SERMONS

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Sean Gilbert – 3 September 2006

Communion Reflection

"The time for singing has come..."

Song of Songs 2: 8-14

Right in the middle of the Christian Bible is a little book of some eight poems in length.  A book that defies categories in many ways; neither prophetic, historical, ostensibly wise, nor greatly religious for that matter.  In fact, God does not even rate a mention.  Yet a book of great and lasting influence over the years. And of course I’m referring to the ‘Song of Solomon’, or otherwise known as the ‘Song of Songs', or simply the ‘Song’, or ‘Canticle’.

A poem of love, a song of human passion and desire shared between the voices of the male lover and the beautiful Beloved - and at times an onlooking chorus. “I am the rose of Sharon, the lily of the valley”, says the lover. “As a lily among the thistles, so is my beloved among girls”.  And then she responds in kind, “As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my love among men. In his delightful shade I sit and his fruit is sweet to my taste…” And as many of you would know (from experience), like the passion of love itself, it doesn’t stop there…

So the question might be then, why is this extraordinary poem about human love and desire included in the Jewish and Christian Canon in what is otherwise the saving story of God, or for Christians, the saving story of Jesus? I don’t know the answer to that; I’m simply glad it’s there as much needed relief to what I think at times is a great deal of religious contrivance and abstraction. I mean, here we have an expression of life beginning from the point of human experience, not from the lofty perspectives of God enthroned in heaven.

Be that as it may or may not be, the great attraction of the Songs to Christian writers and preachers over the years – particularly the early years and the middle ages – was the way in which it humanized, or at least put into raw human terms the very nature of love that was held to exist between Christ and his church. Unashamedly  allegorical in their approach, these writers saw the poems as expressing a grace given and a grace received that was strikingly real and transformative, unlike the theoretical and doctrine-bound teaching so common then and sadly, so common still.

A divine love which seeks out, teases a little, and then consummates; a human love which yearns, which looks and finds and which finally procreates. In other words, a sensuous joy and celebration of faith, not the dour, all too serious, shame ridden and guilt induced state, we still think might be the religious or spiritual norm.

It’s no wonder then, that generally speaking, the voices of the poem and its commentators get short shrift within the Christian tradition as a whole. It’s too touchy-feely, too sexy, too subjective, too allegorical, even too obscure and mystical for its own good. And yet, beyond this all too familiar ‘masculine protest,’ it is a book that deliberately seeks to awaken the senses, to arouse desire, and to touch a nerve that lies at the very heart of all things of spirit, not before or beyond it.

“I hear my love”, says the beloved, look he comes leaping upon the mountains  etc…”

 

Well, after such a long introduction (and my word, I could have said a lot more) what might this text be saying to us? What might the image of the Spring after the Winter – despite our ongoing concern about a lack of rain – be suggesting to our imaginations and soul?

Generally, I would anticipate, the hope and possibility for renewal, for a welling up and spontaneous expression of gratitude and tangible hope. More particularly for me this week, the wonderful refrain, “The time (or season) for singing has come.” To give voice - as do the morning birds – to the promise of a new day, irrespective of the darkness that they still might be singing in. For in one silly sense, they make the dawn to come, they give impetus for the sun to rise.

The season for singing has come. And this is not only a heartening and timely thought given the Robin Mann week which is just around the corner, but a strengthening and encouraging thought given the fragile and tragic state of our world and the unsure and tenuous place of the Christian Church within our own society.

Still it is time to sing, and a new song at that. For to sing, as one recent writer has suggested, is to pray doubly, is to move deeper (echoing Ian Price last week) into the realms of faith, engaging the heart and the affections; for to be moved there is to be changed there. To give full expression there is to be liberated there, such is the enduring gift of song.

Recently Debbie passed on a printed interview with John Bell, a key figure in the Iona community, which is appropriately entitled ‘Sing a New Song”. And in it he is asked:
Why is congregational singing so important for the life of the church?

            “First, because everyone can join in doing it. That sense of being a corporate body comes out in the song of the church more than anything else. We are doing something together for God.
            Congregational singing is an identity-shaping activity. In the past it was identity-shaping in the sense that Methodists just sang songs by John (sic) Wesley and maybe two or three others, while the Presbyterians (in my country at least) would sing only the Psalms, and the Baptists would sing something more lively. We defined our communities by the songs we sang.
            I think we are now in an era in which communities can be reshaped by what we sing. Are we sectarian, denomination-bound Christians or are we universal Christians? The song of the church will tell us that. It will also tell us whether we are male-dominated or whether the body of Christ is made in God’s image as much through its female members as its male members. A great deal of our singing has had images of soldiers and warriors, but never midwives. God blesses midwives in the Bible, but we’ve never sung, “Midwives of God arise.”
            The church’s song also reminds the world that voices are meant to do more than just talk. A repeated phrase in the Psalms is: Sing to God a new song. The expectation is that this directive applies to everyone, not just the choir or the temple musicians. And in the book of Revelation we read that in heaven the saints and angels are singing a new song. Part of the job of the church is to be faithful to God’s command and to anticipate heaven.”
           
           
Identity-shaping, faith-shaping, value and behaviour reshaping. Not simply entertainment, comforting or an abstraction from reality, but a song to bring about new dawns, in us and in others. They simply cannot be left to the experts then. They either reflect something of our place and station in life, or they miss the mark altogether.

The trick, I think, is to place ourselves in the song, to be carried by it and its metaphors into our own world of family, work, play and mission. For to echo the lover’s invitation of “Come then, my beloved, my lovely one come,” an expressed and heartfelt faith is a creative and vibrant faith. It is an engaged faith, if you’ll pardon the pun, not simply with good ideas or just ideals, but enflamed with the passion of being held, nurtured, accepted wholly and graced for the living.

                         Thanks be to God.  Amen