Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella

Fr. Scott A. Haynes

A Carol Meditation

Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella bursts into the night with motion. This is no hushed lullaby sung at a distance. It is a summons. Bring a torch. Run. Hurry. The Child is here, and the darkness must give way.

The carol comes to us from Provence, rooted in the old French Noëls that were sung not in concert halls but in homes, marketplaces, and village streets. Its original refrain, “Guillô, pran ton flambeau,” called real people by name. Jeanette. Isabella. Girls of the village. Ordinary souls. The carol makes them the first missionaries of Christmas. They are told to light a flame and carry it to Bethlehem.

The command matters. God does not ask them to observe the mystery but to approach it. Light is not optional. The torch is necessary because the world, even when Christ is born, is still dark. The stable is not illuminated by chandeliers. The Light of the world enters quietly, and human hands must carry small flames to meet Him.

The shepherds rush ahead, torches raised, and then the song pauses. Once they reach the manger, the tone changes. The running stops. The shouting softens. The flames are lowered. The carol tells us to be quiet now. To hush our steps. To bow. To let the fire flicker gently rather than blaze. Joy does not vanish. It becomes reverence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7k6jjxr1SuQ

Here the theology deepens. The torch is faith awakened. It is the soul stirred from sleep by grace. It is the courage to move toward God rather than remain safe in the shadows. Yet the same flame that urges us to run must learn to kneel. The Child who draws us forward also teaches us how to adore.

The carol gives a subtle lesson in evangelization. First, go quickly. Do not delay obedience. Do not wait until conditions are perfect. Then, when you arrive, be still. Speak softly. Love deeply. True witness always has these two movements. Zeal without reverence becomes noise. Reverence without zeal becomes inertia. The shepherds teach us the balance.

There is also a tenderness here that belongs especially to Christmas. Jeanette and Isabella are not scholars or rulers. They carry no gold. They bring light. In a world that prizes brilliance and power, the carol reminds us that God delights in small flames carried faithfully. A candle held with love pleases Him more than a torch waved for display.

At the manger, the torches do not compete with Christ’s light. They serve it. Their glow reveals His face. So it is with every Christian vocation. We are not the Light. We bear it. We do not replace the sun. We witness to the dawn.

To sing this carol is to ask a question of the heart. What torch have I been given to carry? Whom am I meant to summon? Where have I lingered in the cold instead of running toward grace? And when I reach the presence of God, do I know how to be silent?

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella.

Bring your faith, however small.Bring your haste, purified by love.Bring your flame, and then kneel.

For the Child is born, and even the quietest light, lifted in reverence, is enough to set the world aglow.