Fresh off last week’s discovery that “People, Look East” might be coded propaganda for a clandestine versus orientem revival, I approached this Sunday’s liturgy with heightened vigilance. Imagine my dismay when the next hymn announced itself: the venerable “On Jordan’s Bank” — that paragon of Advent piety which, upon scrutiny, proves deeply misaligned with contemporary political and pastoral sensibilities.

You already know the drill. The modern liturgical establishment will eventually have to address this. But first, the evidence.

Geopolitical Misconduct: Problematic Rivers, Problematic People

As I recently noted regarding “People, Look East” (see here), one must be alert to the ramifications of hymnody. And now comes “On Jordan’s Bank,” with an even more provocative setting: the actual Jordan River.

Anyone who has spent the past two years chanting “from the river to the sea” in order to evict every Israeli from “Palestine” may find it uncomfortable to discover what river that actually is. If one insists that the Jordan is unquestionably “Palestine,” then what is this son of Abraham doing happily co-opting it for Israel and for a faith that — according to Islamic theology — has not yet reached the “fullness” of later revelation? One must also recall recent papal admonitions not to indulge in unjustified “fears” about Islam (here). Yet the hymn blithely proceeds as though John the Baptist’s ministry belonged unapologetically to Jewish and Christian salvation history without land acknowledgements or concern about religious appropriation.

This poses an inconvenient truth for the modern theorist who assures us that Biblical witness has no bearing on contemporary geopolitics: Advent Scripture is saturated — overwhelmingly so — with concrete claims about Israel, Zion, and the land promised to Abraham’s descendants. If we dutifully proclaim “Thanks be to God” over these readings, are we then to dismiss them as pious fiction when stepping back into the secular sphere?

John the Baptist: A Troublingly Noncompliant Figure

St. John the Baptist himself proves no ally of modern pastoral theory. Here is a man who lived “on the peripheries” long before that phrase was in theological fashion, and he did so without permission from the chancery. Bethabara, the ford where he likely carried out his ministry, sat right on the border between the tetrarchies Herod the Great’s sons inherited. John crossed into Perea — Herod Antipas’s territory — not to “accompany” him through a complicated “marital situation,” but rather to tell him plainly that a faithful Jews do not sleep with a divorcée who is his brother’s wife. It was a rigidity about which a more pastorally flexible type would not have lost his head.

Standing there on the Jordan, John looked across the Dead Sea at the hills of pagan Moab, deriding the worshippers of Chemosh rather than recognizing them as just speaking another divine “language.” Today’s professional protesters — who chant about rivers and seas they often cannot find on a map — would surely object to this unapproved geographic framing. The man weaponized topography.

Theological Imbalance: Clear Doctrine and Other Offenses

Even if one overlooks the geopolitical difficulties, the theological content of “On Jordan’s Bank” is a minefield for modern sensibilities.

By the second verse we are confronted with the shockingly judgmental line: “Then cleansed be every breast from sin…” Who are we to judge whether anyone needs cleansing? Is not the internal terrain of “the way for God within” a matter of sacred private conscience, inaccessible to such reckless presumption? It’s almost evil detraction and calumny.

The hymn proceeds defiant and unchastened: grace is necessary for life, Christ must restore our health, and we beg Him that “we may no more fall.” The final verse even dares to proclaim that His advent has “our freedom won.” This is triumphalism of the worst (or best) kind. It presumes freedom comes from Christ rather than from canon law dispensation.

Conclusion: A Call for Immediate Liturgical Sanitization

Having endured two consecutive weeks of hymns advancing:

• impermissible references to Jewish historical rootedness
• secret theological propositions
• politically hazardous geography
• uncredentialed prophetic denunciation
• and unapologetic talk of sin, repentance, grace, and divine liberation,

I humbly submit that the USCCB — or at least a subcommittee of concerned liturgists — should initiate a full sanitization of our Advent repertoire so that, by next year, we might have safe spaces from such songs.

Until then, “On Jordan’s Bank” remains a problematic hymn, unless, of course, Advent still means preparing for the actual coming of Christ.