Good news from the Church of England here

Another first woman in the unenviable position of being historical, of being watched, of being lauded, or being insulted, of being called...

May God bless you, Libby,

With true friends to share the joys and sorrows,

With indefatigable courage and the infinite capacity for diasspointment

With moments of unbridalled laughter and fathomless love

With compassion and grace, confidence and humility

And with a real sense of fulfilment as, through you, God blesses others

And, in the words of one Afrcian Archbishop - Yippee!

This link was sent to me by a friend - after I had appeared at church last Sunday wearing my Christmas sweatshirt:

Thankfully the Baptist Union of Lilliput has no such canons!  In any case, surely a grey jumper is suitably penitential for Advent (no violet available!).  Just wait for the Christmas Day one, that's all I'm saying :-)

BPW 397 - Thou art the everlasting Word, by Josiah Conder, early to mid nineteenth century, and a hymn I don't think I've ever looked at before. 

I don't have any idea if anyone is actually following this hymnic (is there such a word?) Advent Calendar, but I am enjoying discovering the hymn/carol for each new day; many well known and loved, some less known and some new.  This one is new to me, and so different, that I think I like it!

Thou art the everlasting Word,
the Father's only Son;
God, manifestly seen and heard,
and heaven's belovèd one.
    Worthy, O Lamb of God, art thou
    that every knee to thee should bow.

In thee, most perfectly expressed,
the Father's glories shine;
of the full deity possessed,
eternally divine:
    Chorus.

True image of the infinite,
whose essence is concealed;
brightness of uncreated light;
the heart of God revealed:
    Chorus.

But the high mysteries of thy name
an angel's grasp transcend:
the Father only-glorious claim-
the Son can comprehend:
    Chorus.

Yet, loving thee, on whom his love
ineffably doth rest,
thy glorious worshippers above,
as one with thee, are blest:
    Chorus.

Throughout the universe of bliss
the centre thou, and sun;
the eternal theme of praise is this,   
to heaven's belovèd one:
    Chorus.

Josiah Conder (1789-1855)
Public Domain

HymnQuest has a whale of a time identifying scriptural links for this hymn - whether Conder intended them is another matter!  Clearly there are Johannine echoes - the Word made flesh - and a sense of awe and wonder that too often seems to be missing in later hymnody.

The mystery exressed in Rosetti's "heaven cannot hold him, not earth sustain" is also seen here, in less gooey terms.  Angels cannot comprehend it any more than earhtly creatures - it is mystery, mysterion.  We don't need to comprehend, don't need to make sense of it, it just is... maybe that's a helpful reminder as we enter the final gallop to Christmas...?  Less logic, more logos?  Less analysis, more angels?  Less cerebral, more celestial? Less adult, more child?  Less angst, more awe?  Something like that anyway!

I can't find a video of this being sung, but if you search for the tune "Palmyra" there are assorted tinny electronic versions online!!  Does not do justice to what is actually a lovely hymn.

Although I wrote htis for a serivce on the evneing of Advent 3, I sense it might better fit Advent 4, where the focus in Mary... feel free to use if it works for you!

In her famous poem-cum-carol, Christina Rosetti penned these words:

Enough for him, whom cherubim worship night and day,

A breast full of milk, and a manger full of hay...

There came a day when Mary, realising that milk was no longer sufficient succour for her child, took bread, broke and handed him a small piece, smiling to herself as his eyes widened at the unfamiliar texture and taste…

Week by week, as the setting sun heralded Shabbat, Mary would light the lamps and intone the prayers, watched by the keen eyes of her eldest child… 

And the day came when this boy was old enough to participate in the special Shabbat of Passover, asking the traditional questions, evoking the familiar responses, and for the first time sipping the rich, red, bitter wine…

Year by year, growing, observing, participating, experiencing… 

Then one year the man hired a guest room and gathered his friends for this festival of festivals…

The bread held in his hands, the years rolling backwards to that first time… the familiar words of the blessing, the gentle tearing of the bread, and the shocking words, “this is my body… broken… for you…” 

The cup lifted for all to see, the memories of Passovers past… the soothing, familiar blessing spoken softly… and the heart-breaking cry, “this is my blood… poured out… for you… for many…”

An old memorial reimagined?

A new born rite?

Violence as the way of peace?

Darkness leading to light?

Mystery

Mystery

Mystery

So we gather, drawn from the shadows of observing in to the heart of the story

To break bread

To sip wine

And to live the memory of Mary’s son.

Let us pray:

Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, through you goodness we have this bread and this wine, produce of earth and work of human endeavour. 

May we find blessing in the sharing and nourishment for the journeying as remember

Amen.

[sharing of bread and wine without (or with if you prefer) further words]

Son of Mary, you shared our frail humanity

Son of David, you began the reign of eternity

Son of God, you bring us peace.

BPW 320, a hymn I don't think I have ever sung.  Orignally Greek and old enough to be out of copyright:

The King shall come when morning dawns
and light triumphant breaks,
when beauty gilds the eastern hills
and life to joy awakes.

Not as of old a little child,
to bear and fight and die,
but crowned with glory like the sun
that lights the morning sky.

O brighter than the rising morn
when he, victorious, rose,
and left the lonesome place of death,
despite the rage of foes.

O brighter than the glorious morn
shall this fair morning be,
when Christ our King in beauty comes,
and we his face shall see!

The King shall come when morning dawns
and light and beauty brings;
'Hail, Christ the Lord! your people pray,
'Come quickly, King of kings!'

John Brownlie (1857-1925) from Anonymous Greek

This hymn expresses the more traditional, eschatological view of Advent -  focussing on the second coming, the great consummation, the end of time.

Of course, if we take Jesus at his word, no one can predict what time of day this will take place any more than the precise date it will occur.  I have to confess, I am minded towards seeing it as coterminus with the natural end of all things, though as a teenager had a somewhat stupid fascination with the idea of the 'rapture' and regularly asked God to delay it until I could just do x or y that I wanted to achieve first.

Perhaps what I like about the 'dawn' metaphor in this hymn, emerging from a northern hemipsphere context where dawn is a fairly leisurely process (contra equatorial regions where, I am told, it is near instantaneous) is the idea that this is no 'zap pow' arrival, but something glimpsed as darkness slowly shifts into light; something that becomes clearer and nearer and more wonderful as the light increases.

The phrase (it's strictly two words in Aramaic) "Maranatha" is both a please, "Come, Lord" and a promise "the Lord is coming".  In this hymn, I see more of the second, a hopeful yearning for the completion of a process already began.  The King will come when morning dawns... a process already begun and moving gently, imperceptibly to its fulfilment in the brightness of day.

To my surprise there are many videos of this hymn, among which is this gentle choir and orchestra version: