O Rising Sun, O Oriens: A meditation on the fifth of the Great O Antiphons of Advent

O Rising Sun!

On the day of the deepest dark

we call you!

Come to us O promised light!

Gazing upon the eastern edge

of the world

we thrill,

as from our long benighted being

the first dayspring spark is cast,

and a red dawn heralds

a conqueror’s coming!

O Rising Sun!

You who are light from light,

scatter upon us

the uncreated light by which our dull eyes

may even now behold

the dawn of your presence!

Illume us as lanterns,

kindle us as fires,

breathe your flame upon us as beacons

in a world so cold

and a winter of the heart so dark

we oft forget the dawn that has come,

is come,

will come again,

needing our annual remembering

to rekindle our rebirth in you

O Son!

O Rising Sun!

We long for your dawn

down the dark and ancient ways of ancestry

Feeling in our old yearning

the gathering of ghostly generations

who followed their deepest knowing,

that map,

long inscribed upon the centre

of our being

but written in a sacred script

unknown to eyes lost to Eden’s light.

For they,

So desperate for the

warming of a presence

they remembered

but did not know

wrought stone,

and marked ways,

and offered song,

and told story,

and gathered green,

and even spent

blood,

to charm back an earthly sun

while truly seeking

for the Divine Son

who would warm

the winter of our heart

and make of Himself

the sacrifice that brings the light back

for an eternal day  

O Rising Sun!

We call you by our evening invocation!

Kindling our vesper candles and vigil lights,

wrapping the wreath of time

in flames of rose and purple,

we sing now the soul song of

the Lady of the Light.

She whose heart blessed beacon

shone so bright in love,

it drew you from

the realms of everlasting day

to that sealed chamber in which,

with quickening touch,

you, the dayspring and the morning star

both

bestowed your spark of glory

and found your home,

issuing forth

as Word and Light

to bestow the blessing

of a dawn from our Midwinter night,

that re-orients us to righteousness,

and reveals the Light beyond all night

Bethlehem born and blazing

as the true and victorious

Son.

"O Rising Sun!

Splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness:

Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death!"

Our Lady of the Solstice

Lady of the Solstice

At the moment
of
the
deepest dark
and,
at
the sharp point
of the
longest night,
at such distance from
dawn
that we groan
beneath
the burden of
being,
and touch within
ourselves
only
the winds of winter
and the
wild longing
where
light
is only a memory
long lost
and left behind in
summer sun;
then we,
suddenly,
and just for
the merest of moments,
are hushed
into silence,
as the turning
of the
ancient
wheels of wonder
stop,
and sun and stars
all,
still their divinely
directed dance
and take their
yearly yearned for
deep remembering
rest,
like lovers suddenly
still,
when struck
by desire's reverie;
or dancers,
pulsing with passion,
awaiting the next
beat
of beauty's music
to liberate life within.
They,
our elder siblings
of the sky,
recall in
their
sacred stillness
that moment
when
once,
just once,
their fiery song,
sung since
first
divine kindling,
was
paused,
hushed,
stilled,
stopped;
just
once,
long ago,
so as
to
listen to
a new note
joined to
the
great hymn of gratitude
that all
offer
simply by their very being.
For in that
moment
of their listening
was revealed
she who is
our true solstice.

The Woman,
that moment of
perfect stillness
between
divine in-breathing
and creation's
exhalation of excelsis.
So they watched,
as she who is the
stillpoint
of
the dance of story,
and the sanctuary
where
myth becomes flesh,
then,
before angelic emissary,
dropped the pebble of her
yes,
in its utter simplicity,
longed for through the countless
ages of agony,
into the pool of our pain.

Behold the Solstice of the Lord…
Be it done unto me according to His Word…

Looking deep they
saw its
ripples now run to the
edges of existence
trembling them with
the promise
of a new
Spring.

And the Story became flesh…
And dwelt amongst us…

This young girl,
this Lady of light.
who is our solstice.
She,
the perfect place
of stillness,
so attuned
to the coming of the Light
that in her
all
creation stills,
the old cycle of sin
is broken
and,
even the deep dark
of despair
must yield
to glow of dawn.

She,
the light that glows before
the rising Sun,
heralded by Robin
and Wren
and fluting Blackbird,
She, like that blessed moment
when Sun and Moon
both
hang in the deep blue together
and bow as they pass
gentling our hearts
and
drawing us from dreams
to welcome
the advent of the One
who
IS
Love's Light
and eternal Word both,
spoken now into time’s renewed turning
by the Yes of one who
holds
within her heart
the perfect emptiness of Love.

Treasuring in
the holy dark of
her womb the hearth
where Spring's spark is
kindled
and brightens with beauty
as a
first place of
promised Easter exhalation
the cave of
rebirth;
in which
eternity and time
are married,
and infinity will wed itself
forever
to clay's embrace.

Here, in this
sacred solstice place,
Eve's aching
is healed,
and
here,
Adam's sin
undone,
as from the dry root
of the
sundering tree
a new shoot rises
at the word of
one
whose whole being
is Yes
whose whole being
is
Love,

And so,
yearly
we sit,
rooting ourselves
once again
in Mother Earth's embrace,
and while looking ever upwards
we find the still point
of the skies
and yet
inwardly gaze
into
the light of story
long-kindled
against the cold of winter,
and so become
re-minded,
re-hearted,
re-souled,
by she who is our solstice,
whose self-forgetting
Yes
brought to us
the turning of the light
and blessed us
all
like barren trees
brought to beauty
by a sudden
anointing
of
new snow.

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!”

St. Nicholas Dawn

Feast of St. Nicholas the great Santa Claus himself today...
Always reminds me of that one morning I was privileged to encounter him some years ago...

St. Nicholas Dawn

On the sixth morn of the
month that's dark,
while walking in that hallowed park,
and breathing deep the icy air
I felt the grace of Nicholas there.

I stood a moment in the frost
and felt the yearning of the lost
on land or sea who wandering go,
whose minds and hearts are often low,

as, gripped within by sadness grey,
they stumble through another day
and
long to feel the gift of light
break in upon their inner night.

Then feeling deep their dark and pain
I vowed to ne'r come there again,
until I felt him standing there
all bright against the freezing air.

A bishop robed in red was he,
who looked with kindness upon me,
while leaning on his gnarled staff
his beard it shook as he did laugh,
and said in tone of deepest cheer,
"Why, what on earth do we have here?"

"A little friar out in the cold,
whose failing heart is not so bold,
for overcome with grief is he
for those whose lives in darkness be,
and those who know the belly's wail,
and those who sit alone in jail,
and those whose hearts know only pain,
and those who sleep outside in rain,
and those who fear the stronger power,
and those who nearer feel death's hour!"

And scarce he spoke, but I replied,
"Tis true you see what lies inside!"
"But what can I do next to you,
who dwell above the azure blue,
and as a saint may do so much
to bring the light and healing touch
of Heaven' s blessing earthward sent,
to those whose lives by pain are rent?"

At this, his face it darkened then,
as though despairing of all men,
like me who seek a grace to flow,
but far too often still say no
when called to be a mirror through,
the poor, the lame, the sickened too,
will see a glimpse of heaven's light
that lifts them from the pit of night.

Then as I stood before his face
he touched my heart and blessed this place,
and said, "It's right that this you know,
that saint I am and saint I go,
throughout the world both night and day,
to hear the cries of those who pray
and then I bring their yearning strong
to Him who seeks to right their wrong,
and sent am I by His right hand
to all the hearts within the land,
who gentled are by graces dear
and shed their sweet impassioned tear,
that they would know their call is this,
to enter into Heaven's bliss,
by healing, helping, lifting, raising
listening, watching, minding, saving
the weak, the poor, the little child,
as I did here before I died."

"For this they call me Santa Claus,
I who kept sweet Heaven's laws,
and now I pass them onto you
O little one, who now dares to
extend a hand that helps and heals,
and so the light of God reveals,
to let each poor one deeply know
that Christ their saviour bowed so low,
that babe he came in frost and cold
our Shepherd King, who serves the fold,
and in His mother's arms did cry
for all the sheep, for you and I,
and none He lost, and none forgot
not even those who choose the lot
of greed, and pride, and selfish gain,
for them He offered every pain."

"So come my friend and stand with me
beneath the branches of this tree,
and we shall watch the dawn arise
and light grow in the eastern skies,
and pray, and psalm, and praise again
the One who is the light of men!"

At this the old man smiled at me,
standing 'neath the ancient tree.
As in my heart again I vowed
to cry to all with voice aloud,
of Him who loves us deep and well;
to be a Christmas tolling bell,
that rings and calls both one and all
to heed that ancient Yuletide call,
to light each other's gathering dark
and share within the healing spark,
which He first kindled with His breath,
The One who broke the power of death!

Then as the light grew all around
I seemed to hear a merry sound,
of bells, or chimes from out the air
and laughter deep that saints do share,
and gone he was, my Bishop bright,
there at the dawning of the light,
So I was left once more alone,
filled with a song of Heaven's tone,
that flames within my heart so bright
I fear not now no lack of light!
And forth I went to sing this lay
of the light that shone on Nicholas' Day.