A nativity for all people

Unknown artist: Nativity (in the manner of  Hieronimus Bosch) (c. 1550 - c. 1600 oil on panel, 58cm × 76 cm; Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum) 

What are the key elements of a nativity scene?   

·      the infant Jesus in a manger

·      Mary and Joseph

·      angels

·      a rickety structure to indicate a stable

·      a star

·      shepherds, perhaps with a lamb or a well-behaved dog

·      Magi with gifts, arriving early for Epiphany

·      an ox and an ass

Which of these iconographic elements, apart from the baby in the manger, has the longest historical pedigree?  

It may be surprising to find that the answer is: the ox and the ass.     Even before Mary and Joseph are depicted at the manger, we have Roman carvings showing Jesus, tightly wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger, attended by an ox and an ass.   The earliest example is on a Roman sarcophagus dated to about 330–350 AD, only just after Constantine had made it safe to be Christian in public, and probably round the time when the church settled on 25 December as the date to celebrate the nativity.[1]

We know nothing about Marcus Claudianus, the occupant of the sarcophagus, other than that he must have been wealthy to have commissioned such a tomb.  And he clearly had a solid hope in Christ:  the base of the sarcophagus includes representations of Jesus’ miracles of bread and wine in the centre, and, to the right, the healing of a blind man and the resurrection of Lazarus, particularly relevant to the context.

But of special interest to us is, on the left-hand end of the lid, a depiction of the nativity:  a figure, perhaps a shepherd, stands next to a crib, in which a tightly-swaddled baby is attended by a donkey and an ox.   A second example is found, dating from a few decades later, in a sarcophagus in the church of Sant’Ambrogio in Milan.   Again, a tightly swaddled child lies observed by a rather more crudely depicted ox and ass.

There is no specific reference to an ox or ass in the Gospel accounts of the birth of Jesus.   Luke’s account refers to Jesus being laid in a manger, so at least the presence of domestic animals is implied, but the specifics are omitted.  And in any case, one would assume that, the manger having been commandeered for other purposes, the animals would have been ushered out of the picture.

But why always and specifically an ox and an ass, and never, for instance, a sheep or a horse?     There are two main, and intertwining, explanations for their significance.   The first is that they refer to the opening lines of Isaiah, where he calls out the disobedience of Israel: 

‘The ox knows its master,
    the donkey its owner’s manger,
but Israel does not know,
    my people do not understand.’ (Isaiah 1:3) 

We know this was applied in the church’s teaching from the contemporary writing of Gregory of Nazianus (329–90) in his 38th Oration “Isaiah calls to you to know your owner, like the ox, and to know the manger of your Lord, like the donkey.”[2]

The second draws on the Old Testament food laws, which declared the ox to be a clean animal, and the ass unclean.  Although such distinctions were intended to help Israel serve as a light to the Gentiles by discriminating between good and evil, the Jews came to despite Gentiles as themselves unclean, resulting in a social division as great as any in all human history.  The presence now of a clean animal and an unclean one together at the birth of Jesus points to the staggering achievement of Jesus in his death and resurrection, dissolving the deepest of human conflicts in his one great kingdom. 

By the time the sarcophagus was made, the two themes had already become intertwined.  For instance, Origen of Alexandria (d. 251), expounding Luke’s account of the nativity, wrote: 

That was the manger of which the inspired prophet said, “The ox knows his owner and the ass his master’s manger.” The ox is a clean animal, the ass an unclean animal. The ass knows his master’s manger.  The people of Israel did not know their Lord’s manger, but an unclean animal from among the Gentiles did.[3]

Later, Augustine of Hippo, preaching one Feast of Epiphany, went further to connect the ox and ass with the shepherds and the Magi: 

In the persons of the shepherds and of the Magi, the ox began to recognize his owner and the ass his Master’s crib. From the Jews came the horned ox, since among them the horns of the cross were prepared for Christ; from the Gentiles came the long-eared ass, since it was concerning them that the prophecy had been made: “A people, which I knew not, hath served me: at the hearing of the ear they have obeyed me.” For the Owner of the ox and the Master of the ass lay in a manger, yet He was furnishing common sustenance to both creatures.[4]

Ever after, no nativity scene has been complete without ox and ass.  Sometimes they are humbly and discreetly present, dumb animals paying little or no attention to the main event.  Other times, as in the delightful Nativity by an unknown artist now in the Rijksmuseum, they push their way forward to be front and centre, and could indeed be recognizing their master and creator.  Sometimes they are even shown licking Jesus, seeming, as Augustine suggests, to be metaphorically feeding on Christ instead of literally on the straw. 

One can imagine the profound effect the Gospel had on Marcus Claudianus: that in His death and resurrection Jesus had overcome the barriers between Marcus, presumably a Gentile, and the Jews; as indeed between all such human divisions, between slaves and free, men and women, old and young, black and white, left and right, building one people for God, across all nations, tribes and tongues. 

For Gentiles like me, it is touching to see the donkey, standing at the back of the nativity scene, or even nosing his way to the front, remembering that that is me:  formerly unclean, excluded and (with apologies to donkey lovers) not very bright, now by the grace of God brought out of darkness into the light, into wisdom and understanding, into the people and family of God and a sure hope of acceptance with Him and resurrection to eternal life. 

As Origen concludes the passage quoted above:   

Let us understand this manger. Let us endeavour to recognise the Lord and to be worthy of knowing him, and of taking on not only his birth and the resurrection of his flesh, but also his celebrated second coming in majesty, to whom is glory and power for ages and ages. Amen

[1] The first literary reference to Christmas being celebrated on 25 December was in 336AD.  See Ronald Huggins:  ‘The ox and the donkey’, Midwestern Journal of Theology 9.2 (Fall 2010), pp. 179–93.

[2] Cited in Huggins, p. 182.

[3] Origen, Homilies on Luke 13.17, cited by Huggins, p. 183.

[4] Augustine, Sermon 204 (ET: Saint Augustine, Sermons on the Liturgical Seasons [FC 38; trans. Sister Mary Sarah Muldowney, R. S. M.; New York: Fathers of the Church, 1959], 79-80), cited by Huggins, p. 193. 

[First published by ArtWay, 8 December 2024. To subscribe to the weekly ArtWay visual meditations, or view other articles in the series, go to www.artway.eu.]