It’s Christmas Eve. This Christmas carol was written in the 14th century to a medieval German folk tune. It’s in the vein of songs that teach doctrine. The video above weaves another song, In Dulci Jubilo (“In sweet rejoicing”), and the fun they have with it recommended it above other recordings.
“And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them” (Luke 2:20 ESV).
1 Good Christian men, rejoice, With heart, and soul, and voice; Give ye heed to what we say: Jesus Christ is born today; Ox and ass before him bow, And he is in the manger now. Christ is born today! Christ is born today!
2 Good Christian men, rejoice, With heart, and soul, and voice; Now ye hear of endless bliss: Jesus Christ was born for this! He hath oped the heav’nly door, And man is blessed evermore. Christ was born for this! Christ was born for this!
3 Good Christian men, rejoice, With heart, and soul, and voice; Now ye need not fear the grave: Jesus Christ was born to save! Calls you one and calls you all To gain his everlasting hall. Christ was born to save!
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
Letters:J.R.R. Tolkien wrote and illustrated letters to his boys as Father Christmas. They were originally published in 1976, the third anniversary of his death. Here’s the start of the one from 1925, copied from BritishHeritage.com.
My dear boys,
I am dreadfully busy this year — it makes my hand more shaky than ever when I think of it — and not very rich. In fact, awful things have been happening, and some of the presents have got spoilt and I haven’t got the North Polar Bear to help me and I have had to move house just before Christmas, so you can imagine what a state everything is in, and you will see why I have a new address, and why I can only write one letter between you both.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night;
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas Eve the mass was sung:
Historic Peace: Here’s a review of Tom Holland’s Pax, a history of the Roman Empire. It covers from the end of Nero to Hadrian, about 70 years. “He is the rare breed of serious historian who is fluent in the material, confident in his interpretations, and able to write with a novelistic flourish. Honestly, all 400+ pages of Pax are just so fun to read.“
Hadrian’s Wall: Speaking of Emperor Hadrian, the 200-year-old sycamore tree that stood to the side of Hadrian’s Wall between two hillocks was cut down in September by vandals, but the tree is not lost. “The National Trust confirmed that the seeds from the 200-year-old tree are expected to be able to grow new trees.” And the stump will likely grow again too.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The Lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of ‘post and pair’.
C.S. Lewis: A 1946 Christmas sermon for pagans by the author of The Abolition of Man. “When something is wrong, Lewis suggests, the post-Christian Englishperson points to the Government or the education system or to God or whatever as the problem. Rarely does a post-Christian carry around a sense that they might be at fault.”
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
‘Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale;
‘Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man’s heart through half the year.
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, Poor, simple, and of low estate! That Strife should vanish, Battle cease, O why should this thy soul elate? Sweet Music’s loudest note, the Poet’s story,— Did’st thou ne’er love to hear of Fame and Glory?
From “A Christmas Carol,” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Despite being unqualified to make such a pronouncement, I doubt Coleridge’s “A Christmas Carol” is a very good poem. The verse is clunky, and I worry that the theme boils down to something John Lennon would approve, but perhaps it’s a good theme for this year. Would we rather glory in war or in the Prince of Peace?
Coleridge wrote “A Christmas Carol” in 1799, after he had taken up Unitarianism officially, and it was set to music many years later when the English were reviving the singing of carols. The words do seem to call for a tune with four lines and a couplet in each verse.
“Joy rose within her, like a summer’s morn; Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.”
The world doesn’t understand peace; many believers don’t either. We are too worldly. We don’t follow Christ in making peace as much as possible, and we don’t understand the necessity of being prepared for war. In the poem, the shepherds come to Mary and she rejoices in their tale. Then, the poet steps in to ask her why she should rejoice in the Prince of Peace (note the verse above).
She responds, “War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, / That from the aged Father tears his Child!” Strife and Battle break the world and waste everything. “A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, / He kills the Sire and starves the Son.” Yes, yes, but this is personification. War isn’t a person; it’s a description of things people do. We fight each other for power, money, and fame. The Roman founders saw they needed women to be a successful colony, but instead of appealing to their Sabine neighbors, they fought them and took their women. Who taught them to take the path of war instead of the path of peace? No one. It would have been a natural choice for anyone.
I suspect Coleridge was like many who want peace as the absence of war, but the Prince of Peace says he gives a different peace, a peace that follows from seeking the Kingdom of Heaven first. It isn’t one we earn per se. It’s one that follows us, like goodness and mercy. The Lord may put us in a troubled time, and we may even be called to fight for the peace we want to see, but the Lord gives us a peace in knowing his kingdom has no end.
Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this. (Isaiah 9:7 ESV)
Jack Green, hero of Man In the Water, is a Pennsylvania salesman and spare-time conspiracy theorist. He married out of his league, and he and his beautiful wife Stacey have a five-year-old boy they adore. When Stacey gets some troubling medical news, her mother pays for them to take a Caribbean cruise, so they can have a carefree time together before facing whatever challenges will come.
It’s great until they’re attacked in their cabin one night, and Jack finds himself struggling for his life, only to return home alone and find his son missing. Realizing that the authorities are unwilling to do much about the case, Jack turns to a cop friend, who refers him to an FBI agent he knows. And suddenly all those conspiracies Jack has been talking about about take on new – and personal – meaning.
I suppose the first thing I should say about Man In the Water is that it was a page-turner. I kept with it to the end, in spite of elements I didn’t much care for. So the book succeeded in that respect.
But even as I read, I was nitpicking. The writing was pretty slapdash. Words are used imprecisely, as for instance, “qualms” where “doubts” is wanted. This is one of those stories where an ordinary guy gets thrown in among professional killers, which always raises the problem of how to get him out alive without overdoing the luck factor. In my opinion, the luck factor did get overdone here. And the action itself seemed cinematic and implausible.
Even worse, the book ends with a cliffhanger, its central plot problem unresolved. I don’t like that. Ongoing secondary plot threads are fine in a series, but you need to resolve this book’s main plot problem in this book. So that annoyed me.
I think this series is working on having a Christian theme. Jack is an agnostic, and he often spends time thinking about the God question. I would expect him to possibly come to faith further down the line.
But I won’t be reading down the line. Man In the Water wasn’t awful, and I did finish it. But I didn’t like it enough to spring for the sequel.
British host Michael Parkinson interviews American actor Jimmy Stewart (and later Stewart’s wife, Gloria)
In the 1973 interview above with British TV presenter Michael Parkinson (1935-2023), actor Jimmy Stewart shares a number of interesting trivia from his life and career. They embarrass him in the beginning by sharing a clip from a romantic musical he did, and then at 9:25 shift to It’s a Wonderful Life. Stewart says the film didn’t do well at the box office, but it’s both his and director Frank Capra’s favorite movie.
He goes on to say he has a theory that “creating moments in movies” is most important. “Nobody knows exactly how it happens. What you should do is prepare yourself as best you can to make these moments happen.” Movies are less about the overall performance and more about moments like George Bailey’s desperation in the bar, crying out to God to show him the way.
I found this interview via Anthony Sacramone, who is very smart and a film buff. He added to Stewart’s comments with moments of his own.
Think about Bogart at the bar. Or the look on Hackman’s face as he sees the woman pushing the baby carriage in the middle of the street under the El. Or the “Ba-da-bing!” scene in The Godfather (or the expression on Michael’s face just before he shoots McCluskey and Sollozzo and changes the trajectory of his life forever). Think about that shot of John Wayne through the doorway as he turns and walks off into the distance in The Searchers. James Dean crying, “You’re tearing me ap-a-a-art!” in Rebel without a Cause. Rocky screaming for Adrian at the big fight’s end.
I’ve read and reviewed one of George Bellairs’ Inspector Littlejohn novels before. I found the book likeable but not outstanding. That’s pretty much my reaction to The Cursing Stones Murder too.
Inspector Littlejohn and his wife are planning a “holiday,” (as they say in England), but a plea from a friend persuades them to change their itinerary. Archdeacon Kinrade, a clergyman in a town on the Isle of Man, is concerned about one of his young parishioners, who has been arrested on suspicion of murder. A local womanizer’s body has been dredged up by scallop fishermen, and circumstantial evidence points to the young man. But Kinrade is certain he’s innocent. Littlejohn feels obligated to the archdeacon for past favors, and Man is a pleasant place to visit, so they change their plans.
Littlejohn has no actual authority on Man, but the local police detective seems happy to have his unofficial help. The young accused man is soon released, but the case proves to be the kind where there are too many people with motives. On top of that, people who know secrets are deliberately trying to mislead the police, in order to protect others.
The Cursing Stones Murder is a decent mystery, but written for an audience now dead (around 1950). It’s more of a cozy than a police procedural, and suffers (I would suggest) from containing too many nice characters. I like a book that keeps the violence low, but in this case I was sometimes in danger of losing interest altogether – until the end, when stuff started happening, leading to one of those classic cozy endings where the decent people who’ve made mistakes are allowed to die rather than face the law.
Inspector Littlejohn himself is not a very vivid character, and characterization isn’t author Bellairs’ forte. Mrs. Littlejohn seems to have almost no personality at all – she is endlessly supportive and never complains about the continual changes her husband makes in their plans. She’s almost the perfect pre-feminist wife, but I’m not sure such women actually ever existed.
The writing is good, and the Manx landscapes well exploited. If you’re looking for a quiet mystery without a lot of bad language or violence, The Cursing Stones Murder may be what you’re looking for.
Tonight, like last night, I’m recycling old material. DON’T JUDGE ME! I’m coming down with a cold.
No, wait. Nowadays what we say is, “I’m coming down with a cold,I hope.”
Feels like a cold, anyway. First time I’ve gotten sick in quite a while. I think I got through the whole pandemic thing without a day in bed.
Anyway, I know I’ve posted this before – sometime. But this is Sissel Kyrkjebø just as she was becoming a celebrity in Norway. About the time she released her Christmas album, also called “Glade Jul,” (the Norwegian version of “Silent Night”). Pretty much everybody in the country bought a copy. Plus at least one lovestruck American guy living in Florida at the time.
I’ve been writing for this blog so long that I think I can probably reanimate some of my old post topics. A search of our archives shows that it was in 2010 that I last wrote about the Christmas hymn, “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.” I’m not going to denounce it. In fact, I kind of love it. But it’s not really a Christmas hymn. It’s more of a Christmas song, like “The Christmas Song” (the Chestnuts one, you know) or “Silver Bells.” Because it’s not about Jesus, and was never intended to be.
The putative hymn was written by Edmund H. Sears, a sensitive-minded Unitarian minister who worked in Toledo for a while, before suffering a breakdown (perfectly understandable, under the circumstances). In time he ended up serving a church in Wayland, Massachusetts. He wrote “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” in 1849, and it was published with a tune by Richard Storrs Willis in 1850. His motivation seems to have been his depression over the Mexican War, which raised considerable opposition in the country (Lincoln famously voted against the war, and lost his seat in Congress because of it).
The hymn goes:
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold;
"Peace on the earth, good will to men
From heaven's all-gracious King" –
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
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.
But with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring; –
Oh hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing!
And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing; –
Oh, rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing!
For lo! the days are hastening on
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever circling years
Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
Do you notice something missing in this so-called “Christmas Hymn?” It says nothing about Jesus. Not a word. You’ve got angels and peace, which hearken back to Luke’s account of the Nativity (verses 8-14):
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
So you’ve got the angels and you’ve got the peace, demonstrating that the poet had Christ’s birth in mind. So why didn’t he mention Christ Himself?
Because he was a Universalist. He didn’t really think Jesus was that important. He believed Jesus simply represented a universal principle of peace and love, which gives us hope for a coming time (“the age of gold”) when Mankind will have evolved to the point of outgrowing war.
In many more orthodox hymnbooks, the words have been altered a little. The changed lyrics substitute “the time foretold” for “the age of gold.” And they say “the new Heaven and earth shall own the Prince of Peace their King,” instead of “when Peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling.” I don’t generally care for meddling with original texts, but I like those changes just fine.
Still, the hymn still leaves me a little melancholy.
Beautiful, though.
I looked for a good video of the hymn/song to embed above. But everybody had to get cute with it one way or another (worst are the English, who use the wrong tune!). So I had to settle (yet again) for the Heretic Tabernacle Choir. Which is kind of appropriate, I guess.
A few years ago, a guy writes a sequel to The Lord of the Rings, which he hopes will be a collaboration with The Tolkien Estate. He solicits their support, gets nothing, so publishes his novel independently. He conceives it as the first of six books in The War of the Rings series.
Then, Amazon releases its Rings of Power series, and this guy, this fan-fiction author, sees it as a copyright violation of his work. He sues Amazon and The Tolkien Estate, claiming his work is “wholly original book and concept.” This is a work that begins with Sam and Rosie’s daugther, “Elanor Gamgee Gardner.”
That lawsuit is dismissed with a judgment that the fan-fic infringes on Amazon’s copyright. At this point, The Tolkien Estate sues the author, and this week, the judge on that case rules the original “lawsuit as ‘frivolous and unreasonably filed,’ and award[s] legal fees to the Tolkien Estate and Amazon in the sum of $134,000.” The fan-fic is to be totally and completely destroyed in print and in digital.
The year’s almost over, so I think I can safely say that, in all likelihood, M. A. Rothman’s The Inside Man boasts the weirdest scenario I’ve come across in a novel all year. It’s effectively written and entertaining, but bizarre.
Levi Yoder, our hero, is a young man who was originally Amish. Somehow (I guess it’s explained in the first novel in the series – this is the second) he got involved with the New York Mafia, which became a second family to him. He was even declared a “made man,” an “honor” usually restricted to Italians. Then he got cancer, but had an unexplained remission. After that, he grew stronger, faster, and was endowed with certain extra talents, like eidetic memory. He continues to work with the Mafia, but he’s allowed to do only jobs he wants to do. He has a sideline in rescuing young girls from human traffickers.
A request comes to his bosses from the Japanese Yakuza. One of their leaders has an American granddaughter, a little girl. She has been kidnapped. The grandfather has heard of Levi’s skills, and will be very generous if he can find and rescue the girl. Levi is happy to take on the job.
But then there’s an interruption. Levi is arrested and interrogated by the FBI. He’s rescued by a shadowy figure who says he works for an independent, non-government agency that fights human trafficking by any means necessary. They’ll help Levi if he’ll help them.
He also meets – and cooperates with – a Chinese double agent, a beautiful woman with a penchant for nudity and a phobia about being touched.
I think this is what’s known as a “high concept” story. It takes place in the real world, but has over-the-top elements. The plot rolls right along, dispensing lots of action and suspense, but for this reader it had a kind of a Hollywood, CGI feel. I should probably have approached it more as fantasy than as an ordinary mystery/thriller.
I also have to admit I have trouble with the depiction of Mafiosi as decent, honorable fellas. I believe that tradition is long past, and was grossly exaggerated even in the old days.
You may like the book, though. It certainly was entertaining. The Inside Man earns full marks as a page-turner.
