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)

Christmas Eve

In theatre and cinema the 'fourth-wall' is an imaginary barrier between the audience and the world on stage or screen. When a character 'breaks the fourth wall' by either addressing or acknowledging the audience they cross an invisible screen and form a more intense connection with the viewers. One only has to think of the emotion stirred by Charlie Chaplin's address at the end of The Great Dictator, the chuckles raised by a Bugs Bunny aside to the camera, and the thrill and speculation caused by a momentary glance from Boba Fett in The Empire Strikes Back.

It is not a great surprise that the theory of this performance technique has been used to help understand the Birth of Jesus or 'God breaking the fourth wall' (as somebody on Radio 2 or 4 said at some point this year). To some extent this is understandable. The Almighty can seem distant or in a separate universe, just as characters in a film are. When the Word takes flesh, this is the ultimate crossing of a barrier, however it is still an insufficient analogy. In Christ's coming we do not just receive a nod or a word from God. We receive the Word, the Word breaks into this world like the morning sun and embraces all of humanity, giving true enlightenment and true life. 

However like in a movie we can miss this event if our hearts are not focused on our true goal that is found in the babe in Bethlehem. As we sit on the edge waiting to celebrate the birth of Our Lord, let us not be be merely spectators but true participants in the beginning of our salvation.

Preparing the Way: The Finding of Jesus in the Temple

This  week the Students of Blackfriars are preparing the way for Christmas with a series of reflections on the Rosary. They are taking place in the Priory Church at 12:30pm on Tuesday 21st, Wednesday 22nd and Thursday 23rd December. All are welcome!

The third reflection, on the Finding of Jesus in the Temple, the fifth of the Joyful Mysteries, was given by Br Nicholas Crowe OP and is now available in this pre-recorded video for readers who could not join us.

Also available as a Vodcast

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Preparing the Way: The Proclamation of the Kingdom

This  week the Students of Blackfriars are preparing the way for Christmas with a series of reflections on the Rosary. They are taking place in the Priory Church at 12:30pm on Tuesday 21st, Wednesday 22nd and Thursday 23rd December. All are welcome!

The second reflection, on the Proclamation of the Kingdom, the third of the Luminous Mysteries, was given by Br. Haavar Nilsen OP and is now available in this pre-recorded video for readers who could not join us.

Also available as a Vodcast

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Preparing the Way: The Annunciation

This week the Students of Blackfriars are preparing the way for Christmas with a series of reflections on the Rosary. They are taking place in the Priory Church at 12:30pm on Tuesday 21st, Wednesday 22nd and Thursday 23rd December. All are welcome!

The first reflection, on the Annunciation, the first of the Joyful Mysteries, was given by Br Andrew Brookes OP and is now available in this pre-recorded video for readers who could not join us.

Also available as a Vodcast

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Rosary Reflections in Christmas Week

Fourth Sunday of Advent - Set apart for the Gospel of God

Readings: Isaiah 7: 10-14; Psalm 24; Romans 1: 1-7; Matthew 1: 18-24

At the beginning of today’s Gospel, Joseph comes to what we might call the natural conclusion: Mary’s pregnant, he’s not the father … so a quiet divorce is the best solution. Now, as we hear in the first reading, the natural interpretation is not the only possibility: the Lord promised as a sign to King Ahaz that a virgin would conceive and bear a child (Is 7:14). Joseph probably knew this prophecy in the Book of Isaiah, but that doesn’t mean he immediately jumped to the conclusion that his fiancee was to give birth to the Messiah! Rather, it was only when the good news was announced to him by an angel – a messenger of God – that he was able to see things for what they really were. Having heard the angel’s good news, he is then able to act accordingly: he takes Mary as his wife, and calls the child Jesus, as he was told.

As we prepare to celebrate the birth of that child, then, what are we to learn from the example of Joseph? I think an important aspect to consider is the role of the angel in announcing the reality of the incarnation to him. Joseph had the Scriptures of the Old Testament, he knew the goodness of his fiancee, but nevertheless he needed to hear the news from a credible witness in order to appreciate the amazing, supernatural truth of the situation.

Now in the tradition received from the Fathers of the Church, we find extensive parallels drawn between the Church and the Blessed Virgin Mary. Both, in different ways, make the Word of God present in the reality of human lives – it is in the Church, as in the Blessed Virgin, that the Word is made flesh. Now, of course, in Mary the Word is made flesh by the great mystery of the Incarnation which we celebrate at Christmas; in the Church, this happens in the lives of Christians – of you and of me – those of us who, by the sacrament of Baptism, have been born of the Holy Spirit and who, especially by our participation in the sacrament of the Eucharist, live with the life of Christ himself. Filled with this divine life, we are to live in imitation of Christ and his teaching, and so make the Word of God a human reality in our own time.

Without a striving to live such a life, it doesn’t matter how well or how truthfully we proclaim the Word with our lips – we will not be taking part in its “incarnation”. However, today’s Gospel reminds us that preaching is still vitally necessary. Anyone can get hold of and read the Bible. Anyone can hear of and admire the goodness of a Maximilian Kolbe or a Mother Teresa, whose lives truly were conformed to Christ. But still there needs to be a further element: credible messengers who can show, as the angel did to Joseph, that these different aspects of the Church’s life do not depend on some merely natural explanation, but that ‘that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit’ (Matthew 1:20).

So often – and understandably – those outside the Church see her as a purely human institution, and seek human explanations for the way she lives and acts. In the course of our attempt to live the Christian life, then, we must always be prepared to give the real – supernatural – explanation for the way we live, relating everything, as St Paul does in today’s second reading (Romans 1:4), to the child whose name is called Jesus, for he has saved his people from their sins (Matthew 1: 21).

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Friday - Third Week of Advent

Gn 49:2, 8-10; Ps 72:1-2, 3-4ab, 7-8, 17; Mt 1:1-17

Over the last week, every Gospel reading in the lectionary has mentioned John the Baptist, and so it's really been driven home the importance of John in understanding Jesus' identity. As we approach the final week before Christmas, another essential factor concerning Jesus' identity is highlighted - the genealogy. The genealogy of Christ in Matthew's Gospel is much more than a list of names. Christ represents the culmination of salvation history.

Although Matthew neatly summarises Jesus' genealogy in terms of three sets of fourteen, on closer inspection this genealogy is anything but neat. There are several aspects which seem rather troubling. There is little correlation between Matthew's genealogy and Luke's. Matthew emphasizes Jesus' royal ancestry, but Luke only mentions King David. There are also noticeable discrepancies between Matthew's genealogy and the book of Chronicles. At least three kings are missing who are present in Chronicles, Asa is misidentified as the psalmist Asaph, and Amon is misidentified as the prophet Amos. Four women are mentioned who were of rather dubious moral character. Why does Matthew mention these rather than more respectable figures like Sarah, Rebekah, and Leah? Another puzzle is that Matthew only mentions thirteen generations from the period of exile to the Messiah, rather than fourteen. What is the significance of the missing generation? These questions have been much debated by theologians.

But perhaps this all seems rather academic when we come to the final twist in the genealogy – it seems that it is not actually a genealogy of Jesus at all, but only extends as far as Joseph who is not Jesus' true father. According to Palestinian law, the head of a family was no less a father of his adopted children than of those he had procreated, but does this fact really convince us of the relevance of Joseph's family tree? Perhaps there is an important theological point to be made here. In the bible, there are several examples of births which are in some way miraculous. In the story of Abraham and Sarah, or Zechariah and Elizabeth, we see the generosity of God in giving offspring to His chosen people. This generosity is seen on a whole new level when God even more miraculously gives the child Jesus to Joseph. Through the genealogy, we see that Jesus is a gift to all of Abraham's children. The fact that Joseph did not beget Jesus does not in any way lessen the deep bond between Joseph's family and Jesus. Because through adoption Jesus Christ became fully incorporated into the human family, it is also possible for us to believe that through adoption we can be truly incorporated into the family of God.

Well It is the Thought That Counts....

Coming up to another Christmas that seems to have begun on the high street straight after Halloween my mind has turned to one of the most diabolic excesses of the commercial "holiday season": the pop artist's Christmas album. It is depressing when great artists like Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix release appalling covers of Christmas carols. Not only are they distressing to listen to but they also reek of "selling out" and cashing in (but to be fair to Dylan he has donated all royalties to charity). Below is a selection of some contemporary musicians' take on some festive standards. The first two are pure stinkers (especially "Mr. Rebel Yell" Billy Idol) with only ironic value. Luckily the Thin White Duke is incapable of producing anything below par. However the selection below is not total box of purple Quality Street; and Scottish indy-folk lords Belle and Sebastian show how not to ruin a Christmas (or Advent) song. Of course, they recorded it for a charity album.

Wednesday - Third Week of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 45:6-8, 18, 21-26; Psalm 84; Luke 7:19-23

The public ministry of Jesus begins ‘from the baptism of John’ (Acts 1:22) whose appearance in the wilderness of Judea, preaching and baptising, marks the fulfilment of a number of biblical prophecies. John the Baptist is ‘a voice crying in the wilderness’. This was a phrase used in Isaiah 40 for the one who announces the return of the people from exile in Babylon. That return meant a fresh beginning, an end to the alienation between God and his people, and the establishment of a new covenant between them. The end of the exile, their redemption from Babylon, was of crucial importance for the people of Israel as it made concrete God’s continuing care of them.

The wilderness of Judea

For the prophets the forty years Israel spent wandering in the wilderness was the honeymoon of her relationship with God, an idyllic period of young love, innocent and loyal. So renewal and new beginnings in the relationship between God and his people are associated with the wilderness. The wilderness is the place to look for signs that new things might be about to happen. The first sign that the exile in Babylon was ending was Isaiah’s ‘voice crying in the wilderness’. The first sign that Jesus, the Messiah, was about to begin his mission was the voice of John crying in the wilderness and proclaiming ‘repent, for the kingdom of heaven is close at hand’.

A second strand of Old Testament expectation focused on the prophet Elijah and is also fulfilled in the person and mission of John the Baptist. The biblical tradition is that Elijah did not die but was swept up to heaven in a fiery chariot. In some Jewish circles there was a belief that before the final visitation of God, Elijah would return to warn the people that this ‘great and terrible day’ was about to dawn. This prophetic tradition gives voice to a passionate desire for justice, the hope that God will come as judge to set right all that has been distorted by injustice, cruelty, oppression and wickedness. Is there any redress for all the cruelty and violence that people suffer? To whom can the poor of the earth turn for help, truth, and justice if they cannot turn to God?

Jesus begins his preaching with the same message, ‘repent, for the kingdom of heaven is close at hand’. But, in the mouth of Jesus, these words have greater depth and power. John points to the one who is to come but Jesus is that one. John warns people of the imminence of the kingdom but Jesus is its presence. John baptises with water for repentance but Jesus baptises in the Holy Spirit and fire for new life, new creation. What is promised in the words of the Baptist is realised in the words, actions, teaching, passion, death and resurrection of Jesus.

Parched land around the Dead Sea

In Jesus the prophecies are fulfilled, as always, in unexpected ways. Who would have thought that God would engage with injustice, oppression and violence by allowing his Son to become the innocent victim of injustice, oppression and violence? Who would have thought that the blossoming of new life in the wilderness of human hearts would be more radical and more demanding than planting vegetation in a desert? Who would have thought that love could be more demanding than justice? Who would have thought that our judge would first be our saviour? Yet all this is true in the kingdom established by Jesus Christ.

John the Baptist prepares the way of the Lord. He is not only the greatest of the prophets but the greatest of human beings according to Jesus. He prepares the way, and points to Jesus, not just with his finger and with his voice, but in his preaching and his missionary work, in his suffering and in his death. In the career of John the Baptist we see already the pattern of Jesus's own life, mission, suffering and death. And yet the least of those who believe in Jesus have access to something greater, Jesus says. Our hold on it may be weak and often tested (as was the faith of the Baptist and the trust of Jesus) but even the tiniest flicker of faith gives us purchase on a wonderful reality: the presence of God among us in Jesus Christ, our saviour and our judge.

Saint Lucia

The feast of Saint Lucia is a popular event in the region that I come from, the Scandinavian countries. Dressed up in white with candles in their hands, children go in procession early in the morning this day singing the Lucia hymn and handing out Lucy-cakes.

The story says that Lucia was a virgin from Syracuse in Sicily, and that she devoted her life to the Lord when she was young. Her decision to live in celibacy made a certain magistrate Paschasius very upset, and he had her condemned to death. After several attempts at execution, she eventually fell by the sword, as nothing else seemed to harm her. She died in 304, in the middle of the great persecution under the Roman Emperor Diocletian.

Lucia is certainly a martyr who showed strong faith and fidelity towards the Lord, but it is probably less her life story than her name and date of death that have made her so important in the northern countries. According to the old calendar reckoning, the 13th of December was the longest night of the year. In the Nordic countries where the winter is long and dark, what could be more appropriate than to celebrate a Saint that represented the light? This day of the year was not only considered to be the longest night, but also the night when evil forces were particularly active, probably caused by a certain confusion between Lucia and Lucifer ... songs were sung about ‘the long Lucy Night’ encouraging all not to be afraid, because God protects those who seek him. We may see such understandings as superstition today, but if we think of it, we do still pray for protection and sing to praise our Lord. Therefore, in this period of Advent, we may join in this Lucy-choir, as we wait for the everlasting light to come to shine for all nations.

Third Sunday of Advent: The One Who Is To Come

The familiar figure of John the Baptist, embodying our Advent hope, greets us again in this Sunday’s gospel. However, we find a man whose circumstances are much changed. The figure of hope seems to have become rather a pathetic figure, the great preacher and prophet languishes alone in a prison cell, awaiting his fate. To compound this unfortunate state of affairs it seems that the Baptist has also come to question the deeds of the one they call the Christ – the Anointed One – the one he was sent to prepare the way for. Indeed, he has come to question whether Jesus is such a Messianic figure at all.

Today’s Gospel is then, a question of identity. For John, disconnected from the community he loved, alone in a world filled with uncertainty, the identity of the Anointed One is paramount, and so he sends his disciples to ask; “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” It may seem a rather odd question, after all, if he has heard of the deeds, why then ask the question? The answer to this would appear to be that the identity of ‘the One who is to come’ was very different from the One that the Baptist expected. Indeed, the figure of Jesus had fulfilled none of John’s eschatological promises. John had preached that; “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fan is in his hand. He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” In an age when such a Messiah was expected to overturn the social and political status quo, John’s question does seem more reasonable. Should we look for another, or perhaps read differently, should we be looking for another of a different kind? Read in this manner we can see that although John’s expectations of Jesus’ role as judge were correct, he was unaware of the mission Jesus first had to fulfill on earth.

John is for us, a very human figure, his certainties have turned to questions, and he seems to waver between a man of prophecy and a man uncertain of the future. But where is the hope? Well, difficulties and questions do not equal despair: where would we all be if such were the case? On the contrary John provides the opportunity for Jesus to make clear the situation concerning his identity. In replying to John’s question Jesus marries his deeds with a patchwork of prophetic promises in Isaiah (29:18-19, 35:5-6, 61:1); "the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offence at me.” Jesus makes clear the fruits of his ministry and lastly proclaims blessed those who do not see his actions, unexpected though they may be, as a stumbling block to faith.

Whilst the question of identity is not cleared up with a simple Yes or No the answer couldn’t be clearer, and the message we can take from this should be heartening as we journey onward through Advent. We may all have times when we question, when our expectations in faith are not fulfilled, but we must draw upon what we see and hear, upon word and deed. We are surrounded by numerous examples of Christ’s love for us and nourished by the words of scripture. Indeed, our principal source of comfort and solace, even when we feel we are languishing alone and afraid, is Christ himself, given to us in the Eucharist. His identity is certain, but are we this Advent, able to recognise Him? “Are you the One who is to come.”

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Friday - Second Week of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 48: 17-19 Psalm 1 Matthew 11: 11-16

One of the features of our post-enlightenment culture is a somewhat ambiguous attitude to authority. On the one hand our politically correct consciousness recoils at the slightest hint that we are imposing our values on others, and at the same time we aggressively reject any perceived infringements of our own autonomy. Simultaneously, however, the dizzying speed of technological development and a trend towards ever increasing specification has left us more and more dependent on 'experts', authorities in narrow subdivisions of human knowledge in fields such as medicine, economics, computing, and science, whose expertise seems to be beyond the criticism of common sense. If knowledge is power, then, we are in an age of mini-empires, with numerous sub-disciplines of thinkers and practitioners claiming an absolute authority over very specific areas of our lives.

It is very easy to think of the Church in these terms, as just another authority with expertise in that sphere of our life that we label 'religious' or 'spiritual'. Yet the Church is only handing on the revelation it received in Christ, the Word of God. This God, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, is omnipotent and omniscient, all powerful and all knowing. His authority then, and his teaching, are not meant for a part of our life but for all of it.

In today's Gospel, we hear Jesus parodying his contemporaries, for 'John came neither eating nor drinking and they say, "He has a demon"; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say: "Behold, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners"' Then, as now, God's prophet and his Son were rejected because they had broken out of the mental categories in which people had tried to imprison them. Jesus' contemporaries were prepared to offer obedience to God only in a qualified sense, perhaps because they misunderstood the nature of God's authority.

In the first reading Isaiah presents God not as an authoritarian despot but as a teacher whose instructions guide us to a peace that is 'like a river'. Similarly the psalmist proclaims blessings to those who 'delight in the law of the Lord'. This is the peace, the blessing, of being true to one's nature. Freedom is not found in resisting the authority of God. Freedom comes through obedience, through listening, to the one who made and sustains us. God is not the enemy of our freedom, in fact He creates our freedom; and as our maker and sustainer, the God who knows us better than we know ourselves, He guides and teaches us as to how best to use this great gift of being free. Advent, then, is an ideal time to resolve to deepen our attentiveness to the Word of God, in order that we may be led into a deeper embrace of the Incarnation.

The Immaculate Conception

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Monday - Second Week of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 35: 1-10; Psalm 85; Luke 5: 17-26

It is very easy in our busy lives to put religion on the “back burner” – we try to get to Mass every Sunday, we say a prayer every now and then (when we remember), but other than that, we can very easily let our faith slip our mind. We are so busy worrying about organising our lives and solving the various problems that arise that we forget that it is ultimately Jesus who is the organising principle of our life, and the solution to our problems.

Thus, in Advent, with its theme of vigilance, the Church puts before our minds the various images of the end times and of Christ’s second coming that we find in the Scriptures, the point to which all life is tending. In today’s first reading, we find a beautiful image of the results of our salvation, when all that hinders our joy will be taken away. It is an amazing thing to hope for. In the Gospel, however, we are reminded of the particularity of Christian hope: this salvation which Isaiah foresaw has already worked itself out in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the historical life of Jesus, in his many miracles and most of all in his Passion, our salvation has already been won, and through his Church, which makes that salvation present in the world of today, we come to share already now in God’s gift of eternal life: so our hope looks forward not to some future event, but to the full realisation of what has already been given to us ‘in sacramental guise’ (as St Thomas Aquinas says in his prayer before Holy Communion).

In this season of Advent, then, let us pray for an increase in the gift of hope, that we may come to a deeper awareness of the salvation given to us in Baptism, and so order our whole lives towards Christ, in whom is the consummation of all things.

Second Sunday of Advent:-Viva La Revolution

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-9, Matthew 3:1-12

If we are asked to imagine John the Baptist, I imagine that most of us paint a picture of a wild man: A dishevelled feral figure wearing camel hair, and eating locusts and wild honey barking at the respectable Sadducees and Pharisees calling them “a brood of vipers”. If John the Baptist appeared today on our streets we might feel uncomfortable; we might see him as a bit too much and a bit too extreme. He might offend our sensibilities but what we cannot deny is that he is certainly passionate. He is passionate about the love for God and passionate about his desire that others know God and the love He offers too. 

However this undiluted and honest love of God can and does make many people uncomfortable, because the love of God is so radical and so revolutionary. It cannot be put in a box or neatly arranged on a shelf. John is sickened by the Pharisees' and Sadducees' arrival. Not only because he disagrees with their views but because they have cheapened and watered down the powerful grace of God that has been entrusted to them. They have turned the teaching of the love of God into ho-hum mediocrity. Even with this in mind John does not dismiss the members of the Jewish elite but asks them to “bear the fruit that befits repentance”. He calls them out and asks them to prove that they mean to repent.

This challenge is also given to us now. Just as it was not enough to say “we have Abraham as our father", it is not enough to say now “well … I go to Church, I say my prayers, I’m a good person” and so on and on. We have to prove to the world that we believe, not only by repenting but also by believing in and living the gospel. We have to be passionate about the faith, and in doing so our faith not only changes our lives, but the world around us.

But we are not alone in this challenge. John promises that God will send his Holy Spirit and fire, a fire that will engulf us, giving us life and vitality. The fire that John foretells is not only a fire of judgement but a fire that gives power and energy, a fire that we are called to be part of.

The season of Advent allows us to renew and rekindle our commitment to God’s revolution of love, a revolution that begin when the Word takes flesh. This event makes wolves and lambs cohabiting and bears and cows having a common nursery seem positively pedestrian. Advent allows us to prepare for an event that is groundbreaking and radical, but if we lose perspective the Word taking flesh can become humdrum and sentimental in our minds. Advent allows us to take stock and realise the immensity of God’s love for us. It gives us an opportunity to see the coming of Jesus through fresh eyes. So much so that when we reach Christmas, we can proclaim with one passionate voice "Viva la Revolution!"

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Friday - First Week of Advent

In today’s Gospel reading, Matthew 9:27-31, two blind men come to Jesus and, in faith and desperation, cry aloud to Him; “Son of David, have pity on us!” Their use of this Messianic title is an indicator of the faith they have in Him, and as they throw themselves upon His mercy, all that He asks of them is that they believe. Thus it is faith that opens their eyes and it can open ours too. Blindness is, therefore, not simply a physical affliction, it can also be a spiritual one. Our faithlessness, such as we see Isaiah rebuke Israel for (29:17-24), can lead to a complete spiritual blindness and with it an inability to see our way and help others to do the same.

There are not many among us who could claim never to suffer from a certain sightlessness or a lack of vision for whatever reason. For instance, how often do we reproach ourselves for our inability to see someone with the eyes of charity? How often can our viewpoint or aims be deemed ‘short sighted’ or are we accused of being ‘blinded to reality’? Being blind to who people really are and the situations we find ourselves in is nothing new, but that should not prevent our striving to overcome such sightlessness. Indeed, we can, through God’s abundant grace, come to see with absolute clarity. We may, for example, begin in charity to see a person for who they really are, a son or daughter of Christ, and love them for this as God loves them: unconditionally. Such were the men in today’s Gospel; through faith their eyes were opened. These men came to love Christ because, even before they could see him physically, they were not blinded to the reality of his divine goodness.

Advent, as a time of preparation and penance, is about allowing our eyes to be opened. How can we prepare as we should for the coming of Our Saviour if we insist on stumbling by ourselves in the dark? If we are in such a position then let us have the courage to put out our hands to Christ and cry: “Son of David, have pity on us!” Let us walk in the light of faith this Advent, eyes wide open, and see Christ for who he truly is: Our Lord, Our Saviour, Our Hope and Our Redemption.

Thursday - First Week of Advent

Isaiah 26:1-6; Psalm 118; Matthew 7:21. 24-27

When adverse weather hits closer to home, such as flooding in Cornwall, or severe winter weather in Britain, we realize that we’re just as vulnerable and helpless as our fellow men and women in less developed countries. But at least many are able to stay snug in our centrally-heated homes, connected to the world via the internet, and with electric lights by which to read. All the comforts of technology and modern living tend to insulate us from the realities of life, until we receive a sharp awakening from the rain, floodwaters, and winds of life which blow and assail us.

For some, these may be natural calamities: about ten major typhoons a year strike the Philippines, so having one’s house collapse is a real possibility and a fact of life. But for others, it may be personal illness, accidents, or bereavement. For others still, it may be financial hardship, unemployment, or even loneliness. And sometimes, these afflictions are by no means mutually exclusive.

The crucial difference, in the face of these trials of life, is whether we remain standing, or collapse, and there is no doubt that those with faith, who have something to live for, carry on. It is a faith that I have seen most evidently in the poorest, and not just in the Third World, but also on the streets of Oxford. On the other hand, those who trusted in themselves, and in their wealth, security, and possessions, will often despair as these things are taken away or become meaningless and empty.

Advent challenges us to re-focus our vision, looking to Christ as the source of our hope, and to ensure that he is the foundation of our lives. And we do this not just with words, but with actions that make it a reality. Then, when the wind and ice hits, we will be prepared and not caught adrift in the snow.

November 30 - Feast of Saint Andrew

 Readings: Romans 10:9-18; Matthew 4:18-22

The first reading for the feast of St Andrew is a short but insightful outline of the role of preaching in God’s saving work. It states that faith comes from hearing but asks ‘how can they hear unless there is a preacher for them?' Though this text could in general terms by applied to all the apostles, and others besides, it is particularly appropriate for St Andrew based on what the New Testament records about him. He had no sooner come to faith in Christ than he proclaimed this to his brother, Peter - "we  have found the Christ” – and he took Simon to Jesus (John 1:40-41). Later he was involved in introducing the Greeks to Jesus, a very significant portent of the later spread of the Gospel beyond the confines of Palestinian Judaism and indeed of Judaism itself (John 12:20-22).

Andrew’s example highlights certain things at the heart of preaching. Being a preacher involves having a conviction of just how important faith in Jesus can be to others. It also means having the love, genuineness, and sensitivity necessary to share the Gospel appropriately with others. It means having the faith to point the other person to Jesus and even to usher them gently into the presence of the living Christ. It also involves realising that Jesus then has to make the crucial difference and leaving space for this direct encounter between others and Jesus.

In these ways St Andrew still serves as a model for all who would preach the Gospel, not least the Order of Preachers itself.

St Andrew, pray for Dominicans and for all preachers that we may have the zeal and love to speak appropriately of Jesus and the Gospel, as well as the expectant faith and prudent patience to trust Jesus to make himself real to people in God’s own timing and way, Amen.

First Sunday of Advent - Being Ready for the End

Readings: Is 2:1-5, Ps 121, Rm 13:11-14, Mt 24:37-44

Beginnings are an ideal time to think about ends. After all, if we are setting out on something new, we need to know where we are headed. Now the first Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of the new liturgical year and as we begin the new year, the Church invites us to think about the future. We look forward to a time when there will no longer be wars, a time of salvation, a time when the Son of Man will come.

The final coming of Christ is something that we can easily lose sight of. Some theologians believe that when Christ talked in apocalyptic terms, he was just using the language of a first century Jew. They argue that Jesus wasn't really talking about the end of the world, but rather he was just emphasising what the demands of Christian discipleship are. That is, we must constantly remain alert. In this realized eschatology, there is no need to focus on the end times, because the end has already happened. Christ has already come and he is with us now.

Of course Christ is truly with us and so we are living in the end times, but if we over-emphasise this realized eschatology, there is a real danger that we will go against what the Church has always taught. Every week in the Creed we proclaim 'He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead ... We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.' This will be a marvelous and miraculous event. It is not something we can deduce by studying the laws of physics. There is no way we can predict when it will happen or what it will be like, but our faith in Christ's resurrection demands that we believe in a general resurrection which will be a corporeal reality. This is something we have to be ready for. A human soul can only be perfected if it is united to a body, so we can't attain our final happiness as immaterial beings or as material beings which are subject to decay. Our faith in Christ means that we really can hope for a true and final happiness with God in which body and soul will be perfectly united.

So how should we be ready? Well, we need to come to terms with what we are. In today's reading, St Paul gives examples of certain types of behaviour which are unbecoming of human beings: reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy. It is not that the Christian life means we can't enjoy ourselves, but rather our true joy cannot consist in these sorts of behaviour. In each of the examples that St Paul gives, there is some kind of contradiction with our true human nature. Getting drunk is damaging to our health and our judgement. Being licentious means our actions are not ordered to their proper end. Quarreling and jealousy undermine the social structures by which we discover who we are.

The big struggle in life is accepting our human nature, living as God intended us to live. We live in a fallen world, a world in which the spiritual is at war with the material, a world in which our souls are out of step with our bodies. We may see our bodies as letting us down, as an obstacle to our perception of reality, as tempting us do things we would rather not do. Yet we may also find ourselves being attracted to this fallen world and giving in to the unreasonable demands we feel our bodies are making of us. St Augustine understood this attraction very well. In book 8 of the Confessions, he writes about the period shortly before his conversion:

The burden of the world weighed me down with a sweet drowsiness such as commonly occurs during sleep. The thoughts with which I meditated about you were like the efforts of those who would like to get up but are overcome by deep sleep and sink back again. No one wants to be asleep all the time, and the sane judgement of everyone judges it better to be awake. Yet often a man defers shaking off sleep when his limbs are heavy with slumber. Although displeased with himself he is glad to take a bit longer, even when the time to get up has arrived.

St Augustine goes on to describe the actual moment of his conversion, how he was in the depths of despair, weeping under a fig tree. At this point he heard the voice of a child from a nearby house repeating over and over again: 'Pick up and read, pick up and read.' He suddenly stopped crying, he hurried to pick up a bible, he opened it and read the first passage on which his eyes fell.

Not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

The passage he read was the passage from St Paul, the one we heard in today's reading. This was the moment of St Augustine's conversion. On reading these words, he describes how at once it was as if a light of relief from all anxiety had flooded into his heart. All the shadows of doubt were dispelled. The story of Augustine's conversion shows the dramatic power of the Word. Christ is with us now and he is our light. He heals our human nature and in him we will find our ultimate happiness.

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