Blooming Wand

Winter Solstice Carols: The Sacred Mystery of Corpus Christi Carol & In the Bleak Midwinter

• Emily O'Neal • Season 3 • Episode 14

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Step into the quiet edge of the solstice with us as we sink into two haunting carols that reward slow listening: the medieval Corpus Christi Carol and Christina Rossetti’s In the Bleak Midwinter. What begins as cozy music for a dark evening opens into a layered meditation on wounds that do not close, love that does not boast, and the way paradox can hold more truth than tidy answers.

We start with the falcon, the orchard brown, and a knight who bleeds without end. From Eucharistic symbolism and the Easter Sepulchre to the Fisher King’s unhealed body and a land gone waste, we explore how this carol binds sacred ritual, mythic quest, and even Tudor politics into a single vigil. Benjamin Britten’s pairing and Jeff Buckley’s stark rendition show why the piece keeps returning: it asks us to keep watch, to ask better questions, and to honor pain we cannot fix.

Then we turn to Rossetti and Holst, where earth stands hard as iron and water like stone. Placing the Nativity in a frozen landscape is no mistake; it makes divine vulnerability immediate. Angels crowd the rafters, yet the scene narrows to a mother’s kiss and a simple, disarming answer to the question of what we can give: our hearts. No grandeur needed—just presence, attention, and the courage to remain open when life is cold and complex.

Along the way, we share journal prompts for mystery, sacred wounds, paradox, witnessing, and waiting—practical ways to let these songs work on you. If you’re craving a reflective pause, a thread through history, and a way to feel the sacred in ordinary moments, this conversation will meet you where you are. Subscribe, share with a friend who loves winter music, and leave a review telling us which lyric you’ll carry into the dark season.

The Corpus Christi Carol

Some YouTube Links to Have A Listen:

In the Bleak Midwinter

Some YouTube Links to Have A Listen:

https://www.bloomingwand.com
https://www.youtube.com/@bloomingwand_emilyoneal

SPEAKER_00:

Welcome to Blooming Wand, your home for grounded spiritual content. I'm Emily O'Neill, Evidential Psychic Medium, Intuitive Healer and Coach, and I want to first start by saying Solstice Tidings. This is our winter solstice episode, and I want to dive in to talking about songs for the dark season. I don't know about you, but when it's dark outside, I like to put on music, cozy up, and just kind of chill out and listen to some of my favorite songs. And I do have two that have really stood out for me this time of year that have kind of lent some mystery to my self-care and spiritual practices. They've got me thinking about things I wouldn't normally think about, which would be Jesus for one, because these songs do reference Jesus and just kind of some certain and very specific religious practices as well. But they also have these broad themes in them that really are mysterious and romantic and sad and kind of wondrous. And I do feel like I'm drawn to wonder and mystery during the dark time of year. So I, as I mentioned, as we approached this winter solstice time, I have found myself listening to the Corpus Christy Carroll and in the bleak midwinter. And I wanted to share what brings me back to these songs time and time again. Now, if you're listening or watching, I'm going to try to include some links to the songs in the show notes. For those of you that get the newsletter, you can find links right in the blog. That should be easy peasy for you to access. Just click the blog in the newsletter and it'll take you right to a full transcript of this episode as well as links. And but if that doesn't work, you could put them into any of your internet search engines and you'll find lots of recordings of these songs and lots of YouTube videos as well. I'm sharing YouTube links just as a heads up to you, but they're not hard to find, is what I'm trying to say. So whether you have the links or not, I do have a listen to the songs one way or the other. And I hope that you find them as captivating as I have. And if you've heard them before, listen to the lyrics and maybe listen with fresh eyes. Maybe take a listen before you finish this episode and like listen after and see if some of the things I've shared have influenced your perspective on these songs and how you relate to them. And because I don't listen to them the same after doing kind of a deep dive on them and doing some research and really thinking about the words that were written and what they meant and the time in which the songs were created, it really did add a little something special to the experience of listening to these songs. I've heard them so many times, but I've really engaged them differently this season, and it was really special. And I know that this is a little bit different than my usual solstice offerings, and that's because I've been really drawn to poetry and music lately. And I think it's because they offer something special during this time of darkness, because they lull me into a state of contemplation and reflection, which is exactly what this time of year is for. So think of me, and know that I am also thinking of you, tucked in at home with a book and my record player watching the birds out the window while the music plays, dreaming and contemplating life, love, death, and dreams. Because after all, winter is the dreaming time when we turn inward and take stock of the realms within. So come spring, we might paint the outer ones with the active expression of our renewed life force. So when I was tucked in and listening to these songs, something inspired me to create this episode, and it was really the themes that these songs got me thinking about. So when I listen to the Corpus Christy Carroll and in the bleak midwinter, I hear songs that extend beyond their simple melodies by offering something timeless and heartbreaking, because it is love and pain and age-old themes of suffering and hope that lay at the heart of them. Each piece holds contradictions without resolving them life and death, majesty and humility, mystery and intimacy, and they ask us to dwell in paradox rather than explanation, which feels deeply appropriate for this dark turning point when the earth pauses ever so briefly on the cusp of equal parts, dark and light, before we journey towards greater light and the promise of spring seeds itself in our hearts. Please join me now as we explore these songs together. I would be curious to know how they resonate with you. Let's get started. So, starting with the Corpus Christi Carol. This is one of the most enigmatic pieces in the English carol tradition, and it was first written by Richard Hill, a London grocer, between 1504 and 1536. The carol is even older than its transcription, and many scholars believe it dates to the late 15th century. Adding to its mysterious and romantic nature, the original author remains anonymous, lost to the fading threads of time. And here I'm going to read the lyrics to you for reference. I will not be singing them, but I will read them to you so you kind of can know what I'm talking about in this episode because I refer to the lyrics quite a bit. And it begins Lula, Lulay, Lule Lule, the falcon hath borne my make away. He bare him up, he bare him down, he bare him in to an orchard brown. Lula Lule Lule Lule, the falcon hath borne my make away. In that orchard there was a hall that was hanged with purple and pall Loule Lule Lule, the falcon hath borne my make away. And in that hall there was a bed, it was hanged with gold so red. Lule Lule Lule Lule, the falcon hath borne my make away. And in that bed there lies a knight, his wounds bleeding day and night. Loule Lula, Lula Lule, the falcon hath borne my make away. By that bed's side there kneels a maid, and she weeps both day and night. Loule Lule, Lule Lule, the falcon hath borne my make away. And by that bed's side there stands a stone corpus Christi written thereon. The haunting refrain Lule Lule, which is a lullaby, frames this strange, dreamlike narrative A falcon carries away the speaker's beloved to an orchard containing a hall draped in purple and gold, where a knight lies bleeding from wounds that never heal, while a maiden kneels weeping beside him, and at the bedside stands a stone inscribed with Corpus Christi. Scholars have debated the carol's meaning for centuries, and I'm going to share with you some leading interpretations. The first being Eucharistic symbolism. The image may derive from the medieval cult of the Easter Sepulchre. With its crucifix, host, and embroidered hangings, the watchers kneeling day and night in devotion. So the watchers are kneeling day and night in devotion, meaning the maiden in the song, but in terms of the cult of the Easter Sepulchre, it would be those devoted to Christ coming to the altar to pray and kneel. In the medieval cult of sepulchre, this would be a reference to the elaborate Holy Week liturgical ceremony centered around a temporary tomb-like structure used to symbolize the burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It was a widespread practice, particularly in the late medieval Britain and Ireland, or particularly in late medieval Britain and Ireland, rather, and it was designed to make the Easter story vibrant, sensory, and a dramatic experience for the congregation. And I do think that the description in the song ties in pretty darn closely to the practices that are described here with the Holy Week liturgical ceremonies. Now, from Good Friday through Easter morning, the consecrated host, so the body of Christ in bread form, would be placed in this sepulchre, often draped in purple and gold cloth, while members of the parish kept constant vigil, kneeling in prayer day and night. And the Carol's hall, quote, hanged with purple and pall, and the bed, quote, hanged with gold siled, and the stone marked Corpus Christi, body of Christ, and the maiden who both, quote, weeps both day and night, all mirror this liturgical practice. So there's a pretty direct correlation there. And in this reading or interpretation, the carol becomes a meditation on perpetual presence with the sacred, on bearing witness to Christ's suffering and death, and on the mystery of a body that bleeds eternally for the world's redemption. And the weeping maiden represents the faithful keeping vigil, unable to look away from the wound, and maintaining her watch through the long night before resurrection. So I know I'm referencing Easter here, but somehow the song has also become connected to Christmas. I will be getting to that a little bit down the road, and it has to do with the composer Benjamin Britton. So put a pin in that, we're gonna get there. Now, another way that we could look at this or another interpretation could be around the Fisher King and the Holy Grail. The Wounded Knight evokes one of the most powerful figures from Arthurian Legend. Side note, I love Arthurian legend. I'm obsessed with it. I always have been, and I still am, and I think that's probably why I like this song, is because I could always kind of see that connection to Arthurian legend. So in being connected to Arthurian Legend through the Fisher King, who first appears in the unfinished romance Percival or the story of the grill, which was written in about 1180 to 1190. Not too 100% sure on those dates. I don't know that anybody is, but that's what they kind of guesstimate, or based off of well, I don't know, uh based off of probably the texts that they've discovered. So in medieval grail romances, the Fisher King is the guardian of the holy grail who suffers from a wound that doesn't heal, leaving him unable to stand or to ride. And his perfect perpetual suffering is mysteriously linked to the land itself in these stories, because his kingdom becomes a wasteland, barren and dying because of his wound. So that makes me think of that phrase in the song, the orchard brown. So we know the earth is brown. The Fisher King can only be healed when a questing knight asks the right question, which is usually whom does the grail serve, or what ails thee? But many knights fail to ask, and the wound continues bleeding. And the carol's imagery of the bleeding knight, the weeping maiden, and the stone mark corpus cris the stone marked corpus christi rather, suggests that these are the same wound, the same mystery, and a sacred wounding that contains both suffering and redemption. I just really like this idea about how there's so many layers to what the song could mean. And it probably we can put whatever meaning we want to it now, because it does have all of those layers, which is really interesting. It doesn't, it's not one-dimensional, if that makes sense. Another way that we could look at this is it's this song represents the wounded consciousness of humanity. This is kind of what I was thinking. The ever-bleeding wound might also represents humanity's wounded consciousness after the loss of Christ. We bleed because we do not know how to heal ourselves and therefore the world. And the weeping maiden keeps vigil because we must ever weep for the terrible pain that we inflict, unable to understand the true origin of the wound, which perhaps is hate or our own misguided nature. And in this reading, the carol becomes a meditation on our collective inability to heal what we cannot name, our exile from wholeness, and the perpetual grief of a world that has forgotten how to ask the healing questions. Like the knight who visited the Fisher King's castle and stayed silent. When we witness suffering but fail to ask what ails thee, we fail to ask the with the true compassion what hurts, what's needed, whom the sacred serves. What is the sacred? But just this idea that we forget to ask with true compassion, what hurts? What do you need? How can I help? And where does your heart lie? That's kind of what I hear when I say, Whom does the sacred serve? I know that there are a lot of ways to look at that, but for me, I want to serve love. And I think the theme of love is like a really important one in both of the songs. So without the question, the wound continues bleeding. So if the wound were to heal, the question must be asked, at least in this Fisher King analogy. But I'm also taking it further in this idea that the song talks about the wounded consciousness of humanity. Because without the question, the wound keeps bleeding, the wasteland persists, and we only kneel and weep beside what we can't heal. So we cry and we suffer, but we don't realize we just need to be asking maybe different questions. I think that's fascinating. There is some political allegory in this song because some scholars have suggested that the Falcon, which is Anne Boleyn's heraldic badge, represents her displacement, displacement of Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII's affections. So with the bleeding knight symbolizing the church's woo symbolizing the church wounded by Henry's break from Rome. So there could be some connection to Henry VIII's breaking from Rome. But I think what makes this carol so powerful is its refusal to resolve into a single meaning. It holds Easter and Christmas, sacred wounding and political trauma, personal grief and collective consciousness all at once. And the bleeding night could be Christ, it could be the Fisher King, it could be the church itself, or it could be humanity's wounded heart. And perhaps the Carol's genius is that it's all of these things simultaneously. And the mystery deepens rather than clarifies. The more I listen to the song, the more things come up for me to think about, which is why I think I'm so into it. So I keep thinking, why does the wound never heal? What questions have we failed to ask? What have we lost that keeps us weeping beside the bed? Now, Benjamin Britton recognized the Carol's spiritual depth when he paired it with In the Bleak Midwinter in 1933. And it was in his work titled A Boy Was Born. So that's how the song, two songs that we're talking about here today, get got put together. It's probably also likely how they became both perhaps connected to Christmas. There's also Jeff Buckley's heartbreaking 1994 recording that brought the corpus Christy Carroll to new audiences. And he described it as a fairy tale about a falcon who takes the beloved of the singer to an orchard. And beneath the fairy tale lies something more troubling and true. There's a wound that won't close, a vigil that cannot end, and a terrible beauty. There's a terrible beauty to that staying present to suffering that can't be fixed. So it's kind of haunting, kind of mysterious, kind of romantic, kind of wonderful, kind of sad. It's so many things all at once. And I hope that you do have a listen to it, and I would really love to know what you guys think. Now, shifting to In the Bleak Midwinter, this is kind of different, but not too too different. So Christina Rossetti wrote this as a poem in 1872 for Scribner's Monthly, and it was originally titled quite simply A Christmas Carol. It wasn't set to music until 1906, 12 years after her death, when Gustav Holst composed the sublime tune Cranum. That's C-R-A-N-H-A-M, I'm probably saying that wrong, for the English hymnal. And Harold Drake has an elaborate 1911 recording. He recorded a session and it was voted the best Christmas carol by leading choir masters worldwide. So this is a popular one. And I'm going to read you the lyrics in one second, but I also wanted to note that if you've watched the show The Peaky Blinders, they're always quoting in the bleak midwinter, which I think is kind of interesting. So this song has been brought to sort of this pop cultural forefront from that show. And because of the main character that's in this in the show, and I think all of the Peaky Blinders actually ended up referencing this several times throughout many episodes. So just an interesting side note. So here's the le the lyrics were in the bleak midwinter. In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan. Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone. Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter long ago. Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain. Heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed for the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ. Enough for him whom cherubim worship day and night, a breastful of milk and a manger full of hay, enough for him who angels fall down before, the ox and the ass and the camel which adore. Angels and archangels may have gathered there, cherubim and seraphim thronged the air, but only his mother in her maiden bliss worshiped the beloved with a kiss. What can I give him poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man I would do my part, yet what can I give him? Give my heart. Rosetti was a deeply devout Anglo Catholic influenced by the Oxford movement, which is a nineteenth century revival within the Church of England that emphasized ritual, sacrament, and mystery. And she's created a profound theological paradox in simple language, because she places Christ's birth in a Victorian English winter, snow and all, despite knowing full well that Bethlehem doesn't look like that. But that isn't historical. Historical confusion, it's deliberate. By setting the nativity in the frozen landscape her readers knew, she makes the story immediate and felt. The bleak midwinter becomes a metaphor for spiritual desolation, the harsh landscape of Roman occupation, the vast distance between heaven's glory and earth's suffering, the coldness of a world that doesn't recognize what it's been given. The poem moves from that frozen outer world through theological enormity, so heaven cannot hold him nor earth sustain, to the most intimate gesture imaginable, Mary's kiss. And then it turns to us, asking the question we've all asked when faced with something too large to comprehend, what can I give him poor as I am? And the answer is, give my heart. It is both humble and radical. It's not a grand gesture, it's not about wealth or status, it's about the honor, honest offering of ourselves, just the honest offering of ourselves. And even if you're not religious, there's something powerful in this message to give your heart to the world. For the world, it is ever terrible, but it's also ever wondrous, and a remarkable opportunity to love and be loved lives within us all, despite all that might pursue to take that love or break our hearts. The carol reminds us that our presence, our attention, our willingness to stay open matters much more than we think. And that, you know, what makes this carol so affecting, at least to me, is how its simplicity opens to profound depths. The stark winter imagery, so earth hard as iron, water like stone, snow on snow, becomes the backdrop for the central mystery. God choosing to enter the world not in glory but in absolute vulnerability, which is how I believe we all enter into this world. The Virgin Mother's kiss, so ordinary and tender, becomes an act of worship equal to angelic adoration. The humble, stable kind of in quote, suffices for the Almighty. And Rosetti shows us that the sacred isn't separate from the everyday, it's woven through it if only we have the eyes to see it or witness it. And both carols show this quality of holding contradictions without resolving them. They use material images like bleeding wounds, frozen water, a simple stable to point towards transcendent realities. They've survived through all of this time precisely because their meanings remain open, mysterious, and multiple. They simply bear witness to it. And in the season of long darkness before the light returns, these songs invite us to sit with mystery rather than rush towards resolution. They remind us that the sacred lives in paradox. The sacred lives in the paradox. I do find that to be true. The wounded king who guards the grail, the God who heaven cannot hold, cradled in a mother's arms, the poorest gift being only the only one that matters, which is our hearts. But perhaps most importantly, they remind us of the holy that lives in all of us, the part of ourselves that never dies, that remains innocent and pure, despite the wounds we bear and carry. So the winter solstice is a time to remember that part of yourself. And perhaps these songs will aid in that remembering that part of you in which the holy lives, that part of you that never dies, and that part of you that does remain innocent and pure despite the wounds that you bear. And while I am not religious, I can still appreciate the beauty of these songs, for they have been carried in the collective memory of my ancestors. And I think that's in part why they resonate with me so deeply. My people do come from England and Scotland and Ireland and Western Europe, where these songs were very likely sung and are probably still very popular. And I can envision my ancestors singing them over countless winters. And when I listen to them now, I know that I'm listening across time, joining a long line of people who have turned inward during the dark season and who have contemplated wounds and healing, and who have asked what gift they might offer to a world both terrible and wondrous. And I hope you find your own meaning in these haunting melodies. Now, you know, I wouldn't approach the solstice without crafting some journal prompts based off of these songs for all of you. So I do have some journal prompts for the dark season. And you can obviously flag this part of the episode, but also know that you can find the prompts for quick reference at bloomingwand.com. Just click explore and go to the blog. It'll be in the latest blog, and you can see these journal prompts, links to the songs. Maybe take a second look at what I have written and described about this song so that you can take your own notes and do your own deep dive. So let's get started with these journal prompts. I have a couple of themes. The first one is on mystery and unknowing. What mysteries in your own life have been trying have you been trying too hard to solve? So what mysteries in your own life have you been trying too hard to solve? And what might happen if you simply sat with them instead? Sat with the mystery, didn't try to solve anything. The corpus Christy Carroll never explained who the bleeding knight is or why the maiden weeps. What questions in your spiritual life might not need answers right now? So we're sinking into the not knowing with these. The second category is on sacred wounds. The Fisher King's wound will not heal, and somehow this is connected to his sacred task. What wounds of yours might contain meaning rather than simply needing to be fixed? Does everything need to be fixed? I don't know. Maybe so, maybe not. Rossetti writes of earth, quote, hard as iron and water, quote, like a stone. Where do you feel frozen or hardened in your life right now? What might this hardness be protecting? Some prompts on paradox and contradiction. Quote, heaven cannot hold him, yet a stable suffices, so that heaven cannot hold him is a direct quote from the song. What contradictions are you holding in your own spiritual life? The Carol asks, What can I give him poor as I am? What feels like, quote, not enough in your life? So that might be exactly what's needed. So see how in the song it's like, what can I give him poor as I am? Give my heart. But maybe what we have to give, if we just stopped judging it, and ends up being exactly what needs to be received, or exactly what we should be giving. So I really like this question of what feels like not enough in your life that might be exactly what's needed for you, for others, for the situation that you're in. Some prompts on witnessing and presence. The maiden in the corpus, Christy Carroll, simply kneels and weeps beside the wounded knight. When has your presence been enough even when you couldn't fix something? Maybe something comes to mind. When has your presence been enough even when you couldn't fix something? We don't need to be running around fixing everything, by the way. Sometimes we need to listen and pay attention and witness. And occasionally we need to step into action, but I think much of the time we need to pay attention and process and listen. The next question is the Fisher King awaits someone who will ask the right question. Who in your life might you need to ask what ails thee? rather than trying to solve their problems. So who in your life would benefit from you just asking, How are you doing? What's going on? Some prompts on darkness and waiting. We're approaching the longest night of the year, or we're already there. What are you waiting for in this dark season? What are you waiting for? What are you hoping for? What are you dreaming of? Both Carol speak of ancient wounds and long waiting. What part of your life feels like a wasteland right now? What would healing look like, or does it need to look like anything at all? I also want to point out that I do have a bibliography and further reading embedded in the blog. I'm not going to be reading that to you here, but if you're curious about some places that you could go read about this stuff, it is there. Again, that's at bloomingwand.com. Go to click explore and go to the blog. So I hope you guys have a listen to A Corpus Christi Carroll and in the bleak midwinter. I wonder what it's going to get you thinking about. Do share, you know. I really do like to hear from you. You can shoot me an email at Emily at BloomingWand.com. You can comment on the YouTube video, or just reply to the email that you get in your email inbox if you get the newsletter. So in the meantime, take good care of yourselves. Get those journals out. Listen to some good music, cozy up, and I will see you soon.