Let us sing to the Lord a song of love
“Sing to the Lord a new song; his praise is in the assembly of the saints. We are urged to sing a new song to the Lord, as new men who have learned a new song. A song is a thing of joy; more profoundly, it is a thing of love. Anyone, therefore, who has learned to love the new life has learned to sing a new song, and the new song reminds us of our new life. The new man, the new song, the new covenant, all belong to the one kingdom of God, and so the new man will sing a new song and will belong to the new covenant. There is not one who does not love something, but the question is, what to love. The psalms do not tell us not to love, but to choose the object of our love.” Saint Augustine
Richard Rolle wrote that “the little bird who finds love will sing until it dies” as it has found the melody of love which he describes as a sweet spiritual song which is a very special gift and can elevate us into beauty and harmony.
June is such a lovely month, when the beauty of nature is in full swing and we see growth and flowering all around us. We can stop and listen to the birds singing their melodies, enjoy our green spaces and reap the benefits of the earlier work which has been done, pruning, tidying and getting things into a better order – only for nature to then explode gloriously in her abundance and rebel against the confines of the narrow tidy structures we try to create.
On a pilgrimage to Jerusalem I bought an image of an Armenian cross which had unfurling and growing leaves at the ends of the wood, such a powerful symbol of life and nature springing from the cross. We visited the Garden of Gethsemane and it was so beautiful to be in that garden surrounded by olive trees which I am told can live for thousands of years. It is a very connecting thought that such a tree could have been in that same garden, so closely in the presence of Jesus himself as the events of Holy Week unfurled. Mass in the Church of All Nations was an experience with the noise and busyness of the world swirling through that holy space and all around us. Unfortunately I did not realise I was not wearing my tour badge and was stopped from going forward to receive Holy Communion, my fault for not following the rules of course, but an unexpectedly distressing moment for me, not being allowed to go forward. I protested but felt I had to respect the authority there, then, as I turned away our group priest noticed and kindly came down to me from the sanctuary and gave me the Eucharist, bless his heart.
This experience has stayed in my memory quite profoundly and I do feel sorrow for people who cannot receive the Eucharist. I have heard the pain and suffering this causes in our communities, not only to individuals, but also to their families. If people feel unwelcome and excluded, this can cause a crisis of faith, and belonging, people then leave and families are lost to our communities. This quiet leaving affects their children and damages the generational links in parishes as connection is lost in so many ways and causes such pain in families; faith memory and practice is then replaced with loss and distancing which is so sad for all of us. It is very hard for people to find faith and grow in their faith and in their communities when these links are broken.
It does make me question why this happens. The Eucharist is the medicine of mercy, a sacrament of healing and a profound encounter with Christ himself, how could this be denied to anyone? Perhaps the feast of Corpus Christi is a timely reminder to pray for the whole body of Christ and perhaps also to listen out for the voice of the outsider, seeking shelter and belonging.
We all know that marriages sometimes fail, for many different reasons, and support and compassion are needed. Perhaps someone has suffered domestic abuse and left a marriage to protect themselves and their children from the abuser. If someone then finds another chance for happiness, then surely that is God’s love and mercy at work. We are not here to judge others, we are simply here to love. I do sometimes wonder if we get too bogged down in thinking about rules and judgements in institutions and then forget the spirit of the rule, and lose sight of God’s mercy and the open invitation to come and eat which is so abundantly shown in the feeding of the crowds by Jesus and his disciples and so beautifully captured by George Herbert in his poem: LOVE bade me welcome.
We put a great Benedictine emphasis on welcome, to welcome the stranger, to welcome the visitor as Christ himself, to know Christ and see Christ in everyone. but do we mean it? Are we superficially welcomed to visit or are we truly welcome to stay and be our true selves, faults and failings and all. Are we loved as we really are or just as we first appear to be, or only just for as long as we manage to follow the rules? God is not narrow like that so why should we be? Wouldn’t it be lovely to take our cue from nature in her flourishing and share that joy and freedom through Love, pure and simple.
Richard Rolle describes this harmony of being united to God through love: “The lover of the Godhead, whose whole being is shot through with love for the unseen Beauty, rejoices in the deep recesses of his soul; he is gladdened by that most delightful fire, for he has given himself to God with utter devotion. And so,… when Christ wills it, he will receive into his heart a sound sent from heaven; and then his meditation will be turned into melody, and his mind will dwell in marvellous harmony…”
Sometimes an experience can give focus on what and who we truly love and the beauty of sharing what we have been given. Let’s take St Augustine’s invitation to sing a new song to the Lord, if we can welcome everyone in love, and encourage them to stay, to sit and eat, together, in unity, what a very beautiful song that would be.
Pax
Sarah Richards
