Tonight, Scots around the world are drinking, eating haggis, feeling proud of the tartans and the land of heather, and toasting the lasses and the poet Robert Burns. You have to love a land whose chief holiday is held on a poet's birthday.

My first year of seminary, 1980-81, I served as youth pastor of Knox Presbyterian Church, Kearny, New Jersey, a Scots and Irish working-class town in sight of the Manhattan skyline. Of our congregation of about 110 on Sunday mornings, roughly 80% had been born across the water, either in Scotland or Northern Ireland. The pastor was a Scot himself, educated at New College, Edinburgh. Sunday morning my wife and I were greeted with the accents of Scotland. There is not one Scottish accent, but several regional ones. I never did learn to understand dear old Mrs. Barclay, from way in the north of Scotland whose English included some sort of Gaelic. When we took our three-week old daughter to church for the first time, Mrs. Barclay looked at her and said with a smile, "What a wee looney!" (What a small baby!)

In Kearny we learned to love fish-and-chips, meat pies, soup for Sunday dinner (made the day before so as not to break the Sabbath), and the people. And Robert Burns. The night of his birthday was "party night" for all people Scottish, or who wished they were. Singing, fellowship, whiskey, and haggis. The Sunday nearest Burns' birthday was "Scottish Heritage Sunday" in church. Standing room only with people coming from all over the New York metropolitan area. Pipers, kilts, and a traditional Scottish Presbyterian service.

One time the Apostle Peter asked Jesus what was in it for him. "Look, we have left everything and followed you." Jesus said, "Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age--houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions--and in the age to come eternal life.

In Kearny, New Jersey, a long way from Sullivan County, Missouri, or Wayne, County, Iowa, my wife and I received Scottish and Scots-Irish brothers and sisters. The fellowship of those who toast and quote Robert Burns this night.

AULD LANG SYNE (from Hogmanay.net)

Words adapated from a traditional song
by Rabbie Burns (1759-96)

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit,
Sin auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne

Meanings

auld lang syne - times gone by
be - pay for
braes - hills
braid - broad
burn - stream
dine - dinner time
fiere - friend
fit - foot
gowans - daisies
guid-willie waught - goodwill drink
monie - many
morning sun - noon
paidl't - paddled
pint-stowp - pint tankard
pou'd - pulled
twa - two



Robert Burns Night from Brits At Their Best

The official Robert Burns site from Scotsweb

The Burns' poem, Address to a Haggis