"Still through the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurled
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing."
Christmas Eve never fails to bring out the wisdom captured in a carol. Seems my go-to song for years has been my favorite musically, too: It Came Upon The Midnight Clear.
I've re-read Edmund Sears' lyrics every season with something new grabbing my mind. This year, I wonder just how long the world has been 'weary'? O, Holy Night speaks of the same ("The weary world rejoices.") Why are those Merry Gentlemen commanded to "rest" and not "dismay"?
Some might think we've experienced the ultimate in weariness with this continuing state of pandemic, which has brought new meaning to the "sad and lowly plains." The range of sadness runs anywhere from literal death to the loss or temporary suspension of freedoms once enjoyed without second-guessing. 'Lowly' as we look to a situation that is commonplace and humbling throughout the whole world.
There's more to our lowliness, though. We have seen in this time, if not a significant shift in people's values, a crystalized defining of people's values -- and we have been shaken by these shifts. Our weary state has left us struggling to adapt to change -- as if we are seeing people and situations for the first time. We read the headlines and hear the stories -- some very close to us -- and we ponder: What are you thinking? Where are we going? Why don't you seem to care anymore? Why is that what's most important? What's happened to you??
There's a passage in Genesis 11 in which the people of the day built a city with a tower of great height, to "make a name for ourselves." (vs. 4) What God saw was concerning. Rather than destroy the tower and the city, though, he left the things but "confused" the language. Those "Babel sounds" have an echo.
Have you felt the language of this weary world become confusing? Polarizing? People seemingly scattered into further and further diverse "plains." At a time when the world needs more compassion and genuine love, bricks are still made to preserve the towers of what we have left of ourselves.
On Christmas Eve, angels were sent to announce the birth of a savior and the promise of peace. Angels, who came bending, leaning into the weariness, "on hovering wing." Were they hovering to maintain their space above the shepherds? Maybe. As another definition suggests, perhaps they were trying to maintain a position between two places -- knowing their home was above the cloven skies, though their desire to reinforce the message of hope on Earth was intense.
"Still....""Still...."
Though the world be weary, sad and lowly; though we are confused, perplexed and still seeking peace; though we long for community, love and togetherness in a world that is increasingly scattered and in its own pattern of hovering --
Yet "ever o'er its Babel sounds, the blessed angels sing."
Merry Christmas, friends!....
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