LOOK: Nativity relief sculpture from Chartres Cathedral
The Nativity, ca. 1230–40. Limestone fragment from the now destroyed rood screen of Chartres Cathedral, France, 93 × 133 cm.
LISTEN: “A Cradle in Bethlehem” by Alfred Bryan (words) and Larry Stock (music), 1952 | Performed by Gregory Porter and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis, on Big Band Holidays, 2015
Sing sweet and low a lullaby till angels say, “Amen” A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem While wise men follow through the dark a star that beckons them A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem
A little child will lead them, the prophets said of old In storm and tempest heed him until the bell is tolled Sing sweet and low your lullaby till angels say, “Amen” A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem
A mother tonight is rocking a cradle in Bethlehem A mother tonight is rocking her baby in Bethlehem
This song was popularized by Nat King Cole on his 1960 album, The Magic of Christmas. In addition to the live recording above featuring singer-songwriter Gregory Porter and legendary jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, here are two other recordings I like:
LOOK: Birth of Jesus with Magi and Celestial Observers by Ancent Soi
Ancent Soi (Kenyan, 1939–2022), Birth of Jesus with Magi and Celestial Observers, 1997. Oil on canvas, 34 × 23 in. (86.4 × 58.4 cm). North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
LISTEN: “Nyathi Onyuol” (A Child Is Born) | Traditional Luo spiritual, arr. Enrico Oweggi, 1990 | Performed by the Nairobi Chamber Chorus, 2021
Isaya ne okoro k’owacho niya “Kuomwa nyathi onyuol.” Nyathi ma wuoyi, no luonge Hono, Jabura, Nyasaye ma Jateko, Wuonwa, Emmanuel.
Chieng’o nogo piny neolil piny neo kuwe, Sulwe ne rieny, Nyathi n’o nyuol. Kanyna n’oting’o Maria, yawa, kodhiyoe piny mar Daudi kwargi kanyna n’oting’o Maria yawa Maria ne pek Yesu Jawar Kar nindo n’otamo Maria yudo Bethlehem ne opon’g ting ma pek Josef chwore n’o manyo ot tone ot otamo Kuom hawi Josef n’onyis kund dhok Gotieno nogo muoch neoyako Maria.
Isaya ne okoro . . .
ENGLISH TRANSLATION:
Isaiah prophesied and said: “Unto us a child is born!” He shall be called Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, our Father, Emmanuel!
On that day it was dark and silent. There was no place in Bethlehem for Mary and Joseph. By chance they were shown a shed, and that night Mary gave birth to the child.
Isaiah prophesied . . .
This song of unknown authorship is written in the Luo language of the Luo people, who traditionally live on the shores of Lake Victoria in western Kenya and northern Tanzania. It was popularized by Muungano National Choir, who recorded it on their 1990 album Missa Luba: An African Mass—10 Kenyan Folk Melodies, as arranged by one of their members, Enrico Oweggi (sometimes rendered “Owegi”).
The Luo lyrics and loose English translation above are sourced from the liner notes of Christmas a Cappella: Songs from Around the World by Chicago a Capella (2008).
James B. Janknegt (American, 1953–), Shepherds, 2011. Acrylic on paper, 17 × 13 in.
LISTEN: “Hark! Hark What News” | English folk carol from Cornwall or South Yorkshire, 17th or 18th century | Performed by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band, on Gold, Frankincense & Myrrh, 2001
Hark! Hark what news the angels bring: Glad tidings of a newborn King. Born of a maid, a virgin pure, Born without sin, from guilt secure.
Hail, mighty Prince, eternal King! Let heaven and earth rejoice and sing! Angels and men with one accord Break forth in songs: “O praise the Lord!”
Behold! he comes, and leaves the skies: Awake, ye slumbering mortals, rise! Awake to joy, and hail the morn, The Savior of this world was born!
Echoes shall waft the strains around Till listening angels hear the sound, And all the heavenly host above Shall join to sing redeeming love.
LOOK: Genealogy of Christ and the Adoration of the Magi, from a Beatus manuscript
Bifolium with part of the Genealogy of Christ and the Adoration of the Magi, from a Beatus manuscript, Spain, ca. 1180. Tempera, gold, and ink on parchment, each folio 17 1/2 × 11 13/16 in. (44.4 × 30 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
LISTEN: “Christ” by Poor Bishop Hooper, on Firstborn (2018)
Abraham fathered Isaac Isaac fathered Jacob Then Jacob fathered Judah and his brothers Judah, he fathered Perez Who fathered Hezron, who fathered Aram Aram fathered Amminadab Who fathered Nahshon, who fathered Salmon
Salmon fathered Boaz by Rahab Boaz fathered Obed by Ruth And Obed fathered Jesse, and Jesse was the father of King David Then David fathered Solomon by Uriah’s own wife
Solomon, he was the father of Rehoboam, who fathered Abijah Who fathered Asa and then Jehoshaphat Jehoram fathered Uzziah Who fathered Jotham Jotham, he fathered Ahaz, who was the father of Hezekiah
Manasseh, he fathered Amon (who fathered Josiah) And Jeconiah (and his brothers) amidst the exile Shealtiel fathered Zerubbabel (who fathered Abihud) Who fathered Eliakim (who fathered Azor), who fathered Zadok Zadok fathered Achim (who fathered Eliud), who fathered Eleazar (Who fathered Matthan) Who fathered Jacob
And Jacob was the father of Joseph And Joseph took a virgin for his wife And Mary was the one who gave birth to the Son of God (Mary was the one who gave birth to the Son of God) Mary was the one who gave birth to the Son of God (Mary was the one who gave birth)
And his name is Jesus And his name is Jesus And his name is Jesus And his name is Jesus Who is called the Christ (Jesus) Wonderful Counselor (And his name is Jesus) Almighty God, the everlasting Father (And his name is Jesus) Prince of Peace, Almighty God (And his name is Jesus) Who is called the Christ
Who knew a sung genealogy could be so captivating? Jesse and Leah Roberts are a married couple from Missouri who write, sing, and record songs together as Poor Bishop Hooper. The lyrics of “Christ”—a list of Jesus’s ancestors—come straight from Matthew 1. This recording from their home studio premiered at the virtual Songs for Hope: A TGC Advent Concert on December 6, 2020.
ART SERIES: Pallay: Andean Weaving of Liturgy and Design by Daniela Améstegui: Daniela Améstegui is a graphic designer from Cochabamba, Bolivia, who holds a master’s degree in theological studies from Regent College in Vancouver, with a specialization in Christianity and the arts. Her work “revolves around exploring faith, social justice, and Christian contextualization through design” and “reflects her commitment to using design as a tool for expressing and exploring theological concepts,” she says. She currently lives in Langley, British Columbia, with her husband and two young children, working as a freelancer.
Améstegui’s final Integrative Project in the Arts and Theology for her master’s program was Pallay: Andean Weaving of Liturgy and Design, a series of seven digital illustrations, one for each of the major seasons/feasts of the liturgical year: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and Ordinary Time. The designs are inspired by Andean textile art and culture. You can view the full series at the link above from Regent College’s Dal Schindell Gallery, where the works were first exhibited in early 2022, but also listen to this wonderful online talk Améstegui gave about Pallay in 2020 for INFEMIT’s Stott-Bediako Forum, where she discusses not only her motivation and influences but also the content of each specific piece:
Whereas those of us in the northern hemisphere associate Advent with cold, darkness, and the onset of winter, in the southern hemisphere Advent falls in early summer, a time when the earth is most fertile and farmers plant their seeds. In her Advent design, Améstegui connects Mary carrying the seed of new life within her with Pachamama (Mother Earth).
Daniela Améstegui (Bolivian, 1990–), Adviento (Advent), 2019–20, from the digital illustration series Pallay: Andean Weaving of Liturgy and Design. Used with permission.
In Bolivia, Christmas takes place during a season of harvest, so in her Christmas design, Améstegui places Jesus in the center between crops of corn and quinoa, the two main agricultural foods cultivated in the country. Mary wears braids and a bowler hat and Joseph plays the zampoña (Andean panflute), and at the bottom three cholitas, Indigenous women from the Bolivian countryside, gather reverently to greet the Christ child.
Daniela Améstegui (Bolivian, 1990–), Navidad (Christmas), 2019–20, from the digital illustration series Pallay: Andean Weaving of Liturgy and Design. Used with permission.
Améstegui does not have a website just yet but tells me she plans to launch one in 2025. If you would like to purchase one or more of her Pallay pieces, you can contact her at daniela@amestegui.com.
Thank you to blog reader Nicole J. for alerting me to this striking series!
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VIDEO COLLECTION: Casa del Catequista (CADECA) chapel paintings: As chance would have it, the same week I learned about Daniela Améstegui’s work, a different blog reader, Mark M., emailed me a link to some videos his Langham Partnership colleague Paul Windsor took during a recent trip to Bolivia. They record the many paintings, most by the late Quechua artist Severino Blanco [previously], inside the chapel of CADECA in Cochabamba, a place where men and women are trained as Christian leaders who then go out to serve their rural communities. They portray scenes from the Old and New Testaments, the parables of Jesus, and Latin American church history, including a remarkable liberation theology–inspired Resurrection, in which Jesus breaks down the doors of death and hell, holding high a cacique’s staff and leading the people of Bolivia into their future. Here’s a 360-degree view captured by Windsor, but visit the boldface link to see additional videos that narrow in on particular portions.
Severino Blanco (Quechua [Bolivian], 1951–2020), Infancy of Christ painting cycle, 1985. Chapel of the Casa del Catequista (CADECA), Cochabamba, Bolivia.
On the west end of the chapel (where people enter the space) is an Infancy of Christ cycle—reproduced here from a scan of a pamphlet, it appears. In the center is a Nativity, the Christ child painted over a pane of glass through which natural light comes gleaming in (see a closer view). The oblong shapes radiating out from the center are also glass, onto which the artist has (I think) etched lambs in various stages of prostration. On the sides, two villagers come with hot water and towels, and at the bottom two shepherds kneel before the Savior, removing their hats as a sign of respect. At the top, a host of angels with rainbow-colored wings and indigenous instruments sing Christ’s praises.
To the left of the Nativity are six scenes: (1) The Annunciation to Mary, (2) The Visitation, (3) The Annunciation to Zechariah, (4) The Journey to Bethlehem, (5) No Room at the Inn, and (6) The Flight to Egypt. To the right are (7) The Annunciation to the Shepherds, (8) The Annunciation to Joseph, (9) The Presentation in the Temple, (10) The Adoration of the Magi, (11) Jesus with the Scholars in the Temple, and (12) The Massacre of the Innocents.
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SONGS:
>> “Admirable Consejero” (Wonderful Counselor) by Santiago Benavides:Santiago Benavides is a Colombian singer-songwriter living in Toronto. On his Facebook page he describes his musical style as “trova-pop-bossa-carranga worship.” This song he wrote is a setting of Isaiah 9:2, 6–7 in Spanish. In the video, he’s the guitarist with the red-tinted glasses.
>> “The Word Became Flesh” by John Millea: John Millea is “a storyteller with a guitar,” singing in the tradition of Americana, folk, and gospel “about life and all of its joys, sorrows, and struggles.” He’s one of the artists I support through Patreon. This was the first song of his I encountered, and it’s one of my favorites, engaging with John 1:1–3, 14 in a wholly unique way!
In contrast to everyone and everything else in the universe, Millea explains, God had no beginning point, and all that is can in some way be traced back to him, the first link in a massive chain of cause and effect. So here Millea playfully traces his guitar all the way back to God—from the store he bought it at in Illinois, to the factory in Pennsylvania they ordered it from, to the mill in Washington that supplied the wood, to the Alaskan forests whence the tree was logged, and so on and so forth, imagining many thousands of years of fallen and dispersed tree seeds that traversed seas and continents, with an ultimate source in a tree planted in Eden by the Word of God.
When he hits on Eden, he starts moving forward again, through the story of creation, fall, and redemption in Christ, the divine beginningless One who graciously and mysteriously entered human history, born of a woman named Mary.
>> “Mary Had a Baby”: Arranged by Roland Carter, this African American spiritual is performed by the Nathaniel Dett Chorale, featuring the amazing mezzo-soprano Melissa Davis. It’s from their 2003 album An Indigo Christmas, the tracks taken from two live concerts given at the Church of St. George the Martyr in Toronto.
>> “Що то за предиво” (Shcho to za predyvo) (Behold a Miracle): This Ukrainian folk carol is performed by Trioda (Тріода), a musical group consisting of Andrii Gambal, Volodymyr Rybak, and Pavel Chervinskyi.
What is this awe-inspiring miracle? There is great news on earth! That the Virgin Mary gave birth to a son. And upon birthing him, she declared, “Jesus—my son!”
And the aging Joseph stands nearby in awe Of Mary having given birth to a son. And he prepares the swaddling for Jesus Christ. And Mary swaddles him, and scoops him to her heart— The pure Virgin Mary!
LOOK: Journey to Bethlehem mosaic from the former Chora Church
Joseph’s Dream and the Journey to Bethlehem, 1315–20. Mosaic, outer narthex, Kariye Camii (Chora Mosque) (formerly Chora Church), Istanbul, Turkey.
Among the finest artworks of the Palaeologan Renaissance, this Late Byzantine mosaic is in the lunette directly above the north door of a thirteenth-century church in Istanbul (formerly Constantinople), through which the clergy would have entered. It shows on the left an angel appearing to Joseph in a dream to corroborate Mary’s story of the miraculous conception of the son in her womb, and on the right the couple traveling to Bethlehem to register for the census, their donkey led by one of Joseph’s sons from a previous marriage (an apocryphal character from the Protoevangelium of James 17:1–2 and the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew 13). I believe the scene in the middle background is the Visitation, in which Mary visits her older cousin Elizabeth in the hill country for support during her early months of pregnancy.
The building the mosaic was made for has changed possession and uses over the centuries. Originally a Byzantine church called the Church of the Holy Savior at Chora, it was converted to a mosque in 1511, over a half century after the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople. Because of the important cultural heritage it contains—namely, its Christian mosaics and frescoes—the secular Turkish Republic turned it into a museum in 1945 by court decree. In 2019 that decree was overturned, and the following year it was reconsecrated as a mosque.
It just reopened to the public May 6 of this year. Visitors are allowed daily, excluding Fridays, from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. except during Muslim prayer times, which vary based on the sun but last for an hour in the early afternoon and an hour in the late afternoon. During prayer, the mosaics and frescoes in the “naos” (nave) are covered with curtains to honor the prohibition in the hadith against visual representations of human beings. But the images in the exonarthex, like the one shown here, remain uncovered at all times.
LISTEN: “Lift Up Your Heads” (original title: “Macht hoch die Tür”) | Original German words by Georg Weissel, 1623; translated into English by Catherine Winkworth, 1855 | Tune: TRURO, Anon., from Thomas Williams’s Psalmodia Evangelica, 1789 | Performed by Sufjan Stevens and friends on Silver & Gold, 2012
1. Lift up your heads, ye mighty gates! Behold, the King of Glory waits; The King of kings is drawing near, The Savior of the world is here. Life and salvation he doth bring, Wherefore rejoice and gladly sing: We praise thee, Father, now, Creator, wise art thou!
2. A Helper just he comes to thee, His chariot is humility, His kingly crown is holiness, His scepter, pity in distress, The end of all our woe he brings; Wherefore the earth is glad and sings: We praise thee, Savior, now, Mighty in deed art thou!
3. O blest the land, the city blest, Where Christ the Ruler is confessed! O happy hearts and happy homes To whom this King in triumph comes! The cloudless Sun of joy he is, Who bringeth pure delight and bliss. We praise thee, Spirit, now, Our Comforter art thou!
4. Fling wide the portals of your heart; Make it a temple set apart From earthly use for heaven’s employ, Adorned with prayer and love and joy. So shall your Sovereign enter in And new and nobler life begin. To thee, O God, be praise For word and deed and grace!
5. Redeemer, come! I open wide My heart to thee; here, Lord, abide! Let me thy inner presence feel, Thy grace and love in me reveal; Thy Holy Spirit guide us on Until our glorious goal is won! Eternal praise and fame We offer to Thy name!
Georg Weissel (1590–1635) was a German Lutheran minister and hymn writer. He wrote “Macht hoch die Tür” (Lift Up Your Heads) in 1623 for the dedication, during Advent, of the newly built Altroßgärter Kirche in Konigsberg, where he served as pastor until his death. The hymn is rooted in Psalm 24, especially verses 9–10:
Lift up your heads, O gates! and be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in! Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts, he is the King of glory. Selah
Likely written by King David on the occasion of the ark of the covenant’s coming to Jerusalem after being taken back from the Philistines (2 Sam. 6), this psalm directs its hearers to open wide the city gates to welcome in God’s presence, symbolized by this precious gold-plated chest. In his hymn, Weissel turns this directive into a metaphor, telling worshippers to open the gates of their hearts so that God can enter in and abide there.
Weissel’s hymn has an odd meter of 88.88.88.66—six lines of eight syllables, followed by two lines of six syllables. Many hymnals of the past century have modified the hymn’s structure to create four-line stanzas instead, each line of equal measure, nixing the shorter ending couplets and combining what remains.
On his 2012 Christmas album, Silver & Gold, Sufjan Stevens and a small vocal ensemble sing what in the original hymn is stanzas 1a and 3a. The group sings the four-part harmonies to a simple piano accompaniment for the first verse and a cappella the second.
For a contemporary arrangement that covers more lyrical ground, see Josh Bales’s 2018 recording of the hymn, from his album Come Away from Rush and Hurry:
I’ve paired this hymn with an artwork of the Journey to Bethlehem to show how “the King of kings is drawing near,” bringing life and salvation. Will you “fling wide the portals of your heart” to receive him?
Jyoti Sahi (Indian, 1944–), Beulah, 2018. Oil and acrylic on canvas, 5 × 4 ft. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
In Isaiah 62:2–5, God talks to Zion about her future. He says that on the day of the Lord,
The nations shall see your vindication and all the kings your glory, and you shall be called by a new name that the mouth of the LORD will give. You shall be a beautiful crown in the hand of the LORD and a royal diadem in the hand of your God. You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate, but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her and your land Married, for the Lord delights in you, and your land shall be married. For as a young man marries a young woman, so shall your builder marry you, and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.
The painting Beulah by the Indian Christian artist Jyoti Sahi (pictured below) takes its title from the Hebrew word for “married” that’s used in Isaiah 62:4. He told me the image pictures the coming together of heaven and earth, the sun marrying the land, which can also be read as Christ uniting with his bride. Christ comes as dawn, his head like flame, like the great I AM revealed to Moses in the burning bush. His glory, the yellow halo around his head, encompasses the female figure. He leans in, tenderly resting his head on hers, and their hands touch.
Beulah shows the reunion not only of humanity and the Divine at the end of time, but also of the land and the Divine. As the Isaiah passage states, the earth, too, will be redeemed and made to flourish once again.
The two figures here form a sacred mountain. A river of life flows down between them, watering the new city, which is a wilderness no longer. This is Isaiah’s vision wrapped up into John the Revelator’s.
Jyoti Sahi touches up a detail of his painting Beulah. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
LISTEN: “The Reign of Mercy” by Kate Bluett and Paul Zach, 2021 | Performed by Paul Zach and Lauren Plank Goans on Advent Songs by the Porter’s Gate, 2021
Oh may our world at last be just And hilltops echo with your peace A harvest come from barren dust The reign of mercy never cease He comes as rain upon the grass High heaven’s sun to earth descends Not as the seasons that will pass But with a light that never ends
Oh come to him and find your rest Who saw the poor and came as one Who hears the cries of the oppressed And rules till all oppression’s done Someday he’ll come to reign as king And we will see his justice done Our souls will magnify and sing The Christ whose kingdom now is come
And all the mighty and the strong Will bow before him on that day The silenced fill the world with song The poor and lowly he will raise And all our bitterness and tears Our violence and our endless wars Will end at last when he draws near Come soon, come soon, oh Christ our Lord
Purvis Young (American, 1943–2010), Untitled, 1990s. Paint on fiberboard, 65 1/16 × 47 5/8 in. (165.3 × 121 cm). Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture, Washington, DC. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
From the gallery label at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture, where I first encountered this painting in 2019:
Purvis Young was a long-time resident of Overtown, a Black neighborhood in Miami, Florida. He began drawing while in jail, after a vision led him to embrace the idea of becoming an artist. He educated himself about the history of art, and focused on a daily routine of making art, much of it on public surfaces and walls. In Untitled, as in much of Young’s work, angels and horses are prominently featured; angels represent goodness and horses represent freedom. Just as he had found salvation through art, he hoped his own art would bring harmony to his neighborhood, and to the world.
In the foreground of the painting, four angels look onto a scene of what appears to be celebration. Myriad figures hold aloft circular items—tambourines? halos? Is this the gathering of saints in heaven, where goodness and freedom abound?
Kama simcha yesh bevetcha, kshe’kulam sharim beyachad Al shehaya al sheyieh ve’al kol she’Ata oseh Hayu yamim tovim yoter, ach le’olam lo nevater Al hasimcha ha’arucha, she’od tavo ken hi tavo
Im lo nashir unehalel ha’avanim lo ishteku Kol habria lecha koret, baruch haba Maran Ata Bein im od shana o od me’ah, lecha namtin betsipia Hu she’ala, gam od yered ve’az tatchil hachagiga [Refrain]
Outro: Hineh ma tov uma naim, kshe’kulanu mehalelim Sharim beyachad le’Elohim, kol echad hu chelek, kulam bifnim
ENGLISH TRANSLATION:
There’s so much joy in Your home, when everyone is singing About what was, and what will be, and about everything You’re doing There were better days, but we’ll never give up On the joy that has been prepared, that will come, yes, joy will come
Refrain: Lift up your hands; we’re celebrating before Yeshua [Jesus] We’ll see Your goodness in heaven, but also in the land of the living We’ll lift our voices to the heavens, filling them with song We’ll celebrate as a family, when we come again into Your home
If we won’t sing and worship, the stones will not remain silent All of creation is calling for You, “Blessed are You! Come, Lord. Maranatha.” Whether it takes a year or a hundred, we’ll wait for You with expectancy He who ascended will descend again, and then our celebration will start [Refrain]
Outro: How good and pleasant it is, when all of us worship Singing together to God, everyone takes part, everybody is in
Shilo Ben Hod is a Messianic Jewish worship leader from Israel. He sings this song of his in Hebrew with his wife, Sarah, and other family and friends.
Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.
—Isaiah 60:1
But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.
—Malachi 4:2a
LOOK: Christ as Sol Invictus, Early Christian mosaic
Christ as Sol Invictus, late 3rd or early 4th century. Mosaic from the Tomb of the Julii (Mausoleum “M”), Vatican Necropolis, under St. Peter’s Basilica, Rome. Photo: Tyler Bell.
This ceiling mosaic from an ancient Roman mausoleum built for one Julius Tarpeianus and his family contains an extraordinary depiction of Jesus Christ modeled after the sun-god Sol Invictus, who was sometimes identified with Helios, Apollo, or Mithras. It’s one of many surviving examples of how the early Christians appropriated pagan iconography for their own use, communicating the sacred stories and truths of the new faith—in this case, Jesus as the light of the world.
Buried beneath St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City, the mausoleum was first discovered in 1574 when a workman conducting floor alterations on the cathedral accidentally broke through. A larger hole was then drilled to gain access, which is why this mosaic on its vault is partially destroyed.
The mosaic shows a male figure wearing a radial crown and wheeling through the sky in a quadriga (four-horse chariot)—though just two of the horses survive. He holds an orb, symbolic of his dominion over the earth, and is dressed in a tunic and a windswept cloak. His other hand, missing due to the damage, may have been making a blessing gesture. He sends forth rays in all directions, lighting up the sky with a golden sheen. Grapevine tendrils unfurl all around him, symbolic of life and especially the life-giving Eucharist.
Most scholars identify the image as Christian and read the figure on the sun-wagon as Christ, though this is debated. Other images in the mausoleum are of a fisherman, a shepherd, and a man being swallowed by a sea-monster (e.g., Jonah)—all of which appear in both pagan and Christian funerary contexts in that era.
That December 25 was the birthday of Sol Invictus (and Mithras, a Persian sun-god whose cult gained popularity in Rome in the third century) likely factored into the church choosing that date for the annual celebration of Jesus’s birth. In his book Living the Christian Year: Time to Inhabit the Story of God, Bobby Gross, the vice president for graduate and faculty ministries for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, writes,
Worship of the sun has a long history in ancient cultures. The Roman emperor Aurelian, who apparently wanted to unite the empire around a common religion, instituted the cult of Sol Invictus, the “Unconquered Sun,” in 274 and declared the day of the winter solstice, December 25, as the birthday and feast of the sun-god. [The official date of the winter solstice in the Roman Empire would change to December 21 when the Council of Nicaea adjusted the Julian calendar in 325.] The earliest evidence of Christians in Rome celebrating Christ’s nativity on December 25 appears later in 336. Many scholars conclude that the church purposefully countered the pagan festival by adopting its date for their celebration of the birth of “the sun of righteousness” (Mal. 4:2). This cultural appropriation became an implicit witness to the truly unconquerable light. (66–67)
Other scholars argue that December 25 was chosen because the Feast of the Annunciation—celebrating the miraculous conception of Christ in Mary’s womb—had already been fixed on March 25, the spring equinox, and if you count forward nine months (the average human gestation period), you land on December 25.
These two theories of the dating of Christmas are not mutually exclusive. Christ’s birth was and is celebrated in Rome as a festival of light, so it makes sense that Christians there would mark that birth on the date when the daylight hours first start to grow longer. (Just as it makes sense that his conception was placed in springtime, reflecting the flowering of new life.) Jesus came to us in the depths of our darkness, bringing light. The winter solstice is not an intrinsically pagan event—it’s a natural one, which religions of all kinds find meaning in, not to mention the practicality in ancient societies of marking time by the courses of the sun and the moon.
Many of the church fathers wrote about Jesus as light-bringer and as Light itself. In chapter 11 of his Protrepticus pros Hellenas (Exhortation to the Greeks), written around 200 CE, Clement of Alexandria glories in the light of Christ that extends over all of creation, banishing the darkness. The chapter is editorially titled “How great are the benefits conferred on humanity through the advent of Christ”:
Hail, O light! For in us, buried in darkness, shut up in the shadow of death, light has shone forth from heaven, purer than the sun, sweeter than life here below. That light is eternal life; and whatever partakes of it lives. But night fears the light, and hiding itself in terror, gives place to the day of the Lord. Sleepless light is now over all, and sunset has turned into dawn. This is the meaning of the new creation; for the Sun of Righteousness, who drives his chariot over all, pervades equally all humanity, like his Father, who makes his sun to rise on everyone, and distills on them the dew of the truth. (translated from the Greek by William Wilson, adapt.; emphasis mine)
In chapter 9 of the same work, Clement expounds on Ephesians 5:14, writing, “Awake, he says, you that sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light—Christ, the Sun of the Resurrection, he who was born before the morning star, and with his beams bestows life.”
Similarly, Ambrose of Milan refers to Christ as “the true sun” in his Latin hymn “Splendor paternae gloriae,” written in the second half of the fourth century:
O splendor of God’s glory bright, O Thou that bringest light from light, O Light of Light, light’s Living Spring, O Day, all days illumining.
O Thou true Sun, on us Thy glance let fall in royal radiance, the Spirit’s sanctifying beam upon our earthly senses stream.
Morn in her rosy car is borne: let Him come forth our Perfect Morn, the Word in God the Father One, the Father perfect in the Son. Amen.
Trans. Robert Bridges
Some Christians may feel uncomfortable with Christ’s being made to resemble a pagan deity in the Vatican Necropolis mosaic, or with the suggestion that the church saw fit to celebrate Christ’s birth on the same day Sol Invictus, the “Invincible Sun,” was said to be born. As for myself, I feel no such qualms. Just as the apostle Paul affirmatively quoted the pagan poets Epimenides and Aratus in his Areopagus sermon to reveal the truth of Christ (Acts 17:28), so too can we recognize connection points between our own faith tradition and others, which often reveal common yearnings we share—for example, for light that the darkness cannot overcome.
It’s then for us to articulate what makes Christ, who is such a light, distinct from those who came before and after. He is true God and true man, born miraculously of a virgin in first-century Judaea. He knows our sorrows intimately, because he was one of us—he made himself vulnerable. He taught people how to live as citizens of the kingdom of heaven. For that he was crucified, but he conquered death, rising from the grave and ascending to the right hand of the Father, where he lives and intercedes for us. He will come again to restore us to our true home. This, the story of Christ, is what C. S. Lewis called “a true myth.”
Suggestions for further reading:
Robin Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art, 2nd ed. (London and New York: Routledge, 2023)
Kurt Weitzmann, ed., Age of Spirituality: Late Antique and Early Christian Art, Third to Seventh Century (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art; Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1979) (available to read online for free)
>> Performed by the Fisk Jubilee Singers, dir. Paul T. Kwami, feat. Briana Barbour, 2016:
>> Performed by the William Appling Singers on Shall We Gather, 2001:
Refrain: Rise, shine, for thy light is a-comin’ Rise, shine, for thy light is a-comin’ Rise, shine, for thy light is a-comin’ My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by
This is the year of Jubilee (My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by) My Lord has set his people free (My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by) [Refrain]
I intend to shout and never stop (My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by) Until I reach the mountaintop (My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by) [Refrain]
Wet or dry, I intend to try (My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by) To serve the Lord until I die (My Lord says he’s comin’ by and by) [Refrain]
This song originated in enslaved African American communities in the southern US in the first half of the nineteenth century. They composed spirituals as a way to hold on to hope amid the suffering inflicted on them by their enslavers.
The spirituals often hold double meanings, with words like “salvation,” “deliverance,” and “freedom” referring to God’s acts toward the soul and the body. So “freedom,” on the one hand, can mean freedom from sin and eternal death, but it can also mean freedom from physical bondage. “Light” could be the light of the world, Jesus, returning to consummate his kingdom on earth, and it could be the lantern of an Underground Railroad conductor, come to guide you up north to liberation.
The “year of Jubilee” in the first verse refers to the Jubilee law of ancient Israel, which dictates that every fifty years, the enslaved are to be set free (see Leviticus 25). “Wet” in the last verse may refer to how some enslaved people tried to escape by crossing rivers.
“Rise, Shine, for Thy Light Is a-Comin’” exhorts its hearers to take heart, for the sun of righteousness is on its way.
Art & Theology 