Category Archives: music

The whiteness of the moon at even.

The first full moon in November is traditionally called the Beaver Moon in North America, and marks the season when we might be busy as beavers getting everything shored up against winter.

Lately I’ve been refreshing my memory of the hymn that I memorized soon after my husband’s passing, a version of St. Patrick’s Breastplate from Charles Villiers Stanford. He used two old Irish tunes to compose a majestic setting for Cecil Frances Alexander’s poetry. The YouTube version I learned from is still up: “St. Patrick’s Breastplate.”

On the occasion of the full moon I am sharing only the portion of the hymn that draws our spiritual eyes to the natural world.

I bind unto myself today
the virtues of the starlit heaven,
the glorious sun’s life-giving ray,
the whiteness of the moon at even;

the flashing of the lightning free,
the whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
the stable earth, the deep salt sea,
among the old eternal rocks.

Another version of this ancient hymn is “The Deer’s Cry,” and my favorite rendition of that one is sung by Lisa Kelly here: “The Deer’s Cry.”

What could I add to this prayer? The blessing is in the singing of it.

Darial Gorge, Moon Night by Ivan Aivazovsky, 1868

Christmas in the Trenches

Maria Horvath (blog now inactive) posted this song, scripture and video together many years ago:

We begin this month’s look at the different forms of love with one of the most thought-provoking statements ever made about love.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Christ tells his followers, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and send rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you salute only your brethren, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” ~ Matthew 5:43-48

The lyrics below tell the true story of a truce between British and German soldiers on the Western Front in 1914. It is told from the perspective of a fictional British soldier.

CHRISTMAS IN THE TRENCHES

Oh, my name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool,
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
From Belgium and to Flanders, Germany to here,
I have fought for King and country I love dear.

’Twas Christmas in the trenches and the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France where still no songs of peace were sung.
Our families back in England were toasting us that day
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with me mess mates on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound.
Says I, Now listen up me boys, each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.

He’s singing bloody well, you know, my partner says to me.
Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony.
The cannons rested silent and the gas cloud rolled no more,
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent,
“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” struck up some lads from Kent.
The next they sang was “Stille Nacht.” ’Tis “Silent Night,” says I,
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.

There’s someone coming towards us now, the front line sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side.
His truce flag like a Christmas Star shone on the plain so bright
As he bravely trudged unarmed into the night.

Then one by one on either side walked in to No Man’s Land
But neither gun nor bayonet, we met there hand to hand.
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well,
And in a flare-lit football game we gave ’em hell.

We traded chocolates and cigarettes and photographs from home,
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own.
Tom Sanders played the squeeze box and they had a violin,
This curious and unlikely band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more.
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war.
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night,
Whose family have I fixed within my sights?

’Twas Christmas in the trenches and the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were warmed, the songs of peace were sung.
For the walls they’d kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone forever more.

Oh, my name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lessons well,
For the one who calls the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle we’re the same.

~ John McCutcheon, born 1952, American singer, musician, and composer

The Angel Gabriel from Heaven Came…

…His wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame…

The first lines of the carol “Gabriel’s Message” take my imagination straight up to Heaven, and down again to the encounter the Virgin Mary had with the Angel Gabriel. This song of the Annunciation I heard for the first time a couple of years ago. Nowadays, if I so much as think about it once in the morning, or often even without consciously bringing it to mind, it plays in my head all day, beautifully, joyously.

In looking for a YouTube video of it to share here, I found that I don’t like the ones in which boys’ choirs are singing sweetly bird-like. It seems a strong man’s voice should speak the message of the first two stanzas, which come from Gabriel.

This version is my all around favorite, in which a choir sings in lower registers.

This man singing solo is my favorite manly rendition. I like the way he sings it straight, and the only way I’d improve on it is to not have to look at him as the performer.

I was interested to see that there aren’t many icons or paintings of Gabriel in which his wings look anything like drifted snow. In fact, the image of drifted snow doesn’t evoke the idea of the strength that would be necessary for the swift messenger of God we know an angel to be. In many paintings Gabriel’s wings look very powerful, and poised to be in flight in an instant, at the next word from God. But the phrase does make me think of purity, and certainly the scene of fresh snow is somewhat other-worldly.

Angels do not have any inherent form; they are spiritual beings who only take on human-like form in order to be seen by those who are given the spiritual eyes to see. We don’t have a record of how the Archangel Gabriel appeared to the eyes of the Virgin, but we do know his message:

GABRIEL’S MESSAGE

1 The angel Gabriel from heaven came,
his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame;
“All hail,” said he to meek and lowly Mary,
“most highly favored maiden.” Gloria!

2 “I come from heav’n to tell the Lord’s decree:
a blessed virgin mother you shall be.
Your Son shall be Immanuel, by seers foretold,
most highly favored maiden.” Gloria!

3 Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head;
“To me be as it pleases God,” she said.
“My soul shall laud and magnify his holy name.”
Most highly favored maiden, Gloria!

4 Of her, Immanuel, the Christ, was born
In Bethlehem, all on a Christmas morn,
and Christian folk throughout the world will ever say,
“Most highly favored maiden.” Gloria!

Annibale Carracci, 1600