Christmas Carols: Little Drummer Boy

Growing up in a mixed family, we observed Christmas and not Chanukah. As such I have a bevy of favorite Christmas carols. These are, by and large, achingly traditional, because I think part of the feeling of Christmas for me is a transcendence evoked by the continuity of history/shared experience, and a sense of grandeur that something as forward and immediate as 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day' by Wizzard could never manage to call forth in me. Christmas is sublime, and the music I closely associate with it is rarely merely chatty: it inundates and soars. I'm not religious, but a feeling of religiosity is what's called for.

I want to think about 'Little Drummer Boy' for the moment. Why is this childishly simple song capable, very often, of almost making me cry? The version in question is up to you, though I prefer something processional that climbs and builds and explodes into profound joy. There's a phenomenological analysis to be done here, but I'm not a Hegelian, so I'll just talk aimlessly.

Lyrics!


Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum

The immediacy here is great--not an inaccessible event, not a structured regime of spirituality you cannot enter into, this is a new-born king-- hope, fresh and strange and wondrous rather than de facto.

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.

Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum

This is piercing commonality. Whatever else Christ is, he is just a boy, and poor. This move of outreach, or empathy, is a humbling admission and sympathy of position, boldly asserted as fact.

I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

This is a class question, but it's also a bald declaration of personal inadequacy. At its heart Little Drummer Boy is a fantasy of acceptance. If you have nothing, if you are flawed, if you are worried if such as you could be worthy even of /giving/ love, let alone receiving it, it is a profound reassurance.

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?

The creation of an intangible Gift from nothing--calling forth personal talent, oil for eight nights from only enough for one--replenishing substance and unguessed-at strength.

Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum

The regal nod--part of the fantasy of acknowledgment/acceptance. You are real, and wanted. Your gift is valued, you become valuable.

The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum

Supernatural, Disney-princess degree of success--nature itself bends, super-naturally charming.

I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

That one's best would be good enough--that one could give everything in a performative act, like the climax of a sports movie, and prove worth. Not that is need be /the/ best performance, but your /own/ best. That one's best is attainable and demonstrable on cue, when a great enough situation calls for it.

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.

Final, crowning acceptance.