Hebert Howells’ output of choral and organ music is quite significant, but he did not focus on writing substantial amounts of church music until well into the 1930’s. In 1935 he was deeply affected by the death of his son Michael, who contracted polio and died at the age of nine. As someone who will never be a parent, I won’t ever know the pain of losing a child. But death can be a powerful life-changer. I’ve seen people become bitter and fearful of it, I’ve seen others totally ignore it, and I’ve seen major character shifts in others. For those who get the message, it awakens new appreciation for life itself. It’s a revelation of something very deep and meaningful. In Howells’ case, I think his son Michael’s death connected him to a source of inspiration that makes his music much deeper than composers who have not yet been able to access that awesome dimension of meaning.

.  

The hole which remains, after loved ones die, can seem like a void or an emptiness. But it’s not, it’s spaciousness. That spaciousness is the room in your heart where you find the fullness of God. It’s all in nonphysical form, but has a very different quality than emptiness. Artists are often deeply affected by life’s tragic experiences. As much as we dislike loss, there is something more profound to gain from it. Howells’ music speaks to my soul, the feeling it creates is like that spaciousness that I’m talking about. Howell’s music has a haunting quality to it, while simultaneously offering comfort – a spiritual kind of satiety. The open-sounding chords that he uses meander towards harmonic tension, but Howells has a gentle way of leading the ear back home, by resolving that tension in the most satisfying and soothing ways. It’s the perfect illustration of the drifting soul returning to the full, spacious nature of God.

I think that part of what makes losing a child so hard is that children haven’t had much of a chance to drift from their source. They are fresh from the well, so to speak. As we age, we drift. But on the opposite end of all that drifting is returning to the source – death itself. Birth and death are two sides of the same room. A newborn is as fresh from the heart of God, as a dying person is inches away from seeing His face. Isn’t that a beautiful way to see it?

A Course in Miracles says, “Find death before death finds you.” That means to find God before God needs to find you. Satiety and fulfillment have only one source, Thee Source. When we experience difficult situations like loss, new and deeper measures of human existence come into existence. That is what spiritual revelation is, broader ways of understanding. Those entry points to God create new room (spaciousness) for expression, that ultimately lead to more compassion, more kindness, and more love. For some it does the opposite, unfortunately. The drifters become hardened and fearful.

Struggle softens the rough edges. Death calls us home. Getting knocked off of your perch, getting pushed out of your comfort zone, and nice, big portions of humble pie – all of it is a beautiful return to the source, holy and low. Here’s the key, you don’t need hard knocks to push you towards the crystal of peace. That exists within. When life feels empty, or if you’re a bit crispy around the edges, take a moment to come back to the spaciousness, the perpetual rest in God. You don’t need struggle, death or loss to show you your source. Listen carefully to this music, it might help point you back home.  Soli deo Gloria!