On Friday, June 26, I will be singing in a regional performance of Considering Matthew Shepard, a contemporary oratorio by Craig Hella Johnson, remembering and reflecting upon the murder of 21-year-old Matthew Shepard in 1998.
The work intentionally mirrors traditional Passion settings, drawing on themes of hate, love, grief, forgiveness and a broken yet beautiful humanity. Audience and choir members are put into the metaphorical shoes of Matthew, his parents, his murderers and even the fence to which he was tied.
For a thorough movement-by-movement analysis of the piece, check out our assistant director's piece on the oratorio.
As you might've gathered by now, the piece is substantial, both in its musical beauty, interest and complexity and the themes, questions and stories that it tackles. But why am I singing it?
I grew up in a Protestant Christian home, attending Chandler Bible Church, where I was baptized as an infant, and then Center Church in Gilbert, AZ. At TCU, I was a faithful member of Chi Alpha campus ministries. My Christian faith walk led me to the Catholic Church, in which I was confirmed. I regularly attend mass at St. Patrick Cathedral in Fort Worth, TX.
Through it all, the foundation of my faith (the Gospel) has never changed. Many of my doctrinal beliefs have not either (what I believe the Bible teaches on how to be in the world but not of it).
The relevant piece of doctrine in this case is the Bible's teaching on homosexuality.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church (paragraph 2357) references Genesis 19:1-29, Romans 1:24-27, 1 Corinthians 6:10 and 1 Timothy 1:10 and calls homosexual acts "intrinsically disordered,” saying that "under no circumstances can they be approved." I believe the Bible to be clear and relevant about this.
That said, I believe that singing this work is not a departure or betrayal from these truths. It is in fulfillment of The Gospel Truth. In some way, I believe Johnson understood this.
In the score's forward, he writes that the oratorio is meant for choristers and audiences "to see ourselves in the lives of the protagonists and the perpetrators, and, perhaps most importantly, to recognize the presence of the divine in everyone."
We are all children of God.
One movement of the work is entitled "We Are All Sons." We share in the unique blessing of being image bearers. We share that divine image and humanness with the worst and best of these image bearers, the most Godly and the vilest sinners.
Quoting Dante, the choir sings, "Know we are the Love that moves The sun and all the stars, O Love that dwells, O Love that burns In every human heart."
In John 17, Jesus Himself prays that we all may dwell in Him in unity. The promise of the Gospel is for everyone who accepts Him and seeks to do as He commands. In that is a beautiful intersection of faith practices and lives lived all drawing closer to the unity for which Jesus prayed. All walks came to mourn and pray at the fence. I will join.
Matt was murdered. My brother, and one of God's children, was murdered. I cannot ignore that because it is difficult, and I cannot ignore that because his life looked different than mine.
I don't sing CMS as a protest, but as a prayer.
Even in darkness — actually, especially in darkness — God is present, and if we search for His light, we can learn to pray and praise in those times as well.
In one movement, we hear a portion of Matthew's father's testimony to the court. He speaks to his son not being alone. He had nature and he had God.
On this side of Heaven, I don't know what happened in the 18 hours he was tied to that fence, but I do know what God was doing. He was reaching out to His lost son — His lost and suffering son.
The oratorio mirrors a passion because Matthew's death was not dissimilar in nature to a crucifixion. For me, though, I don't compare him to our Savior, but the thieves crucified with Him. In all of his crying, praying and wondering, I hope Matthew found God like the the good thief did. I hope he repented and trusted that God's plan for his life and even his death was good. I hope he understood even better than I do why extraordinarily bad things happen to ordinary people.
One movement portrays Matt's soul as reaching out for some Divine connection.
I pray for Matt's soul, I pray for those hurting to find hope and comfort in Christ and I pray for the space between Earth and Heaven to be that much thinner as we recognize our shared heritage and internal dwelling of love.
I don’t know whom "Hell awaits," but I know God awaits us every day, and all it takes is our true faith and open arms surrender.
But what about how the oratorio portrays Christians who think like me?
In short, it's bad. The local Baptist church protested at the funeral. Hateful people said he deserved to die. No one deserves to die, and the Bible is very clear about the dignity of every human life.
They are not true Christians. They are just as lost as those they persecute. Instead of teaching the whole truth of the Bible (this includes what sin is and isn't and how to love), they teach an easier thing: hate.
On the other hand, I do not believe churches should affirm a homosexual lifestyle, but some do. We have yet to fully figure out how best to be loving without affirming.
Maybe we should be more like Ananias whom God sent to heal Saul's blindness in Acts 9. Ananias never affirmed Saul's persecuting of Christians, but he obeyed God to serve and love Saul even before his conversion. Then, Ananias baptized him as Paul. He loved Saul as a sinner and led him to new life by that love and by God's merciful will.
True Christianity has always been the minority. Look at the religious in the Bible. The Pharisees hated the imperfect, the persecuted apostles sought them out. Lord, let me be the latter. Let Russell and Aaron revel in the mercy they were shown and find their faith to grow to be the latter as well.
Their call was to crucify the sinful but they forgot they were sinful, too.
We are all sinners.
It just shows up in different ways for each person. For Matthew, it was homosexuality.
The Catechism states the clear Biblical view on homosexuality, but what I quoted above was not complete. In paragraph 2358, it reads, "They do not choose their homosexual condition; for most of them it is a trial. They must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided."
In one movement, the oratorio asks, "where has the innocence gone?" I say that it left long before Matt's murder. It left even before the first murder in history. It left at the fall. The fires of Hell burn for us all. That's why God sent Jesus, His only son, to save us poor sinners.
God does not turn His back on sinners. He runs to them as the father runs to his prodigal son. His people, me included, should seek to do the same. Yes, we should call out sin in our brothers and sisters, but as Paul does, we should recognize that we are the chief of sinners, first.
The Church is not a museum for saints. It is a hospital for sinners. Matt included. Me included.
For now, life goes on. People break themselves on the law of God just as falling breaks oneself on the law of gravity. The grieving, Wyoming nor the world will change because I sing this oratorio. But I, and I pray others, will be moved by a Godly sorrow to a Godly love for all His sinful children.
I sing Considering Matthew Shepard to praise God for His mercy and pray to God for His light.
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