The music of Grace
“We live in a world in which we need to share responsibility. It’s easy to say, ‘It’s not my child, not my community, not my world, not my problem.’ Then there are those who see the need and respond. I consider those people my heroes.” Thank you, Fred Rogers. I can tell you that I needed to hear Mr. Rogers’ voice today—as a reassurance, and as an invitation.
And I say, “Amen.” And thank you to the heroes. Ordinary men and women in everyday walks of life, saying “No” to cruelty, and “Yes” to mercy and compassion.
Speaking of heroes, in 1942, the Nazis were actively and forcefully rounding up Jews in France. In the picturesque farming village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon (in southern France), Reformed Church minister Andre Trocme inspired an entire village to change lives. And, as it turns out, the world in which we live.
Each of the citizens of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon voluntarily risked their lives to hide Jews–in homes, on farms, and in public buildings; Jews who were being rounded up by the Nazi SS for shipment to the death camps. (It is said that there was not a single home in the village that did not shelter a Jewish family.) Le Chambon-sur-Lignon became known as the “City of Refuge.”
Whenever Nazi patrols searched the village, the Jews were sent, surreptitiously, out into the woodland countryside. One of the villagers recalled, “As soon as the soldiers left, we would go into the forest and sing a song. When they heard that song, the Jews knew it was safe to come home.”
Can you imagine the feeling when you heard the song?
This I do know: we feel it in our bodies before we have the right words for it.
It is estimated that as many as five thousand lives were saved—many given passage to Switzerland. One reason for this display of compassion? These French villagers were descendants from the persecuted Protestant Huguenots. Their own history of persecution connected them to the plight of the Jewish people hiding in their homes.
Perhaps that is true, I do not know. I only know that for whatever reason, the villagers chose to speak (yes, to “sing”) out. They chose compassion.
And the rest, well, the rest is history.
Three things about this story struck me.
One, the extraordinary power of compassion (and the courage to practice compassion in a world that places a premium on power and control).
Two, compassion is born in the soil of vulnerability, humility and the awareness that we are all—every single one of us—connected.
Three, the power of love and music to bring each and every one of us, home. Home: the place where we are given value, and love, and dignity, and from that place, value, love and dignity spill to the world around us.
I can hear Mr. Rogers’ voice again, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”
What song did the villagers—the “helpers”—sing?
What kind of music represents freedom and safety and well-being and home?
Or maybe it’s not that important. The song, I mean. (Although I’m torn between a Mozart Requiem and Led Zepplin’s, Stairway to Heaven. Or Grateful Dead’s, Ripple.) There is no denying our knee-jerk need to figure it out. But maybe, just maybe, the song is compassion. Plain and simple.
Whatever it is, the song brings people out of hiding, out of unease, and out of fear. The song invites courage and renewal and resilience.
We heard that loud and clear during the Buddhist monks Walk for Peace, in the music that was born in their walk, including this tribute.
As Pope Leo reminded us all. “Caring for others is ‘the supreme law’ that comes before society’s rules.”
And caring for others, well, that is music worth singing. And it is the music of Grace.
Sadly, we too easily bury the music of Grace in rhetoric.
We bury the music of Grace in the need to be right.
We bury the music of Grace in the need to win.
Okay, let’s get back to our villagers and the song.
Everyone knows what it means to be afraid, or at risk, or at wits end, or without hope, or discombobulated, or fragmented, or tuckered out. More than ever, we need refuge; safe places for sanity and restoration.
This week I watched a heartwarming video honoring Sir Nicholas Winton, who saved 669 children from Nazi death camps, and it was said of him, “He knows about value. The value of life.”
Yes. There is no label that can diminish or remove a person’s dignity, or value.
And this we know to be true: our values—kindness, humility, compassion, interior simplicity, and mercy—tether us.
And we are reminded of them when we hear the song that invites us home.
Here’s the good news: our story doesn’t stop when we hear the song. We leave different than when we came in. Now we sing it to others. The song gives us the power to change the paradigm (or narrative). And the song always invites people home to safety.
Songs for those afraid. And for those “in hiding”—emotional or physical. Songs for those who have an ability to be a safe place. And a place of healing—emotionally and physically—for those in need.
I cannot tell you what song will bring you out of hiding. But I can tell you this: you have one.
Count on it.
And if you sit still, you may hear it. Really.
It is the “song” that reminds us we are beautiful, when we feel ugly.
It is the song that embraces your dignity, when you are demeaned or battered.
It is the song that tells us we are whole, when we feel broken.
It is the song that gives us the power to literally give a damn (on those days when we feel done in), and to stand up to cruelty.
Whatever it is, the song brings people out of hiding, out of unease and out of fear.
Let’s be honest, if we say yes to a song of Grace, there is a price tag. So. This Sabbath Moment is a homily directed at the man I see in my mirror. Because for much of my life, it’s been easier to “avert my eyes” and not ruffle any feathers. And now I know that to pretend otherwise or to look the other way would be nothing short of cowardice. I am grateful for this today from Maria Shriver, “You don’t have to redesign your entire life today. But we do all have to begin paying attention to what it is asking of us now. This is not a time to be asleep, to tune out, or to be complacent.”
Later this week, I’m on my way to Anaheim, CA to the Religious Education Congress, where thousands gather to find replenishment. My topic, “Look for the helpers.” I’ll see some of you there.
I am writing this on Transfiguration Sunday, a moment that bridges the season of Epiphany, and our journey into Lent.
Quote for your week…
“Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world… would do this, it would change the earth.” William Faulkner
I am so very grateful that you are a part of Sabbath Moment. And grateful for the support that makes it possible. Please, pass Sabbath Moment on to friends. And invite them to join us. My email address tdh@terryhershey.com
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Terry, Let us face the light. Blessings!”
Madeleine Gallagher (Paso Robles, CA).. Thank you Madeleine… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to tdh@terryhershey.com
Yes, your gift makes a difference… Donation = Love…
Help make Sabbath Moment possible. I write SM because I want to live with a soft heart; to create a place for sanctuary, empathy, inclusion, compassion and kindness… a space where we are refueled to make a difference. SM remains free.
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POEMS AND PRAYERS
May I be free from resentment and conflict.
May I be free from physical suffering.
May I be free from mental suffering.
May I be free from danger,
and may my body and mind be at peace.
May all beings be free from resentment and conflict.
May all beings be free from physical suffering.
May all beings be free from mental suffering.
May all beings be free from danger, and may their bodies and minds be at peace.
Walk for Peace
May every nation live in safety, stability and dignity free from fear, chaos and unnecessary suffering.
May every person be heard, respected and protected regardless of race, their background, faith or the language that they speak.
May fear be replaced by understanding and may misunderstanding never again become a reason for violence.
May hatred be transformed into compassion so pain is met with care instead of blame.
May peace exist not only in words and speeches but in laws, policies, communities and daily life.
May true strength be measured not by control, force or weapons, but by how we protect one another, especially our children and the vulnerable.
May progress always walk together with morality and may growth never be built on human suffering.
May dialogue be chosen over confrontation and listening over judgment in families, societies and nations.
May people find peace within their own hearts so that the world no longer needs violence to survive.
May the path to peace require no enemies, but only human beings returning to morality, to responsibility and to one another.
Last but not least, remember every morning to write down what we’ve talked about…..”Today is going to be my peaceful day.”
Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara’s closing prayer February 11, 2026, at the Lincoln Memorial
Music for the Soul…
New–
Everyday People — feat. Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, Keb’ Mo’, Playing For Change
