‘I Did it My Way’, ‘Looking Forward, Looking Back’, and ‘The Wind Beneath my Wings’ are just three of the songs that have become favourites for use at the end of a funeral service in recent times. Others include Celine Dion’s, I will always love you, which eventually made the transition from being used inappropriately as a wedding song -- it is all about the loss of a loved one -- to one used in funerals; Up there Kazaley, for those who think that AFL is the prime reason for existing, and the more traditional Amazing Grace played by a piper. Each reflects something of the person who is being celebrated or the dreams and aspirations of those who attend.
The care and thought that goes into choosing such pieces, and the emotional impact they have – the music is the thing that unlocks the tears – serve to remind us that songs and singing are powerful affecters. It is not by accident that each and every nation has a national anthem, or that we sing at footy matches and during the America’s Cup campaign. We sing lullabies and nursery rhymes to our kids, and at this time of year, carols, as part of their formation. It is well known that muzak in shopping malls is chosen for the affect it has on the mood of the shopper.
All those songs join other set pieces such as the Citizenship pledge, the oath spoken before giving evidence, and the marriage vows; often rehearsed words, which we all sort of know by heart, and which, as a result, reflect our common understanding of what a relationship should be like or what it means to belong. The Creed plays a similar role for the Christian family, which is why at Baptisms, as well as in regular Sunday worship, we recite it.
The recognition of the power of song, and of forms of words that are said over and over is critical to unlocking the power of the words that are found on Mary’s lips as she meets her cousin Elizabeth; words that have become a standard in Anglican worship. The Magnificat, the Song of Mary, was sung in place of a psalm today. We sing it at every Sunday evensong and it is a set piece for Evening Prayer on Wednesdays. The fact that it can be used in place of the Psalm affirms its status. It is a piece which reflects something of the heart of our faith, it is one of the pieces that records what we believe.
In turn we can recognise that the song of Mary is made up of words that have been harvested from the psalms and the prophets; it parallels the Song of Hannah, the song Hannah sang when she discovered that she was carrying the prophet-to-be Samuel. Mary’s song is a song which reflects the hopes, the dreams and the passions of her people. As Paul Nuechterlein, quoting Thomas Bernard, notes, ‘The Lukan Mary spontaneously irrupts with [a] glorious avalanche of themes that summarize the whole Hebrew experience’. The nature of the song, rich as it is with images from her tradition, suggests that Mary has been deeply formed by her religious and cultural customs, rituals and stories. She knew by heart the story of God saving the Israelites, and of God’s alignment with the poor, hungry and distressed. It this deeply imbedded formation which surfaces as she encounters the bizarre and the confusing. Her faith gives her words, and gives her a frame from which to respond as she recognises God at work in her life; familiar and deeply imbedded words surface even though God’s action itself, the looming birth of Jesus, is new and fresh.
This take on the role of music, the songs we sing and the set pieces we say invites us to reflect on how this is for us. Is our experience of the faith like that? Are we so deeply formed by phrases from the Bible, from the prayer book or the hymn book, that we find ourselves saying ‘Blessed are you, Lord God of all Creation……’ , ‘Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ…’, ‘Amazing grace…’? And if these are not the words that spontaneously flow from us, what are our words and where do they come from? Are our phrases ‘Oh, What a feeling!’ and ‘Go, Harvey, Go!’?
The culture is strong,
….. and subtle in its operation.
One tool that we, as Anglicans, have in our kit bag, as we seek to be like Mary, is our Prayer Book. The framers of the Anglican Prayer Book, Thomas Cramner and Co., were awake to the dynamic which is highlighted for us today; that often spoken or sung words help to form our world view and enable us to interpret our lives. So The Book of Common Prayer is literally dripping with quotes from the Scriptures. Cramner’s approach has been carried over into our current services of morning and evening prayer, as well as into the Eucharist itself and the Baptismal liturgy. The saying of morning and/or evening prayer is an option that is available to each of us should we be wanting to ensure that we are steeped in the tradition.
And so today we are invited to be attentive to the music that sings itself in our heads; to note whether they are songs of liberation and justice, or jingles from other sources. And what are the songs that we sing to our kids and our grand kids?
Today we also recognise that through baptism we offer to Asher, Alexander, Morgan and William a number of new songs. Baptism invites them to become folk who sing with us the songs of God’s goodness, songs that we pray will make them leap for joy and magnify God’s holy name. Today Hannah’s song, Mary’s song, and our song becomes their song.
+Amen
© Peter Catt
1 Samuel 2:1-10
http://girardianlectionary.net/year_c/advent4c.htm
