O Magnum Mysterium, everyday objects, and the nativity
A Christmas homily
There’s a prayer traditionally sung on Christmas during the divine office called O Magnum Mysterium. It begins:
O magnum mysterium,
et admirabile sacramentum,
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,
O most awesome mystery
and sacrament divine and most wondrous:
that animals should look and see the Lord a babe newborn
It’s an ancient song about the Nativity of Our Lord, the wonder of that sacred event. Over the millennia, countless composers have set this song to different musical settings. Tomás Luis de Victoria wrote one of the most famous in 1572, three years before he was ordained a priest. The beauty of his music draws us into the significance of the role of Our Lady in the nativity. When the text mentions her name, the music actually pauses for a pregnant silence before deliberately and reverently blessing her name.
In recent times, the composer Morten Laurisden’s version is hauntingly gorgeous. He says he was inspired by a painting by Francisco de Zurbarán called Still Life With Lemons, Oranges and a Rose. An odd comparison, I know, random fruit and the Nativity, but the painting is actually symbolic of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Lauridsen says, “the objects in this work are symbolic offerings to the Virgin Mary. Her love, purity and chastity are signified by the rose and the cup of water. The lemons are an Easter fruit that, along with the oranges with blossoms, indicate renewed life. The table is a symbolic altar.” The painting projects an aura of mystery and deep contemplation. The Magnum Mysterium is similar. The poetry of it hovers in the air like angels in frosted midnight. Like the fruit in the still life, all of nature, right down to the shepherds and most common farmyard animals, gather in adoration of the Christ child. There is a hushed and prayerful silence. All of nature makes an offering to Jesus, through Mary, of adoration. It’s the best we have to give – we give Jesus worshipful hearts.
The text of the Magnum Mysterium, like so much that we pray and sing at the Mass, is Scriptural. The prophet Isaiah says, “The ox knoweth his owner, and the donkey his master's crib.” Such ordinary creatures! And yet they instantly recognize their Lord and Savior and crowd around him protectively. Lemons and Roses – such everyday objects! And yet they are precious gifts for Our Lady, capable of inspiring transcendent beauty. And here we are. Seemingly ordinary people, you and me. We have gathered here around this stone table with candles, upon which we will place bread and wine. Such ordinary gifts. Such precious gifts.
What I want you to picture is the nativity scene. Christ in his stone crib, a place where the wheat for the animals was ground down and consumed, firmly situated in Bethlehem, the House of Bread, the place where the lambs for the Temple played in the fields under the watchful eyes of shepherds. Picture that scene. And now understand that we are, right now, currently seeing it before our very eyes. We are participating in it. The crib is the altar. The Christ child the Eucharist. All of creation is gathered. All of creation shines more brightly in the light of God’s grace, and there’s an inner glow as his love radiates.
Here, at the altar, the Blessed Virgin is holding her child. The Church is here. Angels are stirring. The saints are praying. His light is shining upon us.
O how truly blessed is the Virgin whose womb was worthy
to bear and bring forth the Lord Christ Jesus.
Alleluia!
This essay first appeared at Father Michael’s website, Pondus Meus Amor Meus.