My eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people: a light to reveal you to the nations.
In the tradition of The Liturgy of the Hours the Canticle of Simeonis sung as part of Compline or Night Prayer. For the entire prayer, go to the Bible Gateway site linked in the citation above and explore the various interpretations of these verses. For the story of Simeon, read Luke 2:22-35.
God says: Simeon is a faithful servant who waited patiently for the fulfillment of my promise that he would see the messiah before death came to him. Just as Mary and Joseph were presenting the child, Jesus, in the Temple, this loyal servant saw in this family what I see, a trinity of hope, love and faith, promise, mercy and constancy. Simeon also saw that the lives of these three people would be full of deep sorrow and great joy. Simeon spoke words that I hear in waves from the faithful as they prepare to retire for the night. Join yourself with them as you prepare for bed. It is such a short prayer that it will not tax you. Turn away from the cares of the world for a brief time and pray these verses. You sleep ever so much better for having joined Simeon to visit with me.
Another faithful servant waited patiently for the appearance of God Among Us. Tomorrow, the story of Anna. . .
In the tradition of The Liturgy of the Hours this Canticle of Zechariahis sung as part of Lauds, or Morning Prayer or Prime, and although the verses are intoned by Zechariah on the birth of his son John the Baptist, they prophesy the coming of Jesus the Messiah, the Light of the World. Commentary tells us that their origin may have been an early Jewish Christian hymn that Luke adapted for his story. (Senior cf. 100) Today we examine these verses to see how we might bring full voice to our thanksgiving that God is not a remote and distant deity who merely observes the events that surround our lives, but a merciful and loving parent who chooses to live and move among us.
Zechariah begins by praising God for releasing us from all that binds and for delivering us from our enemies the prophets have promised. He reminds us of the covenant we have with God and all that it promises, and then he urges his child, John, to fulfill his role as herald of the Word. Describing the coming Messiah as the dawn from on high, Zechariah recalls for us the purpose of this light for the world: to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.
In our world of immediate satisfaction and quick fulfillment, it is difficult to find our place in God’s plan that unfolds through the millennia to unite billions of souls, and it is both fitting and helpful that we rise each morning to intone these words of Zechariah as part of our morning prayer. When we pray the Benedictuswe unite ourselves with all the faithful who greet each day with these same words of thanksgiving, remembrance and promise. So let us give thanks. Let us remember God’s promises. And let us walk with our God in the way of peace.
When we look at the entire first Chapter of Luke we discover how God prepares the faithful for the coming of Emmanuel, the incarnation of God’s Word Among Us, Jesus the Christ. We also understand more fully how carefully God’s heart and hand entwine with each precious life.
We have believed a promise pledged in total honesty. We have believed in the integrity and authenticity of a vow given freely and openly. We have relied on a belief to such an extent that we have become completely open ourselves, fearless and yet completely vulnerable.
And then . . . it was night.
We have acted in full confidence of words we took as truth. We have followed one who cured and healed and called us out of ourselves. We have stood up, we have owned problems, we have held off naysayers, we have remained faithful through narrow gates.
And then . . . it was night.
We have followed the one who spoke truth. We have forsworn easy living and have taken the road less travelled. We have emptied ourselves, built bridges, entered into the work of the kingdom; we have stood at the foot of the cross.
And then . . . it was night.
All that we once held closely and shared openly as eternal truth appears to have vanished so easily and so quickly. What did we miss? How did we arrive at this darkness?
The black emptiness that grips the heart feels everlasting and we are frozen in this spot and time, waiting for the night to lift, hoping that the promise has not faded. And yet each time we draw aside the curtain to catch a glimpse of the world as it is we see only the night.
Karl Heinrich Bloch: The Burial of Christ
Our bodies somehow function yet our thoughts freeze with incomprehension; we feel strangely locked in time as we follow the quiet, little procession to the waiting tomb where we will bury the last of our hopes. How can something we thought so immense become so small? Why can we so easily carry this body to its resting place? Where is the shoulder that bears the heavy yoke?
How is it that this night can be so dark?
It is night yet tucked inside us we feel the fluttering of something that will not give up; some small memory of a healing touch and word persists. The night feels heavy, intense and infinite and yet we know that there is the promise of the moon below the horizon. We light candles and hang lanterns in imitation of the stars we know spangle the night sky that is veiled from our view by low-slung clouds.
This night is so intense.
And yet as we scan the darkness again we feel the small fluttering of the promise take wing for a passing moment. Perhaps the intensity of our waiting has opened some small door to the light. Perhaps the words and touch given in pledge still hold their truth. Perhaps the light beyond the lowering clouds will at last break through. Perhaps . . . but for now we roll the stone across the entrance to the tomb and we wait in the darkness. Perhaps . . . but for now . . . it is the night.
Commentary informs us that although these few chapters may appear to be a tangential appendix to the prophecy of Isaiah, they in fact turn out to be “a crucial link for the survival of the Isaiah tradition and its extraordinary development”. This portion of Isaiah binds the prophecy to the original Deuteronomic Tradition – an interpretation developed in the north rather than in Jerusalem – and it focuses more on the Mosaic covenant than the Davidic dynasty and promise. We can see how this split in thinking might have accompanied the physical rift between the northern and southern tribes. Judahand Israelhad their differences; they focused on separate symbols, developed divergent theories, and went their separate ways. This small, apparently insignificant addition to Isaiah, which at first glance might be overlooked, does in fact give us a message we will want to hear: Salvation is universal, salvation pertains to the Gentile peoples as well as to the Jews, salvation is ours. (Senior RG 294)
We have centuries of theory, worship and belief to mine when we open scripture and today is no exception. In today’s Noontimewe are called to look at not just a crucial link in tradition but in ourselves as well. We are asked: What do we know? How do we know it? What do we believe? Why do we believe it? What do we do to enact our belief? How do we retain our own crucial link?
Once we begin to examine our traditions and the relationships we value, we will need to further examine what feeds and sustains us. How do we nourish our spiritual selves? Where do we look for sturdy places to attach our hearts to something safe and secure? Whom do we trust as we develop our value set?
Inevitably in each human life we come to a point of self-recognition. Some of us manage to stay away from the bright mirror of ourselves as we journey. Others of us seem to beat ourselves with every small flaw we glimpse in our reflection from the sharp glass of life. Inescapably – sooner or later – we are confronted with what we have forged. We see what we have done with the gifts we have been given. We understand that we are us and God is God . . . and that our link to God is crucial. Our attachment to God must be full and final. Our love of God must supersede all else . . . just as Christ’s love for usovercomes and overpowers all that would draw us into our narcissistic staring at our imagined self-image.
And so we make this our Christmas prayer today . . .
As New Testament people we believe that our salvation comes to us through Christ. Isaiah predicts this guarantee. Jesus fulfills this prediction.
As New Testament followers we understand that the darkness will always be pierced by the light. Isaiah foretells this. Christ fulfills this foretelling.
As New Testament disciples we know that the work of those who carry a belief in Jesus as savior will never be easy. Isaiah forewarns us of this. Jesus explains this to us.
As New Testament Children of God we cling to this crucial link who is Christ, God Among Us, Emmanuel, the Light in the Darkness, the Promise of all for all. Isaiah tells us of the immense love which forms this crucial link. Jesus comes to assure us of God’s love for each of his children. Jesus binds us to himself and to the Father forever . . . so let us take hold of this crucial bond and clasp it to our hearts forever. Amen.
Adapted from a reflection written on December 8, 2012.
Lamentations – Poignant Grief and Unquenchable Hope
Stomer: Adoration of the Shepherds
The seeming conflict between human weakness and divine power is one we humans constantly explore; we can never quite understand the inversion of logic that Jesus brings to the world much less put this inversion of thought into action ourselves. When we experience dreadful times we must turn to the truth that we are made whole in our emptiness, that sorrow always carries with it joy, and that God resides with those who are broken and forgotten. In our deepest grief transformation lies in the outrageous hope God offers us . . . in this hope beyond hope that the incredible promise of Christmas is indeed true. The Book of Lamentations may seem like as unusual point of reflection as we enter fully enter the Christmastide but we find something here today that speaks to our human circumstance. We discover that grief is always a subtle presence at any celebration . . . and that restoration accompanies all loss when we remain in the Spirit.
The five laments found in this book of the Bible “combine confession of sin, grief over the suffering and humiliation of Zion, submission to merited chastisement, and strong faith in the constancy of Yahweh’s love and power to restore. The union of poignant grief and unquenchable hope reflects the constant prophetic vision of the weakness of man and the strength of God’s love; it also shows how Israel’s faith in Yahweh could survive the shattering experience of national ruin”. (Senior 1017) The inversion the Christ Child brings to the world is the same conversion of the Old Testament Yahweh.
A few weeks ago we studied Psalm 90 and reflected on its truth. In this sacred poem we find our human limitations compared with God’s infinite goodness; we are told that God transforms even our most crushing suffering when we hand over our pain. It remains for us to act on this knowledge. It is for us to see the connection between the deep heartache of human distress and the nativity of inestimable hope in the person of Jesus. Why reflect on a centuries-old lament when we celebrate happiness? Because Christ represents the only true passage from the inconsolable grief we experience to the indescribable joy we say we seek.
And so we might spend a bit of time today reflecting.
Do we really want to be happy or do we sabotage our chance to know true delight? Each of us must make this journey to uncover our hidden plots against ourselves and others.
Do we honestly want to experience true gladness or do we dwell in the lamentation of our lives refusing to step into the joy fearing that the promise of Christ is yet another disappointment? Each of us must be willing to hand ourselves over to God and to give a full and candid accounting of our days.
Do we truly believe in the conversion of poignant grief through the transforming power of unquenchable hope? If so, and if we honestly wish to live in true Christmas joy promised by the Christ Child, we must plumb our own depths of lamentation and ask: What do we prefer, a life of frustration and illusion or a life filled with promise, trust, and joy?
It is for each of us to pause today. What is the true message of the Christ Child?
It is for each of us to decide today. Do we believe in the message of Jesus’ Nativity?
It is for each of us to act today. Are we prepared to carry God’s unquenchable Christmas hope into the world for the conversion of our most poignant grief?
Senior, Donald, ed. THE CATHOLIC STUDY BIBLE. New York, Oxford University Press, 1990.1017. Print.
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