How Shall I Rise in Brightness? A Christmas Sermon

     At long last and with great joy, we say, Merry Christmas! Joy to the world, the Lord is come and we celebrate and rejoice. After the long and cold weeks of waiting through the season of Advent, where we focused on the small but potent image of the seeds of promise – the seeds of Hope, and Peace, and Joy and Love – we’ve come to the season of Christmas.

He is born the holy child
Play the oboe and the bagpipes merrily!
He is born the holy child
Sing we all of the Savior mild.
    (French 18^th century)

    With lights and songs, with gifts and feasting, with laughter and family, we’ve come together, in our own homes and in our own ways, to celebrate the joy and wonder of this day, to celebrate the gift of God, redemption and salvation from heaven. The word became flesh and lived among us. And we have seen his glory – the light that shines into every darkness. Praise God and celebrate, amen!

    I want to say more about the festivities and the celebration. I want us to linger in the light and laughter, and love of this day but we cannot. I’m sorry. Our scripture reading for this morning sends us wham and whiplash into terror and screaming and slaughter. We are dragged from delight into danger. We are dragged from the light back into the darkness.

    After the departure of the magi, who’d come to give homage to infant prophesied to be the King of the Jews, King Herod realized that he had been fooled. The wise men did not return to him to tell him what they had found and where. And he furious, full of wrath. He sent his soldiers to kill all the youngling boys in Bethlehem.

    In some Byzantine liturgies, we are told that Herod’s soldiers slaughtered some 14,000 of Israel’s sons. In a Syrian text the number is 64,000. In some medieval texts the number is expanded to 144,000 to match those martyrs of Israel described in the book of Revelation, sealed and preserved by God. But these are unnecessary embellishments. Bethlehem in the first century was little more than a hamlet, a few miles south of Jerusalem. The number of slaughtered innocents could scarcely have been more than 20 at most. (Raymond Brown, The Birth of the Messiah, 204) But even twenty is an incalculable tragedy. One slaughtered innocent is too many to endure.

    Saint Augustine called these murdered children “the Church’s first blossoms, matured by the frost of persecution during the cold winter of unbelief.”

    We have no historical evidence of this cruelty. Josephus, the Jewish historian of those times, doesn’t mention it. There is no other contemporary account of the slaughter outside of the book of Matthew. But it certainly fits within what we know from other historical records of King Herod’s character. He was a murderous and vengeful king, who was fearful and paranoid and willing to have even members of his own family killed in order to keep his grasp on the throne of Israel. He ordered the deaths of chief priests and scribes and members of the Sanhedrin, as well as his own brother, his own sister and her husband, three of his sons, and his beloved wife Mariam. And years later, when he was ill and knew that he was about to die he ordered that several prominent Jewish leaders be rounded up and executed at the moment of his death, so that the people of Jerusalem would have reason to mourn his passing.

    It’s a story that leaves us uncomfortable – and it should. There’s no historical record of the slaughter of the boys in and around Bethlehem. And we certainly don’t sing about it. Not often anyway. We have hundreds – even thousands of Christmas carols, songs, and hymns but how many of them are about this part of the Christmas story? The Coventry Carol is somewhat familiar

    Herod the King, in his raging,
    Charged he hath this day,
    his men of might
    in his own sight
    all young children to slay.

    Then woe is me, poor child for thee
    and ever mourn and say
    for thy parting
    neither say nor sing
    by, by, lully, lullay.
        (English 16^th century)

    But that might be the only one that most people know. After a bit of digging around I found a Catalan carol entitled El Rei Herodes.

    One day Joseph resting, the Child by his side
    heard shouting and tumult that evil betide;
    The wicked King Herod has made a decree
    for soldiers to kill ev’ry infant they see.
        (Catalan Traditional)

    There are a few others, but not many – and none that are a part of our usual Christmas festivities. We are reluctant to sing of this cruelty. We rarely bring it to mind. We sing of the angels, and the shepherds, and the star, and the magi. We sing of Joseph and Mary. We sing of wassail and figgy pudding. We sing of holly and ivy. We sing about partridges and pear trees and the whole assorted list. But the slaughter of innocent children by a mad bastard of a king – no. We rarely sing of that.

    The Slaughter of the Innocents

    When the solders came with sharpened swords
    obeying orders from a paranoid and murderous king
    the holy family fled across the sands to a pagan land.
    Mothers screamed into the silent starry night
    as their tiny infants bled out and died.
    Rachel weeping for her children would not be comforted.

    When heavy booted soldiers come again with rifles and grenades
    obeying orders as patriotic soldiers always do,
    when refugees flee across barb-wire borders
    when innocents are crushed beneath the rubble
    when mothers scream into satellite skies
    how will they be comforted?

    Matthew connects the story of Herod’s slaughter with a text from the prophet Jeremiah

    “A voice was heard in Rama,
    weeping and much grieving.
    Rachel weeping for her children,
    and she did not want to be comforted
    because they were no more.”

    How dare we sing of Santa in the face of that grief? How dare we sing of flying reindeer, and magic snowmen and all the other innocuous traditions of the holiday when Mother Rachel is crying out for her dead children?

    And she is still crying even today. Still refusing to be comforted for her dead children. Her weeping has not been stilled; her grief has not be silenced. She is weeping in the face of war in the Ukraine. She is screaming against the genocide in Gaza. She is keening in Cambodia and Thailand after another explosion. She is shrieking after every mass shooting in the United States. In the gospel story, Mary and Joseph take the infant Jesus and flee into the safety of Egypt. The immigrant family, refugees from horror and death. But immigrants and refugees still face that horror here and now.

    How shall I rise in brightness while Mother Rachel weeps?

    There is no magic escape here. There is no hallmark happy ending. The children are slaughtered. Mary, Joseph and Jesus flee into the night, barely escaping the violence themselves. They traverse across desert terrain to the relative safety of a foreign land until they hear that Herod the King has finally died himself.

    But take comfort there. Tyrants die. Their power is not forever. Their empires crumble. Their thrones are pulled down in disgrace.

    And we sing the songs of despair. Lament is not faithlessness. Lament is resistance to tyranny. We refuse to normalize the slaughter. We refuse to accept the violence. We refuse to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to Mother Rachel still weeping today in every land, across every border.

    This mystery of glory
    that joy and pain come mixed
    is like frankincense perfume,
    a bittersweet fragrance.
    O Lord of light and glory
    bright shining star of dawn
    the myrrh that anoints in death
    gives way to heaven’s gold.

    Jesus, the word of God become flesh and living among us, inhabits the lowly plains of this dark world with us. God with us. God with the mothers of Ukraine. God with the mothers in Gaza and Thailand and Cambodia and in a hundred other places. God inhabits our tragedy with us. God is here, the light that shines into every darkness.

    We will sing another couple of hymns this morning. We will pray our prayers and go back to our lives. Back to our homes. And we will go back to the joy and celebration of Christmas. And we should. This is indeed a time to celebrate and merry – even if that delight is mixed with pain and grief. Sing the songs of joy. Sing the songs of woe. God hears them all.

    How Shall I Rise in Brightness

    How shall I rise in brightness
    while mother Rachel weeps?
    And how accept the gifts
    of magi from the east?
    O Lord of light and glory,
    bright shining star of dawn,
    bring light to those in darkness,
    bring light to all our hearts.

    This mystery of glory
    that joy and pain come mixed
    is like frankincense perfume,
    a bittersweet fragrance.
    O Lord of light and glory
    bright shining star of dawn
    the myrrh that anoints in death
    gives way to heaven’s gold.

Les Anges Danse Macabre (With Medieval Marginalia and Footnotes)

 It is a distracted funeral procession that follows me
eating and drinking – baked meats and black basil wine
before returning to their sober work.

Anthropomorphic Death dances me to my unmarked grave
with church bells at the midnight hour
the deceased and the debased join the roundel.

“When the feasts and festivals crowd close no division holds

saints and revenants dance together till dawn.”

-From the Winter Folios. Unknown illuminator, 13^th c.

Then, when the song is done and the rooster crowed
The dead will rest as Calvinists mark the day
with gunshots and congressional resolutions.

Come in disguise, on this night of silence, it will not matter
Stopping and starting and stumbling through cues
We will know who from whom.

“The choirs grow thin and the dead take up the missing harmonies.

The Lord has predestined both the song and the silence.” *

-From the Winter Folios. Unknown illuminator, 13^th c.

There is no need to explain. We saw the orchestra
move into the choir – both out of step and out of tempo.
This does not confuse. Neither this nor the organs destroyed by flood.

A chapel is built on the site of the demolished church.
But I have no time to wonder over stones
I will be home and dreaming soon, my love.

* Scholars remain puzzled by the chronological difficulties presented by these marginalia. What did a 13^th century illuminator, working in Armenia, know of the 16^th century, Swiss reformer, his theology or his followers’ predilection for firearms? Several theories have been proposed – ranging from the obvious allegations of fraud and forgery (though paleographic and manuscript studies seem to preclude this) to more bizarre, speculative ideas of time displacement (which is not to say time travel). Perhaps the anonymous illuminator was gifted with prophetic vision or second sight. Though perplexing, the marginal notes appear authentic.

The Lord Bless and Keep You - a blessing for Christmas Day

 This Christmas morning I've written an arrangement of the Aaronic blessing (Numbers 6: 24 - 26) to share with you all. May the Lord bless you.

May the Lord bless you 
and may the Lord keep you.

May the Lord lift his countenance upon you
and give you peace.

May the Lord make his face
to shine upon you
and be gracious 
unto you.

The Fires of Winter (a new Christmas Carol)

 I wrote this short little carol today as I delivered mail. I heard the melody in the wind-chimes hanging at one of the first houses on my route and the song developed throughout the course of the day. 

The fires of winter keep the cold away.
Long is the night, short is the day. 
We will bless the Lord because he came to save 
and because the fires of winter keep the cold away. 

The fires of winter keep the wolves at bay.
All through the night we can hear them say, 
"You should bless the Lord because he came to save
and because the fires of winter keep the wolves at bay."

The star of Christmas came to guide the way.
Shining at night for magi on the way. 
We will bless the Lord because he came to save 
and because the star of Christmas came to guide the way. 

(Not quite) New Christmas Music: Joseph Was a Good Man

Here is a (not quite) new Christmas song for you to enjoy. "Not quite" new because 1) I used a melody by Henry Richard McFadyn and 2) I wrote these words one year and one day ago...

It's a Hoyt Axton Christmas!

It's Christmas. And that means it's time for some Hoyt Axton. "Who's Hoyt Axton?"you say? He's the author of that great Christmas song, "Joy to the World."




Joy to the world now, all the boys and girls now.
joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me...

and star of my favorite Christmas movie, Gremlins.



Have a Happy Hoyt Axton Christmas, everybody!

Cast-a-Down the Proud

And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
 For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation.
He hath shewed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.
He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He hath helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy;
As he spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his seed forever.

Luke 1: 46 – 55

God today hath raised up the poor and cast a-down the proud.

From the halls of power to the fortress tower, not a stone will be left on stone.
Let the king beware for your justice tears ev'ry tyrant from his throne.

He feeds the hungry as his own, the rich depart in poverty.

He has sent the rich away empty,
but he has been merciful to us.

pic.twitter.com/YwJJesKAFi

— Jason Welle, SJ (@JasonWelleSJ) December 21, 2016

The Holiday Tree Doesn’t Matter

It is one of those urban legends of the internet age, a fake news outrage that will not go away; the story has circulated for years. It’s not true, of course, but that doesn’t inhibit the story’s circulation: President Barack Obama has not ordered that the traditional White House Christmas Tree be referred to as a “holiday tree.” It is not true this year. It was not true last year or the year before or the year before that.

I can imagine that next year we will have memes floating around on the Facebook and the Twitter about the fact (ha!) that we can have Christmas trees at the White House again now that Donald Trump is president. It still won’t be true, but … (sigh) … whatever.

But I’d like you to imagine something with me, just for a moment. Imagine an even grimmer scenario. Imagine that President Obama had announced that there would be no White House Christmas Tree at all – not merely that the tree would be referred to as a “holiday tree,” but that there would be no decorated evergreen tree with lights, and tinsel, and baubles at the White House at all. Can you imagine the outrage and fury of those who believe that there is, in fact (there isn’t), a war on Christmas?

If the legends are true (and they probably are not) it wasn’t until Martin Luther (1483 – 1546) that the evergreen tree was connected with Christian celebration of Jesus’ nativity. So for some twelve hundred years Christians were perfectly able to celebrate the miracle of Jesus’ birth without a holiday tree.* Ϫ

But who cares? The tree is not the important part. Call it a Christmas tree, an Xmas tree, a Holiday tree, or a Tannenbaum (which means generically “fir tree” (and I notice that no one freaks out at the carolers singing oh Tannenbaum, oh Tannenbaum, wie treu sind deine Blätter…)) or don’t have one at all. It doesn’t really matter.

*Yes, twelve hundred, not fifteen hundred. Christians didn’t even celebrate Christmas until around the year 300…  

Ϫ And why not call it a holiday tree?  If we’re putting them up as early as Thanksgiving (as many people do) and leaving them up until New Year’s Day or Epiphany - the tree is part of the decorations for several holidays. And the word “holiday” itself means “Holy Day” for crying out loud. If Christmas Day isn’t a holiday holy-day, I don’t know what is…

Sometimes... Sometimes...

It’s not a bad gig: I take my tuba to the entryway of the local Hy-vee grocery store and play Christmas psalms, hymns and spiritual songs – as well as wassailing song, winter songs, and goofy songs from beloved animated specials as part of the fundraising for the Salvation Army here in Newton / Jasper county, Iowa. It's warm (well, warm-ish. At least until the door mechanism gets busted and the door sticks in the open position...)

I play my horn because 1) I get tired of the bell very quickly and 2) it’s an easy way to interact with people without having to be extremely interactive. (I’m an introverted person and by this point in the holiday season, a season that lasts from Thanksgiving till New Year’s Eve, I’m pretty well exhausted and don’t have the energy for a lot of human interaction.  Playing the Christmas songs for folks is easier than talking – and it seems to be appreciated. Little kids especially love seeing the tuba and hearing the music.

But sometimes … sometimes…

This afternoon a gentleman stopped to listen as I played. I finished one song, and took a moment to acknowledge him and to empty the water that condensed inside the horn. He asked how long I’d been playing and how long I’ve lived here. Then his eyebrows darted down and he asked in a heavy voice, “When’s the end times coming?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “I’ve got no word on that…” I quietly started looking for another song to play.

“Things are getting bad,” he said, “the blacks and the drugs.” Then he left.

I played Go Tell It on the Mountain.

Sometime later an elderly woman sat down on the bench beside me. She was accompanied by her adult son. “What song’s he playing?” She asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said, then turned my music stand around (while I was playing!) so he could read the title: “A Virgin Unspotted,” he read to her. “I don’t know that one.”

Another guy asked if I could play Foggy Mountain Breakdown. “Not without my banjo,” I said. I don’t have a banjo…


It’s not a bad gig, but sometimes… sometimes…

Shepherds Can’t Follow the Star

I know that I can be critical (maybe overly so) of the songs and carols played during the extended Advent / Christmas season. I usually refuse to sing “Away in the manger” because of line “no crying he makes” is absolutely ridiculous. I realize  that my (overly) critical spirit is probably due, in part, to my general dislike of the Christmas season - still, there are aspects of the holiday I do like, and there are songs and carols I like despite their accuracy problems.

Take for instance the Christmas Spiritual, Rise Up, Shepherd and Follow. It’s difficult to find any information about the history of this particular song. One book I have says that “practically nothing is known of the source of this spiritual” (Evans 327).  Another points back, without further detail to the 1909 book, Religious Folk Songs of the Negro as Sung on the Plantations. Online sources say that it likely originated with the slaves on plantations on the islands off the coast of Georgia and North Carolina.

There's a star in the East on Christmas morn,
Rise up, shepherd, and follow
It'll lead to the place where the Savior's born,
Rise up, shepherd, and follow

Leave your sheep and leave your lambs
Rise up, shepherd, and follow
Leave your ewes 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 take good heed of the angel's words
Rise up, shepherd, and follow
You'll forget your flocks, you'll forget your herds
Rise up, shepherd, and follow

Encouraging the shepherd to “rise up and follow” the star conflates the two separate, and very distinct infancy narratives in Luke and Matthew. In Luke the shepherds are visited by an angel and given instructions to go to nearby Bethlehem. In Matthew, it is the Magi who follow the star (and later instructions from an angel seen in a dream). In neither one do shepherds follow “the star of Bethlehem.”

Still, angels are frequently equated with stars in the scriptures of the Hebrew and Christian bibles (see Job 38:7 and Revelation 12:4 for example.) So… we could say that the shepherds followed a star to Bethlehem. But that would be just convenient retconning to make the song fit the stories.

Despite all that, I still like the song.

Evans, George K. The International Book of Christmas Carols. Brattleboro, Vermont: The Stephen Greene Press. 1963. Print.

Fenner, Thomas P. Religious Folk Songs of the Negro as Sung on the Plantations. Hampton, Virginia: Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute. 1909. Print. 

Gaudete - A Sermon for the Third Week of Advent 2016

The third Sunday of Advent is named Gaudete Sunday – “Gaudete” is the Latin word “Rejoice.” Today is a day for rejoicing. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand. Have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God.” (Philippians 4: 4 – 6).

Today we rejoice. And this is different somewhat than happiness and good cheer. We hear a lot of songs during these extended weeks of Advent/Christmas about being happiness and good cheer and being merry and bright. But Joy is different. Joy is bigger, deeper, and less dependent upon external circumstances.

Today we rejoice – even if we don’t feel happy and gay and merry and bright. Today we rejoice, even if we don’t have the “Christmas spirit” and our hearts aren’t full of good cheer.  As Pope Francis said in his Gaudete Sunday Sermon last year, “We cannot let ourselves be taken in by weariness; sadness in any form is not allowed, even though we have reasons (for sadness), with many concerns and the many forms of violence which hurt our humanity, the coming of the Lord, however, must fill our hearts with joy.” (Francis)

Even though we may have reason to feel anxious  - world events seem as close as ever to explosive calamity – even though we may have reasons to feel worry – friends and family members in the hospital – even though we may have reasons to fear, we will choose to rejoice today. We will be joyful (if not happy and cheerful) because we know that the Lord is near.

Many biblical scholars believe that the book of Isaiah was not written by one single prophet, but that it is a composite work composed of the words of the prophet along with his students and followers who came later. They believe that our text for this morning (Isaiah 35) and the previous chapter (34) were probably written by two different authors, at different times, but that they have been purposefully arranged this way, next to each other, to heighten the dramatic contrast between them. (Kilpatrick 358) So, even though our text for this morning is a reading from chapter 35, it is good to begin by taking a brief look at chapter 34.

Chapter 34 is filled with doom and destructive gloom, with the stench of rotting corpses. There are mountains flowing with blood and the stars have all disappeared. It is the day of vengeance, burning pitch and billowing smoke. There are dangerous and wild animals in that desert, monsters and desert demons, snakes and buzzards. The land is full of thorns and thistles. And there is no kingdom there.

It is bleak. It is dark. The burning land of despair. It is the wastelands. It is apocalyptically dark, the end of the world as we know it.  It is the place of fear.

But then we turn to chapter 35 and the arid desert now blooms with new and glorious life. The wilderness rejoices and blossoms like a crocus. The Israelite people, living in Babylonian exile, looked back across the burning sand of the Syrian Desert that separated them from their homeland and saw, not the trackless wastes of apocalyptic ash of ruin and decay, but joyful hope.

“At the heart of their dream of a Messiah and his Kingdom has been the vision of the homeland and the return of the exile. Greater than the passion for vengeance on their foes, deeper than the exultation of victory has been the comfort of God’s promise that for them there would come at last a glad homecoming, the great ingathering of the ransomed and the redeemed” (Kilpatrick 358 – 359). They saw a highway leading through the desert of their despair, and they called it The Sacred Way – the road of the redeemed. And they saw themselves - the ransomed of the LORD – returning home, coming back to Zion with shouts, and being crowned with joy everlasting.  Their external circumstances didn’t speak to joy. They were captive. They were prisoners. They were exiles in a foreign and hostile land. Broken. Destroyed. But they saw a vision of joy.

Today, was we wait and anticipate the coming of our Lord Jesus, in his coming as an infant in Bethlehem – which we will celebrate in not too many days, in his glorious coming with his peaceable Kingdom, and in his everyday coming into the now-present of our lives we are standing at the in-between point – between chapters 34 and 35. We are standing between the apocalyptic ash of the burning desert and the lush blooming of crocuses and roses, between streams of burning pitch and streams of water in the desert. We are standing between the long dark nights of cold winter and the increasing light and warmth of spring renewed. We are standing between weak-kneed fear and “Be strong; fear not.” We are standing between despair and joy. Which way will we turn?

Which way will we turn? Back toward the world as it is with chaos and danger around every corner? Or will we turn toward the dawning light of hope and the joy of his coming? Toward the promise of restoration and fulfillment and the blossoming of beautiful life?

Gaudete. Rejoice. Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice for the Lord is near.

The Blessing of the Crocus

Kilpatrick, G.G.D. “Isaiah: Exposition” The Interpreter’s Bible Volume V. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press. 1956. Print.

Pope Francis, “Gaudete Sermon – December 13, 2015”

Oh Christmas Trees - Volume IV - Free Christmas Music

It's exciting news, if you're into this sort of thing - if you like Christmas music. I and several friends have put together another collection of eclectic Christmas music: traditional, original, electric, acoustic, ironic, and devotional. And it's free.

I have two songs in this year's collection: A Lullaby for the Holy Innocents and Slap the Heretic (a new recording of a song I've shared in this blog before.)

Download it for your own, and pass it along to a friend as well. (And you can still get last year's collection as well, if you like.)

For my part I used a few sounds from the Freesound Project:

Bells in Cyprus
Spanish Party Noisemaker
Crowd Cheer
Chimes D#4
Chimes G#3
Chimes A#3

Magi from the East

It's much too early to celebrate thier arrival to visit the newly born King of the Jews; we won't do that until Friday, January 6, 2017. But, perhaps, we can suggest that the magi have started on their long trek over field and fountain, moor and mountain...

Yippie-Ki-Yay, Merry Christmas!

Joseph Was a Good Man

I’ve been thinking about that question my friend and colleague asked me the other day: Do you know any songs about Joseph?  I shared the few that I knew and found in my library of music books. But it still seems that Joseph is a bit slighted in the carols department. There are multiplied thousands of songs for Mary, for the shepherds, for the magi, for the angels, for the stars, for the animals … but relatively few for Saint Joseph.

So I decided to write one for him myself.  Here is “Joseph Was a Good Man” – sung to the tune “The Lone, Wild Bird”

Joseph was a good man, upright and true
and he did what the angel told him to;
he took as his bride
the virgin, Mary,
and Joseph loved her baby too.

Joseph took them both to Egypt land
to escape King Herod’s mighty hand;
when the tyrant died
Joseph knew he could
take his wife and the child home again.

After that we hear no more of him -
how he lived, how he died, the story dims,
but we sing with pride
of that good man
and we sing to God our Christmas hymns.




It ain’t much, I know, but it’s better than Christmas Shoes. *shudder.

A (Very) Few Christmas Songs for Joseph

A friend and colleague of mine asked a wonderful question yesterday: she asked me if I know any Christmas songs / carols about Joseph.  And this is striking.

There are countless thousands of songs about the Virgin Mary, about the shepherds, the wise men, the angels, and the star.  There are songs about the animals and the children who came to visit. But there are relatively few Christmas songs and carols about good St. Joseph.

I dug through my memory and through the books of Christmas music that I have on my shelves and found a few:

There is the French: Joseph Est Bien Marié  (Joseph Married Well)

And the German: Joseph Dearest, Joseph Mine

The Portuguese: José Embala O Menino (Joseph Rocks the Little Boy)

Joseph gets the third verse… half of the third verse, actually, of The Snow Lay on the Ground:

He’s mentioned again (but briefly) in the French song: Noël Nouvelet:

Though the Catalonian carol El Rei Herodes is titled after King Herod, the song focuses on Joseph:



Joseph gets several verses of the Venezuelan carol: La Jornada:



The Mexican carol, En El Nombre del Cielo (In the Name of Heaven) is a conversation between Joseph and the Innkeeper (who, you might remember isn’t actually in the story.)



And of course, there is the strange but wonderful Cherry Tree Carol, which has an emotionally wounded Joseph telling Mary to let the boy’s real father pick cherries for her. It’s based on a story from the Gospel of Psuedo-Matthew.


There are probably more – but not many.  Have I missed any? Share them in the comments.

(Not So) Biblical Limericks: Cold December

I’d like to remind each church member
as we celebrate, to remember:
our Lord’s nativity
in probability
didn’t happen in “cold December.”

Singing Christmas Carols for the Revolution - An Advent Sermon

For someone who every year around this time says to anyone who will listen, “I don’t like Christmas!” I have a lot of Christmas music in my collection. It’s almost embarrassing. I have Christmas music of nearly every imaginary style and variety: classical, folk, rock, dance, swing, punk, country, rap, hip-hop, blues, bluegrass, gospel... I have Christmas music sung in English, Spanish, French, German, Russian, and …I have sentimental Christmas music, humorous Christmas music, and angry Christmas music. Lullabies, symphonies, chants, hymns, ballads… Christmas music played on guitars, pianos, hand bells, computers … One might begin to suspect that my professed disdain for the holiday is a bit of hyperbolic affectation – an exaggeration.

And maybe it is. Maybe there is somewhere in my two-sizes-two-small heart, hiding behind the piles of unwashed socks a warm and glowing appreciation, a fondness, even, for the holiday. Especially for the music. But before we get all lovey-dovey and start standing around “heart to heart, and hand in hand” to sing down in Whoville (Geisel), let make this very clear. Even if I do have an extensive collection of Christmas music, I think that most Christmas music is meaningless fluff at best–and garbage at worst.

Science fiction author Theodore Sturgeon used to say that 90% of science fiction is crap. But, he continued, that doesn’t really tell us much about science fiction as a genre because 90% of everything is crap. The same is true of Christmas music. There’s a lot fluff, and noise, and silliness, and–yes- crap that could be forgotten and we’d all be better off.

If those winter songs–like “Jingle Bells” and “Over the River and through the Woods” and “Walking in a Winter Wonderland," which are not specifically about the Christmas holiday–were to disappear, I wouldn’t miss them. I don’t dislike them, exactly, but they don’t add anything meaningful to my appreciation of the Christmas holiday. I wouldn’t miss them if they were gone.

If I never heard another song about Santa Claus, flying reindeer, and magic snowmen ever again I wouldn’t feel the slightest twinge of sadness. “Up on the Rooftop,” and “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and "Frosty the Snowman,” are all but unnecessary. Throw them out.

And if those overly sentimental, sappy, saccharine, emotionally manipulative songs like “Christmas Shoes,” and “Billy’s Christmas Wish,” were miraculously removed from humanity's collective conscience and memory, I would give eternal praises to God Most High.

I’d cut out all the wassailing songs, and the biblically inaccurate songs – “I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In” would be on the chopping block. How exactly are those thee ships going to come sailing into Bethlehem which is not on any body of water? I’d toss out that beloved carol, “Away in a Manger” because I’ve always disliked the line “no crying he makes.” Seriously? A newborn baby in a room crowded with people and animals awakened in the middle of the night and he’s not bawling? Out it goes.

“But, but, but…” I can see the objections forming, I can already hear the complaints. You’ll say I’ve gone too far. That I’m throwing out the baby (the baby Jesus!) with the bathwater. Maybe I’m exaggerating again. Maybe I am speaking in hyperbole, because even if I were allowed to scissor out all those songs that I don’t like or appreciate, there are Advent / Christmas songs that I would fight – fight – to keep. I would keep the profound carols, the True-with-a-capital-T songs, the revolutionary and subversive Christmas songs.

We don’t often recognize the transformative power of Christmas music, or the subversive nature of some our carols – probably because we’ve buried them under an avalanche of songs about curly head dolls ("Santa Claus Is Coming to Town") and Christmas Hippopotamuses. But these are powerful songs that deserve our attention; they are Christmas carols of the revolution.

Music, done right, is potent and dangerous. Music makes people in positions of power and authority nervous. The American supported military dictator of Chile from 1973 – 1990, Augusto Pinochet, had the folk singer Víctor Jara arrested because of his music. Jara was one of the first of many, many thousands who were arrested, tortured, and imprisoned by Pinochet’s government. Jara was arrested and tortured–his hands were crushed so that he couldn’t play the guitar any more. He was finally executed, shot and killed–because his songs were subversive. His music threatened those in power.

One of the last songs he wrote and recorded was “Vientos del Pueblo” (Winds of the People):

“Now I want to live
together with my child and brother,
in the new world that all of us
are building day by day.
Your threats do not intimidate me,
you masters of misery.
The star of hope
will continue to be ours.” (Jara)

Last week I quoted from the song “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”  with those striking lines: “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep, God is not dead nor doth he sleep; the wrong shall fail and right prevail, with peace on earth, goodwill to men!”  (Longfellow)

This is powerful stuff. This is revolutionary, if we will hear it.

I think also of the French carol, “O Holy Night” usually reserved for the soloist to make it a ‘special’ performance piece. But it is a song of social justice and revolution:

“Truly he taught us to love one another,
his law is love and his gospel is peace.
Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother
and in his name all oppression shall cease.”
(Cappeau)

This is an insurrectionary song. This is a song of protest and power. Or how about this all but forgotten song – “Masters in This Hall”?

“Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear,
holpen are all the folk on earth,
born is God’s son so dear.
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud,
God today hath poor folk raised
and cast a-down the proud.”
(Morris)

This is revolutionary. This is dangerous. And political! But it’s absolutely biblical.

Earlier we read Mary’s song from the gospel of Luke (1: 46 – 55) and we sang two different versions of it: “Canticle of the Turning” (Cooney) and “My Soul Gives Glory (Magnificat)” (Mueller). It is (in nearly any version) my favorite of all Christmas songs.

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.

His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
(Luke 1: 46 – 55 NRSV)

In her song, Mary celebrates not just (not even primarily) the spiritual aspects of the salvation that came to the world in that first Christmas. Her song is an exuberant celebration of the material salvation of the poor and lowly ones – it is a celebration of political revolution where tyrant kings are overthrown the wealth of the richest citizens is redistributed to the poor.

This song, if it were really being read, and sung, and heard, would spark outrage in our churches. Wealth redistribution? Political revolution? These are not the Christian Christmas values we’re accustomed to singing about. Give us Silent Night lullabies and songs about shepherds in the fields (though those songs would unsettle us as well, if we paid attention to them.) Give us songs about Santa and going home for Christmas. We are uncomfortable with Christmas protest songs.

Mary’s Magnificat (so called because of the first line in the Latin translation, “Magníficat ánima mea Dóminum.”) is a rejection of the very things our culture, our country, our world desires: her song is a rejection of wealth and power. It is a rejection of war and empire and conquest. It is a rejection of political rule by sword, and rifle, and jet fighter. It is the overthrow of economic systems guided by principles of greed and self-interest. Mary’s Magnificat is a revolutionary Christmas carol.

Ernest Cardenal, in his collection of comments on Gospel passages by members of the peasant community in Solentiname, Nicaragua, records the following exchange during a discussion of Mary’s Magnificat:

“I asked what they thought Herod would have said if he had known that a woman of the people had song that God had pulled down the mighty and raised up the humble, filed the hungry with good things and let the rich with nothing.

“Natalia laughed and said: ‘He’d say she was crazy.’

Rosita: ‘That she was a communist.’”
(Brown 85)

God’s inclination towards the poor, expressed in Mary’s song, is not isolated to this particular passage; a divine preference for the poor and oppressed runs through the entirety of scripture. (Guitierrez 275) But we very often soften this focus. We hide this message under a pile of worn Christmas platitudes and warm nostalgic feelings. But Mary’s song snaps us back to the biblical message. The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

“I will bless the Lord at all times.
His praise ever in my mouth.
Let my soul glory in the Lord
for he hears the cry of the poor.”
(Foley)

If our Christmas is centered in Santa Claus, and gifts, and nostalgia, if we are singing only of beautiful snow falls, and wassailing, and precocious little drummer boys, if we are not singing songs of revolution and justice for the poor and the oppressed, then we have completely missed the reason for the season. Do we want to, as the slogan says, “Keep Christ in Christmas”? Then our Christmas should be about lifting up the poor and feeding the hungry. Our Christmas should be about bringing down tyrannical powers and toppling corrupt economic structures. Our Christmas should be about making peace and putting an end to war.

The first shall be last and the last shall be first, the lowly lifted up and the high and mighty brought down. The poor will be filled with good things and the rich sent away empty.  

This is Christmas! Merry Christmas, and Viva la revolución!

 

Brown, Robert McAfee. Unexpected News: Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes.

Philadelphia, PA: The Westminster Press. 1984.

Cappeau, Placide. “Cantique de Noel (O Holy Night)” Translated John S. Dwight.

Cooney, Rory. “Canticle of the Turning.”

Foley, John B. “The Lord Hears the Cry of the Poor.”

Geisel, Theodore, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Random House. 1957.

Gutierrez, Gustavo. Sharing the Word through the Liturgical Year. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books. 1977.

Jara, Joan. "Without Knowing the End." Victor:An Unfinished Song. History Is a Weapon. Web. 

Longfellow, Henry Wordsworth. “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”

Morris, William. “Masters in this Hall” ca. 1860.

Mueller, J.T. “My Soul Gives Glory to the Lord.” 

Oh, Christmas Tree: Volume T(h)ree

During the last two years, some friends decided that, despite the gross commercialization of Christmas- the lights, fake Santas, tin trees, etc- they wanted to find a way to come together and enjoy the holiday spirit. So, spread out across the globe as they were, they reached a consensus that they would band together and bring gifts of song, laughter, and overall holiday feels to their friends and family through a Christmas compilation called Oh Christmas Trees.

This collection of off-beat Christmas music is a gift to you, your friends, and your enemies (should you have any).  Download and share. Enjoy.

God’s Silent Song of Joy – An Advent Sermon

We’ve come now to the third Sunday of Advent – the Sunday usually marked for the subject of joy. In the first week we spoke of the coming messianic king, and the city where he rules, and the people of that community, as well as the name that they all (king, city, congregation) share–“Yahweh Is My Saving Justice.”  In the second week–last week–we spoke of another name, the name that God gives to his people forever, to the people who have wrapped themselves in the cloak of his saving justice–and that name is: “Peace through Justice, and Glory through Devotion.”

The first week’s sermon came from the writings of Jeremiah, and the second’s were attributed to (though not likely written by) Jeremiah’s sidekick and scribe, Baruch ben Neriah. In this third week we continue with another indirect connection to the prophet Jeremiah. Zephaniah, whose words we’ve read this morning, was a contemporary of Jeremiah.

However many biblical scholars believe that the portion of Zephaniah’s book that we’re looking at this morning (3:14 – 20) was added later by a student or disciple of the prophet. “Current study tends to assign the greater part of the book to the 7^th century prophet, recognizing that the book may have been expanded in the exilic and post exilic periods” (Kselman 1078).  The two final psalms that bring this short prophetic book to a close bear significant differences from the rest of the words of the prophet–differences that may indicate another contributing author or editor.

However it was that the words came to us, we will speak, and sing, and shout for joy today:

“Shout for joy, daughter of Zion,
Israel, shout aloud!
Rejoice, exult with all your heart,
daughter of Jerusalem.”
(Zephaniah 3:14, NJB)

This extended holiday season between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve–which encompasses Advent and Christmas (as well as numerous holidays in other religious traditions) is often described as a season of joy. It is bright and cheerful. We put up trees, and wreathes, and decorations, and lights to warm our hearts against the cold winter winds and blowing snow (of which, we’ve had very little this year…).

We sing: “Joy to the World,” (Watts) and “Rejoice, rejoice this happy morn, a Savior unto us is born” (Boye). We sing: “Once again my heart rejoices as I hear, far and near, sweetest angel voices; ‘Christ is born,’ their choirs are singing, till the air ev’rywhere now with joy is ringing” (Gerhardt).

It is a time of festivities and parties, a time of celebration and joy.  We give gifts and eat special cookies. We gather with family and enjoy ourselves.

But, for many, the holiday season is not all warmth, and smiles, and Christmas joy. There is grief, and pain just below the surface. There is loneliness and weariness. It’s not often recognized but holiday depression is a very real thing. Though it is a myth that suicide rates increase during the Christmas season (Burton) many individuals feel socially isolated from their peers who seem to be enjoying themselves so much. Those who have lost a spouse or partner often find the holidays especially difficult to endure. And even those who usually find joy and good cheer during this time of year, may find themselves troubled by the news of the world. The days seem dark and the nights very long. Joy, for many of us, is hard to see. The song of Joy is difficult to hear.

I’ve said for the past two weeks that the season of Advent is a time of expectation, a time of preparation, and anticipation. We are looking forward to the joyful celebration of Christ’s coming–both the celebration of his coming as an infant in Bethlehem as well as his glorious coming again. But before we move forward into that joy it is important (and necessary) to look backwards first. Before we can go forward in anticipation of that great joy, we should look back to see where we’ve been.

Our text, these final two psalms of joy in Zephaniah’s book, is addressed to the Jewish exiles who’d been taken away into Babylonian captivity. These psalms bring a hopeful epilogue to a book otherwise focused on the judgement and destruction of the dark and dreadful “Day of the Lord.” But the coming of the day of Lord was, for Zephaniah, not only a time of grim punishment for the wicked –both in Judah and in the nations around – but also a day of salvation and restoration. It was both Retribution and Redemption. (DiGangi 99)

After the extravagant destruction of the city of Jerusalem, after the plundering and razing of Solomon’s temple, after long years of exile in a strange and distant land, the people of Judah, the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the people of Israel were encouraged to sing and rejoice because their time of trouble was over, their shame was lifted, their sentence repealed. They would go home again. They would stand on the hills and watch their children, once forcibly scattered, come back from the various places they had been taken.

Shout for joy, daughter of Zion,
Israel, shout aloud!
Rejoice, exult with all your heart,
daughter of Jerusalem.
(Zephaniah 3:14 NJB)

But even better than the opportunity to go home again.  Even greater than the restoration of their abducted children. Even greater than these things – they were to sing and shout for joy because Yahweh, their saving God and King would be there with them, would be there among them.

In his vision of the city of Jerusalem, just before its destruction, the prophet Ezekiel saw the Cherubim, those winged creatures that carry the heavenly throne of God, rise up from the center of the city, and “with the glory of the God of Israel” depart from Jerusalem. (Ezekiel 11: 22 – 23).  In another apocalyptic book attributed to (but not written by) Jeremiah’s scribe, Baruch is said to have heard a voice crying out from the abandoned temple:

“Enter, you enemies,

And come, you adversaries;

For he who kept the house has forsaken (it).”
(2 Baruch / Apocalypse of Baruch 8:2)

The people of Israel, the chosen people felt abandoned by God-forsaken, left to wither away and die in the despair of their Babylonian exile. But, after so many long years, the prophet tells them to Rejoice! You’re going home. Rejoice, your children are coming back to you. But most of all: Rejoice because God is with you.

When that Day comes the message for Jerusalem will be:
Zion, have no fear,
do not let your hands fall limp.
Yahweh your God is there with you,
the warrior-Savior.
(Zephaniah 3:16 NJB)

And, what is more, He will be rejoicing too.  He will be singing happy songs (Zephaniah 3:17 NJB)

But this is where the message gets a little difficult. The Hebrew of the text is fairly clear with its words, but what to make of them is problematic; which is why you’ll find such variety when you compare the various translations of Zephaniah 3: 17.

The Hebrew of that verse says: “He will be silent in his love.”

He will sing happy songs with the returning remnant of Israel – but he will be silent with his love. His song is a silent song. Some translations, like the KJV, take a different tack to this verse and translate it as “He will gather them that are sorrowful for the solemn assembly.” If the words are clear, the meaning is uncertain.

But I like to try to hold both of these possible translations together in my head. He will gather the sorrowful together for a solemn assembly / he will sing (silent) happy songs of love over the returnees.

There is joy in this holiday season. There is joy in the advent preparation for Christmas. But sometimes that joy is hard to find. Sometimes that song of love is hard to hear.

I think of the carol, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”- which was based on a poem by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow-written during the sorrowful years of the American civil war. Longfellow’s wife had recently died, and his eldest son, Charles, had run off to join the union army without his father’s permission or blessing. It was only a few months before Charles was severely wounded in battle. And for the poet, the world seemed very bleak. The bells rang out on Christmas day, but there was no joy in their song.

“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, good will to men.’”

For the people living in great darkness, under the shadow of death (Luke 1:79) the light of dawn seems very far away, and that song of joy is hard to hear. The people of Israel languishing in exile felt abandoned by God, lost in their darkness; they could not hear the song. African born slaves on plantations in the American south, listened for that song. People who’ve lost their husband or wife, or their children, listen hopefully for that strains of that song. Refugees fleeing the outbreak of war in their home countries cannot hear that song over the noise of explosions and gunfire. But God is singing a song of love for his people-great happy songs for those he loves.

The darkness of the world seems ready to swallow up the light of God’s presence. The noise and clatter of the events of our lives can drown out the music of God’s love for us. It is easy to despair. It is easy to give up, to say that God has given up on us, on me. It is easy to say we are lost and alone. Hate is strong and it mocks the song of love and joy and peace and goodwill.

But God is drawing those sorrowful people together for a solemn assembly. He is drawing us together with himself to sing for us and to us and over us.

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

‘God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

the wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
with peace on earth, good will to men.’”
(Longfellow)

We are joyful because God is with us. This is the reason for the season: that God has come down and dwelt among us, has made his home, his temple within us. We rejoice because God is with us, even when his silent song of love is difficult to hear. We rejoice, even in our despair. We find hope and joy in God’s eternal, abiding presence.

In the dark shadows of our lives-God is with us. In the noisy clamor of our struggle-God is with us. He is bringing the light of hope and a song of love to the sorrowful people that he has gathered to himself for a solemn assembly. He sings this happy, silent, song of love into our hearts. And we sing and rejoice because he is here.

O come now, Living Water, pour your grace,
and bring new life to every withered place;
speak comfort to each trembling heart:
“Be strong! Fear not, for I will ne’er depart.”

Rejoice! Rejoice! Take heart and do not fear,
God’s chosen one, Immanuel, draws near.
(Lundblad)

Boye, Birgitte K. “Rejoice, Rejoice This Happy Morn.”

Burton, Neel, “Is Suicide More Common at Christmas Time: Seven Myths about Suicide.” Pscyhologytoday.com, December 23, 2012. 

DiGangi, Mariano. 12 Prophetic Voices: Major Messages from the Minor Prophets. Wheaton, IL: Victor Books. 1989.

Gerhardt, Paul. “Once Again My Heart Rejoices.”

Longfellow, Henry Wordsworth. “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” 

Lundblad, Barbara K. “O Come, O Come Immanuel”  

Kselman, John S. “Zephaniah, Book of” The Anchor Bible Dictionary Vol. IV. New York, NY: Doubleday. 1992.

New Jerusalem Bible. New York, NY. Doubleday. 1999.

Watts, Isaac, “Joy to the World.”