Yesterday, December 17th, marked the first day in which the Great O Antiphons of Advent are sung. Do I hear you ask, oh Reader, “what are the Great O Antiphon”? I am glad you do, for I had never heard of this beautiful liturgical custom until this year.
The Great O Antiphons are a series of seven special antiphons which are sung before the Magnificat at Vespers each day from December 17th through December 23rd, begging our Lord to make haste and come. Each of the antiphons begins by addressing the Messiah by one of His titles. The first begins, O Sapientia – that is, O Wisdom - and the others follow suit: O Adonai – O Lord; O Radix Jesse – O Root of Jesse; O Clavis David – O Key of David; O Oriens – O Rising Sun; O Rex Gentium – O King of Nations; and finally, O Emmanuel – O, God with us
The Antiphons are of great antiquity. The sixth century philosopher, Boethius, makes mention of them, and by the 8th century, they were a tradition part of the Roman Liturgy. The Antiphons are singular to Christmas. No other feast in the Church – not even Easter – has anything similar preceding the feast. Given their venerable age, and their unique standing, it seems a pity that they are not better known. Therefore, I am posting a clip of the antiphon for today, O Adonai:
For an brief history and explanation of the O Antiphons, this site is a good place to start.
That begins today, and is commemorated by a series of special Antiphons which are sung during the Divine Office. They are called the Great O Antiphons as each on starts with the exclamation "O".
O Sapientia
O Adonai
O Redix Jesse
O Clavis David
O Oriens
O Rex Gentium
O Emmanuel
The practice of sing the Antiphons goes back at least to 5th century, but the origin of the custom is unknown. There is a good - albeit brief article here, if you'd like more information.
Today marks one week until the Vigil of Christmas, and the beginning of the recitation of the 'O' Antiphons. I have mentioned the Antiphons before, but in the interest of thoroughness, I offer you this short history, from that most excellent website, Hymns and Carols of Christmas.
I always think I am going to mark this Advent posting each of the Antiphons on this blog, on their respective days. I have yet to manage it, but this year, I am off to a decent start by providing not only a link to O Sapientia, but also a little sketch of my own creation, to go along with the hymn.
Normally, of course, I would post a bit of plain chant for your enjoyment, however, the idea of a being flashmobbed with a bit of Advent-tide polyphony so tickled my sense of delight, that I decided to post this one instead. Enjoy:
Today, December 17th, marks the beginning of the Great O Antiphons. I have written about these days before Christmas elsewhere on this blog, and shall not repeat myself here. Instead, I am intending to do something slightly different this time around: I am going to make little drawings of them, but the wording on them will be in both Latin, and in Old, or Middle English as well. There was a long tradition of English poetry based off these Antiphons, that I find very beautiful, and also, rather homely-- in the British sense. Also, rather than posting a Gregorian Chant of each antiphon, I will be highlighting the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt's compositions.
Today's Antiphon runs thusly: O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodidisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviter disponensque omnia: veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae. In Modern English it translates: O Wisdom, who came from the mouth of the Most High, reaching from end to end and ordering all things mightily and sweetly: come, and teach us the way of prudence. For some inexplicable reason, the Middle English source I discovered today (On the incomparable Clerk of Oxford blog) translates "viam prudentiae" as "way of flight). And while I am quite aware that Latin 'p' becomes 'f' in English, and that 'l' and 'r' can be somewhat interchangeable (think of how we pronounce "colonel") I can see no way that prudentiae could every become flight. Nor has an admittedly cursory etymological dig about ze internets turned up anything that might even slightly shed light upon this oddity. Still, I liked the imagery-- the flight of God's Wisdom teaching us to fly as He does-- and so, Wisdom, in my doodle, is an odd, winged thing.
As I have mentioned recently, I am exceedingly delighted by the effect of drawing in white on a black background. I love how that interplay gives off such a delightful impression of light-- moonlight, starlight, snowlight, the gemlight of pearl and crystal. It isn't a particularly warm combination-- you will notice all the examples I give are of quite cold, clear lights. And yet, that is part of the charm of it: stars are brightest in the cold, clear air of winter, and are their most beautiful. The pale light that snow gives off has no warmth to it, but by it, the darkest time of the year is brightened, and the heart is cheered by the sight. (Not, of course, that I am suggesting my own doodling carries anything of that with it; but drawing in this reverse fashion gives me the same sort of feeling.) Therefore, this year's Antiphons shall be done up in white on black:
Look at me! I managed to get through the entire series of O Antiphons without missing a post. Today is the last one. O Emmanuel - O, God with us! So I am rushing the season and doing a Christ Child illustration. I thought that the following was rather charmingly shot, so you get a very straight forward chant by two monks:
I did not post yesterday, and for that I apologise. I am making up for it by posting yesterday and today's antiphons together.
I am also not going to write anything at all about them, though I shall recommend again that you visit A Clerk of Oxford read all of her delightful research about the O Antiphons and their poetic English adaptions. Instead, I shall tell a story about why I did not post yesterday, and how very indulgent our dear Lord can be towards His idiotic children.
I must begin with, I must admit that I am not, by nature, a particularly social creature. I do not generally enjoy big get togethers (with rare exceptions for family shindigs and the like... and even with those, I tend to require some down time afterwards), and my dislike of them increases the bigger they are, and the more people in attendance whom I do not know. Yesterday, we were scheduled to have a get together at work-- and while I can usually deal with the regular old staff Christmas party (though, again, I do not enjoy them) I get anxious when the invitations start going out to people I do not know, even if they are technically coworkers (insofar as they are employed by the same county as I am). Yesterday's do was a combination of a farewell luncheon for our Library Director, who is retiring at the end of this month, a Branch Managers' meeting with at least 6 people who are effectively strangers (for all I have seen them occasionally over my many years of service) and the usual staff party. And I have been dreading it for months. I would have rather been sick, go to therapy, have a root canal, etc, than to attend this thing... in spite of the fact that for a rarity, it was not on an Ember Day in Advent, and that it boasted a very delectable spread (my coworkers being a very foodie group of people). I was actually praying I would catch the virulent cold going around, so that I would not have to put in an appearance, and make small talk with people whose interests are almost guaranteed to be nothing at all like mine. It wasn't a terribly wild hope-- several people at work have already succumbed, and I might be the single remaining healthy person in my family.
And yet, to my great discouragement, I remained obdurately hale and robust.
.... Until yesterday.....
When I woke up with a slightly scratchy throat, a feeling of great tiredness, and a weariness in my joints, that turned into just a bit of an achiness as I was up an about.
It was all very mild. I have soldiered through much worse. And so I got myself up and to work, feeling rather sad that the cold I was obviously getting, was going to be behind schedule, and I was going to be even less inclined to be around people, thanks to all that tired.
I felt worse once I got to work. This is usual for me. By that time I've been up about 2 hours and am starting to lose the morning sluggishness I have even on the best of days. That is when I find out if my general malaise is a fleeting thing, or if I am actually going to have a bad day. In this case, I did not trust my own judgment in the slightest, as I so desperately wanted to not be there. and figured I was psyching myself into feeling worse than I was. I made a deal with God: I wasn't going home unless I got sent home-- and unlikely contingency, as my boss was in her meeting, and everyone else was excited about morning break, and the coffee cake in the back. Besides, I was healthy, just not wanting to be at work.
... Only, one of my coworkers noticed I was dragging..... and then another..... and before I really knew what was happening, I found one of them ladling up a bowl of soup and another putting a rib and mashed potatoes on a plate to take home with me, and though I protested that I felt bad leaving them, and that I was scheduled to work the desk for 4 hours that afternoon, I was gently but firmly shown the door.
So I went home, feeling only slightly bad about it, because I had made a deal with God, figuring that I was going to be spending the day Offering Things Up, and He sent me home.
And I slept for 3 hours, which tends to mean I truly am getting sick.
And woke up today feeling fine.
So that just goes to show-- Our very silly, sentimental God can be ridiculously indulgent of His idiot children, even when they do not deserve it in the slightest.
And now, the O Antiphon from yesterday: O Radix Jesse, and the Antiphon for today: O Clavis Dauvid, along with their appropriate music:
I tried to think of something inspirational to say, but the mind is not what she used to be. Just listen to this, and read the translation, and tell me if you are not ready for Christmas. (Yes, this one ends the same way as the last - the O Antiphons are sung before the Magnificat , and these videos include that is well. There were shorter ones to chose from, but I liked the quality of these, and the translation. So there.)
Look at me, managing two sketches and two blog posts in a row! This is the second day of the O Antiphons, and we great Christ as Adonai, as Lord. I really like the word "adonai". It is fun to say. It looks enough like Latin to sneak by, but it is Hebrew, and has a good deal more meaning packed into it than either our English word "lord"or the Latin word, "domino".
Here is the Antiphon, sung beautifully plain, and by a single voice:
This is my favourite of the Antiphons. There are so many gorgeous translations for the first word: O, Oriens! O Radiant Dawn! O Daystar! I love that description of our Lord. (When I looked up pictures for it, since that is the quickest way to find the Latin text, one of the suggestions that came up was Earendil.... which delighted me excessively.) I came really, really close to posting the long-threatened polyphony today. I found one that started out with the chant, and then added harmonies afterwards. I liked it... and then I didn't. However it seems a pity not to encourage you all to here it, so if you want to skip the superiour chant posted below, and listen this instead, you may. But really, the chant is better. There are bells:
And, of course, you should check out the video with the explanation and meditation upon this great Antiphon. (It gets bonus points for starting with what might possibly be my favourite Bible verse ever... it is certainly my favourite line in the Mass :-)
Today is the 3rd Sunday of Advent-- Guadete Sunday. It is also, by a happy coincidence, the 17th of December, and therefore, the day on which the Catholic Church begins singing the Great O Antiphons in preparation of the coming feast. There is a beautiful Latin version here (and I highly encourage you to listen to it) but I am, posting the following video, which features it in English, and also has a short explanation of the Antiphon.
Last year, I expressed my determination to post the Antiphon for each day, and failed, of course. I am going to attempt again this year, because they are beautiful and ancient, and I love them.
Well, clearly my good intentions regarding the Great 'O' Antiphons came to naught. Such a pity. It is amazing how Life can be such a passionate mishmash of Joy of the Season, and Irritation of So High A Degree That One Wants to Punch Things and Possibly People... And further, how such a mishmash, even when Joy is the predominate emotion, renders one incapable of sincere and coherent blog posts.
However, this is the season of the Christmas - the Great Christmas, or the Long Christmas as it has also been called - and however high Irritation might occasionally wax, it is a season of Joy and Good Will, of Music and Merriment, and Wonder at the God-made-Infant. And as such, it is unfitting not to mark it in someway here on this space on the Internet that attempts to devote itself to such glorious matters. (My how grandiose and self-important we have become!)
So first and foremost: A most merry and blessed Christmas to all of you! Please take a minute to enjoy this beautiful card, which I received from the Tolkien Society on Christmas Eve and which went a long way to putting me into the proper spirit of the great and holy Season:
I find it a particularly poignant picture, as it is based on a little sketch Tolkien appearing on this sheet of doodles, made during the time between his marriage to Edith, and being called up for active duty in the First World War. (There is also a wee kilted Scot in the corner. This pleases me.)
I also had every intention of sharing this St. Stephen's Day carol yesterday, when it actually was st. Stephen's Day, but alas, I was inefficient. Still it is a goodly song, and one that makes for good listening, so I am sharing it anyway, with apologies for my tardiness:
I also have a more timely carol to share - one in honour of St. John the Evangelist, whose feast day is today, and for which I have manifestly been unable to find an appropriate recordings of until today, though I first came across mention of it several years ago. This is a tune alternately known as To The Now, Crystys Der Derlyng or Prey for Us, Though Prince of Pes.
I shall now close, as it is half past ten, and I should like this to go up when it is still St. John's Day, properly speaking, and not flirting with being the Feast of the Holy Innocents. Merry Christmas to us all, my dears, and God bless us, everyone.
I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In, seems a good almost-Epiphany song, so that is what I am going to post today:
Today is also the feast day of St. Edward the Confessor, the last Anglo Saxon King of England and the uncle of St. Margaret of Scotland. I did spend a certain amount of the day attempting research on Anglo Saxon Christmases, to very little avail. I did, however, and most happily make a discovery. In spite of my interest in Old English language and poetry, I am only passingly familiar with Cynewulf's Crist -- here meaning that I am very aware of its importance, know that it is an epic poem on about our Lord, and (because I am me) that it is the poem containing the line Eala Earendel, Engla Beorhtast, which inspired Tolkien's story of Earendil. What I did not know is that the first part of the poem-- the Advent part, the part praising the bright light of Earendel-- are a poetic expansion of the Great O Antiphons sung by the Church during the last days leading up to Christmas. This delighted me all out of proportion. So, in order to sneak in a little Anglo Saxon, in honour of King Edward, I am presenting to you the following:
So... I really and truly meant to put up the O Antiphons each day, but I only managed about half of them. What can I say? Life has a way of interfering with the most well-meaning intentions, and bringing them to naught. There is always next year. Moving on:
It's Christmas Day! Or rather Christmas Evening. It has been a nice day - we even had enough snow to qualify for a white Christmas! - but I am tired from Midnight Mass last night, followed by the 5 am rising this morning. I came home from the folk's house, and played Carols on the pipes (I hope my neighbours appreciate me) and now I am sitting in a living room, lit only by Christmas tree and candlelight, sipping wassail, and nibbling honey bourbon peanuts, whilst listening to music:
Since I was not able to get all the posts done that I wanted earlier this week, I am finishing off with this timely video of Puer Natus in Bethlehem, sung heartily and with fine, manly vigour by.... La Ermita de San Jose. I think that is what they call themselves. That is what shows up on the title at the beginning at any rate. My Spanish is weak - the Hermits of St. Joseph? I don't know, but it is good, and it makes me very happy.
