Yonder

In listening to O’ Holy Night recently I somehow focused on the word “yonder” – as in “for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”  “Yonder” is not really a modern word.  In fact, it seems like a word that, if used, would perhaps label someone as somewhat of a rube.  Indeed, it sounds like something Jed Clampett or Granny would say in The Beverly Hillbillies (“Jethro, go fetch Ellie Mae yonder at the cement pond.”).  Still, it seems like a great word.  It replaces “in a distance, over there” quite succinctly.

In contemplating the songwriter’s use of that word, it occurs to me that the Christmas Story is, in fact, a story of “yonder.”  It is a story of how we get from “here,” from where we are and what we are, to “yonder,” to a better place, to some better form of ourselves, some better form of humanity.

“[F]or yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn.”  I can almost hear it from the wise men – and from myself —  “Let’s go over yonder and see what that star is all about.  What’s going on in that manger?  Who is that little baby?”