Ringing in a new one

The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts fresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective. Unless a man starts on the strange assumption that he has never existed before, it is quite certain that he will never exist afterwards. Unless a man be born again, he shall by no means enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.

[G.K. Chesterton]

No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference.  It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left.  It is the nativity of our common Adam.  

[Charles Lamb]

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.

[T.S. Eliot]

Songs of Christmas

So I haven't been feeling very Christmassy of late, but I'm realizing that (given it's now the 21st) if I don't get into the spirit soon, I'll be sad when it's all over and I've missed out on the anticipation and wonder that Christmas can inspire. With that in mind, here is an excerpt from a Christmas hymn, which I found in a little Book of Common Prayer picked up while in London. I think this carol encapsulates in a few words where our hearts should be at Christmastime.

Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding;

"Christ is nigh," it seems to say;

"Cast away the dreams of darkness,

O ye children of the day!"

Waken'd by the solemn warning,

Let the earth-bound soul arise;

Christ, her Sun, all ill dispelling,

Shines upon the morning skies. 

Lo! the Lamb, so long expected,
Comes with pardon down from Heav'n;
Let us haste, with tears of sorrow,
One and all to be forgiven . . .

A Christmas Carol

The Skies I'm Under

Cottonwoods on the CA 166

One of the things I love most about Mumford & Sons is their lyrics. (Forgive me if you've heard too much from me about this band already, I'm an ardent enthusiast.) Anyway, groundbreaking observation, right? But in all seriousness, as a writer I appreciate the depth of meaning within their songs. Catchy as most pop music is, the words to those won't-get-out-of-my-head melodies are often one-dimensional, if not downright inane. And, I need hardly add, 99% of those songs revolve around a cheapened understanding of love. (Not saying I don't sing along in the car, just observing.) Don't even get me started on contemporary Christian music. There are some notable exceptions, but many times the lyrics I sing in church leave me embarrassed and frustrated at the state of the arts in Christian circles.

So when I hear a song like "Hopeless Wanderer," my heart expands. It's not that I understand every line, or that I feel the rhyme scheme is perfect, or that nothing could be improved upon--I'm a critic of the worst order, I can always find fault somewhere. But the lyrics speak to me. I understand the tension that exists between love of one's roots and the allure of the wide world, the untraveled road, those far away places where--remarkably--you can find a sense of belonging. But most of all I am struck by the wisdom in the last lines: "I will learn to love the skies I'm under." Probably without meaning to, Mumford & Sons distantly echoes a statement of the Apostle Paul in I Timothy 6:6: "But godliness with contentment is great gain." That lyric makes me wince a little when I think about it, because I am still far from achieving that divine contentment which does not depend on my circumstances--yet I also recognize that without it, I will not ultimately find fulfillment in any of the other, lesser things I pursue. The very tangible picture of "loving the skies I'm under," while poetic, is also remarkably practical: I can begin by recognizing and enjoying the beauty and uniqueness of the world around me, whatever I might be.

Though I think there's more to be drawn from this song, I'll let Mumford & Sons speak for themselves now:

Hopeless Wanderer
 
You heard my voice 
I came out of the woods by choice  
Shelter also gave their shade  
And in the dark I have no name  
So leave that click in my head  
And I will remember the words that you said  
Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart  
But I was sure we could see a new start
 
So when your hope's on fire  
But you know your desire 
Don't hold a glass over the flame  
Don't let your heart grow cold  
I will call you by name  
I will share your road
 
But hold me fast, 
Hold me fast
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer  
And hold me fast, 
Hold me fast 
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer
 
I wrestled long with my youth
We tried so hard to live in the truth  
But do not tell me all is fine  
When I lose my head, I lose my spine  
So leave that click in my head  
And I won't remember the words that you said  
You brought me out from the cold  
Now, how I long, how I long to grow old
 
So when your hope's on fire  
But you know your desire  
Don't hold a glass over the flame 
Don't let your heart grow cold  
I will call you by name  
I will share your road
 
But hold me fast, 
Hold me fast 
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer  
And hold me fast, 
Hold me fast 
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer  
And I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under  
And I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under 
The skies I'm under

Veni, veni, Emmanuel

Artist and saint alike grope in awe to comprehend the incomprehensible disproportion of the glory of God and the humility of the Incarnation: the Master of the Universe, become of the earth, earthy, in order to become one with his creatures, so that we may be one with him.

~ Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith & Art, Madeleine L'Engle