december 2009 newsletter...
o holy night...
For several years, I have wondered about the carol, O Holy Night. It's one of my favorites. I love the grand way the music builds, when I hear it sung simply and purely. My curiosity about the carol, however, has little to do with the music and everything to do with the words. It's the history teacher in me. Look at the last verse:
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His Gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother
And in His Name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy Name!
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
The line about the slave being our brother first caught my attention, and I began wondering whether the carol had been written during the abolition movement. So I did a little research, and it's a fascinating story. In France, in 1847, a small-town parish priest asked local poet and wine commissionaire Placide Cappeau to write a poem for Christmas. The song quickly became popular. A few years later, however, Cappeau became a socialist and the Church promptly banned the song as possessing "nothing of the spirit of religion." This is where the story really gets interesting: As the U.S. Civil War drew near, an ardent abolitionist named John Sullivan Dwight discovered the French carol and translated it into English. The song became an instant hit and was sung all over the North throughout the Civil War. Incidentally, O Holy Night was also the first song to be broadcast on radio, in 1906. You can count this as your 2009 Nativity History lesson.
Noticing the slave line of the carol, however, made me pay attention to the rest of this beautiful poem. Perhaps the poem possesses nothing of the spirit of "religion." Cappeau's words, though, are soaked in the spirit of Christ. Maybe that's better. Cappeau beautifully expresses the hope that we have through the birth of Christ. Oppression of every kind will one day come to an end. Peace and joy belong to us now because of this hope. The most powerful part of this poem comes at the end of each verse, when Cappeau commands a response to the nature of Christ revealed to us: Fall on your knees! It's not enough to smile and nod when Christ confronts us with his power to end oppression. This kind of power demands submission.
The beauty and challenge of this submission is that we submit to the law of love and the gospel of peace. When we practice this submission, we then experience the fulfillment that makes us want to raise "sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus." As I closed out this third semester in India, that's where I found myself. I have a profound sense that God has carved a meaningful space for me at Woodstock. I am humbled, so fulfilled, and at peace with making a life in India. I'm beginning to find the concrete opportunities to share love and peace with others.
November's highlight came with the establishment of a philosophy discussion group in my home - at the instigation of students. About twenty juniors and seniors showed up for chocolate-chip waffles and some heavy discussion. To get us going, I asked everyone how they test new ideas: When they hear a new philosophical concept, how do they decide whether it is believable or not? We meandered around for about an hour, with students wading through what is actually a tough question. It did not take long for students to agree that rationality is not enough. We want so much more than an idea that simply makes sense (though that's important). We want a rich and full life that develops our whole person. In the back of my mind, I kept hearing Jesus from the book of John, "I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."
In the second hour of discussion, students turned the question back on me. Once again, I found myself explaining how I can be "so Christian." The conversation lasted about four hours, and thrilled me. For the first time, in a group setting, we openly argued and explored the viability of the Christian faith without students dismissing Christianity. The spirit of simple and earnest questioning seemed so precious. I realized again just how long it takes to build relationships to the point where vulnerable conversation becomes possible. Perhaps that is one more evidence of the Fall.
All the more reason to bother to stay in one place and begin digging down roots. Just towards the end of the semester, I began to see that relationships with colleagues had reached a new level of ease. Co-workers started to share more of their life stories, even the difficult parts. I felt like some very real barrier had been crossed, in the same way as with the discussion group. Trust comes slowly, and people carry around with them so many old wounds and scars. I am excited to gain entrance and to be able to hold out the promise of peace to others.
I am learning about a whole new form of oppression. The chains of literal, physical slavery may have been broken in most parts of the world, but my students and some colleagues daily struggle against the oppression of their own feelings of meaninglessness. We have the world at our virtual fingertips. By clicking a few keys, we can read or watch almost anything humans have ever produced. We can google-earth the remotest spots on the planet. We obsessively map our location at all times. Yet we remain lost. We experience more than any generation before us. Yet we drown in sensory overload, unable to interpret the sea of information.
So the carol continues to offer as much comfort as it did during the Civil War: "Chains shall He break, the slave is our brother, and in His Name all oppression shall cease." My students and colleagues, you and me, we all can throw off the chains of a meaningless existence. We can bind ourselves to the people around us in service. We can uncover the law of love and the gospel of peace. First, however, we must fall on our knees in submission. Please pray that I will continue to practice submission to Christ, in His love and peace. I pray the same for you.
Your fellow pilgrim,
Amy