lyrics for living 2 (a thrill of hope)

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth ... to sit in a pew stuffed with my kids, giving O Holy Night a real rip together. But it ain't gonna happen this year.

The divas line up to sing this song, don't they? Go to youtube. They are all there. Mariah. Whitney. Celine. Gladys. Kelly. Christina. Carrie. Charlotte. Susan ... even NSync :). I guess they love the possibilities which the swelling melody provides to showcase their voices. Every year facebook is abuzz with the latest recording of this song. This year it seems to be Home Free that is all the rage - but when that guy gives his little smile at 2.28 and then again at 2.40, it almost makes me want to throw-up somewhere. What on earth was he thinking? Not too much about the words methinks.

I've watched about twenty versions of this song. There is something sad about divas singing 'fall on your knees' when they have no intention of doing so. There is something cynical about using a song designed to show-off Jesus as a way to show-off your own voice. Plus they have a way of playing with the lyrics: changing words ('weary soul' instead of 'weary world'); deleting words (where did 'Christ is the Lord' go?); and even avoiding entire verses. About four out of five recordings omit this verse:

Truly he taught us to love one another.
His law is love and his gospel is peace.
Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother
    and in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we
    let all within us praise his holy name.

This hymn gained some momentum during the American Civil War, 150+ years ago. I guess 'chains shall he break for the slave is our brother' becomes a bit unfashionable today, doesn't it? But this is the very 'lyric for living' on which I want to focus.

Firstly, slavery is still alive and wrecking lives - so let's guard how we think.

But I want to probe further. In the author's day the slave was at the other end of the scale, be it a socio-economic one, an education one - or, a freedom one. The glorious subversion in this verse is its affirmation that such a person - as far from the nuclear family as you can be - is drawn into that very family. As a brother. A sister. An uncle. An aunt.

Today the person at the other end of such scales is almost always a poor person.

We know that poverty is not so much the absence of wealth, but the absence of opportunity. But a visit to Mother (Teresa) House in Kolkata earlier this month thickened my understanding of poverty even further. She identified with 'the unloved, the unwanted, the unclaimed'. The poor. Did you know that in the morgues of Delhi, 10 bodies arrive each day who are unclaimed - presumably because they are unwanted and unloved? Just one such body in a morgue in a year in New Zealand would make a screaming headline.

This leads to a further thickening of definition. Is poverty linked to the absence of mediated attention? [Please tell me if there is a better phrase]. One of the shameful scars which will continue to identify 2014 is the way the world woke up to the Ebola virus only when it infected a person who was not poor (and who was white...!) and so who had the 'power' to attract the attention of the media. Poverty thrives in places where the media headline and image does not go. We need to do a better job of finding those places - through committed friendships and attentive learning, for starters - and not leave the media to control the direction and flow of our compassion.

On receiving his Nobel Prize earlier this month, Kailash Satyarthi - a Hindu from India, committed to freeing children from slavery - gave a brilliant speech. Here is an extract:

You and I live in the age of rapid globalisation. We are connected through high-speed Internet. We exchange goods and services in a single global market. Each day, thousands of flights connect us to every corner of the globe.
But there is one serious disconnect. It is the lack of compassion. Let us inculcate and transform the individuals' compassion into a global movement. Let us globalise compassion. Not passive compassion, but transformative compassion that leads to justice, equality, and freedom.
Mahatma Gandhi said, "If we are to teach real peace in this world... we shall have to begin with the children.” I humbly add, let us unite the world through the compassion for our children.
Whose children are they who stitch footballs, yet have never played with one? They are our children. Whose children are they who mine stones and minerals? They are our children. Whose children are they who harvest cocoa, yet do not know the taste of a chocolate? They are all our children.
I am glad that he has said this. But I do feel a sadness, even a shame again. I wish that followers of Jesus were universally synonymous with this kind of talk. I am no Kailash. My sense of call has not driven me to identify as he has done. But ever since that tsunami struck ten years ago this week, I have been convinced that this 'globalising of compassion' is what the world needs and what the Lord requires of us. I have written and spoken about it - frequently. The best way to globalise compassion is to think in terms of a global family, as this hymn suggests.

Not many of us can identify with the 'unloved, the unwanted, the unclaimed' like Mother Theresa did - but we can all identify more fully with those who do. [NB: for example, we came across one such possibility while in Kolkata]. And closer to home, there will be the 'unloved, the unwanted, the unclaimed' whom we can transform into our brother or sister, our uncle or auntie - even our child.

Look carefully this Christmas. How can the family be extended? Give it a go and be part of spreading 'a thrill of hope (in which) a weary world rejoices'.

I struggled to find a recording of this song that I like. While not everything about this version draws me, the power and passion in David Phelps' voice and the sense I get that he believes what he is singing makes it my choice.

That is a refreshing change from the divas, let me tell you.



nice chatting

Paul

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