Advent Antiphons
From Mary’s sweet silence
Come, Word mutely spoken!
Pledge of our real life,
Come, Bread yet unbroken!
Seed of the Golden Wheat,
In us be sown.
Fullness of true Light,
Through us be known.
Secret held tenderly,
Guarded with Love,
Cradled in purity,
Child of the Dove,
COME!
~Sr. M. Charlita, I.H.M.
Robert, Cyrus. Mary Immaculate: God’s Mother and Mine. New York: Marist Press, 1946.
Advent Hands
I see the hands of Joseph.
Back and forth along bare wood they move.
There is worry in those working hands,
sorting out confusing thoughts with every stroke.
“How can this be, my beautiful Mary now with child?”
Rough with deep splinters, these hands,
small, painful splinters like tiny crosses
embedded deeply in this choice to stay with her.
He could have closed his hands to her,
said, “No” and let her go to stoning.
But, dear Joseph opened both his heart and hands
to this mother and her child.
Preparing in these days before
with working hands
and wood pressed tight between them.
It is these rough hands that will open
and be the first to hold the Child.
I see the hands of John,
worn from desert raging storms
and plucking locusts from sand ripped rocks
beneath the remnant of a Bethlehem star.
A howling wind like some lost wolf
cries out beneath the moon,
or was that John?
This loneliness,
enough to make a grown man mad.
He’s waiting for this, God’s whisper.
“Go now. He is coming.
You have prepared your hands enough.
Go. He needs your servant hands,
your cupping hands to lift the water,
and place his feet upon the path to service and to death.
Go now, John, and open your hands to him.
It is time.”
I see a fist held tight and fingers blanched to white.
Prying is no easy task.
These fingers find a way of pulling back to old positions,
protecting all that was and is.
Blanched to white. No openness. All fright.
But then the Spirit comes.
A holy Christmas dance begins
and blows between the twisted paths.
This fist opens
slowly,
gently,
beautifully,
the twisted fingers letting go.
Their rock-solid place in line has eased.
And one by one the fingers lift
True color is returned
And through the deepest of mysteries,
The holiest of holies,
O longing of longings
Beyond all human imagining
this fist,
as if awakened from Lazarus’ cold stone dream
reaches out to hold the tiny newborn hand of God.
Somewhere today
A costumed saint
Smooths his beard down
Over his padded belly
And waits
For the line of children
To press their lists into his hand,
To name the loot which will make
Their Christmas sufficiently merry.
But in this Advent time,
We pray for other saints
Ready to surprise the world
With unexpected gifts,
Making miracles by night
Or slipping into unholy places
With holy grace.
They bless the world with kindness,
Offer arms in the places of tears,
Stand with the small, the voiceless, the forgotten,
Feed, heal, comfort, forgive.
They remind us of the one who comes,
Not by sleigh or silver horse,
But by manger bed,
By human heart,
The great surprise,
The wondrous gift.
~Timothy Haut
Dear God,
As we journey down this Advent road,
grant us the courage to make peace.
Peace in our hearts,
Peace in our homes,
Peace in our communities.
Amen.
~Katherine Hawker
O Oriens
O come, O come Emmanuel
within this fragile vessel here to dwell.
O Child conceived by heaven’s power
give me thy strength: it is the hour.
O come, thou Wisdom from on high;
like any babe at life you cry;
for me, like any mother, birth
was hard, O light of earth.
O come, O come, thou Lord of might,
whose birth came hastily at night,
born in a stable, in blood and pain
is this the king who comes to reign?
O come, thou Rod of Jesse’s stem,
the stars will be thy diadem.
How can the infinite finite be?
Why choose, child, to be born of me?
O come, thou key of David, come,
open the door to my heart-home.
I cannot love thee as a king–
so fragile and so small a thing.
O come, thou Day-spring from on high:
I saw the signs that marked the sky.
I heard the beat of angels’ wings
I saw the shepherds and the kings.
O come, Desire of nations, be
simply a human child to me.
Let me not weep that you are born.
The night is gone. Now gleams the morn.
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel,
God’s Son, God’s Self, with us to dwell.
~Madeleine L’Engle
It isn’t even December and already my kids are being asked by neighbors and family, “What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?” And I too have fallen into this trap, reeled in by the lure of Good Friday and Cyber Monday trying to get the best deal on THE gift that will bring a big smile on Christmas morn.
We all know, don’t we, that true happiness can’t be bought and doesn’t come in tinsel-tied packages or on a back of sleigh. Life’s richest treasures are gifts of the heart. So, why do we fret over what to buy when the greatest and best presents are priceless and free?
Give your time, your love, a listening ear, a kind word, a smile, a hug, or wipe away a friend’s tear. These are the gifts God wants for us; these are the gifts that we really need.
The question shouldn’t be, what do you want, but rather: “What do you need for Christmas?” God has provided us with the perfect gift. A gift that won’t get old after a couple a days, a gift that won’t break, a gift that we need for now and for eternity.
Lord of all,
you are a God of plenty, a Lord who
provides
for us in our need.
As I begin these early days of Advent
help me to believe that you know what I
need.
Give me the courage to listen to your
voice
and the freedom
to open my heart to the graces you are
offering me to place my trust in you.
~this prayer for the 1st week of Advent (Wednesday) found here: http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/Advent/Daily-Prayer-4-weeks.pdf
“Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.” ~S. Smiles
