1 Singing the Songs of the Soul Rev. John L. Saxon UU Fellowship of Raleigh June 13, 2010 I I like to sing. But I know I don t have a really beautiful singing voice. I m an OK singer. But I don t think I d make it through the auditions for American Idol, and if I did make it on to the show, I think I d get voted off pretty quick. But I really like to sing. And I can t imagine what my life would be like without music and singing. I made my official singing debut at the age of four when my mother took my brother and me down to the local TV station in Decatur, Alabama for a children s show. The year was 1955 and the TV series Davy Crockett, starring Fess Parker, was really popular. So my brother, who was three years old, and I sang the Davy Crockett theme song, wearing our coon skin caps and Davy Crockett T-shirts.
2 Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee greenest state in the land of the free. Raised in the woods so he knew every tree. Killed him a bar when he was only three. Davy. Davy Crockett. King of the wild frontier. And today, the words that my brother and I sang on TV are still traveling through outer space, millions of miles from earth, waiting to be heard by some not-so-human being who, though far more intelligent and wiser than we earthlings, might enjoy hearing the Ballad of Davy Crockett sung by two little kids from a small blue, brown, green, and white planet on the fringe of the Milky Way. When I was eight years old, I was supposed to sing O Holy Night as a solo at the Christmas eve service at the Methodist Church that my family attended. When the time came for me to sing, though, I
3 told my mother that I had a sore throat and couldn t sing. But the real truth was that I was too scared to sing in front of all those people. Over the years, though, I found my voice, both literally and metaphorically. As a teenager, I sang songs by the Beatles, the Stones, Simon and Garfunkle, and Bob Dylan. But I also sang The Old Rugged Cross and Just As I Am in the youth choir at church. Later I sang lullabies to my children as I put them to bed. And now I get to sing songs to my grandchildren and, sometimes, to the patients I visit as a hospital chaplain. And, this summer, I get to sing with all of you. I like to sing. Music and singing are, and always have been, an important part of my life and who I am. And music and singing, I believe, are an important part of life and what it means to be human.
4 II Human beings, of course, don t have a monopoly on singing. Most birds sing. Some whales sing. And the fields and woods around my house are filled with the singing of tree frogs and cicadas throughout the spring and summer months. But when human beings sing, there is, I believe, something special and unique that differentiates the songs we sing from the singing of whales and birds, frogs and insects. Like birds, we are singing creatures. Our bodies are musical instruments. Like language and speech, singing is a universal human characteristic. And there is no people, tribe, culture, or society on earth that doesn t sing. As human beings, we sing to comfort ourselves and our children, when we work together, when we go to war, when we bury our dead, and when we worship together.
5 We sing because sometimes the joy in our hearts simply can t be contained and bursts forth in song from our lips. And we sing when we re sad and blue and singing is the only way to express the pain we feel. We sing to make the world and our lives more beautiful, more melodious, more harmonious, more colorful, deep, and rich. We sing, as enslaved African Americans and oppressed people throughout the world and human history have sung, because singing gives us strength for life s journey when the path is difficult and the way is not clear. We sing, as those who marched from Selma to Montgomery sang, to give voice to our shared hopes and vision, to affirm our commitment to our shared values and to one another, joining our spirits as well as our voices in common cause.
6 We sing because singing connects us with others in ways that go beyond mere words. We sing because, as the Maasai people of Kenya say, singing feeds our spirits and nourishes our souls. We sing to feed our spirits and nourish our souls. We sing because we re born to sing. We sing because we can t keep from singing. We sing because we have to sing. III As you heard in the reading by UU minister David Blanchard that Katey shared with us, the Maasai people of East Africa believe that each child that s born is born with a song in her heart a song that is the song of her soul. And I believe that the Maasai are right. I believe that each of us is born with a song in our hearts. A song that is as much a part of who we are as the sparrow s song is part of the
7 sparrow. A song that we need to sing, just as much as the mockingbird needs to sing. A song that is the song of our soul. The song of our soul, though isn t a song that we sing with our mouths and tongues and lips and breath. It s a song that is with our hearts and our hands. It s a song that is composed of the experience of life, not musical notes written on paper. And it s a song whose tune can change many times over the years: changing keys, moving from major to minor chords and back again, playing countless variations on familiar themes. It s a song that echoes the rhythms of our comings and goings, our strivings and failings. It s a song whose harmonies connect us with others and with God. The song of our soul is a song that, in David Blanchard s words, can be heard as a song of love or longing, as a song of encouragement or hope or comfort, or as a song of struggle or confidence and strength. But it is
8 always, he says, the song of our life that sings back to us something of our essence, something of our truth, something of our uniqueness. And it is also the song of the larger Life of which our lives are a part, giving testimony to what has been, giving thanks for all we ve been given, giving hope for all we strive for, giving voice to the great mystery that carries each of us in and out of this world. IV I believe that each of us has a song a song of our soul, a song that is uniquely our song. But, as David Blanchard notes, it sometimes takes a while for us to hear our own song and learn to sing it by heart. Sometimes we think that our song is the song that others would like us to sing. Sometimes we think that other songs are more beautiful than our own. Sometimes the noise and busyness of the world drowns out our songs. Sometimes we are simply afraid to sing. And sometimes,
9 as Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, we go to our graves with our music our songs still inside us, silent and unsung. V I ve been listening for my song for almost sixty years and I m still listening and still learning to sing it. I ve heard snatches of the melody in the songs that my mother sang to me when I was a little boy. Its tune is rooted in the traditional shape note singing that I discovered as a young man and its spirit echoes the gospel hymns I sang in the Methodist Church as well as the songs of protest, freedom, and peace that called me to stand up against oppression and work for justice. Its rhythm often reflects the beat of rock and roll and makes we want to dance like I did when I was young (which is only one of the reasons I could never be a Baptist preacher). I hear it in the sound of running water, falling rain, thunder, wind, waves, frogs, and birds. I hear it in the silence, in the
10 space between and behind my words and thoughts, in the holy space between myself and others. I hear it in the sound of the constant ringing in my ears a ringing that I hear as the constant background music of the universe. And, when I am singing my song well, it is the song that others hear in my words and deeds, in expressions of kindness, love, and compassion, in the values I affirm and in the principles to which I m committed, in the way I live my faith and life, in my ministry, in the person I am and the person I hope to be. And I hope that it is a song that makes the world more beautiful and whole and harmonious. But whatever else it may be, it is my song and it is the song I can t keep from singing.
11 VI So, what about you? Have you heard the song of your life, the song of your heart, the song of your soul? When did you first hear it? What song is your life singing to you today? Is it a song of praise, a song of thanksgiving for life s blessings, or a song of a joy? Is it a song of lament, sadness, loss, or grief? Are you singing the blues because singing gives voice to the pain and suffering you feel in your body or soul? Is your song is a song of hope a song that gives you courage when you re afraid or lost? Is it a song that offers comfort and peace to others or yourself? What song are you singing today? Is it your song? Or is it the song that someone else wants you to sing?
12 What song do you need to sing that remains unsung? And what s keeping you from singing your song today? I believe that each of us has a song in our hearts a song in our souls, a song that we need to sing just as much as songbirds need to sing. So I hope that you will listen for your song, that you ll learn it by heart, and that you ll let your life sing, giving voice to your prayers, your doubts, your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your wonder, your awe, and your thanks. Let your life sing. Don t go to your grave with your song still inside you, silent and unsung. Let your life sing. And may the song you sing nourish your soul, feed the spirits of others, and make the world more melodious, harmonious, and beautiful. May it be so. Amen.