Learning the New Song

The old song of my spirit has wearied itself out. It has long ago been learned by heart so that now it repeats itself over and over, bringing no added joy to my days or lift to my spirit. . . I will sing a new song. As difficult as it is, I must learn the new song that is capable of meeting the new need. I must fashion new words born of all the new growth of my life, my mind, and my spirit. I must prepare for new melodies that have never been mine before, that all that is within me may lift my voice unto God. How I love the old familiarity of the wearied melody – how I shrink from the harsh discords of the new untried harmonies. – Howard Thurman

As I have reflected on this meditation by Howard Thurman during this time of turmoil and increasing authoritarianism in the U.S., I’ve asked myself, “What is the old tired familiar melody in my life at this time?” I realize that it is fear, despair, obsessive worry, knee-jerk actions. What is the new song for me? Discovering it requires listening. It’s God’s invitation to something fresh and new in each moment. It requires listening, learning the melody, and then singing along. This past year since the election of our current president, it has been an invitation to deeper prayer for me. When I read the fear-mongering and hostility in the news, I feel dismay and anxiety. I watch in dismay as the authoritarian playbook unfolds before my eyes. Never say, “it can’t happen here,” I remind myself.

How can my dismay at what is happening be turned into productive prayer and action, rather than obsessive anxiety? As I listen for God’s prayer in me, I hear the new melody. I find myself being drawn to pray deeply that that of God in each person in this country and in the world would be raised up and that what is not of God would fall away. I return to this prayer many times a day.

As I pray, I have a sense of God working, of the good being raised up in many newly-elected leaders, of the good being raised up in many continuing political leaders, of the good being raised up in ordinary citizens to give them the will and the ability to distinguish truth from falsehood as they listen to the rhetoric of politicians. I have a vision of others who are uniting in the same prayer that I am praying, holding up one another’s arms in prayer as Aaron and Hur did for Moses, so that we don’t give up when we grow weary. The vision I see includes some who are called to pray at this moment, some called to work for fair ballot counting and protection of our democracy, some called to witness in the streets, some called to pray now and work tomorrow, others to work today and pray tomorrow, some to work and pray at the same time. The work and the prayer are integrated. As I listen for the new song, I continue to pray and sense how God is at work. I feel confident I will know what is mine to do when.

As I listen for the new song, my prayer also moves to those who are marginalized. Last spring, I co-led a pilgrimage in Assisi, Italy. On our last full day, we visited the museum in Assisi that honors those who hid Jews during World War II. When Assisi was occupied by German troops toward the end of the war, the local bishop, people in convents and monasteries, and ordinary citizens worked together to form what was known as the Assisi Network. A local printer printed false identity cards so that people could get food. A famous cyclist hid the identity cards in his handlebars as he practiced his cycling between Assisi and the neighboring city of Perugia. Don Aldo Brunacci, coordinator of the Assisi Network, oversaw the placement of people in hiding places, and coordinated the distribution of the false identity cards. I was inspired and strengthened as I saw the faithfulness of ordinary people under an authoritarian regime. They listened for the new song and sang it together. Yes, they felt fear as they took risks on behalf of vulnerable people. At the same time, they reported experiencing joy as they worked together doing God’s work. Fear, joy, sadness, hope, and anger were all mixed up in them then, just as they are in me now. They weren’t perfect, just as I am not perfect. Yet they worked together, one step at a time, being faithful to what was theirs to do. As a result, all 300 Jews who came to the small town of Assisi during the last part of WWII were saved.

I knew when I left that museum, that the God who taught the people of Assisi to sing their new song at that time will teach me and others around me to sing the new song at this time. Just as the people in the Assisi Network formed community and learned to be faithful in perilous times, so can we form community and learn to be faithful in these perilous times.

I pray that that of God in marginalized people today will be raised up to give them hope and remind them of their dignity when they are tempted to despair. I pray that that of God in those of us who live with privilege will be raised up to give us strength and courage to fight for the protection of those on the margins.

This prayer feels deeper than any particular political regime. We so need the good to be raised up in each of us as we move forward in the US, as each person and country moves forward in this world world. Those of us who disagree with one another, who support different candidates, need the good to be raised up in us so that we are not tempted, respectively, to gloat or to turn to bitterness and despair. We need the good to be raised up in each of us so that we can hear the good in opposing points of view. How can I listen for the good in those who voted for a candidate whom I see as dangerous for our country and our world? How can I not demonize those voters? How can we carry out respectful dialogue and find our way forward as fellow citizens seeking to re-build a democracy together?

May we each continue to listen for the new song that is ours to sing. May we all learn to sing the new melodies. May we build community and be faithful to what is ours to do.

[This is a further development of the November 2020 Executive Soul blog.]