| If
we think of shepherds at Christmas time we usually picture
them in a crib kneeling around the baby Jesus. If we stoop
down and see only the residues of Victorian sentimentality,
we miss the drama of the shepherds' story as told in Luke
2:8-20. In striking contrast to many expectations, the news
of the Messiah's birth was first made known, not to religious
or civil leaders, but to ordinary people going about their
normal work, in this case shepherds on night shift.
Luke's
text is full of energy and dynamism. In writing Shepherds
leaping I was influenced by a delightful traditional
Catalan (Roussillon) Noel, 'Salten y Ballen' or 'Leaping
and Dancing'. Its energy and almost naive charm conveyed
the exuberance of the shepherds running and leaping to see
the promised child.
The
lyrics of Shepherds leaping, like Luke's gospel text,
show the significance of the birth announcement for the
whole world. In each verse, the first line evokes the cosmos
in celestial praise, the second line refers to the presence
of angels, the third line describes the shepherds' part
in the drama, and the fourth line makes the implications
clear. My emphasis on the universal is in deliberate contrast
to contemporary trends in much New Zealand carol-writing
to emphasise local elements such as beach barbeques, flowering
pohutakawa, and long summer days.
In
the first two lines the music is somewhat mysterious and
evokes a Middle Eastern context, as is appropriate for Jesus'
birth. Starry skies are universal and the swirling starlight
of verse one was prompted by Vincent van Gogh's oil painting,
Starry Night (1888). Galaxies are also part of the
cosmic awakening and in this carol they are sentient and
witness the Messiah's birth. Angels are caught up in the
excitement, twirling with delight, as have mystics in various
religious traditions across time and space. In particular,
the Beguine mystic, Mechtild of Magdeburg (1207? - 1282?
or 1297?), who at the age of twelve saw 'all things in God,
and God in all things', wrote:
I
cannot dance, O Lord,
Unless You lead me.
If You wish me to leap joyfully,
Let me see You dance and sing-
Then
I will leap into Love -
And from Love into Knowledge,
And from Knowledge into the Harvest,
That sweetest Fruit beyond human sense.
There
I will stay with You, whirling.
[Reference:
Hirshfield, Jane, Women in praise of the sacred,
1994, p.86]
© Jane
Simpson (2002)
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