Speaking of heroes…

 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. 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 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.

Sabbath Moments