I often find my writing inspired by music or faith — sometimes both. By dint of my role here at RedState, I typically write on news-y/political topics these days. But every so often, a melody tickles a memory or coaxes a thought to the surface of my brain, and it becomes something I not only want to write about but simply must.
My family went to church every Sunday as I was growing up. It was a fairly traditional church — bell tower, stained glass windows, wooden pews, and traditional hymns in a traditional hymnal (with a few "contemporary" songs included in the separate "Hymns for Now" booklet).
It's been 35 years since I regularly attended that church — the one I attend these days includes a more modern (and boisterous) approach to music, though some of the classics occasionally do make an appearance — but the lyrics and melodies of the old standbys come right back, just like the classic rock and pop songs of my youth. (Funny how the mind/memory works, isn't it?)
Most of the time when I hear an old hymn, I find it comforting — like a warm, familiar blanket settling around the shoulders. I sing along without thinking much of it. Though now that I say that, I realize that's perhaps not a great thing. We probably shouldn't be worshipping on auto-pilot. But it's rare that I give much consideration to the lyrics or the meaning or stories behind them.
As regular readers know, I watch a lot of Hallmark — like...a lot — particularly during the Christmas season. One of the commercials they've been airing frequently is about the "Hallow" app. Billed as "The #1 Catholic Meditation, Prayer & Sleep App," Hallow's Christmas ad campaign is an invitation for all to "Pray every day this Advent." I'm not Catholic, but I was intrigued enough by Jonathan Roumie, who many may recognize as the actor who plays Jesus in "The Chosen," inviting me to participate in this endeavor that I decided to check it out.
I downloaded the app and began listening along to the daily reflections. Confession (no pun intended): After the first two days, I missed a couple of days, so I decided to play catch-up as I drove to and from my sister's house for a family birthday brunch on Sunday. I made it to Day 6 on the return trip. Here was that day's set-up:
Today, we'll reflect with the ancient Advent hymn, "O Come, O Come, Emmmanuel," performed by the Benedictines of Mary. In this song, we ask God to come into our hearts, just like we have been doing all week.
Oh, sure — I know that one!
After a brief introduction, the beautiful, haunting, monastic melody began to play. And even as I relaxed into its familiarity, I was struck by the second line, suddenly seeing it through a darker, sadder lens than I ever had before.
O come, o come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel...
The original tune speaks to Israel's time in exile and longing for the coming Messiah. But how could I hear those words and not think of the hostages, those still held captive by Hamas in Gaza, now 65 days since they were taken? Some, thankfully, have been returned; some, we know, will never return.
But what of the roughly 137 who remain? What will it take to bring them home? What will their ransom be?
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory o'er the grave.
As Christians celebrate Advent, Jews are celebrating Hanukkah — the fifth night of it as I write this. It looks and feels different this year than it has in years past — heavier, deeper, sadder, but not without hope or resolve.
The Israel Defense Forces put out a special Hanukkah video on Monday.
The IDF has a message for Jewish people celebrating Hannukah around the world:
— Israel Defense Forces (@IDF) December 12, 2023
Now, it’s our turn. pic.twitter.com/mHTzlScxH4
Happy Hanukkah to the Jewish people celebrating around the world. We light the Hanukkah candles at a dark time in the story of our people, a time of mourning, a time of pain, a timely reminder of what we're fighting for.
But the story of Hanukkah should serve as a reminder that our hope will prevail over despair. Our light will dispel the darkness, our love of life will triumph over the forces of evil that seek our destruction.
The story of Hanukkah is a story of survival. When faced with destruction, the Maccabees fought. They sacrificed their lives so that we could survive. Now it's our turn.
From the depths of darkness on October 7, we have risen, stronger and more united. A nation small in size, but mighty in spirit. Our hostages are being held in Hamas captivity. The IDF is fighting for their freedom. Israel is under attack in the north and in the south. We are fighting for our survival.
Israel is at war, one that Jews around the world are feeling too. And together, we will fight for our future. A future where there will once again be Hanukkah candles in the windows across Israel, in K'far Aza, Nir Oz, and Be'eri, where there will once again be no need for context when there are calls for genocide against Jewish students in universities.
Where there was horror, there will be hope. Where there was death, there will be life. Where there is darkness, there will be light. A bit of light dispels much darkness.
And our people have a whole lot of light.
Chag Hanukkah Samea'ch. Happy Hanukkah.
O come, o come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel...
