From My Nature Journal: "Hark How All the Welkin Rings!"

Say what?  What in the world is a welkin? When I was very young, my folks and sibs used to watch The Lawrence Welk Show every Saturday night together, my older brothers likely just to see the Lennon Sisters. One might hear at some point throughout those Saturdays, “Are we Welkin’ tonight?” But that’s not what I’m talking about. Still, the phrase sure has a familiar ‘ring’ to it, or at least a recognizable rhythm…

Some time ago, welkin was what showed up on my Merriam-Webster Word of the Day app. An old word, I was not familiar with it, defined as A) the vault of the sky, B) the celestial abode of God or the gods, and C) the upper atmosphere. And as a card-carrying member of both the ISC (the Inveterate Skywatchers Club) and the CES (the Chronic Etymologists Society), welkin looked like a word I ought to know better.

One of the things I love about good dictionaries is their practice, after their definition, of then using the word in a sentence, not just a random and made-up sentence, but one in published literature. These quotes can be obtuse or complicated, and all are well-written, but some can also be quite lovely, and that day’s sentences were of the latter sort. My favorite was from an 1848 tome with both a great title -- Harold, The Last of the Saxon Kings -- and a great name for the author, Edward Bulwer Lytton. His sentence: "The night was dim, but not dark; no moon shone, but the stars, wan though frequent, gleamed pale, as from the farthest deeps of the heaven; clouds grey and fleecy rolled slowly across the welkin, veiling and disclosing, by turns, the melancholy orbs." 

Beautiful! Doesn’t that sentence just transport you to the place? I’m not sure what all that had to do with old King Harold, but I still wish I could write like that. 

M-W’s Word of the Day went on to say that, though welkin has seen English usage since the 1200’s in reference to the once mysterious firmament, coming from the Old English and Old High German words for cloud, in current usage it is often paired with the verb to ring, expressing a loud noise or exuberance of emotion, sometimes even associated with the skies. Thunder? The sound of an explosion? 

Or the sound of an angelic choir, mayhap? After all, the Bible does say of God, “Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds! (Psalm 36:5)” But it’s the angelic choir thing that catches me and that I thought fun to share today, for Hark how all the welkin rings are Charles Wesley’s original opening words of the Christmas carol sung today as Hark! The Herald Angels Sing! 

Who knew? I’m not sure when the words got changed, but here’s a photo of the original text in a hymnal dated 1739. I will print it as large as I can so you may look closely. You may be able to click on the photo to enlarge it a bit.

Many of our modern lyrics are intact, but note that Wesley’s stanzas are half the size of our carol’s. That is because the text was not paired with its common tune until over a hundred years later, a tune of German composer Felix Mendelssohn. Note also the complexity of Wesley’s theology in his last four stanzas, omitted from hymnals long ago. I particularly love the line in stanza eight, Now display thy saving power; ruined nature now restore. That is surely a prayer that all of us who are committed to Biblical earth stewardship take to heart and work toward.

Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King!” What a welkin display THAT must have been for the shepherds that first Christmas night!

~~ Blessed Christmas, 

RGM, December 18, 2021

From My Nature Journal: Solstice and its Illogical Contradiction

(Today's blogpost is a repeat of one I've done in the past, as things are quite busy right now with work responsibilities and family gatherings. But I do think a lot about this concept this time of year, and it gives me joy. Merry Christmas!)

Today is the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. Though the day officially launches the season we call winter, it curiously also marks a seemingly contradictory turning point: as of this day in the earth’s annual trek around the sun, the Northern Hemisphere increases its direct angle toward the sun’s rays. Consequently, here in the north, daylight will begin to lengthen starting this very day, as will our hemisphere’s warming, and these two phenomena will continue for the next six months until the summer solstice in June similarly heralds a return to winter. Of course, the opposite of these are true in the Southern Hemisphere: today is their longest day of the year.

It is curious to me that the first day of winter is also the first day of winter’s expiration, its demise. One would think winter’s opening day would portend more of the same with nothing to contradict it, nothing but cold, dark barrenness, bleakness, or as the poet says, earth standing “…cold as iron, water like a stone.” We don’t call it the ‘dead of winter’ for nothing.

But there it is, the illogical and illuminating contradiction: light. Its return mocks winter, scoffs at the cold, derides the bleakness. Each day that follows, the sun rises just a little earlier and sets just a little later. Winter anticipates spring, death foresees life, dark predestines light, cold envisages warmth: these are the paradoxes of the seasonal change we call the winter solstice.

So it is no coincidence that the early church chose to recognize the solstice as the most appropriate time to celebrate the birth of Christ. Now, in actual fact, Jesus’ birth likely took place some time during what we call October. I am not certain how that is surmised, but it has something to do with the timing of Jewish festivals and the typical season a census would have been called by Rome (see Luke 2:1-4), not likely the dead of winter.

But no. Indian Summer, beautiful as it is, just won’t do. To celebrate something as significant as the incarnation a time is needed that makes a statement, a time that belies its context, that refutes the cold, that calls out the stony spiritual stupor right in the midst of its bleak midwinter and long underwear. Solstice. Now there is an appropriate time to celebrate the Light of the world.

To celebrate something as significant as the incarnation, a

time is needed that makes a statement, a time that

belies its context, that refutes the cold, that calls

out the stony spiritual stupor right in the midst

of its bleak midwinter and long underwear.

And so we do. We know there is no life without light. Light begets being, a commonly known biological fact.

The same is true in the spirit world. St. John the Evangelist puts it this way: In him (Jesus) was life, and that life was the light for humanity. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:4-5). Or later, sharing the very words of Jesus himself, he writes, And Jesus spoke to them saying, “I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life (John 8:12).” Or take it all the way back to the prophet hundreds of years before Christ. Anticipating the coming Messiah, Isaiah foretold: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned (Isaiah 9:2).

Light dispels darkness, not the other way 'round. Open a door into a dark closet and what happens? Does the darkness come creeping into the room in which you stand? No the opposite holds, and always will. Light outmaneuvers darkness.

So, solstice is here. I look forward to it not only because of Christmas but because it heralds the return of summer. Celebrate the light with me. Proclaim the truth of the Christmas carol:

          Light and life to all he brings,

          Ris'n with healing in His wings.

That's from Hark the Herald Angels Sing, by Charles Wesley, written in 1739. Or, if you prefer, fast forward to Bing Crosby (1963):

          The Child, the child, sleeping in the night,

          He will bring us goodness and light.

Let there be Light!

~~ RGM, From an 

Earlier Blog Entry

From My Nature Journal: Solstice and its Illogical Contradiction

Today is the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. Though the day officially launches the season we call winter, it curiously also marks a seemingly contradictory turning point: as of this day in the earth’s annual trek around the sun, the Northern Hemisphere increases its direct angle toward the sun’s rays. Consequently, here in the north, daylight will begin to lengthen starting this very day, as will our hemisphere’s warming, and these two phenomena will continue for the next six months until the summer solstice in June similarly heralds a return to winter. Of course, the opposite of these are true in the Southern Hemisphere: today is their longest day of the year.

It is curious to me that the first day of winter is also the first day of winter’s expiration, its demise. One would think winter’s opening day would portend more of the same with nothing to contradict it, nothing but cold, dark barrenness, bleakness, or as the poet says, earth standing “…cold as iron, water like a stone.” We don’t call it the ‘dead of winter’ for nothing.

But there it is, the illogical and illuminating contradiction: light. Its return mocks winter, scoffs at the cold, derides the bleakness. Each day that follows, the sun rises just a little earlier and sets just a little later. Winter anticipates spring, death foresees life, dark predestines light, cold envisages warmth: these are the paradoxes of the seasonal change we call the winter solstice.

So it is no coincidence that the early church chose to recognize the solstice as the most appropriate time to celebrate the birth of Christ. Now, in actual fact, Jesus’ birth likely took place some time during what we call October. I am not certain how that is surmised, but it has something to do with the timing of Jewish festivals and the typical season a census would have been called by Rome (see Luke 2:1-4), not likely the dead of winter.

But no. Indian Summer, beautiful as it is, just won’t do. To celebrate something as significant as the incarnation a time is needed that makes a statement, a time that belies its context, that refutes the cold, that calls out the stony spiritual stupor right in the midst of its bleak midwinter and long underwear. Solstice. Now there is an appropriate time to celebrate the Light of the world.

To celebrate something as significant as the incarnation, a

time is needed that makes a statement, a time that

belies its context, that refutes the cold, that calls

out the stony spiritual stupor right in the midst

of its bleak midwinter and long underwear.

And so we do. We know there is no life without light. Light begets being, a commonly known biological fact.

The same is true in the spirit world. St. John the Evangelist puts it this way: In him (Jesus) was life, and that life was the light for humanity. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:4-5). Or later, sharing the very words of Jesus himself, he writes, And Jesus spoke to them saying, “I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life (John 8:12).” Or take it all the way back to the prophet hundreds of years before Christ. Anticipating the coming Messiah, Isaiah foretold: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned (Isaiah 9:2).

Light dispels darkness, not the other way 'round. Open a door into a dark closet and what happens? Does the darkness come creeping into the room in which you stand? No, the opposite holds, and always will. Light outmaneuvers darkness.

So, solstice is here, one of my favorite times of the year, not only because of Christmas but because it heralds the return of summer. Celebrate the Light with me. Proclaim the truth of the Christmas carol:

          Light and life to all He brings,

          Ris'n with healing in His wings.

That's from Charles Wesley's Hark the Herald Angels Sing, written in 1739. Or, if you prefer, fast forward to Bing Crosby, 1963, in Do You Hear what I Hear?

          The Child, the Child, sleeping in the night:

          He will bring us goodness and light.

Let there be light!

~~ RGM, from an earlier journal and blog

entry I wrote on December 21, 2012

Blowin' in the Wind: Another Song for the Season

(Blowin’ in the Wind is a regular feature on my blog consisting of an assortment of nature writings – hymns, songs, excerpts, prayers, Bible readings, poems or other things – pieces I may not have written but that inspire me or have given me joy. I trust they will do the same for you.)

We’ve just come through the highest of holy days in the Christian faith, and my heart is absolutely full: I was able to lead Easter worship yesterday for the first time since 1996. Being on mid-judicatory denominational staff all the years since then has provided its wonderful ministry blessings, but wow, I have missed worship leading!

I’m brought back in memory to my first Easter away from local parish church ministry. My wife and kids and I were visiting family in Florida that holiday, something a pastor’s family is not typically able to do. (It had been nearly two decades for us.) But as the pastor in my in-laws’ church stood for the call to worship, leading the resounding call and response, “Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!” silent tears coursed down my cheeks, and I got so choked up not a word could be croaked of the traditional hymn that followed, Christ the Lord is Risen Today. I was wishing I were the one up there leading that proclamation that wonderful holiday.

Not so this year! As a result, I find my spirit overflowing with the songs of the season in a renewed way, having pored over the hymnal’s Lenten and Resurrection sections, seeing again all the good old tunes, reminding me of what I have missed. In the process, I was looking for one that had occurred to me while writing my blog two weeks ago on the heavens declaring the glory of God, Christ Whose Glory Fills the Skies, and did not find it in one of those two hymn sections. There it was among the Epiphany hymns, appropriately so, but as I got reacquainted I thought it could also be a good’n to be reminded of during Eastertide.

It’s a ‘greatest hit’ from renowned Methodist hymnwriter Charles Wesley, right up there in my estimation with his Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Amazing Love, O For a Thousand Tongues, and the above-mentioned Christ the Lord is Risen Today, these among more than 6,000 that he wrote! Here it is, written in 1740, published since in over 400 hymnals, Christ Whose Glory Fills the Skies.

Christ, Whose Glory Fills the Skies, by Charles Wesley

Christ, Whose glory fills the skies,

Christ, the true, the only Light,

Sun of Righteousness, arise!

Triumph o’er the shades of night!

Dayspring from on high, be near;

Day Star, in my heart appear.

Dark and cheerless is the morn

Unaccompanied by Thee.

Joyless is the day’s return

Till Thy mercy’s beams I see,

Till they inward light impart,

Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.

Visit then this soul of mine.

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief.

Fill me, Radiancy Divine;

Scatter all my unbelief.

More and more Thyself display,

Shining to the perfect day.

As mentioned above, I wrote two weeks ago on “The heavens declare the glory of God (Psalm 19:1),” of the sky’s luminaries and phenomena reflecting God’s grandeur. Yet this old hymn picks up the skyward glory of God from another angle, Christ’s glory, the Light of the world, whose radiance dispels doubt, brightens the world’s troubling shadows, and lightens the load being borne by every child of earth. It’s not the Easter story per se, but it’s what was accomplished as the result of the Lord’s resurrection.

It’s a true truth worth contemplating awhile, and I will. Perhaps you, too.

Happy Easter!

~~RGM, April 6, 2015