Chalice Reflection & Sing to Your Heart's Content

Chalice Reflection
of
Jim FitzGerald
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
June 14, 2009

During my years of study at seminary, one of my favorite topics included the Hebrew Bible prophets.

A prophet is someone who speaks on behalf of someone else. In religious scripture, the prophet has been understood as one who speaks on behalf of God.

Since the prophet Jeremiah often had a contentious relationship with God, he quickly became one of my favorites. It is in the first chapter of the book of the prophet Jeremiah that famously begins “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.”

While the context of this saying relates to Jeremiah’s call to being God’s prophet, it is often remembered when celebrating parenthood. I’ve been reflecting on that phrase for this chalice reflection for two reasons.

First, today is the Sunday before Father’s Day and it is appropriate to begin thinking in anticipation of such a celebration day that honors our fathers.

Secondly, I’ve been thinking about this phrase because my partner Jaimy and I are expecting a child – due in mid October, making it appropriate that as a father-to-be, I offer such a reflection a week before Father’s Day.

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” I have reflected on this saying in a number of ways, carefully reconstructing the phrase to gain deeper insight:
As you were taking form in the womb, I began to know you
I knew your spirit before you were formed in the womb.

I wondered what meaning the phrase would have if the direction were reversed. Instead of hearing the parent’s voice in the phrase, what if we heard a child’s voice?

Before I was formed in the womb, I knew you.
As I was taking form in the womb, I began to know you.
I feel your spirits with me, Mom and Dad, as I take form in the womb.

Whether read from a parents’ perspective or a child’s, the wisdom from the Hebrew tradition is loud and clear - the bond of love exists long before flesh takes form.

Since learning that we’re expecting a child, feelings range from intense excitement – like when Jaimy and I see the profound joy between parents and child as they play. Jaimy and I look at one another as if to say – “we can’t wait.”

At other times, Jaimy and I witness parents in utter frustration and exhaustion while their toddler throws a temper tantrum at the Stop and Shop check-out line. Jaimy and I look at one another with uncontrollable fear as if to say – “Oh my God, what have we gotten ourselves into!”
However, feelings of excitement always win out, and the wisdom from Jeremiah comforts the soul knowing this profound relationship has already begun.

I don’t know whether Jaimy and I will have a son or a daughter. Honestly, we only reflect on that aspect when someone asks. The rest of the time, we just observe in awe and are overwhelmed at the miracle unfolding.

I often place my hand on Jaimy’s growing belly and whisper “I’m here… waiting to welcome you, to hold you, to love you. I can’t wait to see you.” In my spirit, I hear a little voice on the other side of that wall of flesh saying with hope and anticipation – “I can’t wait either, Dad.”

As we journey to next Sunday’s celebration of our fathers, let’s spend this morning singing to our heart’s content as we hold in our thoughts and prayers those parents-to-be. Because when we see the temper tantrums in the middle of Stop and Shop – we parents-to-be realize we need all the prayers we can get.

“Sing to Your Heart’s Content”

A Sermon by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
June 14, 2009

“O sing unto the Lord a new song: sing unto the Lord all the earth.” So sounds the first verse of the 96th Psalm. We who are Unitarian Universalists may have a hard time hearing these words, loathe as we are 1) to accept biblical verse as commandment and 2) to sing new songs. On that first point—accepting Biblical verse as commandment—we have a choice. We can hear those words not as a commandment, but as an invitation. And we can substitute whatever or whomever for “the Lord.” We can simply sing a new song, which raises the matter of our reluctance to do so.

How many times have I heard, “Please, can’t we just sing the familiar ones?” I tend to respond with: “Remember, there was once a time when you had never tasted chocolate,” hoping of course that I’m diffusing the resistance of an all-out chocolate lover.

So too there was once a time when we had never heard “Silent Night” or “Spirit of Life.” And there may be folks here this morning, newcomers to this church and this faith, who have never heard “Spirit of Life.”

In the spirit of Pete Seeger and the story I adapted from the story he adapted, the story of Abiyoyo, we’re reminded that a new song can still a giant after he exhausts himself dancing to a new song that is completely irresistible. In the story, the young boy and his father conspired to disarm the giant Abiyoyo by music and magic. Imagine a song whose only lyrics are your name. It’s enough to make a scary giant smile and dance like he’s never danced.

The stuff of stories you might say. Ah yes, but there are those giants that lurk in the hearts and minds not only of young children, but of ripe and otherwise sage adults. Each of us holds fears that sometimes loom like terrifying giants. Sometimes we call them phobias. Sometimes we call them nightmares. Sometimes we call them memories. I wonder how a song, a brand new song, might pacify the giants that lurk and linger in spirit and psyche.

New songs with an arresting lilt and fresh lyrics have a way of taking us by surprise and bringing us to a place we never thought we could go. Old songs comfort; new songs awaken. Sometimes there’s a bridge joining old and new.

So it is with “Spirit of Life” and “Rising Green,” the song we’re about to sing. The bridge is Carolyn McDade, who wrote them both. While “Spirit of Life” may be our “familiar song,” it was actually written after “Rising Green.” Carolyn is a longtime songwriter and a neighbor, living on the Cape. She has also been described as a “feminist activist.” In her own words, she says “I write love songs to social movements.”

Return to the words of “Spirit of Life.” They’re laced with a spirituality of compassion and justice. The song was written as a prayer, and so we sing it as an extension of our communal prayer. I wonder if “Spirit of Life” could have calmed the spirit of Abiyoyo. My guess is: How could it not?

The song we’re about to sing holds its own disarming lyrics. In the spirit of life renewed and abiding love that we celebrate this morning, “Rising Green” sings like a psalm of new life and abiding love. You’ll find the words in your orders of service. Allegra [Music Director] will lead us. I invite you all to sing out and please, sing to your heart’s content.


Sources:
Between the Lines: Sources for Singing the Living Tradition, Edited by Jacqui James, Second Edition, Skinner House Books, Boston, 1998.

Kimberly French, “Carolyn McDade’s spirit of life: Unitarian Universalism's most beloved song, the woman who wrote it, and the communities that sustain her spirit, UU World, Fall 2007,
http://www.uuworld.org/life/articles/35893.shtml.

Carolyn McDade, “Rising Green,” in Singing the Journey: A Supplement to Singing the Living Tradition, Unitarian Universalist Association, 2005, 1068.

Carolyn McDade, “Spirit of Life,” in Singing the Living Tradition, The Unitarian Universalist Association, Beacon Press, Boston, 1993, 123.

Pete Seeger and Paul DuBois Jacobs, “Abiyoyo” in Pete Seeger’s Storytelling Book, A Harvest Book, Harcourt, Inc., New York, 2000.