Photo of Tarn Hows and surrounding hills by Gill Henwood
Today, December 14th, is a special day. It’s the day the Church keeps the feast of St. John of the Cross.
Some years ago, towards the end of a visit to Spain, we arrived at Ubeda. It was a wet Sunday afternoon and the town was all but deserted. The one eating and drinking place was the only crowded place. I had gone there, however to see something very important.
We had started the Spanish journey by travelling from Madrid to Avila. There, my companion and I visited the shrine of St. Teresa of Avila. She has been a favourite saint of mine for a long time and I have tried to dig deep into her spirituality. There is something profoundly mystical about her and yet, also, an accessible ordinariness. Teresa tells it as it is! She also tells God what’s on her mind!
Her legacy, for which she was honoured as a Doctor (Teacher) of the Faith, is her teaching on prayer. Yet her writing, done usually on the hoof, had to be encouraged. She was busy at the time reforming the Carmelite order and founding new convents of what became known as the discalced (barefoot) order of the contemplative Carmelites. (when she wasn’t actually shouting at popes, nobles and, at times God!)
In all this activity she had a series of mentors, confessors and encouragers. The chief amonst these, and her very special friend was St John of the Cross. His friendship did so much to help her in guiding others and in leaving us the great spiritual treasure we still have today.
St. John of the Cross was, himself, a man of deep spirituality. His writings and, especially his spiritual poems, established him as a mystic who walked close to God and for whom God’s love was deeply personal. The power of God’s love to touch ALL hearts is expressed by John in something he truly believed. He said, Where there is no love put love in and you will find love. In people and in situations where love is lacking, put the love of God in and you will draw love out. John of the Cross saw this as one of the most important witnesses we can make for God.
Often misunderstood and persecuted, even imprisoned, he found strength from his deep relationship with God. He also found a spiritual home in Teresa’s discalced Carmelites which he joined.
Amongst his writings is ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’, ‘The Ascent of Mount Carmel’ and ‘Spiritual Canticle’. A good introduction to his life and spirituality is by E Allison Peers, available still from good bookshops.
Like Teresa he was made a Doctor of the Church.
That rainy afternoon in Ubeda, our knocking on the door of the museum/monastery was rewarded at precisely 4pm! (When siesta was over). We were led by a quiet but welcoming monk to the shrine of St. John of the Cross. A wonderfully profound moment at the end of our joureying in Spain. In my heart was the link between the beginning of that journey and its end, not least because these two saints, in so many ways, had hearts for God that beat as one. Teresa said of John: “I cannot be in the presence of John without being lifted up into the presence of God.” In each other, they found God’s friendship and company.
But let Teresa have the last word about him on this, his feast day. She said of him, ‘Though he is small in stature, he is Big in God’s eyes.’ What better thing could be said of anyone!
December 13th is the feast day of St. Lucy. She was an early 4th century Christian who lived at Syracuse in Sicily at a time when the Roman Emperor wanted to restore the worship of pagan gods and, particularly, worship of himself as a god. Lucy was supposedly a wealthy woman who, in a true following of the Gospel, decided to give away all her possessions and provide for the poor. Engaged to be married at the time; her betrothed took exception to this – no doubt having planned to marry her for her money – and so, in a fit of pique, he denounced her to the authorities. They are said to have tortured her and finally put her to death. As she died she predicted that soon persecutions such as hers would cease. Within a few years, when Constantine became Emperor he established Christianity as the only religion of the Roman Empire thus fulfilling her prophecy.
Lucy belongs, then, to that period of Christianity when martyrdom – dying rather than denouncing Christ – was not only common but also inspirational. Christians under suffering drew strength from the martyrs witness. As with many early saints, her story became surrounded by legend as it was told throughout Christendom and her cult increased. Up until late medieval times her feast day was one that was well observed.
Whilst the martyrdom itself is the chief reason for remembering her there is another reason and it is contained in the meaning of her name – Lucy means ‘Pure Light’ – and in the position of her feast day in the Church’s Calendar. Until the secular calendar changed in the 18th century, St. Lucy’s day was the shortest day of the year – the day when the hours of daylight reached their lowest point.
The 17th century priest and poet, John Donne – who became Dean of St. Paul’s, wrote a poem entitled “A nocturnall upon St.Lucie’s day, being the shortest day” which began with the words: ‘Tis the yeares midnight’ which captures the sense that on St. Lucy’s day the world is at its lowest ebb. It was the time of the pagan midwinter solstice when Nature is at its deadest, which for us is marked by cold and cheerless weather, a longing to be warm indoors – our own version of hibernation, a looking forward to the light of spring. For our forebears it was a time of terror, confusion and darkness, of infertility, hunger and danger as the sun’s light all but disappears. The Christian overlaying of this time of the year with the Festival of Christmas is no accident – the early fathers of the Church were determined not only to stamp out paganism by replacing it with new interpretation – they also recognised that midwinter was a time of gloom, despair and shadows. What better than to transform it with a festival of light and joy. So the observance of Christmas in late December seemed a natural development. St. Lucy’s day anticipates that and in Sweden and other Nordic countries it is a day of great celebration of Light.
St. Lucy’s day, falling in mid-Advent became a natural turning point as, in old calculation, we pass the shortest day and move slowly but certainly towards the re-birth that we know as Spring. From the day of her feast – though now from December 21st – the light returns; hope in new birth is gradually awakened and the year’s midnight turns towards a new dawn – the dawn of spring, still some time off but from that moment coming ever near. Here is promise and hope. It is perhaps harder for us in a world of artificial light to fully understand the relief of insecure primitive man as light returns. Lucy, representing Light became the pivot on which the world turns.
The Christian interpretation is easy to see – as the anticipation of the Christmas festival begins to gather pace. St. Lucy’s day marks not only the restoration of the Sun’s light – it marks much more the movement towards the celebration which, in the words of St. John’s Gospel, is about God’s light coming into the world – the light which ‘shines in the darkness’ and which the darkness cannot overcome. The physical ‘world’s midnight’ is reinterpreted as its ‘spiritual midnight’. The darkness and gloom of unbelief is pinpricked with a dawning light shining from the Incarnation of God’s Son who , in St. John’s words, is the ‘true light, which enlightens everyone.’ He was coming into the world.
The place of Light in the Christian tradition is always connected with Christ. We fill our churches with candlelight which, in former times, had a practical purpose, but as with most things Christian, is also resonant with a spiritual interpretation. In many churches there is perpetually a light burning before the sacrament in the aumbry or tabernacle – a reminder of the light within contained in the Blessed Sacrament – a symbol itself of Christ’s perpetual presence amongst us. How many, like me, have entered a church when it is dark and been drawn to that pinprick of light and have known that whatever life throws at us, there is always the light of Christ drawing us from gloom, darkness, life’s pain and confusion towards Him who is both Light and hope? This is the essence of Christmas – a festival to banish the darkness of winter which for the world is symbolised by decorated trees, carols, songs and festive fare and much tumult but which has, at its heart, the silent pinprick of light puncturing the darkness and refusing to be overcome by it. What hope that contains!
So we move through Advent towards the certainty of that light and as we pass St. Lucy’s day we are reminded that whilst there is suffering in this life, not least throughout the pandemic which has marred 2020, – there is beyond it a real hope. This hope is to be found in the ‘meaning’ of Christmas which is a festival celebrated in darkness yet within that darkness is the faint glimmer of light which grows stronger as Christ leads us from Christmas to Resurrection.
How strong that glimmer becomes personally depends as much on us as on anything else. Christ has already lightened the yeare’s midnight. He has already come into the world. Whether he can penetrate through to our hearts depends on whether we are prepared to put our hopes and our trust in God so that in his Word to us at Christmas – which is Christ – we are drawn to celebrate his light – not as a cultural festival with all its trimmings which will be muted this year anyway– but as a profound sign that God really is in the midst of our lives, shining with the radiance of a love so powerful that not even our own worst fears, forebodings or the dark things that happen to us can drown him out.
Lucy, St Lucia – pure light gives us the word lucid – to make clear. In the morass of this present time may the light of hope, of love, of God become clear to us personally and shine in all our hearts and through us, into a world deeply in darkness and in need of Light.
A vibrant rainbow arcs across Norfolk Bay on the Tasman Peninsula, Tasmania, Australia.
An Advent reflection from my friend Joyce Smith.
God said, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you …. I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. (Genesis 9: 12-15)
As the last tears of rain fell to the waiting earth, the sun emerged from behind the darkened cloud and a rainbow arced across the sky.
A rainbow bright with promise fragile with love.
Each colour of the bow formed through brokenness each colour shining with hope.
The red, energetic and passionate; on the outside, yet enveloping the whole.
The orange, glowing and warm; encouraging, yet challenging.
The yellow, bright and sharp; fun-loving, yet self-giving.
The green, vibrant and fruitful; dancing, yet nurturing.
The blue, clear and concise; seeing, yet knowing.
The indigo, royal and strong; commanding, yet feeling.
The violet, mysterious and delicate on the inside, yet in touch with the edges.
Each colour, unique and special; each formed from the one broken and true light.
Each colour, unable to exist without the others; each a vital part of the bow.
Each a part of the promise; each a part of the brokenness.
Lord, as you remember your promise to us, help us to join together to be the colours of your rainbow; and reflect your one true light.
My friend Diana reflects on one of her favourite Advent hymns.
‘Lo! He comes with clouds descending’ is not a typical Advent hymn: these tend to be reflective and in minor keys. This one is a jolly good sing, but also has some theology in it, like all good hymns do. Many years ago, under a previous vicar, we used to sing it every week in Advent so I suspect it was a favourite of his too! I don’t think we should sing it that often as its very familiarity can stop us hearing its message.
It was written by Charles Wesley, so we shouldn’t be surprised at the theology, and the tune, Helmsley, was written by Thomas Olivers, a Welsh preacher and hymn writer. As is often the case with Wesley’s hymns there were more than the usual four verses that we have in our hymn books; it is likely that he started with a text by John Cennick, which starts with ‘Lo, he cometh, countless trumpets’. Charles Wesley modified some of the verses and in the New English hymnal we have the most popular version. If you look on line you can find some variations but all of them start with the image of the triumphant Christ of Revelation returning to earth, a second coming that will be very different from the first as a baby in Bethlehem.
However this hymn does not shy away from the story of Holy Week – in contrast to the image of the Son of Man coming on clouds, in line one, we are told that he was ‘once for favoured sinners slain.’ But this entrance into the world sees Jesus accompanied by ‘thousand thousand saints attending’. ‘Alleluya!’ they sing, we sing, ‘God appears on earth to reign.’ Wesley points out that everyone will see Jesus this time, including those who played a part in his killing. Now, though, they will see the ‘true Messiah’ the one the Jews had been expecting for millennia, the true King of all creation in power. But, the third verse goes on, don’t forget what happened, those scars can still be seen to remind us of the great love that he showed us at Calvary.
The fourth verse is all about giving Jesus the praise that he deserves as God the Son. We acknowledge him sitting on the eternal throne and we ask him, we plead for him, to claim the Kingdom with all his power and glory so that God’s Kingdom is established on earth in all its fullness. ‘Come quickly, O come quickly! Allelyua! Come, Lord, come!’ Amen
Lo! he comes with clouds descending, once for favoured sinners slain; thousand thousand saints attending swell the triumph of his train: Alleluya! God appears, on earth to reign.
Every eye shall now behold him robed in dreadful majesty; those who set at nought and sold him, pierced and nailed him to the tree, Deeply wailing shall the true Messiah see.
Those dear tokens of his passion Still his dazzling body bears, Cause of endless exultation To his ransomed worshippers: With what rapture Gaze we on those glorious scars!
Yea, amen! let all adore thee, high on thine eternal throne; Saviour, take the power and glory: claim the kingdom for thine own: O come quickly! alleluya! come, Lord, come!
Mr G's Ponderings 