[1] 85 O Come, O Come, Immanuel

‘O come, O come, Immanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
-----Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
-----Shall come to thee, O Israel.’

For your first treat I’ve given you a whole verse-and-chorus of my all-time favourite carol. Musically it excites me greatly. It’s a 15th Century tune, reminiscent of plainchant. Perhaps in this vein the verse would have been sung by a cantor, and a larger group would reply with the part in italics as an antiphon. For me, modality and irregular rhythms are to music what cinnamon and brandy are to cakes – they make it all Christmassy.

This being my favourite carol, I could recite the lyrics without really thinking about them. This is the big problem with most high-profile hymns; you just don’t have to pay much attention. One aim of this project is to examine these works more closely, to draw out whatever truth may lie under years of yellowing varnish. With that in mind, let’s have a look at this first verse.

It’s not exactly a cheery one, is it?! In fact the author (unhelpfully cited in my book as ‘18th Century Latin’…) has actively chosen to heighten the feeling of mourning. He emphasises ‘come’ by adding ‘O’, perhaps a groan or cry of desperation. He then repeats this exhortation, since once evidently was not enough to express the grief in the singer’s soul.

The grief is not one that we, as gentile Christians, can easily relate to. On the surface, this is a political song. Even by the time of Jesus’ birth, the Jews had long suffered under the hands of various oppressors. They had been captive under Egypt, under Babylonia, and more pertinently, under Rome. Many of us will not know this feeling of persecution, and through no fault of our own will find it hard to identify. In the verse, ‘Israel’ is presented as a faceless mass – how can we empathise with a whole nation, or with an author whose name has not been recorded?

When I sing this song, which I do a lot at this time of year, I don’t see ‘Israel’ as the corporate bloc of the Hebrew nation. For me, the author is talking about each of us, personally. ‘Israel’ is me. It’s you. It’s every one of us, individually. Jesus comes to pay ransom, blood ransom, for Israel’s salvation, for our salvation; he liberates us from our captivity, returns us from our wandering exile.

There is a huge mood change after the verse. The singer of the first four lines is still waiting for Christ to arrive. They are waiting and hoping and asking and crying and knowing he’s coming but worrying none-the-less. The singers (plural) of the afore-mentioned antiphon are joyfully comforting the lonely cantor. They are saying that ‘Israel’ (this means YOU!) should bloody-well stop worrying! Christ is coming to thee, yes, to thee sat there on thy computer. Suddenly this dreary, dusty, woeful tune becomes one which is alive, full of good news, and aimed at you personally. The glory is in the transition: from expectant sufferer to rejoicing receiver. Thanks be to God!