A Communion Hymn for Advent

Advent is a season of great hope and great music. The tune below is a childhood favorite written by the English Congregationalist, George Rawson, that was often sung as a communion hymn.

By Christ redeemed, in Christ restored,

We keep the memory adored,

And shew the death of our dear Lord

Until He come.

His body given in our stead

Is made known in the broken bread,

By which our feeble love is fed

Until he come.

His fearful, untold agony,

His lifeblood shed for you and me,

The wine shall tell the mystery

Until he come.

And thus His dark betrayal night

We with His last advent we unite

By one bright chain of loving rite

Until He come.

Until the trump of God be heard.

Until the ancient graves be stirred,

And with the great commanding word,

The Lord shall come.

Oh! blessed hope! With this elate

Let not our hearts be desolate,

But, strong in faith and patience, wait

Until He come ! Amen.

Let the Clouds Rain forth the Just One

Rorate caeli, the great anthem of the Advent season speaks of the hope of redemption and the desire for the coming of the Savior.  Rather than speaking only of a state of mind, it conjures images longing as being the desert, falling leaves, and the wind and the coming redemption of the daughter of Zion as the rock and the lamb, ending with the reassurance " I will save thee; fear not: for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Redeemer."

The Advent season, which opens on Sunday, unites the coming of the child in the incarnation with the second coming of a king with power, one who is both lamb and cornerstone.  It calls us back to the moment when the word was made flesh and forward to the end of time.  As in Lent, we assess where we have been, but, perhaps especially, the seasonal texts call us to look at where we are going.

Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the Just One.

Be not angry, O Lord, and remember no longer our iniquity : behold the city of thy sanctuary is become a desert, Sion is made a desert. Jerusalem is desolate, the house of our holiness and of thy glory, where our fathers praised thee.

Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the Just One.

We have sinned, and we are become as one unclean, and we have all fallen as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast crushed us by the hand of our iniquity.

Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the Just One.

See, O Lord, the affliction of thy people, and send him whom thou hast promised to send. Send forth the Lamb, the ruler of the earth, from the rock of the desert to the mount of the daughter of Sion, that he himself may take off the yoke of our captivity.

Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the Just One.

Be comforted, be comforted, my people; thy salvation shall speedily come. Why wilt thou waste away in sadness? why hath sorrow seized thee? I will save thee; fear not: for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Redeemer.

Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the Just One.

So You're Worried about the War on Christmas...

If all four candles aren't lit on the advent wreath, it's not Christmas

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I wrote this piece a few years ago.  As the rhetoric of the “War on Christmas” heats up again for the season this year, it seemed worth dusting off and updating a bit as we move toward the beginning of the season of Advent on December 2.

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I’ve never liked the whole War-on-Christmas hysteria. I’m afraid history shows us that Christmas was always a time of popular revelry, as this time of year had been well before there was a Christmas. Somehow, I’m betting that few of the folks out there who are thumping their chests about the War on Christmas spend the weeks of Advent preparing for the big day in fasting, almsgiving, and penitence. (And, if you do, bully for you.)

If you like your holidays pure, I suggest you make the most of Epiphany, the Twelfth Day of Christmas on January 6.  It’s an uncontested day for the miracle of the Incarnation.  Go to church, throw a Twelfth Night party, and feel as pious as you want.

In the meantime, if you’re worried about the War on Christmas, does your own Christmas tree stay up until at least Epiphany? If you throw your tree out on New Year’s Day or any time before the Epiphany, you are cutting the season short and supporting the War on Christmas.  If you are truly concerned about the loss of the season, you might leave it up until Candlemas on February 2, but do keep the fire extinguisher handy.

I suppose I need not say that if your tree was up and decorated while it was still Advent, you are part of the War on Christmas.  Christmas starts on the evening of December 24.  No cheating!

You know it’s time to decorate the tree when you’ve opened the last door on your Advent Calendar. No Advent Calendar you say? Then you are supporting the War on Christmas.

How do you greet people after December 25? If you’re not still saying, “Merry Christmas!” for all 12 days, you are part of the War on Christmas.  Yes, people will look at you like you’re crazy, but it’s not easy being a real Christmas warrior, so have the courage of your convictions.

Is the Baby Jesus already in his crib in your nativity set? If you said yes, get some toothpicks and Saran Wrap to make a little incubator because you’ve got a preemie on your hands—he’s not here yet and you are promoting the War on Christmas.

Finally, you might be saying, "I'm a Protestant, we don't do this Advent and Epiphany business."  Well, truth is, you're not supposed to be keeping Christmas either.  Back in the 1600s when the Puritans were serious about running one nation under God in Boston, Christmas was banned as a pagan holiday and a superstitious, Catholic custom with no Biblical basis.  To use the old language for it down here in the South, having a Christmas tree may be a sign that you're backsliding and you probably need to be repenting of your worldliness and idolatry. (You can read more about that here.  Hat tip to a more mellow Bostonian.)

In short, if you’re worried about the War on Christmas, instead of signing petitions and filling comboxes with righteous indignation, keep the four weeks of Advent and all Twelve Days of Christmas with the customs and devotions that go with them.  If you’re not interested in any of that, but you still want to complain about the War on Christmas, you might really just be a cheapskate or a Grinch.