There’s no hard and fast holiday rule that says “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” must be followed by “Jingle Bells.” But for whatever reason, last year’s Christmas carol algorithm — likely at the subconscious prodding of my two girls — kept feeding us these two songs back-to-back for the duration of the holiday season.
Cute on Christmas car rides; jarring in the middle of Mass at a monastery.
The choir of religious sisters had just finished a stunning rendition for the hymn after communion. Voices raised in worship sang, “Glory to the newborn king.” And then the small, sacred space fell into contemplative silence.
Peaceful. Prayerful. And then my four-year-old: “Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse — ”
That’s when I tackled her to the ground. But the damage was done: Secret smiles and suppressed laughter cracked the sounds of silence. And that, of course, only encouraged my daughter.
“Jingle bells!”
My daughter found the whole ordeal hilarious, of course. It’s now a story we tell with some frequency. And we’ve all learned an important lesson: We no longer interject random holiday tunes into the liturgy without express instructions from the cantor.
But what I come back to when I revisit this moment is a simple truth: My daughter believed “Jingle Bells” followed “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” At a gut level, she followed the music. She acted on these melodic instincts with seamless and delightful grace. Why?
Music is an important part of this season of waiting. We all have our favorite Christmas carols. (And some of us begin listening to them well before Thanksgiving!) But why are they favorites? What do they awaken in us? What meaning do they hold — or unlock? And how might they usher us into the joy of Christmas?
There’s a simple spiritual invitation I’d invite us to consider during this season: Pay attention to what these holiday songs stir in you. Though my daughter did begin spouting off lyrics to a random song in the middle of Mass, there was a story behind the action. She wasn’t misbehaving; she was, in her own way, reflecting back on a song that held seasonal significance for her. She allowed herself to be moved by what she felt.
And so, this Advent season, I invite you to use music and song to reflect on your own Advent waiting. Perhaps don’t start belting out lyrics during moments of communal prayer but do allow songs — both secular and sacred — to stir in you something of God’s Spirit at work.
What do I mean? Well, rather than give you more of my hot takes, we’ve assembled a team of writers to help break open this theme. Each day of Advent, we’re offering a different reflection that delves into songs that hold some specific meaning to our writers. We’re calling this series “Waiting and Wassailing,” and I invite you to sign up for it here.
