Chaplaincy Services

National Chaplains' Conference,
June 2004

Proclamation: Singing a Universal Language

How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? How can we sing it so that it is heard and understood? Psalm 137 asks us this very question. Today in 2004, it is quite significant that this call comes from a psalm that begins with the words: By the rivers of Babylon, because these rivers - the Tigris and the Euphrates - were and still are in Iraq, a land full of hope and suffering that appears almost daily in the news.

I have been to this country several times, and to Babylon in particular. I recited this psalm while gazing at the stones, the walls, and the roads of this city, whose ruins bear witness to such a long history. Today, soldiers are very close to this ancient city, as they have been so often before. Beyond current political events and their complications, this place touches us even more profoundly in our strange and nearby lands, penetrating deeply within us. Iraq and Babylon bear witness to the universality of the human condition, with all its anguish and beauty, and the universality of our search for the face of God, whose mystery and presence we are sometimes able to grasp.

Abraham and Sarah left Ur of the Chaldees, in the south of present-day Iraq, to embark on their long pilgrimage towards a new land. On this journey, they walked into the unknown with confidence and hope. Today, Abraham and Sarah are the mother and father of a vast number of Jewish, Christian and Muslim believers. Even in Babylon, the Jewish people were sent into exile; but at the same time they experienced a religious revival and their Scriptures took form. Since the end of the 1st century, Christians from various churches have inhabited these regions, and later Islam took root in all its diversity. Buddhism was also present, as were remarkable religious movements such as Mani, not to mention the local and ancient religions. Indeed, Psalm 137 portrays an image of a land that, over thousands of years, had been a crossroads for religions, a place of meeting and mutual influences. During certain special moments in history, this was achieved through tolerance and respect for differences.

God's name has been sought, sung and proclaimed in so many ways on this earth, in confrontations and reconciliations, in discord and concord. Ours is a strange land, and also a universal land. Then and now, human beings have had difficulty listening and speaking to each other. Building and destroying in the carrousel of successive empires, children living in fear under the terror of weapons, prisoners used for entertainment, and all the while the elderly keep the memories of these events in their hearts. By the rivers of Babylon, we sat down and wept, remembering Zion.

But if Babylon brings to mind a crossroads of religious traditions, the long history of their establishment, and their search for kinship, it also calls to mind the failure of these efforts. In the Book of Genesis (11:1-9) there is also reference to the Tower of Babylon, a tower that symbolizes a plan for human unity, but from a conformist approach. The passage reads: Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language. An end to the diversity of languages and peoples, an end to the differences that separate us. All humans reunited, but at a terrible cost. They all sing the same song, but in only one language, and walk at the same pace. And God is unhappy with this human plan. The story ends with confusion and dispersal, not communication.

In the Christian tradition, there is another story that is a sort of anti-Babel. It is the story of Pentecost, found in the book of Acts (2:1-13). Jesus' disciples receive the Holy Spirit, a Wind that fills them, opening their hearts and their mouths. They then joyfully proclaim the Good News to people who have come from many lands and cultures; and communication takes place. Each one of them hears the others talking in their mother tongue. The Spirit's presence is not just a proclamation voiced in many languages; it is also, and just as much, one of welcoming and listening in many languages, not just one. The story of Pentecost bears witness to a moment of grace, when shared convictions are heard in the language of the other, in one's own universe. Here we are far from the Tower of Babel, in a large place within the city where people speak and listen to each other, in a universality that does not erase our differences, but calls upon our various voices to sing the Lord's song.

The words that unite the disciples and their followers are not a sermon on morality, a piece of factual information or a prediction of catastrophe, but rather the declaration of God's wonders, a joyful proclamation that astonishes and delights, opening a new era so that hope may be spread and a community may be born. These words unite various worlds, break down borders, and herald universality. The brotherhood they speak of remains: It is more vast than the narrow confines and fences with which we contain it. This brotherhood outsmarts Babel and its tower of confusion, its ivory towers. It brings a sign of encouragement to the public arena, where the people walk about and meet in a place common to mankind.

In this era of globalization, what words can bring us together without eliminating our differences or simply juxtaposing our interests? For communication to take place, will all that is left be the trade or consumption of goods decided upon in the towers? Hardships may unite us on occasion, but solidarity in the face of these misfortunes and the shared effort to build lasting hope will, over the course of time, bring us much closer together. This solidarity cannot be constructed without words that open horizons, that celebrate the wonders of God, the greatness and beauty of an abundant Source of life, and celebrate them in all human languages, remaining faithful to our distant roots.

Today, we again find ourselves by the rivers of Babylon, or at the foot of the Tower of Babylon. These old stories still speak to us of our exiles and our hopes, our efforts and our confusion, as we seek to understand each other, respect each other, and draw closer together. This we know: ignorance, contempt towards others and ourselves, fear and fatigue push us into isolation, from mistrust or indifference. And all the while, the cracks that divide our world widen. But deep within us, a mysterious voice beckons us to not give up and to dare to hope. This voice comes from the furthest reaches of human history and from the most intimate part of our conscience. It also carries with it voices from the future that are counting on us. This inner voice beckons us to sing, so that our past, present and future can be reconciled.

We carry memories inside us, these songs we learned during childhood that came from our families and our places of worship. They are unique in quality and they give us roots, a human face that we share with our loved ones. It is good to sing them, good for them to be heard. But in our present day, we also hear new songs in languages and melodies that seems strange to us. However, they also have their origins in the childhoods of those that sing them. They should be listened to and learned, so that they may touch a fallow land inside of us, that of our common humanity.

But beyond these memories and this reality that define us, what we all have in common, by the river of Babylon and at the foot of its tower, is a future that is both uncertain and promising. A road is before us that will lead us toward new encounters, if we march in the direction of the pilgrims, following the steps of Abraham and Sarah. On the road, there is no better way to keep the faith than to sing together, here on this earth where we are all travellers. It does not matter if our voices are not in perfect harmony, or if we do not know or understand all the words to all the songs. Together we can chant a long song full of laments and praise, a testimony to the trials and tribulations of the people who walk among us. When we sing it, we will be filled with a breath of life. We will push on ahead, one in front of the other and together towards the future, far from the sound of warfare that can still be heard, even today, near Babylon.