From the Archives: Homily on the Te Deum Laudamus
The reredos of Historic Trinity Lutheran in Detroit, MI. The reredos, dating from the early twentieth century, is a visual depiction of the Te Deum. The “glorious company of the apostles” are painted directly above the mensa, above them the “goodly fellowship of the prophets,” and the carvings at the top of the reredos depict the “noble army of martyrs,” specifically the ten apostle-martyrs holding the instruments of their martyrdom. At the center is Christ as the “King of Glory.”
The following homily was delivered by the Rev. Professor Jeffrey Gibbs on 11 November 1993 at the Chapel of Ss. Timothy and Titus of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, Missouri. It was published in Gottesdienst Volume II, No. 4, Saint Michael and All Angels, 1994.
Homily on the Te Deum Laudamus
The Te Deum is old. It is an old, old hymn. Although the two traditional guesses at authorship — St. Ambrose and St. Augustine—are apparently not well-founded, the hymn is almost as old as their day. Mid-fifth century, the scholars tell us. For forty generations and more, if forty years be a generation, the church has been singing, most often in the morning, this song of praise in its various renderings, and under its various musical settings. It is an old, old song.
Why has it survived? Two reasons, one can suppose. First, it faithfully reflects the meaning and message of writings even older than itself, namely, the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. This would be the unchanging reason why the Te Deum still is sung, long after its authors are dead and gone, long after the ones who wrote it are “a’mouldering in the grave.” The message of the Scripture does not change. Neither does the Scriptural message of the Te Deum.
The second reason why the Te Deum has been the church’s own throughout the centuries is linked to something that does change, in a sense, with the passage of time. Although human need is fundamentally the same throughout history—the need for God to deal with sin—the unique ways we perceive our needs does shift, as countries wax and wane, as cultures rise and fall, as paradigms shift, bend, break, and are discarded for different ways of envisioning our existence under God, in Christ, in a world that is still far too “fallen.” The fundamental needs of the church remain the same; but in each generation, there is a modern “application,” a modern “expression.” So the Te Deum has survived and flourished because its unchanging message has continued to speak to the shifting needs of God’s people. An old, old song. Ever able to be sung anew. An old song. A new song. Our song.
Yes, also in this generation, the Te Deum is our song. For it speaks to our modern needs, our western ways of understanding the effects of sin, and the temptations to which we, as God’s people now and in this place, are subject. What are the needs to which the words of this old song can speak afresh?
How about this one? My voice is too small. It is only I who am singing. I am alone. The individualization and fragmentation of our society has bred, I think, an epidemic of isolation, of loneliness, a soil in which the devil’s lie can spring up and grow and say to you—You are alone. You are so small. And it is only your voice that is singing.
You are alone, with your responsibilities, with your fears. Alone in your study room, alone with your discouragement. Alone in your office at the church, with the problems that didn’t change from last week and the things to which you didn’t get and the heavy, heavy weight of the needs of God’s people threatening to crush the breath from your body. How can I sing? How can I praise? No one is here but I. It is so easy to feel hung out to dry and all alone.
The old, old song says, No! No! Your song is not just your song. You are God — we praise you. We acclaim you! There are others. Your song is not a solo, or a duet, or anything close. Don’t let the cacophony of Satan’s lies and the clamor of his deceit drown out the great chorus! Listen—all creation worships you! To you, all angels, all the powers of heaven, cherubim and seraphim, holy and burning, fiery ones sing in endless praise—Holy! Holy! Holy! Adonai of Hosts!
To the voices of creation and the holy angels are joined other voices, more like unto yours. Human voices. The glorious company of the apostles praise you. The noble fellowship of the prophets—they praise you. The white robed army of martyrs praise you. And now, even as you sing—throughout the world, the holy church acclaims you. Your praise of God will not be stilled. You are not alone. The praise of Father, of majesty unbounded, His only Son, and the Holy Spirit goes on, as it was in the beginning, as it is now, as it ever shall be. To feel alone, and unable to sing the Lord’s song, this song—it is a lie. You are not alone. Your voice is small; but you are part of the chorus, the unending hymn.
But I can’t get it all done. I just can’t do it. It’s too much. They all think that theirs is the only class I’m taking. My kids are growing up, and their needs are changing so fast I sometimes don’t even know what their needs are. I’ve worked like a dog, and there are calls unmade, promises unkept, intentions unfulfilled. And I haven’t even really done my best. I don’t seem to be able to do my best. There’s always laziness, always doubt, always reluctance pulling me away from what needs to be done. There are no normal weeks in the life of a parish pastor. It never gets done. The needs are unending. I can’t get it done.
Yes. That’s right. Even at your best, you won’t ever get it done. That’s why we sing this song. The Triune God is the One who gets it done, once and for all. In the Person who became man for us. Listen to the old song–“You, Christ, are the king of glory. You became man, to set us free. You did not spurn the virgin’s womb. You overcame the sting of death. You opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. You are seated at God’s right hand. You will come to be our judge.” Look—it is not your inability in view. It is Christ’s ability. What counts is not your or I. It is He and what He has done. That is why we can sing.
Come, then, Lord, and help your people. Help your servant, Ambrose of Milan, in his combat against the Arians. Help your servant, Augustine of Hippo, in his fight with the Pelagians. Bought with the price of your own blood? Yes, come, then, Lord, and help your servants Thomas and Martin and Johann and Jonathan and Charles and Francis and on and on and on. And come and help us. Bought with your own blood. Help us, and teach us that our voices, though small, are not alone. Enable us to sing with the whole chorus on earth and heaven the song of your praise. Come, now, Lord. Help us, and teach us again, that it is you who have done it, your mighty hand and outstretched arm that have gotten the victory. Teach us to sing anew the old song, O Lord. Teach us—we rise and sing the Te Deum Laudamus!