes Eccard’s SATTB setting of “Ein feste Burg,” with the lyrics for the first stanza from The Lutheran Hymnal. Eventually I’d like to upload sheet music for each stanza, but until then, you can just have your choir pencil in the lyrics of the stanza they’re going to sing. This is in the same key as the setting in TLH and LSB, so you can have choir and congregation go back and forth. Let me know what you think!