What's in a name?

Who is Caedmon and what is he singing?

Have you ever been at a party and the quiet one in the corner? Or at karaoke and determined never to take the microphone? Well Caedmon was your man. He knew what he was about and it wasn't words, music or singing, but he is famous from centuries ago in the northern part of the country, and now around the world (if you are into the right kind of poetry, music or have been to Whitby I guess) for speaking out the first recorded poem in the English language.

It seemed to come from nowhere, maybe more like spitting a bar, or expressing something from his soul. And so it seemed to be like an angel speaking directly through him - it was hard to fathom an uneducated cowherd would be able to shape words in such a beautiful way. Prejudice is not a new thing.

He sang of the beauty found in the world around and how God is seen. He sang of what he knew in other words and it came out in a formed and beautiful manner as if he was able to make it so. And it surprised many, and Caedmon went on to become part of a the monastery and a legend, and his song the stuff of many a tea towel and, eventually, university syllabus.

He is himself the patron saint in many ways of others who promise little and deliver much - an artistic cliché through the Pitmen Painters to the work of Ken Loach and others - who have done much to raise up the voices of those in marginal spaces who create and release beauty. The edge spaces that sing: it is also a beautiful truth.

Caedmon was asked to sing and he did not want to. But the song was in him, and then it was out for all to hear. I wonder why he was reluctant? I wonder if he was concerned that he would fail? Or worse, that he would not be listened to even if his song was wonderful? Maybe he had tried to sing long ago and the song had not been good, or someone had told him it was different? This is speculation, as his song is recorded as a beautiful and wonderful poem that now teaches us how to understand the rhythms, repititions and imagery of early English poetry. He sets the pattern.

I heard Caedmon's song in Whitby when I was quite young. I am from these places. I also resonate with Hilda who led the Abbey at Whitby and the gifts of study she represents, but also with the restrictions of being asked not to speak, and standing with those who cannot. Where are those voices? Where is my voice that does not speak?

Perhaps we can also learn to make the simple ask too - will you speak up and create? To the thousands of Caedmons who are around us all. Unless we do they may remain silent. And we are all the worse off.

So, will you sing your song today, and find beauty and make it?