The New England Church Pulpit New England Congregational Church UCC Aurora Illinois

So today we sing, not ignoring the wars and rumors of wars, or the agony of a precarious economy, or the tragedy of senseless deaths at the Miss World pageant, or the oil slick from a freighter cut in twain. Rather we sing in the midst of these, recognizing that the shadows of life reveal all the more the Light that has come into the world.

Our service today is a feast for heart and mind, as we sing around God’s table where everyone is included. The choir cookbooks have informed this format (and these are for sale, by the way!). So sing for your supper, for music is the food of love, a veritable banquet for body and soul. The hymns themselves form the body of the sermon today, that we will all proclaim by singing. Let us be reminded by their words our purpose.

Out of need, and out of custom, we gather here again in this sanctuary to give thanks, to offer our support for the ministry of this church, and to sing. We gather in love and laughter, grief and pain, some believing and some in doubt, some rejoicing and some afraid, here to voice our questions and live in the mystery of the unknown.

When there are no answers, and life seems very complicated, and beyond our control, it is best to sing. No amount of logic will explain life’s journey adequately, no theology or philosophy can ever comprehend it, but singing connects us to the Center of life. Music is the language of the gods, the universal expression of soul, the inspiration that comes from someone else’s pain or another’s joys. O that we had a thousand tongues to sing praise to the God who reigns above and within, for in our music God is glorified. How often making music we have found a new dimension in the world of sound, as worship moved us to a more profound expression of understanding and thanksgiving.

It is here in this place, surrounded by color and companions on the journey, bells playing and voices making a joyful noise, that we experience the great faithfulness of things Holy. By nature God is ever changing yet always stable, a paradox to be experienced, more than a logic to understand. Morning by morning new mercies we see in the smile of a friend, the courage to face those difficult days, the peace that eludes explanation, a love divine that excels all loves.

Here we gather week after week, year after year for 145 years to renew our strength and hone our faith, to fly, as it were, on eagle’s wings, to shine like the sun, and be held in the palm of the Almighty. Here we catch some glimpse of the Ground of Being that leads us into daily living, through the dark shadow of night, and across the thin ice of life’s fragile surface.
Here our souls are encouraged to be still, and know that God is God, to find some quiet center in our routine, in the innermost self where we may be able to say it is well with my soul, whether on peaceful river or stormy sea.

At the time of our offering, we hear the old gospel tune compelling us to sing them over again to me, those wonderful words of life. And of course music is made by giving of ourselves, for it is in giving that we receive, it is in giving that the community is created, it is in giving that the church even exists for our mutual benefit.

This is an invitation to come, all thankful people, come; raise the song of harvest home. All are gathered in this safe space, as winter storms begin to blow, and perhaps in the winter of our souls. Let all things now living sing songs of thanksgiving as we travel from light into Light. Just as the stars and plants stay their course in the universe, and the mountains and oceans proclaim stability and strength, so too may we trust God to stay the course of life, and give thanks.

Having sung our hearts out, reminded of the many wonderful blessings given to us in large and small ways, we sing together, a capella, that staple of our congregational diet, giving thanks for the ties that bind, for hearts of love, for kindred minds, which at their best mirror that which is above and beyond us all, that anchors us to the daily experiences, even the God of the universe. Let us join heart and voice. Amen.

–Gary L. McCann

From Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses

One of the most soothing things in the world is to put your tongue to the roof of your mouth right behind the teeth and sing la, la, la, la, la, la, la. When we sing, not only do our vocal cords vibrate, but so do some of our bones. Hum with your mouth closed, and the sound travels to your inner ear directly through the skull, not bothering with the eardrum. Chant “om” or any other mantra, in a solid, prolonged tone, and you will feel the bones in your head, as well as the cartilage in your sternum, vibrate. It’s like a massage from the inside, very soothing. . . . .
Every religion has its own liturgy, which is important not just in its teachings but also because it forces the initiate to utter the same sounds over and over until thy are ingrained in memory, until they become a kind of aural landscape. . . . .
The odd thing about music is that we understand and respond to it without actually having to learn it. Each word in a verbal phrase tells something all by itself; it has a history and nuances. But musical tones mean something only in relation to one another, when they’re teamed up. You needn’t understand the tones to be moved. Say the words “ it’s a gift to be simple. It’s a gift to be free. It’s a gift to come down where we ought to be,” and nothing much happens. You might even disagree with its minimalist doctrine. Yet if you add the tuneful Shaker music that goes with it, its haunting melody, full of enough ebullience, joy, and conviction to inspire a whole village to put up a neighbor’s barn in one afternoon, will truly captivate you. . . . . Think lofty thoughts and sing [an] elevating tune, and soon enough you will be uplifted.

. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . . .

** An Ode to Turkey Day **

The first day is Thanksgiving. The noble fowl is shot
And at your place, so full of grace, You find it steaming hot.

The second day is Friday And here the story's old
The noble Turk, so fond of work, Is served in slices cold.

On Saturday you suffer much And things look pretty rash.
To join the ranks, the bird of thanks Is now entitled "Hash."

The fourth day you are sorry He ever left his coop;
Amid your jeers, he now appears A steaming bowl of soup.

As all things have an ending, We'll let it go at that.
So eat the best and give the rest Unto your neighbor's cat.

~~~~(Author Unknown)

Copyright © 2002 by Gary L. McCann. All rights reserved.

Top of Page

Index of Recent Sermons

Index of Archived Sermons

Return to NECC Home Page