This is a beautiful hymn.

The tune is just lovely, and I have heard dozens of lush arrangements. And sure, unless you grew up with this hymnal, this is not the version you know. But the good news is that according to Hymnary, pretty much every denomination has changed the words of Christina Rossetti’s poem, so we’ve got that going for us.

Here’s her original:

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

In the bleak midwinter frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone,
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter long ago.

Christ a homeless stranger, so the gospels say,
cradled in a manger and a bed of hay;
in the bleak midwinter, stable-place sufficed
Mary and her baby, Jesus Christ.

Once more child and mother weave their magic spell,
touching hearts with wonder words can never tell;
in the bleak midwinter, in this world of pain,
where our hearts are open love is born again.

And here’s a question: what happens if every now and then we DO give our hearts to that which we know to be Divine? Why are we so adamant about keeping control, which limits God and limits Love?

In my ordination, I was certain to include a poem by Edward Hays that includes these words:

I tremble at the thought
of you consuming those things that I love
and even my prized image of who I am.

Yet, I also want to know you more fully;
help me to embrace the awesome implications
of my inviting you to enter my life.

What happens when we actually open ourselves to love, giving our hearts to someone or something that would teach us compassion, expansiveness, righteousness, forgiveness? I think Unitarian Universalists sometimes sell that which some  call the Spirit of Life really short, and we don’t do anything to shift our thinking.

Rossetti’s poem asks us to not sell ourselves short – and not to sell the expansive, healing Love that Jesus’ birth signifies short either. Love, healing, forgiveness, creativity, energy, curiosity, generosity, compassion – it’s all there if we let go of our prized images of who we are.

Whether you believe in the Divinity of Christ or just appreciate the teachings that remain, we are being asked to open ourselves up to those gifts. You don’t even have to open up specifically to Jesus, or God, but just be open to all that is.

What can we give in return? Our hearts.

As Hays concludes in his poem,

Enlarge my half-hearted love
with the ageless truth
that if I seek your kingdom first,
seek to be fully possessed by you,
everything I need shall be given me,
and happiness beyond my wildest dreams
shall be mine.

Amen.

What a beautiful, bittersweet song. And, as you’ll see, somewhat appropriate for today, Memorial Day.

It is one of my go-to carols when I am feeling especially sad about the death of my own father, Richard, whose birthday was December 23 and who died on December 17, 1984. When it’s hard to remember the joy of Christmas, this carol reminds me that it’s okay to feel sad, to feel angry at the world, to recognize the complexities of life…and to still hold out hope for peace and joy.

It’s such a Universalist sentiment, reflected by a Unitarian – our more famous Longfellow, Henry. (This tells me that while the journey toward consolidation was a long one, they were at least singing from the same songbook for generations.)

This poem is witness to Longfellow’s personal loss and despair: In 1861, his wife tragically died in a fire. Then in 1863,  his oldest son, Charles, joined the Union cause as a soldier without his father’s blessing. Longfellow was informed by a letter dated March 14, 1863, after Charles had left; just a few months later, Charles was wounded in battle. That Christmas, Longfellow wrote the poem that became our beloved lyric:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day their old familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet the words repeat of peace on earth, to all good will.

I thought how, as the day had come, the belfries of all Christendom
had rolled along the unbroken song of peace on earth, to all good will.

And in despair I bowed my head: “There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“for hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, to all good will.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth God sleep;
the wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on earth, to all good will.”

Till, ringing, singing on its way, the world revolved from day to day,
a voice, a chime, a chant sublime of peace on earth, to all good will.

A couple of lyric notes: first, our Hymnal Commission changed “peace on earth, good will to men” in an affirmative nod to gender inclusivity. It feels unfamiliar but I’m glad they did it. Second, there are a couple of verses of Longfellow’s poems we never sing, which refer directly to the war, and which are more than reasonable omissions (and have been since this was first set to music).

And now, on to the music.

If your childhood was filled with Christmas albums, the melody you are probably most familiar with is that of Johnny Marks – a version performed by Bing Crosby, Ed Ames, Harry Belafonte, The Carpenters, Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, Burl Ives, Sarah McLachlan, Frank Sinatra, Kate Smith, and others.  Here’s the one I hear in my head, from Ed Ames:

If you sang it in church, you might have sung it to the Waltham tune, sung here by the Heritage Choral of UMKC:

I had never heard it set to Herongate before, yet that’s the setting we have in STLT. Here’s the tune:

It’s beautiful in this setting, for sure. I’m not sure why the shift, when this is not the more familiar tunes, but I do like it. It’s just a surprise when you get to the page and open your mouth and the notes don’t go on the page where you expect. Especially before coffee.

Anyway – since those, there have also been other arrangements of this moving lyric.

It’s an amazing poem, and I am glad it is in our pantheon.

So this is weird.

I know a verse of this song so well that when I started singing this morning and saw it wasn’t there, I got annoyed. It’s the one that goes

When I was a sinner, I prayed both night and day
I asked the Lord to help me, and he showed me the way

Yet when I looked, well, pretty much everywhere, that verse isn’t a real verse to this song.  It shows up in some campfire song compilations, but nobody in the hymnody business thinks that is real.

What they do think is real is the lyrics below, which we carry unabridged:

(Chorus)
Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and ev’rywhere;
go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born!

While shepherds kept their watching o’er silent flocks by night,
behold throughout the heavens there shone a holy light.

(Chorus)

The shepherds feared and trembled when lo! above the earth rang out
the angel chorus that hailed the baby’s birth.

(Chorus)

Down in a lowly manger the humble babe was born,
and God sent us salvation that blessed Christmas morn.

(Chorus)

What we know about this carol is that it predates 1865 but was first written down then by John Wesley, Jr. who, like others (including Unitarian minister and fierce abolitionist Thomas Wentworth Higginson) collected the rich music of the enslaved peoples in the south.

I will admit this isn’t one of my favorites, but it certainly has its place in our canon.

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I also have to admit that I kinda wrote another chorus to it, just for today:

Go tell it on the mountain,
over the Sound and ’round the bend
Go tell it on the mountain
That Kimberley’s a reverend.

Okay, it doesn’t quite scan, but you get the picture…

Oh my goodness.

It’s the morning of my ordination. Just think – tomorrow, you’ll be reading the words of The REVEREND Kimberley Debus… how about that?

Anyway, on to today’s carol, which is a light little lyric set to a light little tune. I spoke about the tune back in February, where I found it odd to have this tune connected to words celebrating Kwanzaa; here, however, it seems appropriate – with a thought that this might be the original lyric.

It’s not an earth-shattering lyric by any stretch; if anything, it’s a sweet response to the Sophia Lyon Fahs poem “For So the Children Come.” And it’s definitely a modern UU take on the whole Christmas thing.

Within the shining of a star
we catch a glimpse of who we are;
in every infant born we see
the hope of our nativity.

The miracle of each new birth
can shake and save the stony earth;
triumphantly the newborn’s cry
strikes echoes from the waiting sky.

And to be honest, today, I’m not so much in a mind to soften the whole Christmas thing. That’s not to say I don’t, or won’t, when it comes to the season. But today, in late May, I am more inclined to say we should be honoring the belief of millions of Christians, and surely hundreds of UU Christians, who draw inspiration and meaning from one special birth of one special child.

It’s not my intention to be cynical here, but rather to be more open and affirming rather than conciliatory and diminishing. I think one of the lessons we should be drawing from our inclusion of so many sources is not that they can be watered down or put into a context our most skeptical members find palatable. Rather, the lesson we should be drawing is that in the richness, the unbelievable-ness of story and myth and miracle, lies the meaning. We should be approaching the complexities of our sources with awe and wonder.

And whether it’s December 25 or May 27, I’m always up for some awe and wonder.

I am of two minds this morning (that is, of the minds that are focusing on this and not my ordination tomorrow):

The first mind is so glad this traditional English* hymn is in our hymnal, lyrics unabridged. It’s familiar, it’s fun to sing the chorus, and it has a wonderful focus on the first witnesses to this miracle – the shepherds and the magi. It’s a great “this is how important this birth is – angels talking to shepherds, wise guys… er…wise men traveling from the east – this doesn’t happen every day, yanno. A good, solid, Christmas carol.

The second mind is really glad we only have three verses of it in our hymnal, even if it cuts the magi story a bit short. Because good lord, it’s a fairly dull verse, musically, and after a while the chorus goes from joyful sacred singing to rowdy drinking song.

Here are the first three verses, which are in our hymnal:

The first Nowell the angel did say was to certain poor shepherds, in fields as they lay,
in fields where they lay keeping their sheep, on a cold winter’s night that was so deep.

(Chorus)
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
born is the king of Israel.

They looked up and saw a star, shining in the east beyond them far,
and to the earth it gave great light, and so it continued both day and night.

(Chorus)

And by the light of that same star, three magi came from country far;
to seek a king was their intent, and to follow the star wherever it went.

(Chorus)

For completeness’ sake, here are the next three:

This star drew nigh to the north-west; O’er Bethlehem it took its rest;
And there it did both stop and stay  Right over the place where Jesus lay:

(chorus)

Then entered in those Wise Men three, Full reverently upon their knee,
And offered there in his presence,  Their gold and myrrh and frankincense:

(chorus)

Then let us all with one accord Sing praises to our heavenly Lord
That hath made heaven and earth of nought,  And with his blood mankind hath bought:

Yep. Glad we left it short.

*While it’s thought that this is a translation from the French, the carol’s origins are in Cornwall, in England – “Nowell” is an Early Modern English word for “Christmas” – probably a remnant from the Norman Invasion.  (The image is of St Ives, in Cornwall.)

Regular readers will note that I was excited that this was the title I’d be singing on the day of my ordination. However, I forgot to adjust the spreadsheet for Light of Ages and of Nations and Amazing Grace – two hymns that have identical words but different melodies or arrangements so were covered on the same day. Whoops. Saturday’s hymn is just fine, but not quite the synchronistic moment I thought I was having.

But still, here we go!

O Sanctissima! A carol I barely know and have absolutely no connection to.

Yeah, I know.

Look. We all grew up listening to particular albums full of Christmas music. Our heavy rotation included Nat King Cole, the Boston Pops, Sandler & Young, Ed Ames, Burl Ives, John Denver and the Muppets, and several of the Firestone Christmas albums – particularly Julie Andrews. Oh, and Allan Sherman – because even though there weren’t any Christmas songs, we always needed a break and Sherman’s parodies are a perennial family favorite. But in that rotation, O Sanctissima never showed up, and I don’t remember ever hearing it in church.

So… I don’t really know it, and I never choose it.

It is, on the other hand, actually a joyful Christmas song, unlike the all too often sung Joy to the World, which is actually about the second coming. We’ll talk more about Joy to the World next Saturday – but if you want a joyful song to celebrate the birth of Jesus, here you go:

O thou joyful day, O thou blessed day, gladsome, peaceful Christmas-tide. Earth’s hope awaken, Love life has taken. Joy, O, joy to all at Christmas-tide.
O sanctissima, O sanctissima, gladsome, peaceful Christmas-tide. Light now is beaming, our souls redeeming. Joy, O, joy to all at Christmas-tide.

Happy, joyful, gladsome, Latin. A good song for this gloomy, rainy, too full of hard news day.

We could use a little joy.

O Sanctissima.

This is not the first drinking song to appear in our hymnal. And I’ll wager it won’t be the last. But it may be the most familiar, even if the drinking words were changed.

You see, this is an old Welsh song that was originally sung to bring in the New Year:

The best pleasure on new year’s eve,
Is house and fire and a pleasant family,
A pure heart and brown ale,
A gentle song and the voice of the harp

And before we donned our gay apparel, we would “Fill the meadcup, drain the barrel.” There are also lines about seeing “the flowing bowl before us” and “laughing, quaffing all together.”

The version below, the one many of us probably know best, first appeared in 1862 and were written by Scottish musician Thomas Oliphant. These lyrics celebrate the coming of the season without speaking explicitly about the theological meanings, making it actually a joyful song to sing in Advent, as we prepare for Christmas Day:

Deck the hall with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la.
‘Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la la la la, la la la.
Troll the ancient Yuletide carol, fa la la la la, la la la la.

See the blazing Yule before us, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Strike the harp and join the chorus, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Follow me in merry measure, fa la la la la la, la la la.
While I tell of Yuletide treasure, fa la la la la, la la la la.

Fast away the old year passes, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Hail the new, ye lads and lasses, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Sing we joyous all together, fa la la la la la, la la la.
Heedless of the wind and weather, fa la la la la, la la la la.

One more language note, about “troll” – this is what the Online Etymology Dictionary has to say:

late 14c., “to go about, stroll,” later (early 15c.) “roll from side to side, trundle,” probably from Old French troller, a hunting term, “wander, to go in quest of game without purpose” (Modern French trôler), from a Germanic source (compare Old High German trollen “to walk with short steps”), from Proto-Germanic *truzlanan.

Sense of “sing in a full, rolling voice” (first attested 1570s) and that of “fish with a moving line” (c. 1600) both are extended technical uses from the general sense of “roll, trundle,” the former from “sing in the manner of a catch or round,” the latter perhaps confused with trail or trawl.

So there you have it; we will sing the Yuletide carol in a full, rolling voice… like you would if you were drunk and singing drinking songs.

I rather love the inclusion of this in here – I wasn’t sure at first, but knowing its roots and the joyfulness with which we all still sing it today, its a perfect secular nod to the holy day.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

It’s a day of interesting pairs…

First pair: this is the second time the tune Hasidim has been paired with words by Carl Seaburg.

Second pair: this is frankly an interesting pair, putting a Christmas lyric to a Hasidic tune – which happened in When the Daffodils Arrive too. I’m not entirely certain the Hasidic Jews from Europe would be open to the theological implications… but in some ways it works perfectly. Melodically, it has a touch of celebration and a touch of mystery – which our lyric also contains. Theologically, there’s something about a Jewish song celebrating a Jewish boy’s birth; and while we know this birth is different, the lyrics never proclaim the Messiah or Christ – simply a treasure of faith and a measure of love.

In the gentle of the moon, in the garnet of a star,
feel the presence of a hope where the crowding shepherds are.

Soon the apple tree will bud, and the crimson fruit will fall;
but within the stable shed there’s no thought of that at all.

Touch the treasure of a faith that the mythic Easterns hear.
See the measure of a love come candescent down the air.

Third pair: It’s one of those damn near-rhymes that gets me in singing every time. Look – near rhymes in read or spoken poetry is fine. But in sung poetry, near rhymes are almost more annoying than no rhyme at all. And I’m sorry – while “hear” and “air” are perfectly fine near rhymes on the page, it annoys the crap out of me when sung. I know that some of you will point out beloved songs of mine that also have near rhyme. Fine. This one just really gets me.

Anyway… two cool pairs, one annoying pair… but all in all, a beautiful hymn. The lyrics are gorgeous, the tune is beautiful, and the mystery is present.

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Note: there appears to be some sort of problem posting images this morning. I’ll get one up when it stops being obstinate.

I suppose some Christmas carols shouldn’t be interrogated too deeply…

…because otherwise we would never get past the first line. I mean, who are Jeannette and Isabella, why are there French women (or girls) in Bethlehem, and what good will a torch be if Mary’s trying to get the baby to sleep?

Yeah, let’s let all of that go, and celebrate this sweet, light French carol – a 17th century folk song from Provence. The song remains an important part of Christmas Eve celebrations in the Provence region, where children dress up as shepherds and milkmaids, carrying torches and candles to Midnight Mass while singing this carol.

Un flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle,
un flambeau, courons au berceau!
C’est Jésus, bonnes gens du hameau,
le Christ est né, Marie appelle,
Ah! Ah! Ah! Que la mère est belle,
Ah! Ah! Ah! que l’Enfant est beau!

Bring a torch, Jeannette, Isabella,
bring a torch and quickly run.
Christ is born, good folk of the village,
Christ is born and Mary’s calling,
Ah! Ah! Beautiful is the mother,
Ah! Ah! Beautiful is her child.

Come and see within the stable,
come and see the Holy one,
come and see the lovely Jesus,
brown his brow, his cheeks are rosy.
Hush! Hush! Quietly now he slumbers,
Hush! Hush! Quietly now he sleeps.

I should mention that according to Hymnary, there is a third verse, and it’s a bit of a scold:

It is wrong when the Child is sleeping
It is wrong to talk so loud;
Silence, all, as you gather around.
Lest your noise should waken Jesus.
Hush! hush! see how fast He slumbers;
Hush! hush! see how fast He sleeps!

I’m really glad our Hymnal Commission didn’t include this verse – yikes! It’s much more lovely with just the verses we sing.

And yes, I love that this is included in our hymnal, especially with the first verse in French. It’s not at all deep or theological, but it is lovely and gentle. I love this in children’s or treble voices, sung lightly as if a dance.

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The picture is of some of the Christmas celebrations in Provence. Sheep apparently figure prominently.