The Hymns: Wooing Us to the Message

They say we have right and left hemispheres to the brain. They say they do different things for us. A math problem would warm and activate some parts, perhaps mostly in the left brain, and listening to a story or painting a picture would involve and activate more right brain regions. There is an old quip that poses, “to sing is to pray twice.” In our Christian hymns, our brains have a go at the message in the text, and they also are liltingly exposed to the art of the musical tune and the poetic verse in the text. Perhaps both sides of the brain are called to attention.

I would like the days leading up to Christmas Day to let a few of our Christmas hymns have a go at lifting us into the transforming Christmas mystery of our salvation. I can think of no better place to start than with what is one set to two different tunes, Hymns 78 and 79 in our current Hymnal, O Little Town of Bethlehem. The first tune used more in England, Forest Green, English melody, was adapted and harmonized by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958). The second tune we hear more often in American churches, St. Louis, by Lewis H. Redner (1835-1908).

Some of you know all five verses by heart. Most of us can be trusted only to the first verse without looking at the book. The tender, theologically rich text is the work of the gifted Episcopal priest, long time rector of Trinity Church Boston, Phillips Brooks (1835-1893). With last week’s writing theme in mind, that of God finding a way of getting into our world and our human race, indeed, into our hearts, I recommend looking at verses three through five. As you read each text, sing with the tune you like, in your head, or right out loud. This is verse three:

How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive him still the dear Christ enters in.

Notice how the universal act of God’s gift of the Christ is applied to our personal experiences. How is your heart set for letting the dear Christ enter in? The door of your heart can be opened, free as it is, by your will. Will your heart find the mode of meekness allowing this entrance? The miracle is available day by day, and certainly on an extraordinary day, our beautiful celebration—the Nativity of our Lord.

Where children pure and happy pray to the blessed Child,
where misery cries out to thee, Son of the mother mild;
where charity stands watching and faith holds wide the door,
the dark night wakes, the glory breaks, and Christmas comes once more.

In verse four the range of human opportunity is expressed: fitting occasions for love and faith to hold open the door for the grace of Christmas to come in and work its effect.  In the light and happiness of innocent children playing, and in the heart-rending desperation of human misery, these and everything in between is broad human experiences. In any of the divine charity, and willing trust can open wide the door of the heart. Through your heart, as you prop it wide, Christmas, the reality of God’s salvation, can come in. It brings up a concept promoted theologically by Augustine of Hippo that Christmas is not just a memorial feast but a sacramental one. We are not merely remembering that the birth of Jesus took place, but the reality of salvation given through the Incarnation of God is once again made present and effective afresh for you and me.

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin and enter in, be born to us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!

Verse five is an extension of that joyous theme. It is a prayer that the Child of Bethlehem, Jesus, actually descends to us. Christ effectually tosses out our sin and is born within us. In hearing the music of Christmas, we hear angels giving us news. In these songs we experience and know what is actually happening: God comes to abide with us, to heal, guard, and keep us always.