O Radiant Dawn, splendour of eternal light, sun of justice; come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.
O Oriens
First light and then first lines along the east To touch and brush a sheen of light on water As though behind the sky itself they traced The shift and shimmer of another river Flowing unbidden from its hidden source; The Day-Spring, the eternal Prima Vera. Blake saw it too. Dante and Beatrice Are bathing in it now, away upstream… So every trace of light begins a grace In me, a beckoning. The smallest gleam Is somehow a beginning and a calling; “Sleeper awake, the darkness was a dream For you will see the Dayspring at your waking, Beyond your long last line the dawn is breaking”.
Matthew begins his gospel with a lengthy genealogy which requires great concentration, whether you are listening to it or reading it aloud. It’s not unlike having a complicated story plot explained or trying to work out how you are related to a distant relative. The lineage which Matthew lays out so carefully is our lineage too. We are as much reliant on God’s promise as our Biblical ancestors.
Matthew tells his story through Joseph’s eyes. Joseph’s Davidic descent is all important here. This descent, so carefully explained, embeds Jesus very firmly in Jewish tradition. Two leaps of faith are required for God’s plan to come to fulfilment: Mary’s ‘yes’ and Joseph’s willingness to be a father to Jesus.
We are almost at the end of our Advent journey. The path of promise that we have traced through the Scriptures doesn’t come to an end with Christ’s birth. The unique story of how each of us came to be born stands alongside the birth of our Saviour. God still waits for our ‘yes’ and our willingness to enter deeper into the mystery of the Incarnation.
Look back over Advent. How have you been drawn deeper into the mystery of the Incarnation?
O Key of David O royal power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of Heaven: Come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and lead your captive people into freedom.
O Clavis David
Even in the darkness where I sit And huddle in the midst of misery I can remember freedom, but forget That every lock must answer to a key, That each dark clasp, sharp and intricate, Must find a counter-clasp to meet its guard, Particular, exact and intimate, The clutch and catch that meshes with its ward. I cry out for the key I threw away That turned and over turned with certain touch And with the lovely lifting of a latch Opened my darkness to the light of day. O come again, come quickly, set me free Cut to the quick to fit, the master key.
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.
When we come to the story of the Annunciation and the angel’s words to Mary our biblical imaginations can draw upon the Old Testament thought world.
The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.
That Mary will be ‘overshadowed’ by God’s power is a figurative way of saying that God will intervene directly. All of God’s power, presence, light, glory and love will be contained in Mary’s womb. This is a breathtaking promise. Mary is now the guaranteed dwelling place of God.
Needing to be re-assured of God’s presence is an experience in which we all share. People, places and rituals can give us a sense that God really is overshadowing our lives. Advent invites us deeper into that mystery.
Where have you felt God’s overshadowing presence this Advent?
O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.
O Radix Jesse
All of us sprung from one deep-hidden seed, Rose from a root invisible to all. We knew the virtues once of every weed, But, severed from the roots of ritual, We surf the surface of a wide-screen world And find no virtue in the virtual. We shrivel on the edges of a wood Whose heart we once inhabited in love, Now we have need of you, forgotten Root The stock and stem of every living thing Whom once we worshiped in the sacred grove, For now is winter, now is withering Unless we let you root us deep within, Under the ground of being, graft us in.
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 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.
O Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain; come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.
O Adonai
Unsayable, you chose to speak one tongue, Unseeable, you gave yourself away, The Adonai, the Tetragramaton Grew by a wayside in the light of day. O you who dared to be a tribal God, To own a language, people and a place, Who chose to be exploited and betrayed, If so you might be met with face to face, Come to us here, who would not find you there, Who chose to know the skin and not the pith, Who heard no more than thunder in the air, Who marked the mere events and not the myth. Touch the bare branches of our unbelief And blaze again like fire in every leaf.
The theme of kingship looms large in the story of our salvation. The transition from the people of Israel living as 12 tribes to their anointing of a king involved twists and turns. They were influenced by what they saw around them and began to long for a king:
‘We want to be like the nations around us. Our king will judge us and lead us into battle.’1 Sam 8
The King had a huge responsibility in terms of faithfulness to the Torah and the well-being of his people. The writers of the history of Israel would evaluate each king and many were found wanting. Our first reading from Jeremiah today speaks from the perspective of the Exile where the harsh reality of the failure of many kings must be faced. Into this deep despair Jeremiah speaks a word of hope as he promises a new king:
See, the days are coming – it is the Lord who speaks – when I will raise a virtuous Branch for David, who will reign as true king and be wise, practising honesty and integrity in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel dwell in confidence. And this is the name he will be called: The-Lord-our-integrity.
This new king will embody the love and faithfulness of God and ensure the well-being of his subjects. I am always struck by the name ‘The-Lord-our-integrity’. So many of our day to day experiences can lead to a sense of fragmentation. I believe that the human heart is always searching for wholeness and integrity. We were made for this.
The Gospel account of the angel appearing to Joseph links in several ways with the text from Jeremiah. The angel gives Joseph a message of hope and by quoting Isaiah reminds us of the whole theology of promise and blessing. Joseph stands here as a man of integrity. He is a loving and faithful keeper of Torah. It’s through Joseph’s everyday observance that Jesus will be shaped and nurtured too.
We may not always stop to think about our day to day responsibilities and how they shape those around us. We are perhaps more likely to notice how others fulfill their roles.
Take some time today to pray for someone whose leadership role has shaped and nurtured you.
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.
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.
The Church now silently selects its top liturgical gear as we move towards Christmas Eve. At Vespers we will sing the first of the Great O Antiphons, O Sapientia. At Mass the prayers and readings are tightly focused.
Today our text is from Genesis 49. Jacob in his old age asks his twelve sons to gather and gives each a blessing. Blessing and lineage are key intertwined themes in Genesis. In today’s reading we hear the blessing on Judah. It’s likely that the text was part of an oral tradition where the tribes would characterize each other by short sayings, often linked to the tribal name. Judah is given a lavish blessing. Using the imagery of a lion cub and a lioness Judah’s supremacy is promised. Judah will enjoy a period of prominence over the other tribes. Even the surrounding nations will be in Judah’s jurisdiction.
Nowadays it’s relatively easy for us to do research on our family trees. Deep in the human heart is the desire to know where we came from and how we connect to the world. Connection is why we are here. The Biblical writers set great store by being able to trace lineage. The biblical lineage is our lineage too. There is a sense in which we share spiritual DNA with all of the biblical characters.
As we move to the Gospel reading the focus is again on lineage. Matthew’s Gospel begins in a way which most modern writers would counsel against: a long list of names, some complex and some unfamiliar. Matthew has a particular purpose. In his genealogy we see clearly the ability of God to ‘write straight with crooked lines’. God has used the twists and turns of each person’s story to fulfil his plan.
Spend some time today thinking about the people who have played a role in your faith journey. Thank God for these people.
