We have arrived at one of the most frequently requested hymns on my list for this year. I don’t suppose that the reason for this is a great mystery – it is a hymn so familiar, with words that bring real comfort and assurance. Written in 1923 by Thomas O. Chisholm, it tells of God’s faithfulness throughout a lifetime. These are words that speak to the magnitude of the Divine. I love that it unapologetically requires me to consider something greater than myself.
Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above;
Join with all nature in manifold witness,
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.
There were quite a few stories and comments accompanying the requests for this one. A number of people mentioned that this had been sung at a funeral of someone close to them. Some shared that certain words brought…
I suppose I should have started this year of song by defining what a hymn is. The word hymn comes from the Greek word hymnos which means a song of praise. This is a fairly common definition, but many also add that a hymn is a song of joy, thanksgiving, adoration and prayer. While most of us probably associate hymns with the Christian church, it would be difficult for one religious group to claim them entirely. The ancient Egyptians had hymns, as did the ancient Greeks (the Homeric Hymns), the Hindu tradition (the Vedas) and of course, we can’t forget the Psalms of Judaism. I’m sure there are many others – past and present. There is something quite basic about using words and music to express our deepest emotions.
This understanding of the diversity and history of hymnody brings us to today’s selection. September 21st is the UN International Day…
Let us break bread together on our knees. Let us break bread together on our knees. When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun, O Lord, have mercy on me.
Let us drink wine together on our knees. Let us drink wine together on our knees. When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun, O Lord, have mercy on me.
I’ve always liked this Spiritual. It is traditionally used by many as a communion hymn, for obvious reasons. The ritual of sharing the bread and wine in Christian worship is honoured with the humility of partaking on one’s knees. It is a powerful statement of our smallness, and God’s greatness. And very meaningful for many who adhere to this belief system. Quite beautiful.
But as I thought about these words and the haunting music, I found myself drawn to the history of this African-American Spiritual – and how it speaks to our communities, our friendships, our fellowship.
While it is not certain, there is speculation that this song originated with slaves from West Africa. The line, “When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,” is said to reflect the West African tradition of the sun being the source of spiritual light. There may also, as in many Spirituals, be hidden in these words an indication that a secret meeting is to take place, “when I fall on my knees.”
For me, these are important ideas. The words provide us with guidance to humbly, on our knees, eat and drink together. Whether we do so in a spiritual sense, or simply socially, the request to do so is deeply felt. And deeply invited. We need our communities. They carry us. Even when we are forced to meet in secret. Or perhaps more common for most of us, when we seek out those with whom we have common experiences, challenges, pain, compassion or empathy. We carry us.
And then we face the rising sun. I can’t imagine a more beautiful image. Seeking mercy in the light we all share each morning. Whenever I travel, I am struck that I share the sun and the sky with every single person on this planet. The sun is life for all. On our knees we can see its brightness, feel its warmth and share its illumination. This is a spectacular mercy. A reminder that we may commune in small ways, with small groups of friends, family and religious or spiritual communities, but in reality, we eat and drink as a whole world. When we fall on our knees in the radiant sunshine, we are asked to consider that the meal is not ours alone. It is shared.
The sunlight reveals where mercy is needed. It allows us to lift our faces together. And shows us how when we do, we see each other.
It has been some months since I last posted anything. Today I am feeling the need to explore something – really anything – that reminds me that there is good in this world. I know that there is, but day after day we are inundated with reports of our species’ ability to be selfish; our ability to hate. If one read the bulk of our news in isolation one would think this is all we are.
So I hauled out my hymnbook and started flipping through its familiar pages. These words, written by John Keble in 1827, jumped out at me.
Sun of my soul, thou Savior dear, It is not night if thou are near. Oh, may no earthborn cloud arise To hide thee from thy servant’s eyes.
Abide with me from morn till eve, For without thee I cannot live. Abide with me when night is nigh, For without thee I dare not die.
Watch by the sick, enrich the poor With blessings from thy boundless store. Be ev’ry mourner’s sleep tonight, Like infants’ slumbers, pure and light.
Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take, Till in the ocean of thy love We lose ourselves in heav’n above.
I was initially drawn to the title of this hymn; the simple concept of there being a sun of my soul. Imagine if we as a whole group, were each able to find something that illuminated our souls? Something that shone upon rather than clouded our judgments; something that allowed us to bring light into this world rather than hatred. There are many things that do that. For some of us it is faith, for others it is creativity, relationships, curiosity, nature. For some it is all of these things. What scares me is that all of these things can also close our eyes and extinguish the sun. Our self-centred pursuit of faith, creativity, curiosity, money and things – power and authority – place us in dimly lit corridors that are narrow and crowded. Corridors that we start protecting as though everything outside their walls is a threat.
When I read these words, the ideas are broad. They may speak to a particular understanding of what this sun is, but they are not small and they are not selfish. Earthly clouds cannot block the sun – it is strong. That which is our goodness requires us to protect every mourner’s sleep, watch over the sick and enrich the poor. Blessings are boundless. There are oceans of love.
This is what sunlight does. It keeps us alive. It makes things grow. It is for everyone, not the few. So as I consider the hatred in this great big world, the selfishness and the pain, I look to the sky and see that beautiful light that I share with 7.5 billion others and understand that my soul needs to know that we are alive together. Our hatred does not define us. We are beautiful in our differences, in our creativity, in our faiths. We are one.
I must admit that the past few weeks have been distressing. We are living in a strange time. Politics have overwhelmed us. Many of us find ourselves at odds with friends and family. We are bein…
I must admit that the past few weeks have been distressing. We are living in a strange time. Politics have overwhelmed us. Many of us find ourselves at odds with friends and family. We are being challenged to stand up for what we believe; to find our voices. I needed to process all of this, and I needed to speak to it. But what a challenge. What will my voice say? What will it sound like? Who will it offend? Who will it encourage?
As I searched for a hymn that might help me find my way, I came across this one. A beautiful, haunting tune, with powerful lyrics, written in 1846 by Horatius Bonar. As soon as I read the words, I knew they spoke to what was troubling me.
I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Come unto me and rest; lay down, O weary one, lay down your head upon my breast.” I came to Jesus as I was, so weary, worn, and sad; I found in him a resting place, and he has made me glad.
I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Behold, I freely give the living water, thirsty one, stoop down and drink and live.” I came to Jesus, and I drank of that life-giving stream; my thirst was quenched, my soul revived, and now I live in him.
I heard the voice of Jesus say, “I am this dark world’s light; look unto me; your morn shall rise, and all your day be bright.” I looked to Jesus, and I found in him my star, my sun; and in that light of life I’ll walk till traveling days are done.
As always, I appreciate that different people will read these words differently. But, I was struck by their relevance to the current situation in North America – and many other places in this world. The offer of rest, shelter, water – life – is clear. This is the example we are given. This is what we have been offered, this is what we are to provide. We are not asked what we believe. We are not asked where we are from. We are not even asked what we have done. We are simply given a light to travel with, and provisions for the journey.
I read these words as a guide to what we can offer. There is no exchange involved. Our own comfort and safety are not part of the equation. Although the promise of the sun rising and filling our days with brightness is there, this is about what life becomes when we are truly willing to share all that is good with those around us. With those in need; with those that are different. For me, the value lies in what we can learn about ourselves and how we should behave, not in a self-centred attempt to make the rest of the world a reflection of who we are and what we believe.
With increasing difficulty, I still identify as a Christian because that is the space I was born into and I am fortunate to be part of a community that values diversity and justice. But it is time for us to understand that the example found in Christ supersedes the religion created in his name. I am dismayed by what some preach. I am heartbroken by what some are willing to accept. And I will admit that when I read some of the things being said and done in the name of Christianity, I am disgusted. They reflect nothing of this hymn’s simple words. They reflect nothing of the example we’ve been given.
This is difficult to write. It is difficult because it requires me to speak with a voice not all will understand. But if I replace the name of Jesus in this hymn with my own, it is the voice I want heard by whomever needs to hear the words.
I found in her a resting place, and she has made me glad.
What Child is this who, laid to rest On Mary’s lap is sleeping? Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet, While shepherds watch are keeping? This, this is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard an…
What Child is this who, laid to rest On Mary’s lap is sleeping? Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet, While shepherds watch are keeping? This, this is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing; Haste, haste, to bring Him laud, The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Christmas is a funny time. It means so many different things to so many different people. It is joy; it is peace. It is chaos; it is stress. It stirs up questions about privilege – both as a holiday demanding priority over other traditions, and as a time when the use and flaunting of wealth and consumerism are at a peak. It encourages giving; it claims to be a time of kindness. It opens wounds of loneliness and grief; it brings us together.
For me, Christmas is a time to celebrate friendships and treasured family members. A time to be immersed in the beauty of music that expresses sacred images, sacred experiences. My particular tradition involves the story of a mother who cradles her child in a humble stable. A child she has been told will offer a great gift to the world. It is a story of peace. It is a story of hope. A story promising that kindness and love can permeate and change a world filled with pain, chaos and stress. A story that grows into an example of justice for all; rejection of none.
This Christmas story is one of peace and hope despite our frequent failures to achieve what was intended – as a church and as individuals. Those that came to honour this child, remind me that there are other traditions, religions, belief systems, ideologies and perspectives that also offer this hope; other stories to hear, to treasure, to inspire. There are many, many ways to envision a peace filled world. This happens to be mine.
I share this haunting melody with you as a reminder of the sadness we see in our world. I share it as a reminder of the beauty. I share it as a reminder to myself to consider the gifts I can give; the joy I can spread.
And, I wish you a Merry Christmas.
So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh, Come peasant, king to own Him; The King of kings salvation brings, Let loving hearts enthrone Him. Raise, raise a song on high, The virgin sings her lullaby. Joy, joy for Christ is born, The Babe, the Son of Mary.
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