This Sunday marks the end of the liturgical calendar. It is the final feast of the Christian year before we start all over again with Advent. Sometimes called “Christ the King” Sunday, it is meant to be a reminder of Christ’s power and the related gifts given by God. This festival was only established in 1925 by the Roman Catholic Church and was, at the time, meant to challenge the secularization of society. Well, I can’t say I am particularly concerned with or interested in that sort of focus, but I do kind of like the idea of saying goodnight to one year, reflecting on what’s occurred and moving into the new year with a spirit of peace and gratitude.

So I present a lullaby. It was suggested by a friend’s father who is, I think, in his eighties. He shared that he has very clear and fond memories of his grandmother singing this to him when he was a small boy. Another hymn that I hadn’t thought of in a while, his story triggered my own memories of my mother singing this to me. Now, I am not the most reliable for memory recollection, so I consulted with my brother and sister and both confirmed that this was indeed our lullaby. My brother thought our maternal grandmother sang it as well. The hymn is said to be a traditional Moravian song that begins to show up in print in a German hymnbook around 1693. So it’s old and has, based on what I’ve been told, been sung to children for at least eighty years. And I suspect many, many more.

Gott ist die Liebe, lässt mich erlösen;
Gott ist die Liebe, er liebt auch mich.
Drum sag’ ich noch einmal: Gott ist die Liebe.
Gott ist die Liebe, er liebt auch mich.

I can’t even hear this one in English, but the gist of it is that God is love and loves even me. Another simple, comforting sentiment. This can mean many things and probably varies for whomever is interpreting it, but for me it speaks to our intrinsic value. Something as great as a divine being loving me is a powerful source of strength and encouragement. However we see the details of the Divine, this kind of recognition and care requires us to be more than we sometimes feel like or think we can be. What a lovely thing to sing to a child. As we end one year and prepare to start the next, my hope is that this reminder serves to encourage us to learn from the past, and prepare for the future with the knowledge of this almighty, loving support.

I heard some good stories from my students this week about their various experiences with the minute of silence on Remembrance Day. Most were pretty funny, involving things that, shall we say, broke the silence. While the stories were accompanied with giggles, they all seemed to know that this moment of reflection was important and that disturbing it, while funny, wasn’t exactly how things should have gone. These stories and reactions are one of the many reasons I like working with children. They see the world with a clarity that is both entertaining and humbling. The songs that have been written for children often do the same.

This song was suggested to me by a friend whose young son was rocking out to it at the time when I asked for hymn suggestions. She also forwarded me a video of the Bruce Springsteen version. I’m pretty sure I haven’t adequately rocked out anything with my version, but working on this was a good reminder of how some songs with such sheer simplicity can catch the attention of a wide range of us – the young, the old, the rockers and the piano players. Music is funny that way. No matter how we try to define, categorize, analyse and understand it, sometimes we just like a tune. And sometimes the words make us think beyond what they were intended for.

This one has an interesting story. There is a sense that it is an old Negro Spiritual, and it does have ties with the Civil Rights Movement in the 1950s and 1960s, but it was originally written as a children’s gospel song by Harry Dixon Loes around 1920. In the late 1930s, John Lomax, a musicologist and folklorist, included it in a collection of American folk songs. Used by activist Zilphia Horton (who also helped transform “We Shall Overcome” into a civil rights anthem) as one of the many hymns that were claimed as songs to forward the movement, it has long been sung by activists to represent the idea of shining brightly for what is right. For refusing to diminish until the task is complete.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

There are several versions of this song, a few variations on the tune and some additional verses. Most are very simple. The version I remember as a child, had a verse that provided a list of daily gifts; ideas to help us through each day.

Monday gave me the gift of love,
Tuesday peace came from above,
Wednesday told me to have more faith,
Thursday gave me a little more grace,
Friday told me to watch and pray,
Saturday told me just what to say,
Sunday gave me the power divine just to let my little light shine.

Challenges abound in our lives. Big ones – like working for the ideals of peace, equality and justice. Small ones – like honouring a silence when we’re trying not to giggle! I’m thankful for the many children I meet each week who are so vibrant. Who provide both entertainment and insight in many ways.   They remind me that even the smallest light can brighten our sometimes gloomy world. So, take the cue and let it shine!

Several weeks ago, I found myself with a free afternoon as most of my piano students had cancelled their lessons. This is not something that happens very often, and it wasn’t a gift of free time. There was a shooting at Canada’s War Memorial and children were stuck in locked down schools or with no bus service to get to my home studio. One young boy did come for his lesson that evening and asked for the door to be locked, just in case the bad guy with the gun was still around. It was a really sad day.

I spent that time working on this hymn. I give it to you today because it is Remembrance Day this week. In the Mennonite Church we recognize this Sunday as Peace Sunday. I think we all abhor violence. I think we all long for peace. Events like this make me wonder if it will ever be achieved. Events like this remind me that I am incredibly fortunate to live in a place where this single act is a rarity. There are many places in the world where this would be a common occurrence. The location of the shooting at our War Memorial reminds me of the many wars throughout history and those that rage now. So many complicated thoughts emerge; difficult emotions, reactions and prayers.

A friend of mine mentioned that this was a favourite and meaningful hymn. In thinking about war, violence and peace, I was struck by these words.

There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,
Like the wideness of the sea;
There’s a kindness in His justice,
Which is more than liberty.

We certainly all need mercy. To be recipients of mercy that is as wide as the sea is almost too great a gift to contemplate. Are we able to be that compassionate in return? We all have a role in shaping the world we live in. When we demand justice are we capable of doing it in kindness? I’m not sure I often think in those terms. I am also impressed by the idea that justice isn’t merely about liberty. We hear a lot about fighting for freedom and ensuring that all are free. Admirable sentiments, but justice is more than that. Justice is complicated when freedom for one means chains for another.

But we make God’s love too narrow
By false limits of our own;
And we magnify its strictness
With a zeal God will not own.

As in many hymn texts, the writer of these words (Frederick Faber, 1814-1863) directs us to the immensity of God. It is our humanness that makes God small; that tries to claim definitions of justice, mercy – rules and regulations. The impact on our world, as a result, has been great. Many acts of violence and discrimination have been done in the name of a small, humanly constructed God. When we consider peace and justice, it is my hope that we do so from the perspective of the wideness of God’s mercy and love, not the limits of our own understanding. The mercy is for us all. Because we all need it.