Let Your Song Be Sung

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, October 12th, 2025:
Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Psalm 98​

R. The Lord has revealed his victory in the sight of the nations.

O sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvellous things. His right hand and his holy arm have brought him victory. 

R. The Lord has revealed his victory in the sight of the nations.

The Lord has made known his victory; he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations. He has remembered his stead-fast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. 

R. The Lord has revealed his victory in the sight of the nations.

All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God. Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. 

R. The Lord has revealed his victory in the sight of the nations.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

When I was first invited to join the Ora team, I needed to offer a little bio for our team page. Reading through the others’, I saw that many wrote of their first encounter with the faith, or their earliest memory. So I shared my earliest memory: lying in my bed, probably about four years old, worrying about the song we’d sung in Mass that day.
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(Sing it with me; you know it.)

Sing a neeeew song unto the Lord.
Let your sooong be sung from mountains high!
Sing a neeeew song unto the Lord.
Singing aaaalleluuuuuia!

I took this very literally, and very seriously. To my undeveloped brain, this meant I was under strict instructions to find a way to “Alleluia” that God had never heard before. So I mixed and matched my "ahs" and "leys" and "loos" and "las" until I was reasonably satisfied that God had appreciated my innovation and I could fall asleep.

Singing has always been a big part of my worship, and it’s the way I think most people can experience transcendence. As I was thinking about this reflection, I thought of the best moments when a shared song transcended something like language, cultures, and politics.

There’s the famous story of soldiers in opposing trenches of World War I coming together in peace to sing “O Come All Ye Faithful” on Christmas Eve. And I fondly remember a moment on a high school band trip to Cuba, where all the awkwardness and standoffishness between the Canadian and Cuban teens disappeared with one rousing (and complete) rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

At the time of writing, we just had the funeral Mass for Deacon Danny, a beloved deacon and my long-time colleague. Danny was both very musical and deeply faithful. Leading praise and worship songs with his guitar and tenor voice was a great gift of his. He always enlivened work prayer times and brought the Spirit into our gatherings.

Which is why the most powerful moment of his funeral was the opening hymn. Whoever selected the music chose perfectly. The musicians began the well-known classic “Here I am, Lord” and instantly everybody, and I mean everybody, was singing with them. No hymnals, no lyrics printed in the program. No humming along until the chorus. For those couple of minutes, we were 600 voices as one, giving it everything we had. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen, or heard, anything quite like it. As sorrowful as I was for Danny’s passing, that moment could not have brought me more joy. I have no doubt Deacon Danny got a kick out of it, too.
As my wise aunt always says, Scripture tells us to make a joyful noise, not a nice noise. You don’t have to sing a brand-new song like preschool Kate, or even carry a tune. But when you get a chance to sing along with others, I encourage you to swallow your embarrassment and join in. I think, in its little way, it can really bring Heaven to Earth.




Kate Plumb

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