O magnum mysterium,
et admirabile sacramentum,
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,
jacentem in praesepio!
Beata Virgo, cujus viscera
Dominum Christum. Alleluia!
O great mystery,
and wonderful sacrament,
that animals should see the new-born Lord
lying in a manger!
Blessed is the Virgin whose womb
was worthy to bear
Christ the Lord. Alleluia!
What a wonderful Creator we have! What a splendid, humble Savior we claim as our own! What a miracle is this! That a Savior should be born to us, given to us, as an infant dependent on His mother. That thousands of years later, I receive Him as my Lord and King, my own Savior, my own Beloved. That His eyes are still looking upon me. That He is still really present. That He has still revealed Himself to His people, that His heart is still longing to draw all our hearts to itself. That we are made for one thing alone: to adore Him as these wise and powerful men once did. That we believe it a ridiculous thing, a self-conscious thing, to throw ourselves at the feet of a baby in adoration—the world calls it a folly and laughs at it and squelches its power over their hearts. Yet their souls—our souls—gasp in recognition of this ridiculous sight. For it is the least foolish thing we could do, it is the one thing we were meant to do. We are made for adoration, both of body and of soul, and we do nothing more fitting for our humanity than to prostrate ourselves before the Savior Who loves us more than we can even fathom.
Though there may be questions in my heart, though I may grow weary, or restless, or doubtful, this is a time of consolation. I know that. Why? How? Because God is present…I can see his presence. I acknowledge with total faith that He is working in my life. Were I desolate right now, I could not so quickly or easily recognize His love marking every day out for me. He is tracing the minutes of my day in His loving blessings, as He traces the shape of my face in His gaze. I know I am loved. And such knowledge gives me a blessing and a power I did not own. It is the blessing and the power of the adorer. We fall down and lay these crowns of blessing and power, the crowns our King of Love has fashioned for us, we lay them at His own two feet. And He will pick them up and crown us again, for we cannot give ourselves any glory. The glory must be a grace, not a privilege earned or a prize held as our own by right. O great mystery, that our poverty only draws us closer to His loving arms.