Christmas Carols: More than Words

Every year in the weeks before Christmas, a vicar in London would set off and visit the pubs in his parish. That was not an extended Yuletide jol but rather a way to put Christ back into Christmas.

The vicar realised that the chance of any of those revellers actually going into a church over the festive season was quite slim. So his idea was to take the church to where the people were — and since it was the December party season, that meant “in the pub”.

And he did not go in armed with a bible, or candles, or even a manger set — his weapons of mass distraction were his organist and choir. Most British pubs have an old piano in the corner, so they would dust it off and start playing and singing Christmas carols. The locals, rather than telling them to quieten down, gladly joined in, and a rowdy evening of “Silent Night” followed.

I tell this story for two reasons. The first is to remind us — as we often forget — that the Christmas story is not about a rarefied angelic being coming down from on high to dwell in a holy bubble away from reality. Rather, it is the tale of a fragile, very human child, and his equally human mother, in a messy, ordinary, smelly place. As we sing in “Once In Royal David’s City”: He came down to earth from heaven, who is God and Lord of all. And his shelter was a stable, and his cradle was a stall. With the poor and meek and lowly, lived on earth our Saviour holy.

Thus, the second point is that the words of those Christmas carols that we have been singing, year in and year out since we were children, are full of powerful theology.

The great African theologian and saint, Augustine of Hippo, is quoted as saying: “The person who sings, prays twice!” He was presumably making the point that when we sing a hymn or a carol, we are not only praising God with the words but we are also praising God with the beauty (or at least the volume) of our voices.

There is something about Christmas carols which means that, during this one season of the year, Catholics find their singing voices. During the other 11 months, we may have a lot to learn from our Methodist or Pentecostal brothers and sisters who sing with great gusto. But at least we do join in with the Christmas songs — whether in church or at school concerts or perhaps even in the pub.

Listen to the words

So raising our voices to the Lord is one way in which we are praying, with Christmas carols. But the other way — raising our hearts with the meaning of the words — is something at which we might need to work at bit harder. Regrettably, the familiarity of the tunes, and the convivial atmosphere in which we sing them, means that we might rarely reflect on them properly.

So I urge you during this season to open your hymn book, or search for a Christmas hymn on your mobile device, and look carefully at the words we know so well.

Initially, some of them might seem a little archaic. We are unlikely to say in modern English: “Late in time, behold him come, offspring of a Virgin’s womb.” But don’t be too thrown by that. Instead, focus on the words that do speak to you.

The practice of lectio divina could be useful here. Take a carol — one that you know and love, or one that is less familiar — and sit and read it through slowly. Pause after every line, breathe in the sounds, and perhaps try and hear the words without the familiar tune. Then wait and read it again. Then go back and notice if there are any words or lines that really stand out for you. As the Quakers say: “It speaks to my condition.” Pause on those, let them seep in, savour them.

Lessons in a Hymn

I have been doing this for myself recently. Reflecting on a world where there is conflict on every side, these words give me some comfort. They come from “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear” by the American Unitarian pastor Edmund Sears:

And man, at war with man, hears not The love-song which they bring; Oh hush the noise, ye men of strife, And hear the angels sing!

It is a reminder to us that we cannot hope to hear words of peace if all we are focused on is the noise of war. But when we have hope that God’s kingdom will one day reign, we can imagine a new world.

When Peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splendours fling, And the whole world give back the song Which now the angels sing.

The vision of a new world is a theme which recurs in several carols. That is hardly surprising since that is the underlying promise of Christmas. When “God is with us”, the world can never be the same again. It may not change in an instant, but the possibility of transformation is now real. Our response to the Christmas message is to do what we can, in whatever situation we are in, to bring about that transformation.

At the Denis Hurley Centre in Durban, that is something of which we are very conscious since we operate in the shadow of Emmanuel Cathedral — and Emmanuel means “God is with us”.

Our Christmas season begins dramatically on the Day of Reconciliation when every year we host a Meal of Reconciliation, an opportunity for people of all backgrounds to come together to share a meal. Last year, we were honoured to be joined by Nozuko Teto, a rising opera star, who sang “The Holy City” (the one with the “Jerusalem” chorus). And these words stood out for me:

And once again the scene was changed,
New earth there seemed to be,
I saw the Holy City
Beside the tideless sea;

The light of God was on its streets,
The gates were open wide,
And all who would might enter,
And no one was denied.

Durban is definitely not beside a tideless sea, but so much of the rest resonated. I looked around a hall filled with 300 people eating together, homeless and housed, all religions, all races, all generations. They were there because no one was denied. And I wondered if, in some small way, we were being given a glimpse of that Holy City:

Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
Hark! how the angels sing,
Hosanna in the highest,
Hosanna to your king!