Category: Advent/Christmas

The present moment

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

We, as a religious community, celebrate Christmas for 40 days, so I will be sharing a few Sunday Christmas poems during this season. The first is by Sally Read from her collection, Dawn of this Hunger. A beautiful description of the unique bond between Mary and her Christ-child, but with a word for us as well.

Incarnation

From the remotest dawn, from a yellow eye,
sharper than the eagle’s, that sees each one of us
scuttling in the shadow of a protective wing,
he falls to Earth—blind. Those first nights
the short distance between her breast and face
is as far as he can see. She is his first sight
of the world as man—our one pure sign.
She only knows his Christ-eyes latching
onto hers as fiercely as his gums clamp down
for milk. The future scrabbles, gnaws like rats
through a barn’s corners and its eaves.
But she is transfixed by his skin and insistence
on her as the only visible, only beautiful thing—
the present moment; this is the first lesson of prayer.

Incarnation

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

We, as a religious community, celebrate Christmas for 40 days, so I will be sharing a few Sunday Christmas poems during this season. The first is by Sally Read from her collection, Dawn of this Hunger. A beautiful description of the unique bond between Mary and her Christ-child, but with a word for us as well.

Incarnation

From the remotest dawn, from a yellow eye,
sharper than the eagle’s, that sees each one of us
scuttling in the shadow of a protective wing,
he falls to Earth—blind. Those first nights
the short distance between her breast and face
is as far as he can see. She is his first sight
of the world as man—our one pure sign.
She only knows his Christ-eyes latching
onto hers as fiercely as his gums clamp down
for milk. The future scrabbles, gnaws like rats
through a barn’s corners and its eaves.
But she is transfixed by his skin and insistence
on her as the only visible, only beautiful thing—
the present moment; this is the first lesson of prayer.

Behold, the Bridegroom Cometh

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

This is my absolute favorite Advent poem. (Saving the best until last.) This may not be surprising since I am a consecrated religious, and my life centers on Christ as my Spouse who I long for.

I have also included two songs—very different musically from each other—that also stir my heart. May you know this Christmas the truth of how much the Bridegroom yearns for his bride, you.

Advent Sunday

Behold, the Bridegroom cometh: go ye out
With lighted lamps and garlands round about
To meet Him in a rapture with a shout.

It may be at the midnight, black as pitch,
Earth shall cast up her poor, cast up  her rich.

It may be at the crowing of the cock
Earth shall upheave her depth, uproot her rock.

For lo, the Bridegroom fetcheth home the Bride:
His Hands are Hands she knows, she knows His side.

Like pure Rebekah at the appointed place,
Veiled, she unveils her face to meet His Face.

Like great Queen Esther in her triumphing,
She triumphs in the Presence of her King.

His Eyes are as a Dove’s, and she’s Dove-eyed;
He knows His lovely mirror, sister, Bride.

He speaks with Dove-voice of exceeding love,
And she with love-voice of an answering Dove.

Behold, the Bridegroom cometh: go we out
With lamps ablaze and garlands round about
To meet Him in a rapture with a shout.

~Christina Rossetti

Come Soon

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

This first Sunday of Advent, I thought I would share this lovely sonnet by Hazel Littlefield Smith. Hazel was born not too far from where I was raised in Michigan and spent her last years in Ann Arbor. She and her husband were missionaries in China for thirteen years during the “reign of the War Lords”. I love this sentence from her obituary: “Mrs. Smith never lost touch with the Michigan woods she loved so dearly.” I’m not sure where I came upon this poem of hers, but it seems perfect for the beginning of Advent.

Gerrit Dou – Old Woman at a Window with a Candle – GD-103 – Leiden Collection

Come Soon

I set my candle where the shadows loom,
A flame of faith between the eyes of fate,
And I am waiting in the windy gloom;
O come, my Love, for it is growing late.
Small doubts on darkling wings flit here and there
Uncertainly in the grey, lingering light,
Mysterious music haunts the troubled air,
And none but you can comfort me tonight.

I wait upon the moment’s hazard now;
Is there no power can hold the darkness back
Until you come? I do not disavow
Your promised love—the one thing I most lack.
The hour is late, dear Love, come soon, come soon;
Then shall the night be lovelier than noon.

While All the Earth in Darkness Sleeps

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

“This hymn was commissioned by the Benedict XVI Institute under the patronage of James Hudon. Part of the text was set to music by the composer Frank La Rocca. The sources of the hymn are fourfold: the main verses borrow from Christina Rossetti’s stanza in the classic “In the Bleak Midwinter” and draw on the nativity narratives of Matthew and Luke’s Gospels; the poem as a whole is shaped according to the Eastern Orthodox Akathist Hymn tradition, particularly its practice of offering seven praises after a chanted prose reading; and, finally, the third chorus of praises draws on the Western litany tradition and paraphrases the Litany of the Blessed Virgin.“

You can read this beautiful hymn here.

Someone is hidden in this dark with me

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

This Sunday’s poem is one by Jessica Powers, written in 1948, an apt poem for today, usually the Feast of the Immaculate Conception but this year coinciding with the second Sunday of Advent.

Advent

I live my Advent in the womb of Mary.
And on one night when a great star swings free
from its high mooring and walks down the sky
to be the dot above the Christus i,
I shall be born of her by blessed grace.
I wait in Mary-darkness, faith’s walled place,
with hope’s expectance of nativity.

I knew for long she carried me and fed me,
guarded and loved me, though I could not see.
But only now, with inward jubilee,
I come upon earth’s most amazing knowledge:
someone is hidden in this dark with me.

               ~Jessica Powers, The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, p. 81.