Since early December this year I’ve been plagued by an earworm, and perhaps you have, too. This is hardly surprising amidst a global pandemic during a year like 2020. According to one article, “Earworms are a generally benign form of rumination, the repetitive, intrusive thoughts associated with anxiety and depression.” It’s likely no coincidence that mine originated with a hymn sung at church a few hours prior to the unexpected death of a close family member.
The hymn in question is a favourite of the Advent season: Lo, He Comes with Clouds Descending. It is one of the blessings of living where I do that the pandemic was contained early. Singing in church, masked and socially distanced, has been possible since early summer. Of course, though hymns cry out for a robust use of vocal chords, we now sing quietly. We are mindful that, even with masks, full-throated singing can more easily spread the virus.
When I used to sing this hymn, the vision it evoked was one of Jesus descending gently to earth, supported by clouds limned with light, the whole image glowing and over-exposed like something taken by an amateur photographer. A few days after I heard the hymn this year, however, I woke to a day so overcast the clouds mirrored the mass and weight of the land itself and the heaviness of my heart. Only a single streak of deep rose broke the semi-dark and made me wonder: What if Jesus came now? What would I see?
Would he slip through that narrow breach in the sky and walk along the road to the nearest town? Would he arrive anonymously, clad in rags, saddened by dead hearts and bloated egos? Would he come with a thousand thousand saints attending, as the hymn proclaims? Would you and I see the same thing? Would he arrive the same for everyone, or differently for each person?
The idea of Jesus coming with the clouds comes from the first chapter of the Book of Revelation, the seventh verse:
Look, he is coming with the clouds,
and every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;
and all the peoples of the earth will mourn
because of him.
So shall it be! Amen.
Inspiration for the verse in Revelation came from the Book of Daniel, chapter seven, verse thirteen:
In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven.
Revelation is like the Book of Daniel on steroids. Partly for this reason it is my least favourite book of the Bible, though many find it inspiring. Its bizarre images come from the mystical experiences most distorted by human biology, sensory limitations, and the mysterious work of our subconscious minds. It is a combination of waking dreams and fevered visions recorded after the fact. The simple hymn it inspired moves both singer and hearer closer to a sense of God.
Hymns are a cherished part of the Anglican tradition. By turns they make me smile ruefully, weep with grief or contrition, grimace at revealed self-weakness, fill my heart with love or joy or hope. Too many reflect old prejudice or outworn theology. Many could easily be updated and a few, regretfully, should probably be retired for good.
If Jesus came now, I wonder what you and I would hear. Would he sweep to earth with a sound like rushing wind, the way I once heard a wingsuited sky-diver swoop to land, bare feet arched like a dancer? Would those thousand thousand saintly voices be uplifted in choral harmony? Would he descend through sunlit clouds to a single soprano alleluia? Would you and I hear the same sounds?
The hymn itself says we will know this heavenly arrival in different ways, just as no two people experience any encounter exactly the same. There is a broad division here, though, between those who are filled with joyous alleluias and those who face the returning Messiah with deep wailing. If we have been true to our relationship with God, learning the lessons of Jesus, attempting to walk in his ways, we will see his return as a triumph. If we have lived only for ourselves, this will be a day of dread, the only sound a groan of loss and regret: “Too late! Too late!”
While we know that God “desires mercy and not sacrifice,” and is all-merciful himself, there is sadly no redemption for those whose lives have been a rejection of truth, beauty, and all that is good. The one Law that rules heaven and all the laws of earth is an immutable law. It allows for the return to God of only that which is God’s own. All else falls apart, its lack of reality made known in the light of the one reality.
Lo, He Comes with Clouds Descending is only one of many hymns that warn us of this. Jesus himself told us repeatedly what we need to know to be welcomed into eternal life. He warned us and those around him about what awaited anyone who ignored his teaching. Down through the ages, men and women of God have repeated these words. They still resound in sermons and speeches, books and news media, podcasts and magazines.
When he comes with clouds descending, how will it be for you? What is the image in your mind when you think of the return of our Lord? What hymns or songs bring your hopes to mind? If you are unable to leave a comment at this time, I apologize. In the new year I hope to work through some of the issues caused by the theme change.