Dear Hymnal Commission:

I love you. I am grateful for all the hard work and hard decisions you made. You have taken some chances that pay off, found music that is amazing, fixed troubling texts.

And yes, your choices to shift some of the language in this carol was not unfounded, based on the much needed rubric of gender and empire.

And.

Given that “Lord” appears elsewhere in our hymns, and our theologies tend to agree that Jesus was male-identified, I’m not sure this was the right place to mess with a deeply familiar lyric. Verses one and two are in tact, but look at verse three:

Silent night, holy night,
all is calm, all is bright
round yon virgin mother and child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night,
shepherds quake at the sight,
glories stream from heaven afar,
heavenly hosts sing “Alleluia,”
sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night,
child of God, love’s pure light
radiant beams from thy holy face,
with the dawn of redeeming grace,
sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

In case you forgot, the third verse in the original translation goes like this:

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love’s pure light,
radiant beams from thy holy face
with the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!
Jesus Lord, at thy birth!

The whole “Lord at thy birth” thing goes along with the “redeeming grace” thing…removing one and not the other, to me, weakens the theology.

Now you might say “why are you quibbling over a translation? And you’d be right to point out that this is just a translation, from the German (we’ll talk more about that tomorrow). But the long-held English translation of verses 1 and 3, by 19th century Anglican minister John Freeman Young, is both familiar and beloved. (According to Hymnary.org, the translator of verse 2 is unknown, but was apparently in common usage by the time Young got his hands on it.) And when it comes to Christmas, I lean toward the familiar and beloved.

I love this hymn. I love its simplicity. I even love its original English words, empire and all. I love using it at the end of a Christmas Eve service, with candlelight, people mostly singing from memory, lost in the holy and sacred for just a moment.

 

Remember how I said some of the music in Singing the Living Tradition was not for congregational singing?

Welcome to this beauty. Its complex lyric by E.E. Cummings, and its complex composition by Vincent Persichetti, make this an amazing piece for a soloist. Like the one from folk duo River’s Voice:

This is haunting and beautiful – capturing (as Cummings often does) the mystery of the moment:

purer than purest pure
whisper of whisper so,
so (big with innocence)
forgivingly a once of eager glory,
no more miracle may grow

childfully serious flower of holiness
a pilgrim from beyond,
beyond, beyond, the future,
immediate like new,
like some newly remembered dream

flaming a coolly bell touches most mere
until (eternally) with (now) with (now)
with luminous the shadow of love himself:
who’s we — nor can you die or i

and every world,
before silence begins a star.

Amen.

I admit that before finding that video, I awkwardly plunked out this melody and wondered what Perischetti had done to us. But hearing the version above, I found myself connecting to it in an instinctive way and now can’t get it out of my head.

Again, this is a solo piece. I’m sure it’s been baffling to many over the years, but I am grateful we have it in our collection.

Almost makes me okay with this deep dive into Christmas music.

Almost.

—

Painting by EE Cummings

I may be burning out on Christmas songs.

How do I know? Because normally, this is a favorite hymn tune, but this morning when started singing, I felt like I was dying a little inside.

Of course, this is how I feel every Christmas season, when we are bombarded with this music nonstop for weeks and weeks. I do my very best to limit my exposure to Christmas music before December 15th to stores I can’t avoid, rehearsals, and concerts I’m singing in. Otherwise, it is all just too much for me. I’m sure some of this is feeling the weight of loss at this time of year – Dad, whose birthday was the 23rd of December, died a week before Christmas; Mom died around Thanksgiving. December is a hard month, but one I manage carefully, both by intake and by leaning into the liturgical season of Advent and its wide scope of meaning.

I probably overestimated my ability to tolerate Christmas in spring, because of the limited scope of this practice. But it’s really killing me today. I just don’t have it in me to talk about the lyrics (which the Hymnal Commission attributes to “Composite” – a note I might have guffawed at in my kitchen)… or even this beloved medieval tune.

So … this is a day when the spiritual practice is more of a grind (it happens)… and here’s a prayer the rest of the Christmas songs don’t keep beating me down the way this one is today.

Anyway, here are the lyrics, and afterwards, I’ll drop in a couple of YouTube links to the music.

On this day everywhere
children’s songs fill the air,
greet the child, new and fair,
Christmas gift so holy,
born in stable lowly.

(Chorus)
Ideo-o-o. Ideo-o-o.
Ideo gloria in excelsis Deo!

Sweet the babe, strange his bed,
manger hay round his head,
cattle there in the shed;
Mary, Joseph by him,
shepherds drawing nigh him.

(Chorus)

Magi three find their way
by a star’s shining ray
to the child in the hay;
give their wondrous presents,
gold and myrrh and incense.

(Chorus)

Here’s a version of the tune (different lyrics, in Latin) that reflects the arrangement we have:

And here’s a version set by the master, John Rutter; it’s the version I first learned:

You can find lots of other versions on YouTube – I found a bunch set with guitar, mandolin, and other stringed instruments.

So you know how yesterday I said I was coming up on the halfway point of this practice? I was at the halfway point three days ago! Can you believe it – I’ve gone through half the hymns already. What a wonderful gift it’s been so far, from the intimate spiritual practice I take up each morning and what that does for me ( a lot), to the knowledge I’ve been gaining about our hymns and hymnody (a lot), and the new friends I’ve made along the way (a lot!). And now, on to today’s hymn.

We have today another of our twofers – same lyrics set to different tunes. I wondered – indeed I did – why we have two tunes for this one, and I wondered if the Hymnal Commission was offering a familiar lyric as an object lesson on hymnody (and I’m certainly here for that). But in searching quickly for the original lyrics (by Episcopal minister Phillip Brooks) that we all know and love (more on that in a moment), I learned that the tune, by his organist, Lewis Redner, was quickly written for a Sunday morning, and as he noted later, “Neither Mr. Brooks nor I ever thought the carol or the music to it would live beyond that Christmas of 1868.” And while we are familiar with that tune (St Louis) here in the US, in the UK (and often, in American Episcopal churches), the words are sung to Ralph Vaughan WIlliams’ Forest Green (which we’ve already sung three times).

Which I find a little odd – the lyrics, to me, don’t imply a cheerful, bouncy air. They have always seemed like a lullaby lyric, with its emphasis on dark streets, deep sleep, silent nights, and mortals sleeping. Thus I prefer the hastily written original.

But now, on to the lyrics.

From our Christmas albums, we learned the original verses as follows (thanks again to Hymnary):

O little town of Bethlehem,  how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;
the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above,
while mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars, together proclaim the holy birth,
and praises sing to God the King, and peace to all on earth.

How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive him still the dear Christ enters in.

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray.
Cast out our sin and enter in; be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel.

I’m not a fan of a theology that centers “Jesus died for our sins”, especially when you consider that lets you ignore the man’s incredible ministry and message. In fact I think it’s wrong theology, and at the very least, it’s the wrong theology to be pushing at Christmastime.

And while I am always brought up short when we have rewritten lyrics, I was willing to compare, hoping these changes were not too conciliatory, attempting to make Christmas accessible to all. Now that’s not a bad thing, but sometimes we miss the point of a song when we tinker too much. I worried that we had taken the Christianity out of this carol, and by god, we need some good Christian Christmas Carols!

And this one isn’t a good Christian Christmas Carol.

I mean, look at the lyrics above – really look at them. The first two verses are fine – and our minor adjustment removes that tricky Empire stuff. But verses three and four of the original….blech.

So now let’s look at our verses, with really just a few lyric changes:

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by;
yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light;
the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above,
while mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars, together proclaim the holy birth.
Let praises ring: from God they bring goodwill to all on earth.

How silently, how silently the wonder is made known,
when God imparts to human hearts the gift that is our own.
No ear may hear that coming, but in this worldly din,
when souls are truly humble, then the dear babe rests within.

Now we have removed empire, AND we have refocused on what the message really is. Sure, it’s not exactly Phillip Brooks’ message, but heck, he’s a 19th century Episcopalian and surely won’t notice. But I think the correction we’ve got here actually makes it a more Christian message. The one we should be singing on Christmas.

—

Two quick postscripts:

First, sorry for the delay – feline complications. (She’s old and things get weird sometimes.)

Second, the photo is of modern-day Bethlehem.

As I continue this practice (and actually find myself nearing the halfway point), I have become overall less critical of the Hymnal Commission that put together Singing the Living Tradition. I’ve grown to understand the reasons for decisions they were making at the time, even if we judge by different standards 25 years later.

(You were expecting a “but” here, right? So was I. I was three quarters of a way through an argument against the rewritten lyrics we have… and in the writing got turned around. So here’s my train of thought, beginning with a firm No on our adjusted lyrics.)

Here’s my problem: because the ones who decide these things realized that there’s no other place in the Christian liturgical calendar to examine the second coming of Christ, they plop readings from the Book of Revelation and other apocalyptic texts into these few weeks between Christmas Eve and Epiphany. Thus, the season is as much about the first coming as the second coming.

And the second coming, for those who aren’t hip to this stuff, is about predicting when the Messiah will come back to earth to rule as sovereign over all, to bring heaven back to earth, to build a new Eden. This is about the kingdom of heaven and the sovereignty of Christ.

Joy to the World, as we know it from our family Christmas albums, is very much about that moment. NOT about the birth of the baby, but about the return of the savior. Here are the familiar lyrics:

Joy to the world! the Lord is come: let earth receive her King.
Let every heart prepare him room,
and heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing,
and heaven, and heaven and nature sing.

Joy to the earth! the Savior reigns: let men their songs employ,
while fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
repeat the sounding joy, repeat the sounding joy,
repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sin and sorrow grow nor thorns infest the ground;
he comes to make his blessings flow
far as the curse is found, far as the curse is found,
far as, far as the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace, and makes the nations prove
the glories of his righteousness
and wonders of his love, and wonders of his love,
and wonders, wonders of his love.

In other words, “it’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.”

And so, I do have some appreciation for the Hymnal Commission’s attempts to remove the language of Empire – rulership, lordship, sovereignty, etc. – because in general, it’s a bad thing and has led to millennia of bad behavior. You see, the language of Empire turns some people into other/foreigners/unsavory/worthy of subjugation; and while it’s rife in the Bible, we often can understand that language as reaction to political events on the ground (because let’s face it, the Israelites and Judeans had a lot of problems being oppressed and/or exiled by other nations)… and we can see that stopping that chest-beating in our modern language helps build bridges between our divisions.

All that being said, this entire song is about the idea that (Revelation 21:3b) “He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them” means sovereignty and rulership.

And here’s the moment when I get turned around on this one.

You see, I was all set to finish up the argument saying “this second coming business is what the song means and that’s how we understand the second coming, this whole ruling the world stuff.” And then I read that entire passage from Revelation and realized that “they will be his peoples” is the only line in this passage that has any hint of empire – and that may not be what this means at all.

We have had centuries of interpretation that say the second coming will be Jesus Christ the King ruling over all that we forgot to look back at the text. He won’t rule over them, he’ll dwell with them.

Wow.

So… here are our adjusted lyrics, given that frame:

Joy to the world! The Word is come:
let earth with praises ring.
Let every heart prepare a room,
and heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing,
and heaven, and heaven and nature sing.

Joy to the earth! Now gladness reigns:
let hearts their songs employ,
while fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
repeat the sounding joy, repeat the sounding joy,
repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
nor thorns infest the ground.
Let righteousness its glories show
as far as love is found, as far as love is found,
as far, as far, as love is found.

Suddenly that feels a LOT closer to the Revelation passage, as well as Psalm 98, which the lyric’s based on, and Psalm 8, which is often paired with the Revelation text in the lectionary.

So yeah.

And.

This still isn’t a Christmas song.

I need to begin by noting with sadness that Jim Key, former moderator of the UUA Board of Trustees, who resigned his position a few weeks ago due to health issues, has passed away. I note it because what was going to be a righteous “we actually do rock” declaration now seems frivolous and less important today.

I know that life does not stop when someone dies. I know that the work must continue, especially when that someone has been a champion of equal rights. But while life does not stop, it often must pause. And so we pause today for Jim Key, and send prayers of comfort and love to his family and close friends.

—

As I am not necessarily feeling the impetus to write much, I will instead say simply that it’s nice when a famous song is written by one of ours (Unitarian minister Edmund Hamilton Sears)…. and because of that, the lyrics are nearly intact (just the “good will to men” wisely changed to “to all good will”).

Here are the lyrics, and then instead of typing what Jacqui James wrote about the carol (which was to be the impetus for my cheering declaration), I’ll share a screenshot and link to the source.

It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old,
from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold:
“Peace on the earth, to all good will, from heaven the news we bring.”
The world in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come, with peaceful wings unfurled;
and still their heavenly music floats o’er all the weary world.
Above its sad and lowly plains they bend on hovering wing;
and ever o’er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing.

But with the woes of war and strife the world has suffered long;
beneath the angel-strain have rolled two thousand years of wrong;
and we who fight the wars hear not the love song which they bring.
O hush the noise of battle strife, and hear the angels sing.

For, lo! the days are hastening on by prophet bards foretold,
when with the ever-circling years comes round the age of gold:
when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling,
and the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing.

I should note one more thing, and that’s the first line. I always sang it as a kid as “it came upon A midnight clear” but the original is “THE midnight clear.” Interesting semantic difference there.

Anyway, here’s the informative snippet from Between the Lines – a fascinating insight into both the lyrics and tune:

This is a sweet little carol, which I have used for the children’s message at Christmas.

It’s earthy, it’s sweet, it’s an old French carol set to an old French melody. It works. And for kids, it is a creative way to enter the story of the nativity, especially if you have a crèche with these animals in it.

Jesus, our, brother, kind and good,
was humbly born in a stable rude,
and the friendly beasts around him stood,
Jesus, our brother, kind and good.

“I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown,
“I carried his mother uphill and down,
I carried her safely to Bethlehem town;
I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

“I,” said the cow, all white and red,
“I gave him my manger for his bed,
I gave him hay to pillow his head;
I,” said the cow, all white and red.

“I,” said the sheep with curly horn,
“I gave him my wool for his blanket warm,
he wore my coat on Christmas morn;
I,” said the sheep with curly horn.

“I,” said the dove, from the rafters high,
“I cooed him to sleep that he should not cry,
we cooed him to sleep, my mate and I;
I,” said the dove, from the rafters high.

And all the beasts, by some good spell,
in the stable dark were glad to tell
of the gifts they gave Emmanuel,
the gifts they gave Emmanuel.

I’m sorry I don’t have much  more to say about this one this morning – it neither repels nor inspires.  It is just a sweet little carol.