For several years during my childhood, I had the privilege of receiving a musical education in the Anglican tradition through the sterling choral program of Trinity on the Green in New Haven, Conn., under the mentorship of renowned conductor Walden Moore. My first year (or, in the parlance of the field, “novice year”) as a treble exposed me to a wealth of traditional Christmas carols that, absent this formation, I doubt I would have encountered elsewhere.
We learned “A Tender Shoot,” which recounts the Old Testament’s anticipation of Jesus’ coming and reminds us that he “turns our darkness into light.” We sang “Balulalow,” Benjamin Britten’s adaptation of a Scots lullaby for the infant Jesus: “O my deare hert, young Jesu sweit, Prepare thy creddil in my spreit/ And I sall rock thee to my hert, And never mair from thee depart.” All of these carols were focused on Jesus—on various images of Jesus (the tender shoot); on the experience of beholding him in the manger; on his pivotal role in the cosmic drama of human salvation.
“Of the Father’s Love Begotten,” which we hear in today’s episode of “Hark!,” fits in this same tradition.
The text reads like an even more poetic version of the Nicene Creed; the very terminology of “begotten” nods to the theological complexity of Jesus’ relationship with the rest of the Trinity as a fully divine human being, a subject that can vex even the most studious theology majors. We have a reference to Jesus as “Alpha and Omega,” alongside an exhortation to the “angel hosts, pow’rs, dominions” to bow down and worship the newborn. The relative simplicity of the music highlights the text, making it more accessible rather than hiding it in melodic thickets. Given my musical background, I’m particularly drawn to this choral version by the singers of Ely Cathedral in Britain, but the austere beauty of the Gregorian-chant rendition also appeals. The music leads me to reflect in more depth on the meaning of Christmas, on the mystery of the Incarnation and on that word in the carol’s title that defines the Christian faith: love.
Although “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” might not be as widely known as “The Little Drummer Boy” or as catchy as “We Three Kings,” it—along with the carols I learned as a young chorister—helps me to enter into a more contemplative experience of Christmas. Listening to this carol during the anticipation-filled weeks of Advent permits me to slow down, to center the core theological and spiritual messages of Christmas and to de-commercialize my experience of the holiday in a way that, let’s face it, plenty of songs about white Christmases, red-nosed reindeer, or presents under the tree do not quite accomplish.
When I decided to write about “Of the Father’s Love Begotten,” I knew that I ran the risk of coming across as a sacred-music snob; when I wrote the preceding paragraph, I realized that I sounded like the Grinch. So let there be no misunderstanding; presents, hot chocolate, Rudolph and (depending on your local climate) flurries of snow are all wonderful features of the Christmas season and brought me great joy as a child! Yet there is an understated beauty to these more classical carols, these theologically rich selections off the beaten musical path, that draws me closer to God.
We seek and find God’s grace in the unfamiliar and the unexpected; moments of spiritual enrichment often come to us through an encounter with something different. Precisely because “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” strikes such a different tone from the peppy, upbeat Christmas carols I hear as I walk past Saks on Fifth Avenue, it captures my attention and directs it to Jesus.
My encouragement to all of you this Advent and Christmas season is to find and listen to one of these carols that rarely top the December charts. What might this carol, and others like it, have to teach us about Jesus’ nature and our relationship with him? Even if the carol at first seems antiquated, stick with it. You never know which insights God might want to share with you in musical contemplation.
