Jer 33;14-16
Ps 25
1 Thes 3:12-4-2
Lk 21:25-28, 34-36
"Veni, veni, Emmanuel
captivum solve Israel."
O come, o come Emmanuel
and ransom captive Israel.
The ancient advent hymn has been recorded, rerecorded, arranged, and bowdlerized many times. I put "O Come Emmanuel" into Google and got an impressive 70 million hits. Adding the word 'lyrics' resulted in a more reasonable 13 million hits. Upon adding 'Latin' the result was a manageable 1.2 million hits, a mere afternoon of research.
"Veni, veni, Emmanuel
captivum solve Israel."
Benedict XVI explains the meaning of Advent succinctly in his short book of meditations titled, Benedictuswhere he wrote that Advent derives from the Latin roots 'ad' and 'venire', meaning 'to come to' or 'to come toward.' He explained that advent is the translation of the Greek word parousia which means 'presence,' but even more specifically means 'arrival.' Thus Advent is a time of anticipation and preparation for the arrival of the Savior of the World, the King of the Universe, Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary.
When we are expecting another to come to us, his presence influences our actions well before he arrives. Consider our recent Thanksgiving celebrations. Menus were chosen with the hope that the guests would like the food. The table was prepared with care. The special fluted dish for the cranberry sauce was washed and dried by hand. Even mundane tasks were completed under an advent influence preparing for the those who were coming toward our table.
The readings, prayers, and liturgies of Advent prepare us to celebrate Jesus coming into the world. The advent wreathe is a visual reminder of the progress of Advent. The purple vestments and omission of the Gloria at Mass reminds us of the penitential nature of the season. The apocalyptic warnings in Luke's Gospel remind us that we, the earth, and the universe will all perish no matter how conscientiously we recycle or hold public demonstrations protesting whatever. All that lives must die. There is no way around that.
"Veni, veni, Emmanuel
captivum solve Israel."
A new Church year begins today. We all savor new beginnings because they give us second chances for a secular-type of redemption. Thus, New Year's resolutions, birthday wishes, the optimism that "I am going to get it right this year" that greeted Septembers when we were kids. All of us seem to need a starting line or starting date for attempts at change. Advent is one of those beginnings. It can be a time of renewed hope and optimism. Or it can be a desultory 'same old, same old.' The choice is ours.
The past months have been difficult. Things are not going to magically change with the new liturgical year that begins today or the new calendrical year that begins on January 1. The only change we can hope for is the change we initiate within our hearts. Perhaps the best we can do under current circumstances is make the changes in attitude and behavior that are necessary to endure ongoing quarantine, arbitrary freedom-limiting, sometimes contradictory edicts from on high, and a heightened sense of anxiety about illness.
"Veni, veni, Emmanuel
captivum solve Israel."
The gospel is neither comforting nor comfortable. As has been true of the readings the past few days, we are advised to remain awake and alert because we do not know the time. Uncertainty is among the most uncomfortable of situations for humans beginning in infancy. The usual uncertainty of life is being exacerbated in this present reality of not knowing what is going on during this pandemic not knowing what is coming next or wondering exactly what we are fighting against. The questions can be formulated in many ways. It has never been otherwise in the history of the world.
Uncertainty drives anxiety. A patient fears the diagnosis while awaiting the biopsy. It seems counterintuitive but even a bad diagnosis may relieve a patient's anxiety, at least for a while, by giving a name to what had been an unknown. Upon having a name for it we can begin to formulate battle plans, develop coping mechanisms, or discern how to respond. One of the most difficult aspects of the months of covid has been the waffling of government and medical authorities, the insane flip-flopping: 'Yes this works.' 'No it doesn't work.' 'Well maybe it does.' 'Gee, no one seems to know.' The inconsistency with which the "rules" are obeyed by those who make them has not been comforting to anyone.
As advent progresses toward the Great Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord we will hear readings reminding us that which is to come.
On the second and third Sundays of Advent the Gospel will focus on John the Baptist, Jesus' herald, who though unworthy to untie His sandal, announced His coming. The Gospel will speak of the Annunciation to Mary on the fourth Sunday and we will hear again the words of her fiat, words that changed the history and nature of the universe once and forever.
Ecce ancilla Domini,
Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum,
Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord
May it be done unto me according to your word.
As we enter into Advent it is crucial to recall that, despite pressure from advertisers, social custom, and an increasingly religious-hostile
establishment, advent is not a time of preparation for a holiday that "is for children." We are preparing for a Holy Day, a holy day that is for all mankind from the youngest to the oldest, the healthy and the infirm, the child in the womb and the end-stage Alzheimer's patient in a wheelchair. And everyone in between
We are preparing to commemorate the birth of the Messiah, the Anointed One, Son of God, Son of David, Son of Man, who was born of a woman. We are preparing to recall the birth of one who was like us in all things but sin, who became man to ransom us from sin and save us from death.
This is the only reason that on this First Sunday of Advent we can sing.
Veni, Veni Emmanuel!
Captivum solve Israel!
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| Jesuit Chapel in St. Mary's Hall at Boston College |
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| Mother and Child |
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