The Nativity Angel

One angel, then an army

Luke’s account tells it in two steps.

In verse 9, an angel of the Lord (singular, no article) appears to the shepherds. In verse 10, it’s the angel, the same one, who tells them not to be afraid. Then, the Greek text of verse 13 reads: “with the angel, a multitude of the heavenly host.”

Two things stand out. First, the crowd of angels joins the first angel rather than replacing him: the text makes a point of saying “with the angel.” Second, and more interesting, it isn’t the first angel who sings the Gloria. He makes the announcement, and the heavenly choir sings the praise. We cover the song, its translations and its place at Mass on the Gloria in excelsis Deo page.

From the angels’ cry to the hymn

The angels’ song fits on one line: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men…” How that sentence ends is one of the most debated questions in New Testament scholarship.

Depending on the manuscripts, you read eudokias, in the genitive (“to men of his good pleasure,” that is, those God favors) or eudokia, in the nominative (“peace on earth, good will toward men”). The great ancient manuscripts and the critical editions keep the genitive, which the Vulgate follows (hominibus bonae voluntatis), and after it the New American Bible: “and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests,” and the Gloria at Mass: “peace to people of good will.” The King James wording, peace on earth, good will toward men, follows the other reading.

The banner in our nativity scenes almost always carries the short Latin version, Gloria in excelsis Deo, which neatly stops before the tricky part.

As for what became of these words in the liturgy, it’s less obvious than it looks. According to the history of the Gloria as a hymn, the Gloria wasn’t born a Christmas song: it was first a morning hymn, in Greek, found in the Apostolic Constitutions and the Codex Alexandrinus; tradition credits its Latin translation to Hilary of Poitiers, who died in 366. It entered the Roman Mass first at Christmas, and for the bishop alone, and it took more than seven centuries before an ordinary priest could say it outside that occasion.

Where the banner comes from

You’ll often read that the banner was invented by 18th-century Neapolitan nativity makers, or by Provençal santon makers. That’s off by several centuries.

An Italian Nativity from 1265–1274, at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, already shows red banners reading GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO in gold letters, above a reclining Virgin and eight angels. That’s more than five hundred years before the Neapolitan nativity scenes.

It’s called a phylactery, or speech scroll: the medieval way of making a painted figure speak, by giving it a ribbon with words on it. So your angel’s banner isn’t a regional decoration. It’s a 13th-century speech bubble.

Gabriel and the shepherds’ angel

People mix them up all the time, but the text is clear. Gabriel is named in chapter 1, when he appears to Zechariah and then to Mary. In chapter 2, the angel who appears to the shepherds isn’t named. Luke, who usually names his angels, doesn’t name this one.

Provençal tradition answers both ways: Antoine Maurel’s Pastorale gives the role to the Archangel Gabriel, while the santon figure is known as Boufarèu.

Boufarèu: the one who blows, with puffed-out cheeks

It’s a wonderfully down-to-earth name. Philippe Blanchet’s dictionary of the French spoken in Provence lists boufarèou: “one who blows,” used mainly for “the santon of the angel in Provençal crèches, shown with puffed-out cheeks,” and also for “chubby-cheeked children.” It comes from boufa, to blow, the same word people in Provence use on a windy day.

So a Boufarèu is both the one who blows his trumpet and the one with nice round cheeks to do it.

Where to hang it

High up, and first. He’s the only figure that doesn’t touch the ground, so he’s the only one you need to plan for while you build. A small hook, some clear fishing line, an attachment point in the stable’s roof beam: if you think of it too late, you’ll be taking things apart.

Above the stable, facing the shepherds. He’s bringing them news, so the direction he faces matters. An angel staring at the wall isn’t announcing anything.

High enough to be seen, low enough to be read. If he carries a banner, make sure people can read it from where they’ll be standing. See the stable and how to set up a nativity scene.

Frequently asked questions