Steve West: A classic Christmas song

NICK EICHER, HOST: Today is Tuesday, December 13th. Good morning! This is The World and Everything in It from listener-supported WORLD Radio. I’m Nick Eicher.

MARY REICHARD, HOST: And I’m Mary Reichard. You’ve probably heard this slightly annoying song at some point:

CLIP: [Christmas don’t be late…]

I’m sure some people enjoy that classic version. No matter how you feel about it, though, WORLD commentator Steve West found a different version worth a closer listen.

STEVE WEST, COMMENTATOR: In 1958, Ross Bagdasarian wrote a song called “Christmas Don’t Be Late.” The song rose to #1 on the Billboard charts and won three Grammy awards. You know it, of course, as “The Chipmunk Song,” sung by the fictitious trio of Alvin and the Chipmunks and as a song played for comic relief.

THOMAS: [INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC]

But wait.

THOMAS: [INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC]

If you listen to the contemplative rendering of the song by Rosie Thomas, who adds some additional verses, you’ll understand why it remains one of my favorites. Here’s a clip from the 2008 album, A Very Rosie Christmas.

THOMAS: Christmas, Christmas time is near, Time for joy and time for cheer…

Under Thomas’ care, the song is transformed. It begins in a child’s perspective, longing for Christmas to “hurry fast,” for a “hula hoop” and a “plane that loops the loop.” But then the perspective broadens, first to a concern for others in the family, for Someone or Something to “please bring joy to Mom and Dad,” to “help my brother, he’s been sad,” all of which immediately makes you wonder what weighs on Mom and Dad, and why is brother sad? And then it ends with a zinger of longing, Thomas pleading, “may they know He came for them.” I hear a longing for a Christmas still to come, when Jesus comes and dries up every tear.

THOMAS: Christmas, Christmas time is near, Time for memories, time for cheers, Comfort those who need a friend, fill their hearts with happiness, May they know He came for them, Oh Christmas…

He came. For a Mom and Dad who are weighed down by too many Christmases of disappointment in themselves, in each other, in life. For a brother who is sad. For a shop-clerk whose feet are tired and longs to go home. For a Christmas that, on December 26th, didn’t live up to what it promised. Or one that even in its finest moment, when your gaze is on the Infant Lowly and the miracle of Incarnation, remains yet to come.

But I can tell you this: When I wake up the day after Christmas, a trio of chattering chipmunks will be in my head, still asking that Christmas not be late, and Rosie Thomas imploring that the world can’t wait.

Hearing them, I hear “Come, Lord Jesus, come.” I hear promise and hope. I hear the mystery of the love of God for the world and the unwinding of the curse. I hear the promise of Christmas to come. I can hardly stand the wait.

THOMAS: [Christmas time, please don’t be late, please don’t be late…]

I’m Steve West.

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