TEARS OF AN ANGEL

TEARS OF AN ANGEL 

Many times I have heard the song O HOLY NIGHT, but I've never heard it sung so beautifully as at Christmas Eve Mass a few years ago.

Here at the Church of the Assumption  a   young lady named Chris, a singer from a small group of performers sang this song, so soft and gentle, delicate like a wisping flame of a candle. She sang like an angel, being lifted in spirit, as tears flowed down her face. The words came from deep within and as I listened, her voice of song, filled with tenderness and compassion, poured over me.

And there I was, in Bethlehem, in the dark of night, peering over little baby Jesus in the manger, kneeling in reverence as the sweetness of words filled the air: A New Born King, The Holy One. A holy night of remembrance. The radiance of the bright star draws us closer to embrace the birth of little baby Jesus. From this manger, the first steps of our own journey begin. The illumination of the bright star becomes a beacon, casting its light in our direction; the illumination of the Holy Spirit is awakened and, with a beam of spiritual enlightenment, opens our heart and soul to ingest the gifts of the Spirit from the manger. They become an inner dwelling of spiritual confinement within us, a reservoir of our Lord’s presence; with prayer and Eucharist it nourishes into compassionate embers—a love that burns and intensifies into a desire to be held in the Lord’s embrace. And with this fragrance of heart it is I, who reaches out to the angel, to the one who sings.

After the Mass, I went up to this young lady and beckoned to her. She came forward and as I embraced her, I spoke softly and said, “Thank you for singing O HOLY NIGHT. You sing like an angel.” I saw the stream of tears on her face and wiped them and said, “Your tears say it all,” and then kissed her on the cheek. She was still in an uplifted state of emotion and said, “Thank you. God bless you.” I thanked her, and moved away, and left for home.

I can tell you, when a performer such as this is overwhelmed into a state of compassionate tears, this is a grace from above, a genuine outpouring of purity of heart. To be touched and taken up in this realm of gifted moments is rare as heaven’s mist of grace pours out fragrant words of song. The elevation of a heart and soul—in these moments—is beyond our control to extinguish; it is a spiritual calling to excel into a beauty of ecstasy. The song O HOLY NIGHT is usually sung with enthusiasm in celebration of our Lord’s birth; but here, in unhurried whispered tones, the holy story unfolds with delicateness of a feather. The floatation of her words rested upon us, coated with the tears of an angel.

Indeed, this was, a Holy Night.

Robert J. Varrick 

rjvarrick@gmail.com