´óÏó´«Ã½

Good morning.

Ìý

The choir I’m a member of is learning an arrangement of Siegfried Sassoon’s great poem, ‘Everyone sang’. He wrote it soon after the signing of the Armistice on November 11th 1918. It’s a beautiful hymn to life - full of energy and hope:

‘Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom…’

The poem is wistful and honest, too, about the horror that had gone before that great moment. Singing a song about the power of song to bring people together, and enable them to express deep ideas and feelings, is a moving experience, I find.

I’ll never forget one moment in my life when everyone suddenly burst out singing. A good friend from theological college and I had been on a course with other student ministers in Transylvania. It was early morning, the coach was waiting, and we were all standing outside the conference centre saying our goodbyes. There was a palpable sadness in the air about leaving the community formed within the conference we’d been attending. Barriers of language and history had been overcome by our shared Christian faith during a week of living and learning alongside one another.

Then, out of nowhere, the Hungarian speakers looked at one another and began to sing. We didn’t know the words but we recognised the tune. They were singing Psalm 100: ‘All people that on earth do dwell, sing to the Lord with cheerful voice’.Ìý We joined in, in English, somewhat to their amazement. I discovered later that this is the traditional way to bid farewell in their church.

God from whom all blessings flow, keep us praising you this day.
Help the communities where we live to be places of singing and support,
even though life still confronts us with pain as well as joy.
We ask this in your name,
Amen