“At Christmas” by Frank O’Malley

Ernst, Max_Thirty-Three Little Girls Set Out for the White Butterfly Hunt
Max Ernst (German French, 1891–1976), Thirty-Three Little Girls Set Out for the White Butterfly Hunt, 1958. Oil on canvas, 137 × 107 cm. Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.

Let the Christbrand burst!
Let the Christbrand blazon!
Dartle whitely under the hearth-fire,
Unwind the wind, turn the thunderer,
And never, never thinning,
Forfend fear.
Flare up smartly, fix, flex, bless, inspire,
Instar the time, sear the sorcerer,
And never, never sparing,
Save all year.
Let the Christbrand burst!
Let the Christbrand blazon!

This poem appears in Scholastic 115, no. 10 (March 1, 1974), a publication of the University of Notre Dame. It is also kept in the Francis J. O’Malley Papers in the university’s archives (see CFOM 7/26), though they do not own the copyright and do not know who does. I post it under Fair Use.

Born in Massachusetts in 1909, Francis (Frank) J. O’Malley studied at the University of Notre Dame in Indiana as an undergraduate from 1928 to 1932 and earned his master’s in history there the following year. He wanted to pursue further studies in literature, but there were no UND doctoral programs in that field at the time. Even without a PhD, he was hired by Notre Dame to teach in the English department, which he did for forty-one years, until his death in 1974. For the entire duration of his career, he lived on campus in Lyons Hall, and he is buried in the university’s Holy Cross Community Cemetery.

O’Malley had a huge influence on students—not just literary but also moral and religious. His “Modern Catholic Writers” and “Philosophy of English Literature” courses are legendary, and he served as a mentor to hundreds. He also dabbled in writing poetry, his style influenced by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and he maintained correspondence with writers like Willa Cather and Jacques Maritain.

I don’t know what year O’Malley wrote his Hopkins-esque poem “At Christmas,” but it was sometime before 1966. Using the metaphor of a firebrand, it anticipates the kindling and flaring up of Christ’s kingdom in the world. I read it as an Advent prayer. I love not only its central image of the Incarnation as an ongoing blaze, but also its clever play with language and its rhythmic quality, formed in part by consonance (the repetition of consonant sounds).

To dartle means to shoot forth repeatedly, so the image in that line is of a crackling hearth fire, something homey and welcoming. The image then shifts to a piece of burning wood held aloft for light and protection—casting out shadows, thwarting attackers. (To forfend is to ward off something evil.)

An “instar” is a stage in the life of an insect between two successive molts. O’Malley uses the word as a verb, suggesting that Christ’s birth means the old is gone and the new is come. It’s a turning point in world history.

The sorcerer in line 8 likely refers to Satan, a reference reinforced by the alliteration of the letter s, which hisses like a serpent.

“Sparing” can have multiple meanings, but I think of Romans 8:32: “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all . . .” The speaker asks God to not withhold himself, to come again for his people, bringing redemption.

The word “firebrand” is commonly used to describe a person who is divisive, someone who creates trouble, who instigates. Jesus definitely fits that description! He rattled the powers and authorities of his day and initiated a new covenant through his blood, through the scandal of the cross. His coming lit a fire that has never thinned or tapered off but, on the contrary, gained intensity as it spread from Judea and Samaria into the uttermost parts of the earth. And that fire continues to burn brightly in communities from east to west, north to south, where the gospel is lived out and proclaimed.

Advent, Day 2: Fire

LOOK: Jyoti Sahi (Indian, 1944–), Jesus Offering the Light (Arathi), 2004. Oil on canvas. Private collection, California, USA. For commentary by the artist, visit his blog.

Sahi, Jyoti_Jesus Offering the Light

LISTEN: “Within Our Darkest Night” by Jacques Berthier (Taizé community), 1991 [sheet music]

Within our darkest night
You kindle the fire that never dies away
That never dies away

Update, 1/12/21: I just came across the following quote in an Advent devotional (which arrived on order from my library after Advent!), and I instantly thought of this blog post.

Light comes pretty inexpensively and maybe even too conveniently to us. With batteries in flashlights and the cool-to-the-touch fluorescent glow of chemical lights, Christ might well say to us anew: “You are the fire of the world.” Fire is heat and combustion—fuel actively being consumed and transformed into energy. “Fire!” is a cry for attention, and a warning for anyone who is unprepared. That must be what Our Lord had in mind when he said, “You are the light of the world.” We have grown accustomed to Advent being a season of light, but let’s agree to make this Advent a season of fire. Be consumed by the energy that dwells and is growing within. Let it burn in you. Let God use fire to purify the cosmos through you and make ready the Way of the Lord.

—Thomas Hoffman, A Child in Winter: Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany with Caryll Houselander, p. 61


For each day of the first week of Advent I am publishing one art-and-song pairing as an invitation for seasonal reflection.

This Little Light of Mine (Artful Devotion)

Schalcken, Godfried_A Boy Blowing on a Firebrand
Godfried Schalcken (Dutch, 1643–1706), A Boy Blowing on a Firebrand to Light a Candle, 1692–98. Oil on canvas, 75 × 63.5 cm. Scottish National Gallery, Edinburgh. Photo: Antonia Reeve.

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.

—Matthew 5:14–16

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SONG: “This Little Light of Mine,” American folk song, early twentieth century

[DaNell Daymon and Greater Works, feat. Kenisha Blackman, on America’s Got Talent, episode 1204, in 2017]

“This Little Light of Mine” is often attributed, with a date of 1920, to composer Harry Dixon Loes (1895–1965), a white man from the Midwestern United States; sometimes Avis B. Christiansen (1895–1985), a regular collaborator of his, is credited as lyricist. But according to NPR, “researchers at Moody Bible Institute, where Loes taught for 21 years, say they found no evidence he wrote the song or claimed to write it.” Other sources call the song a Negro spiritual, but because it doesn’t appear in any collection of plantation songs from the nineteenth century, that’s probably not true. It’s possible either the lyrics or melody or both originated in postbellum African American communities, and that Loes acted as an adapter/arranger. Either way, documentation is lacking. For more on the song’s attribution difficulties, see this blog post by the Rev. Daniel Harper, who concludes that it’s probably best to cite the song’s author as “Unknown.”

The earliest recording of the song is a version sung by Doris McMurray, a black inmate at Gorree State Farm prison in Huntsville, Texas, which music preservationists John and Ruby Lomax collected during their 1939 Southern States recording trip. Thereafter it became popular on a wider scale in both the black gospel and white folk traditions.

In 1952 it was recorded by the Ward Singers with a bridge—again, whose authorship is unknown:

On Monday, he gave me the gift of love;
On Tuesday, peace came from above.
On Wednesday, he told me to have more faith;
On Thursday, he gave me a little more grace.
On Friday, he told me to watch and pray;
On Saturday, he told me just what to say.
On Sunday, he gave me power divine
Just to let my little light shine.

This version is the one sung by folkies Pete Seeger and Bob Gibson.

During the 1950s and ’60s, “This Little Light of Mine” became an important civil rights anthem, a special favorite of Fannie Lou Hamer’s. The lyrics were adapted by Zilphia Horton, among others, to suit the context of freedom marches, etc. In 1959 Moe Asch of Folkway Records recorded an impromptu session at a Highlander Center workshop for activists in Tennessee, featuring a trio of high school students from the Montgomery Improvement Association: Mary Ethel Dozier, Minnie Hendrick, and Gladys Burnette Carter. The guitar accompaniment is by Guy Carawan, and the bass voice is Sam Collier of the Nashville Quartet from American Baptist Theological Seminary:

They sing, “Deep down in the South, I’m gonna let it shine . . .” and “We’ve got the light of freedom . . . God gave it to us . . .”

Bettie Mae Fikes, a song leader from the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) in Selma, Alabama, markedly inserted the names of oppressors into the verses, such as Selma’s then sheriff: “Tell Jim Clark, I’m gonna let it shine!” Or “Tell the KKK,” or “our president.” Bold lines like these really bring out the defiance aspect of the song.

Although a piece of Americana, “This Little Light of Mine” caught on worldwide. It is part of the repertoire of the Soweto Gospel Choir from South Africa, who sings it in English and Zulu (“M’Lilo Vutha Mathanjeni”), often in medley with “If You Ever Needed the Lord”:

The song is also sometimes sung in medley with Jester Hairston’s “Amen,” as at the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on May 19, 2018, where it was performed by the Kingdom Choir. This mashup has been recorded over the years by such soul artists as Sam Cooke (1964), Otis Redding (1966), and Etta James (1982).

Some notable renditions from the twenty-first century are by Odetta with the Boys Choir of Harlem (sung on The Late Show with David Letterman just after 9/11) (2001), Joss Stone and Buick Audra (2009), The Lower Lights (2009), and Bruce Springsteen with the Seeger Sessions Band:

In public arenas the song is sometimes decoupled from its Christian-specific context and used to proclaim more generally one’s inherent dignity or one’s uniqueness or potential or agency or the fire in one’s belly. That’s not incompatible with the intent of the passage in Matthew’s Gospel on which the song is based, but it stops a bit short, as the Gospel writer implies that the light is the light of the Christ who lives in us, and says that by letting him shine through—by letting people see the beauty of his gospel, expressed in deeds—we draw others into a state of gratitude and praise to God.


This post belongs to the weekly series Artful Devotion. If you can’t view the music player in your email or RSS reader, try opening the post in your browser.

To view all the Revised Common Lectionary scripture readings for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, cycle A, click here.

Dawning Light (Artful Devotion)

Tutin, Judith_Breaking
Judith Tutin (Irish, 1979–), Breaking, 2011. Diptych, St. Aidan’s Cathedral, Enniscorthy, County Wexford, Ireland.

But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
on them has light shone.
You have multiplied the nation;
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as they are glad when they divide the spoil.
For the yoke of his burden,
and the staff for his shoulder,
the rod of his oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
and every garment rolled in blood
will be burned as fuel for the fire.

—Isaiah 9:1–5

Now when he heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee. And leaving Nazareth he went and lived in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:

“The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali,
the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—
the people dwelling in darkness
have seen a great light,
and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death,
on them a light has dawned.”

From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

—Matthew 4:12–17

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SONG: “The Dawning Light” by James Ward, 1998 (CCLI 4200451)

 

This song was recorded live in 1998 at the Resurrection Youth Convention in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The MP3 can be downloaded for free, along with sheet music, at http://ncfmusic.com/resource/dawning-light/.

For a previously featured James Ward song, see the Artful Devotion “Death Is Ended.”

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The Jewish prophet Isaiah was active during the Assyrian captivity in the second half of the eighth century B.C. The Israelite lands of Zebulun and Naphtali were, along with Gilead in Transjordan, the first to fall to Assyria; the people were deported, and their lands became Assyrian provinces. But these three areas, according to Isaiah 9:1, would also be the first to see the dawning of a glorious new era, where the people step out of darkness and desolation into the fruits of God’s victory, and all military equipment is cast once and for all into an enormous bonfire, for war is over, and oppression is no more.

In The Prophecy of Isaiah: An Introduction and Commentary, biblical scholar J. Alec Motyer emphasizes how Isaiah 9:2–5 is couched in past tenses, even though what it describes has not yet occurred:

The future is written as something which has already happened, for it belonged to the prophetic consciousness of men like Isaiah to cast themselves forward in time and then look back on the mighty acts of God, saying to us: ‘Look forward to it, it is certain, he has already done it!’ Because of this confidence, Isaiah can place the light of 9:1ff. in immediate proximity to the darkness of 8:22, not because it will immediately happen but because it is immediately evident to the eye of faith; those walking in the darkness can see the light ahead and are sustained by hope. . . .

Isaiah insists here that hope is a present reality, part of the constitution of the ‘now’. The darkness is true but it is not the whole truth and certainly not the fundamental truth. (98–99)


This post belongs to the weekly series Artful Devotion. If you can’t view the music player in your email or RSS reader, try opening the post in your browser.

To view all the Revised Common Lectionary scripture readings for the Third Sunday after Epiphany, cycle A, click here.

“Matins” by George Herbert

Industrial Cottage (detail) by James Rosenquist
James Rosenquist (American, 1933–2017), Industrial Cottage (upper right detail), 1977. Oil on canvas, 80 × 182 in. (203.2 × 462.3 cm). Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.

I cannot ope mine eyes,
But thou art ready there to catch
My morning-soul and sacrifice:
Then we must needs for that day make a match.

My God, what is a heart?
Silver, or gold, or precious stone,
Or star, or rainbow, or a part
Of all these things, or all of them in one?

My God, what is a heart,
That thou shouldst it so eye, and woo,
Pouring upon it all thy art,
As if that thou hadst nothing else to do?

Indeed man’s whole estate
Amounts (and richly) to serve thee:
He did not heav’n and earth create,
Yet studies them, not him by whom they be.

Teach me thy love to know;
That this new light, which now I see,
May both the work and workman show:
Then by a sunbeam I will climb to thee.

Welcome the Word (Artful Devotion)

Rays by Denis Sarazhin
Denis Sarazhin (Ukrainian, 1982–), Rays, 2012. Oil on canvas, 150 × 90 cm.

Rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.

—James 1:21

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SONG: “He Is Able” by Josh White, on Achor (2010)


This post belongs to the weekly series Artful Devotion. If you can’t view the music player in your email or RSS reader, try opening the post in your browser.

To view all the Revised Common Lectionary scripture readings for Proper 17, cycle B, click here.