We all love Christmas Carols. A favorite of mine is Canada’s oldest Christmas Carol, called “Huron Christmas Carol”, but there is something so historically wrong about this song. I usually listen to Tom Jackson’s version of the Huron Christmas Carol. (Video at the end)
The Wendat/Huron sung this song long before 1649. The Huron attacked a Jesuit mission because smallpox was found coming from the blankets that were handed out, and the Wendat were driven from their land, in Quebec. Over half the Huron were wiped out and the Wendat were brought to their knees from need from shelter and safety from other tribes. They were forced to accept Christianity or the Jesuits would not help them. Immediately, the Wendat were relocated. The song was stolen and changed and in the late 1800s a French Jesuit priest rewrote the song, words, and used music from a traditional French song (Une Jeune Pucelle – A Young Maid) in his way of understanding/misunderstanding their culture within his words. And the Wendat culture continued to be told in the wrong way, as did their history, and they almost lost their language and traditions, forcibly. (By the way, “Gitchi Manitou” is not a Wendat/Huron word. It is a Cree Word. And the term “Huron” was a Jesuit term for the Wendat.) I will never feel the same about this beloved Christmas song. It is heartbreaking to know the history.
With Reconciliation huge in Canada right now (and what a joke that is... the word flung about like feathers being plucked, with no real definition or connotation to the word... lip service), there is a new reconciliation version out right now.
We gather at
midwinter dark to share this hallowed night.
Within
our longhouse, warm and dry, the fire glows with light.
Our Elders
sing a teaching song;
it fills the
night that seems so long:
This is our
sacred home, ‘neath heaven’s dome,
shining stars
proclaim the dawn.
Sky Woman
came down from above, but found no place to stand,
till Toad put
mud on Turtle’s back, and that became the land.
Sky Woman
died in giving birth;
her holy body
fed the earth.
This is our
sacred home, ‘neath heaven’s dome,
shining stars
proclaim the dawn.
A valiant
Little Turtle rode a cloud up to the sky;
she used the
lightning to make fire, and made our Sun to shine.
He journeys
‘neath the world we see,
returns to
make the shadows flee.
This is our
sacred home, ‘neath heaven’s dome,
shining stars
proclaim the dawn.
The Black
Robes came from lands afar, and told us of a day
Judea had
been colonized, and Rome must be obeyed.
A mother bore
a child of light;
rejoicing
filled the starlit night:
This is our
sacred home, ‘neath heaven’s dome,
shining stars
proclaim the dawn.
Rejoice! Have
courage one and all! The stars shine overhead,
the same
stars that shone down upon a baby’s humble bed.
The infant
grew to be a man;
his words,
like stars, light many lands.
This is our
sacred home, ‘neath heaven’s dome,
shining stars
proclaim the dawn.
But I respect Tom Jackson and so I shall love it done this way best.
©Carol Desjarlais 12.23.22
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