Christmas, 1974: A Meditation
by Rev. Bob Kolvik-Campbell ’77, December 2012
I went to college, from Farmingdale on Long Island, to Central Methodist College (now University) in Fayette, Missouri. You could drive two miles in any direction and be in the middle of a corn field. It was 1973. Dr. Luther Spayde had recently passed away, and the new director, Dr. John Roberts, was doing some cantata by Ralph Vaughn-Williams called “Hodie.” As an 18-year-old freshman, I wasn’t even sure how to pronounce it. But being that it was the only thing happening on campus that Sunday before Christmas break, I went. The sanctuary of Linn Memorial United Methodist Church exploded with applause after the final chord was sounded. I had been moved, but was not sure why or how. I have learned that so much of what happens, happens on God’s time. The following year, I was more comfortable with what was happening in other parts of my life. This led me to sign up to sing in the cantata. I began to get to know this piece as a tenor, standing next to [my best friend] Ralph, who was far more accomplished that me, singing Vaughn-Williams’ “Hodie.” The Choral parts of the cantata consisted of the opening (Hodie: Christmas Day), a Choral in the middle of the first half (The Blessed Son of God), some support to the narrative part of the piece at the end of the first half (The Angel Chorus: Emmanuel, featured also in the Finale), some other portions of the second half (The Coming of the Wise Men), a choral at the end of the second half (No sad thought his soul afright) and the finale (In the beginning was the Word/The Hymn of Christ’s Nativity). While all of this was challenging to sing, it was also a great deal of fun, and there was something about this cantata that, as it worked on me, really got me reflecting theologically. The finale paired the first words of the first chapter of John’s gospel with the words of John Milton’s “Hymn on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity.” It moved me because the words of John can get lost in their own sound (In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God and....); so, it was Vaughn-Williams’ setting for me that gave these words a context that made them accessible for me. His setting of Milton’s words share a concept we see elsewhere in the cantata that the birth of Christ moved all of creation, not just humanity, to understand its salvation. The opening of heaven by the birth of Christ for all: this was grace! But it was the choral in the first half, “The Blessed Son of God,” that moved me, literally, to tears. From a hymn by Martin Luther, translated by Miles Coverdale, I began to wonder where Vaughn-Williams got this stuff. In this musical setting, with no accompaniment, this was the entire relationship between God and humanity through Christ, from birth to resurrection, summed up in a mere 81 words. The gospel given in miniature. We talk so much about what Christmas is about; as Christians we are concerned about consumerism and the lessening of the Christmas message. These words still bring me to tears as the real meaning of Christ’s birth: “All this did he for us freely, for to declare his great mercy, All Christendom be Merry therefore, and give him thanks forevermore.” This is what the Christmas message is all about: giving thanks to God for all, in that person of Jesus, that saves and loves us. I sang my lungs out that Sunday afternoon. My best college friend Ralph, a wonderful pastor and friend, died last year. Yet even as I remember him this year, Vaughn-Williams’ words still fill me with wonder and awe—even as I remember Ralph, and Central and that wonderful Christmas, 1974. Every Christmas since then, I have recalled these words. I have preached them. I have shared them across the Internet. And now I share them with you. Note from the Editor: This is an edited version of the beautiful meditation that Rev. Kolvik-Campbell sent us last spring. Not only is the sentiment profound, but the fact that his inspiration came in this season and on this campus inspires us to share these words with you, as he shared them with us. Blessings on you and yours.