The Feast of Candlemas

 

The Feast of Candlemas: The Feast of Light

 

 

 

In the Christian tradition today is kept as Candlemas Day, the feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple by His mother Mary and foster father Joseph. It was then that the babe was recognised as the Christ for all peoples and proclaimed as such by St.'s Simeon and Anna. He will be and is already the Light who enlightens all people as Simeon sings in his prophetic canticle, the Nunc Dimitis. This song is chanted and prayed by the whole Church during the office of Compline every night 

 

This feast is understood as one of the pinacle moments when the two strands of Jewish Revelation; the Prophets and the Priesthood, both recognise Jesus as the Christ who fulfils Prophecy and as the perfect High Priest who enlightens the world and who is Himself the sacrificial offering for its salvation.

 

Falling 40 days after Christmas and mid way between the Solstice and the Equinox it also reminds us of the great cosmic rhythms of light and darkness and the uncreated Light from which they both emerge. It is also since ancient times the definitive end of the Christmastide season and looks forward to the growing light of Spring.

 

As part of its ritual the candles that will be used in the coming year are blessed today thus giving it its ancient name of Candlemas

 

 

For this day enjoy a meditation on Light by the poet TS Eliot 

O Light Invisible, we praise Thee!

Too bright for mortal vision.

O Greater Light, we praise Thee for the less;

The easternlight our spires touch at morning,

The light that slants upon our western doors at evening,

The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight,

Moon light and star light, owl and moth light,

Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade.

O Light Invisible, we worship Thee!

We thank Thee for the light that we have kindled,

The light of altar and of sanctuary;

Small light of those who meditate at midnight

And light directed through the coloured panes of window

And light reflected from the polished stone,

The gilded cavern wood, the coloured fresco.

Our gaze is submarine, our eyes look upward

And see the light that fractures through unquiet water.

We see the light but see not whence it comes.

O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee!

My Gran and the Christmas Invitation

My Gran and the Christmas Invitation:

Today, St. Stephen’s day is a very sacred one in our family… not just because of the first Martyr’s witness and passing to the Lord, but because it is also my Gran’s anniversary.

My Mother’s mother, she was, (and is), one of the greatest influences in my life growing up.

I have always regarded Gran as one of my first and best teachers, not only in the ways of faith but even on the contemplative path within it. 

Many, many hours were spent with her, listening to her stories and imbibing her teaching (though she would never have called it that… she simply taught by her very being, as all good elders do). Faith for her was as natural as breathing, and indeed, if you listened as closely as I often did to her whistled breathing as she went about her day, a short prayer to the Sacred Heart or to Our Lady was often just beneath the surface of her breath.

Like her own Mother and Grandmother before her she was a “sharp woman”, as they used to say in Dublin, meaning a wise person and one with a direct line to the Spiritual world. 
Her mother was sought out amongst the Dublin flats as she had “the way” of helping difficult births and deaths and was often asked for advice about a “match” between couples as she had a “good eye” for these things.

Gran was no different and there were many times I would go over to her house to find her sitting beside the phone waiting for the call that would tell her so and so had died. She, of course, already knew as she had “the dream” the previous night… the phone call always came to confirm it and I soon learned to be used to it. 
On other occasions I would arrive to hear her chatting aloud with someone only to discover her alone by the fire when I entered the room.

I never asked.

She never said.

We didn’t need to.

She taught me those ways too. 
“Look into the fire and tell me what you see” she would say, and then smile when, to my surprise, I saw. 

She taught me to look at people’s eyes when they spoke and at the way they stood and moved. 
She had tremendous devotion to the Blessed Virgin who had “been through it all” and her prayers to her were not so much novenas or devotions as a constant conversation born of a life long trust. She had great respect for the friars and religious orders much preferring their churches in town where she could attend anonymously, not liking the front seat parish people as she called them. 
She reminded me often never to judge anyone and taught me to give to the poor, especially beggars in the street. 
“There’s always a story there,” she would say, 
“No one is on the street because they want to be.” 
Women were on the street or poor because, 
“Men put them there.” 
Men were on the street or poor because, 
“Most men are fools for the bottle or for a story.” 
No matter the reason they were to be listened to and helped.

She had been sharp in other ways too. A hard life and losing her husband early on had made her hard in her mid-life and it was only as a Gran that she softened again. In her later years she would often tell me that she was glad she got to be a Gran after everything she had been through.

She often worried about her death. She was not afraid to die. 
"No one dies alone", she would say. 
She had seen enough deaths to know that, 
“They come to collect you.” 

She was, however, afraid that she would die in the house and that I or another grandchild would find her. So for the last few years of her life she prayed everyday the “Thirty day’s prayer” to Our Lady for a happy death and listed the way she wanted to go:

She wanted to die in her sleep so she could “wake up in Heaven”.

She wanted to die alone but having said her goodbyes and surrounded by love.

She wanted to be ready to go.

She talked about it often, not in a morbid way, but in the way you recite your shopping list.

Going and coming were natural in their very essence and death she had long taught and lived was nothing to be afraid of for a Christian soul.

That Christmas she had been very unwell.

Pneumonia had followed a chest and kidney infection and a stay in hospital was called for. She did not want to go but acquiesced at my Mum’s request. Feeling a little better after a few days of antibiotics she was to be released for Christmas by the Docs even though Mum was not happy that she was ready. She came home to us. She was weak and a slim figure of her former self though I still wondered at the muscled arms of her small frame, a result of countless years of housework when that still meant a physical ordeal. She spent most of the next couple of day’s in bed sleeping. She smiled a lot and we got to visit with her and hold her hand and chat. 
Christmas Eve came and her children and grandchildren all visited with presents and smiles and the occasional worried whispered conversation with my Mum and Dad as to how she was doing. Christmas Day she was very quiet and slept a lot. As the house was beginning to settle down she called my Mum into the room and very deliberately and unusually for a woman of her time thanked her for all she had done and told her she loved her. My Mum was somewhat taken aback but at that moment Gran asked her who it was that was standing behind her. 
There was no one there that Mum could see. 
Gran’s eyes focused on the spot behind her and she relaxed.

“It’s alright,” Gran said, “I know them.”

Mum said her smile was a beautiful thing at that moment.

She told Mum, “You can go down to the family now, I’m fine”.

Mum did, though to the end of her own days she often wondered why she did. 

As she went downstairs she could hear Gran talking quietly in the room.

Later Mum checked in on her to find her sleeping deeply and gently.

That night a Blackbird sang outside the house all night.

I remember looking out to try and see it.

I could not.

I should have known.

Gran had often taught me to watch out for Blackbirds.

“They are special to our family,” she would say, 
“Your Grandfather loved them and they come to warn us of things.”

“Whenever you see one, say a prayer to your Grandad.”

I still do.

The following morning, very early, Mum woke suddenly and went straight to check on her.

Gran had passed away.

She was still warm and she was smiling gently.

Mum called for the Priest and the Doctor and then carefully woke us all. I still remember that there were no tears in the house that morning. It all felt very peaceful and quiet. The Priest administered the Last Rites as he felt that she had only just gone before Mum found her. 
A little later myself and Mum stood in the room with Gran looking out the window. 

On the lawn a hen Blackbird was hopping around.

We smiled at that.

“Well”, I said, “She certainly got the death she had wanted!”

Mum told me then about the things that had happened the previous night and about Gran seeing someone in her room.

Someone who had made her smile.

“Do you think it was Grandad?” I asked.

At that moment, right in front of us, a Cock Blackbird, all shiny and bright yellow beaked flew down beside the Hen on the lawn outside. They greeted each other and flew off  together.

After that there was nothing else to say.

Gran had gotten the death she had asked for and we had received the little signs of her going.

In Ireland there has always been the custom of the “Cuireadh na Nollaig” the so called “Christmas Invitation” the feeling that a death at this time of the year is especially blessed and that the signs around it are powerful. Today, almost thirty years later I write this so that this story of my Gran’s passing may be remembered and may bring peace and hope to all who read it…

And perhaps the next time you see a Blackbird you might say a prayer for all your loved ones gone before you…

(Photo unattributed found on google)

Christmas Homily: Ards 2017: Year of the Family

Christmas Homily: Ards 2017: Year of the Family

Emmanuel that is the title He gives Himself…

God with us…

Down the dark and longing ages the prophet’s flame touched words are heard,

“A virgin will conceive and bear a Son and his name shall be Emmanuel”…

They were not understood but they were repeated, renewed in each generation’s heartfelt yearning…and so the sacred words come down to us…

They shine an inner light upon that yearning that arises from that deeply gnawing sense we all have of separation… of being alone… of isolation…

Separated from our God, sin sundered from each other, separated by death… we long for completeness, for perfection, for peace… for life eternal,

for God with us…

We look for its fulfilment… so often searching in the wrong places… We give ourselves over to short term solutions, thinking that our hungers are more important than asking why we are hungry at all and, if we are then what are we truly hungry for? We think our desires are more important than those of others, our needs more pressing than yours…and so finding in our overwhelming desires a fire that scorches and destroys when all the time we were really looking for a light that illumines and enlightens…

It is enough to make us despair…

Or it would be…

Were it not for the prophet’s Spirit whispered promise…

Emmanuel: Our God with us…

the fulfilment of all our hopes and dreams with us…

Can it really be possible?

We wonder…

Could the God of gods, the light from light truly want to be with us?

With us in our mess?

With us in our sin?

With us in our brokenness?

No! Impossible, we think,

At least not until I make myself perfect, or at least a little better,

God would not come to my home, to my heart, to my family… I mean look at us…

Look at me…

“If you really knew me…” we say

 and the fall silent before the mirror of our own soul and its sin soiled surface

No, we think… He could not want to be with me, and in our twisted pride we close our doors to him, just as surely as the innkeeper did on that night,

as the Pharisees would later,

as Pilate finally will with the washing of his hands…

But look at the name He is announced under…

God with us… Emmanuel

Not God with us if…

Not God with us… when

Not God with us…but

You see, where true love exists there are no ifs, buts, or whens;

no conditions no limits no ultimatums

There is only with…

The Lover with the Beloved

Each allowing the other to be who they are.

The One present to the other in open compassion and peace.

That is love

That alone

And to prove this He comes in the most simple and poor way possible.

He descends directly into the mess, into the heart of the mess,

Into a divided world

Into conquered nation

Into a persecuted people

Into a displaced tribe

Into a dung and straw filled stable

Into a topsy turvy family barely ready for a birth

Into the pure heart of a young girl

Love descends.

Love itself descends and becomes one with the mess

Becomes one with us.

Becomes one with me.

Becomes one with you.

And we touch pure, divine unconditional love

No waiting for us to be perfect here…

If God was to wait for us to be perfect there would never have been a Christmas!

No He comes to the mess and in coming to it begins to heal it there and then.

Right there in the midst of it all.

He comes.

The star hangs silent and almost unnoticed over a town overrun with chaos

The angels travel to the simplest and most unclean to deliver the message

of peace!

(no shepherds allowed in the temple! No farmers before the altar with their muddy sandals and earthy hands.)

Emmanuel: Our God with us…

He comes in stillness

He comes in peace

He comes in vulnerability

He comes in the middle of the night

He comes in the deep midwinter

He comes to be loved

He comes to love as only a baby loves

Without judgement and always in the perfect

present moment, forgetting what has just been before

and open to Love now.

Emmanuel: Our God with us…

One with us…

And in that shining moment of Bethlehem we are made part of His family again

The one great family of creation restored as sons and daughters of the Most High

There is no one without a family ever again

No one without a place here at the manger

No one for whom the babe would not have come

Or did not come…

He came for you

He came for me, broken, sinful me…

And He came so that in the Love that is God the broken would be made whole, the sin forgiven and the new beginning of blessing begun in my life and in yours too…

This is what we celebrate tonight…

Every Christmas light you see reminds us of the light of the stable and the star,

every tree in every window the evergreen welcome of Christ in His Love,

every gift exchanged a shadow of the greatest gift ever given…

this is why we gather here and in all the churches of the world tonight and it is why we are sent from here with this message, this commission to tell the whole world

Our God is Emmanuel

Our God is with us!

Hear it!

You have a commission… You cannot call yourself a Christian and absolve yourself from it! Wherever you are, wherever you go you have a message to proclaim, if not by your words then more importantly by your life!

In your home

In your place of work

In your relationships

You must be Christmas!

You must be the reminder to all that God is with us!

You must become a Christmas tolling bell announcing the Word made Flesh,

the birth of the Saviour…

No one should meet you, friend or stranger and not meet the Good News of God in the mess, God with us…

No one should meet you, should meet me

without knowing they have met another call to the manger,

a call to come home to the family of God,

a call to the embrace of Love;

No one should meet you, should meet me

without knowing that in some way they have met the Christ who comes,

the babe of Bethlehem, the God who is with us…

the God who is love.

The God who sees in us only and always

His beloved sons and daughters

His family.

We have called Him Lord and Master and rightly, for so He is…

We have called Him Prince of Peace, and Wonderful Counsellor and Everlasting Father, and so He is…

But He has called Himself Emmanuel…

God with us…

And that is what we celebrate this Christmas night.

May the Lord give you His Peace this Christmas Night: The Father, the Son and + the Holy Spirit.

Amen/

The Wild Nativity

The Wild Nativity.

We have our prophecies too
you know,
we tell our own tales,
and so we knew
to gather there
that night,
ambassadors of our
varied kinds all.
Before old Joseph
came back
with supplies from the inn.
We were there,
hidden in the hay,
up amongst the old beams,
resting by the manger
or drawn there
by the new star
that rose that night
pure and shining
like a snowflake
in its light.
We were there.
We had felt the
old pull of Eden
in our furred and feathered hearts
and felt his long forgotten nearness
once again who walked with us
once in evening light.
Old rivalries forgotten,
or at least put aside tonight,
we sat peacefully
in storied rank
half hidden in the shadows,
lost in awe at her,
settled
so still
in the straw,
her eyes closed
as though present
to a mystery
within.
We were there
waiting for Him
with her.
Let us prepare
His place we said...
Wren moved first,
to pluck her own breast
scattering the softest down
amongst the rough straw
and sparrows followed
weaving moss and herbs
as mattress
as Owl, and old Crow
and Hawk directed.
"I will keep him warm",
said Robin,
reddening his breast
while fanning flame alight.
"We will sing to him
when at last He comes"
said the little ones,
four footed and furred
and long tailed too,
piping in their tiny voices
choiring high as mouse
and vole, rabbit
and hedgehog all
assembled there,
followed by fox's clear tenor
and Badger's earthy baritone
to sing their
benediction of
wild welcome.
And then he came.
How? As sun shines sudden through a cloud breaking blindingly!
How? As the first rays of dawn mark that moment when night becomes a new day.
How? As a scenting nose is suddenly aware of a change in the air.
He came.
More than that we will not say.
Ours alone was that privilege to see and we will guard it down the ages...
And Mary looked upon us with love
and thanked us all
and in her smile and words
we heard old Eve laugh
at last again.
And then there was noise,
and people,
so many people,
and we withdrew
as we always do
to the shadows
again.
But not before He smiled at us
a smile of long recognition
graced and grateful
both.
After the shepherds left,
and their piping drumming din
went off amongst the crowds.
After Bethlehem finally became still.
After old Joseph nodded off
to his Angeled dreams.
We were there
and came forth again
from the shadows
to dwell with them,
our new Adam and Eve,
and heard then
our Gospel
preached to us,
who are already
of His kingdom
and always were.
We made our covenant
with Him then,
to be the first apostles
of His love
and in
our being blessed
and shared with you
to remind you
of the innocence
you lost
and He renews
if you would but follow
our
wild way to
Eden's light
again.
We have been
forgotten now
as shepherds, kings
and crowds
followed,
but not by Him,
who from his mother's arms
smiled past them all at us
hiding in the shadows
there.
And we would later
meet Him
in the desert
and the garden,
there
we will be with Him
again,
for we have
our prophecies too
you know,
and tell our tales
too,
whispering
to each other
across the woods
and hills,
on this night
each year
as you toll your bells
and sing,
we look to the skies
and
remember;
we
were
there.

Christmas Blessings to you and yours this Holy Night +

(Pic is of The Christmas Star by Lynn Bywaters)

On the Edge of Waiting: A Meditation Poem for Christmas Eve, Eve.

On the Edge of Waiting.
(A Meditation Poem for Christmas Eve, Eve)

Shhh...
Come away a moment,
my friend.
Come away
from the lights,
and the crowds,
and the shops,
and the noise,
and the pressure,
and the worrries,
and the old wounds that
winter us
before our time.
Come and sit with me here.
Rest.
Just for a moment.
Let me share with you once again
what we forget in our festive
frenzy:
He is coming…
Down the long ages of despair
He comes as Hope.
Down the rough road of doubt
He comes as Faith.
Down the broken byways
of the
human heart
He comes as Love.
He is coming…
Sit with me on the edge of waiting…
Sit in sacred stillness…
Breathe the deep breath of
blessing.
You do not have to do anything.
He is coming…
Whether you are ready or not
Aware or not,
Able or not,
Present or not,
Believing or not,
He is coming…
As the sun rises,
as the moon shines,
as the tides turn,
as the stars dance,
He is coming…
So do not worry.
Let the tyranny of
tension
fall from you…
You never needed to carry it.
Let the false face of
righteous readiness to defend,
dissolve.
You never needed to wear it.
How could you ever be ready
for this?
For the first proclamation of the
Kingdom to be heard in a baby’s
cry.
Nothing is asked of you
but
to be here and now
who you are.
Truly.
Fully.
Broken?
Yes.
Weak?
Yes.
Called?
Oh yes.
He is coming…
And He is calling you to come to Him.
As He always does.
As He always will.
So, how will you greet Him,
the One who is coming?
The One who calls you,
to His crib.
(Yes, you.)
Will you prepare a place for Him?
Will you open the cave of your heart to Him?
Will you place Him in the sanctuary of your soul?
Will you lay Him upon the rough straw of your life?
Will you swaddle Him with your silence?
Will you offer Him the gentle warmth of animal breath?
Will you offer Him your love?
Or not.
He is coming…
Do not miss the moment
Of Mystery’s
mangered birth
by succumbing to
Bethlehem busyness.
No.
Become as still as a shepherd watching the flock of slumbering sheep.
Become as still as a sage watching the long dance of the stars.
Become as still as Joseph hearing Angels on the edge of dreams.
Become as still as she who is the stillpoint of love’s longing, filled with light,
and whose silence
brought forth the
Word of Love.
Be still and you will know
He is coming…
Always…
In stillness,
on the edge of waiting…
He is coming for you…
He is coming to you…
Always.
He is coming in Love.

(I wrote this last year and just discovered it has been shared over 1000 times on FB! As it seems to be something we all need to hear I'm posting it again. May its words continue to bless all who read it... Happy Christmas Eve, Eve to all)
Brother Richard

O King of the Nations, O Rex Gentium: A meditation on the sixth of the Great O Antiphons of Advent

O King of the Nations!

Long desired one we call to you!

Come from

your Royal Throne

and reign over us!

You who are the beginning

and the end of all;

the first principle

and the fount of all that is!

Come, we pray,

and restore the

divine order of this cosmos,

long thrown into chaos

by the discordant note

of our sin.

O King of the Nations!

Of old known by so many names

and in so many places sought!

Desired in the hearts

of all peoples, of all times

and

templed in the souls 

of all those ancient elders,

men and women of

justice,

peace,

and truth.

Tear down, then

the veils of separation

and reveal your holy name

to all,

as you did to Moses,

that from the many nations

there may be formed

one peaceful people,

one flock,

beneath the loving gaze of

the Good Shepherd.

O King of the Nations!

Come and be our cornerstone!

Take our lost

and tumbling efforts

and re-found, re-form,

our crumbling clay

in your divine matrix

that humbled,

we may stand tall again

and find our place

within your temple

as living stones

once more!

O King of the Nations!

Hear our sacred invocation

as we sing the royal hymn of the Lady,

she who is your Queen and Mother both!

Let us follow her 

in magnifying your power

in its paradox of grace!

For you,

O Conquering Messiah,

in your stabled birth

will teach us the true path

of kingship,

and bestow upon our nature

a royal dignity

never to be taken away!

So then,

may we become, again,

as once we were,

the highest gift

and twice blessed

in our being

by following your

descending

path to the lowest point

of emptiness

and there,

between the

breathing of the beasts

and the beating of a Mother’s

heart,

beneath the star-stilled sky,

and

only there,

come at last

to hear the

Angels

exult

in true royalty

revealed

as Love.

“O King of the Nationsand their desire,

the cornerstone making both one:

Come and save the human race,

which you fashioned from clay.”

O Key of David: A meditation on the fourth of the Great O Antiphons of Advent

O Key of David!

Opener of the way between the worlds
Come and open our tight locked hearts!
O you who make of your very self
both the door and the key
make straight our path to you this night
and from the long winding of the ages
order us aright and
set our feet upon the way of peace
who long since left the path,
and stumble blind in darkness
of our own making!

O Key of David!

You who unlock the ancient temple treasury of Israel
come and liberate its golden light
to illumine the darkness of the whole world!
Open the minds
of all who seek truth and beauty
to find their source and summit
in your mangered birth.
Temper our being,
O Sceptered smith
of the heavens
by the hammer
of your divinity
until we are fit vessels for your sacred meal,
tabernacles of your spirit,
alloys rendered pure again
and fit for the King’s own
birthday feast.

O Key of David!

Open the long barred doors of Heaven as you descend!
Claim again the authority of divinity over humanity,
and humanity in divinity over creation.
Release the locks of longing
holding the doors of limbo shut
and quicken again the hearts
of patriarchs and prophets,
of the ancient fathers and mothers
of all times and places
who have kept faith with the promise
of a freedom scarce imagined,
yet desired of all the ages.

O Key of David!

Unlock in us the song of heaven
that sin strangled into silence
so long ago!
Let ours be the song
of the Woman
whose faith drew you down
upon the earth
she, the thrice holy one,
in whom the gift of grace
shone so bright
that even the shadow of
death
was put to flight,
and you who are
life unbounded
and eternal,
key and door both,
dwelt sealed in her
three seasons long,
so as to unlock for all
and forever
the way to
the eternal
Spring.

"O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel;
you open and no one can shut;
you shut and no one can open:
Come and lead the prisoners from the prison house,
those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death!"

O Radix Jesse! A meditation on the third of the Great O Antiphons of Advent:

O Radix Jesse, O Root of Jesse!

We cry out to you O Root from which all springs,

first fecundity of the Divine!

Come and restore our fruitfulness so long shrivelled and sin wintered!

For we, obsessed only

with the flower that blooms

and is gone so quickly,

spill our tears upon the soiled surface

of the fading petal

and forget the virtue of the root!

O Root of Jesse!

Help us lest we forget that strong growth,

must come from a strong stock,

to know a flower that would

outlast the frost

must come from deep roots,

long buried,

and anchored in

the warm womb

of Mother Earth

resting down the long

ages in the divine dark!

O Root of Jesse!

Speak to us of Spring!

Of that new life you bring,

a quickening felt through all creation,

a gospeled spark,

begun in the deep pulse of a seed

now planted

in that gateless garden

so long prepared!

O Root of Jesse!

You are the point of origin

where all begins,

where from eternity time blooms;

where then comes forth from

Now;

until that sprouting moment

where all begins in you anew!

Save us for your harvest of hope!

O Root of Jesse!

Mixing your luminous seed

with the deep humus

of our muddied being

you bring forth new life!

Heal us

and raise us from our barren sleep

of sin and self

inviting us to bloom again

as first intended and

yet more so than even this

for now,

our roots entwined,

grafted to your Divine stock,

made at last again

one people, one plant, one garden

in which you will walk, delight and dwell.

O Root of Jesse!

We call to you in our evening song

as Adam did,

our gardener father who knew the names of all

and saw your face reflected in his own

until our bloom withered in his hand

plucked from its sustaining root

by selfish desire.

O Root of Jesse!

We sing you our Magnificat,

first sung by Eve our earth Mother,

long silenced since the sundering of her stock,

until she who is Eve and Jesse’s daughter too

became the place of planting

where you

divine root, and seed, and stock,

now born in time and lulled by her hymn

to sleep before your sorrows

renew in us your

love so radical that we are again

delivered into Eden, rooted in

peace,

God grafted into grace.

O Root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the peoples;

before you kings will shut their mouths,

to you the nations will make their prayer:

Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.

O Adonai! A meditation on the second of the Great O Antiphons of Advent

O Adonai!
We cry to you across the endless ages!
We call you by the name for the Name,
that only the One beyond all names may bear, O Hashem!
We seek from you our own exodus
from the cold and hard world
we have built within ourselves,
and hurt so many others by.

O Adonai!
We yearn for your deliverance!
Free us from the slavery to that false self
that is but a shadow of our souls
Let us put off the sandals that insulate us
from the deep throbbing heart of Mother Earth
and step into your Holy Presence
which is everywhere,
and there,
bow down before
the wonder of it all.
O Adonai!
Send to us the Angel of the Burning Bush!
May he call out to us,
so lost in our own thoughts
and worries
and dreams
that we may
at last
remember
the holiness of the ground
we stand on in every place
and at every time
for our where and when
rests always in
your divine
Now.
O Adonai!
Draw us to yourself, O Holy One!
Lead us on that pilgrim path
from the depths of our selfishness
to the heights of the mountain of compassion
and emptiness.
Bid us enter into the cloud,
that dissembles thought
and pierces the proud heart
so to open the soul to the
truest of loves.
O Adonai!
Let us hear the thunder in the void!
There at the summit and centre of our souls
inscribe your new Law of Love
upon the tablets of our hearts
in letters of divine fire!
O Adonai!
At hour of sunset
and star rise we call to you!
Hear the chant of your Church,
echoing the long and faithful love
of Abraham, and Isaac and their storied
generations.
Listen to these ancient invocations!
Look not on us,
nor on our readiness,
Look instead on she who is,
the Lady of Israel,
the Daughter of Zion,
the Queen of Heaven!
She who is
our burning bush ,
always aflame
but ever unconsumed,
who holds within her
sacred womb the mystery
of the Name made flesh!
Hear us sing her new song of deliverance
Hear the mystery magnified in woman
who in that holiest of births
brings about
our deliverer,
and invites
our exodus
home.
O Adonai!
"Magnificat anima mea Dominum!"
We cry with her,
and in her holy
burning words
we hear the song of her people,
our ancestors of spirit,
echoed anew:
"Ashira L’Adonai ki ga’oh ga’ah!"
And so we sing
with all the generations
this Advent night!
"O Adonai,
and leader of the House of Israel,
who appeared to Moses
in the fire of the burning bush
and gave him the law on Sinai:
Come and redeem us
with an outstretched arm!"

O Wisdom! A meditation on the first of the Great O Antiphons of Advent

 

 

 

O Wisdom!

This night the Church turns toward the second half of its Advent journey as with eight great cries from the aching heart of humanity we express the ancient longing for wholeness,

for liberation,

for union with the divine,

for grace…

From the long cold of our Edenic exile we turn towards the sky and kindle hope looking into the dark for a light beyond all night and we sing the ancient invocations of Presence and power:

The O Antiphons,

the deep magic from before the dawn of time…

So at sundown each evening from now until Christmas Eve we will call on the One who comes…

who descends that we may ascend…

who goes forth from the Father that we may return with Him to the houses of light… We will call on Him by names so ancient they are written in words of fire in the hidden heart of Creation their lightening letters breathed forth from the Divine as transcendent touches that set souls longing and hearts bursting as their litany of longing is intoned

O Sapientia! O Wisdom!

We cry out from the heart of our foolishness, from the loss of our shallow knowing, from our listing and lying about the truth and the wound at the heart of all things…

O make us wise…

Enlighten our darkness…

Long sought and hidden,

yearned for by sages and saints,

desired by philosophers and poets

down the ages Wisdom comes…

so often lost…

so often found…

so needed today.

Pouring forth its divine energies

as Hochma,

as Hagia Sophia,

as God at play,

as a young girl in the full exultation of wonder,

as a woman birthing beauty and blessing,

as an elder sage where being and experience are fused at last into

Wisdom…

For Wisdom

is revealed in the heart,

and in the womb,

in the mother

and in the child,

for in no other way could

so close a union,

an inter-weaving,

an inter-being,

an incarnation

be revealed.

For the One who comes

is already

and always

here.

Hidden yet always present…

Heard thundering from the cloud,

from the mountaintop,

in the burning of the bush,

on the edge of the breeze

in the quiet rhythm of the breath,

and in the rippled

waters

of the womb.

And so, as the tide of sunset washes this world

in the dark ocean of night,

we breathe and stand for the Maiden Mother’s song

And chant our first invocation…

To the Word,

to Wisdom,

to the One who is…

to th One who comes...

“O Wisdom

Who proceedeth from the mouth of the Most High,

Who fills the Universe and holds all things together in a strong yet gentle manner,

O come to teach us the way of truth!”