Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard.
Sunday 8th October 2023
5.45pm Portsmouth Cathedral
Isaiah 5:1-7, Psalm 80:9-17, Philippians 3:4b-14, Matthew 21:33-end
Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard.
Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill.
The prophet Isaiah is not notorious for his love-songs. But it seems almost too coincidental this evening, as we welcome friends and supporters from the Cathedral Music Trust and celebrate International Chorister’s day, that our first reading hears his song. Not only that but a love-song.
This song is a parable for the Beloved. A love-song of God. An earthly story or song with a heavenly meaning. But Isaiah’s is a song of both love and warning. It contains lyrics of tenderness and torment.
Because so often a song conveys more of how we feel than words without music. It takes us to an elevated level, it enables us to explore language and sound and harmony in ways that words alone cannot touch.
We heard much the same message preached by James Francis, chaplain to the Chaplain of the Fleet for the Royal Navy at the annual Royal Marines Band service. The music within that service was breath-taking, and when Men of Honour was played by the band and paired with the Epitaph for the Fallen it was incredibly moving.
As I mentioned briefly earlier, today is International Chorister’s Day. I believe that this Cathedral church has the best cathedral choir. Under Doctor Price and Mr Gungor’s tutelage, these boys, and the girls who sing on alternate services work so hard, often arriving before I do in the mornings and leaving later after an already full day at school to sing together, and what joyful music they make.
A few days ago I asked some of these boys here what the best thing about being a chorister was, and they responded ‘the singing’ – no surprises there. And more directly the joint nature of singing with others. Some of them love singing the psalms, other the canticles. The swell and softness of harmony, the melody, the organ. Others mentioned the community. The joy of singing with siblings and friends. Cathedral choristers develop unrivalled commitment, self-discipline, and organisational skills as well as aptitude in their singing abilities. Cathedral choristers are a gift to others.
But this isn’t simply singing. These choristers sing the harmonies of heaven.
A few weeks ago as I was setting up for a weekday evensong here, I walked past an elderly lady who had chanced upon the Cathedral as she needed a quiet space just to be for a moment. She sat stooped in a pew, keeping herself to herself. I popped over to say hello and her eyes lit up as I greeted her. I then left her in peace. Moments later, the boys and the back row filed in carefully and casually after a day at school and work and began to rehearse. In my setting up, I flew past the lady again and she reached out a hand and took mine and said excitedly ”Is it the boys?” It is, I responded, and again, with eyes that looked like stars, in exhaled breath she uttered “heaven”.
And for her in that moment, she breathed deeply and peacefully, and was reminded of her own son as a chorister and the magical time he had singing.
“Heaven” she whispered.
And so I let her sit and soak up the music in rehearsal-mode, and she did, with eyes closed, face pointing towards heaven, small tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“Heaven”.
Just as the boys were filing out she took her leave and I told her that there was a service of evensong that night and that she would be welcome to stay, to which she responded “I’ve got to go and make my husband’s dinner, but ill be back one day. That was enough heaven for today.”
These children gave her a gift, even in their rehearsal. The music, not simply containing meaningless words, but the words of life found in the scriptures gave that woman life. Heaven.
These words do something. This music does something. It leads us towards heaven. Towards goodness and life and peace.
The song of Isaiah tells the story of the vineyard on a fertile hill, where his beloved, that is God; clears the stones, digs the earth, builds watch-towers, hews vats for the produce and plants choice vines in hope of worthy wine. But even with his care, his oversight, the wine turned sour. Very literally it produced stinking grapes. And so in his fury he tears it apart, piece by piece and commands that the ground lay waste. A story in song, a warning, for anyone who hears his tune.
It is an image of God’s chosen people as the vineyard. Designed to produce the good fruit of justice and righteousness. But instead, their fruit produced an absence of justice and a vacuum of righteousness.
It is a song of both delight and warning if only those with ears would hear.
The same can be said of the Gospel reading, where the parable is heard once again.
The song is one of love, it is one of abundance and productive harvests. It is also a song of terror and warning. The fierce and fiery judgement of the Lord.
If only we could hear this song set to music. I wonder what it would sound like? If only we could hear God, the beloved, singing over the barren land.
God, the beloved singing over the wasted, fruitless land.
God the beloved singing over injustice and sinfulness.
God the beloved sings.
And because God sings, we sing.
We sing, because God sings.
Songs of freedom, of hope, of love and justice, of mercy and tenderness. We are invited to respond in song to the reality before us. Because God does too.
We are delighted to accept the generous gift from the Cathedral Music Trust that enables us to continue the provision for music with increased diversity and development of voice and song in this place. A gift that has blessed our past, enriches the present and will secure the future of Cathedral music in this cathedral church.
We sing the song of heaven.
To call us to a new reality.
Where peace and justice and righteousness reign.
Where we meet the Vine, the Beloved in His sacrifice in bread and wine. In our Eucharistic feast, journeying with music to a place of new contentment and hope.
And in the words during the distribution of communion, ‘where there is love and kindness, God is there.’
This is the song of heaven.
Amen