See the child
that Mary bore
On her lap so
softly sleeping
In a stable cold
and poor
Ox and ass their
vigil keeping
Sing lullaby,
sing lullaby
My own dear son,
my child
Lullaby, sing
lullaby
Lullaby, my
little baby
Flights of angels
‘round His head
Sing Him joyful hymns
of greeting
Peace on earth,
goodwill to men
Each to each the
song repeating
Shepherds
kneeling by His bed
Offer homage
without measure
Wise men, by a
bright star led
Bring Him gifts
of richest treasure
You may not know the name
Yip Harburg, but surely everyone here knows this lyric he penned:
Somewhere over the rainbow
way up high,
there’s a land that I
heard of
once in a lullaby.
Lullabies have been around for a long, long time. The earliest recorded lullaby is a Babylonia
text over 4,000 years old. While its aim
was to get a baby to sleep, its message was rather menacing. It chastised the baby for disturbing the
household god with its crying and also contained a list of repercussions if
silence did not follow. Many cultures have
lullabies with dark overtones. The Luo
people of western Kenya sing “Rock, rock, rock,” to their infants before
starkly warning, “The baby who cries will be eaten by a hyena.” Think about our own western tradition of
singing “Rock-a-bye-baby” where wind and crying result in a cradle falling from
a tree branch!
Well, while some
lullaby lyrics are more child-appropriate than others, Nina Perry, in a BBC
article notes, “Wherever you go in the world, women use the same tones, the
same sort of way of singing to their babies…
Rhythmically, there are shared patterns… giving them a characteristic
swinging or rocking motion.” All of this
has a way of mimicking a baby’s experience in the mother’s womb.
Lullabies
function in at least five different ways:
They build a bond between parent and child.
They pass down cultural knowledge and traditions.
They help to develop communication skills.
They regulate emotions and behavior.
They help a baby fall asleep.
One study of premature babies concluded gentle music helps to slow down the
heart rate and improves feeding and sleeping.
Another study determined a live voice is more beneficial than recorded
music. Still another study found
lullabies enhance an infant’s neurological development.
Fred Rogers (of Mr. Rogers
fame) observed “All of us have had the experience of hearing a tune from
childhood and having that melody evoke a memory or a feeling. The music we hear early on tends to stay with
us all our lives.” Would it surprise you to know that lullabies help hospice patients to transition
from daylight to darkness?
Do you have a memory of someone singing you to
sleep?
The beautiful
anthem we heard moments ago highlights how the lullaby has figured prominently
in the Christian spirituality surrounding this night. Angels praising, shepherds knelling,
gift-bearing travelers from the east, all of this awe and wonder and still our
attention is drawn to the most human of all experiences: a mother singing
softly to her newborn.
At last Saturday’s
beautiful handbell concert, Al Reese introduced Cathy Moklebust’s arrangement
of Still, Still, Still, saying it evoked the image of “softly falling
snow, quiet dreaming, and the great mystery of God made flesh”. You may remember he encouraged us to listen
with our eyes closed, which I did and, true to his words, I was caught up in
softly falling snow, quiet dreaming, and the great mystery of God made flesh.
As I listen to Mary’s
Lullaby I hold it next to my faith that all things have been created
through God’s Son. The incredible power that
launched the Big Bang, the Vision who dreamed up the quark, the One who is All
and beyond All and largely incomprehensible to our human mind became
flesh. God needed to be held and
succored and sung to in order that the heart rate might slow, digestion might
improve, neurological pathways might develop, communication skills be learned,
and cultural traditions assimilated. Is
there any better way to describe this than “the great mystery of God made flesh”?
I wonder how many of us have
oriented our religious selves around coming to God. We come before God with our petitions in
prayer, our confessions, our praises, and our thanksgivings. We come to God. This is how we do religion. But tonight suggests there might be something
we are overlooking: God comes to us. God
comes to us through the unexpected visit of a friend. What does a lullaby to our God sound like in
this moment? God comes to us through a soft
and serene majestic sunrise. What does our
lullaby to God sound like in this moment?
God comes to us in the person who desires a new beginning in life,
perhaps by attending tonight’s service.
What does our lullaby to God sound like in this moment?
The great mystery of God made
flesh reminds me of my need to be gentle and tender and soothing and nurturing
in this life. So much of what God is
seeking to do in our world begins as something vulnerable, as something in need
of care, of compassion, of a lullaby.
Earl Wynne was one of
those solid, salt-of-the-earth good guys I have been blessed to know in my
ministry. He stood at the front door of
the church, greeted every person by name, and escorted the women on his arm to
their pew all the while shushing the choir and clergy out of the way, saying “make
room for the paying customers!” His
association with the parish began in the 1950’s when he and his young bride
first attended a service on a hot, humid Richmond Sunday in July. Because the church was not air-conditioned
the usher encouraged him to remove his jacket so he would be more
comfortable. That simple act of gracious
hospitality convinced Earl not only to join the church, but to carry out a
decades-long ministry of greeting people.
Earl would never say the usher sang a lullaby to him, but tonight that
is what I would call it. Earl and his
wife, Juliet, were in a vulnerable place looking to begin something new in
their lives. The church received them
with the gentleness and care of a lullaby.
When was the last
time you realized God came to you? How
did you respond? What did you do? Do you think there are times God comes to
you, but you fail to recognize it? If
so, what might you do to be more attentive?
When, where, and how do you sing a lullaby to the vulnerable new thing
God is doing? And what about you? What vulnerable new thing might God be
seeking to do in your life? What does
your lullaby to it sound like?
