"How Can I Keep From Singing?"
A Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Hilary J. Barrett
Preached at Pleasantville United Church of Christ, July 12, 2009
Psalm 24, Ephesians 1:3-14

“Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything,
 in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Ephesians 5:19-20

My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation
I hear the sweet though far off hymn
That hails a new creation:
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?

My good friend and colleague, the Rev. Daniel Moser, buried his Mama a couple weeks ago.  He chose three good hymns for her service, opening with, “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” setting as the middle hymn, “In the Bulb There is a Flower,” and in case no one had cried enough by that time, we finished with “I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry.”

I was standing towards the rear of the sanctuary with a few of Dan’s other friends – one of whom is an opera singer, a baritone by the name Ed Barra.  Ed has a voice as big as God’s and no matter how softly he sings, you can hear his clear strong tones soaring above all the rest of us.

There’s a line in one of those hymns, “In the Bulb There is a Flower,” and it goes like this:

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

Well when Ed with a voice as big as God’s got to that line, “In our death, a resurrection” that’s when he really cut loose and let his real voice out, and it slayed half the people in the sanctuary that day – including Dan.  He started crying like a baby – which is pretty much what’s supposed to happen at a funeral, especially when it’s your mama’s.

A few days later, when Dan and I were talking about the service, I mentioned how powerful it was to hear Ed’s voice soaring above all the others proclaiming our resurrection hope and the promise of victory, and Dan started blubbering all over again.  That’s all it took – even the memory of the music was enough to open the floodgates.  Music can be a mighty powerful thing.

One of the writers that I enjoy most is a woman by the name of Anne Lamotte.  She lives out in the San Francisco Bay Area and has a son named Sam, with big brown eyes, born about the same time as my son named Sam, with big brown eyes.  She writes memoir; stories that speak with power, irreverence, and humor about her own brokenness and how Jesus rescued her from a life of addiction and misery.  She credits the people of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Marin City and a pastor by the name of Veronica for much of her recovery and conversion.  By all accounts it’s a tiny little church and not much to look at.

One of her stories tells about how she first came to know the people of St. Andrew’s church.  One day she heard the sounds of gospel music spilling out of its little doors and windows and the sound forced her to stop and listen.  She heard the words of gospel songs she had not heard since her childhood.  Week after week she would come back, stand outside the doors of the church and listen.  After many weeks she got up the courage to move to the doorway and listen to the songs.  At the time, the choir of St. Andrews consisted of five black women and one white man, but together these six were making glorious music.  The congregation of 30 or so seemed to radiate kindness and warmth.  She began to go back about once a month, always slipping out before the sermon.  She grew to love many things about the church – their care for one another, their community mission program, the way they welcomed strangers.  But she writes, “It was the singing that pulled me in and split me wide open.”  Eventually, she got the courage to walk inside, sit in the back, and let the singing envelop her.  That music, she said, was breath and food.  She writes:

Something inside me that was stiff and rotting would feel soft and tender.  Somehow the singing wore down all the boundaries and distinctions that kept me so isolated.  Sitting there, standing with them to sing, sometimes so shaky and sick that I felt like I might tip over, I felt bigger than myself, like I was being taken care of, tricked into coming back to life.

This morning we’re talking about music -- how it has the potential to ‘soothe the savage beast’ inside all of us.  How it has the power to ‘split us wide open.’  How it can ‘wear down all the things that keep us isolated and apart from one another.’  How it can ‘trick us into coming back to life.’

For the past four weeks in worship we’ve included something new: this thing that Debbie has named, “Hide ‘Em in Your Heart Hymns.”  It has been a blessing to hear from one another how particular hymns have touched your life.  We heard from David Lachman that, though there are many hymns that touch his heart, it was “How Great Thou Art” that spoke the loudest.  We heard from Leanna Fox that “In the Garden” connected her to memories of her great-grandmother.  We heard from Lisa Baxter that “Be Still My Soul” gave her peace during a time of trial.  And this morning we heard from Jen Fielding that…

As for me, when I returned to worship after my injury and subsequent surgery, I shared with you how important the hymn, “Ancient Words” was for me when I sat waiting in the Emergency Room in shock and in pain.

Several of you have expressed to me how meaningful the ‘Hide ‘Em in Your Heart’ hymns have been.  It makes such a difference to hear these wonderful witnesses of faith from one another.  I sing differently when I know how much a hymn means to you.  You sing differently too.  I don’t think it is simply my imagination.  You sing differently after you’ve heard someone share.  You sing more reverently, more consciously, more compellingly after you have heard one of your brothers or sisters in the faith say, “This is my favorite hymn because it speaks to my heart in this way… or it saved my life in this way…”

And that’s the purpose of hymn singing really.  Hymn singing is of course to glorify God, but it is also to strengthen one another.  The purpose of hymn singing is to teach us – through words set to music – the things we will need to know to get through this life; things that will help us.  So that when you are lying on a gurney in the hallway outside an operating room, waiting for your life to change, these words may come to you:

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Congregational hymn singing is a spiritual discipline.  We sing whether we feel like it or not.  We sing, whether we are good singers or not.  One of the beauties of a well-conceived sacred space is that it allows our voices go up into the air, mix together with one another’s, and come back down to us sounding far better than any one of us could sound alone.  Sound engineers call this “acoustics.”  People of faith call it a miracle.  We experience this acoustical miracle very well in the space up front here in the Sanctuary.  Just look up at the ceiling and notice its shape and you will see how that wonderful sound is created.  Those of you who routinely sit in the back might want to come forward sometime and hear the difference.  There in the back, the sound does not have far to go before it hits the ceiling and bounces right back down upon us, sometimes scaring us with the sound of our own voice.  Here’s a tip for those who don’t particularly like to hear the sound of your own voice: sit up front!  It’s a whole different singing experience.

This morning on the inside of your bulletin cover, you will find John Wesley’s directions to his congregation in 1761.  John Wesley was an Anglican cleric and Christiantheologian, who, along with his brother Charles Wesley, was largely credited with founding the Methodist movement.  If you think I’m bossy, just take a look at him.  He tells them not only what to sing but how to sing it.  He tells them to sing even if they aren’t very good at singing, but not to sing in such a fashion as destroys the harmony.  Debbie and I come off looking pretty good here, I think.

But besides the humor to be found in a look back at these instructions, there’s real wisdom in Wesley’s words and that’s why they’re here for you to ponder today.  Take a look at them with me:

Learn these tunes before you learn any others; afterwards learn as many as you please.  (It seems to me that is what we are doing with the Hide ‘Em in Your Heart Hymns)

Sing all.  See that you join with the congregation as frequently as you can.  Let not a slight degree of weakness or weariness hinder you.  If it is a cross to you, take it up, and you will find it a blessing.

VII.      Above all sing spiritually.  Have an eye to God in every word you sing. 

These opening verses of the Letter to the Ephesians are considered a canticle or a hymn in the liturgy of the church.  It is a hymn of thanksgiving and praise to God for the blessings bestowed upon us through his beloved Son, Jesus Christ.  By the blood of Christ, we have been reconciled to God, made holy in his sight, and granted the grace of becoming brothers and sisters of one holy family.  Ephesians contains more hymns and liturgical material than any other letter.  Paul must have believed in the power of congregational hymn singing too, because a little later in Ephesians he says:

“Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything,
 in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Ephesians 5:19-20

“Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.”  When we sing congregational hymns, that’s exactly what we are trying to do.

Why is all this important.  Because worship is not a spectator sport.  We sing not for ourselves alone but to the glory of God and for the benefit of our neighbor.  Because, you see, our neighbor may very much need to hear our voice this day.  They may have just barely made it here this morning.  There may be things weighing upon their heart so great that they will be unburdened only by the sound of your voice reaching towards heaven.  We sing to give glory to God, and yes, it matters if you don’t.

John Wesley says: See that you join with the congregation as frequently as you can.  Let not a slight degree of weakness or weariness hinder you.  If it is a cross to you, take it up, and you will find it a blessing.

It is not such a bad thing to take up our cross if it means strengthening another.  The sound of a congregation singing hymns of faith with conviction can literally transform the human heart.  It has the power to ‘split us wide open.’  It can ‘wear down all the things that keep us isolated and apart from one another.’  It can ‘trick us into coming back to life.’  It has for me.  I hope it will for you too.

May it be so.  Amen.