December 5 - by: our very own Michael Mastronicola

When my godson Dawson Ditta was baptized as a newborn in 1998, the pastor held him up after pouring water upon his forehead and proclaimed, with her arms extended outward, “Dawson Ditta—child of God!” Child of God. What a beautiful phrase, I thought. In the film, Dead Man Walking, the main character is based upon a real-life nun, Sister Helen Prajean, who counsels a convicted murderer on death row. Just before he is to be lethally injected as punishment for his crime, Sister Prajean desperately counsels him in an effort to have him take responsibility for his awful crimes and realize the agony he has caused so many others. “You are a son of God,” she tells him. He responds, visibly moved, that no one ever called him that before. Child of God. I like that phrase. I am a child of God. We are all “children of God.”
Jesus mentions children in the Gospels: “Let the children come to me,” he says. (Mt: 19) And also: “Become like children and you will enter the Kingdom of God.” (Mt: 18) I imagine it wasn’t easy being a child in the time of Jesus. Throughout our world, so many children today still suffer terribly. It all seems so needless and awful. During a friendly discussion I had with friends awhile ago, one person remarked, “The Old Testament always seems to be about such an angry, vengeful God. It’s hard for me to read it and understand what it’s all about.” Another friend responded, “Look at it this way: the New Testament happened when the world of the Old Testament became so foul, so messed up. Things weren’t working any more. So God’s son was sent to be among us, to show us another way: a way not of vengeance and anger, but of justice and peace.”

Jesus was also a child of God. Like us, but of course very different. And Jesus came to us with little fanfare. Take away the angel Gabriel that heralded Jesus’ birth to Mary in the Gospel of Luke, and you basically have one very surprised and very young woman. No earthquakes or parties. No Christmas lights and endlessly repeating carols. There was no earthly crown or feast that celebrated Jesus’ arrival. No trumpet fanfare. The Son of God born in a stable? Born among the animals? Whatever the details may be, Jesus was not born amidst wealth and power.

During this time of year, I realize how lucky I am to be a musician. There is so much wonderful music I get to play year after year—in worship and concerts throughout the month of December. One of my favorite Christmas texts often set to music is “O Greatest of Mysteries.”* The text, in Latin, has been sung by choirs for centuries in churches and on stages throughout the world. The choir sings, “O great mystery, and wonderful sacrament, that animals should see the newborn Lord, lying in a manger.” Animals glimpse the newborn Christ! Ox and ass. I imagine them bowing their heads to sniff the newborn. Composers have set these words not to loud and triumphant harmonies, but to hushed whispers that draw the listener in. I wonder about this sometimes to myself on cold, clear December nights as I drive home from work and look up at a starry sky. Animals get to see this child of God? Animals?! In a manger?! What an extraordinary mystery that we get to ponder year after year after year. God sends His son to be born among the animals. A child of God. Born to us. Born for all people.

Michael Mastronicola, Director of Music

“God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” –Luke 1: 52-53, “Mary’s Song”


*To hear a choir sing one composer’s setting of this ancient text, “O Magnum Mysterium,” visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iss5a8BqYw0&feature=related.