A couple of years ago, I did a small sermon series with you on some songs of the season, their meanings, and their histories. It was one of my favorite things we’ve done together, and as we only have this and two other Sundays left, I wanted to so this with you again. So I’ve chosen songs for the first three Sundays in advent and we will talk about them each week.
This week, we’re discussing a hymn that can be traced back to the fourth century and the liturgy of St. James: Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent.
Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
and with fear and trembling stand;
ponder nothing earthly-minded.
I think what strikes me most about the holiday season is the noise. There is noise EVERYWHERE when it comes to the holiday. Music on the radio, animatronic characters, the ho ho ho of a Santa, the jingling of bells, the noise of a cash register or a busy store. Each noise individually could be ok and even delightful, but in full cacophony, it just becomes noise. There’s even a song by Amy Grant that addresses this very thing- she says:
I need a silent night, a holy night
To hear an angel voice through the chaos and the noise
I need a midnight clear, a little peace right here
To end this crazy day with a silent night
So, it would appear that fourth-century problems and 21st-century problems are in some ways very similar. There is a need for silence.
This hymn has a deep and rich history and is one of the oldest, if not THE oldest, hymns that are still in use today. The hymn was adapted from the Liturgy of Saint James and was a part of the Eucharistic prayer during the liturgy. The point of this hymn was for early Christians to approach communion with a sense of awe and reverence for Jesus as well as awe and reverence for being a part of the communion meal with Jesus (Shihadah). It is almost as if folks are meant to approach Jesus as if they were imitating angels (Aniol). This is perhaps why the original text was called the “Prayer of the Cherubic Hymn” (Brantley).
The original text was the “divine words of the angels” in human language (which at that time was Greek). The Liturgy itself is considered the most ancient Christian Liturgy and it is still in use today in Syriac and Indian Catholic and Orthodox Churches. So when I say this text is ancient, I mean really ancient. It is so old that it is attributed as being written by James the brother of Jesus. Other sources argue that it was written by St. Cyril of Jerusalem around 370. Either way, it is perhaps the oldest of all liturgies.
The text from the liturgy that was read right before the hymn says the following:
“We remember the sky, the earth and the sea, the sun and the moon, the stars and all creation both rational and irrational, the angels and archangels, powers, mights, dominations, principalities, thrones, the many-eyed Cherubim who say those words of David: ‘Praise the Lord with me.’ We remember the Seraphim, whom Isaias saw in spirit standing around the throne of God, who with two wings cover their faces, with two their feet and with two fly; who say: ‘Holy, holy, holy, Lord of Sabaoth.’ We also say these divine words of the Seraphim, so as to take part in the hymns of the heavenly host.”
The hymn then references the mysteries of “Isaiah 6 and Revelation 4 and invites the singer to participate in the mystery of the Incarnation, a sense of entering the Holy of Holies” (Hawn). It was used as the bread and wine were brought to the front of the sanctuary for consecration. It was not about Christmas in that context, but rather about the mystery of the transfiguration in which bread and wine are believed to become the actual physical body and blood of Christ. This was about worshipping the very presence of Jesus in the worship service as presented in the communion meal.
This emphasis on communion is clear in the second stanza of the hymn-
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
in the body and the blood.
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heav'nly food.
In 1864, Gerard Moutrtie paraphrased and translated the words into the hymn we know today.(“Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”) and in 1906 it was paired with a tune, Picardy, from a book of French Folk Songs (Hawn). And from that point, it moved from being a part of an ancient liturgy to being an advent hymn.
And, after reading the history and original use of the text, I wonder how it became an advent hymn. None of the histories I read indicated why it became a hymn that is sung at the beginning of Advent, but I have a few guesses Every stanza has phrases that sound like Advent and Christmas
Christ our God to Earth descendeth
King of Kings, yet born of Mary
Rank on Rank the host of heaven
Alleluia, Lord Most High!”
And while the hymn has been used in common liturgy, as a communion hymn, and even during epiphany. It is still most commonly considered an Advent hymn and appears in hymnals with other Advent hymns. So…today we hear it again. These words echoing from the fourth century- from nearly as far back as organized Christian worship…
Let all mortal flesh keep silence.
I think it’s an important reminder for Advent. We need to take time for silent reflection.
One of my favorite writers is Thomas Merton. Merton was an American Trappist monk who lived at the Abbey of Our Lady of Gesthmani in Kentucky. Merton wrote poetry and memoirs and deep thoughts on all aspects of his monastic life and often practiced long stretches of contemplation and silence.
For Merton, silence is a basic human need. Silence cleanses the spirit; it heals and rejuvenates one’s being. According to Merton, without some level of chosen silence, language becomes a clanging cymbal; it is mere sound and fury! Regarding the necessity of silence, Merton asserts: “If our life is poured out in useless words, we will never hear anything, will never become anything, and, in the end, because we have said everything before we had anything to say, we shall be left speechless.”
But I these words from Merton get to the heart of why we need silence: “Silence makes us whole if we let it. Silence helps draw together the scattered and dissipated energies of a fragmented existence.”
During Advent, it is easy to get caught up in all of the noise. And even the JOYFUL Noise can still sometimes be noise. But there is a deep holiness in silence and taking that time of quiet and contemplation can heal us and make us whole. Perhaps that is why, in the dark of midnight on Christmas Eve when we mark the moment of Jesus’ arrival we do so NOT with a celebration, a cheer, or noise, but rather with singing Silent Night, Holy Night….Sleep in Heavenly Peace.
So, let’s find our silent nights, our quiet moments, and remember that for a moment we too are called to silence.