Something to think about. . .

Brahms was famously German, a composer and pianist of the Romantic period, and a master of blending Classical form with Romantic expressivity.  What is less well known or appreciated is that Brahms was Lutheran -- one of many Lutherans across the span of musical ages and genres.  So when you look at a sacred work by Brahms, you have a glimpse into his theology, if you will.  Perhaps the most profound insight is expressed in his German Requiem, a work that is a radical departure from the traditional requiem form but instantly traditional in its Biblical expression.  One of the parts of that Requiem that I have always enjoyed is part IV, How Lovely Is Thy Dwellingplace."

The Requiem was Brahm's longest work and the first to bring him international renown.  The name A German Requiem signals that it is a departure from the traditional requiem form of the Mass.  This was not written for the dead but to bring comfort and solace and hope to the living.  All who suffer with death and loss are given something in this work.   He chose and coordinated quotations from the Old and New Testaments (as well as from the Apocrypha) in place of original texts.  The work had not yet come to form in the mind of Brahms when he was confronted with the death of his own mother without having the opportunity to visit before her passing.  His grief and depression following her loss stayed with him for a very long time.  Perhaps Brahms was addressing his own pain first of all.
       
Over the next two years, the Requiem took shape and in December 1867, the first three movements were performed in Vienna.  It was not finished but it was now clearer in Brahms' mind.  In the following year, a full performance of the Requiem was given on Good Friday at the Bremen Cathedral.  His father was among the attendees and witnessed a resounding success that instantly made the 35-year-old composer one of the most prominent musical figures in Germany.  It did not take long before people heard it over and over again in Germany, London, Paris, etc., everyone acclaiming it as a masterwork.
       
The fourth movement in the Requiem (“How lovely is Thy dwelling place”) is perhaps the sweetest and most stunning choral work of the piece and of the whole catalog of Brahms' music.  It is my own personal favorite and the favorite of many.  It is slow as it unfolds with the soprano voice singing the melody in a text both direct and personal. 

How lovely is thy dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!
For my soul, it longeth, yea fainteth, for the courts of the Lord :
my soul and body crieth out, yea for the living God.
Blest are they, that dwell within Thy house : they praise Thy name evermore.  Psalm 84 vv. 1, 2, 4.

While this is a work not simply about art and architecture, it is not about an imagined place or one that exists only in memory.  The beauty and loveliness of the Lord's dwelling place has a physical presence and within the brick, stone, steel, wood, and glass lives the people of God, gathered around the Word and Table of the Lord.  I wonder if people entering in some of the brutal, crude, and bare structures that claim to be God's House would be moved as was the Psalmist and Brahms to laud its loveliness or beauty today?  I seriously doubt it.  Whether it is ugly or simply predictably pedestrian in its shape or form, we have over time given less and less thought to the role of beauty in worship.  Some have gone so far as to suggest that the beautiful images within and the noble forms of the buildings themselves compete or even work against what happens in the mystery of worship within the House of God.  What fools we are!  We have turned God's beauty or loveliness into something not for the eye but for the mind.  This cerebral Christianity which provides a rather neutral surrounding for the liturgy is a modern invention and seems entirely out of step with Scripture or history.  There’s something to be said for this perspective. Beauty attracts and invites. Ugliness repels. It is as true of religion as it is of modern art which fails to invite and embrace in its stark statement of what is base or unrecognizable in the human experience.  Churches ought to be held to a higher standard.  If anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

By example let me simply point to the many older structures which are stripped of their status as the principal cathedral or church only to be replaced by what is bland, blunt, and ugly.  I think of the old St. Louis Cathedral or the difference between the old Los Angeles Cathedral and its replacement or the many Lutheran parishes in which the sanctuary was replaced with a warehouse style worship center.  It is no wonder the people have trouble seeing the beauty when the surroundings work so effectively against what the Psalmist and Brahms expected of God's House.  It is, after all, what we ought to expect as well.  Beauty and holiness and loveliness in service to the Gospel is good, right, and salutary.  I only hope that we wake up one day to remember that.