Breaking Forth into Song

Breaking Forth into Song    

A meditation delivered electronically by Rev. Dr. Randy K. Hammer - May 3, 2020

Acts 16:16-28 CEB; verses from Maya Angelou's, "Caged Bird"

When was the last time you broke out into song?  That may seem like an odd question, especially in light of current circumstances.  Who feels like singing these days, with all the uncertainty, illness, isolation, economic downturn, job losses, and the rest? Such we may be inclined to think.  How can we possibly think about breaking out into song with all that is wrong around us?

But history tells a different story.  Many instances could be cited of how, when things were at their worst, people have sung the loudest.

Take, for example, the story read from the Book of Acts about Paul and Silas being thrown into prison for “causing an uproar” and promoting new religious ideas.  Do we see Paul and Silas in that Philippian jail wringing their hands in worry and crying “Woe is me!”?  On the contrary, we read of Paul and Silas “singing hymns to God” in that jail cell at midnight.

American slaves were known to break forth into song as they toiled in the heat under the threat of the master’s whip.  Some of the most meaningful hymns of the Christian faith came to us from the hearts and souls of the American slaves who broke forth into song, even in the most difficult moments of their lives.  Included among my personal favorite hymns are the African American spirituals “Lord, I Want to Be A Christian,” “Go, Tell It on the Mountain,” and “Let Us Break Bread Together.”

American poet Maya Angelou, in one of her most famous poems (which also gave birth to the title of her autobiography), speaks of the caged bird that breaks forth into song.  The caged bird is a powerful metaphor, of course, for the chained slave who longs for freedom.

There is an opening scene in one of my all-time favorite movies, O Brother, Where Art Thou? of a group of prisoners in chains and shackles cutting grass and weeds while all the while singing at the top of their lungs.

Well, this meditation began to take shape a few weeks ago as I was reading a passage in one of Mark Nepo’s books where he relates a time when he was lying flat on his back in a hospital following one of his many surgeries.¹  There were four other patients in the recovery room with him.  Deep silence pervaded the room.

Suddenly one of the other patients, an older man, began to laugh.  The other patients started looking at one another in bewilderment, until all of them joined in what became a cascade of laughter accompanied by moans of pain as the laughter pulled on their incisions.  But together, all of them laughed and hurt, laughed and hurt.

Well, Nepo comments, “That laughter was a raw and primal sort of song, an elemental way of giving voice to our suffering.  It was remarkably healing.  I learned a great truth from that unexpected chorus. . .

Nepo continues, “We often underestimate the power of giving voice, but it is real and sustaining.  It is the basis of all song.  It is why prisoners break into song.  It is why the blues are sung, even when no one is listening.  It is at the heart of all hymns and mantras.

“And it works its healing . . . In giving voice to what we feel, the darkest cry uttered with honesty can arrive as the holiest of songs.”¹

A recent report in Christian Century magazine noted that a study by Chorus America found that 17 percent of Americans participate in a choir of some kind.  The study indicates that singing in groups (take note, potential United Church choir members) contributes to better mental and physical health.  The report found that although singing in church choirs has been on the decline, choirs formed for other purposes, such as singing for people in hospice care, at retirement communities, and for the homeless are on the increase.

We have seen on television the past few weeks of how people are coming together via Zoom and other electronic means, and even from their apartment balconies, to break forth into song, making beautiful music together, in spite of social distancing.  When troubles come, people continue to sing.  Because breaking out into song gives voice to the inner angst and pain we are experiencing.

So, again I ask: How long has it been since you broke forth into song?  It doesn’t matter whether you think you can sing well or not. The great 13^th century poet Rumi wrote, “I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think.” 

The point is this: breaking forth into song – or giving expression in some other physical way to the pain and unrest that is caged up within us – is good for body and soul alike.  May it be so. Amen.