I've always been quite taken with Stephen Cleobury's arrangement of "The Cherry Tree Carol".
It's a traditional English carol about a pregnant Mary and her husband Joseph walking through an orchard. Mary wants a cherry and the cherry tree itself, recognizing who Mary is, bows down to her so that she can easily pluck cherries.
I find the idea compelling. Nature itself recognizing the Queen of Heaven.
And because Mary is still pregnant throughout this carol, it works at Advent or Christmas carol services.
But as I compared two slightly different versions of Cleobury's arrangement recently, I noticed a profound difference in the role Joseph plays in the carol.
In Cleobury's first version of this arrangement from 1985, he sets a seven stanza version of the carol. (This version is available in a publication called A Trio of Carols from Oxford.) Joseph doesn't really do or say much here.
"Old" version from 1985
Joseph was an old man And an old man was he, When he wedded Mary, In the land of Galilee. And as they were walking Through an orchard so good, Where were cherries and berries As red as any blood. O then bespoke Mary, With words both meek and mild, ‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph, For that I am with child.’ ‘Go to the tree then, Mary, And it shall bow to thee; And you shall gather cherries By one, by two, by three.’ Then bowed down the highest tree Unto our Lady's hand; ‘See,’ Mary cried, ‘See Joseph, I have cherries at command.’ ‘O eat your cherries, Mary O eat your cherries now; O eat your cherries, Mary, That grow upon the bough.’ Then Mary plucked a cherry, As red as any blood; Then Mary went she homewards All with her heavy load.
In this carol, Joseph seems to know that the tree is ready to bow down to Mary. He encourages her to go to the tree. In the penultimate stanza, Joseph rejoices with Mary, if the lines "O eat your cherries, Mary" can be considered rejoicing. Maybe it's just some encouragement? This is odd. Perhaps Mary is skeptical about the tree's intentions. Anyway, Joseph comes off as a supportive husband in this one.
In the version that is more familiar to us now, however, the carol is rather dramatically reworded. There is an additional stanza, and Joseph doesn't come off well at all. This "new" version is published in Advent for Choirs from Oxford and is published separately. It was in the King's College Choir's hands as early as 1996.
"New" version
Joseph was an old man and an old man was he, When he wedded Mary, in the land of Galilee. Joseph and Mary walked through an orchard good, Where was cherries and berries, so red as any blood. O then bespoke Mary, so meek and oh, so mild: ‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph, for I am with child.’ O then bespoke Joseph, with words most unkind: ‘Let him pluck thee a cherry that brought thee with child.’ O then bespoke the baby, within his mother’s womb: ‘Bow down then the tallest tree, for my mother to have some.’ Then bowed down the highest tree unto his mother’s hand; Then she cried, ‘See, Joseph I have cherries at command.’ O then bespoke Joseph: ‘I have done Mary wrong; But cheer up, my dearest, and be ye not cast down.’ Then Mary plucked a cherry, as red as any blood; Then Mary went she homewards all with her heavy load.
Things take a severe turn in that fourth stanza. In this "new" version, he is not exactly a supportive husband.
In the "old" version, Joseph was happy to tell Mary how to get the cherries. In fact, he was privy to the knowledge that the cherry tree was willing to bow down. Here, however, he seems to have some unresolved issues with Mary's pregnancy.
Furthermore, the in utero Christ gets a voice in this carol, which is perhaps unique in the carol repertoire(?).
But the inherent conflict in this carol gives the narrative more texture. From within the womb, Christ instructs the "tallest tree" to bow down.
The connection we are meant to draw, I think, is that "him…that brought thee with child" is depicted here with nature itself operating at Mary's command.
In the "old" version you could describe Joseph as lazy, at worst. In the "new" version Joseph is mean, but his momentary cruelty allows for Mary's command of nature to stand more clearly as a symbol.
What I find utterly awkward in this "new" version, is the egg-on-his-face Joseph of the penultimate stanza.
O then bespoke Joseph: ‘I have done Mary wrong; But cheer up, my dearest, and be ye not cast down.’
There is a brief apology in there, which is nice. It's addressed to us, the audience, but I wish we could just sit Joseph down and be like, "look, dude, apologize to your wife directly."
It would be the catharsis this carol needs.
The feeling of things being unresolved persists for me, not only with Joseph's weak, saccharine apology but also with the way Cleobury masterfully arranges the last line of this carol: "all with her heavy load."
Not only is she bearing the infant Christ, but she's burdened with this mean "old man" as her husband.
The heaviness of the organ part, especially as performed in King's College, Cambridge, is marvelously evocative of these burdens. (You really need to be listening on proper speakers/headphones, or with a subwoofer, to get the full effect.)
"New" version
Labels: Advent, Christmas, Cleobury, St. Joseph, the Blessed Virgin Mary
The idea of Lessons and Carols really has its genesis with Christmas services at the end of the 19th century. Then in the early 20th century Eric Milner-White started the very famous Christmas service at King's College, Cambridge. And this annual service, more than any other, is what many people think of when they hear "Lessons and Carols".
But there's more to its origin than meets the eye.
Milner-White had become convinced "that the Church of England needed more imaginative worship", but I think it helps to remember the context in which he was working. At the centuries-old choral foundation of King's there was no lack of opportunity for worship. There was Choral Matins (Morning Prayer), Holy Communion, and Choral Evensong.
And Milner-White also sought "more imaginative worship" through new music. He used a friendly wager to entice Herbert Howells to write the Collegium Regale Morning Canticles (Te Deum & Jubilate). And if these pieces aren't "more imaginative" I don't know what qualifies.
But I think Milner-White saw something else that a few others (like Bishop Benson in Truro) did. The specific possibilities for liturgy suggested by the genre of music specific to the Advent-Christmas season.
Here the music (carols) must have suggested its own liturgy. Rather than music being the "hand-maid" of the liturgy, a dubious phrase one often hears in regard to Church Music, Milner-White saw it as the other way around. Here was a cleric who was perceptive enough to realize that the established liturgical forms didn't allow for this music speak well or speak fully.
At Matins or Evensong maybe you could do a carol or two, but carols are so short. You would have to do a number of them for them to really add up to something substantial. And in this case they would needed their own service. So Milner-White designed it.
Not just two or three lessons, but more. No need for a psalm or canticles. No need for much of anything, really, except hymns, lessons, and carols.
After inaugurating the Christmas Lessons and Carols service in 1918, Milner-White added an Advent Carol Service to King's liturgical life in 1934.
Most Advent Carol Services take place in the evening and are therefore often substitutes for Choral Evensong. But the traditional canticles at Evensong (the Magnificat and Nunc dimittis) also have value in a Carol Service.
One place to connect Evensong to Lessons and Carols is St. John's College, Cambridge, just a short boatride away from King's. St. John's began a tradition of an Advent Carol Service a couple decades after King's.
The first Advent Carol Service was held on 2 December 1956. From the outset it had been decided to make this an 'admission by ticket only' event, and close on 1100 people attended what has now become an annual service. Since 1981 it has been broadcast, and is now relayed to many radio stations in the United States and Canada, as well as to other countries throughout the world.Guest, George. (1998) A Guest at Cambridge. Brewster, Mass.: Paraclete Press. p. 28.
At the traditional carol services at St. John's the two Evensong canticles take pride of place toward the end: the Magnificat at the Advent Carol Service; the Nunc dimittis at the Epiphany Carol Service. There's a wonderful logic to this. (There is no Christmas Carol Service at St. John's because 1) the college is not in session 2) there's a pretty famous one just down the road.)
St. John's has served as an inspiration for St. Peter's, St. Louis in the past: the installation of a Mander organ at St. Peter's was inspired by the very successful Mander installation in that college chapel.
And the Advent Carol Service from St. John's is not exactly a well-kept secret. It has been broadcast annually on the BBC since the 1980s. It's order has been printed in at least one past issue of The Episcopal Musicians Handbook. And another order of service from St. John's has been used at St. Peter's in the past.
Here's an explanatory note from the former Dean of St. John's.
"Introduction to the Advent Carol Service"
by The Rev. Andrew MacIntosh, Dean of St. John's College
In the past quarter of the century, the colleges of Cambridge, and St. John's in particular, have developed special forms of service to mark the beginning of Advent; and these are widely called Advent Carol Services. Since Christmas falls in University vacation, there was a natural desire to anticipate Christmas by singing carols. At the same time, the instinct for good liturgy meant that we wanted to keep the specifically Advent themes of solemn preparation for the coming of Christ. In St. John's College, since 1956, these two elements have been combined to effect a successful liturgical experiment. This success derives, perhaps, from the tension between the two elements. Thus the form of the service is essentially linked to Advent. The Collects for the four Sundays in Advent suggest the main themes which are explored and illuminated in the scriptural lessons. The plainsong settings of the Advent Prose and "O" Antiphons, dating from the eighth century, express most poignantly in words from the prophesies of Isaiah man's deep yearning for salvation and redemption. The carols, in a joyful and earthy way, look forward to the mode of that redemption in the circumstances of the incarnation and the person of Jesus. Finally, the service reaches its climax in the words of the Christmas collect and in the singing of "Adeste Fideles.""
The service is rich. You can view this year's service booklet for yourself. You can also listen to this year's service for the next 26 days after this article's publication.
There's so much to love about this liturgy beyond the lessons and the music: the sentences; the versicles and responses at the head of each section (my favorite being "Prepare ye the way of the Lord / Make his paths straight."); the collects.
The service is in four sections:
- The Message of Advent
- The Word of God (which includes the wonderful passage from Luke of Jesus reading from Isaiah in the synagogue)
- The Prophetic Call (which features a hefty dose of John the Baptist)
- The Christ-Bearer (including Mary and her Magnificat)
But one thing that I chose not to incorporate at St. Peter's for our service is the seven O Antiphons. Don't get me wrong; I love the O Antiphons. But their inclusion in this already rich service seems like an "everything but the kitchen sink approach". (Besides, St. Peter's has already offered a simple service focusing on the O Antiphons this year).
The collects in the service provide a nice bridge to the historic collects found in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer.
The collect for section two, the Word of God, is the collect for the Second Sunday in Advent (note that in the 1662 book the preposition is different than it is in the 1979 book). This prayer finds a place in the 1979 book as the collect for Proper 28 (the Sunday closest to November 16).
Blessed Lord, who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that, by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The collect for section three, which does not appear in the 1979 book at all, is specific to John the Baptist.
O Lord Jesu Christ, who at thy first coming didst send thy messenger to prepare thy way before thee: Grant that the ministers and stewards of thy mysteries may likewise so prepare and make ready thy way, by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, that at thy second coming to judge the world we may be found an acceptable people in thy sight, who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.
The collect for section four, at least in the present service, is not the collect for the Fourth Sunday in Advent, but can be traced to an Anglican Altar Services (1941) collect for the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary (August 15). Using a Marian collect here is congruent with the focus on Mary in the Gospel lessons for the Fourth Sunday of Advent in the Revised Common Lectionary.
Almighty and everlasting God, who didst stoop to raise our fallen race by the child-bearing of blessed Mary: Grant that we, who have seen thy glory manifested in our manhood [St. John's substitutes "flesh"], and thy love perfected in our weakness, may daily be renewed in thine image, and conformed to the likeness of thy Son; who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen.
Finally, a note about the music itself. It should be noted while the informal name of this service is the "Advent Carol Service", the title page actually reads "A Service for Advent with Carols". I believe that this name is deliberately chosen to not limit the music solely to "carols" but to allow for all kinds of liturgical music (including hymns and canticles, which were part of the original design).
As with the Christmas Lessons and Carols service at King's College, the Advent service at St. John's includes a heavy dose of new music, especially new music written for carol texts.
But with the doors thrown open to all types of music (assuming at least two carols, to stay true to the plural in the service's title) we see the full flowering of Lessons and Carols as one of the great liturgies of the Anglican church.
What started as music begetting it's own liturgy has now come full circle. This elegant liturgy is now inspiring new commissions and compositions.
I find Lessons and Carols so fascinating because the realm of creative possibilities within its fixed structure is so immense.
This is Church Music at it's finest: not as a hand-maid of the liturgy, but a full partner with it.
Of course there are always other Advent Carol Services to consider, too!
- New College, Oxford added 7 December 2016
- St. Thomas, New York
- Trinity College, Cambridge
Labels: Advent, Andrew MacIntosh, BCP, church music, Collect, Eric Milner-White, Guest, Howells, King's College (Cambridge), Lessons and Carols, St John's (Cambridge), St Peter's (St Louis), the Blessed Virgin Mary
I attended a workshop this past weekend led by Dean Ian Markham of Virginia Theological Seminary. Dean Markham had us plot out on a graph the characteristics of our own identity within our own denominational identity. The three axes of this graph were Roman Catholic, evangelical/reformed, and modernist/humanist.
We began the exercise by plotting where we came from. And we explored our positions on authority (apostolic succession), sacraments, prayer to the saints, and whether other religious adherents are saved (and if they are, whether Jesus Christ was involved).
Personally, I started the exercise fully over in the evangelical corner. I was raised in the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA). I was confirmed in the Episcopal Church on May 1, 2004. And once we started to talk about our beliefs now, as Anglicans, I expected to boldly step out of that quadrant for good.
As we talked about authority I took a giant leap over to the Roman Catholic side of the room. I returned there (and found myself surrounded by my clergy peers) when we spoke about the sacraments.
I'll save the other faiths question for another day. I'm not sure I'm at peace with the Roman Catholic view that Christ saves those in other faiths. I found myself more on the modernist side of that question.
But what was a surprise to me is that when it came to prayer I was an evangelical.
After saying this it may come as a real surprise when I tell you that I've started saying the Angelus (Hail Mary) as part of my daily prayer -- but I almost consider it experimental. But sure enough, there I am asking the Blessed Virgin Mary to pray for me "now and at the hour of [my] death". I'm not convinced of the efficacy of this prayer, but I recognize it as part of the church's heritage. And I want to experience it as a part of my praying the Daily Office with so many others.
But I don't think about asking anything of Mary outside of praying the Angelus.
Nor do I think about praying to any other saints as a matter of course.
And I do believe that in prayer we have direct access to God through Jesus Christ. This, as I understand it, is a classic evangelical/reformed understanding of prayer.
But in the Sanctus, that moment of the Eucharistic liturgy that I and other church musicians am so keen of bringing up in theological conversations, we join in angels in song. We join with them in prayer. The preface makes this clear:
Therefore with Angels and Archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify thy glorious Name; evermore praising thee, and singing,
One version of this preface in the Eucharistic prayer even goes so far as to say "countless throngs of angels".
Who are these angels? Are they saints too? What does it mean to pray with them? Is that the same as praying "through" them or asking them to pray for us?
Because if I have little reason to pray to the saints, I have even less to pray to angels. And who can forget the terrible "angel fad" of the 1990s when you couldn't turn around without seeing kitschy angel stuff.
Who are the angels anyway? They're messengers (the Greek root tells us). They bring messages from God.
That prayer I mentioned above, the Angelus uses the words of the Archangel Gabriel when he appeared to Mary at the Annunciation.
But – I wonder – did he carry Mary's message back to God? "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." (Luke 1:38).
And we find the heritage of saints and angels not so much in our modern prayer book, but embedded in the church's song. I wonder if I have been avoiding them at my peril.
If Mary is the greatest saint, she is not afforded the greatest angel: Michael. She was visited instead by Gabriel. He is "mighty" and the "herald of heaven".
Michael is the "greatest angel". He is the "peacemaker blessed".
Raphael "strengthens soul and body".
A Sequence for St. Michael, words by Alcuin (735-804) and translated by Helen Jane Waddell (1889-1965) further illuminate these figures.
Hear us, Michael, greatest Angel,
Come down a little from thy high seat,
To bring us the strength of God, and the lightning of His mercy.And do thou, Gabriel, lay low our foes,
And thou, Raphael, heal our sick,
Purge our disease, ease our pain,
And give us to share in the joys of the blessed.
The way Herbert Howells sets the word "Purge", might just be the most poignant note (a D-flat) in all of sacred music.
His nine-year-old son Michael was suddenly stricken with polio one summer and died in a matter of days. Not even a quick trip to London and an iron lung could save him.
How fully Howells must have known this deep, heart-throbbing imperative to God: "purge".
And in times when there is no hope, no cure, we must alter the cry to "ease our pain". And Howells echoes the "purge" cry here, but it's less emphatic, less urgent. It's disappointed, but not without hope. There is always hope. Howells knew this too, as in his hymn MICHAEL "All my hope on God is founded".
The cry of the church is that of human existence. We as the church continue pray for the sick, the bereaved, and the dead.
I'm not sure how it all gets sorted out, but Howells has me thinking that the Angels hear our prayers too.
Labels: Alcuin, angels, Angelus, evangelicals, Howells, Roman Catholicism, saints, St. Michael, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Virginia Theological Seminary
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