Let Every Heart Sing Part 4

'Twas in the Moon of Wintertime

My favorite speaker at the 2023 Evolving Faith Conference which I attended virtually in October was a Native American author and activist, Dr. Randy Woodley. He remarked that when the Puritans and Pilgrims came to America, they encountered a people who were more Christ-like than them, despite never officially hearing the name of Jesus. But because of the way Christian Nationalism—the merging of American and Christian identities—has distorted Christianity, European Christians, and eventually their descendants would not appreciate God’s incredible general revelation of himself to these indigenous people. Over the summer, I read The Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich. It is the first book in a nine-book series that Erdrich, an Ojibwe woman, felt compelled to write as an answer to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. I loved the Little House series as a child, but reading it as an adult, you do notice that it unfortunately cast Native Americans in a negative light, which was the prevailing attitude of white settlers in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s day. The Birchbark House poignantly illustrates Randy Woodley’s point. While indigenous people did not know the name of Jesus or have access to the Bible, they showed reverence for the Great Spirit that created the earth and provided for them, and while white settlers were exploiting the earth, they lived in harmony with it as Scripture calls all of us to do.

Of course, Christian Nationalism is not a new Trump-era phenomenon, and in fact, you could argue that in Europe where each country had an official state religion—a particular denomination of Christianity that everyone was required to practice—Christian Nationalism was even more pronounced. Since 1492, European explorers have rationalized their exploitation of indigenous people with the belief that they were simultaneously fulfilling Jesus’s Great Commission, preaching the gospel to the ends of the earth. In this sense, the power that the Bible held was exciting. But Christian Nationalism is a case and point proving the wisdom of Jesus’s admonition that a man cannot serve two masters, because the Bible is terrifying in the power it gives to the oppressed. The true gospel would come into direct conflict with the unprecedented expansion and wealth of European empires, and eventually the United States, which would not have been possible without slavery and exploitation. Hence, white missionaries preaching the gospel to slaves talked a lot about Colossians 3:22 (“slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord”) and were careful to steer clear of God’s liberation of the Israelite slaves, and his retribution against their oppressors in Egypt. In their own literature, white people portrayed Jesus as a warrior, but literature given to indigenous people overseas portrayed Jesus as a docile, suffering servant.

But in a course on the history of the expansion of Christianity from the time of the book of Acts to the present which I had the opportunity to take at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, I learned about one French Jesuit missionary who was beautifully progressive for his time. Father Jean De Brebeuf understood that you could not share the gospel of Christ in a winsome way without first learning the language, and understanding and appreciating the culture of the indigenous people. In a document outlining instructions to fellow missionaries to the Huron people, the first statement read: “You must have a sincere affection for the Huron—looking upon them as ransomed by the blood of the Son of God, and as our brethren with whom we are to pass the rest of our lives.” In a time when many of his contemporaries at best treated indigenous people like ignorant children who needed to be civilized by the superior white missionaries, and at worst debated whether indigenous people overseas were fully human, Father Jean De Brebeuff warmed my heart. The theme of the other instructions basically centered on being a courteous guest in their culture, for example eating what they offer you without complaint (fish that is often dirty, half-cooked and tasteless by French standards) assisting them with the fire at camp, and being careful not to bring sand or water into the canoe. It was so refreshing not to see words like “heathen” or “barbarian” in this document, words which were commonplace in many other primary source documents in Brebeuf’s day. But the coolest thing Jean De Brebeuf did in my view was compose a Christmas carol in the Huron language while recovering from a broken collarbone, a carol which he presented to them as a gift in 1642.

In 2018, my choir sang this carol, ‘Twas in the Moon of Wintertime, and I am ashamed to confess that at the time, knowing nothing about the origins of this carol, and not bothering to research this, which I could have easily done, I wasn’t fond of it. I remember singing it with slight annoyance and an attitude of cultural superiority viewing it as a strange, almost sacrilegious retelling of the Christmas story. Now that I have been enlightened, I pray God will give me the opportunity to sing it again someday.

There is some disagreement among scholars as to the most authentic English translation of Brebeuf’s carol as when this carol was first translated into English by Canadian choral master and poet Jesse Edgar Middleton, the last people who spoke the Wyandot language of the Huron people were dying. My choir sang Jesse Edgar Middleton’s translation, but you can hear another version of the carol which gives you an idea of how it would have sounded in the Huron language, with the last two verses in English. But despite this disagreement over the proper translation of this carol, what matters is Brebeuf’s beautiful motivation behind the composition of this carol. Set to the tune of a French song with lyrics in the Wyandot language that told the Christmas story using terminology familiar to the indigenous people—wandering hunters in place of shepherds, and chiefs in place of wisemen as examples—Brebeuf shares the gospel in a manner which melded his French culture with the culture of the indigenous people he served, respecting the beauty and collective wisdom of both.

Unfortunately despite all of our moral progress, Jean De Brebeuf is ahead of many white theologians even today, who despite living in a pluralistic society where in theory the collective wisdom of all cultures should be appreciated, still view the perspectives of indigenous people, people of other faiths, and even the theology of African-American Christians as inferior. This carol should serve as a gentle rebuke, a reminder that all people are God’s image-bearers, and as such, God’s general revelation to people of all cultures can be found and should be cherished.