O Come … !!
“The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people.”
December grows colder. The season of Advent draws to a close. The world descends into a deeper darkness. But it is not at this moment that all is lost, and that we dissolve into despair. It is at this moment our salvation appears.
We are a people yearning. We feel our fragility and our finitude. We feel our vulnerability against the cold and against the dark, against all the bleakness and the brokenness of this world. We yearn, and we cry out … “O Come!” But the darkness grows darker still, and the cold, uncaring universe seems unmoved by our plea.
But then, suddenly, he appears. The promised one. The Incarnate. This upside-down God. And suddenly, our yearning is met with Joy. And our cry “O Come” is turned around: we cry, “O Come,” not to God for his salvation and deliverance — he has come! We cry “O Come” to all people, to those who dwell in darkness, and in the shadow of death: we cry, “O Come,” and see this thing that has come to pass within our midst.
The Salvation of God. Our Redemption.
It’s not what we expected. He didn’t come with angelic armies to defeat our enemies, burn away all our mistakes, fix all our problems. But it is precisely what we needed. He came to be with us, to meet us where we are in the midst of this darkness and brokenness. He came, our Immanuel, who bears our burdens with us, who takes up residence among us, who sits with us at table, blesses and breaks the bread, transforming our daily food into supersubstantial sustenance. O Come!!
O Come. We imagine here the experience of Christmas from one who is near at hand, and yet, completely outside to the action. The pure, supernal, interrupting Light has broken forth at midnight, and it floods into the room — still empty, still shadow-cornered. What is this strange thing that has come to pass? What light has dawned on humankind?
The light does not coerce. It does not compel. It does not demand overmuch; and indeed, its shadows foreshadow. But it is present, and it kindly invites. O Come …
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.
—The Prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 9:2)
The Nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ
Texts for this Week
Prayer
Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born [this day] of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever.
O Come …
The experimental, ecumenical worship project The Porter’s Gate last year released an lovely album of Advent Songs. From said album, O Come is especially poignant. As we celebrate these waning days of Advent, looking forward to the dawning of that great and eternal morning, we experience — as Paul Zach, Jessica Fox and IAMSON dramatize — a deep yearning that grows more and more urgent, until we hear those words, “Unto us a Son is given.”
The words of the verses are punctuated with those two simple words, repeated again and again. “O Come. O Come.” Here are the lyrics of the three verses:
For those who walk in darkness the sun is rising, rising, rising; the shadow dies, our anguish flies from dawn on high. Oh Lord Jesus, come…
The yoke upon our shoulders is finally breaking, breaking, breaking. Our burdens gone, in that bright dawn when He has come. Oh Lord Jesus, come…
A Son to us is given and we are waiting, waiting, waiting. Immanuel, oh wonderful, your peace to tell. Oh Lord Jesus, come…
Do not open till Xmas! — Bonus Christmas Music
O Magnum Mysterium
The King’s College Choir sings Morten Lauridsen arrangement of the old Christmas Matins responsory, O Magnum Mysterium, in something akin to its natural liturgical habitat — as the processional introit for a solemn office of Christmas. The text, translated, reads:
O great mystery, and wonderful sacrament, that animals should see the newborn Lord, lying in a manger!
Blessed is the virgin whose womb was worthy to bear the Lord, Jesus Christ. Alleluia!
The text is of its own delicious and contemplative; even in Gregorian plainsong, its radiant depth can hardly be concealed. Many arrangements of the text exist in the Renaissance repertoire, among them Victoria (16th C Spain) and his earlier contemporary, de Morales, Byrd (17th C England), Clemens non Papa (16th C Dutch). Among more recent arrangements, the Basque composer Javier Busto has painted the text with a sort of glossolalia effect; Ola Gjeilo offers a rich and melancholic interpretation with choir that almost sounds Lord of the Rings-ish, and the Norwegian composer Marcus Paus for choir with marimba.
Despite this proliferation of arrangements, however, Lauridsen remains the choral standard, a major part of the repertoire for Christmas concerts, and probably the inspiration for many of the subsequent arrangements (his being published in ‘94). Laurisden’s arrangement positively shimmers: adding to the text a profound combination of warmth and depth and spaciousness. In an article containing his own reflections on the piece, Lauridsen shares how he was inspired by a 1633 painting by Francisco de Zurbarán, “Still Life with Lemons, Oranges, and a Rose.”
For "O Magnum Mysterium," I wanted to create, as Zurbarán had in paint, a deeply felt religious statement, at once uncomplicated and unadorned yet powerful and transformative in its effect upon the listener.
It is important to pause and note what Zurbarán is doing in the Baroque symbolism of his still life: an artist known mostly for his paintings of ascetics, angels, saints and the life of Christ, this canvas is a symbolic of the Virgin Mary. The table is a sort of altar. The rose and cup of water symbolize her purity and love. The lemons and oranges, interspersed with blossoms, are a symbol of the renewal of life; of abundance and fecundity. The detailed and luminous objects upon it are set off in sharp contrast to the blurry and shadowy surroundings.
Lauridsen continues,
I also wanted to convey a sense of the text's long history and theological importance by referencing the constant purity of sacred music found in High Renaissance polyphony, especially in works by Josquin des Prez and Palestrina. The harmonic palette I chose, therefore, is simpler and direct; the complex chords abounding in my "Madrigali" and "Canciones" are nowhere to be found here. Further, both the musical themes and phrase shapes in "O Magnum Mysterium" have their roots in Gregorian chant, with a constant metric flow and ebb.
The piece seems to float, to hover in the air, due to a predominant use of inverted chords, recalling the Renaissance practice of fauxbourdon. Inclusion of the "Alleluia" descant over sustained pedal tones references yet another characteristic of the era, and dynamics throughout are subdued, contributing to the aura of meditation and prayer.
The most challenging part of this piece for me was the second line of text having to do with the Virgin Mary. She above all was chosen to bear the Christ child and then she endured the horror and sorrow of his death on the cross. How can her significance and suffering be portrayed musically?
After exploring several paths, I decided to depict this by a single note. On the word "Virgo," the altos sing a dissonant appoggiatura G-sharp. It's the only tone in the entire work that is foreign to the main key of D. That note stands out against a consonant backdrop as if a sonic light has suddenly been focused upon it, edifying its meaning. It is the most important note in the piece.
Hodie, Christus Natus Est — Today Christ is Born
In the old Gregorian ordo, the Hodie serves as the antiphon of the Magnificat on the Vespers of Christmas Day:
Today is Christ born
today the Savior has appeared;
today the Angels sing,
the Archangels rejoice;
today the righteous rejoice, saying:
Glory to God in the highest. Alleluia!
The repetition of hodie stresses the immediacy of the feast: the distance between here and now and that manger in Bethlehem is collapsed by the festal anamnesis: TODAY Christ is born: TODAY the Savior has appeared, etc.
The rich, original Gregorian melody is haunting in its simplicity and famous in its own “rite,” but featured here is a video of the especially moving is a polyphonic arrangement from the Dutch Renaissance composer, Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck. (The performing group — interestingly — is not an ensemble, but a quintet of YouTube singers, who formed an ad hoc virtual choir before it was cool.)
