Tuesday, December 18, 2012
O Adonai
O sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave im the holy law on Sianai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.
Monday, December 17, 2012
O Antiphons

The “Seven Marian Antiphons” are
a setting of the “O Antiphons” of the Roman Catholic liturgy which are short
verses sung before the Magnificat for Evening Prayer of the seven days
preceding the vigil of Christmas. Called
the “O Antiphons” because each begins with the interjection “O”, their opening
words are: O Sapientia, O Adonai, O Radix
Jesse, O Clavis David, O Oriens, O Rex Gentium, O Emmanuel. Each is addressed to Christ under one of his
Scriptural titles and each concludes with a petition to the coming Lord. An interesting acrostic occurs when the first
letter of each invocation is taken in reverse order: ERO CRAS. The phrase spells out the response of Christ
to the heartfelt prayer of his people:
“Tomorrow I will be there.” In
the ninth century, the antiphons were reworked into the familiar hymn: Veni,
Veni, Emmanuel (O Come, O Come Emmanuel)
The Divine Office (Liturgy of
the Hours) is a collection of prayer services which take place at various times
throughout the day. The idea is the
sanctification of all time. Clerics in
the Catholic Church make a promise to pray the hours at the time of their
ordination.
Prior to the reforms of the
Second Vatican Council the Divine Office had a primarily monastic form. The various hours of the day (e.g., Lauds, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, etc.)
were solemnized by the chanting of psalms, the proclamation of Scripture, and
the chanting of various Scriptural canticles.
Prayers for the needs of the Church and the world are included in some
of the Hours.
In the Vatican II reforms, the
Office was simplified for use by the diocesan clergy. However, the structure was maintained:
Invitatory, Hymn, Psalmody, Scripture, Responsory, Magnificat with its
antiphon, Intercessions, The Lord’s Prayer and Concluding Prayer and
Blessing. Night Prayer also includes a
concluding Marian Hymn (e.g., Salve Regina, Regina Coeli, Ave Maria).
The last several years have seen
an increase in communal celebrations of the Liturgy of the Hours, especially
Morning and Evening Prayer. Many
parishes offer Vespers to celebrate special occasions. (In Winona, we celebrate Morning Prayer on
the three days of the Paschal Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy
Saturday) on which Masses other than those prescribed for the Triduum are
forbidden). Parish vespers often follow
a more ceremonial form of the Office which is rooted in the Cathedral Vespers
of ancient times. This often includes an
opening light ceremony (Lucenarium) and thanksgiving for the light and the use
of incense and more formal vestments.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
May they rest in peace
For those killed at Newtown, Connecticut. The beautiful Lux aeterna by Nadia Boulanger.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh6oPghFnt0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh6oPghFnt0
Gaudete Sunday
Gaudete in a time of sadness. My homily for the Third Sunday of Advent.
On Friday, as I
made my way to St. Cloud to take my mother Christmas shopping (don’t all you
mothers wish you had a son like me?) I began to hear the reports of the tragic
school shooting in Newtown, Connecticut.
I realized rather quickly that my original homily, focused as it was on
the call to rejoice would not be quite right in the aftermath of such violence
and loss of innocent life.
And yet we have these beautiful
readings which call us to rejoice – even when we may not feel like
rejoicing. Even when our feelings may be
more in line with a short Latin poem that a friend of mine composed: Nocte fletuum angelis./Mundi
frangitur./Vocis voces in caelis/Clamant malum lucem extinguitur. Translated into English it means: Night of weeping angels./The world is shattered./Resounding
voices in heaven/Cry out: Evil has extinguished the light. It easy, in the face of such horror to feel
that evil is triumphant and that the light has been extinguished. So what can we say? How should we respond? And what is God saying
to us today through our Scriptures?
St. Paul
wrote his letter to the Philippians, the source of today’s second reading from
prison. One would not think this would
be an occasion for rejoicing. And yet,
not only does Paul encourage us to rejoice, he wants us to rejoice in the Lord
always, and then he says, “again I say, rejoice.” Where did Paul, in the midst of his suffering
and trial, get the urge to rejoice? It
comes in the next sentence: The Lord is
near. For Paul, who was expecting the Lord’s
return in short order, the fact that the Lord was near overcame the sufferings
of the present and infused his heart with joy.
What
about the prophesy of Zephaniah that contains our first reading – that
exhilarating call to rejoicing that seems so full of hope and excitement and
which is set so stunningly by Handel in
his “Messiah?” Zephaniah’s times were
not easy. The kingdom to which his
prophesy is addressed had fallen into complete moral and spiritual decay. The king had entered into an alliance with
the Assyrians which included acceptance of their gods. So Zephaniah is faced with rulers who act
like foreigners. He could see the fraud,
violence and complacency that accompanied the disintegration of the political
leadership. Added to the political
turmoil was an increasing belief among the people that God was powerless to
act. That their situation in life had
become permanent.
When we
read the entirety of Zephaniah’s prophesy we encounter his catalogue of
accusations against the rulers of his day.
And then he ends his prophesy with the bold call to rejoice and shout
for joy. Why? Because the Lord is in their midst and he
comes to bring them forgiveness and comfort.
In other words, the dire situation in which they live is not the end of
the story – that God can and will act on behalf of the people.
That is
the message for us on this Gaudete Sunday (the Sunday of rejoicing) as we face
yet another senseless act of violence.
That we are not alone, that the light is not extinguished, that our God
is with us. That is the constant theme
of this Advent and Christmas season – that our God has come to us with
salvation, forgiveness and strength.
That is the message of the Advent wreath whose candles we light one by
one. That is the message of the
Scripture and song that we share during these weeks when not only do the nights
seem long and cold but tragedy, once again, visits our land.
In the
aftermath of the shootings at Columbine, Archbishop Charles Chaput, who was
then the Archbishop of Denver wrote to his people of his feelings and
experience in the wake of that tragedy.
He writes: “The impact of
what happened this past week in Littleton, however, didn't fully strike home in
my heart until the morning after the murders, when I visited a large prayer
gathering of students from Columbine High School, and spent time with the
families of two of the students who died. They taught me something. The students who gathered to pray and comfort
each other showed me again the importance of sharing not just our sorrow, but
our hope. God created us to witness His love to each other, and we draw our
life from the friendship, the mercy and the kindness we offer to others in
pain. The young Columbine students I listened to, spoke individually -- one by one
-- of the need to be strong, to keep alive hope in the future, and to turn away
from violence. Despite all their confusion and all their hurt, they would not
despair. I think I understand why. We're creatures of life. This is the way God
made us: to assert life in the face of death.”
In our Gospel, John the Baptist
responds to the questions of those who came to him about how they should order
their lives. He gives each group some
rather practical advice. Archbishop
Chaput did the same: “We need to change.
But societies only change when families change, and families only change when
individuals change. Without a conversion to humility, non-violence and
selflessness in our own hearts, all our talk about "ending the
violence" may end as pious generalities. It is not enough to speak about
reforming our society and community. We need to reform ourselves.”
And so, what I learned from the
Scriptures is that rejoicing is necessary to hope. That in the darkness and the violence we need
not a giddy, superficial joy but a deep down recognition that God has not
abandoned us, that God, in fact, grieves with us – he too, lost a Son in an act
of violence and hatred. I learned that
in the midst of darkness there is light – the light of the resilience of the
human spirit, but even more the light of Christ whose presence among us we are
preparing to celebrate. I learned that
when the evil seems to have extinguished the light that I need to rejoice even
more.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Santa Lucia
From Thomas Merton:
Lucy, whose day is on our darkest season,
(Althought your name is full of light,)
We walkers in the murk and rain of flesh and sense,
Lost in the midnight of our dead world's winter solstice
Look for the fogs to open on your friendly star.
We have long since cut down the summer of history;
Our cheerful towns have all gone out
like fireflies in October.
The fields are flooded and the vine is bare:
How have our long days dwindled,
now the world is frozen!
Locked in the cold jails of our stubborn will,
Oh hear the shovels growling in the gravel.
This is the way they'll make our beds for ever,
Ours, whose Decembers have put out the sun:
Doors of whose souls are shut against the summertime!
Martyr, whose short day sees our winter and our Calvary,
Show us some light, who seem forsaken by the sky:
We have so dwelt in darkness that our eyes are screened
and dim,
And all but blinded by the weakest ray.
Hallow the vespers and December of our life,
O martyred Lucy:
Console our solstice with your friendly day.
Lucy, whose day is on our darkest season,
(Althought your name is full of light,)
We walkers in the murk and rain of flesh and sense,
Lost in the midnight of our dead world's winter solstice
Look for the fogs to open on your friendly star.
We have long since cut down the summer of history;
Our cheerful towns have all gone out
like fireflies in October.
The fields are flooded and the vine is bare:
How have our long days dwindled,
now the world is frozen!
Locked in the cold jails of our stubborn will,
Oh hear the shovels growling in the gravel.
This is the way they'll make our beds for ever,
Ours, whose Decembers have put out the sun:
Doors of whose souls are shut against the summertime!
Martyr, whose short day sees our winter and our Calvary,
Show us some light, who seem forsaken by the sky:
We have so dwelt in darkness that our eyes are screened
and dim,
And all but blinded by the weakest ray.
Hallow the vespers and December of our life,
O martyred Lucy:
Console our solstice with your friendly day.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Our Lady of Guadalupe
From the blog of Bishop Flores of Brownsville, Texas:
These
are intense days of devotion and prayer in the United States, and certainly here
in the Rio Grande Valley. On December the 8, we celebrated the Immaculate
Conception, Patronal Feast of our Cathedral here in the Diocese of Brownsville,
and since 1847, patroness of the United States. And yet four days later, on
December 12 we celebrate the great feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patroness of
the Americas. The two feasts are deeply connected in the mystery of faith. On
December the 8 we recall the truth that God chooses to give the full gift of
grace on his own initiative, to prepare Mary from the first moment of her
conception for her mission. On December 12, we are given a vivid reminder of
what that mission entails. The Virgin's presence announces that the Lord is
coming to be with his people, to free us from death, darkness and sin.
Our Lady Conceived without sin, pray for us that no sin impede our reception of your Son into our lives!

On December 12, I wish I could be everywhere at
once in the Rio Grande Valley; the processions, the Masses in all the parishes,
in small mission chapels, and at the Basilica; las MaƱanitas, the menudo and
hojarascas-- it's everwhere. And it is for everyone: families, the elderly,
small children in costumes; laughing, singing, high school students playing in
mariachi bands, fireworks. It is joyous, reverent and a full display of the
mystery of faith alive in our land. This feast is a singular grace for our
diocese and our nation, worthy of a special place in the hearts of all Catholics
in the United States.
There
are so many reasons for this exuberance. And yet in the end they are all one
simple reason keenly felt by all of us who celebrate her day. The Virgin, in her
very person, -- because her person bears the Son of God-- appears in 1531 as the
gentle voice announcing to a good but labored soul that heaven is kind and very
close, and that the darkness will not have its way forever. There was much blood
spilled in the Americas both prior to the arrival of the Spanish Empire, and
after. Human sacrifice gave way to a conquest that was in many ways brutal. It
was hard in those days to believe in the triumph of light over darkness, mercy
over vengeance, reconciliation over recrimination. But somehow, in the Virgin's
appearing, in the image of the innocent one already bearing the Son of God in
her womb, the announcement of mercy went forth and was joyfully received.
This
is the cause of our joy: God has appeared in our land; he has taken flesh from
the Virgin; and we need not fear that the darkness will in the end prevail. She
comes as the breeze that announces that the springtime of the human race is
possible by the grace of God's favor. The Gospel brings this springtime, and for
us in the Americas, Our Lady left us the Gospel written as an image on Juan
Diego's tilma. The Gospel was the hope of the peoples of the Americas when the
Virgin appeared, and it is the hope of our future as a people. There is urgent
need for this hope. We in the Valley know too well that much blood is spilled
senselessly for power, greed, vengeance, and drugs. A new sort of cult of death
menaces our children. Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the Christ she bears forth to
our world show us the way out of this encroaching despair.
Perhaps
it is time to designate Our Lady of Guadalupe as Co-patroness of the United
States. Most recently I read a post by Cardinal Mahony encouraging this
prospect:
http://cardinalrogermahonyblogsla.blogspot.com/2012/12/our-lady-of-guadalupe-patroness-of-usa.html.
Together with the Immaculate Conception on December 8, and Our Lady of Guadalupe
on December 12, we could as Catholics in the United States renew our
appreciation for the way grace works in us by contemplating the Mother of God
under these two magnificent invocations. For us also, grace is given by God's
wise design to both make us holy, and to send us forth to announce that the long
reign of sin is ending. The one follows upon the other. There is no
evangelization without holiness; and grace is given so as to be shared with a
world that dwells in darkness and under the shadow of death.
Our Lady Conceived without sin, pray for us that no sin impede our reception of your Son into our lives!
Our
Lady of Guadalupe, pray that having received him, we be worthy bearers of your
Son to others!
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