The first antiphon, 'O Wisdom' draws on two passages from the Apocrypha which praise wisdom. Some, perhaps many, Protestants will know the Apocrypha as the books that are in Catholic Bibles but not in Protestant ones. These books largely come from the inter-testamental times, between 400 B.C. and the birth of Christ. The sense that the Jewish Bible excluded them led the Reformers to do so as well, but these books have fed Christian reflection for centuries. It was the Bible St. Augustine read. As Guite writes, "sapientia is part of what John means by the Logos, 'the Word (who) was with God' (John 1:1), the coming Christ."
Here is the antiphon:
O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,
reaching from one end to the other mightily,
and sweetly ordering all things:
Come and teach us the way of prudence
Here is the conclusion of Malcolm Guite's sonnet:
Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring,
Come to me now, disguised as everything.
Guite writes about composing the sonnet:
"Writing the poem led me in the end to a strange paradox. The psalmist is taunted by the question, 'Where is now your God?' And it's a question that some more militant 'scientific' atheists of our own day still use to taunt Christians. And in one sense we cannot directly point to God because 'Sapientia, this underlying coherence and beauty, is not to be found anywhere as an item in the cosmos; it is not a single being, but the ground of being itself - not a single beauty but the source of all beauty. And yet, for the very same reason, there is a real sense in which we can point to everything, 'from one end to the other' of the cosmos, and say, 'There, can't you see?' For wisdom is both hidden and gloriously apparent." (Guite, Waiting on the Word, 69)
In this regard, consider what Paul says in Colossians 1:15-20:
"The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross."
Christ is the ordering power for all the symmetry, patterns, rhythm, music, mathematical precision that we find on this earth and even beyond, such as astronomical orbits. All things, all people, are made by Christ for Christ. To this end, where we find resistance to Christ within the creation, we trust that the creation itself is not alien to Christ. It is his own. As Dallas Willard writes in his book The Divine Conspiracy, we find in Jesus a mastery, a brilliance, an innate understanding of all things. This is some of what we can call to mind to consider that he is Wisdom.
Saturday, December 16, 2017
Friday, December 15, 2017
Saturday, December 16 - O Come O Come Emmanuel
In the devotion for the First Sunday of Advent, I referred to how Advent is not a time to pretend Jesus hadn't been born yet. This is true, in the sense that the 'Advent', or 'coming' that we expect now is not the coming of the infant Christ, but the second coming of the risen and ascended Christ. Even so, Malcolm Guite, in speaking about the seven "O Antiphon" prayers that eventually composed the famous hymn "O Come O Come Emmanuel", thinks its important to go back:
"The whole purpose of Advent is to be for a moment fully and consciously Before Christ. In that place of darkness and waiting, we look for his coming and do not presume too much that we already know or have it. Whoever compiled these prayers was able, imaginatively, to write 'BC', perhaps saying to themselves: 'If I hadn't heard of Christ, and I didn't know the name of Jesus, I would still long for a saviour. I would still need someone to come. Who would I need?" (Guite, Waiting on the Word, 67)
Guite answers his question with the words that make up the "O Antiphons": 'Wisdom', 'Lord', 'Root', 'Key', 'Dayspring', 'King of Nations', and 'Emmanuel'.
I heard an interview with Malcolm Guite with Ken Myers on 'Mars Hill Audio'. Guite spoke of the richness of these words for speaking about Christ with people who had soured on religion. I read two of Guite's books recently. I highly recommend them both: Waiting on the Word is an anthology of Guite's and other peoples' poetry for every day of Advent and Christmas, with Guite's annotations. Sounding the Seasons is a book of sonnets written by Guite that move through the whole Christian year. I just gave a copy to my mother for Christmas...OOPS, I mean...(just kidding, she already unwrapped it : - )
Through December 23, we'll move through these O Antiphons with the help of Guite's sonnets. Here are the verses of John Mason Neale's hymn, "O Come O Come Emmanuel", taken largely from the reprinting of them in George Grant's book, Christmas Spirit:
O come O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
O come, O come, Adonai,
Who in thy glorious majesty
From Sinai's mountain, clothed in awe,
Gavest thy folk the elder law.
O come, thou Branch of Jesse! Draw
The quarry from the lion's claw;
From the dread caverns of the grave,
From nether hell, thy people save.
O come, thou Key of David, come
And open wide our heavenly home;
Safeguard the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
O come, O come, thou Dayspring bright!
Pour on our souls thy healing light;
Dispel the long night's lingering gloom,
And pierce the shadows of the tomb.
O come, O King of Nations, bind
In one, the hearts of all mankind
Bid all our sad divisions cease
and be thyself our King of Peace
"The whole purpose of Advent is to be for a moment fully and consciously Before Christ. In that place of darkness and waiting, we look for his coming and do not presume too much that we already know or have it. Whoever compiled these prayers was able, imaginatively, to write 'BC', perhaps saying to themselves: 'If I hadn't heard of Christ, and I didn't know the name of Jesus, I would still long for a saviour. I would still need someone to come. Who would I need?" (Guite, Waiting on the Word, 67)
Guite answers his question with the words that make up the "O Antiphons": 'Wisdom', 'Lord', 'Root', 'Key', 'Dayspring', 'King of Nations', and 'Emmanuel'.
I heard an interview with Malcolm Guite with Ken Myers on 'Mars Hill Audio'. Guite spoke of the richness of these words for speaking about Christ with people who had soured on religion. I read two of Guite's books recently. I highly recommend them both: Waiting on the Word is an anthology of Guite's and other peoples' poetry for every day of Advent and Christmas, with Guite's annotations. Sounding the Seasons is a book of sonnets written by Guite that move through the whole Christian year. I just gave a copy to my mother for Christmas...OOPS, I mean...(just kidding, she already unwrapped it : - )
Through December 23, we'll move through these O Antiphons with the help of Guite's sonnets. Here are the verses of John Mason Neale's hymn, "O Come O Come Emmanuel", taken largely from the reprinting of them in George Grant's book, Christmas Spirit:
O come O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
O come, O come, Adonai,
Who in thy glorious majesty
From Sinai's mountain, clothed in awe,
Gavest thy folk the elder law.
O come, thou Branch of Jesse! Draw
The quarry from the lion's claw;
From the dread caverns of the grave,
From nether hell, thy people save.
O come, thou Key of David, come
And open wide our heavenly home;
Safeguard the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
O come, O come, thou Dayspring bright!
Pour on our souls thy healing light;
Dispel the long night's lingering gloom,
And pierce the shadows of the tomb.
O come, O King of Nations, bind
In one, the hearts of all mankind
Bid all our sad divisions cease
and be thyself our King of Peace
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Friday, December 15 - Nicholas of Myra, Part Three
Nicholas' biographer, Michael the Archimandrite, tells the tale of Nicholas' gifts, as quoted in Adam English's book, The Saint Who Would Be Santa Claus:
"Acting with caution, (Nicholas) gathered in a cloth a sufficient sum of gold coins which he secretly threw through the window of the man's house, and quickly returned to his home. When daylight came, the man got up from bed and found in the middle of the house a pile of money. He could not hold back his tears but was overjoyed, amazed and stunned. He gave thanks to God but also tried to understand the meaning of this good fortune. Deciding to accept the gift as if it had been given by God, the father of the girls took the serendipitously found gold and noticed that the sum corresponded to the amount of money needed for a dowry. Without delay he adorned the bridal chamber of his eldest daughter. And so his life once again became good, full of joy and peace of mind, thanks to the intervention of the holy Nicholas, who had created a way for his daughter to marry.
"Becoming aware of what the father had done, the man of God and generous alms-giver, Nicholas, seeing that his charity work had resulted in the festivities of a beautiful wedding and created an atmosphere of new joy, went again to the same window, tossed in a similar amount of money, and quickly returned to his home.
"When the father of the girls awoke and got up in the morning, he picked up the new and completely unexpected gift of money and fell on his face before God with cries of gratitude. He was almost unable to open his mouth at the arrival of this new gift. Deeply moved, he turned to God with words half-formed in his mind, praying in his heart with sincere supplications: "Tell me, O Lord, what good angel from among the people you designated for us. Tell me who has prepared this banquet full of delicious treats. Who is administering the riches of your immense kindness to humble people like us? Thanks to that person we have been released, beyond all hope, from misery and the spiritual death of sin that had ensnared us. Behold, for your indescribable gift allowed me to legally marry my second daughter, freeing her and me from the ugly desperation and wickedness in which we had fallen. Glorify your holy name, and glory be to your great goodness without end - which is for us, your unworthy people." (English, The Saint Who Would Be Santa Claus, 60-61)
English notes that the story tugs on the heartstrings, yet may verge on melodrama and be overly sentimental. But despite this, English says, it makes for a compelling story:
"This may be in part due to the fact that Michael fixes our attention on the father's spiritual journey, and this is what he communicates with clarity. The father's salvation was not only from the misery of financial catastrophe but from spiritual crisis: the spiritual death of sin. In his prayer, the man shows gratitude to God and to God's secret agent of grace. The gifts were divine answers to desperate prayers." (English, 61)
Let's pick up the end of the story with Michael, as quoted extensively by English:
"Having conducted the marriage of his second child like the first, the father, who had enjoyed the gifts that God had sent him through his servant Nicholas, spent the following nights in vigil. Staying sober and alert through the night, he hoped that the stranger would bring a dowry to his third daughter also. Because he had brought gifts to the other sisters without being recognized, (the father) would have to remain watchful so as not to miss him while sleeping.
"While the man tried with great effort to remain awake through those long nights, Nicholas, the worshiper of the Trinity and a servant of the one Christ of the Holy Trinity, our true God, came in the night to the usual place. He wanted the third daughter to be able to marry in the same way as the others. Surreptitiously throwing an equal amount of money through the window, he turned away in silence. But soon as the gold landed inside, the father of the girls, who had been expecting the return of our saint, immediately ran out and caught him. Recognizing who he was, (the father) fell prostrate at the feet and broke into tears and sobs. He thanked him warmly and with many words praised him before God as the savior of him and his three daughters. He said: "If it were not for your goodness, which was stirred up by our Lord Jesus Christ, I would have long since consigned my life to ruin and shame."" (English, 61-62)
Again, I highly recommend Adam English's book to anyone. In closing, I'll quote from English's observations about the story's meaning:
"First, Nicholas demonstrated the value of intentional, targeted giving, that is, giving in order to meet specific needs as opposed to giving randomly for the sake of generosity or for ridding oneself of possessions. Second, Nicholas' choice of recipients imparts important implications. By giving his money to three world-forsaken girls so that they might marry, Nicholas affirmed the moral value of marriage in an age when its worth was being severely tested. Third, Nicholas offered a compelling model of ordinary goodness in which good deeds need not be miraculous, angelic, or incredible. The episode shows that Christian generosity can be mundane; anyone might do what Nicholas did. Fourth, Nicholas laid down the highest challenge to those who would strive for Christian virtue: anonymity. Nicholas' example calls those who would take pride in their good words to give in secret." (English, 66)
"Acting with caution, (Nicholas) gathered in a cloth a sufficient sum of gold coins which he secretly threw through the window of the man's house, and quickly returned to his home. When daylight came, the man got up from bed and found in the middle of the house a pile of money. He could not hold back his tears but was overjoyed, amazed and stunned. He gave thanks to God but also tried to understand the meaning of this good fortune. Deciding to accept the gift as if it had been given by God, the father of the girls took the serendipitously found gold and noticed that the sum corresponded to the amount of money needed for a dowry. Without delay he adorned the bridal chamber of his eldest daughter. And so his life once again became good, full of joy and peace of mind, thanks to the intervention of the holy Nicholas, who had created a way for his daughter to marry.
"Becoming aware of what the father had done, the man of God and generous alms-giver, Nicholas, seeing that his charity work had resulted in the festivities of a beautiful wedding and created an atmosphere of new joy, went again to the same window, tossed in a similar amount of money, and quickly returned to his home.
"When the father of the girls awoke and got up in the morning, he picked up the new and completely unexpected gift of money and fell on his face before God with cries of gratitude. He was almost unable to open his mouth at the arrival of this new gift. Deeply moved, he turned to God with words half-formed in his mind, praying in his heart with sincere supplications: "Tell me, O Lord, what good angel from among the people you designated for us. Tell me who has prepared this banquet full of delicious treats. Who is administering the riches of your immense kindness to humble people like us? Thanks to that person we have been released, beyond all hope, from misery and the spiritual death of sin that had ensnared us. Behold, for your indescribable gift allowed me to legally marry my second daughter, freeing her and me from the ugly desperation and wickedness in which we had fallen. Glorify your holy name, and glory be to your great goodness without end - which is for us, your unworthy people." (English, The Saint Who Would Be Santa Claus, 60-61)
English notes that the story tugs on the heartstrings, yet may verge on melodrama and be overly sentimental. But despite this, English says, it makes for a compelling story:
"This may be in part due to the fact that Michael fixes our attention on the father's spiritual journey, and this is what he communicates with clarity. The father's salvation was not only from the misery of financial catastrophe but from spiritual crisis: the spiritual death of sin. In his prayer, the man shows gratitude to God and to God's secret agent of grace. The gifts were divine answers to desperate prayers." (English, 61)
Let's pick up the end of the story with Michael, as quoted extensively by English:
"Having conducted the marriage of his second child like the first, the father, who had enjoyed the gifts that God had sent him through his servant Nicholas, spent the following nights in vigil. Staying sober and alert through the night, he hoped that the stranger would bring a dowry to his third daughter also. Because he had brought gifts to the other sisters without being recognized, (the father) would have to remain watchful so as not to miss him while sleeping.
"While the man tried with great effort to remain awake through those long nights, Nicholas, the worshiper of the Trinity and a servant of the one Christ of the Holy Trinity, our true God, came in the night to the usual place. He wanted the third daughter to be able to marry in the same way as the others. Surreptitiously throwing an equal amount of money through the window, he turned away in silence. But soon as the gold landed inside, the father of the girls, who had been expecting the return of our saint, immediately ran out and caught him. Recognizing who he was, (the father) fell prostrate at the feet and broke into tears and sobs. He thanked him warmly and with many words praised him before God as the savior of him and his three daughters. He said: "If it were not for your goodness, which was stirred up by our Lord Jesus Christ, I would have long since consigned my life to ruin and shame."" (English, 61-62)
Again, I highly recommend Adam English's book to anyone. In closing, I'll quote from English's observations about the story's meaning:
"First, Nicholas demonstrated the value of intentional, targeted giving, that is, giving in order to meet specific needs as opposed to giving randomly for the sake of generosity or for ridding oneself of possessions. Second, Nicholas' choice of recipients imparts important implications. By giving his money to three world-forsaken girls so that they might marry, Nicholas affirmed the moral value of marriage in an age when its worth was being severely tested. Third, Nicholas offered a compelling model of ordinary goodness in which good deeds need not be miraculous, angelic, or incredible. The episode shows that Christian generosity can be mundane; anyone might do what Nicholas did. Fourth, Nicholas laid down the highest challenge to those who would strive for Christian virtue: anonymity. Nicholas' example calls those who would take pride in their good words to give in secret." (English, 66)
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Thursday, December 14 - Evermore and Evermore
"Of the Father's Love Begotten" was written by Spanish poet Aurelius Clemens Prudentius, who lived from 348-413 A.D. Here is how George Grant describes Prudentius' life:
"Prudentius was a well-educated lawyer, judge, and chief of Emperor Honorius' imperial bodyguard. He exchanged all his worldly success for spiritual contemplation when he entered a monastery late in life." (Grant, Christmas Spirit, 56-57)
Here is John Mason Neale's English translation of Prudentius' hymn from the original Latin:
Of the Father's love begotten
Ere the worlds began to be,
He is Alpha and Omega,
He the Source, the Ending he.
Of the things that are, that have been,
And that future years shall see Evermore and evermore.
O that birth forever blessed!
When the Virgin full of grace,
By the Holy Ghost conceiving,
Bore the Savior of our race,
And the babe, the world's Redeemer,
First revealed his sacred face Evermore and evermore
He assumed this mortal body,
Frail and feeble, doomed to die,
That the race from dust created
Might not perish utterly
Which the dreadful Law had sentenced
In the depths of hell to lie Evermore and evermore
This is he whom once the sibyls
with united voice foretold,
Whom the Scriptures of the prophets
Promised in their faithful word.
Let the world unite to praise him,
Long desired, foreseen of old Evermore and evermore
O ye heights of heaven adore him!
Angel hosts, his praises sing!
All dominions bow before him,
And extol your God and King!
Let no tongue on earth be silent,
Every voice in concert ring Evermore and evermore
Christ, to Thee, with God the Father,
And, O Holy Ghost to Thee,
Hymn, and chant, and high thanksgiving,
And unwearied praises be,
Honour, glory, and dominion
And eternal victory, Evermore and evermore
Anthony Esolen comments on the 'evermore and evermore', or 'saeculorum saeculis' which closes every stanza:
"The first time I heard this hymn, sung to the chant Divinum Mysterium, those words evermore and evermore, the final line of every stanza, moved me nearly to tears. How simple they are, yet how well they capture the meaning of Christ's dwelling among us! Before that night in Bethlehem, before there was a universe at all, Christ was begotten of the Father's love: corde natus, born from the heart. Prudentius knew there was no time before the Son of God was begotten. But the word natus expresses the intimate relation of the Son to the Father, for He is begotten from the Father's heart, His inmost being. Then if all things past and present and to come spring from the One begotten in love, and have their clausula or completion also in Him, they too partake of this love, not only for a time, but saeculorum saeculis, for the ages, eternity." (Esolen, Real Music, 81-82)
"Prudentius was a well-educated lawyer, judge, and chief of Emperor Honorius' imperial bodyguard. He exchanged all his worldly success for spiritual contemplation when he entered a monastery late in life." (Grant, Christmas Spirit, 56-57)
Here is John Mason Neale's English translation of Prudentius' hymn from the original Latin:
Of the Father's love begotten
Ere the worlds began to be,
He is Alpha and Omega,
He the Source, the Ending he.
Of the things that are, that have been,
And that future years shall see Evermore and evermore.
O that birth forever blessed!
When the Virgin full of grace,
By the Holy Ghost conceiving,
Bore the Savior of our race,
And the babe, the world's Redeemer,
First revealed his sacred face Evermore and evermore
He assumed this mortal body,
Frail and feeble, doomed to die,
That the race from dust created
Might not perish utterly
Which the dreadful Law had sentenced
In the depths of hell to lie Evermore and evermore
This is he whom once the sibyls
with united voice foretold,
Whom the Scriptures of the prophets
Promised in their faithful word.
Let the world unite to praise him,
Long desired, foreseen of old Evermore and evermore
O ye heights of heaven adore him!
Angel hosts, his praises sing!
All dominions bow before him,
And extol your God and King!
Let no tongue on earth be silent,
Every voice in concert ring Evermore and evermore
Christ, to Thee, with God the Father,
And, O Holy Ghost to Thee,
Hymn, and chant, and high thanksgiving,
And unwearied praises be,
Honour, glory, and dominion
And eternal victory, Evermore and evermore
Anthony Esolen comments on the 'evermore and evermore', or 'saeculorum saeculis' which closes every stanza:
"The first time I heard this hymn, sung to the chant Divinum Mysterium, those words evermore and evermore, the final line of every stanza, moved me nearly to tears. How simple they are, yet how well they capture the meaning of Christ's dwelling among us! Before that night in Bethlehem, before there was a universe at all, Christ was begotten of the Father's love: corde natus, born from the heart. Prudentius knew there was no time before the Son of God was begotten. But the word natus expresses the intimate relation of the Son to the Father, for He is begotten from the Father's heart, His inmost being. Then if all things past and present and to come spring from the One begotten in love, and have their clausula or completion also in Him, they too partake of this love, not only for a time, but saeculorum saeculis, for the ages, eternity." (Esolen, Real Music, 81-82)
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Wednesday, December 13 - Lucy
Malcolm Guite reflects upon the tradition of St. Lucy's Day in northern European countries:
"...many people will be familiar with the Scandinavian celebrations in which the eldest daughter of the family rises early, robed in white and with a crown of berries and lit candles on her head. She brings holiday food to her family while they sing 'Sankta Lucia', and thus the first celebration of the coming Christmas season is ushered in." (Guite, Waiting on the Word, 53-54)
Lucy means 'light', and December 13 was once the winter solstice day before calendars shifted. In a season when all the days seem to be dark, the solstice marks the darkest of these days. So, as Guite notes, it made sense for an early Christian martyr whose name means 'light' to have her festivities on the year's darkest day.
That day, of course, is now the 21st. But you and I may yet need an excuse to hold out for light on this, the 13th of December, even if it isn't the darkest day of the year! Monday night, I returned with my wife and son from a trip to Dallas, and I drove our car from Orlando to Jacksonville beginning at around 8:45pm. Since my son fell asleep instantly, the car stayed quiet. The frenzy of the Orlando traffic amidst the twists and turns of I-4 gave way to the quiet, subdued, monotonous quality of I-95. Today, I awoke to people to see, small festivities with colleagues, laughter and merriness. Bright times! Yet, I was subdued and weighed down. It is the season of cheer. Yet, I felt all day that the wick was burning low. I was in coffee shops and happy meetings, yet I still felt like I was driving out on that dark road, staying focused on the lights in front of me. Many members of our church travel during the week for work. I enjoy my long conversations with them as they are on 'windshield' time. They are en route - physically, emotionally, spiritually. I think of friends who suffer from depression, for whom there is a darkness weighing them down throughout the year, and not only when the world is darker than usual.
Clearly, the solstice has changed dates over time. And so it does for each of us. In winter, when the days are darker, there are some days that are darker than others. More sad. More bleak.
A friend taught a class tonight that clued me into the way the dark and light complement one another on Christmas Day. At midnight, the congregation gathers in the dark beneath the star to remember the angels announcement of the birth of Christ. At dawn, the congregation now gathers at the manger itself to behold the gift of this new life - God in the flesh, the new birth which contains within itself the new birth of each Christian to come. Adding a moral dimension to the light and dark, the Apostle John writes: "the light shines in the darkness and darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)
Even if there is no 'Lucy' to greet you with breakfast in bed and crowns of berries in her hair, 'Lucy' may greet you tomorrow as she greeted me today - in repentance at my self-pity, in prayerful yearnings for health to come to all the sniffling, coughing people I know, in compassion toward all the people, so many people, who are way more exhausted than me today. When its cloudy, dark, and dreary, or even if its sunny, but everything's cloudy on the inside, look for the light. Look for 'Lucy'.
"...many people will be familiar with the Scandinavian celebrations in which the eldest daughter of the family rises early, robed in white and with a crown of berries and lit candles on her head. She brings holiday food to her family while they sing 'Sankta Lucia', and thus the first celebration of the coming Christmas season is ushered in." (Guite, Waiting on the Word, 53-54)
Lucy means 'light', and December 13 was once the winter solstice day before calendars shifted. In a season when all the days seem to be dark, the solstice marks the darkest of these days. So, as Guite notes, it made sense for an early Christian martyr whose name means 'light' to have her festivities on the year's darkest day.
That day, of course, is now the 21st. But you and I may yet need an excuse to hold out for light on this, the 13th of December, even if it isn't the darkest day of the year! Monday night, I returned with my wife and son from a trip to Dallas, and I drove our car from Orlando to Jacksonville beginning at around 8:45pm. Since my son fell asleep instantly, the car stayed quiet. The frenzy of the Orlando traffic amidst the twists and turns of I-4 gave way to the quiet, subdued, monotonous quality of I-95. Today, I awoke to people to see, small festivities with colleagues, laughter and merriness. Bright times! Yet, I was subdued and weighed down. It is the season of cheer. Yet, I felt all day that the wick was burning low. I was in coffee shops and happy meetings, yet I still felt like I was driving out on that dark road, staying focused on the lights in front of me. Many members of our church travel during the week for work. I enjoy my long conversations with them as they are on 'windshield' time. They are en route - physically, emotionally, spiritually. I think of friends who suffer from depression, for whom there is a darkness weighing them down throughout the year, and not only when the world is darker than usual.
Clearly, the solstice has changed dates over time. And so it does for each of us. In winter, when the days are darker, there are some days that are darker than others. More sad. More bleak.
A friend taught a class tonight that clued me into the way the dark and light complement one another on Christmas Day. At midnight, the congregation gathers in the dark beneath the star to remember the angels announcement of the birth of Christ. At dawn, the congregation now gathers at the manger itself to behold the gift of this new life - God in the flesh, the new birth which contains within itself the new birth of each Christian to come. Adding a moral dimension to the light and dark, the Apostle John writes: "the light shines in the darkness and darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)
Even if there is no 'Lucy' to greet you with breakfast in bed and crowns of berries in her hair, 'Lucy' may greet you tomorrow as she greeted me today - in repentance at my self-pity, in prayerful yearnings for health to come to all the sniffling, coughing people I know, in compassion toward all the people, so many people, who are way more exhausted than me today. When its cloudy, dark, and dreary, or even if its sunny, but everything's cloudy on the inside, look for the light. Look for 'Lucy'.
Monday, December 11, 2017
Tuesday, December 12 - Tree of Life
Trees have often been objects of religious symbolism.
Francis Weiser writes about the origin of Christmas trees:
"During the sixteenth century the people in western Germany, on the left bank of the Rhine, began to combine the two symbols they had in their homes on December 24 - the Paradise tree with the Christmas light. Was not the Paradise tree itself a beautiful, live pyramid? Why not transfer the decorations from the lifeless wooden pyramid to the tree? This is exactly what they did. They took first the glass balls and tinsel from the wooden pyramid and put them on the Paradise tree (which already bore apples and sweets). The "star of Bethlehem" was transferred from the pyramid to the top of the tree; and the Christmas crib, which had been standing at the foot of the pyramid, was now put under the tree." (Francis Weiser, Handbook of Christian Feasts and Customs, p. 81)
James Jordan comments:
"The Christmas tree has its origins in the medieval paradise tree, decorated with apples, and the North European Christmas light, a treelike stand decorated with boughs and candles. The stylized fruits (balls and ornaments) of our Christmas tree, and its electric lights, still speak of glory and beauty, and point us to the nativity of Christ, the Tree of Life." (James Jordan, Through New Eyes, p. 93)
Boniface of Crediton was a Christian missionary who lived from 680-755 A.D. One night, there was going to be a pagan sacrifice at the sacred Oak of Thor, and a young girl was to be sacrificed. Boniface made it to the scene in time to disrupt the sacrifice. He told of the ultimate sacrifice Christ made on the cross, and how there was no need for others. George Grant picks up the story from there:
"After explaining to them the once and for all provision of the Gospel, he turned toward the sacred grove. With the sacrificial knife in hand, he began hacking off low hanging branches. Passing them around the circle, he told each family to take the small fir boughs home as a reminder of the completeness of Christ's work on the tree of Calvary. They were to adorn their hearths with the tokens of His grace. They might even chop great logs from the grove as fuel for their home fires, he suggested - not so much to herald the destruction of their pagan ways but rather to memorialize the provision of Christ's coming. Upon these things they were to contemplate over the course of the next four weeks, until the great celebration of Christmas." (George Grant, Christmas Spirit, 88-89)
Francis Weiser writes about the origin of Christmas trees:
"During the sixteenth century the people in western Germany, on the left bank of the Rhine, began to combine the two symbols they had in their homes on December 24 - the Paradise tree with the Christmas light. Was not the Paradise tree itself a beautiful, live pyramid? Why not transfer the decorations from the lifeless wooden pyramid to the tree? This is exactly what they did. They took first the glass balls and tinsel from the wooden pyramid and put them on the Paradise tree (which already bore apples and sweets). The "star of Bethlehem" was transferred from the pyramid to the top of the tree; and the Christmas crib, which had been standing at the foot of the pyramid, was now put under the tree." (Francis Weiser, Handbook of Christian Feasts and Customs, p. 81)
James Jordan comments:
"The Christmas tree has its origins in the medieval paradise tree, decorated with apples, and the North European Christmas light, a treelike stand decorated with boughs and candles. The stylized fruits (balls and ornaments) of our Christmas tree, and its electric lights, still speak of glory and beauty, and point us to the nativity of Christ, the Tree of Life." (James Jordan, Through New Eyes, p. 93)
Boniface of Crediton was a Christian missionary who lived from 680-755 A.D. One night, there was going to be a pagan sacrifice at the sacred Oak of Thor, and a young girl was to be sacrificed. Boniface made it to the scene in time to disrupt the sacrifice. He told of the ultimate sacrifice Christ made on the cross, and how there was no need for others. George Grant picks up the story from there:
"After explaining to them the once and for all provision of the Gospel, he turned toward the sacred grove. With the sacrificial knife in hand, he began hacking off low hanging branches. Passing them around the circle, he told each family to take the small fir boughs home as a reminder of the completeness of Christ's work on the tree of Calvary. They were to adorn their hearths with the tokens of His grace. They might even chop great logs from the grove as fuel for their home fires, he suggested - not so much to herald the destruction of their pagan ways but rather to memorialize the provision of Christ's coming. Upon these things they were to contemplate over the course of the next four weeks, until the great celebration of Christmas." (George Grant, Christmas Spirit, 88-89)
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Monday, December 11 - Nicholas of Myra, Part Two
In situations of extreme poverty in the ancient Roman empire, when families had to pay the provincial tax collectors but did not have the means, they sometimes had to resort to the soul-crushing decision to sell their own children. In his book, The Saint Who Would Be Santa Claus, Adam English shows us what we learn about this vile trade from the ways people, even emperors, tried to stop it. The Roman emperor Constantine made public funds available in Africa and Italy to provide food, clothing, and even cash for families in crisis lest they be tempted to abandon or sell their children. In one sermon, Basil of Caesarea remembers being in a marketplace and witnessing a father selling his children because of his debt. Another early Christian pastor, Ambrose of Milan, tries to imagine the impossible decisions of such moments:
"Who, he asks, "should be sold first? The father miserably sifts through his pathetic options and decides: "I will sell the firstborn. But, he was the first to call me father. He is the first among the children and the one who will bring me honor in my old age. So, I will put up the younger. But that one is so tender and in need of love. I am ashamed to sell one and I pity the other." Ambrose makes the pain of the decision palpable. Who could possibly look his child in the eye and say, "My son, I am selling you so I can eat?" (English, 58)
On one occasion in Patara, we're told by Nicholas' biographer that a neighbor had become so desperate that he resolved to sell his daughters one by one into prostitution. By law and by custom, the family of the bride was required to give a dowry of "property, business, or money to the husband's family as part of the marriage agreement. It was a tradition that dated back to the Code of Hammurabi (c. 1790 B.C.) and continued as a widespread practice into the nineteenth century of our own era; it is still in effect in some cultures to this day." (61) Unable to pay a dowry, the man had no prospects to find a marriage for any of his three daughters. So, "'desiring to provide for his own survival and abandoning hope in God,' the father decided to do the unthinkable and sell the sexual services of his daughters." (58)
In all we've seen so far, despite society's disapproval and the church's condemnation, this was something the father could do. Nicholas' biographer describes how God, "who does not want the work of his hands to slip into the guilt of sin" sent Nicholas to rescue the family from poverty. English reminds us of prostitution's prevalence in the ancient world, that the city of Pompeii supported a number of brothels, one of which was divided into ten separate rooms, that there are lurid scenes and inscriptions written upon the walls of the ancient baths, and that Nicholas must have wondered what he might do to rescue these girls from this fate. Having turned to the Scriptures for consolation, reading in the Proverbs the way that virtuous action on behalf of the poor is emphasized, he resolved to become their "protector." (59). "Compelled by the Scriptures and his Christian convictions, he placed a few gold coins in a small money-purse, tied the string, and in the dead of night tossed it through an open window into the man's house." (59-60)
(to be continued on December 15)
"Who, he asks, "should be sold first? The father miserably sifts through his pathetic options and decides: "I will sell the firstborn. But, he was the first to call me father. He is the first among the children and the one who will bring me honor in my old age. So, I will put up the younger. But that one is so tender and in need of love. I am ashamed to sell one and I pity the other." Ambrose makes the pain of the decision palpable. Who could possibly look his child in the eye and say, "My son, I am selling you so I can eat?" (English, 58)
On one occasion in Patara, we're told by Nicholas' biographer that a neighbor had become so desperate that he resolved to sell his daughters one by one into prostitution. By law and by custom, the family of the bride was required to give a dowry of "property, business, or money to the husband's family as part of the marriage agreement. It was a tradition that dated back to the Code of Hammurabi (c. 1790 B.C.) and continued as a widespread practice into the nineteenth century of our own era; it is still in effect in some cultures to this day." (61) Unable to pay a dowry, the man had no prospects to find a marriage for any of his three daughters. So, "'desiring to provide for his own survival and abandoning hope in God,' the father decided to do the unthinkable and sell the sexual services of his daughters." (58)
In all we've seen so far, despite society's disapproval and the church's condemnation, this was something the father could do. Nicholas' biographer describes how God, "who does not want the work of his hands to slip into the guilt of sin" sent Nicholas to rescue the family from poverty. English reminds us of prostitution's prevalence in the ancient world, that the city of Pompeii supported a number of brothels, one of which was divided into ten separate rooms, that there are lurid scenes and inscriptions written upon the walls of the ancient baths, and that Nicholas must have wondered what he might do to rescue these girls from this fate. Having turned to the Scriptures for consolation, reading in the Proverbs the way that virtuous action on behalf of the poor is emphasized, he resolved to become their "protector." (59). "Compelled by the Scriptures and his Christian convictions, he placed a few gold coins in a small money-purse, tied the string, and in the dead of night tossed it through an open window into the man's house." (59-60)
(to be continued on December 15)
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