A Homily for the Octave Day of Christmas, Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God
Readings: Numbers 6:22-27 Galatians 4:4-7 Luke 2:16-21
The roots of the Scottish Christmas carol “Tàladh ar Slànaigheir,”Gaelic for “The Lullaby of Our Savior” lie too deep in Celtic Christianity to discern its origin, however the carol’s English words were penned within the nineteenth century by the Rev. Ronald Rankin, a Catholic priest who pastored on the shores of Loch Shiel, just over the ocean from Skye. Most individuals now understand it as “The Christ Child’s Lullaby.”
It just isn’t a song concerning the Virgin and Child. No, the Virgin Mother is singing to her child. In his Christmas Carols: From Village Green to Church Choir (2015), Andrew Gant shares a Celtic legend related to the song:
There was once a shiftless laddie in one in every of the isles who had lost his mother, and that’s at all times a tragic tale, but had got a stepmother in her place, and that is typically a sadder tale still…. “Son of one other,” said his stepmother in a heat of anger, “there will likely be no luck on this house till you allow, but whoever heard of a luckless chick leaving of its own will?” But leave the shiftless laddie did, and that of his own will, and ere the complete moon rose at night, he was on the opposite side of the ben.
Is there any reliable evidence that stepmothers are less kind than a toddler’s first mother? Or is their popularity only one other case of collective guilt being piled onto a scapegoat’s back? Even good moms can regret the dearth of kindness that they often show their children. Probably a small swell in an ocean of care, but, like the remainder of us, moms will not be at all times perfect.
On this legend, the Virgin Mary herself shelters the “shiftless laddie” with the identical devotion she showed to her own, equally woeful, firstborn Son, the one who comes amongst us to suffer and to die.
That night the stepmother could get neither sleep nor ease; there was something ringing in her ear, and something else stinging in her heart, until eventually her bed was like a cairn of stone in a forest of reptiles. “I’ll rise,” she said, “and see if the night outside is best than the night inside.” She rose and went out, together with her face toward the ben; nor did she ever stop until she saw something which made her stop. What was this but a Woman, with the very heart-love of Heaven in her face, sitting on a grassy and song-lulling a baby-son with the sweetest music ever heard under moon or sun, and at her feet was the shiftless laddie, his face just like the dream of the Lord’s night. “God of the Graces!” said the stepmother. “It’s Mary-Mother, and he or she is doing what I should be doing—song-lulling the orphan.” And he or she fell on her knees and started to seep the soft, warm tears of a mother; and when, after some time, she looked up, there was no one there but herself and the shiftless laddie side by side.
And that’s how the Christ’s lullaby was heard within the isles.
In fact, the graces she needed to be a great mother got here from Christ, her own dear son, but Mary is the one who responded to them.
The Virgin Mary doesn’t castigate the stepmother. She is solely herself, tender and loving. Her example just isn’t reproach but encouragement, and therein lies the folktale’s genius. This remains to be how we relate to Christ’s mother. She just isn’t “super-mom.” She is our Mary, our model. The grandmother, if you happen to will, who offers assistance, not admonition. Mary sings:
My joy, my love, my darling thou!
My treasure recent, my rapture thou!
My comely, beauteous babe-son thou,
Unworthy I to are likely to thee.
Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia, Alleluia.While sun of hope and lightweight art thou!
Of affection, the center and eye art thou!
Though but a young babe, I bow
In heavenly rapture unto thee.And though thou art the King of all
They sent thee to the manger-stall
Where at thy feet all of them shall fall
And sing their praises unto thee.
That first verse could be value memorizing, in order that we are able to sing it to our own children, whether or not they are still in our arms or set aflight on the earth. None of us are worthy of the loves God gives us. But God gives them to us nonetheless because God is love.
In every culture, Recent Yr’s Day brings recent beginnings, careful attempts to do it right in order that the rest of the 12 months will follow in course. There was thus a wisdom in the choice to honor Mary, the Mother of God, on today. In fact, the graces she needed to be a great mother got here from Christ, her own dear son, but she is the one who responded to them.
What a wonder, which we rarely note. We typically feel guilty before a faceless God, whom we are able to only poorly imagine, but once we bring Mary’s face to mind, or that of her son Jesus, we, who’re weak and so often fail, find solace and encouragement. Therein lies the genius of the Incarnation: Seeing the face of God within the flesh assures us that love is real, love is all.