Read through the Scripture texts, notice the words and phrases which strike you.
‘And the Lord you are seeking will suddenly enter his Temple; and the angel of the covenant who you are longing for, yes, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts.’
What do you most long for as Advent draws to a close?
All their neighbours were filled with awe and the whole affair was talked about throughout the hill country of Judaea. All those who heard of it treasured it in their hearts. ‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him.
What have you treasured in your heart this Advent?
Today the Church lays side by side the story of Hannah bringing her precious child Samuel to the Temple, with Mary singing her Magnificat.
I don’t think I could imagine a more poignant scene if I tried than that of Hannah leaving her child Samuel in the Temple at Shiloh. Hannah had longed for a child and saw the birth of Samuel as the greatest blessing. And yet, she had made a vow that he would be given over to the Lord.
Perhaps we need to take a step back from the poignant details and see this episode as part of God’s overarching plan. By growing up in the sacred place of Shiloh, Samuel is shown to have been trained from a very young age to listen to God’s word and to act upon it. It is Samuel who will anoint David as King, and from David’s line the Messiah will be born.
We can trace a thread through the stories of the Old Testament of people who were faithful to God against all odds. Each small choice and each big ‘Yes’ paves the way for the fulfilment of God’s promise. Maria Boulding, in her book, The Coming of God, expresses this beautifully:
‘The chosen people were created to be a centre of attunement, receptivity and expectation, a place of felt need and desire. They were to listen to God’s word, to long for him, and to be the womb-community which would bring forth the One who was to come.’
And still today, God longs for our whole-hearted participation in the promise of salvation. We are still called to be that place of longing for our communities, for our country, for the world.
The story of Hannah and Samuel only makes sense if we see love at its heart. So too Mary’s words in the Magnificat. The depth of her praise and thanksgiving in this song will be matched by the depth of her love as she watches her son take the road to Calvary. Hannah and Mary have both taken the narrow road.
It is love impels them to pursue everlasting life: therefore, they are eager to take the narrow road of which the Lord says: Narrow is the road that leads to life (Matt 7:14). (Chapter 5, Obedience)
St Benedict wants his monks to be eager to take the narrow road. It’s only love that can make sense of the desire to embark upon this path. In his chapter on Obedience St Benedict is clear that his monks are to live ‘no longer under their own judgement, giving in to their whims and appetites’. This is a hard teaching. It sometimes requires being able to take the long view. Often you have to put yourself in the position of another, trying to want what God wants. This is very much the focused work of the novitiate and beyond.
In time, you will be given a responsibility and you will rely on the goodwill and obedience of others. What you ask of others, you will need to model yourself.
It’s only love that can make sense of this.
Is God calling you to take the narrow road this Advent?
An air of joy and urgency weaves through the readings and prayers of our liturgy today.
The first reading today comes from the Song of Songs. It’s not used very often in the lectionary, though is an option for Weddings and Religious Professions. The writer imagines their Beloved as a young gazelle and in poetry celebrates the dynamic of a relationship of love. There are verbs of motion and details that engage our senses:
‘see how he comes leaping on the mountains’ ‘bounding over the hills’ ‘he looks in’ ‘he peers through the lattice’ ‘winter is past’ ‘flowers appear’ ‘the cooing of the turtledove’ ‘vines giving out their fragrance’ ‘your voice is sweet’ ‘your face is beautiful’
The urgency of the Beloved to meet his lover can carry us along. There’s a similar urgency in Luke’s story of the Visitation; ‘Mary set out and went as quickly as she could to a town in the hill country’.
By all accounts Mary’s journey to Elizabeth won’t have been easy. Whatever we imagine the terrain to be like, the journey was long and not without danger for someone Mary’s age. Luke gives us none of these details. His focus in on the joy of two women meeting. Mary and Elizabeth have lived lives of faithfulness to God’s Word. Their faithfulness has made them so open and ready to receive that God can find a home in them. On the Feast of the Visitation we sing a hymn written by one of our Sisters. This verse always strikes me:
Virgin mother, childless wife, Vessels of his will; In their flesh his kingdom grows, Secret, holy, still.
Advent calls us all to be vessels of God’s will.
I hear in the phrase ‘secret, holy, still’ a deep resonance with monastic living. A good deal of what happens in the monastery is not really seen by many people. It’s not that it is secret, it’s more that enclosure means that some parts of the buildings are a ‘protected space’. I often speak about the monastery as an ‘intentional space’ where everything is ordered to ensure that God’s kingdom can grow. St Benedict is keen that his monks have all that they need within the enclosure of the monastery. In Ch 68, The Porter of the Monastery, he writes:
‘The monastery should, if possible, be so constructed that within it all necessities, such as water, mill and garden are contained, and the various crafts are practised.’
Benedict is trying to guard against his monks ‘roaming’ around and losing their focus. He knows that human nature is such that many things can be more enticing than the job in hand.
Mary and Elizabeth are both called to make space for God’s Kingdom to grow. Benedict wants his monks to make that same space.
How is God calling you to make space for the Kingdom?
As Christmas draws closers our readings focus on the key figures in God’s plan for humanity.
The text from Isaiah 7 in the first reading provides the background to Gospel story of the Annunciation. Isaiah’s words speak directly to the political situation of 736 BC. In the face of the growing power of Babylon, Judah is tempted to make an alliance with Assyria. Isaiah warns against this and when King Ahaz requests a sign this is what he hears:
‘The Lord himself, therefore, will give you a sign. It is this: the maiden is with child and will soon give birth to a son whom she will call Immanuel, a name which means God-is-with-us.’
Isaiah’s message is very clear: trust in God and don’t be tempted to organise things yourself. From our vantage point the words are very comforting. In the turmoil of our daily lives we need to know that God is with us. The image of a pregnant maiden also tells Ahaz that there is a plan and the difficulties will pass. God’s plan will unfold in months and not years.
Since the pandemic we’ve had to trust that our government has a plan and it hasn’t been easy. More than ever we have needed to believe that God is with us. We’ve been pretty much powerless in the face of the big issues, but perhaps have learnt the value of doing the small things consistently.
‘Such people as these immediately put aside their own concerns, abandon their own will, and lay down whatever they have in hand, leaving it unfinished. With the ready step of obedience, they follow the voice of authority in their actions.’ (Chapter 5, Obedience)
When you enter a monastery the overall plan is clear: to seek God with these people, in this place. Most people don’t report a ‘Damascus moment’ in their vocation journey. The journey often involves a very gradual dawning that God is calling. It involves saying ‘Yes’ to somethings and ‘No’ to others. Sometimes several events and perhaps people, will all point in the direction of the monastery. The path you follow is more or less marked out for you. There will come times of crisis when you’ll need to reconnect with that first inkling that God was calling you. The rhythm of the life will mean that you are asked to set aside your own will on a daily, if not hourly basis. These are little moments of ‘annunciation’ on your journey. Sometimes your ‘Yes’ will be strong and clear and at other times it will be weak and a little half-hearted. God honours every ‘Yes’.
One day the unexpected will come. There will be something that turns your world upside down. That day God will wait for your ‘Yes’ just as the Angel Gabriel waited for Mary’s ‘Yes’. You’ll step out in faith.
During this week the Liturgy of the Word lays before us the stories in our history that tell of the promise of a child to childless couples. We know this motif so well. A God-fearing couple long for a child, they pray and what had seemed impossible, is now possible.
Elizabeth and Zechariah appear on our Advent journey as the archetypal God-fearing couple. Zechariah’s name means ‘God remembers’ and as the story unfolds we will see that God has indeed remembered his faithful servants. Elizabeth’s name probably comes from the Hebrew ‘Eli’ meaning God and ‘sheva’ meaning oath. Her name reminds us that God keeps promises.
‘Both were worthy in the sight of God, and scrupulously observed all the commandments and observances of the Lord.’
Both Elizabeth and Zechariah are from priestly families. The faithful keeping of the Torah is a way of life for them. Prayer and worship are woven through their lives. New Testament scholar Amy J Levine invites us to savour the scene as Zechariah performs his duties:
‘The Jewish tradition has always been one of sensory delights: sights and sounds, scents and tastes, attention to the body. Worship not only is spiritually uplifting and beneficial for us but should also be aesthetically pleasing: it gives us, when it can, the gift of beauty, something often needed in a world marked by bullets, poverty and disease.’
Up until now I have rather skated over the details of this story. I have imagined that Zechariah has offered incense many times before. However, scholars suggest that this was a once in a lifetime event. Lots were cast and once you had been chosen, you wouldn’t be included in further lots. The incense offering takes place in the sanctuary. The priest goes there alone. It is one of the most sacred tasks that a priest can perform. Zechariah performs this sacred duty on behalf of the whole Jewish people. But today the revelation he receives is personal. All his hopes and longings as a faithful follower of Torah will now be honoured with the birth of a child. While carrying out the most sacred of duties his prayer is answered. God has remembered Zechariah and Elizabeth.
From the sacred duties in the Temple Zechariah, Zechariah now moves to the sacred duty of preparing for the birth of a child. I’d like to think that his years of dutiful service in the Temple will have equipped him for the life-changing event of the birth of a child.
Monastic life has a rhythm of its own. This is largely set by the cycle of prayer, meals and recreation. It’s all about faithfulness to a path that has been trod for centuries. It’s very ordinary.
I have always been struck by two lines from the Cistercian constitutions: ‘Only if the sisters prefer nothing whatever to Christ will they be happy to persevere in a life that is ordinary, obscure and laborious. And may he lead them altogether into eternal life.’
Few monastics report mountain top moments or anything that would parallel Zechariah’s experience in the Temple. Largely monastic men and women experience the sacred right amongst the very ordinary things of life. The line between the ‘holy’ and the ‘ordinary’ begins to blur after a while. The solemnity with which Vespers is prayed is somehow paralleled by the care and attention given to very ordinary domestic tasks.
When St Benedict writes about the qualifications of the monastic cellarer he suggests that the person chosen should, amongst other things, be ‘God-fearing’ and ‘like a father to the whole community’. Every person and everything with which he comes into contact is to be treated with care and reverence. Nothing is left to chance:
He will regard all utensils and goods of the monastery as sacred vessels of the altar, aware that nothing is to be neglected. (Chapter 31, Qualifications of the Monastery Cellarer)
How is God calling you to show care and reverence this Advent?
Who shall climb the mountain of the Lord? Who shall stand in his holy place? The man with clean hands and pure heart, who desires not worthless things.
Today the Psalmist paints for us the portrait of the archetypal righteous person. The ‘clean hands and pure hearts’ are metaphors for actions and motivations. These words speak directly to the figure of Joseph, who now takes centre stage on this last Sunday of Advent. In biblical tradition Joseph and Mary are very well matched. They are both God-fearing and lowly: God’s law has found a home deep in their hearts.
That Joseph doesn’t say a single word in any of the Synoptic Gospels endears him to me. We are left to imagine what he might have said. Would he sing a Magnificat that thanked God for his being of David’s line? Would he sing of the many ways through which God had made his purposes known to him- through the Scriptures, through the work of his hands, through his dreams? Would he long for the day when all peoples would be gathered into one? Would he praise God for the light that had shown him his path and pray that it may never be dimmed?
‘Speaking and teaching are the master’s task; the disciple is to be still and listen.’ (Chapter 6, Restraint of Speech)
When I was discerning monastic life, I remember asking if there were any qualities in particular that a monastery might hope for in a candidate. The only thing that I remember from the reply was that there was the hope that a candidate would be ‘teachable’. As my formation progressed I began to understand what this could mean. Embarking upon monastic life requires that you put your life in the hands of the community. You gradually lay aside your way of doing something and at least try to embrace the new way. Much of this path involves listening to others and following their instructions. On a bad day you may experience this as self negating and a little controlling. This isn’t the intention. Sometimes you just have to trust in the wisdom of the community’s ways and traditions. The understanding will come later. Much like Joseph, you quietly go on doing what is asked. In time, you will also be called upon to pass on the community’s traditions. Each moment of faithfulness, through thick and thin, will have played a part in you being able to say ‘This is our tradition’.
How is Christ calling you to be silent and listen this Advent?
O Wisdom, O holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation.
Today the Church silently selects her top liturgical gear. In the seven days before Christmas every collect, every antiphon and every piece of scripture has the sharpest of focus.
The days are shaped by the texts of the Magnificat antiphons which we sing each night at Vespers. Each antiphon highlights a title of Christ, our Messiah. The Latin names of the antiphons form an acrostic.
S apientia ( Wisdom) A donai (Lord) R adix Jesse (Root of Jesse) C lavis David (Key of David)
O riens (Rising Sun) R ex Gentium (Ruler of the Nations) E mmanuel (Emmanuel)
This spells the Latin words ero cras, I will be here tomorrow. It’s a beautiful way of keeping the last days of Advent.
Poet and priest, Malcolm Guite has written series of beautiful sonnets for the O Antiphons.
O SAPIENTIA
I cannot think unless I have been thought, Nor can I speak unless I have been spoken. I cannot teach except as I am taught, Or break the bread except as I am broken. O Mind behind the mind through which I seek, O Light within the light by which I see, O Word beneath the words with which I speak, O founding, unfound Wisdom, finding me, O sounding Song whose depth is sounding me, O Memory of time, reminding me, My Ground of Being, always grounding me, My Maker’s Bounding Line, defining me, Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring, Come to me now, disguised as everything.
Today’s reading from Isaiah 54 is also used in the Liturgy of the Word at the Easter Vigil. In the light of the Paschal candle this reading speaks of the promise of rescue from death and the hope of new life. In our Advent liturgy we can hear it as a text of eager longing for ‘the Holy One of Israel’.
Through all of the complexities of Israel’s covenant relationship with God the prophets make appeal to the faithfulness of God, in Hebrew, ‘hesed.’ It’s a word which encompasses steadfastness, loyalty, mercy and love. Israel must face the painful reality that she has wandered from the path of God’s ways. She has not shown herself faithful. In some vivid images Isaiah imagines a new reality for Israel:
‘Widen the space of your tent, stretch out your hangings freely, lengthen your ropes, make your pegs firm, for you will burst out to right and to left.’
I love the idea of making space for something that God is promising. Every care is taken that the tent is robust and sturdy. There are no half-measures when God acts.
After the trauma of Exile, Israel can dare to hope that God can do something new. Israel is no longer to feel abandoned, but cherished, protected and loved. So powerful is God’s promise that even if mountains were to disappear, God’s love will never leave the people of Israel.
‘for the mountains may depart, the hills be shaken, but my love for you will never leave you and my covenant of peace with you will never be shaken, says the Lord, who takes pity on you’.
I chose this text for the entry procession for my Solemn Profession. It seemed to me to sum up my hope in my monastic journey. 22 years on and my hope still holds.
If you have ever been invited to the Solemn Profession of a Religious, you’ll know that it is a ceremony of great simplicity and power. Each Religious Order has its own traditions surrounding Religious Profession. In the Benedictine tradition a verse from Ps 118 holds a central place:
Receive me, (Lord), as you have promised, and I shall live; do not disappoint me in my hope.
In monastic language this is often referred to as ‘The Suscipe’, suscipere being the Latin word for ‘receive’. Commenting on this verse, Sr Aquinata Bockmann, says;
‘Suscipere means to take something very carefully and lifting it up, taking it to oneself, embracing it, cradling it in one’s hand, and covering it. The father of the family receives the child after birth, and this means he accepts it.’
This is the monastic’s covenantal prayer to God and to her community: it binds her in love and hope. The guidance of the community and the rhythm of the life will make sure that ‘ropes are lengthened and tent pegs firm’. What unfolds in the space she makes for God will be unique.
How is God calling you to ‘make space’ for him this Advent?
Today our anticipation of the coming of the Messiah gains momentum as Isaiah contrasts God’s powers with those of the popular Babylonian gods:
Apart from me all is nothing. I am the Lord, unrivalled, I form the light and create the dark. I make good fortune and create calamity, it is I, the Lord, who do all this.
Throughout the story of salvation what distinguishes the God of the Israelites from the gods of the surrounding cultures is action. The God of the Israelites makes things happen. When the Israelites found themselves in Exile they began to lose heart and to wonder if God would act again on their behalf. God’s message is clear: if the people turn to him, then they will be saved.
‘I am the Lord, unrivalled: there is no other god besides me. A God of integrity, and a saviour: there is none apart from me. Turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth, for I am God unrivalled.’
The God of integrity longs for the integrity of the People of God.
‘The twelfth step of humility is that a monk always manifests humility in his bearing no less than in his heart, so that it is evident at the Work of God, in the oratory, the monastery or the garden, on a journey or in the field or anywhere else.‘
Chapter 7, Humility
The life of a nun or monk is one continuous turning towards God. Benedictines take vows of Stability, Obedience and Fidelity to Monastic Life (Latin: conversatio morum). Implicit in each vow is the desire to grow and to change. In Chapter Seven of the Rule you’ll find 12 steps of Humility. It’s not an easy read for a monastic. Perhaps one of the most helpful insights I have had into St Benedict’s seemingly uncompromising teaching is from Dom Gregory van de Kleij, the former prior of the monks at Turvey. He suggests that growing in humility is a journey and our goal is to be able to live in perfect love. We won’t achieve this overnight, but we can reasonably expect to have made some progress by the time of our monastic Golden Jubilee. This gives me hope.
Above is the last step of humility. It’s a portrait of a nun or monk who is fully integrated. It’s very much like the image of the stone made smooth by years of rubbing alongside other stones. It’s daily faithfulness, over years and years, that gets you to this last rung of the ladder. Cistercian, Michael Casey, explains the 12th Step of Humility like this:
‘The integration presented by Benedict is not high integration- the monk transfigured into some superior being. No, it is low integration. The monk is wedded to his earthliness, and rid of the pervasive temptation to get above himself.
He is at home with his limitations and so he is content to number himself among those who rely on the mercy of God. ‘
