“It Sounds Along the Ages”
by Reverend Charles Blustein Ortman
June 3, 2007
HYMN:
It Sounds Along the Ages, William Channing Gannet
1. It sounds along the ages,
soul answering to soul;
It kindles on the pages
of every Bible scroll;
The psalmist heard and sang it,
from martyr lips it broke,
and prophet tongues out-rang it
till sleeping nations woke.
2. From Sinai's cliffs in echoed,
it breathed from Buddha's tree,
it charmed in Athen's market,
it hallowed Galilee;
The hammer stroke of Luther,
the Pilgrims' sea-side prayer,
the oracles of Con-cord:
one holy Word declare.
3. It calls, and lo, new Justice!
It speaks, and lo, new Truth!
In ever nobler stature
and unexhausted youth.
Forever on it sound-eth,
knows naught it-self of time,
our laws but catch the music
of its eternal chime.
READINGS:
The first reading is from the “Tao Te Ching,” by Lao Tsu and Translated by Stephen Mitchell.
The great Tao flows everywhere.
All things are born from it,
yet it doesn't create them.
It pours itself into its work,
yet it makes no claim.
It nourishes infinite worlds,
yet it doesn't hold on to them.
Since it is merged with all things
and hidden in their hearts,
it can be called humble.
Since all things vanish into it
and it alone endures,
it can be called great.
It isn't aware of its greatness;
thus it is truly great.
The second reading is from the book, “Ideas and Opinions,” by Albert Einstein.
A human being is part of the whole called by us universe ... We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from the prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. The true value of a human being is determined by the measure and the sense in which they have obtained liberation from the self. We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if humanity is to survive.
SERMON:
“It Sounds along the Ages,” has been one of my favorite hymns for a long time. Part of that may have to do with the fact that it was written by one of my favorite Unitarian ministers from the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, William Channing Gannet. He was very active in the Western Unitarian Conference at that time. Susan B. Anthony was a member of his congregation and he played an important role in the Women’s Suffrage movement. Gannet penned some other lines that I’ve always kind of thought of as my own personal credo, words that express a sentiment that for me religion too often fails to embrace:
“Ethics thought out is religious thought;
Ethics felt out is religious feeling;
Ethics lived out is the religious life.”
Another part of why I love this hymn so much is because the melody, “Far Off Lands.” It was written by the Bohemian Brethren, and if their name alone wasn’t enough, it was written in1892 by the Bohemian Brethren of Rock Island, Illinois. (See hymn #187 in the hymnal.) That’s my home town on the banks of the Mississippi River. Through the musicianship of my ancestral towns folk, it’s almost as though this hymn allows me to feel the current of that great river as it rolls along carrying those prophetic sounds, as they ebb and flow in thought and deed, through time and space.
But the biggest part of why I love this hymn is because it makes a statement of faith and then asks a question about it, which it steadfastly and faithfully refuses to answer for us. The statement of faith is that there is an abiding presence, or force, or principal, or spirit that moves ceaselessly through time. And William Channing Gannet asks us to name it, what sounds along the ages? What echoed from Saimai’s cliffs, the Buddha’s tree and the shores of Galilee? What calls us to justice and truth and noble stature?
When Gannet originally wrote the hymn, it had the title “The Word of God?” A pretty interesting title for a firm humanist to employ, I think. I don’t know if he changed the title or if it was changed subsequently; I only know that I’m glad it was changed. Not because I feel the need to cut God out of the deal, but because it would be too easy to miss the point, too easy to accept a shallow explanation for what ought to be a deep, rich exploration.
Besides, to respond to the question: “What sounds along the ages?” with “the word of God” hardly gives an answer at all. It just changes/morphs the question into “What is the word of God?” Either way, though, the hymn begs the question: What has called the human heart/spirit from the beginning of time and will continue to call us until the end of time? What calls us to truth and beauty and justice, to awe and gratitude and service? It might be important for us to recognize the voice that is calling us so that we might be better able to answer that call.
I had an experience in my office the other morning where I could hear that voice so very clearly. It spoke loudly, and it was larger than time and certainly greater than any of the characters who were part of the experience. It was an incredible gift, really; one that might restore faith – even perhaps in times when faith has been shaken.
The story really starts a few months ago, after my mother died back in February. So many of you responded to that event in so many touching and supportive ways. One of the cards I received at that time was from a couple of very gracious and generous members of our congregation. In it there was a check made out for $500 with a note instructing me to use the money for some worthy cause that my mother would have supported.
I sent back a thank you note saying that I’d hang on to the money in my Minister’s Discretionary Fund until such a cause became evident, which I was sure would not be a terribly long time. I had some vague idea that I wanted the money to go to support a family where there might be a mother who was in need for her children. I knew that my Mom would have been pleased about that. I happened to mention this possibility a few weeks back to Peggy O’Donoghue, long time member of this congregation and the social worker for our adoptive school in Newark, Newton Street School. I heard from Peggy early this past week. “If you still have it and still want to, I think I might have the family you want to give that money to.” she said.
Turns out that it was one of her families from school, a woman named Abbie, an immigrant mother from Africa and her son Akeem. Abbie has been living in the States for a while and Akeem has been able to join her here only the last few years. Their resources are extremely tight and educational opportunities are quite slim for Akeem. He would be able to attend St. Benedict’s School, a setting where he might have the best chance to be safe and to receive an education that could help him to forge a future, if Mom could pull together $1,000. Peggy was pretty sure that she’d be able to help get the remainder of the money from other sources. “Perfect,” I said.
So we arranged for Peggy and Abbie to come by my office the next day to pick up the check. When they arrived, Peggy introduced me to Abbie. I immediately liked this young woman, who spoke English with a charming accent. I was keenly aware of the effort required to achieve such language mastery, having only just returned two days before from a week in Costa Rica and my own misadventures in attempting to communicate in a non-native tongue.
I didn’t want to just give Abbie the money, especially because there was such a rich story that was attached to it. So I invited her and Peggy to come in and sit down for a few minutes. Abbie told me a bit about her family and Peggy filled in some of the details about how challenging things had been for Akeem, especially some of the social aspects of grade school in an inner-city school in Newark. St. Benedict’s was definitely a good choice for where he might do his best in a high school setting. “That’s great,” I said. “I’m only too happy to pass this money along to help make that possible. But I want you to know where the money came from and how I happen to have it for you.”
And so I told Peggy and Abbie the story that I just told you. That my Mom had died; that I’d been given the money by a generous couple in the church to use in her name and for some cause that I knew she would support. I’d no sooner mentioned that my Mom had died and I began to choke up. By the time I got to this point all three of us had tears rolling down our cheeks. It was a very powerful moment. “I can’t imagine that my Mom would have been more pleased,” I said.
So in case you’ve missed any of the universal dynamics that were in play, here are some of the highlights: A gift had been made to honor my late mother; that gift had passed through my hands – through mother’s son’s hands – to another mother, so that she might better provide for her own son’s future life. I know very well the generous couple who gave me the check in the first place. And I know that they would want me to assure you all that they too were merely passing along a portion of a gift that had come to them in some kind of similar way. And I have faith that, if this particular webwork of the universe can continue to full blossom, one day Akeem will build further upon it in order to yield still other networks of bounty and grace. Rather amazing, I think.
What sounds along the ages? Lau Tsu called it the Tao, the Way.
The great Tao flows everywhere;
All things are born of it;
It pours itself into its work;
It nourishes infinite words.
It isn’t aware of its greatness;
And so, it is truly great.
Albert Einstein called it the whole, the universe. He said that we are at our best when we widen our circles of compassion to embrace all life and the whole of nature in its beauty, when we recognize that we are not separate in any way from that wholeness, and that the delusion of separateness creates a prison that holds us in peril.
What sounds alone the ages? It has been known by different names to different people and in different times: the Tao; the universe; God, not God, the voice of God; Nature or Mother Nature; the Great Mystery; the Spirit of Life, and so many more names. I’ll tell you the name I gave to it in the experience in my office the other day for me; it was and is the Spirit of Love.
There was a social worker who loves her work and the children and families she serves. There were the original donors, who were not the original donors at all, but who had allowed themselves to be a point of connection in a pattern, as that Spirit of Love continued to sound along the ages. They too had loved and been loved by their mothers, mothers they had lost, and they understood the significance of that loss. There was a bereaved son to whom they wanted to offer comfort, and so made him the custodian of a gift that might make a difference in the world, in memory of his mother no less, a difference in yet still someone else’s life. There was yet another mother, a young, strong and proud woman, who was doing whatever she could to provide for her son’s future. And then there was that son too, and he is the future. At every juncture of the story, there is the experience and the expression of love; love that really had no beginning within this story and that, I trust, will have no end.
I don’t want you to get the mistaken impression that I’m equating love with money in this story, not at all. I’m equating love with the act of sharing that which nurtures life; love with connections between and among people, and with widening circles of compassion for all. I’m equating love with the experience of breathless awe that occurs when we find that we are held lovingly and generously in life by the incredible mystery that holds us here. I’m equating love with the gratitude we experience for our lives and for the incredible beauty that we find around us whenever we take time to see and feel it. I’m equating love with the expression of service that emanates from the very spiritual experience of knowing that we are a part of all that is, the spiritual experience of knowing and having faith that we are loved, and so able to reach out in love towards others – all others – and towards our planet.
So here’s the thing, I know that we live in incredibly difficult times. This foolish and immoral war in Iraq weighs heavily on our souls. Global warming and other ecological threats scare the hell out of us, especially as we think of our children and future generations. There are people in this room who are abused and addicted, who face unfathomable challenges and illnesses, losses and potential losses. This information highway that we live on keeps things moving at such a fast pace that there is hardly time to take a deep breath, let alone a moment of reflection.
I’m not saying that we can turn all those things, all those challenges, over to some kind of metaphorical happy face that moves through time, and that’s going to make everything old better. I am saying that there is a stream of life, and a love for life, that has existed from the start; something that wanted to be before being had ever occurred. I’m talking about something that for me is very real, that at least so far, has held us and moved us along, even when we are unaware of it, even when we think we are doing it all on our own. I’m talking about something that has shown us what is possible in this life and in this world and then has invited us into those possibilities. I’m saying that the Spirit of Life and of Love has a pretty good track record so far, not so much for rescuing us from our own follies (although at times it does pretty well at that too) but for being ever present as a source of companionship, as a light in the darkness, promoting the possibilities of goodness that lie within us and around us in the world.
If there is anything of value that I might offer you this morning, it is this, take faith. Take faith that you are not in this alone. Take faith that you have been a part of that spirit that sounds along the ages from the beginning of time. Take faith that no matter how isolated you might feel at times, you are a part of a stream that roles onward and foreword, choosing life and creating possibilities where life can connect with life to make life even fuller.
Sometimes those connections are so easy to hear or see or feel, as they were with Abbie and Peggy the other morning in my office. And when it’s easy like that, it’s such a gift. Because sometimes those connections seem so distant, and we feel so isolated, and it’s hard to believe – this self-consciousness we have makes it so hard to believe – that the connections are real and that they hold us in being. It seems that we need to make some kind of enormous leap of faith. But maybe all we really need to do is to just take a step. Maybe if we can do that, just dare to take a step, just near to act in faith, then we can grow our faith, and by growing it, we can act on it all the more.
How can we act on our faith? We can act on it by being mindful of the opportunities life offers us for establishing and strengthening those connections to it, to the planet and to each other. We can act on it by giving all we have to redeem those opportunities, transforming them into realities. We need this world because we are this world. We need one another because indeed we are one another.
How do we begin? We don’t have to begin. It began long before we were around. “It sounds along the ages, soul answering to soul.” We need to be still enough, to pay attention enough, in order to find our place in the stream, a place that we already have long held. And then we can accept the gifts of love and life as we find them. Then perhaps we can give them back with greater love and enjoy even fuller life.
Lao Tsu tells us that the stream roles along unaware of its greatness. I suspect it holds us in being, whether we are aware of it or not. I have to think it somehow becomes even more meaningful though, even more wonderful, when we know where we are.
There is a mystery out there; there is a mystery in here that calls us – that calls our human spirit – to truth and beauty and justice, that calls us to awe and gratitude and service. It might be important for us to recognize the voice that is calling, so that we might be better able to answer.
It has sounded along the ages from the beginning of time. The least we can do is to listen, to learn what it might hold in store for us.
Forever on it soundeth,
knows naught itself of time,
our laws but catch the music
of its eternal chime.
Poet Denise Levertov wrote this prayer that I close with. I have to suspect that she wrote it for us this morning:\
An awe so quiet
I don't know when it began.
A gratitude
had begun
to sing in me.
Was there
some moment
dividing
song from no song?
When does dewfall begin?
When does night
fold its arms over our hearts
to cherish them?
When is daybreak?
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