The Top 5 Underrated Advent Hymns

I get it; if any year could be said to "need a little Christmas," it's 2020.  I've even cheated and streamed a few Christmas playlists myself.  However, if we break out the Christmas albums right after Thanksgiving, we are missing out on the most beautiful music of the whole year: Advent music.  People (and music streaming algorithms) rarely distinguish between the three, but there is a big difference between music for Advent, Christmas, and the Epiphany.

My favorite Advent hymns make exquisite use of the minor key and tend to sound rather Medieval. This gives them greater gravitas than the average Christmas carol—a sadder and wiser beauty.  Everyone knows "O Come, O Come Emanuel" and Schubert’s "Ave Maria." and deservedly so. However, there are literally hundreds of Advent songs; (we’ve had two thousand years of writing them after all).  Below are my top 5 underrated Advent Hymns

#5 Creator of the Stars of Night

Unknown, 7th Century.  Translated by John M. Neale

Though very solid overall, this song makes the list because of a single line: "Thou grieving that the ancient curse / should doom to death a universe[...]"  If that isn't an epic line, I don't know what is.  Tolkien himself could take notes.  

#4    Gabriel's Message

Basque Folk Carol, Translated by Sabine Baring-Goud

Okay, I might be a little bit biased towards this one because I’ve sung it as a solo for my church Christmas pageant two years in a row, but I love this song. The marching rhythm elevates the private Annunciation of Gabriel to Mary, coloring it as the epic center-point of human history that it actually is.  At the same time, the humility and glory of both Gabriel and Mary are emphasized by the lyrics.  Gabriel's wings are of “drifted snow” but his eyes are “of flame.” Mary is a “lowly maiden” but also “most highly favored lady.” It is a beautiful encapsulation of the paradox of salvation history: that the Christ is both gentle lover and fierce king (or perhaps, more biblically, fierce lover and gentle king).

#3     The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns

by John Brownlie (1907)

Okay, I full admit that I like this song not because of the theology—though that is very solid—but because it reminds me of the Tolkien poem “The King Beneath the Mountain” I have no evidence to support this, but I suspect that Tolkien was inspired by “The King Shall Come.” Really the driving hope behind both songs is beautiful, and I encourage you to check them out above and below.

#2 People Look East

by Eleanor Farjeon (1928)

It's debatable that this one is actually an Advent song.  The argument could be made for it being a Christmas song too.  It's also a bit more modern-sounding than the others on the list.  With beautiful imagery comparing God to a Guest, a Rose, a Bird , a Star, and finally a Lord.  It reminds us to prepare our hearts and home. The very earthy imagery reminds us that the proper enjoyment of created things is in using them to glorify our divine betrothal.  I believe it is the perfect song for the cusp between Advent and Christmas.  

#1     Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent

French folk melody based on ancient Greek chant.  English poem by Gerard Moultrie

This one is a hard sell to a modern audience. In all the bountiful mercy of a loving God who makes himself small for us, we sometimes forget that he is also the infinite, omniscient, omnipresent capital T TRUTH, capital L LOVE, capital B BEAUTY. This hymn rips away the temple veil and reveals the incarnation for what it is: our last, best chance. Not because God is angry or vengeful, but because HE IS, and anything less than HIM will eventually kill us.

The Annunciation by Henry Ossawa Tanner

I like Advent hymns that encompass C.S. Lewis's famous line about Aslan "'Course he isn't safe, but he is good.  He's the King, I tell you."  For all the lesser loves I hesitate to submit to His Kingship, I have reason to tremble.  For the mercy of the ability to do better today, I have reason to shout for joy.  Advent encompasses the full range of the Christian experience: hope and fear, mercy and justice, repentance and reconciliation. We remember Christ's terrible/joyful arrival at the end of time, but also anticipate the humble mercy of his arrival as a baby to die for our sins.  It really is a perfectly beautiful season.  So don't miss out by rushing right to Christmas.  Enjoy the anticipation.  Enjoy the music.  Enjoy Advent.

 It's Not Halloween Today

A literary experiment by Joseph Salvatore Knipper

by Heather Gleason

I met the Headless Horseman

on a nameless road in Jersey

at dusk on November 3rd.

I said I much admired his work

but he was not to be outdone in flattery

dealing out compliments like candy

with a wink of his fiery eye

He asked if I had news of our confrères.

 “But, promise, no gossip,” said he

then closed his orange lips around his pipe

and smiled.

I told him that Spring-Heeled Jack's arthritis

was getting to him

so he only worked Sunday afternoons,

unless his chiropractor was available.

Scylla and Charybdis were retired,

but Medusa's agent had booked her a film

(the type that wins awards at festivals,

but no one watches).

The Count thought the election might go his way this year,

but Eastern European politics were notoriously fickle;

one might say there was a lot at stake.

Baba Yaga was now a grandmother—

(well, a hell-hound grandmother at least

but I suspect Marinka may have child in the oven.)

And dear Victor had switched to botany,

if you considered frogs to be vegetables.

Still, he was much less insufferable,

and occasionally remembered birthdays.

“But what of you?” I asked.

“How was your year?

Who was your best scare?"

But he just chuckled and shook his head,

"Have some mercy!" said he,
"I'm on vacation."

He produced a flask,

and we toasted repentant sinners—

watching the shadows tangle the road

as the sun slid sleepily into bed.

“Where will you winter?” asked I?

“Wherever men scared of the wrong things,” he replied.

Then, emptying his pipe,

he swung back upon his horse

and rode off into the brown night.

A Night in the Lonesome October by Roger Zelazny (Rising's Rapid Reviews)

detail of the original cover by James Warhola

Beware!  If you read A Night in the Lonesome October once, you shall be forced to read it every October for the rest of your natural lives!  For whilst you read this dark tome, it also reads you!  Mwahahahahaha!  (cue thunder)

Ahem.  Sorry, not certain what got into me just then.  Actually, while it has it's serious moments, A Night in the Lonesome October is quite a lighthearted and optimistic read, especially for a Victorian Horror/Lovecraft Mythos mashup.  

Written by Roger Zelazny (his last novel) and illustrated by Gahan Wilson, A Night in the Lonesome October tells a delightful Halloween tale.  Whenever the full-moon falls on All Hallows Eve (such as in 2020...ooooooOOOOOOO...spooky), a gate can be opened to allow the Elder Gods (of Lovecraftian fame) back into our world to rule once more.  Certain individuals and their animal companions then gather to play 'The Game.”  They spend the month of October dwelling about the location of the portal, and collecting grisly ingredient to either stop the Elder Gods or welcome them.  Every year so far the “Closers”—those opposing the return of the Elder Gods—have won.  In the late 19th century, the portal is set to open somewhere in a sleepy suburb of London.  The area has become home of late to some strange characters, including an Eastern European nobleman only seen at night, a German doctor performing some rather unconventional anatomy experiments, and an American named Larry who is quite conscious of the phases of the moon. Pursuing them all is “The Great Detective” whose brilliant mind is determined to discover the truth.

“Okay” you say, “so it's a shared universe crossover.  What's the big deal?  I see that every day.” In order to properly explain the appeal of this novel, I need to spoil it's main conceit: the novel is told from the point of view of Jack the Ripper's dog.

by Gahan Wilson

This is the novel's greatest appeal.  Snuff—as a dog-is unfailingly decent, loyal, and hopeful.  Much like his master (never let it be said Jack the Ripper is not polished, whatever his flaws), he remains gentlemanly to friend and foe alike.  Most notably, he makes good friends with the cat Greymalk (despite her being both a Cat and an “Opener”) and much of the story revolves around their devotion to each other in spite of their competing interests.  

Snuff is unlike most of Zelazney's heroes in that, despite a long and violent life, he remains unjaded.  He believes it will come out alright in the end, and he is quite munificent to all the other animal companions (with one understandable exception).  He knows that the Openers are not universally malicious in their motivations, which the Closers are not always virtuous.  For instance, Greymalk wants to welcome the Elder Gods to prevent others living the life of a stray cat, while the Count—a Closer—just likes being at the top of the food chain.  The novel is ambiguous about whether Jack's killings are a necessary evil he willingly performs as part of the ritual, or if the crimes we blame on “Jack the Ripper” were actually committed by others and placed at Jack's feet by history.  Either way though, both Snuff and Jack know that bringing back the Elder Gods will not be an improvement for most.

The novel is a mishmash of different genres.  It is a penny dreadful in the parade of its rouges gallery.  It is a mystery in that no one knows who is committing all the murders).  It is a commentary on Lovecraft (especially one chapter involving a journey to the Dreamlands).  It is a court intrigue as loyalties shift between the animals and humans playing the game.  And, finally, it is a 280-page lead-up to a very funny (for some) punch line.  

The novel's chapters are titled by day (October 1st, October 2nd etc).  Read this once, and I guarantee you it will become a yearly tradition, preferably cuddled under a quilt on a chilly autumn evening when the moon is full.

Halloween Revisited: A Caveat

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Last Halloween, I wrote a series of essays that remain my proudest intellectual accomplishment to date. Oh sure, they weren't perfect, but the concept was something that has been in my soul for a long time. In case you didn't read them or don't want to go back, the thesis was this: that our modern Halloween celebration stems from our desire for God. 

This is not a new concept. Everything we love really stems from a desire for God, so why should Halloween be any different? Finding God in the secular is an old Catholic intellectual practice. To steal a very imperfect metaphor (I think it's Tolkien but it might be Peter Kreeft), God is the unchanging white light. We are the prisms that reflect the Light's colors. All existence glorified God.

There is one troubling implication of this though: if everything that exists is inherently good, then everything evil is a version of something good that falls short of its intended purpose. The desire for God is present in Halloween, but it is filtered through lesser things. Why tell stories of immortal vampires when we will live immortally with God? Why tell ghost stories when we could commune with the saints? Why play pranks when we could a act for justice? Why settle for less? Isn't it dangerous to move to the side rather than aim directly for the goal?  After all, to sin in Hebrew literally translates as "to miss the mark."  

My answer is this: yes, it is dangerous, but this does not necessarily make it evil. All created things when loved improperly can tear us away from God and lead to our doom. Candy can lead to gluttony, or it can lead to moderate feasting. Halloween costumes can be designed to instill lust, or they can be designed to instill wonder. Ghost stories can lead to seances, or they can lead to praying for the souls in purgatory.  Demons costumes can tell the lie that demons aren't really malicious, or they can remind us that--with Christ on our side--demons are nothing to fear.

This is not to say there is some middle ground between heaven and hell.  There isn't.  But it is possible to glorify God through secular things (as long as those secular things are not in themselves against church teaching).  In fact, it is not only possible; it is necessary.  

I wrote the 7 Desires of Halloween in the hopes that I could pry this holiday away from the spiritualism (Note 1), necromancy, paganism, rebellion, and bacchanalia and claim it again for Christ. I do not wish to claim it for a puritanical, dry Christ who gives out apples to children dressed as saints.  I wish to claim this beautiful and dangerous holiday for a beautiful and dangerous God.  I love Halloween in all its shadowed vibrancy.  And ad majorem Dei gloriam, I shall continue to celebrate it.

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Note 1: Halloween does have one unique pitfall for hungry souls: spiritualism (Ouija boards, seances, witchcraft etc). However, I would argue that this is no more essential to Halloween than parents fighting over toys on Black Friday is inherent to Christmas.

Halloween is like a walk along the edge of a cliff. I feel confident in my ability to stand well back, and I have good hiking boots. Those inclined to dangle their toes over the edge, however, may wish to avoid the hike entirely. That being said, I do sometimes envy the powers of creatures of myth, rather than being satisfied with my own humanity. I do sometimes hear the serpent's cry in Eden “You will not die; you will be as gods.” I acknowledge this pride, and rebuke it. Hmmm, I might need a second essay on this topic.

Halloween Revisited: "The 7 Desires of Halloween" Prime

 The below is an old essay I wrote in 2016 or 2017, recently rediscovered and slightly edited.  It is an early draft of The 7 Desires of Halloween before I decided to break it up into a series of essays.  From the length and variety of topics, you can see why.  However, it has some wonderful turns of phrases I am loath to assign to the dustbin.  It also makes some points from the 7 Desires of Halloween in a different way.  Thus, I am reproducing it here for the patient and interested.  If you are not a superfan of my Halloween essays, feel free to skip this one.

What Halloween Means to Me

Introduction

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It was Friday, October 30th, 2015, and I walked into my day-job (that eternal cross) cheery for once.  I had scored a paying gig in the evenings playing the Lord of Purgatory in the New York Haunted Hayride, and was actually enjoying my life more than I had in a very long time.  (Other actors shall be familiar with that insidious malaise between jobs).

“Happy Halloween!” I chirped at the fellow admin covering the early shift.  “Doing anything fun with the kids this weekend?”

“We don't celebrate Halloween” she intoned with all the dry aghast of an Oxford don asked to watch reality television.  “We are Christians.”

Ah, I thought, one of those.  As a Christian myself, I found this highly offensive to both my good mood and a basic understanding of the liturgical calendar.  For a Catholic such as myself, Halloween is technically the Vigil of the Solemnity of All Saints (which I am fairly certain most reasonably curious people know.  All Hallows Eve...You've read the Wikipedia article....moving on).  In most liturgical calendars the next holy day begins with the setting of the sun, rather than the quantum ticking of an atomic clock.  (In the Catholic church, we round this to 4 pm, but that isn't the point.)  So saying that Christian shouldn't celebrate Halloween is patently absurd.  Right?

Technically yes, but I am actually more sympathetic to my colleagues point of view than I was a year ago.  Witnessing New York City being (which is already a perpetual Bacchanalia) impossibly turned up a notch on Halloween forces me to admit that there are aspects of Halloween which are certainly inadvisable if not impermissible for a Christian to partake in.  Anything attempting to summon spirits, from Ouija boards to seances is certainly perilous to anyone who wishes to remain unpossessed, but I think these are mostly the indiscretions of youth.  The modesty of dress is important at all times for men and women, but the irrational double-standard and unfairly higher expectations for the modesty of women in our culture requires that I leave this discussion for a separate article less I give way to sexism through oversimplification.  (Myself, I have considered soliciting on subways by threatening to strip unless paid not to.  I believe this would be a very lucrative secondary income stream, based on the pale, hairy egg shape my body has taken on over a decade of boredom inspired gluttony).  

I would also be remiss unless I mentioned the importance of this holiday to my neopagan friends  I know little about Samhain, but it, along with other cultures' harvest festivals, have supposedly contributed to many of our Halloween traditions.  However, I believe that extreme perspective that all Christian holidays are just thinly disguised pagan festivals to be ahistorical.  Many modern pagan traditions can be traced definitively no further back than the 1800s, and so we have a strange confusion where pagans borrow from Christians the traditions which may or may not have been borrowed from pagans.  That being said, cultures absorb, assimilate, and osmose constantly, so we can say that we owe our pagan friends gratitude for at least some of our traditions.  However, I would not advocate the celebration of Samhain, even were all the externals identical.

This article is not meant to be prescriptive, but rather descriptive of what the holiday means to me.  (I am not aiming to define this Holiday historically but personally). The Holiday  speaks to me in a way which cannot be attributed entirely to childhood nostalgia.  During Halloween, at least those moments not tainted by  a lustful gaze or accidental demonic summoning, I feel some great transcendental stirring.  I can only describe it as a hybrid sensation somewhere between the first time I saw The Fellowship of the Ring and the moments before I hit my light-cue on stage.  I refuse to believe this is some elaborate temptation of the Enemy.  The devil can, of course, create a great deal of mischief by altering something that is good just slightly.  As the Archangel Michael says (via the pen of CS Lewis in Out of the Silent Planet) “..a bent [human] can do more evil than a broken human”.  However, I believe there is something holy at the core of this holiday, and I intend to expound upon this.

Vigil

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Halloween is first of all a vigil, and like all vigils, it is about maintaining light in the darkness.  We get some dim glimpse of this in the catharsis of horror movies.  Though I would not recommend most modern horror as edifying, the fact remains that we derive great pleasure out of facing fear and surviving.  The thing we fear may not exist in reality, but our lizard brains can't recognize that, or no fear would exist.  We know we need to face what most frightens us and laugh at it.  The same principle holds for costumes.  Every year children (and adults including myself) take creatures of terror and turn them into caricatures.  The (admittedly sympathetic) murderer Frankenstein's monster becomes a  dull-witted giant.  The cow-cursing witch becomes a friendly green-skinned strega.  The damned soul Jack of the Lantern becomes a smiling face.  We also take what is ordinary, and make it horrifying.  The human face becomes a skull stripped of life and flesh.  The cheerful clown becomes and insane serial killer of disordered feature.  The boy next door becomes a flesh rending wolfhound.  This, I would argue, is also a way of taking back our power from our fears.  We mock the supernatural because it wants our soul, and we must show that it cannot have it  We enhance the horror of the natural because one day all of us will die, and we must practice this meeting.

I present the following anecdote:  When I was playing a monster in the Haunted Hayride, people would frequently try to frighten me as a way of taking back their power.  (It almost never worked  I was the immortal night, and the night does not startle.)

Where however, does this confidence come from?  It comes, I believe, from a knowledge and affirmation of our own immortality, which is a second significance of Halloween.  All of us, virtuous or sunk in vice, are immortal.  One day we shall either live in eternal bliss of eternal torment.  In the creatures of Halloween, we see this immortality, and this choice affirmed.  What are vampires but an earthly imagining of our heavenly bodies?  What are skeletons engaging in the dance of death but an acknowledgment that the dance goes on.  We can also see in all these creatures, twisted as they are, the fate of the damned soul.  That we have these monsters as a warning is also a source of joy.

Halloween and Christmas

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I always think of The Nightmare Before Christmas, first and foremost of a Halloween Movie. However, I don't find its blending with Christmas to be too garish because of Halloween's (in my admittedly unorthodox view) relationship to Christmas.  Halloween makes light of the spiritual battle through cathartic metaphor.  Christmas brings light to that same battle through the revelation of a real and present hope of victory.  Halloween snubs its nose at the enemy.  Christmas sets up the final, victorious blow.  Because of Christmas “The monsters all are missing. /The nightmares can't be found./...The empty space inside of [us] is filling up.”  Because of Christmas (and Easter), the war is already won.  Our job is merely to avoid treason during the mop-up battles.  Our job is to remember who we are in the dark of Halloween.  We are no more creatures of darkness than a soldier covered in the mud of the trenches is a swamp thing.  

A star is shining, and the darkness is retreating.  Forward, people of Halloween—forward towards Christmas.

An Aesthetic Argument Against Nudity in Amazon's Lord of the Rings Series

The Temple of Melkor by Elena Kukanova

So, if you haven't heard the news, Amazon's Lord of the Rings series released a casting call for extras comfortable with nudity.  Now, for all I know, this could be any type of nudity.  It could be a flashback of the creation of elves, tasteful and Edenic.  It could be a war scene where Mordor punishes a village by making them strip and run through the snow.  A dwarf could have his armor catch fire and...I don't know, need to take it off to in order to put it out or something.  There are many reasons nudity might appear in a show don't require pearl clutching.  Lots of reasons, that is, if I were an idiot.

When Time Magazine hailed George R.R. Martin as “An American Tolkien” I realized that mass media just doesn't get Lord of the Rings.  I became outright concerned by this lack of comprehension when Amazon bought the rights to produce a series set in the Second Age of Middle Earth.  When Christopher Tolkien died and Tom Shippey parted ways with the creative team, I knew we were in for some big trouble.  “Guys,” I said to some like-minded Catholics at the time, “I worry we are going to get a Galadriel sex-scene.”  With this casting call, I'm damn near certain of it.  In fact, I guarantee you that we are going to get a three-way with two hobbits and an orc, just so the reviewers have something to tweet about whenever that episode (I'm guessing season three) drops.  

Now, those of you who knew me in my twenties will say that I am glass house territory.  Those of you who know me now may say I am in danger of prudishness.  Consider both these dangers acknowledged, but also consider that I have an aesthetic argument as well as a moral one.  I believe that a titillating Lord of the Rings does disservice to what makes Lord of the Rings the Lord of the Rings.  It violates the work's inscape, as it were.

Observe: Michelangelo's Pietà is not placed on top of chocolate fountain during a cocktail party; it is in a church. Diamonds are not tossed into drawer; they are displayed on black velvet.  Mt. Fuji doesn't have a skyscraper at the top; it has a post office.  In a world where Beethoven's Ode to Joy is used to sell movie tickets, this is a difficult concept to understand.  But certain pictures require certain frames.

Similarly, Tolkien's Middle Earth is uniquely elevated; it deserves a certain framing.  While the stories of Middle Earth do contain adult subject matter (The Children of Húrin is hardly PG) they should not be presented in the same way as other popular fantasy adaptations.  In crafting the stories of Middle Earth, Tolkien approached heights achieved by no other author in history.  Homer might have written Epics that shaped civilization. Shakespeare might have had a (slightly) better facility with language.  The writings of the Church fathers might  draw us closer to God.  But NONE of them were able to do all three of these things in one brilliant, self-sacrificing, life-absorbing acting of creation as Tolkien did. As C.S. Lewis famously said of The Fellowship of the Ring, “here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron; here is a book that will break your heart.”  Displaying a king of Numenor's wedding night in all its sweating and grunting just doesn't fit into that.

This is not some puritanical rant that the human body is lowbrow, and thus doesn't deserve to be seen.  Rather it is an argument that Middle Earth is just different. A Middle Earth story should be sharp as a sword, clear as a star, and sad as a song. Not just entertaining  Not shocking. Definitely not arousing. It should inspire its audience to be more courageous, more wondering, and more reverent than they were before they watched it.  Middle Earth should inspire people to be explorers.  Middle Earth should inspire people to be heroes.  Middle Earth should make saints.

Of course, I am fighting, as Tolkien would put it, “the long defeat.” My resources are far inferior to Amazon's desire to make a profit.  But just because the battle is unwinnable does not mean its not worth fighting.

The Drowning of Numenor by John Howe

 Update 3/21/23: So, it appears that in season one at least, Amazon did not jump into the deep end of the GoT pool. Whether they respected Tolkien's work or not, I leave such a judgement to reviewers who actually bothered to watch the whole season.

Where Have All the Cobwebs Gone?

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“Epimethius, what happened?!” cry the people who read my blog (in my head it is a throng of thousands). “You were updating so regularly, but then you just disappeared!”

Well, dear readers, I obtained a paid writing gig. Two in fact. They say cobblers always have barefoot children; I'm afraid my barely-proofread passion project shall have to go barefoot for a while.

I'm not giving up on this blog, merely reducing the amount of time I spend on it. I never would have entered into professional writing if not for this blog. Plus, it's just darn good fun. (I cringe at the early blogger mistakes in The 7 Desires of Halloween, but it still remains one of my proudest accomplishments.)

Whenever I feel particularly inspired (or codependently in need of affirmation...always have trouble telling those two apart), I will continue to update. There is so much I still want to talk about: Brandon Sanderson analysis, reviewing The Chosen Season 1, giving my argument for why I think the electoral college is actually a good thing despite its most recent result, celebrating the hidden beauty of the Bronx, et. al.

That being said, there is the issue of the name.

When starting this blog, I couldn't decide between Cobwebs: A Blog of Untangling and Clearing Away or Pumpkins and Spaceships: A Blog of Favorite Things. I ended up splitting the difference: going with one for the title and one for the URL. I now believe this to have been a mistake, both for branding and SEO.

I was set on Cobwebs because I wanted this to be a blog about clearing out my own thoughts, as well as clearing out what I believe to be errors (both theological and aesthetic) in the cultural zeitgeist. However, while this blog has been the former, I find that I do not currently have the stomach for the latter. Instead, looking back on what I have wrote, Pumpkins and Spaceships: A Blog of Favorite Things would be a much more accurate title.

So I'd like to put it to a vote. Should this blog:

a) Continue to be named Cobwebs: A Blog of Untangling and Clearing Away?
b) Be changed too Pumpkins and Spaceships: A Blog of Favorite Things?

Please note the URL for cobwebs is not available, so either way, the URL stays.  Please put your answer in the comments below or answer the Facebook poll. Thanks for reading.

---Epimethius

PS: The other reason I liked Cobwebs is that I could privately decide the blog was under the patronage of Mary, Untier of Knots. However, I can do that regardless of the name. This blog is under the patronage of Mary, Uniter of Knots. May she guide me in writing only what pleases her Son.

Mary, Untier of Knots by Johann Georg Melchior