Advent 2013: "O Emmanuel"

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 Expected of the Nations and their Saviour,

come to save us, O Lord our God.

Today at Vespers we will sing the last of the beautiful “O Antiphons” and the acrostic will be completed; for if we put together backwards the first letter of each of Antiphons - Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia – we can form the words “Ero Cras”, that is, “Tomorrow, I will come”. And tomorrow indeed, at Midnight Mass, we will celebrate that moment when God entered the world as an innocent child, one still night, in the little town of Bethlehem . . . and it changed everything. Nothing would ever be the same again.

This O Antiphon, like each of those that preceded it, both refers to a title of the Messiah and to a prophecy of Isaiah on the coming of the Messiah.

Emmanuel means “God is with us”, and with the birth of the Saviour, this beautiful idea becomes reality in a way beyond compare. Whilst it is true that God has always been with us, the Incarnation radically changed His manner of being “with us.” The most sacred item for the people of the Old Testament was the Ark of the Covenant, but from the moment of the Incarnation, when the Holy Spirit overshadowed the Blessed Virgin Mary (the Ark of the New Covenant) she held within her womb the Word of God in the flesh.

So as we near the end of Advent, the prophecy of Isaiah (7:14) nears its fulfilment:

The maiden is with child
and will soon give birth to a son
whom she will call Emmanuel,
a name which means “God-is-with-us”

What then is the appropriate response to this fact, the entry of God into human history? It should be rejoicing. Let us rejoice in one another, let us rejoice in the fact that each of us is willed and loved by God, and let us rejoice in the proof of this, the sending of His Son to save us. Thus as the preparation and joyful anticipation of Advent reaches its magnificent culmination, let us rejoice and sing with relish once more that great hymn in which all the themes of the O Antiphons are brought together:

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel
that mourns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.R: Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, Thou Wisdom, from on high,
and order all things far and nigh;
to us the path of knowledge show,
and teach us in her ways to go.

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,
who to Thy tribes on Sinai's height
in ancient times did give the law
in cloud and majesty and awe.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse's stem,
from ev'ry foe deliver them
that trust Thy mighty power to save,
and give them vict'ry o'er the grave.

O come, Thou Key of David, come
and open wide our heav'nly home;
make safe the way that leads on high
that we no more have cause to sigh.

O come, Thou Dayspring from on high,
and cheer us by thy drawing nigh;
disperse the gloomy clouds of night
and death's dark shadow put to flight.

O come, Desire of the nations, bind
in one the hearts of all mankind;
bid every strife and quarrel cease
and fill the world with heaven's peace.

Advent 2013: 'O Oriens'

Advent 2013: O Oriens

Today’s O antiphon, translates in english to: “O Morning Star, splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness: Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death”. Today is the shortest day in terms of daylight hours, and marks the peak of winter. And how good it must be, to sit beside a log burning fire and look outside at the falling snow, whilst enjoying whatever is on the television. Darkness, Death…Downton Abbey Christmas Special is on next!

The shadow of death and prevalence of disease would have been much worse in the past than what we might experience now. With no electricity, homes and churches would be lit only with candles, and would be colder in the winter without central heating. Without the medical advances that we have today, or a universal healthcare system, death and disease would have been a far more immediate concern. In Eamon Duffy’s book, Stripping of the Altars, he provides a historical background to religious practice and the life of the typical pious lay person in late medieval England. The liturgy for major feasts and solemnities were aligned with the seasons of agriculture, reflecting the fact that peasants worked solidly throughout the year. When human hands laboured so heavily just to produce enough to sustain a family, ‘darkness and the shadow of death’ probably had a more profound meaning in the daily lives of the lay person and the clergy than today. Just imagine the colder months of winter that meant the faithful would attend Churches with floors lined with straw to keep warm, whilst praying their devotions and attending the advent Mass. Indeed, charcoal burners used in medieval times for providing some indoor heating would have produced toxic carbon monoxide. The churches were probably of sufficient height, however, that it didn’t build up to a level that would cause asphyxiation of the congregation!

In our modern advanced economy, we are far more distant from working the land and the seasons of farming and harvest. Yet, despite our advancements, we live in the midst of a fragile system. Our ability to live on cheap energy reserves is fast decreasing, and we are often warned of the likelihood of increasing gas and electricity costs. Not to mention the possibility of power shortages. The world’s depleting oil resources may mean a future that is not such a comfortable or lengthy life such as we have known and expected for the last few generations. I hope and pray that we can continue with living standards comparable to now, but the reality may be somewhat different. 

So, what should the Catholic response be to this darkness on the horizon? The answer is resilience. In both this world and in preparation for the life to come. Resilience in our places of worship. What can we offer people in religion, when the machinery of consumerism and an electrified and brightly lit world starts to break down? Do we offer boring, banal liturgy and speeches on good citizenship? Or do we offer resilience in being determined with our faith, having meaningful and ornate liturgy to strengthen us when the real darkness and reality of death arrives. Resilience in the world, with the Church working alongside Governments to address energy and food security issues that are ahead of us, which could be devastating for the poor if left unmitigated. And of course, maintaining resilience in that foundation of society - the family - which gets us through the challenges life throws at us. 

The 'O' Antiphons, December 17-23

For the text and music of the O Antiphons, sung at Vespers from today until December 23rd, see the posts gathered here.

A cosmic 'O', the work of Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179)

O Emmanuel - 23 December

O Emmanuel, our King and lawgiver, for whom the nations wait, their Saviour: come to save us, Lord, our God.

O Rex Gentium - 22 December

O King of the Nations, whom they desire, and the cornerstone, who join two together into one: come and save mankind, whom you formed from the clay.

O Oriens - 21 December

O Rising Sun, splendour of eternal Light and sun of righteousness: come and shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.

O Clavis - 20 December

O Key of David, and sceptre of the house of Israel, who open and no one shuts, who shut and no one opens: come and bring out the captive from the prison-house, him who sits in darkness and in the shadow of death.

O Radix - 19 December

"O Root of Jesse, set up as a sign for the peoples, before whom kings will stop their mouths, to whom the nations will pray: come to set us free, delay no more."

O Adonai - 18 December

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

O Sapientia - 17 December

The text of today‘s antiphon is

O Wisdom, who came forth from the mouth of the Most High, reaching from one end to the other, powerfully and sweetly ordering all things: come to teach us the way of prudence.

Jesus, the Word or Wisdom of God, is like a bridge reaching from heaven to earth and from earth to heaven. We are invited to journey towards our Father by stepping on this bridge and following where it leads. Walking this 'way of prudence' helps to make the kingdom of God visible in our time. The one who utters the invitation is none less than the Messiah himself.

Scenes from the Provincial Assembly 2007

From 17 - 19 December, the brothers of the English Dominican province gathered for an assembly, several months ahead of the provincial chapter, to discuss various reports pertaining to the life and mission of the province. The meeting was characterised by good humour and fraternal charity coupled with a zeal for preaching the Gospel and for our religious life. As we came together to pray, listen, reflect and discuss aspects of our life and work today, one could appreciate anew the words of the psalm: 'Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity' (133:1).

Below are some photos from the assembly:









Two brothers were instituted as lectors, and another two brothers as acolytes in the Mass on 19 December celebrated by the Provincial. These are instituted ministries in service of the Word and the Altar, respectively.

Finally, below are sights and sounds from Vespers including a video of the O antiphon 'O Radix' sung at Vespers on 19 December together with the Magnificat in Latin.







'O Root of Jesse, set up as a sign for the peoples, before whom kings will stop their mouths, to whom the nations will pray: come to set us free, delay no more.'

The O Antiphons

Last year's recordings of the O antiphons, with music from the Dominican chant books are still online and may be viewed here.

O Emmanuel - God is with us

Readings: Malachi 3:1-4,23-24; Psalm 24; Luke 1:57-66


‘O Emmanuel, our king and our lawgiver, the hope of the nations and their Saviour: come and save us, Lord our God’. The prophet Isaiah wrote: ‘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 Emmanuel’ (7:14). Emmanuel means ‘God is with us’. In Matthew’s gospel (1:23) the Old Testament verse is obviously understood to be foretelling the birth of Christ. How might we understand the significance of this name of God’s anointed son?

The use of the name Emmanuel in this way by the gospel writer has the intention of guiding the hearer’s attention to the incarnation itself. How is God with us? God is with us in a human being who walked among us and underwent suffering similar to our own, unencumbered only by sin. God, in Christ, came to accompany us in our journey and struggles, not only in the spirit but in the reality of flesh and blood. Part of our struggle as human beings is the knowledge that we can only go so far in understanding and sharing the paths of our contemporaries: our love has its flaws and limitations. It is only God who can truly walk with all, for He came to share the space of each one of us for all time in Jesus, who blends human experience and divine perspective.



O Emmanuel, our King and lawgiver, for whom the nations wait, their Saviour: come to save us, Lord, our God.

O Rex gentium - Christ our cornerstone

Readings: 1 Samuel 1:24-28; Responsorial psalm: 1 Samuel 2:1,4-8; Luke 1:46-56

Any building whose foundation is unsound will fracture, become unstable and ultimately collapse, and buildings built on clay or marshy soil do not endure like those founded on solid rock. Hence, in 1 Peter 2:4-8, Christ is proclaimed as the cornerstone, echoing the prophet Isaiah who proclaimed that God was laying a “sure foundation” (Isaiah 28:16), and the permanence of this cornerstone is juxtaposed in today’s antiphon with the lowly clay from which we are fashioned. Because of Christ, we are no longer just transient clay bricks but “living stones” which are to be built into a “spiritual house” with Christ as the “head of the corner” (Psalm 118:2), thus giving the building permanence, strength and endurance.

A society which has rejected Christ – for example that of the proposed European Constitution – is one that cannot perdure and has no firm foundation, for “unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labour in vain” (Psalm 127:1). Built on the shifting soil of popular opinion rather than truth and permanent values, such a society cracks and crumbles. Today’s antiphon proclaims that Christ is the One whom all nations desire because he alone brings harmony and unity, just as the cornerstone unites two walls, making them stand as one.

As Christmas dawns and we recall again “the wonderful deeds of him who called [us] out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9), let us implore the Lord to craft us into his “living stones”, so that, built on the “precious cornerstone” of Christ and his Gospel truth, we may be united as “God’s own people”. Thus, may we, sharing in the “royal priesthood” of Christ our King and Redeemer, help reconcile and unite humanity, and endue society with the permanence and endurance of the Truth.

The photo above, taken by the author, is of the keystone in the lantern of Ely cathedral.




O King of the Nations, whom they desire, and the cornerstone, who join two together into one: come and save mankind, whom you formed from the clay.

O Oriens - a day of festival

Readings: Song of Songs 2:8-14 or Zephaniah 3:14-18; Psalm 32; Luke 1:39-45

Yahweh your God is there with you, the warrior saviour. He will rejoice over you with happy song, he will renew you by his love, he will dance with shouts of joy for you, as on a day of festival ( Zephaniah 3:17-18)

I find this prophesy by Zephaniah very interesting. It is true that the prophesy speaks about what will happen to us 'when that day comes'. However, at the same time, we get an insight into how God will respond on that day. This is what is interesting, we get to see how the almighty God will re-act on that day.


This information, though, causes us to reflect carefully on the manner in which we are going to do what we are going to do. Clearly, the festive season is not just about us, about us getting gifts and giving gifts. In all our rejoicing have we considered, when God sees all that we are doing, will he dance with shouts of joy over all that we are doing? The prophet, Zephaniah, is telling us, in a sense, that God too seeks to rejoice with us. He seeks to dance with us. He seeks to shout with us. He seeks to rejoice with us. In all our preparation thus far to celebrate the birthday of the Christ, have we considered these points?



O Rising Sun, splendour of eternal Light and sun of righteousness: come and shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.

O Radix - it is not too late

Readings: Judges 13:2-7, 24-25, Psalm 70:3-6, 16-17, Luke 1:5-25

Let’s try for a moment to imagine that all we know about Jesus is some vague notion that he has something to do with God, that he is someone who will change our lives and that we will find out how on Christmas day. Then when Christmas day comes we discover that Jesus is God incarnate, God come into the world as flesh and blood. Can we imagine how this incredible news might dramatically change our lives, not just on Christmas day, but forever? For most of us it is hard to imagine what this might feel like. We are all too familiar with the story, so we pass over it almost without a second thought. During these last days of Advent we must prepare for Christmas in such a way that when we hear the Christmas story, it comes to us afresh, as if for the first time.


In today’s Gospel, Zechariah seems to be world weary, set in his ways and caught up in the routine of daily life. So much so that he is not a man prepared to receive God’s message, a message which is God’s gift. This probably resonates with our own experience. But see how God brings Zechariah two gifts: the gift of a son, and the gift of silence. The silence gives him the time to be prepared, time for his idea of an inferior, predictable God to be swept away, preparing him to receive God’s love more fully. Regardless of how good or bad this Advent has been there is still time left for us to be silent, to allow God to shape us into people who will willingly accept his Son this Christmas. It is an opportunity not to be missed.



O Root of Jesse, set up as a sign for the peoples, before whom kings will stop their mouths, to whom the nations will pray: come to set us free, delay no more.

O Adonai - hope beyond adversity

Readings: Jeremiah 23:5-8; Psalm 71; Matthew 1:18-24

The prophet Jeremiah lived at a time when God’s chosen people faced the catastrophe of invasion and deportation to Babylon in the north. Jeremiah did not shrink from warning the people of the tragedy that was about to befall them. Yet at the same time he was able to hold out the hope that God would not neglect his people in their adversity. The Lord ‘will raise up a righteous shoot to David’ who will reign as a just and wise king so that the people may live securely in their land.

Later in the Book of Jeremiah the prophet will tell of God’s promise of a new covenant with his people, one that offers a deeper salvation than rescue from invading armies. For God will enter into a more intimate relationship with his people and will forgive their guilt and never more call to mind their sin (Jeremiah 31:34).

In the Gospel today we see these promises coming to fulfilment. A new king is to be born from the house of David who will save his people from their sins. Again this message of hope is made known in the midst of anxiety - this time Joseph's anxiety about Mary’s pregnancy. Today’s readings suggest that it is often easier to recognise God’s plan for our lives when things don’t appear to be going well. Certainly, it is in times of adversity that we most need to cry out in hope ‘O Adonai - O Mighty Lord… come to redeem us with outstretched arm’.

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

The Great Antiphons

Now there are only seven days left before Christmas. The coming of Jesus Christ is very near. The Liturgy shapes this week in a unique way in order to help Christians concentrate on the coming of the Messiah and prepare them for Christmas Eve. One of the most beautiful features of these seven 'Golden Nights' is the singing of the 'O' antiphons, sung at Vespers each evening between December 17 and December 23. These short songs of praise accompany the Magnificat, Mary's prayer recorded by Saint Luke at the moment of Mary's visit to her cousin Elizabeth (Luke 1:46-55).

The 'O' antiphons have a particular musical structure and a remarkable theological depth. Their history can be traced back to the first centuries of Christianity. Each antiphon, beginning with 'O', addresses Jesus with a unique title taken from the prophecies of Isaiah and praises him for being what each title indicates he is. Each ends with a petition for God's people and with the Advent cry: 'Come'. The well known hymn 'O come, o come Emmanuel' is actually a paraphrase of these antiphons.

The seven titles attributed to Jesus in the antiphons are:

1 Wisdom (Sapientia)
2 Ruler of the House of Israel (Adonai)
3 Root of Jesse (Radix Iesse)
4 Key of David (Clavis David)
5 Rising Dawn (Oriens)
6 King of the Nations (Rex gentium)
7 God With Us (Emmanuel)

Taking the first letter of each and reversing the order - Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia - gives the Latin words ero cras which means 'tomorrow I will come'. These great antiphons carry us from our Advent preparation to its joyful climax on Christmas Eve.

Godzdogz will present these antiphons each day, sung by the Dominican student brothers in Oxford, with the Latin text, chant and a translation. They are sung according to the Dominican antiphonal which varies slightly from the Roman chant books.

In his book Hallowing the Time, Geoffrey Preston OP writes as follows about these antiphons:

In the Great Antiphons of Advent, we turn to Christ with the longing expressed in the O itself. This longing is the groaning of the Holy Spirit in us when we do not know how to pray, when we have no other words than this primordial word so close to the roots of our western experience. For our O is strictly comparable to the Hindu OM, the mystic syllable in that other part of our Indo-European tradition, the OM beyond which there vibrates that absolutely primordial and eternal unheard sound which is itself the first Cause of the universe.

The Advent Os of the Christian West go back at least to the eighth century, to those ages that we somewhat inaccurately, yet appropriately in this context, call 'dark'. From the dark ages men have called out to the Messiah to come ... We too as we sing these antiphons stand in the dark ages, vergente mundi vespere as the Office Hymn puts it, as earth draws near its evening hour ... So we pray for him to come at either end of the Song of Mary, the Magnificat.

We put all we have into that praying. In the monastic tradition it is surrounded by all the wealth of ceremonial of which the brethren are capable ... In monasteries the abbot himself in full pontifical vestments comes and stands before the great pulpit in the midst of the choir and intones O Sapientia. Night after night the senior members of the community in full vestments come out to take up the cry to the Messiah. The bells of the monastery sound throughout the singing of the Magnificat, sung as it is to the most solemn chant in the book. All that the community has to show for itself, all by which it might cut something of a figure in the world, is wheeled on; and it sings 'O come!'