23 December: O Emmanuel

O Emmanuel, our King and Lawgiver, the Desire of all nations and their Saviour: Come and save us, O Lord our God ... candles light up the chapter and choir stalls in Lichfield Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2010)

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

23 December, O Emmanuel (O God is with us):

O Emmanuel, Rex et legifer noster,
exspectatio Gentium, et Salvator earum:
veni ad salvandum nos, Domine, Deus noster.

O Emmanuel, our King and Lawgiver,
the Desire of all nations and their Saviour:
Come and save us, O Lord our God.

c.f. Isaiah 7: 14.

Isaiah prophesied:

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel (Isaiah 7: 14).

Emmanuel means “God is with us.”

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalm 80; Isaiah 7: 10-15; Matthew 1: 18-23.

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

22 December: O Rex Gentium

O Rex Gentium ... Christ in Majesty depicted in John Piper’s window in the Chapel of Saint John’s Hospital, Lichfield

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

22 December, O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations):

O Rex Gentium, et desideratus earum,
lapisque angularis, qui facis utraque unum:
veni, et salva hominem,
quem de limo formasti.

O King of the nations, and their desire,
the cornerstone making both one:
Come and save us, whom you formed from the dust.

c.f. Genesis 2: 7; Isaiah 28: 16; Romans 15: 12; Ephesians 2: 14.

Isaiah prophesied:

For a child has been born for us, a son given us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9: 6).

He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore (Isaiah 2: 4).

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalm 118; Jeremiah 30: 7-11a; Acts 4: 1-12.

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

21 December: O Oriens

Morning blue skies and blue waters in Donabate ... O Dayspring, splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness: Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2010)

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

21 December, O Oriens (O Dayspring):

O Oriens, splendor lucis aeternae,
et sol justitiae:
veni, et illumina sedentes in tenebris
et umbra mortis.

O Dayspring, splendour of light eternal
and sun of righteousness:
Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness
and the shadow of death.

c.f. Malachi 4: 2; Luke 1: 79; John 8: 12; Hebrews 1: 3.

“O Dayspring” or “O Rising Sun” are better translations of the original Latin, but the poetic “O Morning Star” is preferred in many other versions.

Isaiah prophesied:

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined (Isaiah 9: 2).

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalm 27; Numbers 24: 15b-19; Revelation 22: 10-21.

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

20 December: O Clavis David

20 December: O Clavis David ... the North Cross at Castledermot depicts King David with his harp (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2009)

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

20 December, O Clavis David (O Key of David):

O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israel;
qui aperis, et nemo claudit;
claudis, et nemo aperit:
veni, et educ vinctum de domo carceris,
sedentem in tenebris, et umbra mortis.

O Key of David, and sceptre of the house of Israel,
who opens and no one can shut,
who shuts and no one can open:
Come and bring the prisoners from the prison house,
those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

c.f. Isaiah 22: 22; 42: 7; Jeremiah 51: 19; Revelation 3: 7.

Isaiah prophesied:

I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and no one shall shut; he shall shut, and no one shall open (Isaiah 22: 22).

His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onwards and for evermore (Isaiah 9: 7).

[...] To open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house (Isaiah 42: 7).

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalm 89: 1-34; Isaiah 22: 21-23; Revelation 3: 7-13.

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

Where the snow-covered Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

The snow-covered Mountains of Mourne, seen from Red Island, Skerries, this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2010)

Patrick Comerford

It’s four weeks since I was in Skerries and since I last had a walk on the beach.

In the intervening weeks, the demands of full working weekends, a joint performance of excepts from Handel’s Messiah by the choirs of Christ Church Cathedral and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, and some heavy snow falls have stopped me from getting out onto the shorelines of Fingal.

I was in Portrane and Donabate last weekend for the baptism of my cousin’s baby son – in the same church my grandparents were married in over a century ago. But a working weekend left no time for a walk on the beaches in either place.

Today is the Fourth Sunday of Advent, and Canon Aisling Shine was the preacher at the Choral Eucharist in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, this morning. The setting was Sir Lennox Berkeley’s Missa Brevis, first performed in Westminster Cathedral over 50 years ago in 1960. Berkeley (1903-1989) studied with Stravinsky and Ravel, and his students included John Tavener. The anthem was ‘A spotless rose’ by Herbert Howells (1892-1983), best known to many for his large output of Anglican church music.

There had been a thin fall of snow throughout most of Dublin last night. After the Sung Eucharist two of us, undeterred, headed out to Skerries for lunch and a walk on the beach.

I was last in Skerries on 21 November. Since then, the 70 or 80 trees lining Strand Street and Church Street have been decorated with Christmas lights, the monument has been turned into a beacon of Christmas lighting, and the shops are abuzz with Christmas excitement.

There was a little breeze of snow as we made our way into to the Olive Café on South Strand Street, which was full to the door with customers. Their mixed baskets make ideal Christmas presents, and here they make the best double espresso in Fingal.

Then it was out onto to the South Beach for a brisk walk. The snow was gone again, the tide was out, and there was a beautiful shimmer on the water. Overhead, an air-sea rescue helicopter was practising its manoeuvres.

As we walked up the steps and up around Red Island, the Mountains of Mourne came into view – sweeping down to the sea, they were covered in snow. The harbour was quiet, almost lonely. As we headed back onto the South Beach, a moon that was almost full had risen high, and it seemed the evening light was lingering a little longer than you might expect in the deep mid-winter.

Winter creates a quiet afternoon at Skerries Harbour (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2010)

In Gerry’s, I picked up the Sunday newspapers and the latest edition of the Skerries News, which gives proper praise to the Skerries Chamber of Commerce for raising the money to light up the town this Christmas.

As we were leaving, snow was falling on Skerries once again. Within hours the town was covered in a blanket of snow, snow on snow, in the bleak mid-winter.

This has been a good and deeply spiritual and meaningful Advent. I’m looking forward to tomorrow evening’s Service of Nine Lessons and Carols in the cathedral; I’m looking forward to the Midnight Eucharist in the cathedral on Christmas Eve; I’m looking forward to celebrating Christmas. But this country is in the grip of an Arctic freeze and after a few weeks of cold and snow, I’m not looking forward to a white Christmas.

19 December: O Radix Jesse

19 December: O Radix Jesse ... “standing as a sign among the people”

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

19 December, O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse):

O Radix Jesse, qui stas in signum populorum,
super quem continebunt reges os suum,
quem Gentes deprecabuntur:
veni ad liberandum nos, jam noli tardare.

O Root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the people,
before you kings will shut their mouths
and the nations shall seek:
Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.

c.f. Isaiah 11: 10; 45: 14; 52: 15; Romans 15: 11-12.

Isaiah prophesied:

A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots (Isaiah 11: 1).

On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious (Isaiah 11: 10).

Jesse was the father of King David, and Micah prophesied that the Messiah would be of the house and lineage of David and be born in David’s city, Bethlehem (Micah 5: 1).

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalm 50; Isaiah 11: 1-9; Romans 15: 7-13.

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

18 December: O Adonai

18 December: O Adonai ... “who appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush”

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

18 December, O Adonai (O Lord):

O Adonai, et Dux domus Israel,
qui Moysi in igne flammae rubi apparuisti,
et ei in Sina legem dedisti:
veni ad redimendum nos in brachio extento.

O Adonai, and leader of the house of Israel,
who appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush
and gave him the law on Sinai:
Come and redeem us with an outstretched arm.

c.f. Exodus 3: 2-6; 6: 6, 19 ff; 24: 12.

Isaiah prophesied:

[...] but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins (Isaiah 11: 4-5).

For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our ruler, the Lord is our king; he will save us (Isaiah 33: 22).

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalm 106; Exodus 3: 1-6; Acts 7: 20-36.

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

17 December: O Sapientia

17 December: O Sapientia ... an image from Cochem Castle, Germany

Patrick Comerford

The “O Antiphons” are Magnificat antiphons traditionally sung at Evensong or Vespers during the seven days of Advent preceding Christmas Eve, from 17 to 23 December.

Advent is primarily a season of preparation, not of penitence, it is a time of reflection and hope, anticipation and joyful expectation. The canticle Gloria in Excelsis is not said or sung at the Sunday Eucharist in Advent, not because of any penitential expectations for this season but, because it echoes the message of the angels to the shepherds it is held back until Christmas.

Each of the Great “O Antiphons”, beginning with a long, drawn-out “O,” refers to Christ by one of his attributes found in Scripture, calls on him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a rich tapestry of scriptural titles and images that describe his saving work, and ends with a short prayer based on the salutation of the day.

They are:

17 December: O Sapientia (O Wisdom);
18 December: O Adonai (O Lord);
19 December: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse);
20 December: O Clavis David (O Key of David);
21 December: O Oriens (O Dayspring);
22 December: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations);
23 December: O Emmanuel (O God is with us)

In the Church of England, these “O Antiphons” have traditionally been used as antiphons before and after the canticle Magnificat at Evensong during this period.

Although they are not printed in the Book of Common Prayer, they have long been part of secondary Anglican sources, including hymns. They have a place in contemporary liturgical documents throughout the Anglican Communion, including Common Worship (the Church of England).

The popular Advent hymn, O Come, O Come Emmanuel (Veni Emmanuel, see Irish Church Hymnal, No 135) is a lyrical paraphrase of these antiphons.

The first letters of the titles taken in reverse order form a Latin acrostic, “Ero Cras,” which translates as “Tomorrow, I will come,” reflecting the theme of the antiphons.

The origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known, they have been part of Western liturgical tradition since the very early Church. They have been known in an early form since the sixth century, by the eighth century they were in use in liturgical celebrations in Rome, and were found in many breviaries between the eighth and 16th centuries.

The memory of the ‘O Antiphons’ was retained after the Reformation in the Calendar of the Book of Common Prayer, which listed O Sapientia on 16 December as a black letter holy day from 1604.

The “O Antiphons” were first translated from Latin into English by John Henry Newman.

In medieval Benedictine monasteries, the monks arranged the “O Antiphons” with a definite purpose. If we start with the last title and takes the initial letter of each – Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – they form the Latin words ero cras, meaning: “Tomorrow, I will come.”

As only one “O Antiphon” was sung each day, the full text of the acrostic was not revealed until the last day (23 December), when it would be interpreted as Christ’s answer to the prayer at the end of each antiphon.

Although the antiphons and their respective dates shown are recognised throughout most of Western Christianity, an alternative medieval practice arose in England, in the Sarum rite of Salisbury Cathedral, moving all of the antiphons forward by one day, so that they began on 16 December. An additional eighth antiphon, O Virgo virginum (O Virgin of Virgins), was then added on 23 December, so that the acrostic became Vero cras, “truly, tomorrow”:

O Virgo virginum, quomodo fiet istud?
Quia nec primam similem visa es nec habere sequentem.
Filiae Jerusalem, quid me admiramini?
Divinum est mysterium hoc quod cernitis.

O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be?
For neither before thee was any like thee, nor shall there be after.
Daughters of Jerusalem, why marvel ye at me?
The thing which ye behold is a divine mystery.

This version of the “O Antiphons” was used in the Church of England until modern times, and is the version found in traditional Church of England liturgical sources, including the English Hymnal and the New English Hymnal.

More recently, however, the Church of England has stepped back from this medieval practice and returned to the more universal norm. The calendar in Common Worship now provides for the seven-fold version of the “O Antiphons,” and not the eight-fold version.

An updated, inclusive-language version of Newman’s translation of the “O Antiphons” is published in the Franciscan Office Book, Celebrating Common Prayer (p. 347).

Advent prepares us for the coming of Christ, and the “O Antiphons” bring intensity to our Advent preparation, and bring it to a joyful conclusion.

The “O Antiphons” come at the end of Advent to tie together the prophetic hopes of a people who have waited not for just three or four weeks for the coming of the Lord, but for whole centuries.

The “O Antiphons” tell us to be patient just a little while longer, and they describe the wonders in store with the coming of Christ.

Each of the “O Antiphons” has a two-fold purpose. First, each one is a title for the coming messiah. Secondly, each one refers to a prophecy of Isaiah about the coming Messiah.

17 December, O Sapientia (O Wisdom):

O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti,
attingens a fine usque ad finem,
fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia:
veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.

O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,
and reaching mightily from one end to the other,
ordering all things well:
Come and teach us the way of prudence.

c.f. Ecclesiasticus 24: 3; Wisdom 8: 1.

Isaiah prophesied:

The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord (Isaiah 11: 2-3).

[...] he is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in wisdom (Isaiah 28: 29).

Times and Seasons suggests the following readings may be used at Evening Prayer on this evening: Psalms 90, 11; Ecclesiasticus 24: 1-9; I Corinthians 2: 1-13.

Percy Dearmer deprecated the tendency to turn Advent into another Lent, rather than marking it as a season of preparation, and so wrote: “The O Sapientia in our Kalendar and the use of the sequences in the old English books may remind us of the spirit of joyful expectation which is the liturgical characteristic of Advent.”

Additional reading and resources:

Gordon Giles, O Come, Emmanuel: reflections on music and readings for Advent and Christmas (Oxford: Bible Reading Fellowship, 2005).

Benjamin Gordon-Taylor and Simon Jones, Celebrating Christ’s Appearing: Advent to Candlemas (London: SPCK, 2008, Alcuin Liturgy Guides # 5).

William Marshall, O Come Emmanuel: a devotional study of the Advent Antiphons (Dublin: Columba Press/APCK, 1993).

Times and Seasons (London: Church House Publishing, 2006).

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute

Joseph, a dreamer of dreams and a doer of deeds

The Dream of Joseph, Georges de la Tour (1593-1652)
Patrick Comerford

Matthew 1: 18-25

18 Τοῦ δὲ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ἡ γένεσις οὕτως ἦν. μνηστευθείσης τῆς μητρὸς αὐτοῦ Μαρίας τῷ Ἰωσήφ, πρὶν ἢ συνελθεῖν αὐτοὺς εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου. 19 Ἰωσὴφ δὲ ὁ ἀνὴρ αὐτῆς, δίκαιος ὢν καὶ μὴ θέλων αὐτὴν δειγματίσαι, ἐβουλήθη λάθρᾳ ἀπολῦσαι αὐτήν. 20 ταῦτα δὲ αὐτοῦ ἐνθυμηθέντος ἰδοὺ ἄγγελος κυρίου κατ' ὄναρ ἐφάνη αὐτῷ λέγων, Ἰωσὴφ υἱὸς Δαυίδ, μὴ φοβηθῇς παραλαβεῖν Μαρίαν τὴν γυναῖκά σου, τὸ γὰρ ἐν αὐτῇ γεννηθὲν ἐκ πνεύματός ἐστιν ἁγίου: 21 τέξεται δὲ υἱὸν καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν, αὐτὸς γὰρ σώσει τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τῶν ἁμαρτιῶν αὐτῶν. 22 Τοῦτο δὲ ὅλον γέγονεν ἵνα πληρωθῇ τὸ ῥηθὲν ὑπὸ κυρίου διὰ τοῦ προφήτου λέγοντος,

23 Ἰδοὺ ἡ παρθένος ἐν γαστρὶ ἕξει καὶ τέξεται υἱόν,
καὶ καλέσουσιν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἐμμανουήλ,

ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον Μεθ' ἡμῶν ὁ θεός. 24 ἐγερθεὶς δὲ ὁ Ἰωσὴφ ἀπὸ τοῦ ὕπνου ἐποίησεν ὡς προσέταξεν αὐτῷ ὁ ἄγγελος κυρίου καὶ παρέλαβεν τὴν γυναῖκα αὐτοῦ: 25 καὶ οὐκ ἐγίνωσκεν αὐτὴν ἕως οὗ ἔτεκεν υἱόν: καὶ ἐκάλεσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν.

18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. 19 Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. 20 But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’ 22 All this took place to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

23 ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel’,

which means, ‘God is with us.’ 24 When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, 25 but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

Collect

God our redeemer,
who prepared the blessed Virgin Mary
to be the mother of your Son:
Grant that, as she looked for his coming as our saviour,
so we may be ready to greet him
when he comes again as our judge;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Introduction: the Fourth Sunday of Advent

The Gospel reading for our Bible study this morning (Matthew 1: 18-25) is the Gospel reading for Sunday week [19 December 2010], the Fourth Sunday of Advent. The full set of readings in the Revised Common Lectionary (Year A) is: Isaiah 7: 10-16; Psalm 80: 1-7, 17-19; Romans 1: 1-7; Matthew 1: 18-25.

Those readings are about choices, about obedience to God’s plans, and about the fulfilment of God’s plans for all nations.

These readings bring us into the last week of Advent. Christmas is upon us, the last of the purple candles on the Advent Wreath, the one representing the Virgin Mary, is lit in this week. And Mary is likely to be the heroic figure in most of the sermons focusing on the Gospel Reading.

Joseph’s ‘Yes’

Those sermons are likely to talk about Mary and her obedience, Mary’s “Yes.” And Joseph is likely to be pushed to the side of the stage. He says “Yes” too, but he says it silently; he has no scripted lines; he has no dramatic part or role; he is mute; but he is obedient. And, like Joseph, his namesake in the Old Testament who is named in the Psalm (Psalm 80: 1-7, 17-19), he too is dreamer of dreams and a doer of deeds.

Saint Matthew’s nativity story lacks the romantic imagery of Saint Luke’s account, whose heady mixture of heavenly angels with earthy shepherds is missing here. Instead, the hope of all the earth takes shape under the sign of arrangements being made for a betrothal that is apparently violated. The gifts of God’s grace and the promise of Go’s reign are hidden, are to be searched for and to be found in the midst of what appears be a very tawdry story.

I imagine Mary may have been a mere teenager at the time, just 14 or 15. And, like so many other teenage brides, she turns up for her wedding – pregnant! Joseph knows he could not possibly be the father. He decides to do the right thing and take and quietly drop out of the arrangement.

If Joseph goes ahead, then this child is going to be known in his family, among his neighbours, perhaps by everyone who needs to know, as illegitimate for the rest of his life. His critics indelicately remind him of this in Saint John’s Gospel: ‘You are indeed doing what your father does.’ They said to him, ‘We are not illegitimate children; we have one father, God himself’ (John 8: 41). The original Greek (πορνείας οὐ γεγεννήμεθα) is more direct, crude and blunt: they taunt him that they were not conceived through illicit intercourse.

These fears and sneers, those social judgments and wagging fingers, must have been running rapidly through Joseph like a nightmare. Yet the angel of Joseph’s dream makes a startling suggestion. He tells him to marry Mary, and then he is to name the child. To take on naming the child means becoming his father. And this suggested not as a nice thing to do, a courteous thing to do, a gallant or gentlemanly sort of thing to do. Joseph is told why: “You are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (verse 21).

It is not a promise of immediate reward. Joseph is not offered the promise that if he behaves like this he is going to earn some Brownie points towards the forgiveness of his own sins; that God will see him as a nice guy; or even that if he lives long enough, this child may grow up, be apprenticed to him, take over the family business, and act as a future pension plan.

Whose People?
Instead, the promised pay-off is for others as yet unknown. “He will save his people from their sins.” There is a book by Kerstin Mierke and Bridgette Rowland on Irish wedding traditions that takes its title from the shy Irish farmer’s way of proposing: Would you like to be buried with my people? (2007). But if Joseph is not the father of the Child Jesus, he must have wondered what the angel meant by “his people” and “their sins.”

But the forgiveness spoken of here is spoken of apocalyptic terms. It is more than the self-acceptance offered in psychotherapy. Instead, it is the declaration of a new future. To be forgiven is to receive a future. Forgiveness breaks the simple link between cause and effect, action and reaction, failure and disaster, rebellion and recrimination.

On the strength of the angel’s claim, the church asserts one of its own: from the beginning, it was always God’s intention that it should happen this way. It is the fulfilment of the ancient prophecy, Matthew declares (verse 22): the hope of all the ages, the beginning of the end of all the old tyrannies, the restoration of everything that is and will be, was always meant to take place in a virgin’s womb, in the manger, on the cross.

That is Advent. It is a time of expectation, repentance and forgiveness. It is a time of preparation, anticipation and hope. It is a time for dreaming dreams, and putting behind us all our nightmares.

The dream in our Gospel reading is the dream of Joseph, not Mary’s dream. The Angel Gabriel appears to the Virgin Mary only in Saint Luke’s Gospel. Mark and John, for their part, give us no account of the birth of Christ, they have no Christmas narrative. In Saint Matthew’s Gospel, the angel appears not to Mary, but to Joseph.

In Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 1), as he contemplates suicide, Hamlet begins that most famous of Shakespearian soliloquies, that opening word: “To be or not to be …” And he muses and thinks out loud:

“… To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil …”

Why do we need sleep? Perhaps, as the Very Revd Samuel G. Candler, Dean of Saint Philip’s Episcopal Cathedral in Atlanta, Georgia, suggests in a sermon on this Sunday three years ago: “We need sleep because we need to dream.”

Joseph dreamed something wonderful. God would enter the world; God would be born to his new, young wife, Mary. But to believe this, Joseph had to trust not only his dream, but to trust Mary, to trust the future child, to trust God.

Do you love the people you trust and trust the people you love?

To trust Mary, Joseph must have truly loved Mary. But trust in this predicament must have gone beyond trust. Joseph must have truly glimpsed what it is to trust God, to have hope in God, to love God, to have faith in God.

Joseph dreams a dream not of his own salvation, but of the salvation of the world.

Sometimes, like Joseph, we are supposed to trust God and then get out of the way. Do you trust that God is working through the people you love? Do you trust that God is working through people you find it difficult not to love but merely to like … working through God’s people for their salvation?

Too often we forget about poor Joseph. Every year, we tend to focus on the story of Mary. But this year, Year A, the Lectionary asks us to focus on Joseph. The annunciation occurs not just to Mary, but to Joseph too. And they both say “Yes.”

Joseph has a second dream and faithfully responds to God’s call a second time
And Joseph says a second Yes too. Later in this Gospel, in the Lectionary reading for the following Sunday, the First Sunday of Christmas, we read:

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt I have called my son’ (Matthew 2: 13-15).

Joseph listens, God sends a messenger again, Joseph dreams again, and he remains true to God, he answers God’s call.

Joseph has no speaking part; he just has a walk-on part in this drama. But his actions, his obedience to God’s call, speak louder than words.

Yes, God appears over and over again, to men, women, to “all sorts and conditions of people.”

But do we trust them?

Can you have faith in someone else?

Can you believe their dreams?

Can you believe the dreams of those you love?

And dream their dreams too?

The French renaissance writer and humanist, François Rabelais (1494-1553), once quoted a monk who told Gargantua: “I never sleep really comfortably, except when I am at a sermon, or at my prayers.” But if people sleep during your sermon on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, I hope they too dream of God’s promise of salvation to all his people. For God is among us.

Come, O Come Emmanuel.

As Dean Candler urges in that sermon: “Believe in the dreams of the person you love. Believe in dreams this Christmas, and Jesus will be born again. Believe in dreams this Christmas, and God will appear. Amen.”

Post Communion Prayer

Heavenly Father,
you have given us a pledge of eternal redemption.
Grant that we may always eagerly celebrate
the saving mystery of the incarnation of your Son.
We ask this through him whose coming is certain,
whose day draws near,
your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This essay is based on notes prepared for a Bible study in a tutorial group with Year I and Year II MTh students on Wednesday 8 December 2010.

Asking the real Advent questions

Saint John the Baptist in Prison (1565-70), Juan Fernandez de Navarrette, Oil on canvas, The Hermitage, Saint Petersburg

Patrick Comerford

Matthew 11: 2-11

2 Ὁ δὲἸωάννης ἀκούσας ἐν τῷ δεσμωτηρίῳ τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ πέμψας διὰ τῶνμαθητῶν αὐτοῦ 3 εἶπεν αὐτῷ, Σὺ εἶ ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἢ ἕτερον προσδοκῶμεν; 4 καὶἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Πορευθέντες ἀπαγγείλατε Ἰωάννῃ ἃ ἀκούετεκαὶ βλέπετε: 5 τυφλοὶ ἀναβλέπουσιν καὶ χωλοὶ περιπατοῦσιν, λεπροὶκαθαρίζονται καὶ κωφοὶ ἀκούουσιν, καὶ νεκροὶ ἐγείρονται καὶ πτωχοὶεὐαγγελίζονται: 6 καὶ μακάριός ἐστιν ὃς ἐὰν μὴ σκανδαλισθῇ ἐν ἐμοί.

7 Τούτων δὲπορευομένων ἤρξατο ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγειν τοῖς ὄχλοις περὶ Ἰωάννου, Τί ἐξήλθατε εἰςτὴν ἔρημον θεάσασθαι; κάλαμον ὑπὸ ἀνέμου σαλευόμενον; 8 ἀλλὰ τί ἐξήλθατεἰδεῖν; ἄνθρωπον ἐν μαλακοῖς ἠμφιεσμένον; ἰδοὺ οἱ τὰ μαλακὰ φοροῦντες ἐν τοῖςοἴκοις τῶν βασιλέων εἰσίν. 9 ἀλλὰ τί ἐξήλθατε ἰδεῖν; προφήτην; ναί, λέγω ὑμῖν, καὶ περισσότερονπροφήτου. 10 οὗτός ἐστιν περὶ οὗ γέγραπται,

Ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ ἀποστέλλω τὸν ἄγγελόν μου πρὸ προσώπου σου,
ὃςκατασκευάσει τὴν ὁδόν σου ἔμπροσθέν σου.

11 ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν, οὐκ ἐγήγερται ἐν γεννητοῖς γυναικῶνμείζων Ἰωάννου τοῦ βαπτιστοῦ: ὁ δὲ μικρότερος ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τῶν οὐρανῶν μείζων αὐτοῦ ἐστιν.

2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3 and said to him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’4 Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.’

7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: ‘What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written,

“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way before you.”

11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

Introduction

The passage for our Bible study this morning is the Gospel reading in the Revised Common Lectionary for the Sunday after next [12 December 2010], the Third Sunday of Advent (The parallel text for this reading is Luke 7: 18-28; see also Luke 16: 16). The full set of lectionary readings for the Third Sunday of Advent are: Isaiah 35: 1-10; Psalm 146: 4-10 or the Canticle Magnificat; James 5: 7-10; Matthew 11: 2-11.

On the Third Sunday of Advent, the pink candle is lit on the Advent Wreath, recalling John the Baptist. The first two, purple candles, recall the Patriarch and the Prophets. Now John is seen as the final link in this long chain. The dreams of the Patriarchs and the hopes of the Prophets are about to be fulfilled. And in a note of joyous anticipation, the liturgical colours may even be changed from purple to pink.

The Advent Wreath and our lectionary readings help us to think of the four weeks of Advent as a season of anticipation and waiting.

But what if we were waiting and what we were left waiting for never came? If we were left waiting, forever lonely and empty, sitting by the side of the road like Vladimir and Estragon in Waiting for Godot? Or like Eleanor Rigby waiting lonely by the window? Or like John the Baptist, waiting in prison.

John asks questions

Last week, we were looking at the Gospel reading for the Sunday of Lent (Matthew 3: 1-12), we were at the point where John the Baptist is baptising in the River Jordan, and Christ is about to arrive and to be baptised.

Last week, when John the Baptist burst on the scene, he was all fire and vengeance, full of confidence and certainty, announcing the coming of Christ with hope and expectation in abundance.

In that reading, he gave us a fairly accurate model for Advent, full of energy, like children decorating the Christmas tree and full of expectant excitement, waiting for Santa Claus.

But today we have moved forward. Now John is tired, discouraged, questioning. That early flush of hope, marked by powerful enthusiasm, almost aggressiveness, has given way to questions and doubts.

At an early stage in his public ministry, John knew who Jesus is. After all, he baptised him in the River Jordan. He was all-eager, all-energetic. Now we come across him once again, cast down, cast into prison by Herod the Great. He has started to express his doubts. Is Jesus really the one he was looking for?

What happened to those wild dreams John had last week?

What happened to the dreams John had of the coming Christ would chop down fruitless trees and throw chaff into the fire?

Consider this: is this how Christ has behaved in the intervening weeks?

Has Christ spent his ministry throwing chaff into the fire?

I imagine it seemed not so to John as he watched the pattern of Christ’s ministry unfold.

Instead, look at what Christ says he has been doing in his Messianic ministry and mission.

John has spent his entire ministry, risking his own life, preparing the way for Christ. But now he has his questions. And so John sends several of his own disciples, to ask those cutting, searching questions in this reading: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

Listening to those questions, we might ask whether John really recognised Christ when he came to the Jordan that day and was baptised, whether he had been anticipating ehat the messiah would be truly like.

In the passage we are looking at this morning, John the Baptist has now been arrested and is in prison at Machaerus, a fortress about 8 km east of the Dead Sea. I imagine that in his prison cell, John was discouraged and in doubt. How he manages to I don’t know, but he sends his messengers to ask Jesus: “Are you the one ...?” (verse 3).

You can imagine a crowd gathering and eagerly awaiting Christ’s answer. It is surprising, then, that Christ does not give a simply answer, “Yes.”

Instead, Christ invites John to answer his own question: does Jesus fulfil Isaiah’s prophecies? (verses 4 to 5). Instead, Christ points John, his disciples and his messengers and those who are listening, to the signs of the Kingdom (verse 5). Echoing the words of the Prophet Isaiah, he points out that the blind, the deaf, the lame and the lepers are being healed and that good news is proclaimed to the poor.

These notions of rescue are also found in Isaiah 29: 18-19; 35: 5-6 (part of the Old Testament reading for this day); and 61: 1. Remember how Jesus reads Isaiah 61: 1 in the synagogue at Nazareth and interprets it as being fulfilled in him (see Luke 4: 18-21)?

Anyone can claim to be a herald of the coming kingdom, but only in the presence of the Messiah are the true signs of that Kingdom going to be evident.

Christ is not making idle claims; he is pointing to incontrovertible evidence. Yet there are some who take offence at him (verse 6). The Greek word here means not merely taking offence, but being scandalised. Perhaps, in the loneliness of his prison cell, even John the Baptist is disappointed, scandalised, feeling betrayed, because his expectations of the Messiah do not seem to be fulfilled.

Could John be that fickle, could he be “a reed shaken by the wind?” (verse 7).

Christ did not come to those people who had the details of his arrival all worked out. He comes to the blind, the lame, those with leprosy, the deaf, the poor, the dead.

He comes to the down-trodden.

He comes in humility for the humble.

He comes for those who did not have it all worked out for themselves.

He comes for those who know they need him.

John’s disciples have already repented and turned around once. Now they are going to have to repent and turn around again.

Christ comes to reverse things. What was dead is now raised. What was blind now sees. What was lame now walks. With the coming of Christ, our lives are changed. We know that Christ has come when people are changed.

The crowds knew that John was a sturdy, fearless man, who sacrificed personal comfort to be loyal to God and to speak the prophetic word people needed. On the other hand, in the Servant Song (Isaiah 42: 1-4), we hear:

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.”

Whatever expectations others may have wanted to project onto him, Christ is neither a warrior nor a king, he is not majestic, he does not “wear soft robes” (verse 8).

As a rebuttal to those who have their doubts, Christ refers to the signs of the Kingdom to be found in the words of Isaiah.

John is “more than a prophet” (verse 9), for he heralds the dawn of the final era of history and announces the coming of the Kingdom.

Now Christ validates John’s ministry as that of a true prophet. Christ’s sending is the commissioning of the ministry of an apostle; the messenger is one who brings good news, the Gospel. In addition, by quoting (verse 10) a prophecy from Malachi, who says: “See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me ...” (Malachi 3: 1). However, Christ’s quotation agrees precisely with neither the Hebrew text nor the Septuagint translation. II Kings 2: 11 tells us that “Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven.” Malachi 4: 5 foretells his return: “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.”

Christ even identifies John as Elijah returned (verse 14). At the time, pious and religious Jews understood the time of the prophets had come to an end. But they took Malachi’s words to mean that Elijah would come again.

Elijah comes again, in a poetic way, at the Last Supper, when Christ blesses the Cup of Redemption, the Cup of Elijah (Kos shel Eliyahu ha-Navi), which is associated with the coming of Elijah and the Messianic age.

Christ criticises those people who went out to see John the Baptist in the wilderness with a variety of incorrect expectations. What they actually saw was greater than they could have imagined. Yet even John, great as he is, only points the way to an even greater reality (verse 11), for Christ, unlike John, is in the Kingdom. John announces the imminence of the Kingdom, but he himself still stands within the old order.

Verse 12 verse is difficult. The final struggle has begun. God’s power is at work through Christ to establish his reign. But his Kingdom is suffering violence; violent people are trying to seize or snatch away this blessing and keep people from accepting God’s rule.

The time up to and including John the Baptist was the time of prophetic promise. Now this promise is starting to be fulfilled (verse 13).

When we are disappointed, or our expectations of God’s Kingdom are dashed, perhaps it is because we are not looking for the signs of the Kingdom that are all around us. In this time of crisis, full of opportunity but full of danger for those not alert enough to respond at once, Christ says with stern emphasis: “Let anyone with ears listen!” (verse 15).

Christ came to John the Baptist, but he came in a way that John did not expect. At least John had enough sense to ask the right questions: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” For these are the Advent questions.

John the Baptist baptises Christ in the River Jordan ... a detail from a window in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2010)

Some questions:

Why did John the Baptist not become a follower of Jesus?

As he was his cousin, as he had foretold his coming, as had seen and heard all the signs at Christ’s Baptism, why did John have questions about the person and ministry of Christ?

John the Baptist asks the right questions, Advent questions: “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?”

These are the Advent questions.

Is Christ the one we’ve been waiting for?

Or should we wait for another?

Is this the present I’ve been waiting for?

Is this the ministry I have been called to?

Am I in the right place at the right time?

Do we really want the gift of Christ this Christmas?

Canon Patrick Comerford is Director of Spiritual Formation, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This essay is based on notes prepared for a Bible study in a tutorial with Year I and Year II MTh students on 1 December 2010.