8th Day of Christmas – The Scandal of Mary, Mother of God and Marian Medley

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, 1 January 2023

The Annunciation, by Sandro Botticelli, c. 1485–1492

Mother of God

    You have probably heard the term “The Scandal of the Cross,” Christianity’s shocking claim that the Eternal God Himself was tortured to death in a manner usually reserved for the worst of criminals. That is only one, however, of a whole interconnected collection of Christian truth claims that are almost as shocking and scandalous.

     We celebrate one of those other claims today, on the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. The title might not sound quite as presumptuous in the original Greek formulation adopted at the Council of Ephesus in 431 A.D., Θεοτόκος (theotokos), literally, “God-bearer”, but it’s still asking a lot of human credulity.  That old rascal Napoleon supposedly claimed to find Islam preferable to Christianity because it was “less ridiculous.” That is to say, it relied less on miracles and difficult concepts like the Trinity . . .  or Christ’s being, at the same time, a descendant of David and the Son of God.  But of course, Napoleon really believed in little other than himself.

     We Christians, on the other hand, know that our calling is to conform ourselves to the Truth, not to the impossible task of somehow conforming Divine Truth to ourselves. And so we find that the Divine Motherhood of Mary becomes a source, not of perplexity, but of profound awe and wonder. Along the way we also find ourselves pondering less profound but still compelling questions. For instance, “What is it like for a human mother, even one who is ‘full of Grace’, to bring forth and raise up the Second Person of the Trinity as her child?”

Mary, Did You Know?

     That particular question is the focus of the first of the three songs that Hayley Westenra sings in the video below.  “Mary Did You Know?”, written by Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene, was first recorded in 1991. In the subsequent thirty years more than 30 different artists have recorded it over a wide variety of genres.  

It has also become much beloved of homilists; I first heard of the song fifteen years ago in a Christmas morning homily delivered by our local bishop.  The song has also become the object of quite a bit of derision in recent years. I’m not going to bog myself down in that particular debate here, except to point out the following. Mary certainly knew that Jesus was no ordinary son. She had it from an unimpeachable source. But did she really know what lay in store for her?

Luke’s Gospel

Madonna of the Book, by Sandro Botticelli, 1480-1481

Let’s take a look at what the Scriptures tell us. The Angel Gabriel himself had told her:

Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there will be no end. (Luke, 1:30-33)

But how could she possibly know all that being “the Son of the Most High” entailed? Luke’s Gospel itself makes it clear that she did not, as we see in the very next chapter:

 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions; and all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. And when they saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been looking for you anxiously.” And he said to them, “How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” And they did not understand the saying which he spoke to them. (Luke, 2:46-50)

The Awe and Wonder of the Incarnation

In any case, even when we do know intellectually that something will happen, our experience of the actual event can surprise us. And that, I think, is what the song means when it asks, “Mary, did you know?” Did you know what it would really be like? A large part of the song’s appeal is that it captures the awe and wonder of the Incarnation in such a personal way:

    Mary, did you know

That your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?

Mary, did you know

Your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?

Did you know,

That your baby boy has walked where angels trod?

And when you kiss your little baby,

You’ve kissed the face of God.

What mere knowledge could possibly prepare us for that?

Angel Gabriel’s Message & O Holy Night

   The second song in the medley is the old Basque carol “The Angel Gabriel’s Message.”  This lovely Marian song brings us back to the Annunciation.  We know that God gives us the freedom to say “no,” but the refrain “Most highly favored Lady” reminds us that he gives us all the Grace to do his will should we choose to say “yes.”  Mary was given the Grace to do something that God had never asked of anyone before her, and would never ask again . . . and so all generations call her “Blessed.”

     Finally, “O Holy Night,” one of my favorite Christmas songs. “Holy” means “set aside for God.” What night could be Holier than that on which “Christ was born,” the Night on which the Eternal Word became Flesh and came into our world through the agency of a human mother, a young woman who dared to say “yes” to God?

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

Today, the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, is a good time to listen to some lovely music and to try to put ourselves in Mary’s place. What did it mean for the Eternal Word to become flesh as a little baby, born of a human mother named Mary? What does it mean to be the Mother of God?

Music for the Christmas Season

In the video below I combined Hayley Westenra’s live recording with images from three magnificent painting by Sandro Botticelli: Madonna of the Book, 1480-1481, The Annunciation, c. 1485–1492, The Mystical Nativity, 1500-1501.
    

 Holy Mother of God, Pray For Us!

Today’s Mass Readings: Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

Marian Medley – Hayley Westenra

7th Day of Christmas – Christmas is Just Beginning

Mystic Nativity, Just Beginning
Mystic Nativity, by Sandro Botticelli, 1500

Are You Sure It’s Just Beginning? 

Just beginning? Does it seem like it’s just beginning . . . ?

Some images never fade. I have a vivid memory of a Christmas years ago, shortly after my return to the Faith. The Christmas tree was literally hurled through the front door on the afternoon of Christmas Day (this at the home of relatives who shall remain unnamed).

I was struck by how switched-around things had become, how the commercial “holiday season” had so thoroughly subverted the traditional liturgical “Christmas Season.” I started noticing that the so-called “Christmas songs” blaring through PA systems in retail stores in December were not really about Christmas at all (more on this below). Since that time my Lovely Bride and I have always looked for ways to preserve and honor Advent as a season of penitence and preparation, and Christmas (all of it) in its proper place, as “Christ’s Mass.”

The Image of the Invisible God 

Liturgical Cycle, just beginning

      We have found this endeavor to be more difficult than it sounds. It’s hard to be penitential when everyone around you is celebrating.  Likewise, it’s difficult to celebrate when everyone else is worn out from revelry. The good news is, the Church has an answer to this problem.

Bear in mind that the Church is the visible manifestation of Christ in our world.  We ourselves are both soul and body, and we usually need physical means to apprehend spiritual realities.  That’s one reason why Christ became Man.  He is, St. Paul tells, “the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 2:9).  For the same reason he has given us tangible sacraments as pathways of grace, and the Church itself.  The Church in turn has given us the liturgical calendar, so that we can live out Salvation History through our daily experience.

A Different Calendar

Most people, sadly, follow a different calendar.  It takes its cues not from Salvation History, but from the priorities of the retailers. They want to get “seasonal” merchandise on the shelves before the actual season begins, and try to get it there before their competitors. As a result, over the past century the commercial “Christmas season” (now more often called the holiday season) has started earlier and earlier.

As a result, we are putting Christmas merchandise on the shelves in September. At the same time, the Christmas-themed music (about celebrating Christmas, or maybe just the “wonderful time of year,” rather than about the Nativity of Jesus itself) begins blaring out of the stores’ PA systems.  The stores stop receiving Christmas items in mid-December and begin selling down their supplies, because once “the holiday” is over (i.e., December 25th . . . what’s that holiday called again?) they don’t want to be stuck with a lot of overstock (which means financial losses). In our post-Christian culture, the commercial Christmas season and its advertising sets the tone for society as a whole. Consequently, for most people Christmas is now over.

 The Real Christmas Season 

But not for those of us who are followers of the Babe lying in the manger.  Today is the seventh of eight days in the Octave of Christmas, all of which days are solemnities. Beyond that, the customary “Twelve Days of Christmas” extend until January 5th, the day before the traditional date of the Feast of Epiphany.  The formal Christmas Season itself extends until the Baptism of the Lord, this year on January 9th.  

JP II, just beginning

Some Catholics observe Christmas informally until the Feast of the Presentation on February 2nd. Saint John Paul II did so even as Pope, as did my lovely bride’s Polish forebears. In other words, Christmas is not yet even half-way through.

Granted, keeping Christmas when it ought to be kept can be hard, especially when we have all been living and working in an environment reveling in the “holiday spirit” during what was supposed to be the preparatory Season of Advent. Most of our world is now wearily going back about its business just when the real celebration is just starting.  

That’s where the Liturgical Calendar comes to our rescue.  There we find, as in, for instance, the Feast of St. John the Apostle, that while the Incarnation points to the Crucifixion, it is only through the suffering and death of Christ that we come to the Triumph of the Resurrection. Our Celebration of Christmas, then, is not mere revelry in defiance of the cruelty of reality.  

True Celebration 

Nor is it a vain attempt to deny that tragedy. It is true celebration because we know that, precisely because of that cruel reality, the Child born in Bethlehem has come to take us through the brokenness of this world and beyond. He has come to share with us something “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

Yes, the Christmas Season is just beginning, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. When I began my first blog almost a decade ago, I set out to keep myself focused on the True Season by posting something related to that particular day for every one of the Twelve Days of Christmas.  I’ve kept that tradition up to the present day, even during years when I’ve posted almost nothing else.  Please feel free to join me for the rest of the Season, and have a very Merry Christmas!

May God Bless Us, every one!

Music for Christmas

Today’s Christmas song is “The Wexford Carol,” featuring an all-star cast headed by Alison Kraus and the cellist Yo-Yo Ma, along with Natalie MacMaster, Shane Shanahan, and Christina Pato. I have posted the notes from the video and the lyrics below.

The Wexford Carol (Carúl Loch Garman, Carúl Inis Córthaidh) is a traditional religious Irish Christmas carol originating from County Wexford, and specifically, Enniscorthy (whence its other name), and dating to the 12th century.

Good people all, this Christmas-time,
Consider well and bear in mind
What our good God for us has done,
In sending His beloved Son.
With Mary holy we should pray
To God with love this Christmas Day:
In Bethlehem upon that morn
There was a blessed Messiah born.

Near Bethlehem did shepherds keep
Their flocks of lambs and feeding sheep;
To whom God’s angels did appear,
Which put the shepherds in great fear.
“Prepare and go,” the angels said,
“To Bethlehem, be not afraid;
For there you’ll find this happy morn
A princely Babe, sweet Jesus born.”

With thankful heart and joyful mind,
The shepherds went this Babe to find,
And as God’s angel had foretold,
They did our Saviour Christ behold.
Within a manger He was laid,
And by his side the Virgin Maid,
Attending on the Lord of life,
Who came on earth to end all strife.

Good people all, this Christmas-time,
Consider well and bear in mind
What our good God for us has done,
In sending His beloved Son.

4th Day of Christmas – Holy Innocents and St. Vincent of Lerins

Holy Innocents - Sano di Pietro
Massacre of the Innocents, by Sano di Pietro, 1470

 The 4th Day of Christmas 

Merry Christmas, on this the 4th day of Christmas! The Holy Season is well upon us, and today we see it in all its complexity: we’re still singing carols and chiming bells, while at the same time recoiling from the horror of King Herod’s mass infanticide at Bethlehem, as commemorated in today’s Feast of the Holy Innocents.

Today’s feast reminds us not only of enormities committed against innocent life in our own day, but also that the baby lying in the wooden manger has escaped Herod’s wrath only so that he might die thirty years later on the wooden beams of the cross.

 Holy Innocents and St. Anthony of Lerins 

 

St. Anthony of Lerins - Holy Innocents
St. Anthony of Lerins

   The Feast of the Holy Innocents is, of course, the chief liturgical observance in the Church today.  There are any number of fine reflections on the witness of these tiny martyrs.  See here and here, for example.  Here also is my post from last year:  Holy Innocents and the Saving Power of Christmas Carols.

This year I’m taking a different approach.  As I observed in my recent posts on St. Servulus, St. Nicasius, and St. Anastasia, lesser observances are often overwhelmed during great celebrations such as Christmas and Easter.  There are, in fact other saints commemorated today, whose memory can be completely buried under the combined weight of the Feast of the Holy Innocents and the ongoing celebration of the Nativity of Our Lord.  One of these is St. Anthony of Lerins (also known as St. Anthony the Hermit). As we shall see, there are some interesting ways in which this saint’s story complements that of the tiny martyrs of Bethlehem.

 The Attraction of Sanctity 

    As it happens, St. Anthony would probably be just as happy to be ignored, if his life here on earth is any indication. He born in the year 468 AD at Valeria in the region that the Romans had called Lower Pannonia, but which at this time was controlled by the Huns.

Fortunately, Christian life continued despite the hegemony of the pagan Huns. Anthony enjoyed the blessing of growing up among holy men. He lived for a time with St. Severinus of Noricum after his father died in Anthony’s ninth year. When St. Severinus himself died a few years later, Anthony moved to the household of his uncle Constantius, who was the bishop of Lorsch in what is now Bavaria. When he reached adulthood he became a hermit in the area of Lake Como in northern Italy.  

As is often the case with holy hermits, his sanctity attracted a large number of followers.  Seeking to recapture a little of the solitude for which he embraced the eremitical life, Anthony moved on yet again.  Eventually, he settled in Lerins in France, where he spent his final two years on earth . . . and where the would-be recluse became famous (yet again!) throughout the district for sanctity and miracle-working.

 Power Made Perfect 

     In the story of St. Anthony of Lerins we see a couple of themes that connect him to today’s commemoration of the Holy Innocents, and to the Child in the manger in whose honor we are celebrating this entire liturgical season.  St. Paul tells us in his Second Letter to the Corinthians:

[The Lord] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

 Thoughout Salvation History 

Attila the Hun, by Eugène Delacroix, 1843-1847

We see God’s propensity to reveal his power in weakness throughout salvation history. The preeminent example is when the infinite Second Person of the Trinity, the Eternal Word, manifests himself in this world as a tiny baby lying in a feeding trough in a stable.  We also see it in the helplessness of the Holy Innocents slaughtered at Bethlehem.

This propensity appears yet again in the life of a simple man who wanted nothing more than to live a life of holiness with his Lord. Isn’t it interesting that on this day when we commemorate the sacrifice of those children, and the sanctity of St. Anthony, the powers that loomed so large in their lifetimes are only dim memories. The power of King Herod, and of the Huns under whose rule Anthony was born, has long since crumbled, and their names have become little more than bywords for cruelty and violence.

   It’s not that the power of the Herods, Huns, and other worldly tyrants has had no lasting effect. It’s just that their “power” doesn’t accomplish what they expect.  St. Paul again provides us with the key when he says: “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

What God Wills

We see this idea applied in the non-scriptural passage in today’s Office of Readings, a homily on the slaughter of the Holy Innocents by St. Quodvultdeus (his name means “What God wills” in Latin). Addressing King Herod our homilist says:

Yet your throne is threatened by the source of grace – so small, yet so great – who is lying in the manger. He is using you, all unaware of it, to work out his own purposes freeing souls from captivity to the devil.  He has taken up the sons of the enemy into the ranks of God’s adopted children.

God makes all things work for the good of those who love him, including the evil machinations of wicked men like Herod.  How much more so, then, the good things in the life of a holy man like St. Anthony of Lerins.  God gives us his gifts not so much for our own sake, but so that we might use them in the service of others, to help free their souls, as the homilist above puts it, from captivity to the devil. St. Anthony was seeking a quiet life of prayer and contemplation, but God gave him the grace to desire such a life, and the power to perform miracles, so that he might sanctify the people among whom he was living.  Let us all pray for the grace to embrace likewise God’s gifts to us, and to use them for Quod Deus Vult: What God Wills.

Today’s Mass Readings: Feast of the Holy Innocents

Music For Christmas: Coventry Carol

 An interesting note: at one time, the story of these poor murdered children itself inspired a large number of songs.  The best known today (the only one, it appears, that is still regularly performed) is the “Coventry Carol” (lyrics below), dating from the 16th century. In the clip below Collegium Vocale Gent performs the song, with Peter Dijkstra conducting. The artwork in the video is Sano di Pietro’s 1470 painting “Massacre of the Innocents.”

Coventry Carol

1. Lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child.
By, by, lully, lullay.

2. O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.

3. Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All children young, to slay.

4. Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child,
By by, lully lullay.

2nd Day of Christmas – St. Stephen and the Incarnation

St. Stephen, Protomartyr 

 St. Stephen is the first Christian to follow Christ all the way.  His feast is the first day after Christmas, of course.  But we also call him the protomartyr, the First Martyr.  He was the first to follow Christ all the way, to his own Calvary.

We’ve observed that the wooden manger, a couple of planks laid across two trestles, foreshadows the wooden beams of the Cross.  If that’s a little too subtle an indication of what the incarnation is about, there’s this. On the Second Day of Christmas, when the dishes from Christmas dinner have hardly had time to dry and be put away, we celebrate the Feast of St. Stephen. He is the protomartyr, the first Christian to die for the Faith after the death of Christ himself.  Could there possibly be a more jarring reminder that our Joy is not care-free? That Grace is not cheap? Or that the Nativity leads directly to the Crucifixion?

Full of the Spirit and of Wisdom

     St. Stephen himself was one of the original deacons, who were chosen in the following way:

And the twelve summoned the body of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables. Therefore, brethren, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.”  (Acts 6:2-4)

Lord, Do Not Hold This Sin Against Them

Despite being appointed “to serve tables”, Stephen, like his fellow Deacon Philip, was in fact also called upon to preach the word of God (Acts 7). This is what leads to his death. Here is St. Luke’s description of St. Stephen’s witness:

But he [Stephen], full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God; and he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God.” But they cried out with a loud voice and stopped their ears and rushed together upon him. Then they cast him out of the city and stoned him; and the witnesses laid down their garments at the feet of a young man named Saul. And as they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” And he knelt down and cried with a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” And when he had said this, he fell asleep.

And Saul was consenting to his death.  (Acts 7:55-8:1)

The Power of Christ

St. Stephen’s story is a reminder that we all have different roles to play. All of us, however, are called upon to witness to the Gospel (μάρτυς, the Greek word from which we get the word martyr, means “witness”).

     The very origin of that word shows us that the simple fact of being a witness to Christ provokes opposition. Sometimes strong, sometimes violent, opposition. But note the young man Saul (the future St. Paul, Apostle and Martyr), who looks on in approval. He may even be a leader or instigator of St. Stephen’s stoning. It’s possible that the example of the protomartyr helped to prepare him for his eventual conversion. Who knows, maybe the ferocity of his persecution of Christians between Stephen’s death and his own encounter with the risen Christ was borne of a desperate resistance to the gentle promptings that were stirring in his heart. In any case, we see that we should not be discouraged even by the strongest opposition. The power of Christ is stronger still.  We need to do our part, and trust Him to do the rest.

Joy, Sorrow, and Glory

     And so if we take the long view, commemorating the death of the First Martyr at this time is not at all strange. The Liturgical Calendar reminds us, on the Second Day of Christmas, that we need to embrace the Gospel in its entirety. The joy of the Nativity leads to the sorrow of Cavalry, which itself prepares the way for the still greater glory of Easter.  As St. Peter puts it:

There is cause for rejoicing here. You may for a time have to suffer the distress of many trials; but this is so that your faith, which is more precious than the passing splendor of fire-tried gold, may by its genuineness lead to praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ appears. (1 Peter. 1:6-7)

St. Stephen, First Martyr: Today’s Mass Readings

Music for Christmas

Cantar Community Choir sing “Good King Wenceslas” on the steps of Castle Howard, 20th December 2015.

To learn more about the connection between St. Stephen and Good King Wencelas, see St. Stephen, Good King Wenceslas & The Power of Christ’s Love.

A Loving Mother: Alma Redemptoris Mater

Madonna of the Streets - Loving Mother
The Madonna of the Streets by Roberto Ferruzzi, 1897

 

Loving Mother of Our Redeemer

Who doesn’t want a loving mother?  Or, if we need to win the favor of a powerful person (a King, for instance), how could we pass up the opportunity of having his Mother put in a good word for us?  That’s the dual promise of the Alma Redemptoris Mater.

The first few words tell us that Mary is the Alma Mater of our Redeemer, Jesus.  The American English translation of the prayer that we see in the Liturgy of the Hours translates the word alma as “loving.”  It does mean that, but that’s not it’s first meaning.  The literal meaning is “nurturing” or “nourishing.”  That’s why the mouth, throat, etc. is called the “alimentary tract.”  It’s the passageway for nourishment to come into our body.

 

 Our Adopted Mother 

For that reason, the term alma mater itself used to mean a nursemaid, or wet nurse.  This is why we often call a school we attended our alma mater.  Just as a wet nurse nurses a little baby on behalf of the natural mother, our school nurtured us in loco parentis. Mary likewise is a nurturing mother to us, beyond our biological mothers.  As Pope St. John Paul II explains in his Encyclical Redemptoris Mater:

In accordance with the eternal plan of Providence, Mary’s divine motherhood is to be poured out upon the Church, as indicated by statements of Tradition, according to which Mary’s “motherhood” of the Church is the reflection and extension of her motherhood of the Son of God. (Redemptoris Mater, I.24)

What that means for us is that we can call on our adopted, spiritual mother to intercede for us with her son by birth, Jesus Christ.

 

 Falling and Struggling to Rise 

Because of her intercessory role she is the “accessible gate of Heaven” (pervia caeli Porta). Sadly, the American English translation lacks the word “accessible,” pervia. Next, we address Mary with a title familiar from another prayer, Stella Maris, “star of the sea,” our guiding star.

The image that follows is one for which I’ve always felt a strong affinity, the “falling people who struggle to rise again” (cadenti,/ Surgere qui curat populo). The Latin also nicely evokes the falling and rising of the sea (a fitting complement to Stella Maris). Cadenti, “falling,” ends one line on a solemn note, immediately followed by surgere, “to rise,” the word that begins the next.

We complete the first half of the prayer with our first plea for our Blessed Mother’s aid.  The Latin verb, succurrere, literally means “run up” to help.

 

“You who bore, to the wonderment of nature, your own Holy Creator.”

Nativity scene with the newborn Christ mural Franciscan Church Shepherd`s Fields near Bethlehem. Image shot 1990. Exact date unknown.

 To the Wonderment of Nature 

The second half of the prayer again reminds us that Mary’s importance comes through her connection to her son Jesus, again with some wonderful imagery:

 

tu quae genuisti,
Natura mirante, tuum sanctum Genitorem

 

“You who bore, to the wonderment of nature, your own holy Creator.”  The incarnation is so astounding that all of creation looks on in amazement.  I always picture the animals that are traditionally pictured around Jesus in the manger.  Now we know what they were thinking.

  Nature might well wonder at the next point as well.  Mary remained a “virgin before and after” (Virgo prius ac posterius), because Jesus wasn’t conceived in the usual way.  Rather, The Holy Spirit came upon her, and the power of the Most High overshadowed her (see Luke 1:35) at the time of the Annunciation.  The time, as the prayer puts it, “When she received that “Hail” from the mouth of Gabriel” (Gabrielis ab ore / Sumens illud Ave).

 

 We Are Not Unstained 

Our second petition comes after this reminder that the Blessed Mother remains unstained by sin. Here we acknowledge that we need her help, because we are not equally unstained: peccatorum miserere, “have pity on us sinners.”

     The Alma Redemptoris Mater is specifically associated with the seasons of Advent and Christmas, most likely because of the references to the Incarnation and the Annunciation in the final lines. We sing or recite it at the end of Compline, the closing liturgical prayer of the day, from the first Sunday of Advent through the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord on February 2nd.

Blessed Hermann - Loving Mother
Ceiling Fresco of Blessed Hermann from the Monastery at Schussenried.

 Blessed Hermann 

 

Tradition holds that it was composed by Blessed Hermann of Reichenau, a Benedictine monk who lived in the eleventh century. Blessed Hermann, also known as Hermann the Cripple, was well acquainted with suffering and difficulty. From the beginning of his life he suffered from what seems to have been amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or spinal muscular atrophy.  Hermann had great difficulty walking and talking. He also lost his sight before his early death at the age of 41.

He rose above his disabilities, however, to become an outstanding scholar in theology, mathematics, astronomy, and history.  After the loss of his vision he dedicated himself to composing prayers and hymns (the Alma Redemptoris Mater being a fine example).  Most importantly, like his fellow disability sufferer St. Servulus, he never let his sufferings dampen his joy in sharing Christ’s Gospel.

 

Please find the Latin and English Text of the Alma Redemptoris Mater below the video clip.

 

  Alma Redemptoris Mater

Alma Redemptoris Mater, quae pervia caeli
Porta manes, et stella maris, sucurre cadenti,
Surgere qui curat populo: tu quae genuisti,
Natura mirante, tuum sanctum Genitorem,
Virgo prius ac posterius, Gabrielis ab ore
Sumens illud Ave, peccatorum miserere.

 

 

 Loving Mother of the Redeemer

 Loving mother of the Redeemer,
gate of heaven, star of the sea,
assist your people who have fallen yet strive to rise again,
To the wonderment of nature you bore your Creator,
yet remained a virgin after as before,
You who received Gabriel’s joyful greeting,
have pity on us poor sinners.

 

 

 

From Small Beginnings: the 4th Sunday of Advent

Samuel anointing David, by François-Léon Benouville, 1842

From Small Beginnings Great Things Come

From small beginnings . . . “The New Testament in the Old is concealed, the Old Testament in the New is revealed,” St. Augustine once said.*  We can see the truth of these words in the amazing event we celebrate at Christmas.  Consider the opening verses of the first reading for the 4th Sunday of Advent, from the Book of the Prophet Micah:

Thus says the LORD:
    You, Bethlehem-Ephrathah
        too small to be among the clans of Judah,
    from you shall come forth for me
        one who is to be ruler in Israel;
    whose origin is from of old,
        from ancient times. (Micah 5:2)

We can see this Old Testament prophecy (as well as other prophecies from Isaiah, et. al.) come to fruition in the New Testament in a literal way in the birth of Jesus the Messiah in Bethlehem.  As always, however, there are deeper and deeper layers of truth underneath the surface.  Bethlehem is so small as to seem insignificant, but it will produce the Christ, just as it had once produced the great King David (the last two lines of the verse above indicate that the Messiah will be of the line of David).  

The Lord Sees Not as Man Sees

Speaking of great things coming in small packages, David himself was something of a surprise.  When the Prophet Samuel comes to Bethlehem to choose a new king for Israel from among Jesse’s sons, David is not with his brothers; he has been left behind tending the sheep in the fields, since, as the youngest and the smallest, he seemed the least likely to wield the sceptre. But, as God tells Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, . . . for the LORD sees not as man sees.” (1 Samuel 16:7)

In a similar way, centuries before David’s time, seventeen year old Joseph, youngest but one of Jacob’s sons and “the son of [Jacob’s] old age” (Genesis 37:3) is sold into slavery by his brothers and taken to the foreign land of Egypt, from which lowly situation he rises to become the chief advisor of the King of Egypt himself, and the savior of his brothers and all their people. 

“Look toward heaven, and number the stars . . . So shall your descendants be.”

God Shows Abraham the Stars, by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld, 1860

As Numerous as the Stars

Like Joseph, Jacob’s father Isaac had likewise been the son of his father Abraham’s old age. Abraham and his wife Sarah were so old, in fact, that they had long despaired of ever having children. When Sarah overhears God, disguised as a traveler, tell Abraham that they will have a son, she laughs in disbelief.  Then

The LORD said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’  Is anything too hard for the LORD? At the appointed time I will return to you, in the spring, and Sarah shall have a son.” (Genesis 18:13-14)

And indeed God had already promised Abraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars.  Abraham himself believed it, which was “reckoned to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:5-6). But who else, including even Abraham’s wife, could believe such a thing?

The examples above all involve mortal human beings who are taken from lowly, and seemingly insignificant, positions to accomplish great missions. But there is something different about the Incarnation. Jesus is not only human, but God himself. He is the “image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation” according to St. Paul (Colossians 1:15).  How can it be that the Firstborn of All Creation was born again as a little human baby? A baby lying in a manger out of which animals feed? From small beginnings . . .

A Still Small Voice

The Eternal - small beginnings
The Eternal Reveals Himself to Elijah, by Marc Chagall, 1931-1939

     Again, the Old Testament tells us, even if we don’t want to see it, that we should expect no different.  Consider the following passage from the First Book of Kings. Here, God shows himself to the prophet Elijah, who is hiding in a cave:

And he [the Lord] said, “Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice; And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”  (1 Kings: 11-13)

This, in its way, is as clear a foretaste of the Messiah as the “messianic” passages we read in Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel throughout advent.  We may have heard that, before the coming of Christ, people lived in fear of divine power.  Encountering God was something to be avoided. The point of praying and offering sacrifice, even sacrificing one’s own flesh and blood, was so that God (more often understood as “the gods”) would simply leave you alone.  

Small Beginnings: A Babe Wrapped in Swaddling Cloths

    We can detect echoes of this ancient attitude in the account of Abraham as he brings his beloved son Isaac up Mount Moriah, prepared to offer him up (Genesis 22).  At the last moment God sends an angel to stay Abraham’s hand, and provides a lamb for the sacrifice. The unexpected reversal in the story of Abraham and Isaac shows us the end of Christ’s earthly ministry. The story of Elijah in the cave shows us its surprising beginning. God doesn’t show himself in any of the terrifying guises one would expect (wind, earthquake, fire). Instead, he is a “still, small, voice” (in some translations a “whisper”).  

In just the same way, the second person of the Trinity comes among us in the least threatening way imaginable. From small beginnings. He comes as a helpless little baby, cradled in a feeding trough.  No wonder, when the Angel announces Jesus’ birth to the shepherds, he first tells them not to be afraid. Then he says:

For behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people: for to you is born this day in the city of Davis a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:10-12).

Good News of Great Joy

Good News, indeed.  It is, in fact, a Great Joy, and not at all a bad thing that God is in our midst, for “God is Love” (1 John 4:8). The Infinite Creator of the Universe makes himself finite, small and vulnerable . . . just like us.

* a remark that sounds as snappy in Latin as it does in English: Novum Testamentum in Vetere latet, Vetus Testamentum in Novo patet (Quaest. in Hept. 2,73: PL 34, 623; cf. DV)

2nd Sunday of Advent: Lo, How A Rose

Pink Rose 2nd sunday
*

  

2nd Sunday of Advent: A Shoot From the Stump of Jesse

The 2nd Sunday of Advent is here once more. Today is a good day for one of my favorite songs of the Advent Season.The beautiful hymn “Lo, How A Rose E’er Blooming” was originally the 16th century German song “Es Ist Ein Ros Entsprungen.” It draws its inspiration from the following Messianic passage from the Prophet Isaiah:

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD. (Isaiah 11:1-2)

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. (Isaiah 11:1)

Arbre de Jessé/ Tree of Jesse, Guiard des Moulins, Historical Bible, 14th -15th century

God’s Presence Where All Seemed Dead

In Isaiah’s time the Davidic kingdom had been destroyed, and the people of Israel were living in exile.  Nonetheless, it was clear to the Jewish people that the Prophet was speaking not only of their return to their earthly homeland and the rebirth a truncated  political entity:  he was delivering God’s promise that, when things looked most hopeless in this world, He would send a Savior, his Messiah, to usher in a Kingdom greater that any conceived by mere men. In this song the “shoot” (the Messiah Jesus, descended through his human mother Mary from King David, Jesse’s son) is depicted as a lovely Rose, a small but vibrant manifestation of God’s presence where all seemed dead:

 It came, a flow’ret bright,

Amid the cold of winter,

When half spent was the night.

     In the Season of Advent the Church reminds us that God has also promised to send his Messiah again in glory at the end of time.  This past year has given Catholics and all Christians plenty of reasons to feel that our world is collapsing, and that we are living in a sort of internal exile (we need not go into specific details here).  Our Hope will not be realized in this world, but only in the New Jerusalem in the world to come.

  

With Mary We Behold It

  

 For this reason, we look to the Blessed Mother as our model, who staked  her life on trusting in the promise of an angel.  And so the song invites us to join her in gazing on the Rose springing from the stump of Jesse:

 With Mary we behold it,

The virgin mother kind;

To show God’s love aright,

She bore to men a Savior,

When half spent was the night.

May the remainder of your Advent be a blessed one, as we wait in hope for the coming of our Savior Jesus Christ!

The Lord is close at hand – come, let us worship Him

Lo! How a Rose, E’er Blooming

I have managed since the inception of this blog at the beginning of the year to avoid posting any music from the Google-owned YouTube (as explained in my opening manifesto). The best free alternative is Vimeo, but their selection is much more limited. I have often had to create my own videos for the musical selections I wanted to post.

Fortunately, there are numerous versions of “Lo! How a Rose E’er Blooming” on Vimeo. I’ve posted two of the better ones below. The first is a lush and ornate treatment from Queen of All Saints Basilica in Chicago. The second is a spare and haunting version from St. Peter’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in North Wales, PA. Both are beautiful renditions, although the second version is more to my taste: I think the more austere treatment captures the spirit of this song better (even if the Age of Covid Zoom Chorus format is a little annoying). Why not take some time on this Second Sunday of Advent to listen to both, and contemplate the meaning of that Shoot from the Stump of Jesse?

*Featured image top of page: Pink Rose in Snow, Karen Blaha, https://www.flickr.com/photos/vironevaeh/4161498062/

What Is Man That Thou Art Mindful of Him?

 What is Man?     

   When I look at the Heavens, the work of thy fingers,

            The moon and the stars which thou hast established;

            What is man that thou art mindful of him,

            And the son of man that thou dost care for him?

            Yet thou hast made him little less than God,

            And dost crown him with glory and honor.  (Psalm 8:3-5)

Feet, What is man

What is man that thou art mindful of him,

  And the son of man that thou dost care for him?

-Psalm 8:4

Pine Point Beach, June, 2014

     One June morning some years ago I was at the beach with my family.  As we enjoyed some beautiful early summer weather, I was reminded of a line from a hymn we sometimes sang at Mass: “There is a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea.”  It was one of those moments when I could feel the closeness of God.

 Infinity Came Down  

     It doesn’t always feel that way. Standing on the edge of the ocean we can find its vastness overwhelming.  We can feel very, very small in comparison.  Sometimes when we look up at the heavens and think about the immensity of the universe, we can almost feel physically overwhelmed by it.  Edna St. Vincent Millay describes such an experience her poem “Renaissance”:

            So here upon my back I’ll lie

            And look my fill into the sky.

            And so I looked, and, after all,

            The sky was not so very tall.

            The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,

            And – sure enough! – I see the top!

            The sky I thought, is not so grand;

            I ‘most could touch it with my hand!

            And reaching up my hand to try,

            I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

            I screamed and – lo! – Infinity

            Came down and settled over me;

            Forced back my scream into my chest,            

Bent back my arm upon my breast . . .

 The Wonder of the Incarnation     

Thanksgiving, what is man
Thanksgiving morning, 2014

 But how much more humbling than the vastness of creation is the infinite God who created it?  How can we not feel absolutely insignificant by comparison?  As I’ve said before, it’s not so much the existence of a creator-God that is so difficult for us to believe, it is that such a God could possibly even notice something as small as ourselves, much less love us.

     That’s the Wonder of the Incarnation.  That’s what we’re preparing ourselves for during the Season of advent.  “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16): God put himself on our level (to the degree that he can), he gave us a human face to gaze on, and in taking on human form sanctified humanity.  “If God is for us,” Saint Paul asks, “who is against us?” (Romans 8:31)  It is Christ Incarnate that allows us to feel the boundless immensity of creation not as an infinite indifference swallowing us up without a second thought, but the embrace of infinite Love.  In fact, by lowering himself to become man, and by suffering and dying for us, Jesus showed us in the flesh that, truly, “God is Love”(1John 4:8). Let us thank The Lord.

Video – There is a Wideness: