This week brings me to a special hymn because it was given to me by my father-in-law as a favourite filled with memories and life-long meaning. I don’t think he will mind me sharing his story, and it once again reminds me of how long-lasting the impact of some of these hymns can be. He recalls that as a child he observed his grandfather baptizing people outdoors and as each person emerged from the water, those gathered would sing a verse of this song. What an image. Rising from the waters of this spiritual rite and hearing your community singing in support of your faith.

When we walk with the Lord
In the light of His Word,
What a glory He sheds on our way;
While we do His good will,
He abides with us still,
And with all who will trust and obey.

I was so struck by the image of a young boy observing an elder family member practice his faith in a very real and meaningful way. This child, looking upon a spiritual leader, grew into a man who holds the memory of this demonstration dear in his heart. More than 60 years later it was still powerful enough to share. I think there is a lesson in this for all of us. We have little idea of what long-term impact our behaviour and actions have on the children around us. We can’t see into the future how an afternoon’s memory will carry someone throughout their life. We can’t predict which demonstration of our beliefs and values will be the thing that sustains through challenges or perhaps, prepares one for being the sustainer.

But we never can prove
The delights of his love
Until all on the altar we lay;
For the favor he shows,
For the joy he bestows,
Are for them who will trust and obey.

When I sat down to work on this hymn, I found myself reflecting on both the simplicity and depth of this childhood experience. But I also heard a kind of flying. Sailing up from the waters and representing a life guided firmly by one’s values; carried carefully by one’s faith. I understand that this means something different to each of us, but our ability to sow the seeds of memory that may grow into life-long sustenance requires us all to find and stand on solid ground. My hope is that this song will remind you of someone who gave you that kind of experience as a child. Or, perhaps, be a reminder that in your actions, small and large, you may be gifting something that 60 years from now will be remembered, shared and treasured.

I promise, this is it for Christmas – but I had one more to fit in from my list! This carol seemed a fitting way to bring the season to a close because what makes more sense than to share the news after a great event has taken place?

Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere;
go tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ is born.

This is an African-American Spiritual dating back to the late 1800’s, although a precise history isn’t really available. Some think it was written by Frederick Jerome Work, a black composer, teacher and scholar; and then published by his son John Wesley Work in the 1907 anthology, Folk Songs of the American Negro. Others feel that John Work simply recorded an older spiritual for the first time. Either way, it probably started life being sung by people who rarely had their voices heard. People who were not even allowed to have a voice. And yet, here is a song that is filled with joy, celebration and faith. Incredible when put in context.

To me, this kind of sums up what Christmas is. A time of celebration and joy mixed with sadness, contradiction and sometimes disappointment. For some, it is a time for reviewing the foundations of a belief system. For others, a time to renew relationships and celebrate family. In amongst all of that, for many it brings to the surface reminders of loneliness, loss and pain.   If we consider the historical context of the African-American Spiritual in the late 1800s, we find a people emerging from a civil war with new found freedoms – cause for celebration. Yet, this emergence was fraught with conflict, danger and challenges that, it could be argued, continue to this day. The example provided by these old songs is powerful. The ability to sing despite the challenges is inspirational. The deep desire to move beyond circumstances that were and are beyond one’s control brings tears to my eyes because of its strength and courage. The faith relied upon to do this is more than I can really understand, and is something to be considered.

When I am a seeker, I seek both night and day;
I seek the Lord to help me, and He shows me the way:
Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere;
go tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ is born.

As we shift past all the festivities of this season, I come away with a renewed sense that music provides something very powerful. I see it in this Spiritual and have seen it in so many places over the past few weeks. The words and tunes that are so familiar and longstanding are that way for a reason. I am reminded of a video that was circulating on the internet recently. An older Jewish woman was singing to an African-American Alzheimer’s patient. As she sang “He’s Got the Whole World In His Hands” there was suddenly a recognition from deep inside someone whose voice had been lost, and this lovely woman started to sing along. Here two women shared a beautiful moment – and it didn’t matter at all that they were of different faiths, they simply enabled each other to sing together despite the circumstances. So I leave you with this, let us sing it together.

He’s got the whole world in his hands;
She’s got the whole world in her hands;
We’ve got the whole world in our hands.

Merry Christmas.

The fourth Sunday of Advent is a celebration of love. This 15th century carol beautifully portrays the gift of a baby, the mother who bears him and the sweet fragrance that fills the air upon his birth.

Lo, how a rose e’er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse’s lineage coming
As men of old have sung.
It came, a flow’ret bright,
Amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.

We are reminded that this is an act of love that brings us the fulfillment of a prophecy of old.

Isaiah ’twas foretold it,
The Rose I have in mind.
With Mary we behold it,
The virgin mother kind.
To show God’s love aright,
She bore to us a Savior,
When half spent was the night.

We are reminded that this is a moment where our humanity and God meet – become one. This union offering an opportunity to bring light into a dark world.

Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispel with glorious splendour
The darkness everywhere.
True man, yet very God,
From Sin and death he saves us,
And lightens every load.

This is a carol that has been sung by both Catholic and Protestant traditions for hundreds of years. There is some variation in the word ‘rose’ in the original German. Some versions use Ros’ as in the flower itself, a mystical kind of representation of Mary. Others use the word Reis which means a branch and speaks to the tree of Jesse, or his lineage. Either way, we are talking about a beautiful tribute to the belief that Jesus was born in a context. In a history of a people waiting for a saviour, birthing this saviour and then welcoming him and all he represented. This is not so different from what many of us experience as we welcome new lives into our families or communities and watch them blossom and grow.

Can the example of this generous love carry us through this week? Whether we are with those we love or not?   I don’t know.  Because although these are beautiful words, they are not the whole story. I think we can assume Mary’s way was not so easy given the circumstances of her pregnancy. There were certainly many challenges facing this tiny baby, many that would not have felt filled with love. I think we know that countless people find themselves feeling unloved, unable to love or missing loved ones during this season. Maybe that’s why the tune of this carol is so melancholy. Yes, the love displayed in God’s gift can be seen as glorious, but the space in which we accept that gift may not be. So I share this haunting love song. May its words help lighten the load, or simply accompany you as you continue to carry whatever life has given you.

This Sunday marks the end of the liturgical calendar. It is the final feast of the Christian year before we start all over again with Advent. Sometimes called “Christ the King” Sunday, it is meant to be a reminder of Christ’s power and the related gifts given by God. This festival was only established in 1925 by the Roman Catholic Church and was, at the time, meant to challenge the secularization of society. Well, I can’t say I am particularly concerned with or interested in that sort of focus, but I do kind of like the idea of saying goodnight to one year, reflecting on what’s occurred and moving into the new year with a spirit of peace and gratitude.

So I present a lullaby. It was suggested by a friend’s father who is, I think, in his eighties. He shared that he has very clear and fond memories of his grandmother singing this to him when he was a small boy. Another hymn that I hadn’t thought of in a while, his story triggered my own memories of my mother singing this to me. Now, I am not the most reliable for memory recollection, so I consulted with my brother and sister and both confirmed that this was indeed our lullaby. My brother thought our maternal grandmother sang it as well. The hymn is said to be a traditional Moravian song that begins to show up in print in a German hymnbook around 1693. So it’s old and has, based on what I’ve been told, been sung to children for at least eighty years. And I suspect many, many more.

Gott ist die Liebe, lässt mich erlösen;
Gott ist die Liebe, er liebt auch mich.
Drum sag’ ich noch einmal: Gott ist die Liebe.
Gott ist die Liebe, er liebt auch mich.

I can’t even hear this one in English, but the gist of it is that God is love and loves even me. Another simple, comforting sentiment. This can mean many things and probably varies for whomever is interpreting it, but for me it speaks to our intrinsic value. Something as great as a divine being loving me is a powerful source of strength and encouragement. However we see the details of the Divine, this kind of recognition and care requires us to be more than we sometimes feel like or think we can be. What a lovely thing to sing to a child. As we end one year and prepare to start the next, my hope is that this reminder serves to encourage us to learn from the past, and prepare for the future with the knowledge of this almighty, loving support.