Making a Joyful Sound

Sunday Service, 13 July 2025

Led by Rev. Sarah Tinker

Opening Music: ‘Trumpet Voluntary’ by J. Clarke (played by Abby Lorimier, Pippa Scourse and Andrew Robinson)

Opening words and welcome: ‘A new song, a new harmony’ by Richard S Gilbert

By our presence here with one another,

Hearing the harmony that is the music of the spheres,

May some of the harshness and discord of our human lives

Be transmuted into music.

May we discover a new song in our hearts,

And a new harmony in our beings,

So that we might return to our everyday lives

with fresh courage, with eagerness and delight.

Good morning everybody and welcome to this gathering of Kensington Unitarians. Welcome to all of you here in London, welcome to those of you joining us online and a special welcome to anyone who might be listening to this service sometime in the future, as a podcast or a YouTube video. I hope life is treating you well. Do get in touch with us – it’s good to hear from folks out there in this big wide world of ours. If we’ve not met before, I’m Sarah Tinker and it’s a pleasure to be with you on this sunny Sunday morning.

And what a pleasure to hear our service begin with that well known trumpet voluntary, played at the start of many weddings over the years. When I heard that we would have not only a pianist but a cello player and a trumpeter with us today, I knew we had to create a service that celebrates music itself. What a gift music is to us humans and our key message is a reminder for us all of music’s ability to heal, to soothe us in troubled waters and to guide us onwards when we’ve lost our way. I hope there’ll be something in today’s service that speaks to each one of us and assists us in our living of our own particular life. And I look forward to hearing about some of your favourite music after the service.

But first let’s take a pause, a quiet moment to settle ourselves, knowing that music is created by silence as well as sound.

Chalice Lighting: ‘Igniting the music within us all’ by Marnie Singer

I light this chalice flame, a flame lit each week by progressive religious communities around the world each week when we meet, I’ve some lovely words written by Marnie Singer for a service that celebrated the part music played in their worship. It’s called ‘Igniting the music within us all’ and it recognises all the elements that are needed for music in church.

The chalice is the container—

the space where the musicians and the listeners gather.

The oil is the fuel—

the hours of practice and the life experiences of everyone in the room.

The wick is the instruments and vocal chords

through which the music will flow.

And the flame—the flame!—

is the music which is created, as if by magic,

when the instruments are lifted,

the breath is inhaled,

and the downbeat is nodded.

May this flame ignite the music within us all!

First Hymn: (on sheet) ‘Remember the Flame that Guides’ in tribute to Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys, sung to tune of ‘Sloop John B’

Our first hymn today is sung to an old folk tune called Sloop John B from the Bahamas, made famous by the Beach Boys in the sixties. We’ll be singing lyrics written by Melda Grantham who is about to retire as our Unitarian Welsh secretary and I wanted to sing this in tribute to her and in tribute to the creative force behind the Beach Boys splendid harmonies - Brian Wilson, who died last month.

Remember the flame that guides

The journeys of all our lives;

Illuminates each hour and precious day.

Its radiance we need, we’ll follow its lead -

For love will guide us and show us the way.

Remember the reasons why

We’ll never choose to walk by;

But stand for what is right and just and true.

For others we’ll care, each burden we’ll share -

May love sustain us in all that we do.

Remember both friend and foe

As on our journeys we go;

And strive to live our lives in harmony.

Respecting the earth, and each person’s worth -

And love will show us what our world can be.

Candles of Joy and Concern: 

Each week when we gather together, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, a chance to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.

So I invite some of you here in person to come and tell us briefly who or what you light your candle for. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak so people will be able to hear you. And if you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring a handheld mic over to you. Thank you. 

(in person candles)

And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.

(zoom candles)

And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud.

(light candle)

Time of Prayer and Reflection

And as we move into a time of reflection and prayer you might like to adjust your position so you feel prayerful, whatever that means to you, taking a moment to acknowledge all the joys and concerns of this community that we have just heard spoken, the shared human experiences that they represent, the unique stories of our individual lives. Let us hold each other’s stories with care, with compassion and with respect for that which others’ carry. Knowing we cannot carry those joys or those sorrows, yet we can hold out a helping hand towards one who is troubled and we can share a moment of triumph and delight.

Let us call on the spirit of life and love to be with us now and to bless all that we do and say together this day.

And let us consider the rhythm and tempo of our own existence at this time. Are there any adjustments we’d wish to make if we could? Could the notes of our daily lives find greater harmony with others? Could our lyrics wish for a closer rhyme?

We might pay attention to the discordant notes in our own lives and the lives of those we love and wonder if we can only witness this or is there a part we could usefully play.

In the life of our wider world we might know the deep sorrow from comes in witnessing harsh and clashing elements, over which we have so little sway.

Yet our yearnings for peace and justice might guide us to the small tasks of mending and repair that we could offer.

And when evening falls and cool, refreshing breezes blow, we might hear the music of the spheres gently reminding us that we are small elements of a greater whole, part of a wondrous mystery of all that is, beyond all imagining.

Let us in the quiet of this moment take our place in that mystery …… and know always that we belong, so may it be, amen.

Reading: ‘Playlists of the Spirit’ by Connie Simon

Oscar Hammerstein II, creator of many wonderful musicals wrote that “When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything.”

“Doe, a deer, a female deer…” Many of us instantly recognize that as the first line of the song “Do, Re, Mi” from “The Sound of Music.” You might even be able to picture Julie Andrews (oops: Maria) telling the Von Trapp children that these notes are the “tools we use to build a song. Once you have these notes in your heads you can sing a million different tunes by mixing them up” — after which, of course, she bursts into song. Within three minutes, they’re all harmonizing and parading through the streets and waterways of Salzburg having a good ol’ time.

I know it’s corny, but it’s true. Think of all the music you know: every song you’ve ever sung, or danced to, or heard on the radio. Every single one of them is a different arrangement of the same notes. Using the power of imagination, composers have mixed those notes up in a gazillion different ways to express a multitude of emotions.

No matter how I’m feeling — happy or sad, sick or well, fragile or unbreakable, loved or unloved — I turn to music. Music is my solace and my comfort, the one thing that’s always with me. I feel its vibration deep in my soul; it’s my spiritual practice. Music can calm me, excite me, and sometimes its beauty even moves me to tears. I have playlists for exercising, celebrating, mourning, driving, housecleaning… and some for just being. From Bach to James Brown, there’s an arrangement of those same notes for every occasion in my life, including the hard times. Music tells the story of my life.

I recently went through a really rough patch. I was recovering from an accident and still trying to keep up with school and my other responsibilities. I felt out of control and lost. Once again, music saved me. I played quiet, soothing music when it hurt to move. I sang inspirational gospel music for encouragement when I began to stretch my sore limbs. Today I listen to thumping hip-hop as I work my muscles back into shape. I’m forever grateful for my music — those do-re-mi’s that fill my soul and provide the playlist for my life.

Prayer: May we each be blessed by the presence and power of music in our lives.

Hymn 18 (grey book): ‘What Wondrous Love’

Let’s sing again now, a beautiful hymn of love, that gives thanks to all those who have lifted us when we were down, what wondrous love is this – number 15 in this grey hymn book or on your screens.

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul,

what wondrous love is this, O my soul?

What wondrous love is this

that brings my heart such bliss,

and takes away the pain of my soul, of my soul,

and takes away the pain of my soul.

When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down,

when I was sinking down, sinking down,

when I was sinking down

beneath my sorrows ground,

friends to me gather’d round, O my soul, O my soul,

friends to me gather’d round, O my soul.

To love and to all friends I will sing, I will sing,

to love and to all friends I will sing.

To love and to all friends

who pain and sorrow mend,

with thanks unto the end I will sing, I will sing,

with thanks unto the end I will sing.

Meditation Words: ‘The Gift of Music’ by Dorothy Read (adapted)

The Gift of music is in us and we are in the music

Music is healing

Music can calm and heal, music is a gift

Music is sanctuary

We feel the music wrap around us and are protected. Music is a gift.

Music is meditation

We stop, we clear our minds, we fall into the music. Music is a gift.

Music is art

We express ourselves in the language of the human heart. Music is a gift.

Music is Joy

Listen to the bird singing to the rising sun, listen to our own voices. Music is a gift.

Music is passion

The deepest of human emotions are mirrored in the notes of our songs. Music is a gift.

Music is Magic

It transforms our moods, our relationships, our attitudes, and our fortunes. Music is a gift.

The gift of music is in us - and we are in the music!

Silence (3 min)

Musical Interlude St Anthony Chorale’ by J. Brahms (played by Abby Lorimier, Pippa Scourse and Andrew Robinson)

Reading: ‘Psalm 100’ (KJV)

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.

Know ye that the Lord he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.

Address: ‘Making a Joyful Noise’ by Rev. Sarah Tinker

I wouldn’t say I came from a particularly religious family – yet my mother’s childhood was spent very involved with a local Methodist church and her love of singing included hymns, and her love of words included assorted Biblical sayings, sayings that have stayed with me ever since. There were five children in our household so mum had lots of opportunities to quote from Psalm 100 – when we were playing recorders – badly, when we were singing pop songs – loudly. ‘Ah making a joyful sound unto the Lord are we?’ she’d say with a smile, as closed the door behind her.

Towards the end of my mum’s life, her memory almost gone, no longer able to recognise or name us adult children, yet she would break into song and join in with the words if we started singing a childhood song with her. It’s now well known that music affects memory, and emotions, it enhances our ability to manage pain and motor control – as we move to a rhythm or tap out a beat. Music can even help a brain recover when damaged and it plays a vital role in social cohesion and bonding – that’s one reason why some us come to church on a Sunday. We like to sing together.

And we now know that our ancestors were enjoying music together a long time ago. Flutes made from bones of birds and cave bears, and carved from mammoth tusks have been dated back at least some 43,000 years ago and one of these early flutes is thought to have been made by a neanderthal rather than homo sapiens. And I can imagine how many and varied the drums made by our forebears would have been.

Those early humans would have used music in their celebrations, in their acts of giving thanks to a creator, they would have  music – just like us – to express their feelings – their joys and their sorrows. And they would have used music, just as we use music to this today, to rouse people to action. Tapping out a beat and repeating a simple melody helps to bring people together. And this can be for good or ill. Studies have been written on the use of music in war and politics; we humans can lose our individual sense of morality and responsibility when roused by music.

Much has also been written about music’s healing powers and I wanted to share with you today a book I re-discovered this week – written by psychiatrist and author Oliver Sacks. It’s called A Leg To Stand On and it tells a remarkable story of a strange but not unique experience he had, following a horribly serious break of his leg. Whilst in hospital, as the leg bone itself started slowly to mend, Sacks became convinced that the broken leg was not his. It felt alien and beyond his control, an extremely distressing condition. It’s a book well worth reading – it’s hard for me to explain just how dreadful Sacks felt at this time and this feeling of disassociation lasted for some months. But here’s his description of how music helped him to regain his sense of hope and regain ownership of his damaged leg. And that healing began when after months of hearing no music, a friend managed to bring him a cassette recording of Mendelssohn’s violin concerto. This is how he described it:

Suddenly, wonderfully, I was moved by the music. The music seemed passionately, wonderfully, quaveringly alive – and conveyed to me a sweet feeling of life. I felt, with the first bars of the music, a hope and an intimation that life would return to my leg – that it would be stirred, and stir, with original movement, and recollect or recreate its forgotten motor melody. I felt – how inadequate words are for feelings of this sort! – I felt, in those first heavenly bars of music, as if the animating and creative principle of the whole world was revealed, that life itself was music, or consubstantial with music; that our living moving flesh, itself, was ‘solid’ music – music made ‘fleshy’, substantial, corporeal. In some intense, passionate, almost mystical sense, I felt that music, indeed, might be the cure to my problems – or at least a key, of an indispensable sort.’ From Oliver Sacks’ book A Leg to Stand On

Most of us won’t have ever experienced such an extreme situation but I imagine many of us have known music’s power to lift our spirits and bring us hope once more.

Reading Sacks’ book is not for the faint-hearted or squeamish. His description of how he broke his leg and then struggled for many hours to get himself down from a Norwegian mountainside was almost too much for me to read. But I had to smile in memory of my own childhood when he explained how at his lowest point, when he could have given up and drifted off to sleep and certain death, he remembered an old song The Volga Boatmen, with its powerful chorus of ‘ho, heave, ho’ – a chorus my mum and dad would sing when we were tackling something that was a physical challenge – like putting up a heavy tent.

So I wonder what all this talk of music stirs in you.

What are your particular musical roots?

What would you include in your ‘playlist of the spirit’ – the key songs that accompany you in life?

And let’s talk about the delights of music – both for ourselves alone – those singing in the bath times or humming along to a tune – and the connections forged by sharing music together with others. For surely this is what it is to be human – we are both unique and one of many – and music is a wondrous part of our journey of life.

Hymn 108 (grey book): ‘My Life Flows On in Endless Song’

Our closing hymn today comes from the Quaker tradition and speaks of ways in which the powerless can regain their power through song, such that even tyrants might tremble, such is the strength of those who have faith.

My life flows on in endless song

Above earth's lamentation:

I hear the real though far-off hymn

That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife

I hear the music ringing:

It sounds an echo in my soul -

How can I keep from singing?  

What though the tempest round me roar,

I know the truth, it liveth.

What though the darkness round me close,

Songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm

While to that rock I’m clinging:

Since love prevails in heaven and earth,

How can I keep from singing! 

When tyrants tremble as they hear

The bells of freedom ringing;

When friends rejoice, both far and near,

How can I keep from singing!

To prison cell and dungeon vile

Our thoughts to them are winging:

When friends by shame are undefiled,

How can I keep from singing!

Announcements

Benediction:

Nancy Burke writes that ‘There’s a song for everyone, one incalculable mix of melody and magic that so neatly wraps the heart that we are lifted beyond the here and now. And something in us is healed. Search for your song.’

In the week ahead may each of us remember the songs that can hold us, heal us and help us along our way – the songs that speak our message and touch our hearts. And let’s remember to share those songs with others, for who knows what new harmonies might emerge when songs join together and something new is born. Go well all of you in the week that lies ahead, go well and blessed be.

Closing Music: ‘Cousins’ by H. Clarke (played by Abby Lorimier, Pippa Scourse and Andrew Robinson)

Rev. Sarah Tinker

13th July 2025