Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts

Saturday, 24 December 2011

The Advent journey draws to its close


Sunset today sees the Advent journey reaching its goal.  Taking its name from the latin “adventus” meaning “coming”, the four week preparation for the Nativity is characterized by longing for the coming of the Anointed One, waiting in joyful, restrained anticipation.

The liturgy of the Church is striking in its beauty.  Themes of darkness and light abound, the Office of Readings takes us through the messianic prophesies of Isaiah, and the cry, “Come! Come, Lord, come!” rings out day after day.

Three comings of Christ are called to mind during Advent: The coming of Christ in the flesh, the coming of Christ in grace into the hearts of the faithful, and the coming of Christ in glory at the end of time.  Along with Isaiah, St John the Baptist is our Advent guide, his voice crying in the wilderness, “Make straight the paths of the Lord!”  We are reminded that Advent does have a penitential aspect, even though it is not a fasting season.

The somewhat somber mood is lightened on Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of the season, when the rose coloured candle in the wreath is lit – Christmas is in sight!  

Not long after Gaudete Sunday the O Antiphons make their appearance at Vespers.

The O Antiphons have for a number of years been my favourite component of the Advent liturgies.  Framing the Magnificat from 17 to 23 December, each antiphon implores Christ by one of His messianic titles to come to His people. 

           December 17: O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
           December 18: O Adonai (O Lord)
           December 19: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
           December 20: O Clavis David (O Key of David)
           December 21: O Oriens (O Rising Sun)
           December 22: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations)
           December 23: O Emmanuel (O With Us is God)

The antiphons have not been assigned to the Golden Nights arbitrarily.  Christ answers the cries of His people through them – reading the first letter of each latin name, starting on 23 December, we find they form an acrostic: Ero Cras – “Tomorrow I will be there.”

O Antiphon for 23 December


I have tried to enter into the spirit of Advent this year, avoiding as much “Christmas” as I could.  Not a terribly easy task, but not being one for shopping malls anyway, I did manage to steer clear from much of what is associated with Christmas.  I’ve avoided singing Christmas carols, opting instead for the Advent songs presented in the Office.  Not a huge selection, but they did the trick.
The main focus for me is the rebirth of the Light within myself, seeking a renewal of Grace. 

There is something to be said for cultivating that sense of longing, that recognition that I need Grace, that desire to encounter the mystery of His coming.

In doing so, I found that Advent is not so much about His coming to us, but our going to Him.  The first reading of the Mass of the First Sunday of Advent (year A) is taken from Isaiah, and right in the middle of the portion we hear the words, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the Temple of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways so that we may walk in his paths; since the Law will go out from Zion, and the oracle of the Lord from Jerusalem.”

The Baptist tells us to “Make straight the paths of the Lord.”  The vision I have of that is us travelling along the highways and byways, preparing the road for His journey – we have set out on the path up the mountain, hastening to meet Him.  We’re not sitting around and waiting for Him! 
Our preparation through prayer and penance, drawing out what hinders us, is active participation on our part.  Perhaps we journey without necessarily realizing it, all the while we cry, “Come, Lord! Come!”

We begin our ascent of the mountain, aided by Grace, until we reach the summit where only the honour and glory of God dwell.  There, when Truth, Love and Beauty is born anew in our hearts, He comes to us again.

Correctly approached via the Advent journey, the mystery of Christmas is sacred anamnesis and a foretaste of our final Destination.

I’ve enjoyed Advent so much this year, and am almost sad to be taking leave of a time so beautiful and meaningful.  It’s a little bit like when I’ve been travelling and have so enjoyed the journey that I’ve almost been disappointed to arrive at my destination!  Of course, those feelings are short-lived, as the destination itself presents new journeys and new joys.

May this Yuletide find us ready, may we receive in truth a portion of Grace, and may the Rising Sun, bringer of the Dawn’s Light, be born anew in hearts open to joy and peace.

***

The second reading, from a sermon by St Augustine, from the Office of Readings for 24 December:

Wake up, O man – it was for you that God was made man!  Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.  For you, I say, was God made man.  Eternal death would have awaited you had he not been born in time.  Never would you be freed from your sinful flesh, had he not taken to himself the likeness of sinful flesh.  Everlasting would be your misery, had he not performed this act of mercy.  You would not have come to life again, had he not come to die your death.  You would have broken down, had he not come to help you.  You would have perished, had he not come.

Let us joyfully celebrate the coming of our salvation and redemption.  Let us celebrate the hallowed day on which the great eternal day came from the great eternal day into this, our so short and temporal day.  He has become our justice, and our sanctification, and our redemption.  And so, as scripture says: ‘Let him who glories, glory in the Lord.’

Truth, then, is sprung out of the earth: Christ who said, ‘I am the truth’, is born of a virgin.  And justice looked down from heaven: man, believing in him who has been born, has been justified not by himself, but by God.

Truth is sprung out of the earth, for the Word was made flesh.  And justice looked down from heaven, for every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above.
Truth is sprung out of the earth – flesh born of Mary.  And justice looked down from heaven, for a man cannot receive anything, unless it is given to him from heaven.

Being justified by faith, let us have peace with God, for justice and peace have kissed each other, through our Lord Jesus Christ, for Truth is sprung out of the earth.  Through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we glory in our hope of sharing the glory of God.  Saint Paul does not say, ‘our glory’, but ‘the glory of God’; because justice does not proceed from us, but has looked down from heaven.  Let him who glories then, glory, not in himself, but in the Lord.  Because of this, when the Lord was born of the Virgin, the angels announced, ‘Glory to God in the highest; and on earth peace to people of good will.’

Whence is peace on earth, if not from the fact that Truth is sprung out of the earth, that is, Christ is born of the flesh?  And he is our peace, who has made both one, that we might be people of good will, bound together by the sweet bond of unity.

Let us, then, rejoice in this grace, that our glory may be the testimony of our conscience, and we may glory, not in ourselves, but in the Lord.  Obviously, it was because of this that it was said, ‘my glory, who lifts up my head’. 

For what greater grace could have dawned upon us from God, than that he, who had only one Son, made him the son of man, and so in turn made the son of man a son of God.  Ask yourself whether this involved any merit, any motivation, any right on your part; and see whether you find anything but grace!

St. Joseph Seeks Lodging in Bethlehem - James Jacques Joseph Tissot

Friday, 23 December 2011

The Fall


Electing descent
Into sorrowful matter,
Compelled by the gift you bear.
Hearts of stone become hearts of flesh
And fire, all-consuming.
How you have fallen, bright morning star!

Accurséd pride
Or the effulgence when
Fate’s darknight veil meets Hope’s own dawn?
The rose blooms to greet the sun,
Crimson and gold, a kiss.
How you have fallen, bright morning star!

Bringing awakening,
A gift knowing no price.
The star on your brow, the love in your heart -
It is there for the taking, without prohibition;
It is his, his alone.
How you have fallen, bright morning star!

“Open eyes
And heart and mind
To the beauty of Love’s own fire.”
Your everymoment prayer of yearning
True and singular.
How you have fallen, bright morning star!

Burning Love;
Offering your light
To brighten his dark places,
Walking with him, twinned flames, together,
Should he choose
You who have fallen, bright morning star!

Adam’s son
Is blind to your light –
He stumbles and gropes in the dark.
Find the tree and give him to eat
And rise in his heart
To never set or fall, bright morning star!


~   November 2010

Evening: Fall of Day by William Rimmer (1869–70).

Let us enter into Darkness


By the rod of the cross he passes over the Red Sea, he enters from the desert of Egypt to taste the hidden manna, he rests with Christ in the tomb as if dead to all that is without.  Yet he hears, so far as is possible to one who is still on his journey, the words Christ spoke from the cross to the thief who took his part: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

            If this pass-over is to be perfect, we must set aside all discursive operations of the intellect and turn the very apex of our soul to God to be entirely transformed in him.  This is most mystical and secret.  No one knows it but he who has received it.  No one receives it but he who has desired it.  No one desires it but he who is deeply penetrated by the fire of the Holy Spirit, the fire Christ sent on earth.  This is why the apostle says that this mystical wisdom is revealed through the Holy Spirit.

            If you want to understand how this happens, ask it of grace, not of learning; ask it of desire, not of understanding; ask it of earnest prayer, not of attentive reading; ask it of the betrothed, not of the teacher; ask it of God, not of man; ask it of darkness, not of radiance.  Ask it not of light, but of a fire that completely inflames you and transports you to God with extreme sweetness and burning affection.  This fire is God himself; the furnace is in Jerusalem; and Christ kindles it with all the burning fervour of his passion.
            This was grasped only by the man who said: “My soul rather chooses hanging, and my bones death.”  A man who loves death in this way can see God, for it is a sure truth that ‘man shall not see me and live’.  Let us die, then, and enter into darkness.

~from the treatise of St Bonaventure The Journey to the Mind of God