O Emmanuel

O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, awaited by the nations and their Savior, come and save us, O Lord our God

Here we are at our final O Antiphon, even on the exact day it would be sung. Here we find, Emmanuel, which translates as 'God with us'. We could start talking about the origin of this name in a Hebrew prophecy, given to a king of Israel, and whether it really is a prophecy of Jesus or muddled good wishes to a king for a son and successor or what it means for a virgin to bear a son or even whether virgin is the right word for the Hebrew term. We could do all that, but I think we would have lost the point of this anitiphon.

That point, I think, is that God is with us. That is, we aren't talking about a God who has just pushed the world into motion and stood out of the way nor are we talking about a God who is ever on the watch to catch humans at some petty breach of an equally petty law code, so He can punish them. We are talking about a God who is truly with us, who knows what it is to be human and who wants the best for us and is willing to act to help us towards that. That was the whole reason for Jesus coming to Earth over two thousand years ago- to challenge what is wrong with the world and to bring us back to the goodness which God created.

Yet, this may still sound abstract and vague. It doesn't have to be. It really just takes being attentive to the little things, where God can break through the ordinariness of everyday- through some quiet time in the morning, or a conversation with a friend or a random act of kindness (your own or someone else's). Those are all evidence that God is with us and you. After all, as St. Paul says, "If God is for us, who is against us" (Romans, 8, 31). So, my wish for you as we approach Christmas is that you'll see  Emmanuel wherever you go, this Christmas season.

O King of the Nations

O King of the Nations, object of their desire, the cornerstone which makes both one, come and save humanity whom you made from the mud. 

We're not used to talking about kings. Or, at least, kings with the power to rule without constitutional impediments. As a student of history, that isn't necessarily a bad thing. While a good king could mitigate the abuses of monarchy to a considerable degree, they were few and far between. Mediocre ones merely exposed the corruption in a system which discouraged people from engaging in their common good and the bad ones, the bad ones were disasters. That is, of course, why most countries either got rid of their monarchs or restrained them by making them subordinate to democratic institutions.

Christ the King is different because he isn't that kind of king. He said as much to Pilate when He said His kingdom was not of this world. This king unites. He is the king of the Nations. That is, He is the king of all people at a time when people were looking for the promised King of the Jews as the answer to the Scriptural prophecies. He is that too, of course, but, just as the Old Testament predicted that the true Messiah will save the Jews and the Gentiles (the Nations) would come to Him for justice, Jesus too attracted non-Jews as well. He doesn't do that by fighting or oppression, but because of who he was and is. He is the object of our desire because of who he is. Even non-Christians find Jesus compelling, even if they don't believe the same things about Him as we do. Like the cornerstone, he can unite us in ways we don't quite anticipate.

And we're back, in this antiphon, to salvation. Have you noticed that most of the antiphons deal with some variation on salvation? They are asking to be delivered, redeemed, released from prison, illuminated when in the dark and, of course, saved. These are Old Testament images, so, likely, they were originally images of national liberation of the Jews from their various oppressors. Yet, I don't think that is all they are. They are also a promising a liberation of ourselves from our bad thoughts and impulses. They look to bridge the divide between us and God which can open up when we get too caught up in ourselves. They too are a call for bringing us back into harmony with God and with our own true selves as God has made us. This becomes clear in this antiphon as we ask Christ the King for salvation because He made us. That seems as a good a reason as any.

Reflection: How can I  unite, not divide, people?

O Rising Sun

O Rising Sun, splendor of eternal light and sun of justice, come, and illuminate those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death. 

Here we pass from the darkness of the O Key of David to the breaking light of dawn, from the prison to the promise of a new day. The hope for freedom which was hidden in the previous antiphon breaks forth into a day which realizes those hopes. It is hard not to feel, at least, a little hopeful on a bright morning, even if the night before has been a fearful one. The dawn comes with a new start and a chance to turn away from the darkness towards a light which reveals the good in the world.

And I think we need this dawn all the more as we close out this year. All the hopes and expectations that we had at the beginning of this year look rather different as we reach the end of the year. Momentous and disturbing events have happened this year whose import or impact we cannot yet know. That can lead us to fear and to the darkness that fear can bring. It is understandable to feel that the light has failed and that we are left in darkness.

Yet, this antiphon doesn't leave us in the darkness, but affirms the power of light and the power of justice. It shines light into places where, perhaps, we don't want to look with the promise that somehow, sometime, this too will be made subject to God's justice and will be redeemed as the good thing that God had made of it. It brings to light the hope which can sustain us in times which seem less than promising. It is the hope that God can fix this- all of this. That can be a comfort, but also a challenge because it asks us whether we are willing to look at what the light of dawn reveals and hope for a better day. What hope does the light of dawn reveal in you?

Reflection: How can you bring light to those around you?

O Key of David

O key of David and sceptre of the house of Israel, which opens and no one closes, which closes and no one opens, come and lead out the captive who sits in darkness. 

Today, we focus on a key. That seems odd because it seems such an ordinary object. Everyone uses keys as they come in and out of the house, if nothing else. Yet, we are talking about a rather special key, King David's key; a key which seems to work where no one else does. There is an authority behind this key which can't be matched. That makes sense, of course, because it is not only a king's key, but it was King David's, a man after Gods heart, as Scripture says. For later generations, it was a symbol of power and that sense of power, especially its unique ability to open and close what no one else can has been interpreted, at least, as much spiritually as materially. It, probably, lies behind our image of Peter as the key-holder to heaven.

Yet, if we take this as a vision of Jesus, that the Key of David represents Him, we also have to notice what He opens. He doesn't open treasuries or beautiful palaces. He opens a prison and a dark one too. What's more he doesn't open the prison to throw people in, but rather to lead them out. That's a comforting image, especially when I'm feeling stuck or overwhelmed; that Jesus can open up my life and lead me out to a better place.  So many people today feel trapped, by the expectations of others or themselves or by the many, many things they feel they need to do. Yet, what Jesus does can open up one's life to show the possibilities that freedom can give. It is, in that sense, the key to opening up one's soul to what God alone can give us and only God knows where that could lead.

Reflection: What can the Key of David open for you? 

Root of Jesse

O Root of Jesse, who stands as the standard for the people, before whom kings become silent and to whom the peoples pray, come to deliver us and don't delay. 

This anitphon, by any standard, has some pretty odd imagery. The combination of botanical imagery with royal imagery might seem odd, but it is connected through the figure of Jesse. Jesse was the father of King David, that man after God's own heart, whose descendants were to rule Israel forever, but didn't through their own unfaithfulness. That failure seems like God's promise to David failed, but it was ultimately fulfilled by the birth of Jesus through a line of ancestors which go back to David. So, Jesus proves to the culmination of this line starting from Jesse and, thus, the root of Jesse.

So, in this antiphon, we see this root of Jesse as a focal point for our lives. The root of Jesse becomes the standard, the military standard in Latin, which we follow as we seek Christ. It is the standard which even powerful people like kings respect. It is the focal point of our prayers in much the same way as Jesus is. It is a mediator between his kings and people and God. That is a powerful thing.

Yet, what are we praying for? Deliverance, it seems, but from what? For Israel, it was from dangerous neighbours or their own weakness. Later, it was from foreign oppression. For us, it might be less dramatic, but no less real- perhaps from our own fears, perhaps from a difficult personal situation. Yet, deliverance from difficulties is something we all need from time to time.

Reflective Practice: Find an image of Jesus which evokes what he means to you. Sit with it for a time quietly. What does this image make you feel?

O Adonai

O Adonai, ruler of the house of Israel, who appeared to Moses in the flame of the burning bush and gave him the law in Sinai, come to redeem us with outstretched arms.

This antiphon offers one of the freakiest images in the Bible- the burning bush. It isn't so much that the bush is burning, but that it won't stop burning. It burns brightly, but it isn't consumed. That suggest that its fuel, if you like, isn't limited to the leaves and the wood of the bush, but comes from somewhere else. No wonder Moses realizes there is something sacred about where he is and takes off his sandals. He realizes that this flame is meant to represent the flame of God's love for us which also will not be consumed.

Nor is it coincidental that this antiphon ends with redemption with God's arms outstretched. If we find God's love in the burning bush, we find the sacred ground where God meets us, where we are in order to bring us back into relationship with Him. Redemption is a return, a 'buying back' of us by God, so that we can return to our real homes. This Adonai, this ruler of the house of Israel, through the burning bush, started Moses and his Hebrew people on a journey back to their promised homes and back to an intimate, if troubled relationship with Him. They, slaves of the Egyptian pharoah, were bought back and returned to freedom and the God who loves them right up to today.

So, I wonder, if this antiphon isn't meant to make us think where our burning bush, that sacred ground, is. Where are we going to find our 'buying back'?

Reflection: Consider where you've found a 'burning bush', a bit of sacred ground. What was it like? What did you do to respect that ground? What did that encounter do for you?

O Wisdom

O Wisdom, coming from the mouth of the Most High, reaching out from all places and ordering things mightily and sweetly, teach us good sense

Reflection: Wisdom is a hard word to pin down. It is more than knowledge or cleverness, more than shrewdness. Wisdom contains more than merely an understanding of human nature or of the world. Instead, it draws everything in the world together, gathers it all and makes it all make sense. No wonder that, while we talk about wise people, wisdom came to be associated with God early on in Israel's history. Only the Creator can have the breadth of perspective to draw from the beginning and end of history and still make it all make sense. Wisdom may trickle down to humans, but it starts with God. In fact, Wisdom is often given her own voice (in Proverbs) and is even identified with Christ, the second person of the Trinity

How do we respond to wisdom? We know people, both now and in the past, who, within human limitations, are wise. They have learned the virtue of prudentia, which, while difficult to translate in English, means something like 'good sense'. Wise people are not wise, just because they have a broad perspective, but also because they know their limits and that they are not God. '. Limits are never popular, of course, but they are useful. They allow us to concentrate on what we can do, instead of what we think we should do. So, prudence, in helping us to understand our limits, helps us make decisions about our lives which make sense. Just like wisdom only human sized.

Practice: How does wisdom work in your life? Create a 'O Wisdom' for own life. If you want to share it, you can reply to the Remind app and I'll post it. I'll post an example later today (Monday)