Messianic Folklore

They say that joy is an act of resistance. Although it's often cheaply said, I think it’s true. I think it's also an act of creative energy: a way of forming another world around its tenacious possibility. It becomes, in embryonic form, a reality held in the joy itself. It is an act of participation in what the early messianics called καινὴ κτίσις—new creation.

Since the times are wearying, I’ll do what I rarely do when passing on these chants. I’ll hazard a little reflection: though, to be clear, the archaic words of this chant do not belong to me any more than to you or to anyone else who might care to dance to them.

Rejoice in the Lord always

I say it again

Rejoice

Xairete en kyrio pantote

Palin ero

Xairete

Χαίρετε ἐν Κυρίῳ πάντοτε

πάλιν ἐρῶ

χαίρετε

(Phil 4.4)

The Κυρίῳ (lord) in these words is a figure who holds a position of extremities: both ironic and serious. This figure is precisely the opposite of any Caesar in a grand white-pillared palace (and the Caesars were well-known as lord and saviour and son of god, and so on, before any messiah showed up). This Κυρίῳ was a peasant, murdered by the colonising powers that be; lived homeless among outcasts and died young. If you would like a social/economic/political location in mind to go with this chant, then you can know that the Κυρίῳ here speaks of the impoverished life, subjected to violent rule.

I’ll hazard another reflection. Although not above throwing some tables where bullish economic systems were concerned, this peasant Κυρίῳ never raised a hand to harm anyone, nor any armies to conquer anyone. Sometimes, I confess, I wish it were otherwise, but this Κυρίῳ refused all business with violence. In seriousness, and not irony, he wished well to those who killed him. Even to enemies, then, the counter-chant is addressed:

Grace to you

And peace

Xaris umin

Kai eirene

Χάρις ὑμῖν

καὶ εἰρήνη

(Rev 1.4)