https://theaquilareport.com/hoping-through-the-darkness-before-dawn-o-come-o-come-emmanuel/
The nineteenth-century British hymn scholar John Mason Neale, whom hymnologist Albert Bailey calls “the prince of translators,” found a particular fascination with old Greek and Latin texts from the earliest days of the Church. In 1851 he translated the versification of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” into English. It soon became attached to a fitting thirteenth-century chant melody and has remained a staple of Advent observances ever since.
How is it that one of the oldest and best-known Christmas carols asks for the Messiah to come, when in actuality he has already done so?
The answer lies in the fact that “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” is, strictly speaking, not a Christmas carol but an Advent hymn. Advent, the roughly four-week period leading up to Christmas Day, is traditionally a time of remembering, of waiting—and of hope.
To understand “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” place yourself in the position of a faithful follower of Yahweh in the centuries after Malachi. God has threatened a curse to those who reject his word (Mal 4:6), but has also promised to send Elijah (Mal 4:5) in the days before the sun of righteousness arises with healing in its wings (Mal 4:2). All throughout Scripture, God has spoken of his coming one by a poetic array of names: Emmanuel—God with us (Isa 7:14). The Rod of Jesse (Isa 11:1). The Dayspring from on high (Lk 1:78). The Key of David (Isa 22:22). The hearts of the faithful yearn for the fulfillment of God’s word, and in pondering his promises, they cry out, “O come, O come, Emmanuel!”
This carol originated with a series of Latin liturgical texts used in the week leading up to Christmas. Each of the seven antiphons, or short chants, addresses Jesus by an Old Testament title, and begins with the word “O,” lending these chants the name “O antiphons.” Though possibly in existence as early as the sixth century, they were in common use by the ninth century. By the twelfth century, they had been converted into poetic form, and were published by 1710.
The nineteenth-century British hymn scholar John Mason Neale, whom hymnologist Albert Bailey calls “the prince of translators,” found a particular fascination with old Greek and Latin texts from the earliest days of the Church. In 1851 he translated the versification of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” into English. It soon became attached to a fitting thirteenth-century chant melody and has remained a staple of Advent observances ever since.
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Hey Leaders: Let’s Do Hard (Christian) Things
The evangelical church over the next thirty years is going to pay the price for paying too much attention to the wrong kind of leadership toughness. It already is. Just read the books that are dealing with the outflow of poor leadership. And it seems to me that at a sophisticated level, there are often far better secular thinkers in this space than Christian thinkers, Steve Magness being one of them.
Do Hard Things
I love the new book by high performance coach Steve Magness, Do Hard Things: Why We Get Resilience Wrong and the Surprising Science of Real Toughness.
I’ve followed Steve’s career as a high performance coach since he was the whistle-blower at the Nike Oregon Project, in which marathon legend Alberto Salazar sailed close to the edge (and probably over it), seeking that little bit extra from his runners. The decision by Magness cost him in the short term.
But not in the long term. He came out of that debacle smelling of roses. Salazar? Well there was a different whiff about him. Still is. Magness is not simply a sports high performance coach: His skills are employed by the likes of NASA in order to get the best out of people. His insight into what makes humans tick is amazing. He kinda has a PhD in “people”. And as you can see from his picture he’s not the gym junkie Adonis
I initially bought the book because, as a runner, I wanted to see if I could break a few barriers, particularly mental barriers, in my own running regime. I know that much of my success—or otherwise—resides in that under-utilised muscle—my brain! So much of what we achieve or don’t achieve is dictated by how we feel mentally at the time about the challenge we are facing.
What sets Magness apart from other coaching/performance consultants is his exceptionally sophisticated and mature approach to psychology, family of origin issues, societal factors and the like when it comes to performance. And in a critical way Magness turns much of what we think about resilience on his head, doing so by simply looking at the stats and outcomes of resilience training methods.
The famed sociological author and podcaster, Malcolm Gladwell (also a solid runner who is happy for anyone to follow him on Strava) had this to say:
Steve Magness beautifully and persuasively reimagines our understanding of toughness. This is a must-read for parents and coaches and anyone else looking to prepare for life’s biggest challenges.
Meanwhile New York Times bestselling author, Cal Newport, of Deep Work fame, observed:
It delivers a critical message for our current age of posing and performance: real toughness is not about callous bravado, but instead about the ability to navigate difficulty with grace and an unwavering focus on what matters.
Fake Toughness
Magness has a lot to say about what real toughness is, but the first thing he does—and it’s critical because it’s so pervasive not just in the sports world, but the world in general, is to break down fake toughness. So he observes:
Fake toughness is easy to identify…It’s the idea that toughness is about fighting and ass-kicking. It’s the guy picking a fight at your local gym. The anonymous poster acting like a hard-ass on message boards. The bully at school. The executive who masks his insecurity by yelling at his subordinates. The strength coach who works her athletes so hard that they frequently get injured or sick. The person who hates the “other” because that’s a lot easier than facing their own pain and suffering. The parent who confuses demandingness for discipline. The coach who mistakes control for respect. And the vast majority of us who have mistaken external signs of strength for inner confidence and drive. We’ve fallen for a kind of fake toughness that is:control and power driven
developed through fear
fueled by insecurity
based on appearance over substance.Fake Christian Toughness
Now you may be reading this and wondering what it has to do with Christian leadership. Or perhaps you can see some kinda spiritualised self-help coming on. Some sort of slogan on a poster that you’d get at Christian Kmart. But none of it. Leaving aside the longer part of Magness’ quote above, have a look at the four aspects of fake toughness he lists below that and ask yourself “When you’ve seen poor leadership in the Christian church, how often do those terrible characteristics surface.
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Why Cancel Culture Needs the Breathtaking Mercy of God’s Kingdom
During my years as a pastor, I’ve witnessed a range of situations in which people confess they cannot forgive: the man who was abused as a child, the wife of an alcoholic husband. They’re undoubtedly right, apart from Jesus. Because God alone can fully heal our wounds and revive the dead, we need him to move our hearts to forgive. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). God calls us to do likewise, nearly impossible as it may seem. When this kind of mercy appears, our merciless world sits up and takes notice.
Editors’ note: “Difficult but Beautiful Doctrines” is a long-form series that draws readers’ attention to the glory and necessity of theological truths people in the post-Christian West often find hard to accept.
Last year, Vito Perrone was formally offered the job to lead the public schools of Easthampton, Massachusetts. Perrone was well qualified as the former Easthampton High School principal and as the interim superintendent of schools in nearby West Springfield.
Unfortunately for Perrone, he sent an email to the school committee over contract negotiations that caused an uproar. Perrone’s sin? He addressed the women as “ladies,” which he meant as a sign of respect. However, this was deemed an unforgivable microaggression. Perrone was told that “the fact that he didn’t know that as an educator was a problem.”
The job offer was rescinded.
In recent years, the minefields of cancel culture have blown up on formerly anonymous school officials as well as on well-known figures like J. K. Rowling and journalist Kevin Williamson. As New York Times columnist Ross Douthat observed, “Cancellation, properly understood, refers to an attack on someone’s employment and reputation by a determined collective of critics, based on an opinion or an action that is alleged to be disgraceful and disqualifying.”
Cancellation is possible these days for anyone who commits actions or makes statements that one group or another considers beyond the pale. But what happens when cancel culture meets the breathtaking mercy of God’s kingdom?
Cancel Culture’s Perilous Cliff
Our merciless moment reminds me of Les Misérables, the 19th-century classic by Victor Hugo, and especially of the character Javert, who weaponized his narrow interpretation of justice. Hugo wrote, “[Police inspector Javert] had nothing but disdain, aversion, and disgust for all who had once overstepped the bounds of the law.” He sought to cancel all transgressors—especially the former convict Jean Valjean.
Javert’s greatest strength was his biggest weakness. Driven by a Pharisee-like commitment to the letter of the law, he couldn’t overlook the slightest infraction. “Though Javert’s toe-the-line mentality is often appropriate and admirable,” writes Bob Welch, “it becomes a millstone for him—and society at large—when used without restraint.”
Our cancel culture has brought us to the same perilous cliff. As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said, “A society which is based on the letter of the law and never reaches any higher is taking very scarce advantage of the high level of human possibilities.”
Worse, the merciless approach of cancel culture drives us away from what sinful people like you and me most need: mercy.
Seemingly Impossible Forgiveness
God’s kingdom provides a surer foundation. As the Lord said, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy” (Matt. 5:7). It sounds simple, but the implications should awe us.
Peter once asked Jesus, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” (18:21). Peter was proud of his far-reaching forgiveness, having exceeded the accepted norm. But Jesus famously responded, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy seven times” (v. 22). The lavish extent of divine mercy almost seems irresponsible.
During my years as a pastor, I’ve witnessed a range of situations in which people confess they cannot forgive: the man who was abused as a child, the wife of an alcoholic husband. They’re undoubtedly right, apart from Jesus. Because God alone can fully heal our wounds and revive the dead, we need him to move our hearts to forgive.
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Providence and Empire
So why does God give Rome its empire? As I mentioned earlier, Augustine thinks part of the answer is that Rome was the best option on offer. But he goes further. He argues that Roman leaders and society had a love for their city and empire that was noble if flawed. As opposed to rulers who merely serve to enrich themselves and advance their own interests, Rome developed a republican tradition very early on that praised sacrifice for the commonweal and placed the needs of the citizens above that of rulers. Romans worried frequently about the corrupting effects of wealth on the ruling class and the character of its citizens. Roman heroes are praised by Augustine for their willingness to sacrifice their lives, their fortunes, and, in the case of Brutus, even their children for security, virtue, and glory of their city.
The recent social media fad of wives asking their husbands how much they think about the Roman Empire had me thinking about why the Roman Empire looms so large, even to this day. Many of the women were shocked by their husbands’ almost obsessive interest in the Roman Empire, in part, as they assumed, the Roman Empire was an archaic and bad thing. What could we learn from the big bad Roman Empire?
Back when I taught Roman history at a big state university my classes were packed with men and a small sprinkling of women, most of whom were classics majors. So why were all these men interested in the Roman Empire? The answer to me seems rather obvious: America itself is an empire. (Drawing parallels between America and Rome is something of an American pastime going back to our founding.) And if you want insight into our own time and place the Roman Empire offers an illuminating example of how one particular empire successfully navigated itself for many centuries.
An interesting feature of American life and history is that, unlike empires of the past, we are deeply ambivalent if not hostile to that reality. Some Americans would even reject that we are an empire. To live in this state of denial is bad if only because it blinds us to the reality that we are still the most powerful nation in the world and we use our power to influence and coerce other nations to act in ways we would like them. That is how empires behave.
Empires are a fact of reality in international politics and always will be. There will always be a few nations that exercise inordinate influence and power on the world stage. Scholars sometimes refer to these nations as “hegemons,” but empire is a more descriptively accurate and colloquial term. During the Cold War, the US and the USSR were the two major world powers and competed with one another globally for influence, wealth, and power. At present the US and China seem destined for competition, if not conflict, for global preeminence.
But the real question regarding empires is: can they be good? One could concede the fact that empires exist and have existed, but are they good for global order or for the nations that exercise imperial power? The historical record would have to be judged to determine whether we have been a good empire and whether the good that America has achieved throughout its dominance of world politics outweighs the bad. That’s not the argument I want to make, though I think that is a key question.
Many groups on the political left and, increasingly, on the right see American global hegemony as wicked and evil, though for quite different reasons. The left, generally, is committed to anti-imperialism in principle. Empire anywhere is intrinsically evil as a form of government, in part because it is exploitative and domineering at its very essence. It preys upon weak nations, using its overwhelming power to make subject nations into mere pawns for maintaining its power and extracting resources and capital to enrich itself at the expense of native populations.
Conservatives, on the other hand, tend to be more ambiguous about the nature of governmental forms, though more libertarian or Republican-leaning conservatives have a strong commitment to republican self-government. The right tends to object to American empire based on its effects: it neglects the good of the nation, whether through irresponsible wars abroad, economic policies that only enrich corporations, or through exporting the most debased aspects of American popular culture to the rest of the world. The regime change wars of the past two decades have been failures and a massive waste of blood and treasure, our economic policies have not benefited the middle or working class, and our culture grows more perverse by the day.
I am not offering a comprehensive analysis here, just noting that both left and right have strong moral objections to American empire. For the sake of my argument here, I am assuming America’s imperial epoch, running roughly from 1945 to the present, has been, on balance, better than worse for the US and the world. I realize many will disagree.
What I would like to argue in this essay is that American Christians, and conservative Christians in particular, should be open to the claim that empire can be a good form of government and that exercising imperial rule is not in and of itself a bad thing. It can be a good thing. Here I will turn to Augustine of Hippo and engage his rather complex view of the Roman Empire. Augustine’s appraisal of Rome was rooted in his account of providence and a considered ambivalence about governmental forms. He did not think there was one form of government that Christians should endorse. He could appreciate the Republican period in Rome as well as the Empire, though he saw weaknesses in both.
The importance of Augustine’s qualified acceptance of the Roman Empire and the good that it achieved is to show how the most brilliant theologian in church history thought about politics from a distinctly Christian viewpoint. “Empire” is a term of derision and loathing today, shorthand for all that is bad. But that view is more a product of our unique American history and experiences than a considered theological position. American Christians hold to the rather narrow and parochial view that “liberal democracy” is somehow the final form of all politics. However laughable an assumption that may be, one finds this unconscious conviction all too common in discussions among American Christians. This essay defends American Empire, at least against those Christians who will say any form of empire is sinful or intrinsically evil. Empire is not evil per se. Augustine provides at least one way to think about empire that breaks the stranglehold of our own contemporary political pieties.
It will surprise most that Augustine defends empire, even if in a rather qualified sense. Augustine’s defense is a mixed bag. Rome is deeply flawed, but a defense of Rome is what it amounts to.
Empire, Then and Now
It is interesting to contrast the US with the United Kingdom on the question of empire. Though there is a strong reaction against the British empire in the UK today, especially among academics, the British historically were more clear-eyed about the reality of their empire. Europeans, as a whole, are much less squeamish about empires given that Europe has more or less been ruled and structured by empires throughout their history. The European Union itself is a type of supra-national empire that blends the characteristics of empire with aspects of democratic representation.
The existence of empires is a fact of history. There has never been a world in which empires were not in existence. There have always and will always be nations who exercise preeminent power in the international sphere. The basic insight of realists is self-evidently correct: what matters most in international politics is power, and more often than not, hard power.
After the fall of the Roman Empire in Europe, political order collapsed and Europe became a backwater of world history for at least 500 years, living in the shadow of Islamic Caliphates who conquered most of what was the Eastern Roman Empire and expanded its reach further to the East. World War II marked the beginning of the end of the British Empire and the ascendance of the American. British leaders knew this was the case and accepted their new lot in the American global order with dignity.
The British were by no means perfect in how they grew and administered their empire, but, in the grand scheme of things, they acquitted themselves well as imperial rulers. So good were the Brits at ruling that the nations who raised the Union Jack are among the most wealthy, stable, and democratic nations in the world.
The same was true of the Roman Empire. Commonly portrayed as rapacious and brutal, most of those outside the empire wanted to be part of it. Rome was indeed brutal, but not out of the norm for the ancient world. In a time of weak governmental structures and order, Rome was unique in its ability to bring some semblance of order and administration out of chaos and endless tribal warfare common among Germanic tribes. Imperial administration would be seen as highly desirable. The Germanic tribes that raided and pillaged the empire in the late 4th and 5th century wanted to be a part of the Roman Empire in order to enjoy its fruits. Many of the generals of the later empire were not of Roman stock but were from the edges of the empire and often had a parent that was not a Roman citizen. Stilicho, the leading general in the Western empire in the early 5th century, is a good example of this trend. One of the ways the military was able to raise and retain soldiers was to promise citizenship to non-Romans after a number of years of service. The retirement package often included a pension and property. If you were a poor Germanic man living a subsistence life outside the empire, this would be extremely appealing.
However, the Roman empire was not all upside. It was a system that favored aristocrats and the wealthy. Though something of a middle class was able to form in the golden years of the empire, those benefits receded in later years. Rome’s brutality is not something that should be overlooked either. But the critique of empire today is rooted in contemporary notions of race and oppression that are anachronistic.
After Roman government vanished from Western Europe, cities, population, and wealth vanished as well. Literacy rates plummeted. Population levels crashed. Trade slowed to a trickle and the general order society disintegrated into warring kingdoms led by tribal chieftains. In contrast to the West, the Eastern Roman Empire— referred to by Westerners as Byzantium— continued to prosper for another millennium. Few would think the West got the better end of that bargain.
Nigel Biggar addresses a similar critique of the British Empire in our day in his recent book on Colonialism and a recent essay in First Things wherein he defends American Empire. The fashionable critique of the British Empire that Biggar confronts is that the empire was an exceedingly immoral and rapacious in its behavior towards its colonies. Biggar concedes that there is plenty of material to lament and repent of, but also a great amount of benefit to be proud of. Empires, like any other form of government, are not inherently evil. The British, like all European powers, participated in the slave trade, but repented of their moral errors and used their navy to effectively end the transatlantic slave trade. The point is that every nation has a checkered past.
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