O Holy Night

I used Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas by Ace Collins as an Advent Devotional one year and I was not disappointed. My most favorite Christmas song, O Holy Night, was included and I learned the fascinating story behind this carol.

O Holy Night

O Holy night, the stars are brightly shining ;
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Chorus:
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming
With glowing hearts by his cradle we stand.
So led by the light of a star sweetly gleaming.
Here came the wise men from Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our friend!

Chorus

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.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name!
Chorus

 
The following is my summary of the history of O Holy Night.

It began in a small town in France in the year of 1847 in which Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure was a wine commissionaire.  Since he was "known more for his poetry than his church attendance, it probably shocked Placide when his parish priest asked him to pen a poem for Christmas mass. Nevertheless, the poet was honored to share his talents with the church." Using the story in Luke, he imagined what it would have been  like to have witnessed the birth of Christ and the poem "Cantique of Noel" was composed.   Pacide was so moved himself by the poem that he felt it was a song in need of musician so he requested assistance from his friend Adophe Charles Adams, who wrote works for orchestras and ballets all around the world.  Adophe was of Jewish ancestry and did not celebrate Christmas but he was moved by the poem and quickly wrote an original score for the beautiful words which was pleasing to both priest and poet. Three weeks later it was performed at a midnight mass on Christmas Eve; it was accepted by the church of France and became a beloved Christmas song.  When Placide left the church and joined the socialist movement and church leaders discovered Adophe was Jewish, the song was "suddenly and uniformly denounced by the church."  In 1813 an American editor, John Sullivan Dwight, while looking for new material discovered "Cantique of Noel." He translated the lyrics into English text "O Holy Night"and quickly became an American favorite. Back in France, the commoners still sang "Cantique of Noel" in their homes, as it had been banned from the church for almost two decades.

 "Legend has it, that on Christmas Eve 1871, in the midst of fierce fighting between the armies of Germany and France during the Franco-Prussian War, a French soldier suddenly jumped out of his muddy trench. Both sides stared at the seemingly crazed man. Boldly standing with no weapons in his hands or at his side, he lifted his eyes to the heavens and sang the beginning of "Cantique of Noel."  After completing all three verses, a German infantryman climbed out of his hiding place and answered with the beginning of Martin Luther's robust "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come." The story goes that the fighting stopped for the next twenty four hours while the men on both sides observed a temporary peace in honor of Christmas day. Perhaps the story had a part in the French church once again embracing "Cantique of Noel" as being worthy of inclusion in holiday services."  

And this still does not end the story behind "O Holy Night."  On Christmas Eve of 1906 Reginald Fessenden, university professor and former chief chemist for Thomas Edison, spoke into a microphone (using a new type of generator) and for the first time in history, a man's voice was broadcast over the airwaves reading from the gospel of Luke.  After reading the scriptures of the birth of Christ, Fessenden picked up his violin and played "O Holy Night," the first song ever sent through air via radio waves.  This carol has become one of the most recorded and played spiritual songs. "This incredible work -- requested by a forgotten parish priest, written by a poet who would later split from the church, given soaring music by a Jewish composer and brought to America -- has grown to become one of the most beautiful, inspired pieces of music ever created."

Advent Hymns

Two hymnals belong to my devotional library, not because I sing or play the piano (cannot do either), but they give life to my spirit.  For me, hymns are great for praying (and singing when I'm alone). When the words and music speak to your soul, you can be lifted up in praise and become aware and sense the presence of the Body of Christ and angels. I was able to have this experience many times during these weeks of  Advent as Church Street UMC Parish Adult and Youth Choirs, choir director and organist, along with various musicians, offered the congregation and community worship services adding breath-taking beauty to our celebrations.

I was introduced to two new hymns this month and they are being added to my unforgettable list. Here are the words for both of them. 

Gifts for the Child of Winter

Gifts for the child, for the child of winter

I give to you a plough-blade, a plough-blade made of snow

to run a furrow down the field and make the winter grow.

Its flowers will be white as frost, bright as stars in heaven

O bring us winter softly, and let our hearts be open.

I give to you a blackbird's song, a song of sweetest breath

to hang in every branch and tree and purify the earth.

It floats in clouds of wonder, it comes to do no harm:

O bring us winter gently, and let our hearts be warm.

I give to you a raindrop, frozen like a tear

to quench your thirst forever and taste the winter air

It flows to bring the blossom, to water the field

O bring us winter quietly and let our hearts be healed.

The plough-blade is for cutting, which comes before the seed.

The black-bird sings at eventide and then she falls asleep.

The raindrop falls just once and then is swallowed by the ground.

O come to be our summer, our summer without end.

Gifts for the child, for the child of winter.

                          text by Charles Bennett

There is No Rose of Such Virtue

There is no rose of such virtue as is the rose that bare Jesu. Alleluia.

for in this rose contained was heaven and earth in little space,

Res Miranda [marvelous thing].

Leave we all this worldly mirth, and follow we this joyful birth.

Transeasmu [Let us go].

There is no rose of such virtue as is the rose that bare Jesu.

Gaudeamus [Let us rejoice].

                text, ca. 1420, anonymous

This hymn  has been with me for a long time; it has been my "background song" for this season.  When ever I stopped my activities to be "mindful of the present moment" and listened, I could hear the singing of this song in my heart and I'd join with my lips.  Yes, I would put emphasis on the snow on snow phrases.
  

In the Bleak Midwinter

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. 

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,

worshiped 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.

 Christina G. Rossetti  (1872)

Quote by G. K. Chesterton, from an early notebook (mid-1890's)

"You say grace before meals.

All right.

But I say grace before the play and the opera,

And grace before the concert and pantomime,

And grace before sketching, painting,

Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;

And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."

What a wonderful way to acknowledge God's participation in the enjoyments of our living.  Another simple way for praying.

Answering God by Eugene Peterson

Answering God by Eugene Peterson:  I have read this book several times because it has been so meaningful for my journey. It is not a long book; it is only 128 pages, but the content provides the distance in understanding. I agree with the review given this book by Ted W. Engstrom, president emeritus, World Vision:  "Peterson again proves his consummate skill as a wordsmith, drawing the reader into his mind and heart...This book is a gem. Don't fail to explore its beauty." 

If we wish to develop in the life of faith, to mature in our humanity and glorify God with our entire heart, mind, soul and strength, the Psalms are necessary.  We cannot bypass the Psalms. They are God's gift to train us in prayer that is comprehensive (not patched together from emotional fragments) and honest. The Psalms are our prayer masters and we apprentice ourselves to them. Prayers articulate our seeking after the best. Te Psalms train us in the conversation  with God that is prayer.  Apprentice ourselves to a master (Psalms) we are forced to leave the ruts of mediocrity, and climb. The practice of millions of Christians through the centuries of use is adequate proof that we don't have to acquire expertise in the Psalms before we use them; they themselves - prayers that train us in prayer -- are the means to proficiency.  The practice of Christians in praying the Psalms is straightforward: simply pray through the Psalms, psalm by psalm, regularly.

Words woven into a fabric of meaning, have a characteristic feel to them.  When our eyes go over the words of a text and our tongues and lips reproduce the sound of the words, we get a feel for how they are being used and how to take them. Getting the feel of the text is prerequisite to getting its meaning, for if we don;t know how to take the words, we will probably take them incorrectly.  When we hear words spoken, we pick this up easily through tone and rhythm.  We we read words that are written we compensate for the loss of voice by observing how the words are arranged in the loom of the text.  As we discern the texture we know how to take the text.  Psalms are poetry and prayers: this is the texture of the text.  Poetry brings into recognition what is latent, forgotten over looked or suppressed.  Know this: the psalms text is almost entirely this kind of language.

Psalms are not prayed by people trying to understand themselves, but by people who understand that God has everything to do with them, God, not their feelings was the center. God, not their souls, was the issue.  God, not the the meaning of life, was critical.  The psalmists are passionate about God: the obedience-shaping, will-transforming, sin-revoking, praise-releasing God. The Psalms come from a people who hear God speak to them and realize it is the most important word they will ever hear spoken.  They decide to respond. They answer. These people made their mark in history not by understanding themselves or studying what they found around them in earth and sky, but in  praying to the God who revealed himself to them in Word. 

Languages II and III are the ascendant languages of our cultures.  Language that describes (II) and language that motivates (III) dominate.We are well schooled in language that describes the world in which we live.  We are well trained in the language that moves people to buy and join and vote.  Meanwhile Language I, the language of intimacy, the language that develops relationships of trust, hope, and understanding, languishes. When we enter into courtship and marriage we use this language yet again, finding that it is the only language adequate to the reality of our passions and commitments.  Romantic love extends and deepens it for as long as we have the will to pursue it.  But our will commonly falters, and in the traffic of the everyday and press of making a living, we content ourselves with the required and easier languages of information and motivation. In the early months of parenting, the basic language is relearned and used for awhile.  At death, if we know we are dying, we will us nothing else.A few people never quit using it -- a few lovers, some poets, the saints -- but most let it drift into disuse; Walter Wangerin, Jr. calls this a "vast massacre of neglect." Language I is the language of the Psalms and the language of prayer.  Not exclusively, of course, for all the languages blend together in actual use, but mostly.  But because it is the language that requires the most of us and hardly anyone (often no one) requires it of us, it is the language in which we are least proficient. It is necessary to acquire Language II if we are to pass from one school grade to the next, and it is gratifying to use Language III to get our own way, but, except for our children, our parents, our lovers, and our God (altogether they do not add up to very many, and we can easily avoid them if we wish), no once cares overmuch whether we use Language I and yet this is the language most necessary to our humanity, to finding out who we are and who we are with, for love and for care. And for God. Because we are more at home in the languages that describe where we are and get us what we want, and because these languages are more honored in our culture, our habit is to pray in these more easily handled languages.  This is fatal to prayer. Informational language is not prayer language. Motivational language is not prayer language. To pray in these languages is, in effect, not to pray. We must let the Psalms train us in prayer language -- the language of intimacy, or relationship, of "I and Thou," of personal love.

God works with words. He uses them to make a story of salvation. He pulls us into the story. When we believe, we become willing participant in this plot. We can do this reluctantly and minimally, going through the motions; or we can do it recklessly and robustly, throwing ourselves into the relationships and actions. When we do this, we pray. We practice the words and phrases that make us fluent in the conversation that is at the center of the story.We develop the free responses that answer to the creating word of God in and around us that is making a salvation story.

We both live and speak rhythmically. Rhythm is embedded in our bodies and in our world. The rhythms are contrapuntal, pulse counterpointed to seasons, breathing to moon phases. We live and speak in a fugue. Poetry takes the natural rhythms of language and deepens them, fitting sounds and meanings into the interior rhythms of our breathing and pulse, and then extends them to the environmental rhythms of days, months, and years. "Rhythm," John Ciardi once said, "shakes language down into the nervous system." All the psalms are given to us in the form of poetry. Prayer is rhythmic, using language to integrate our blessings to our breathing, adjusting the internal rhythms of our lives to the external rhythms of creation and covenant. Our core being is expressed in language that follows the rhythms of our life, inhalation and exhalation We cannot breathe out what we have not first breathed in. The breath that God breathes into us in daily pentecosts, is breathed out in our prayers, "telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God" (Acts 2:11). We can, of course, pray in a frenzy, thrashing about. Much prayer necessarily begins that way, but we pray better, and best, when we let the rhythms of the creating word of God work themselves into the rhythms of our living, and then find expression in the psalmic rhythms of prayer. Poetry requires equal time be given to sounds and silences. In all language silence is as important as sound. But more often than not we are merely impatient with the silence. Mobs of words run out of our moths, nonstop, trampling the grassy and sacred silence.  We stop only when breathless. Why do we talk so much? Why do we talk so fast? hurry is a from of violence practiced on times. But time is sacred. The purpose of language is not to murder the silence but to enter it, cautiously and reverently. The poet carefully arranges words in settings of silence. letting the sounds resonate, the meanings vibrate. Silence is not what is left over when there is nothing more to say but the aspect of time that gives meaning to sound. The poem restores silence to language so that words, organized and living, once again are given time to pulse and breathe.

What rhythms of language are to time, the metaphors of language are to place. God speaks to us in time and place. We must, therefore, answer, that is, pray, in time and in place. The rhythms of language are used by the psalmists to develop the cadences of the Genesis day in us; the metaphors of language are used by the psalmists to ground our prayers in the Genesis earth. Dissociated from creation, prayer drifts into silly sentimentalism, or snobbish mysticism, or pious elitism. 

These psalms that teach us to pray are, all of them, prayers of people gathered as a community before God in worship.  Some of them most certainly originated in solitude, and all of them have been continued in solitude. But in the form in which they come to us, the only form in which they come to us, and therefore in the way they serve as our school of prayer, they are the prayers of the community before God in worship. Prayer is fundamentally liturgical. Selah, untranslated and untranslatable, strewn through the Psalms, will not let us forget it. If its meaning is an enigma, its use is clear: Selah directed people who were together in prayer to do something or other together. Individuals don't "make up" the community, they are produced by it. The Psalms return us to this beginning, this original matrix of humanity and spirituality.

And these are just a few of the gems you'll find in this book. 

Here and Now by Henri J.M. Nouwen

Here and Now is another book we have used in our Contemplative Prayer Group. I have been reading Nouwen for a long time, and as with Thomas Merton, I have yet to read all of their books.  And of course, more books are being compiled from their writings. How wonderful it would be to immerse oneself into the writings of either in order to birth a book from a certain topic.


In the Preface of the book, Nouwen explains the purpose for writing this book:

Much of what I have written has been part of my life for as long as I can remember, much too, has come to my spiritual awareness during the last few years, and much appeared as new and surprising as I wrote these meditations.  I didn't try to be original, but to be authentic.  I didn't try to say things I had never said before, but things that really matter to me. I didn't try to write a new book, but to meditate on life as I am trying to live it.  Some of the reflections in this book can also be found in earlier books; others are new.  But all are an expression of my present state of mind and heart.

 And in the Afterword, Nouwen offers this suggestion for the reader:

To you who have read some or all of these meditations I want to say:  Do not stop here. Continue on your own. My words were only to encourage you to find your own words, and my thoughts were only to help you discover your own thoughts. What I have written in this book is an expression of my own personal spiritual journey, bound by my own personality, time, place and circumstances. Your spiritual journey is as unique as mine; it has its own unique beauty and unique boundaries. My hope is that the description of God's love in my life will give you the freedom and the courage to discover -- and maybe also describe -- God's love in yours.

Here is the list of the chapters:  Living In The Present, Joy, Suffering, Conversion, Disciplined Living, The Spiritual Life, Prayer, Compassion, Family, Relationships and Who We Are. A lot of ground is covered in these short chapters and shared with the reader in the typical Nouwen style of being open and transparent.