Discovering the Songs of Christmas

Just in time for Christmas!

A Hymn for Candlemas: Adorna, Sion, Thalamum

Here is my translation of Adorna, Sion, Thalamum, for the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord:

Let Zion's bridal-room be clothed:
He comes, her Lord and her Betrothed.
Let man and woman, by faith's light,
A vigil keep throughout the night.

Saint Simeon, sent forth in joy,
Exults to see the baby Boy.
The Light through Whom all things are known

Is now to all the nations shown.

His parents to the temple bring
The Temple as an offering
The righteousness of law He chose
Though to the law He nothing owes.

So, Mary, bring this little one,
Yours and the Father's only Son
Through whom our offering is made
By whom our ransom price is paid.

And forward, queen of virgins, go
And let rejoicing overflow
With gifts bring forth your newborn Son
Who comes to rescue everyone.

Lord Jesus Christ, the Glory bright

Who guides the nations into light

Be praised, and for eternity

Be glorified, O Trinity. Amen.

Translation c. 2009 Kathleen Pluth. All rights reserved.

Abedecerian (Latin for Alphabetical)

Whilst perusing the Christmas section of the Liber Hymnarius, with a view towards translating its ancient hymns, I discovered the beautiful A solis ortus cardine. It is an acrostic hymn, so that each verse begins with a successive letter of the alphabet: a, b, c.

Now this may seem like a frivolous organizing principle for a venerable hymn, but the practice has roots in an even more venerable hymn form: the Psalm. Psalms 119 and 145, for example, are acrostic Psalms.

Turns out that the hymn, which ends at I for Iesu, is actually only the first part of the hymn that continues on H for Herod, and is the Epiphany hymn Hostis Herdodes Impie.

Songs of Thankfulness and Praise--or--An Epiphany Hymn that Isn't We Three Kings

Merry Christmas!

I've been getting some traffic related to an archived post on the hymn Songs of Thankfulness and Praise.

Just thought I'd mentioned that I've programmed this hymn for the next two weeks: both Epiphany and the Baptism of the Lord. The first time we will sing it as a choir-led meditation; the second week as the Offertory hymn, which is generally sung by the whole congregation. Since we don't have pre-Mass singing rehearsals at my parish, I've found that to be a helpful way to introduce a hymn.

The tune Salzburg is also the tune used in Worship III for At the Lamb's High Feast, so it is familiar, but we haven't sung it since last Eastertide. So a refresher will likely be helpful.

Advent or Christmas Hymns--a Poll

Here at The Church Geek: http://www.thechurchgeek.com/archives/952

From Pope Benedict's Christmas Homily

"Christmas is a feast of restored creation. It is in this context that the Fathers interpret the song of the angels on that holy night: it is an expression of joy over the fact that the height and the depth, Heaven and Earth, are once more united; that man is again united to God. According to the Fathers, part of the angels’ Christmas song is the fact that now angels and men can sing together and in this way the beauty of the universe is expressed in the beauty of the song of praise. Liturgical song – still according to the Fathers – possesses its own peculiar dignity through the fact that it is sung together with the celestial choirs. It is the encounter with Jesus Christ that makes us capable of hearing the song of the angels, thus creating the real music that fades away when we lose this singing-with and hearing-with."

Coventry Carol

Nice post by Confessing Reader.

To Do: Settings for the poems of Robert Southwell

Behold the father is his daughter's son,
The bird that built the nest is hatched therein,
The old of years an hour hath not outrun,
Eternal life to live doth now begin,
The Word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep,
Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep.

O dying souls, behold your living spring;
O dazzled eyes, behold your sun of grace;
Dull ears, attend what word this Word doth bring;
Up, heavy hearts, with joy your joy embrace.
From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs,
This life, this light, this Word, this joy repairs.

Gift better than himself God doth not know;
Gift better than his God no man can see.
This gift doth here the giver given bestow;
Gift to this gift let each receiver be.
God is my gift, himself he freely gave me;
God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me.

Man altered was by sin from man to beast;
Beast's food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh.
Now God is flesh and lies in manger pressed
As hay, the brutest sinner to refresh.
O happy field wherein this fodder grew,
Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew.

Robert Southwell, English Jesuit Martyr, 1561-1595

Starts Off Well, but fails to complete its course.

Sadly, I must take issue with this otherwise half-lovely hymn of the fine author Reginald Heber, who also gave us Holy, Holy, Holy ("casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea") and the excellent Virgin-Born, We Bow Before You.

Here we have an Epiphany hymn in dancing dactyls, a song to the star that led the sages to the Lord. Verses 1 and 2 very effectively convey the joy of the pilgrims on the road, coming closer!

But then for some reason, likely a bad theological reason, verses 3 and 4 flatten the joy with a strange dichotomization: we have no sacrifice, no gift, but God will accept our love.

What a strange thing to say! In what universe does love come without cost? Have we nothing to give? Or are we as stingy as the man who buried the coin he was given to invest?

"Beloved, let us love in deed and in truth, and not merely talk about it.

"Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,

Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid;

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.

Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining;

Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,

Maker and Monarch and Savior of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,

Odors of Edom and offerings divine?

Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,

Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly with gifts would His favor secure;

Richer by far is the heart’s adoration,

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Sing We Now of Nonsense

In two of the Christmas hymns they sang repeatedly in Cologne, there was a small refrain within the text, "Eja, eja." What does that mean? Well, it was pretty obvious when singing it, and possibly confirmed by a quick skim through my German-English dictionary, that it means nothing, really. It doesn't signify in the way that words usually signify. It neither names nor describes.

But it does express.

As he passed the collection basket, one of the Cathedral docents was singing along, and instead of singing the second "eja" on two notes as written (la-sol), he sang it on four (la-sol-fa-sol)--a little more spring in its step. I heard others skip one of his notes in another variation (la-fa-sol).

Here were a bunch of grownups, singing a word of Christmas, a word of joy.

Update: Well, no wonder I couldn't find "eja" in the German-English dictionary. It is a Latin word! It means--nothing. Eia and heia, interj. (I) expressing joy or surprise, oho! well!: (II) in exhortation, come on!

In Dulci Jubilo

A tribute from a Dominican-in-Training to an elder brother, Blessed Henry Suso, OP, and his hymn In Dulci Jubilo.

As originally written, the hymn is macaronic. (Not like Yankee Doodle's feather.) Macaronic verse mixes two or more languages. The effects include the delight of surprise, the joy of rediscovering an understanding that surpasses the bounds of a single language, and exuberance in general. In Christian terms, it means the breaking down of the dividing wall that kept us apart: Jew and Gentile, Cretans and Scythians, Medes and Greeks. The curse of Babel gives way to the gift of tongues, in Him in Whom we find our salvation, and in His Holy Spirit. This particular victory is missing in the nonetheless joyful Anglicized version, Good Christian Men, Rejoice, which has merits of its own--but not those of the English (translated by Robert Pearsall from the German original)/ Latin version:

1. In dulci jubilo
Let us our homage show:
Our heart's joy reclineth
In praesepio;
And like a bright star shineth
Matris in gremio,
Alpha es et O! Alpha es et O!

2. O Jesu parvule,
My heart is sore for Thee!
Here me, I beseech Thee,
O puer optime;
My praying let it reach Thee!
O princeps gloriae.
Trahe me post te. Trahe me post te.

3. O patris caritas!
O Nati lenitas!
Deeply were we stained
Per nostra crimina:
But Thou for us hast gained
Coelorum gaudia,
Qualis gloria! Qualis gloria!

4. Ubi sunt gaudia?
If that they be not there?
There are Angels singing
Nova cantica;
And there the bells are ringing
In Regis curia.
O that we were there! O that we were there!

Christmas in Cologne

Cologne is not the place to go if you're looking for a warm and sunny Christmas Day. It's not the place to go for Christmas dinner--the food is fine, but my mom's is better, and at home there aren't any surly German waiters to accommodate. It's certainly not the place to go shopping: all the shops were closed three days in a row, Sunday, Christmas, and The Day After Christmas, and in any case most of the stores in the mall did everything possible to resemble nightclubs for the Italian teenagers. (At least, when I went to a night club once, that is what it was like.)

But Cologne at Christmas is a hymnwriter's paradise.

In the Archdiocese of Cologne, which has its own handy prayer book/ hymnal, hymns are even used in places where they frankly shouldn't be. Instead of the Gloria, they might sing an obviously beloved Christmas hymn whose refrain is "Ehre sei Gott im der Hoehe"--"Glory to God in the highest". (Mp3) Sometimes that same hymn is used for the Sanctus. Similar substututions are made for almost all the acclamations, except the Memorial Acclamation (of which they apparently have just one) and the Amen. Even the Creed is sometimes replaced with a hymn. In American churches, one often wonders whether one will be the only person genuflecting at et Verbum caro factum est; at the Christmas Masses I attended, the Creed did not include that line!

Racks of handbooks are available in all of the churches as you walk in for Mass. They have some kind of programming that allows them to project the hymn numbers and verses (e.g. 840, 1 + 4) in a small square of light on the wall. The people really sing. The organists were almost all excellent, although one had that bad habit of following the congregation instead of leading, with the ultimate result that no one in the entire church had any clue when to come in. There is no downbeat anymore when that happens. They didn't have cantors (unless the organist filled that role as well) and for the first time I realized how important cantors are. It didn't matter on the familiar songs, like Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen, but on the more unusual songs, people had trouble singing along.

Except for Christmas Mass at one parish which seems to groan beneath the weight of a number of resident liturgists, all of the Masses I attended were remarkable for their reverence. Which just goes to show you. In the US church, a wrong usage such as the substitution of a hymn for the Sanctus would be alarmingly decried as "liturgical abuse" and equated with irreverence. One must admit it is a mistake, and a serious one. But it did not seem agenda-driven or iconoclastic or anti-ultra-montane. It just seemed like a problem that I hope they'll address.

In the meantime, you've gotta admit that it's pretty sweet to sing, in the great Koelner Dom on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming. Whose third verse, a late addition to the hymn text and only weakly translated into English, is pure pleasure to sing in the German. Fanatical as it may sound, singing the first line alone was worth the trip.

Das Blümelein, so kleine, das duftet uns so süß,
Mit seinem hellen Scheine vertreibt's die Finsternis.
Wahr' Mensch und wahrer Gott,
hilft uns aus allen Leiden,
Rettet von Sünd' und Tod.

The Feast of the Epiphany will be celebrated this Sunday in the Catholic Church, although its more traditional date is today, January 6th, the Twelfth Day of Christmas.

From what I understand from Orthodox friends, the Epiphany--the manifestation of the Lord to the Gentiles--is the more prominent Feast in their Churches. It is the more prominent feast in El Salvador as well, as I understand from another amigo. Children receive their presents today, and toda la familia celebran con muchos tamales y pupusas, y con mucha cervesa y horchata. Sounds delicious.

The point is that the Lord, who is barely known even to "his own," (Greek: ton idion), is being shown to all the world--a world-scale theophany. Epi-phano: I show forth, I appear. The God of Israel, made flesh, is beginning his mission to the Gentiles. During second Vespers, the Marian Antiphon links this manifestation with that of the Wedding Feast at Cana and the Theophany at Jesus' Baptism (I took this from my publisher's website):

Three mysteries mark this holy day: today the star leads the Magi to theinfant Christ; today water is changed into wine for the wedding feast; today Christ wills to be baptized by John in the river Jordan to bring us salvation.

The "today"s recall the beautiful second Vespers antiphon from Christmas, as on The Confessing Reader:

Hodie Christus natus est;
hodie Salvator apparuit;
hodie in terra canunt angeli, letantur archangeli;
hodie exultent justi, dicentes:Gloria in excelsis Deo! Alleluia.

Today Christ is born;
today the Savior has appeared;
today on the earth the angels sing, archangels rejoice,
today the just exult, saying: Glory to God in the highest! Alleluia.

In my first hymn for the Epiphany, I say "At the Lord's appearing in His virgin birth/ Sudden grace and glory rush around the earth" (same tune as At the Name of Jesus). Sometimes I get a little befuddled, though, thinking about the grace that is given. When did Christ come and appear? At the Annunciation? Or more fully at Christmas?

Some say it happened most significantly on the Epiphany, because this was his appearance to the nations.

Of the Father's love begotten,
ere the worlds began to be,
he is Alpha and Omega,
he the source, the ending he,
of the things that are, that have been,
and that future years shall see,
evermore and evermore!

O that birth for ever blessèd,
when the Virgin, full of grace,
by the Holy Ghost conceiving,
bare the Savior of our race;
and the Babe, the world's Redeemer,
first revealed his sacred face,
evermore and evermore!
O ye heights of heaven, adore him;
angel-hosts, his praises sing;
powers, dominions, bow before him,
and extol our God and King;
let no tongue on earth be silent,
every voice in concert ring,
evermore and evermore!

Christ, to thee with God the Father,
and, O Holy Ghost, to thee,
hymn and chant and high thanksgiving,
and unwearied praises be;
honor, glory and dominion,
and eternal victory,
evermore and evermore!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Words: Marcus Aurelius Clemens Prudentius (348-413);trans. John Mason Neale (1818-1866), 1854;and Henry Williams Baker (1821-1877), 1861Music: Divinum mysterium (Corde natus)Meter: 87 87 87 7

The Little Drummer Boy

There is so much good in The Little Drummer Boy that it is difficult to begin, knowing that so much must be left out. Just a little on the first verse, then.

"'Come,' they told me." Right away the description is dynamic. "They"--the 3 Kings?--are moving past, on their way. They don't stop, but call the boy to join them. There are two verbs: one is imperative in mood, present in tense. The second is the narrative past. The boy is describing a memory, but one that has a present imperative force. From the first word, the singer is drawn into the narrative.

Note the brief anglo-saxon words that say parr um pum pum pum before the drums even kick in. Come. pum. pum. pum."

A newborn king to see." This sounds weakest of the lines to modern ears, but this is probably because we've lost this usage of the infinitive, perhaps best called the infinitive of intention, or the infinitive of determination. "My true love for to see." It's easily understood, however."

Our finest gifts we bring/ To lay before the king." Again the multiple tenses add layers of dramatic tension to the song. "Bring" is a narrative present--not the narrative past of the drummer boy's present story, but the present of the travellers' past. "To lay"--a softer use of the infinitive of intention: "bring to lay" is the whole verb. We'd say that nowadays.

"So to honor him." The first four vowels are different sounds of the o. The linguistic effect is that of a piccolo, the tune as simple as do-re-mi-mi-mi. Any child could pick it out on the piano, but it's much more pretty to hear them sing.