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‘Praise the Lord, we are a musical nation’, declares the Reverend Eli Jenkins in the classic Dylan Thomas play Under Milk Wood. His words will doubtless be echoed across Wales on this St.David’s Day, and in exiled communities around the world.

Whether it’s through male voice choirs, traditional folk or alternative rock; in eisteddfod competitions, hymn singing festivals or merry nights in local pubs, the legend of Wales as The Land of Song lives on.

Quite what that sixth century Pembrokeshire monk who drank only water would make of it all we can only guess. He’d certainly have been familiar with the music of worship: even the most austere could share in celebrating God’s goodness and love expressed in Jesus.

But sometimes the singing needs to pause. Addressing what he saw as an unjust society, the Old Testament prophet Amos offers a rebuke in the name of God: ‘Stop your noisy songs’ and then (maybe more shockingly for any time of honouring much-loved Welsh traditions) ‘I do not want to listen to your harps.’

It's not an objection to the music, of course, but to the failure to remedy what the prophet saw clearly – the poor oppressed, good people persecuted and courts corrupted, with the cleverest policy keeping quiet about it all. It has a disconcerting familiarity for our own day. In an uncertain world, we too can find it easier to turn away from uncomfortable realities, sheltering behind, say, thrilling sport, glorious music or the most exciting religious worship. Any of them can keep us from what’s required: in the prophet’s words, ’let justice flow like a stream, and righteousness like a river that never runs dry.’

David’s response to that call produced a passion to see right done, to share his message and establish worshipping communities offering hope and refuge.

That quest for a just and compassionate society today is shared here, as elsewhere, by people of all faiths and none. The churches, once central, have lived much of the past century with accelerating numerical decline and now widely perceived irrelevance. Yet the service and practical care they offer in countless communities continues to tell a different story.

I think it has to do with roots. The poet Gwenallt wrote of David and other early saints as ‘our oldest ancestors, who built Wales on the foundation of the cradle, the cross and the empty grave.’ They served people where they were. And they went on pointing to Jesus. Hence David’s farewell message. ‘Be joyful, keep your faith, and do the little things you have heard and seen from me.’
Musical nation or no, for me, that’s definitely something to sing about.

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