Just over two years ago Sufjan Stevens released Carrie & Lowell, his seventh LP. The album is a consequence of the death of his mother three years earlier, a profound meditation on sorrow, despair, childhood, parenthood and death.

This album has served me as a great aid in prayer and meditation. In a moving way, it has helped me contemplate Jesus, his mother, the apostles and his sacrifice on the cross. Stevens’ folky arrangements and melancholic voice have moved me in prayer far more than books made specifically for prayer.

This is a work of music that weaves personal memories with the sorrow and godforsakenness of death and sin. This in turn weaves in with the contemplation of God’s love for each of us, a love that is more steadfast than that of all the mothers and fathers of the world for their children.

It opens with the words ‘Spirit of my silence I can hear you, but I’m afraid to be near you, and I don’t know where to begin.’ What a fitting opening to prayer. How often do I not find myself dreading that moment of silence in the presence of the Lord, not knowing how to begin. Verses sing of desert and forest to the sound of a bittersweet arpeggio. I picture Our Lord walking in the desert, hiking Palestinian trails with his friends. Sufjan sings about losing himself completely and pleads ‘be near me, tired old mare.’ Thus I picture him snuggling up to his mother after a long day of work, or thinking of her as he lies down to sleep below deck on Peter’s boat.

After Death With Dignity, Sufjan sings about personal memories and demons. His shortcomings and regrets. In listening to his stumbles, I am reminded of my own sins. My own stupid little life and what comes of it when I try to keep it for myself. I steep my guilt in verses like ‘be my rest, be my fantasy’ and ‘all of me wants all of you’ and foster a desire for reconciliation.

Two tracks later, we come to the first pivotal song that makes this work a great prayer companion. Drawn to the Blood is especially relevant to meditating on the betrayals that Our Lord endured. It moves me to consider his journey toward utter godforsakenness on the cross.

An urgent, pulsing rhythm frames the piece. It speaks verses that cry out in despair against betrayal and abandonment. ‘How did this happen, for my prayer has always been love?’. I see the weight of my sin on the cross that weighs on his tattered back through the streets of Jerusalem. I hear the words of Pilate: ‘Ecce homo!’ and I hear the voices of his beloved people clamoring for his crucifixion. My voice is among them. My heart aches as I picture him on the cross, listening to the jeers of the pharisees and the impenitent thief. Sufjan’s stirring voice sings ‘…blood on my sleeve, Delilah, avenge my grief.’ This evokes how Delilah betrayed Samson for money. My mind comes to the betrayal of Judas, and Peter’s denials. And my own. It continues, ‘How, God of Elijah?’. This places me in front of the cross beside John, listening to our Lord’s ‘Eli eli lama sabachthani?’. The final verse echoes: ‘How did this happen?’. I rest my mind on John and Our Lady beside him. Both of them knew who he was and that he willed this for himself. They must have struggled to make sense of the most painful scene in the history of creation. As the song winds down, I can do no more than ask for their intercession for my poor little soul.

Ecce Homo, by Ciseri

The album takes a reprieve from despair in Eugene, a track peppered with moments from Sufjan’s childhood. Each stanza contrasts certain bitter memories with a longing for reconciliation. In the verse ‘I just want to be near you’ I echo my own longing for reconciliation with God. This two minute reprieve gives way to Fourth of July, which explores the moment of the death of Sufjan’s mother. A lament for all that goes unfulfilled in this short time in the world. Verses like ‘my little dove, why do you cry?’ and ‘we’re all going to die’ lead me to contemplate the disciples’ despair on the day of Jesus’ death and on the eve of his resurrection. I picture them weeping at the lap of Our Lady, and I weep too for the loss of my Lord, drying my tears on the skirt of her robe. I remember how in the face of the death of a friend, Christ himself wept; because death is a tragedy that we were not made for. These words remind me that I too will die, and invite me to renew my hope for eternal life.

Off this meditation on death, The Only Thing serves as a response. A hint at the only relief there is to our mortality: Christ’s victory over death. Allegories describe the only thing that keeps us from utter despair: ‘Slain medusa, pegasus alight from us all.” Indeed, Christ vanquished the monster that is death so that we may rise like winged horses from our tombs. ‘Faith in reason,’ ‘Signs and Wonders,’ he sings, ‘Blind faith,’ ‘God’s grace.’ References to the only thing that gives sense to hope, which is to share in his resurrection.

These verses lead my back to conversation with Jesus, to use Sufjan’s words and say to him ‘should I tear my heart out now? Everything I feel returns to you somehow.’ In meditation, I am still with him at the cross beside John. I can hear him weeping and I want my heart to break for Jesus like John’s. I imagine my Lord speaking to us, ‘I want to save you from your sorrows’ shortly before his words to the penitent thief.

What follows is the title track. A poetic resignation to the inevitability of the passage of time. I see it as a palate cleanser for the upcoming pair of songs that serve as a climax to the album: John my Beloved and No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross.

John my Beloved is my favorite track on the album. It presents a dialogue between a sinful man (you and I); John, the Lord’s beloved disciple; and Jesus himself. It opens with a recollection of personal sin followed by a melodious confession: ‘I am a man with a heart that offends with its lonely and greedy demands.’ In these words I share my own contrite heart. It follows with ‘in a manner of speaking I’m dead…’ Indeed, I have been dead to sin many times. I can’t linger on this reflection too long though, ‘I love you more than the world can contain in its lonely and ramshackle head’ echoes the same melody in the following stanza. I hear the voice of my Lord on the cross declaring his love for me, and my heart wells up like a balloon as I realize its enormity. I return to John who reclined on him as he taught that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. Soon the words come that stir up the omen of betrayal: ‘What can be said of my heart? If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek, where there remains but a mark. Beloved, my John, so I’ll carry on counting my cards down to one.’ I contemplate not only the kiss of Judas, but also St. John’s destiny. To see all his companions die martyrs. This left him alone to endure this vale of tears unto old age beside Our Mother.

The Taking of Christ, by Caravaggio

I pray along with this bittersweet track, noticing the word ‘fossils’ as an allegory for the memory of our burdensome past sins. So the verse ‘Jesus I need you, be near me, come shield me from fossils that fall on my head’ is a perfect petition to end this reflection on my relationship to Christ and his beloved apostle. John my Beloved ends with the sound of a deep inhalation which the following track, No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross will bookend.

This penultimate song opens with a verse that evokes the pietà, ‘now that I fell into your arms…’ I dive into contemplation of Our Lord’s death and its consequences: ‘Drag me to hell in the valley of The Dalles’ brings me to reflect on Christ’s descent into Sheol and the liberation of souls, his ultimate and unseen triumph over death and sin. Yet I am reminded of the long road ahead in this life of restless hearts. ‘There’s blood on that blade…’ sings the haunting chant, in my mind’s eye I see the spear that pierced his side. ‘…Fuck me, I’m falling apart,’ here I share the terror of a man who realizes the dismal graveness of his sin. The song concludes in a long lingering exhale that forms the image of Jesus breathing his last. I resolve once more never to pierce him with my sin again.

Blue Bucket of Gold, the final track, a sort of epilogue, is a reflection of the state of the soul after the King of kings has risen. A mediocre ambivalence toward the most unfathomably grand miracle of love permeates the world. This sacrifice was for you and I personally, yet still I take Him for granted often. I let the words ‘Friend, why don’t you love me?’ resound in my heart like the risen Jesus’ questions to Peter by the sea of Galilee surely resounded in his. ‘Raise your right hand…‘ ‘Tell me you want me in your life.’ This is what my heart should desire with every last beat. My every last breath should sing the glory of the Lamb slain for the love of man.

There are many more insights of spiritual importance throughout the album that are not mentioned here for the sake of brevity. I would invite you to listen to this beautifully crafted work of music for yourself. It is my hope that you would find your soul stirred up by the Holy Spirit’s graceful ability to permeate our world through such beautiful work. That your heart might be on fire for Christ like the disciples beside him on the road to Emaus.