Great Expectations
It’s the real story without time.
It sweeps forever across the universe as a triumphal march of Glory. The galaxies hold fast at the command of the story’s Teller — revealed in the splendors of the Creation, or a magnificent sunset, a mighty storm at night for thirsty Earth. It twinkles in the smile of a child and laughs in the hearts of wise men and women.
It condemns the haughty and rebukes the unjust, yet waits patiently for them. The story always remains, always expecting a changed heart.
The story is the sweep of all history in the snap of a twig, slipping like a sparrow easily from branch to branch. Time in the story is an unknowable contradiction because the story holds all time like a child does a marble — not as an integral something, but as a mere thing.
The story is about Love.
The Tithe of Love
It’s about a Love that the Creation can only give, not demand. It’s a profound, singular Love that spreads as does the universe itself – forever without bounds, stations, or byways. It goes to and fro and — loves. It is not a smothering Love but the gentlest kiss, a light touch, or a sweet taste an eternity beyond the five senses. It is complete Reality itself. It is the Love of life itself. It’s a Love so rich that all the gemstones and gold of the earth would amount not even to a single grain of sand on Love’s never-ending beach.
Yet the Lover demands love as a heart’s tithe — the hardest riches to mine.
But, the scientists always want to know where the story, this Love, comes from? The truth is that knowing that secret would be to know the Lover in an impossible intimacy. Great philosophers, intellectuals, and sophisticated thinkers churn the story to skim off the butter of doubt, only to be confounded when the story never fades away, stops, or dies. They think their story and ways are better: Love is a waste they come to hate because they don’t know it. They always plot its death.
The story sighs at their pretension. The story knows forever. Always. Ancient people seemed to know. Some of their music and hymns of awe to the Lover reflected the mystery that there was an eternal fountain of hope that would wipe away the tears of living in a fallen world one day.
Great Songs of Love
One such hymn had its roots in the eighth-century church, when O Antiphons were first used for singing psalms or chants leading through Advent to Christmas.
I’m partial to “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” for this. It carries a sense of wonder – and a lament of deep yearning and unsatisfied thirst for God to come to His people. All people.
At first, it only had five O Antiphons: “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” followed by “O come thou rod of Jesse,” “O Come, thou Dayspring, from on high,” O Come, thou Key of David, Come,” and “O Come Adonai, Lord of Might.”
Somewhere along the road, two additional O Antiphons were adopted into this clan. “O Come thou wisdom from on high,” and “O Come, desire of nations, bind.”
Later, the song was published in Germany and England, using some or all of the verses and sometimes paired with different tunes. But the modern melody goes back to at least the 15th century.
“Emmanuel,” of course, means “God with us.” So the chant starts with the haunting plea, “O come, O come!” For the ancient Jews, who had suffered exile and defeat, the coming Messiah – the “Anointed One” — would be a liberator, their only hope. But the chant reveals the Anointed One as the Son of God — the whole world’s hope. It was a rescue mission for all people throughout all time.
Next, the chant looks for the “Rod of Jesse” to free us from Satan’s tyranny and give us victory over the grave, a reference to Isaiah 11:1-2, and its prophecy that from the “stem” of Jesse, a branch would grow that would be the awaited Messiah. Next is the Dayspring, the coming of Light into the world and dispersing death’s shadow.
Each Antiphon gives us a word picture of the coming King and builds a longing for His mercy and Love. In the end, it calls the Risen King Jesus “the desire of nations,” saying heaven’s peace would come with this Anointed One.
In its lament, these ancient words go through the story as given to us. It is the only story that answers the great questions of life: Why are we here? Where and how do we know love? Are we significant? Are we part of the story? It is an old lament worthy of a moment’s reflection this Christmastide.
O come, O come. Emmanuel! O come!
[Note: Readers will see many variations of the lyrics of this song from the original version. Most modern versions have used O Come Thou Bright and Morning Star to replace “Adonai” as an example. Other modern lyrics have fiddled with different wording as well. MG]
Michael Giere writes award-winning commentary and essays on the intersection of politics, culture, and faith. He is a critically acclaimed novelist (The White River Series) and short-story writer. A former candidate for the US House of Representatives from Texas, he was a senior executive in both the Reagan and the Bush (41) administrations, and in 2016 served on the Trump Transition Team.