Sometimes all hope of focusing on a spiritual practice goes out the window – not because of the world events, or because of some deep tragedy. No, sometimes all hope disappears because there is a young squirrel running around the house wreaking havoc. Including running across my legs at 5am. My sister’s been dealing with this for a few days, and just now we finally have the pest control people out to plug holes in this old Victorian house and set traps, hoping we can get this poor critter out and not coming back.

So … the morning’s been fraught.

And then, I sat down to sing this odd little French carol, D’où viens tu, Bergère? and try to learn something about it.

Here’s what I know:

It’s French.

Yep, that’s pretty much all I know.

Whence, O shepherd maiden, whence came you?
Whence, O shepherd maiden, whence came you?
I come from the manger, walking on my way,
nothing ever stranger seen within my day.

What saw you there, maiden, what saw you?
What saw you there, maiden, what saw you?
I saw lying cradled there a tiny child,
in the new straw huddled, softly it was piled.

Nothing more then, maiden, nothing more?
Nothing more then, maiden, nothing more?
Mary, holy mother, nursing babe at breast,
Joseph, holy father, with the cold oppressed.

Well, I also know we’ve got some intriguing lyrics, especially the very last line – I mean, I’m glad Joseph gets a nod and the honorific “holy father”… but I’m not sure I get what it’s saying?

I also know that the only lyrics I could find in French are the first verse:

D’où viens-tu, bergère ? D’où viens-tu?
Je viens de l’étable de m’y promener!
J’ai vu un miracle, ce soir arriver!
Rien de plus, bergère? Rien de plus?
Y’a le boeuf et l’âne, qui sont par devant,
Avec leur haleine Réchauffant L’Enfant.

I’m happy for anyone to translate that for me – my French is so rusty it would give you tetanus.

Anyway. A weird morning and an odd carol. I’m curious about your impressions and experiences with it.

Along with the many Christmas albums I grew up with were some songbooks – many odd little slender volumes containing a dozen or so carols, plus the big one: the Reader’s Digest Merry Christmas Songbook.

You see, somewhere along the way, the good folks at Reader’s Digest decided to put together songbooks, and my folks bought them all. They also bought those big box set album sets full of music moods, and at least one collection of the Boston Pops, Arthur Fiedler conducting. Anyway, the songbooks were great, because although they were hardcover, they were also spiral bound, so they could sit on a piano or music stand easily. We still have a few of them – I know I can put my hands on the Christmas one, and the Family songbook, and I think Best Loved Songs.

As a child, I’d pore over these songbooks, and in some cases make up tunes to go with the ones I didn’t know. (This is before I learned how to read music.) Because I’d never heard the Huron Carol before, this one got the Little Kim Makes It Up treatment. I don’t remember the tune I used to sing to it, but I know that the first time I heard the real tune it startled me because mine was so utterly and completely different. (I had a similar experience with “Frankie and Johnny” – it took a long time for me to get my version out of my head for good.)

And the truth is, I’m still largely unfamiliar with this carol, as it’s just never made it onto any of the Christmas music collections I’ve ever owned, and somehow I have never sung it in a choir. (But God forbid we go a year and not sing some crazy version of Jingle Bells – because that’s where Christmas is at, lemme tell ya….)

Anyway, this is a sweet hymn, and according to Wikipedia, was “written in 1643 by Jean de Brébeuf, a Jesuit missionary at Sainte-Marie Among the Hurons in Canada. Brébeuf wrote the lyrics in the native language of the Huron/Wendat people; the song’s original Huron title is “Jesous Ahatonhia” (“Jesus, he is born”).” The English lyrics were written by Jesse Edgar Middletownwith (how’s that for a name?) in 1926. The tune’s origins are less clear, but I’ve seen it connected to French, Breton, and Welsh, so we’ll say … European.

‘Twas in the moon of wintertime, when all the birds had fled,
that mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
before their light the stars grew dim, and wondering hunters heard the hymn:
Jesous Ahatonhia, Jesous Ahatonhia.

Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found,
a ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round;
but as the hunter braves drew nigh, the angel song rang long and high:
Jesous Ahatonhia, Jesous Ahatonhia.

Since I am unfamiliar with this, I ran over to YouTube to find a version to listen and sing to, and I came across this gorgeous version by the Cambridge Singers:

Of odd note, however, is the uses of Gitchi Manitou” – an Algonquin name for god – in this Wendat carol. I don’t know if that happened in the English translation, or if there was already some intermixing of languages due to French missionary influences. Anyway, it’s an interesting note.

It’s also of note that this song reflects the tried and true “adopt and adapt” method of conversion; over and over again throughout history we see the incoming (sometimes invading) priests using local metaphors and sacred stories to tell the Christian story, so that the people they’re trying to convert (and sometimes subjugate) would find it easy to make the leap from their deeply held beliefs to include a new one, Christianity. Thus, in this carol, the babe is born “in a lodge of broken bark” and the “chiefs from afar” bring gifts of “fox and beaver pelts.”

And with that, I’ll take my leave of today’s post… the high temperatures have broken, I am at my sister’s for a few days before I head to General Assembly, and I am ready to relax a bit in the early summer cool. I just might flip through a couple of those old songbooks, and maybe make up a tune or two.

 

I don’t have much to say today – not because this lullaby hasn’t moved me to tears, but because it has.

Shelley Jackson Denham’s gentle, lush, poignant Christmas song has gotten right through to me today. I’m rather a blubbery mess, to be honest – there is so much pain, sorrow, hardship, and exhaustion in the world, and I’m feeling the weltschmerz – the world weariness – deeply right now.

And then here is this lullaby for a child who grew up to be a man who so deeply loved the world that eventually killed him. How do you not cry at the weight of all that?

Winter night, clear and bright:
a weary world is sleeping.
And then a cry fills earth and sky:
a newborn child is weeping.

(Chorus)
Hush-a-bye, lullaby,
blessed little baby.

Drops of pain flow like rain:
tell why your tears are falling:
for humankind, so frail, unkind,
or for your own life’s calling?

(Chorus)

Holy Child, Every Child,
your life will have its season.
And each new day your heart may pray
for grace, for peace, for reason.

(Chorus)

Anyway. Even through the tears, I love this one. It’s a beautiful piece, and I am grateful to sing it today, to all that are hurting and still can love.

How many of you, like me, pass this one by, year after year, because it’s an unfamiliar “title” and takes up two pages? Raise your hands.

Me too!

And how many of those with your hands up never realized this was the old spiritual “Rise Up Shepherd and Follow”?

Really? Just me?

I didn’t think so.

This is what fan of the series Kaye talks about a lot – how using only the first line can hide songs we know and love from people not giving more than a cursory glance at the page, like most of us. I mean, I only discovered this was that song because of this series, and now I feel sad for Christmasses past that didn’t get this song in celebration.

Anyway, it’s a great carol and a great spiritual, one which may have been coded to direct enslaved Africans to freedom by following the North Star. I can only find one reference to that, but it fits.

There’s a star in the East on Christmas morn,
rise up, shepherd, and follow.
It will lead to the place where the babe is born;
rise up, shepherd, and follow.

(Chorus)
Leave your ewes and leave your lambs,
rise up, shepherd, and follow.
Leave your sheep and leave your rams,
rise up, shepherd, and follow.
Follow, follow, rise up, shepherd, and follow.
Follow the star of Bethlehem,
rise up, shepherd, and follow.

If you hark to the angel’s holy word,
rise up, shepherd, and follow.
You’ll forget your flock, you’ll forget your herd;
rise up, shepherd, and follow.

(Chorus)

Of course, as with any song not our own, care must be taken to not appropriate – offering context, even on Christmas, does matter.

If you want to see it done badly, search for this song on YouTube. I promise you will find a plethora of Very White People versions of this song out there. Fortunately, there were a few sung in African American or multicultural contexts, such as this fantastic one from the Middle Community Chorus:

“Rise Up Shepherd, and Follow” :: Jan 4 @middlechurch from Middle Collegiate Church on Vimeo.

This makes me wanna rise up.

Oh, this is just a delightful carol.

I do have an affection for the medieval French tunes – there’s something so joyful and, well, interesting about them. And while this one was never high on the Christmas album hit parade as a child, I have grown to love it as an adult.

The words are another set of the ‘tell the whole story’ lyrics — which is helpful when the pieces stand alone, harder when putting together a “lessons and carols” kind of service.

Sing we now of Christmas, Noel, sing we here!
Hear our grateful praises to the babe so dear.

(Refrain)
Sing we Noel, the child is born, Noel!
Sing we now of Christmas, sing we now Noel!

Angels called to shepherds, “Leave your flocks at rest,
journey forth to Bethl’hem, find the child so blest.”

(Refrain)

In the town they found him, Joseph, and Mary mild,
seated by the manger, watching the holy child.

(Refrain)

From the eastern country came the kings afar,
bearing gifts to Bethl’hem, guided by a star.

(Refrain)
Gold and myrrh they took there, gifts of greatest price.
There was ne’er a stable so like paradise.

(Refrain)

A bit of a non-sequitur: why are Joseph and Mary always called “mild” – is it because it rhymes with “child” and it wouldn’t do for the parents of Jesus to be “wild” or “riled”, “beguiled”, or “defiled”? Just wondering. I’d think by this point in the story they’d be irritated, tired, and hangry. But that’s me.

Anyway… not much more to offer this morning. It’s a lovely piece, and it was fun to sing this morning, but on the whole, I feel Christmassed out.

I love this carol.

I love the joyfulness, the majesty, the beauty. I love the lyrics by John Francis Wade, an 18th century English Catholic – even the unfamiliar one about the shepherds. I love the tune, also by Wade (or at least transcribed by him). This might be the perfect carol of Christmas Day.

I especially love that not only does our version include the beautiful Latin first verse, it opts to use the Latin in the chorus – because somehow we have an easier time singing “adore him, the Master” (or the more familiar but not quite accurate translation, “adore him, Christ the Lord”) when we are singing it in another language.

But even that fact doesn’t bring me down today – I just love love love this carol.

Adeste, fideles, laeti triumphantes;
venite, venite in Bethlehem.
Natum videte Regem angelorum.

(Chorus)
venite, adoremus,
venite, adoremus,
venite, adoremus Dominum.

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem.
Come and behold him, born the King of angels;

(Chorus)

Lo, humble shepherds, hasting to his cradle,
leaving their flocks in the fields, draw near.
We, too, with gladness, thither bend our footsteps;

(Chorus)

Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation;
O sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!
Glory to God, all glory in the highest;

(Chorus)

Now I should mention that this carol Does. Not. Rhyme. Not in the Latin, not in the English. And I know I’ve banged on in other posts about awkward rhyme schemes that don’t scan. So why doesn’t this bother me?

Because it’s the perfect Christmas Day carol, that’s why.

Or maybe it’s just that the way it’s crafted, it feels like it rhymes, or has some sense of completeness. I’m not sure, but really, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

Because maybe I’m not so far off thinking it’s the perfect Christmas Day carol.

—

Another photo, “Hallock Bay”, by my friend Jeremy Garretson – please buy his art!

POST UPDATED 2:15PM, 6/9/17

Wow, these Unitarians are a surly bunch.

Yesterday’s post brought up a lot of discussion on Facebook (visit my timeline and scroll down a bit) about our approaches to theology and whether we are/were guilty of weakening the Christian theology of carols, and what the remedies are. We even heard from a member of the Hymnal Commission, who talked about how difficult and nuanced the work in 1993 was, and reminding us that the Commission was made up of eight people who wrestled for months and whose “decisions did not create an obligatory canon.” And knowing what folks in our congregations had been wrestling with (in many cases, hard transitions from other Christian – particularly Roman Catholic – denominations), “There were a lot more pastoral and liturgical reasons for making certain of our decisions than theological.”

This is important for all of us – me included – to remember. It’s a helpful frame for those times when I want to quibble with theological issues in hymns, especially traditionally Christian hymns.

And it’s a good thing to remember as we look at today’s lyrics, the original first verse in German, and a literal translation of verses 1 and 2. In this, we can see that even our beloved English lyrics are an interpretation:

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht.
Alles schlaft, einsam wacht
nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lokkigen Haar,
schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,
schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

Quiet night, holy night,
all asleep! Save tonight
watch a dear and holy pair
their sweet boy with curly hair,
sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

Quiet night, holy night,
shepherds first know the light
through the angel allelu,
bringing news to me, to you:
Christ who frees is here,
Christ who frees is here.

At this point my only quibble is longing for all of the German lyrics and associated literal translation. Because this is beautiful.

EDIT: After posting this on Facebook, Michael Tino asked Hymnal Commission member Mark Belletini about the translation; here is what he said (included with permission):

It was done by a German-born woman in the congregation in Hayward who insisted on being anonymous. She did not like the English version, which we sang every year from memory, first verse only as the candles burned in the racks we used. It bothered her not to sing about the curly hair, which the German clearly says. So she offered to translate it.

She thought the word ordinarily translated as “Savior” had been cheapened by the TV evangelists who were all over the place in those days. She had seen the concentration camps opened, the emaciated survivors freed and she said that is a better image of the German word. I concurred, saying that our Christian Socinian ancestors understood Savior not in the Evangelisch way of bloody death but in the practicing of the Sermon on the Mount. So I took her version to the other seven [on the Hymnal Commission] and they loved it.

We knew with the candles, few would sing it, but only the first verse of the traditional English. But from time to time we in Hayward would sing the original lullaby (with guitar of course, as was done originally) It made our German translator especially happy. I asked those who knew German to sing it in German first. Then Renate’s translation.

Makes me want to use this version all the time now. Now back to the original post:

I will note that when possible, I like to have a soloist or a choir sing the first verse in German to begin the candle lighting ritual at Christmas Eve – it goes German verse, sung – spoken intro with instrumental (guitar preferred) or hummed underscore – everyone sing in English while light is passed. It’s a gorgeous framing and makes that special moment even more special.

Anyway. I’m gonna chew on the difference between “Christ who frees is here” and “Christ the savior is born” for a while…. have a good spring day.

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.