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 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

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 daylight of the year. (Want to see how the earth works? Click here.)

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 a 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 trumps 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.

               (from Hark, The Herald Angels Sing 

               by Charles Wesley, 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 journal entry

that I wrote on December 21, 2012