Our heroes are flawed. Our villains have moments of redemptive grace. We live in a complex world, where we cannot depend upon someone being just someone, but instead they are always many things.
I bring this up because Christmas 2018 is half-way over. (You do celebrate the 12 Days of Christmas from Dec 25 Christmas Day through January 6, Epiphany of the Gentiles, of course?) And in Christmastime one of the more popular carols (“Christmas hymns”) is the fantastic, overwhelming, joyful “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”
It’s one of my favorites, both in the tune and in the words. Charles Wesley wanted a song that was solemn and majestic, befitting the incredible events of that Christmas night. Heaven and earth rejoiced at the arrival of the King of kings and Lord of lords, in a feeding trough in an obscure village under occupation from a powerful and hostile enemy. The Redeemer is come; let all rejoice in his arrival and let all be glad that the Presence of God is now here. Soon and very soon will come our liberation from oppression and from our enemies, and the King will walk among us.
Charles Wesley, of course, wrote the words to this wonderful hymn, and while I won’t quote the entire set of verses, I will highlight the first verse—the most familiar opening lines, sung by mass choirs and backed by brass orchestras:
HARK how all the Welkin rings
“Glory to the Kings of Kings,
“Peace on Earth, and Mercy mild,
“GOD and Sinners reconcil’d!
Wait a minute, you say?
Those are not the lines you remember? What the heck is a ‘welkin,’ and why are we ringing it?
Well, this is where things get interesting. Charles Wesley wrote a great many tunes and hymns for the Christian church, but sometimes he didn’t quite get it right. The line scans, but it feels rather—odd. Perhaps in the day “welkin” was a well-known word, but not for us today. Today we’d say “firmament” or “the heavens.” But “welkin?” No, that just won’t do.
In steps George Whitefield, a contemporary and friend of both Charles and his brother John Wesley. These two men are the great founders of Methodism (as George Whitefield is a major influence in the Episcopal/Anglican church). There was a sense at the time that they might be “frenemies,” in that people would try to set them against each other, and in that they would need to make public responses to clarify their individual beliefs and their common values. People tried to stir up trouble between them, but the Wesleys and Whitefield worked hard to show their mutual respect.
At George Whitefield’s funeral, John Wesley was asked to speak of his old friend and co-laborer in the harvest, and he told this story to show his great esteem for George Whitefield:
An inquirer once asked John Wesley: “Do you expect to see dear Mr. Whitefield in heaven?”
A lengthy pause followed, after which John Wesley replied with great seriousness, “No, madam.”
His inquirer at once exclaimed, “Ah, I was afraid you would say so.”
To which John Wesley added, with intense earnestness, “Do not misunderstand me, madam; George Whitefield was so bright a star in the firmament of God’s glory, and will stand so near the throne, that one like me, who am less than the least, will never catch a glimpse of him.”
They were close, they worked in parallel, and they all are still held with high esteem in the American Protestant church.
A great man. He made that small contribution to hymnody, but his change was essential, I think, to making this carol into something that everyone can sing and join in with their understanding: The angels are come to announce the birth of the glorious Son of God. Let all the earth rejoice!
And yet…
As I read more of the history of the American Protestant church, and the place of George Whitefield (essential and central by his actions and his effects), I find that Whitefield had one great flaw that he apparently went to his death believing: that black humans, capable of redemption by the very Lord of glory of whom he preached, were fit to be owned by white humans, and fit to be enslaved as work animals to the profit of those same white men—which included George Whitefield.
Whitefield owned slaves at his labor camp in the state of Georgia, after working with the Georgia legislature to make Georgia a slave-holding state. Whitefield’s stated goal was to the profit of his ministry so that he could run an orphanage.
I have to tell you, I did not know this until this year, thanks to a great book I’m previewing that’s coming out in January, 2019—The Color of Compromise, on sale for pre-order right now.
I was…affected. This is a great man. Really. George Whitefield helped John and Charles Wesley in their own ministries, sharpening them and focusing them on the essentials of evangelism—calling people to the good news of God’s redemption.
This great man also participated in, and encouraged, one of the most despicable actions of the United States from its founding—the enslavement of sub-Saharan Africans as worthy slaves who have otherwise done nothing to earn their cruel fate except be black.
I still sang the hymn this year. But I sang it with a sense of great sadness at how the man responsible for the joyous lines had such a great cleft in his greatness.
Life is a lot like that. Our hymn-writers write songs of liberation (this is what redemption is, people!), and yet hold onto their humans as white slavers working those humans in their labor camps. Our heroes have terrible faults. Our villains have moments that make us say, “Did they really just do that noble, kind, selfless thing? Are they not completely broken and evil?”
It is something to consider, to put into perspective our heroes and our villains.
Maybe no one is beyond redemption, and maybe no one should be given a pass when they commit an egregious act that stains their character.
In the new year, give people grace even as you hold to high standards of behavior and accountability. We are all flawed in our humanness and we are all looking for thing that will help us to be the most human we can be.