The Oldest Christmas Carol

Have you clopped along the cobbled streets of Rothenburg ob der Tauber, one of Germany's oldest and best-preserved medieval towns, where it feels like Christmas all year? This time-capsule of days gone by, tracing back to the 10th century, was once home to a handsome nutcracker that I took back to the States with me in August of 1989. Yes, that was a long time ago. The Berlin Wall was just a couple of months away from coming down. For those of us who heard President Ronald Reagan say some of history's most famous words, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" those were thrilling times. The taste of freedom rippled around the world, despite its tragic suppression several months earlier in Tiananmen Square, where student-led protests against Chinese dictatorship resulted in horrifically brutal military massacre. What does any of this have to do with Christmas?

If you have scanned the lyrics of classic Christmas carols recently or paid attention to them on your favorite Christmas CDs, you are aware that the message of Christmas--the real message, that is--is inextricably linked with deliverance from oppression. In fact, if you really want to stir things up politically, go back to square one of why Jesus came. Oh, He came to save us from our sins, or to make our lives bearable, people will say with a vague sense of conviction. But the real Jesus is likely to be lost these days in a muddle of sentiment and materialism--that's if He is even remembered at all. But the Christmas carols tell very clearly why Jesus came. Suppose someone asked you if you could name the oldest one. What would you say? This thought came to my mind this past week, not because I was thinking about Christmas, but because I stumbled onto this subject after writing last week's blogpost.

I had a hunch what the answer might be, but I also wondered if the oldest Christmas carol is actually in the Bible. Before exploring the answer, let's do a little review of some of the greatest Christmas carols. I often wonder if these wonderful songs, like the hymns that accompany them in those seldom-opened hymnals still sitting patiently in some churches' pew racks, will be lost entirely to future generations. Let's start with some of the classics dating back to the 1600s. "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night," "O Come, All Ye Faithful," "God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen," and Handel's Messiah echo days of Renaissance and Enlightenment passion for the celebration of Christmas. But these songs, as old as they seem to us now, as if permanently embedded in the collective consciousness, were by no means the oldest Christmas songs. Even earlier than these were songs like "Ding Dong Merrily on High," from the 1500s, and "Good King Wenceslas," dating back to the 1200s.

Songs like this awaken our imaginations of medieval castles, outlandish costumes, and lavish feasts.

Songs like this, as traditional as they may seem, may capture the Christmas spirit, but they do not necessarily capture the true meaning of why Jesus came.

If we fast forward to the Victorian era, we find a burst of the carols we think of most today when we picture a vintage Christmas. Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, complete with Scrooge, looms over our associations with cobblestoned streets, carolers, lamplights, and Christmas cheer. But this era found a deeper connection to the true meaning of Christmas than did some of the medieval folk artists. We can name one after another of these great songs and find in all of them correct theology and sound doctrine. "Joy to the World," " Silent Night," "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," "O Little Town of Bethlehem," "We Three Kings," "Away in a Manger," and even "Jingle Bells" have survived virtually untouched to this day, even though the story of the typical Christmas carol involves many revisions and evolutions. These songs hint at justice and righteousness, but even more vividly do we hear the message of "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1863, or "O Holy Night," a French carol written in 1847. These carols do indeed carry a political and social message, seeing in Christmas the archetype of freedom for all. "Go Tell It on the Mountain" was a slave spiritual surviving in oral tradition but perhaps written down in 1865.

Christmas has become, across the centuries, every culture's beacon of hope for a dark world. But none of the songs above can boast of being the earliest to shine this light. Arguably the oldest Christmas carol outside of the Bible is the poem set to medieval plainchant 1500 years ago. "Of The Father's Love Begotten," a poem written by Roman poet Aurelius Prudentius in the fourth century, is truly the oldest-surviving Christmas carol whose tune and lyrics are still performed today. This song was written to combat heresy and arose out of the core teachings of the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D. This song captures the mystery of the Incarnation in an unforgettably haunting yet simple tune. Here are two different renditions: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14KJY0Z_9O4 or you may prefer this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCzftU79qJg This song isn't easy to find in a hymnal today, but the words will bless you if you read them. https://hymnary.org/text/of_the_fathers_love_begotten The fact that this carol is the earliest known in the Christian church outside of the Bible reflects the early Christians' resistance to celebrating Christmas in particular and birthdays in general. Pope Julius I was the first to establish the celebration of Christmas on December 25th, in 336 A. D. This celebration did not come without its own links to paganism and to the Roman holiday, Sol Invictus, in particular.

Then fast forward to one of the most arrestingly beautiful carols of all time, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel," arising from the eighth and ninth centuries of monastic chants, with Latin words evolving in the 12th century. This carol deserves study in its own right as a mystical blend of political and spiritual freedoms, invoking our Redeemer to "ransom captive Israel." This hymn uses Zacharias's words from Luke 1:78, referring to the Messiah as the "Dayspring" from on High. Jesus is indeed the Dawn of civilization who will "disperse the gloomy clouds of night." The author of this great carol is unknown, although John Mason Neale translated this carol in 1851 as we know it today. Carols like this one, perhaps more than any other, give us the visceral sense of days gone by--of generations waiting earnestly, longingly, and painfully for their promised Messiah to appear.

Then standing almost alone in its doctrinal purity is Charles Wesley's great hymn, "Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus." Our Lord Jesus has indeed come, as "Joy to the World," announces, but our Lord Jesus will come once again, and for this Second Advent we earnestly pray. The revolutionary spirit behind this song, "born to set thy people free," captures not merely the longing for political peace but for freedom from the oppression of sin: "from our fears and sins release us; let us find our rest in Thee." This Messiah is for everyone: "Israel's strength and consolation, hope of all the earth Thou art; dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart." The spirit which Wesley captures in this song reflects his own longing for England to be free--free from slavery, free from domestic violence, free from drunkenness, free from religious oppression, free from working class poverty--in short, free from all the social ills of society caused by inbred sin multiplied among us.

This brings us truly to the oldest Christmas carol: that sung by Mary herself when her cousin Elisabeth greets her prophetically in Luke 1:42-45. The context behind this song is in itself amazing. Mary had been told a few weeks earlier by the angel Gabriel that she would conceive and bear a son by the Holy Spirit, Who would overshadow her. This timid virgin girl is emboldened by obedience (Luke 1:38) on the heels of her bewilderment, and at this time, Gabriel tells Mary that her cousin Elisabeth is six months with child. Mary, then, knowing this about Elisabeth, who had long been barren and who is now expecting the forerunner to Christ Himself, rushes off to the hill country to a city of Judah to see Elisabeth and share her own news. But Elisabeth beats her to it: she already knows. How does she know? The very moment Mary greets her, Elisabeth's son John leaps for joy in her womb. Elisabeth, full of the Holy Spirit, exhorts Mary with the greatest greeting of all time: "the mother of my Lord." How astounded Mary must have been. Surely, she could not have appeared to be with child, less than one month following her great announcement.

Elisabeth's greeting serves as the second witness, Gabriel's being the first, that "with God nothing will be impossible" (Luke 1:37). In like fashion, Elisabeth says some of the most beautiful words in the entire Bible: "And blessed is she that believed: for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord" (Luke 1:45). I don't think we are capable of imagining the unrestrained joy of these two women who are caught up in spontaneous, self-effacing worship of the Lord. From this divine moment overflows Mary's Magnificat, with themes straight out of Hannah's song uttered at the dedication of Samuel 1,000 years earlier. Hannah's song voices the song of the ages--the theme of deliverance from all oppression, political and personal. From this alone, we see how the Lord had gone before Mary, preparing her when she knew it not, as she must have heard and recited Hannah's prayer many times. No doubt, she felt a strange affinity with Hannah's words years before her own youthful surprise, her Lord coming when she least expected Him.

Mary's carol, sung several months before the first "Christmas," mirrors Hannah's prayer in all the same themes: the exaltation of the lowly, the reversal of the mighty, the holiness of the Lord, the rebuking of pride, the feeding of the hungry, the giving of strength to the stumbling, and, most of all, the coming of the Savior. Hannah's song, itself a prayer, found in I Samuel 2:1-10, sets the pattern of the promises which the Messiah alone can fulfill, although her own son Samuel, as the last of the judges and the first of the prophets, fulfills several of these prophecies in part by anointing David as king. Mary's song, found in Luke 1:46-55, is the fulfillment of Hannah's song and carries with it a deeper personal connection of everlasting blessedness. Both women's prayers echo the Lord's promise to Eve that the seed of the woman would crush the serpent's head (Genesis 3:15), and both prayers as songs celebrate a final political victory of the coming Messiah over all of Satan's reign on earth.

Most thrilling of all is that Hannah, when saying, "I rejoice in Your salvation," (I Samuel 2:1) uses the word "Yeshuah," which is the Hebrew word for Jesus. Literally, she is saying, "I rejoice in Your Jesus." When Mary says, "My spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior" (Luke 1:46-47), the Greek word for "Savior" is soter, or "deliverer" and "preserver." From this word we get the word "soteriology," or "the study of salvation." The rescue for which Mary rejoices includes deliverance from peril, sin, and destruction. It is an all-encompassing deliverance from everything that has marred God's original Creation. We see in Mary's personalization of Hannah's prayer how the Lord has indeed shown His mercy "on those who fear Him from generation to generation." Our Lord has not forgotten us, and the words that the Holy Spirit gave Elisabeth to give to Mary were indeed fulfilled: there was indeed a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.

And in like manner, there will indeed be a performance of those things the Lord Himself told His children regarding His return. The best part about Christmas isn't that Jesus came but that He is coming again, and one day you and I will sing the song of the ages with Mary, Hannah, Elisabeth, and John, who wrote the last words of Revelation, "He which testifies these things says, 'Surely I come quickly.' Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus" (Revelation 22:20).

Bessie Porter put Elisabeth's words to poetry like this:

There shall be a performance of those things

That loving heart hath waited long to see;

Those words shall be fulfilled to which she clings,

Because her God hath promised faithfully;

And, knowing Him, she ne’er can doubt His Word;

“He speaks and it is done.” The mighty Lord!

There shall be a performance of those things,

O burdened heart, rest ever in His care;

In quietness beneath His shadowing wings

Await the answer to thy longing prayer.

When thou hast “cast thy care,” the heart then sings,

There shall be a performance of those things.

There shall be a performance of those things,

O tired heart, believe and wait and pray;

At eventide the peaceful vesper rings,

Though cloud and rain and storm have filled the day.

Faith pierces through the mist of doubt that bars

The coming night sometimes, and finds the stars.

There shall be a performance of those things,

O trusting heart, the Lord to thee hath told;

Let Faith and Hope arise, and plume their wings,

And soar towards the sunrise clouds of gold;

The portals of the rosy dawn swing wide,

Revealing joys the darkening night did hide.