A Pastor Appreciates the Hymns: Songs of Christmas, Part 1

By Joe LaGuardia

A Pastor Appreciates the Hymns is a series on hymnody and worship in the church.  By incorporating personal testimony and theological reflection, the series draws meaning and strength from sacred songs past and present.

And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus.  He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High (Luke 1:31-32a).”

In Advent we long for our Savior to come to us, to be born anew and challenge us during this season of hope.  But who is this Savior, precisely, and what is the shape and nature of this Savior’s character and integrity?

I am often surprised at how many Christmas carols explore the various names that apply to the Messiah of Israel, the Savior of our heart.  Take O Come, O Come Emmanuel, for instance, which calls Jesus by the name given by the prophet Isaiah, “Emmanuel” which means “God with us.”

Depending on the version of the song, it provides a litany of other names for Jesus too: Dayspring, Wisdom, Lord of Might, Rod of Jesse, Key of David, and Desire of Nations.  There is something in each title that reveals Jesus’ character and purpose.

The hymn, penned as a medieval liturgy in the 12th-century, is one of many antiphons that are sung at the beginning of a psalm reading or following the reading of the Magnificat.  Antiphons are known for drawing attention to the titles of Christ and inspiring deeper reflection on who He is as both personal Savior and cosmic Redeemer.

The names for Christ that we sing about in O Come, O Come Emmanuel echo prophecy from Old Testament scripture and affirm that Jesus is the long-awaited messiah, the one whom God sent to “ransom captive Israel.”

According to Magrey DeVega in Songs for the Waiting, the hymn does more than merely name Jesus, it challenges us to name our experience of Jesus.  Who is Jesus to us?  What is the nature of our captivity, and how does Jesus, deeply rooted in all of scripture (and is, according to John 1, the very “Word of God”), bring release and liberation to us?

Another carol that focuses on the names of Christ is Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming.  Like O Come, O Come Emmanuel, the song affirms that Jesus is David’s offspring, the “root of Jesse” (Isaiah 11:1), and the fulfillment of God’s promise to secure David’s throne forever (2 Samuel 7).  This messiah is a king, but also God’s gift to us: a “rose” that saves us and “lightens every load.”

Jesus is the “rose”, specifically the “rose of Sharon” spoken about in Song of Solomon 2:1.  Although Song of Solomon is a love letter between two partners, Christians have incorporated the poetry as a way to experience Christ’s intimacy with them.

Jesus as a “rose” is our beloved, and the fragrance of his life–his birth, mighty works, ministry, death and resurrection–fills all creation with the sweet aroma of God’s redemption.  As lovers give roses to each other on special occasions, Jesus is God’s rose to us–a symbol of the covenant that God made with us, and “new covenant” that includes the rosy-red blood that Jesus shed on the cross for our sins.

Names mean something: they tell us of a person’s character; they ground us in stability during hardship and tragedy; they name our experience and posit hope in an uncertain world.  The carols and hymns that name Jesus are, for us, a way to remind us who it is that visits us every Christmas.  As the prophet Isaiah puts it:

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us;
Authority rests on his shoulders; and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace…
For the throne of David and his kingdom; he will establish and uphold it forever” (9:6,7).

During this Advent and Christmas season, as you sing of the hope and longing we have in God, who is this Jesus to you, and by what name do you call him?

 

 

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The Truth of Epiphany and the Human Christ

394By Joe LaGuardia

Some of our Christmas carols make bold claims about Christ.  Some remind us of Jesus’ miraculous birth, while others recall the revelation of God’s Messiah to angels and sages.  Perhaps the greatest claim is made in the classic hymn, Away in a Manger, which states that when it came to baby Jesus, “No crying he made.”

Now that is a miracle.  I can only imagine  what it might be like to have a baby that never cries, whines, wets the bed, and learns the word “No.”

This baby is miraculous indeed.  He probably also knew intuitively how to share his toys, avoid back-talking his parents, and eat his vegetables. No wonder most of the artwork depicting the Christ child throughout history shows him as a miniature man in saintly repose.

Was Jesus really like that?  Did Jesus rest in a manger that heavenly and grow up without any need for training, correction, or parental guidance?

We know that Jesus had growin’ up days like the rest of us, a fact we recognize during the season of Epiphany.  Twice in Luke 2 (vs. 40 and 52), scripture tells us that Jesus “grew in wisdom and in stature.”  What about the rest of Jesus’ maturation and growth?

As far as one blogger is concerned, Jesus did do all the things that babies and infants do, including cry.  But Jesus “never cried in a sinful way.”  That’s a stretch, and when I think back to when my children were infants, I don’t recall them crying in a sinful way either.  Babies cry; that’s how they communicate.

Our thoughts about baby Jesus, no matter how far-fetched they are, reveal something about our theology of Christ, which I would guess is not as developed as it should be.

Let me remind you, dear reader, that the orthodox view of Jesus’ personhood is that he is fully God and fully human.  Jesus was 100% of both.  He is, of course, without sin although even that theological premise rests on a single thread of scripture from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians (5:21).

The argument surrounding Jesus’ divinity and humanity was settled long ago in the fourth century.  At that time, priests, bishops, and other church leaders debated Jesus’ Christology and the incarnation.

One priest, Arius of the Church of Bancalis in Egypt, claimed that Jesus was fully human and therefore not the same “substance” (as a bishop, Alexander of Alexandria, claimed) as God.  This became known as the Arian Controversy.

Bishops across the empire settled the disagreement in the famous Council of Nicaea in 326 CE, when nearly 300 bishops argued that Jesus was both divine and human, not just like God, but God in the flesh.

The second verse of the classic Christmas hymn, O Come, All Ye Faithful, recites some of the theological statements that came out of the Council:

“True God of true God, Light from Light Eternal . . . Son of the Father, begotten, not created.”

In my own experience, I find it important to highlight both aspects of Jesus’ personhood.  He was fully divine, and Jesus, who was “one with the Father” (John 10:30) embodied God’s reign and bridged the gap between heaven and earth.  God chose to live among us in a particular place and time, a great admission of the value that God places on us humans.

Yet, Jesus is fully human and, therefore, did what most babies and children do.  At the same time, Jesus also suffered, felt the pain of grief, and faced hardship.  This is good news: When I face the same, Jesus–and, in turn, God–knows exactly how I feel.  In Jesus Christ, God has become an intimate sojourner with humanity.

I don’t think any of us like to think of Jesus as a baby who spit up, made messes, and threw his food to see if it stuck to the wall; but, he likely did.  It’s Jesus’ very humanity, however, that makes the Gospel for what it is.  If Jesus showed us the way, then we can follow in faith, hope, and love with the same confidence.