Ortus Christi: Meditations for Advent

PRAYERS

PRAYER OF VEN. FATHER OLIER

ORTUS CHRISTI

"Arise, be enlightened, … for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee… The Lord shall arise upon thee … the Gentiles shall walk in thy light, and kings in the brightness of thy rising" (ortus).

1st Prelude. A picture of the first streaks of dawn.

2nd Prelude. Grace to arise because the Light has come.

The Church begins her new liturgical year with the words: "Ad Te levavi animam meam" – To Thee have I lifted up my soul ("Introit" for to-day) – as though she were straining her eyes to try to see something on the horizon. She cannot see anything very definite yet, but she is full of hope. Deus meus, in Te confido, non erubescam– My God I trust in Thee, let me not be ashamed, do not let me lift up my eyes in vain, she cries; and she keeps on looking. This will be her attitude all through the season of Advent, an attitude of expectancy, of waiting, of hope, of trust, of prayer. We know for what she is waiting – the Ortus Christi– the Rising of Christ. "The Lord shall arise upon thee" is the promise. "To Thee have I lifted up my soul" is her response. What is in her mind when she sees those first streaks of light? They are to her an earnest of what is coming, an earnest of the Advent of her Lord. St. Bernard says that His Advent is threefold, that He comes in three different ways: (1) In the flesh and in weakness, (2) in the spirit and in power, (3) in glory and in majesty.

The Church knows how much these three Comings mean to her children, and so at the first sign of dawn she forgets the long weary night, and calls to each one: "Arise, be enlightened for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." "Behold the Bridegroom cometh, go ye forth to meet Him."

Let us then begin our Advent in the spirit of the Church. Let us arise once more as she bids us, rouse ourselves that is, to look with her at the dawn, while we say to ourselves: "Behold He cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping over the hills. Behold He standeth behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the lattices." As we look we hear the voice of our Beloved, He is speaking to His Church. What has He to say as soon as He comes in sight? "Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come" (Cant. ii. 8-10). It is the same injunction: "Arise."

If the Bridegroom is rising, it is evident that the Bride must do the same. He is rising to come to His Bride, she must rise to go to Him. How? By meditating on His Advents; by thanking Him once more for them; by asking herself what use she has made of them hitherto, what use she intends to make during this New Year that is beginning; by preparing herself for them; by remembering that as His Bride she has a very real share in each.

1. The past Coming, "in the flesh and in weakness." We shall think about this coming more especially at Christmas, for which the season of Advent is a preparation. "The bright and morning star" (Apoc. xxii. 16) will by then have risen in all its fulness. The Word will be made Flesh and once more we shall rise in the "quiet silence" of the night to worship our God "in the flesh and in weakness."

2. The present Coming, "in the spirit and in power" – His Coming in grace to the soul, to dwell with it by His Spirit. "In power" – because only He Who is omnipotent could work such a stupendous miracle as the miracle of grace. This miracle could never have been worked, had it not been for the first Coming. "The Word was made Flesh" that He might by His death redeem His people and restore to them the kingdom of grace which they had lost in Adam. This second Coming is to prepare us for the third.

3. The future Coming, in "glory and in majesty" when He shall "come again with glory to judge both the living and the dead," and when all will be forced to rise and go to meet Him whether they will or not. It is those, who have risen voluntarily to meet their God in His second Coming, who will have no fear of the third. The second Coming, then, the Coming in grace, is the most practical one for us as we begin our Advent, and upon it we will meditate in our third point.

This is what God's Coming in grace means – a soul in the state of grace is the host of the Blessed Trinity, neither more nor less. "We will come to Him and will make our abode with him," (St. John xiv. 23) and from the moment that grace enters, the soul becomes the abode of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost.

It was at the moment of Baptism that our souls were raised to the dignity of being hosts of God Himself. What happened then? God added to the natural gifts with which He had endowed man supernatural ones, summed up in the gift of grace. What is that? A participation in His own life, something which makes us "partakers of the Divine nature." (2 Pet. i. 4). He created man thus in the beginning, for He meant man always to possess supernatural as well as natural gifts. He meant always to live with man and talk and walk with him in the paradise of his soul; but Adam chased out the Divine Guest and lost this miraculous privilege for all his children. God, however, could not rest content to be outside the souls which He had created solely that He might live in them, and He devised a way (the first Coming of Christ) by which He might get back to the dwelling which He cherished so much. We need not follow the beautiful story of the Redemption through all its wondrous steps, we know it well enough; we will take it up at Baptism, when the divine gift of life which Adam lost was restored to the soul, when God came back to His chosen dwelling, and the soul regained its responsible position of host to the Blessed Trinity. When Satan had noticed that the soul was left exposed, that it was a human soul only, with nothing divine about it, he naturally had taken possession, as he does of all empty houses; (St. Matt. xii. 44) so at Baptism the Priest said: "Depart from him, thou unclean spirit, and give place to the Holy Ghost." Where the Holy Ghost is, there are also the Father and the Son. The Blessed Trinity, then, waits to take possession of each soul, waits to come back to Its own, waits to restore the privilege that man had at the beginning.

Thus the new creation takes place, and the soul is no longer a human soul only, but divine, for the Divine Life within has made it one with Itself. Does man realize this privilege and rise to it? No! For the greater part of Christians we are obliged to say: No. As soon as they come to years of discretion, they invite back the unclean spirit and chase out their Divine Guest. What base ingratitude! And what folly! But God, who is rich in mercy is not repelled by such conduct; His one thought is to go back to His Temple which has been so profaned, and the scheme of Redemption included a method, (the Sacrament of Penance,) whereby, if man would, he could drive out the devil and invite back the Divine Guest. Is God angry? Does He upbraid? Does He allude to the past and throw doubts on the future? No, He loves, and all He asks in return is love. Such is our Guest!

Now what is my side of this great question? I am, or if I am not, I can be, a Temple of God. God is living within me. How much do I think about it? I often talk about recalling the Presence of God, but it is His Presence within me that I have to recall. I make Acts of Contrition, of Love. To Whom? To the God within me. Do not let me forget that my heart is an altar where I can, whenever I will, adore God. He is there to walk with me and talk to me as He did to Adam of old. He wants me to live side by side with Him, and talk to Him as naturally as I do to my friend.

Let me try this Advent, as one of the best ways of preparing for the Coming of Christ at Christmas, and for His Coming in judgment, to realize what the supernatural life means, what God in me means, what it means to be the host always of God Himself. The realization will transform my life, will alter my point of view, will change me from a mediocre Christian into one who is filled with a great idea and who is occupied with it every moment of his time – an idea which is ever stimulating him to aim higher. God in me– then I am never alone, my life is intimately bound up with God's life. I am a partaker of His nature. O my God, forgive me for having thought of it so little; help me to rise to my great privileges. I thank Thee for letting a few streaks of Thy Divine Light reach my dark soul, and by the time that the Sun of Justice has risen in all His splendour this Advent, may my soul be flooded with the new light which the realization of the Divine Presence within it, will surely bring.

Colloquy with God within me.

Resolution. To realize this truth to-day, and every day more and more.

Spiritual Bouquet. "We will come to Him and make our abode with Him."

OUR LADY'S REST

1st. Prelude. A statue of Our Lady.

2nd. Prelude. Grace to "abide in the inheritance of the Lord."

That the Church intends us to spend the season of Advent with our Blessed Mother is quite evident to anyone who takes the trouble to study the Liturgy. The Bridegroom is coming, but it is through the Virgin-Mother that He will come; and if we would be amongst the first to greet Him, if we desire a large share of His grace, if we would have no fear of His judgments, we must keep close to Mary.

The Church applies these words to Mary; let us try to see what they mean and how far we may copy her in her determination. "The inheritance of the Lord," what is it? The words bear many interpretations but we cannot be wrong, surely, in thinking that this inheritance was Mary's own soul; it was indeed "the inheritance of the Lord," an inheritance to which the Blessed Trinity had a special right, the Father because He had created her in grace, the Son because He had saved her from the stain of original sin, the Holy Ghost because He had ever sanctified her and kept her "full of grace." But what was it that made this inheritance more pleasing to God than any of the other souls which He had redeemed? Mary's correspondence with grace we naturally answer; but what do we mean by that? We mean, or we ought to mean, that Mary realized to the full that God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost lived within her; and hence her resolution to abide in "the inheritance of the Lord," never to leave her Divine Guest, never to forget that she was the host and that it was her privilege to entertain. This is surely the secret of Mary's life and of her correspondence with grace. She dwelt in closest union with the God who dwelt within her.

Where did she seek this rest, this calm of which her whole life speaks? Within her own soul with her Divine Guest, in other words Mary lived an interior life. She preferred a life inside with God, to one outside in the world. Hers was a continual realization of God's Presence – of God's Presence within her; and it was this realization which enabled her to find rest in every circumstance of her chequered life. She did not allow outward events to mar her interior calm. Her Divine Guest was always there and to Him she could always turn. The consequence was that she was never agitated, disquieted, excited, anxious, troubled. She dwelt "in the inheritance of the Lord," and there she sought rest in all things whether it was in:

The joy of the Archangel's visit, or the difficulty of her visit to Elizabeth.

The anguish of the reception at Bethlehem, or the joy at the birth of her Son.

The Angels who sang: Glorias at His birth, or the neighbours who made unkind remarks.

The shepherds who came to worship in their poverty, or the Wise Men in all their pomp and splendour.

The ecstasy caused by her Babe's smile, or the distress caused by His tears.

The words of the Angel: "Of His Kingdom there shall be no end," or the words of Simeon: He shall be "a sign which shall be contradicted."

The peaceful home-life with Jesus and Joseph, or the hurried flight into Egypt.

The anguish of losing Him (Desolation), or the joy of finding Him (Consolation).

The active work for the little household, or the times of contemplation at Jesus' feet.

The long, happy days at Nazareth with her Son, or the sad day when He left His Mother's roof.

The account of His success: "All men go to Him," or the account of His failure: "They all forsook Him and fled."

The cry: "Hosannah, blessed is He!" or the cry: "Crucify Him, crucify Him! it is not fit that He should live."

The agony of watching Him suffer and die, or the delight of seeing His glorified Body.

The pain of being left in exile on earth, or the joy of hearing Him say: "Arise, My fair one and come, the winter is over."

In omnibus requiem quaesivi.– Not that all these things were the same to her, not that she was indifferent or did not care, she cared more than anyone else could, for her heart was perfect and therefore more delicate and sensitive than any other except the Sacred Heart of Jesus. What then was her secret? That she lived with the Blessed Trinity, and that made her see God's Will in all that happened to her, and see it so vividly that she almost lost sight of the particular circumstances, and hardly knew whether they were painful or joyful. The pain was a joy because it was God's Will, and the joy was only a joy because it was God's Will; so she never wanted to change any thing. She sought rest in the holy habitation, the home of the Blessed Trinity; she pondered things over in her heart, that is, she talked about them with her Divine Guest.

The child must copy the Mother. How is it with me? Surely if anyone ought to realize the Divine Presence within, it is a child of Mary! How far do I copy Our Lady in her interior life? What do I know of that deep calm within, into which I can always retire and seek rest, and where I can, if I will, rest so entirely that outward circumstances make little difference? If I have made the same resolution as Our Lady; namely, to "abide in the inheritance of the Lord;" pain and anxiety and difficulty will be an actual source of joy, because they afford an excuse for an extra visit to the Home within, and for longer conversations than usual with my loved Guest. If a difficulty or a humiliation or something that I do not like comes in my way, I shall not be troubled, my first thought will be with my Divine Guest. He has permitted this, even planned it. I will go and talk to Him about it, find out what He means, what He wants me to do and how I can best act in the circumstances to gain glory for Him. This is what is meant by the interior life, and it can be, it ought to be, far stronger than the exterior. It means a holy indifference to everything except God's Will; it means rest and peace about everything that happens, without any desire to have things altered; it takes all anxiety and disquiet and perplexity out of life and leaves a great calm which nothing has the power to disturb except a will in opposition to God's Will.

In omnibus requiem quaesivi.– Is it so very hard? Perhaps, for it means the spiritual life, and that means a continual battle against self; but it is a battle worth fighting. To fight is not only the way to "seek rest," but it is also the surest way to obtain it; for they alone who are continually fighting to keep the enemy out can hope to detain their Divine Guest within.

Colloquy with Mary. Help me, my Mother, to dwell, this Advent, in "the inheritance of the Lord," and when outward things are too much for me and I am apt to behave in a manner unworthy of a child of thine, do thou lead me by the hand into the place of rest and calm, where God Himself dwells, and where I shall see things from His point of view.

"O God, who didst please that Thy Word should take flesh, at the message of an angel, in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, grant to Thy suppliants, that we who believe her to be truly the Mother of God may be helped by her intercession."

(Collect to be said every day at Mass from Advent to Christmas Eve.)

Resolution. To "abide in the inheritance of the Lord" to-day.

Spiritual Bouquet. "In all things I sought rest."

MY SINS – A TRIPTYCH

"The night is past, and the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness and put on the armour of light."

1st. Prelude. The Foot of the Cross where my sins have all been laid.

2nd. Prelude. The grace of contrition and firm resolution.

It is clear from the words which she has chosen for her "Epistle" for the First Sunday of Advent that the Church intends us during this solemn season to think about sin, – the darkness of the past night and the light of the day that is coming and our duty with regard to both. It is not sin in the abstract, but our own personal sins that we are to consider. "Let us cast off the works of darkness." If the Apostle Paul included himself in that "us," we need not fear to do the same. It is meet, when we are thinking on the one hand of Him Who is coming to save us from our sins and on the other of His coming to judge us "according to our works," that we should give some thought to those sins. Nothing will better help us to understand the mercy of the Saviour and the justice of the Judge than a meditation upon our own sins. God forgets the sins He has forgiven, but it is better for us, more wholesome and more humiliating, to remember them sometimes. David says: "My sin is always before me" (Ps. l. 5). The object of this meditation, then, is not to cause trouble in the soul – trouble about sins that are forgiven can only come from the devil – but to excite in us a deeper contrition, more gratitude and a greater watchfulness.

Am I to consider all the sins of my life? The subject seems so vast, it is difficult to know how to condense it so that I may be able to bring it within my grasp. All sin may be summed up in one word – disobedience —non serviam. It was the sin of the Angels, it was the sin of our first parents and it is at the root of every sin that has ever been committed. God says: Thou shalt not, the sinner says: I will. God says: Do this and thou shalt live; the sinner says: I will not, I would rather die. Sin is man's will in opposition to God's Will. This thought simplifies the subject and makes it easier for me to call up the sins of my life and look at them. Let me make a picture of them – a triptych, a picture, that is, with three panels side by side, the middle one shall be called Places, that on the right hand Persons and that on the left Work.

1. Places. As I look at the middle picture I see it consists of numbers and numbers of small ones, each representing some place that is familiar to me – there is the house where I was born, there the school I attended, houses I have visited, hotels where I have stayed, gardens, playgrounds, lonely roads, walks on cliffs, villages, towns, churches, the sea-side, trams, omnibuses, trains, boats, bicycles, carriages, stations… I am fascinated and cannot help looking still, though the variety and number are almost bewildering. Each picture is so familiar; some awaken sweet and precious memories, from some I quickly turn away my eyes. All can witness to my presence, how many can witness also to my sins? "Indeed the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not." (Gen. xxviii. 16). That may to some extent be true and if so there is One who is always ready to say: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." I know how much I knew, and the best thing, the only thing for me to do is to make an Act of Contrition.

2. Persons. I turn to the right hand panel and there are crowds and crowds of faces, each one familiar – father, mother, brothers, sisters, relations, servants, teachers, scholars, friends, enemies, priests, confessors, acquaintances … what impression have I left upon each of these? If they could be called up and asked: "What did you think of so and so?" what would they have to say? They would have something, for I left some impression – and yet none of them know me as I really am. The three Persons of the Blessed Trinity have been near me always and always observant. They really know me. What have They to say? "If Thou, O Lord, wilt mark iniquities, Lord, who shall stand it?" (Ps. cxxix. 3).

This picture makes me sad! That is just what Our Lord wants from this meditation. Let me offer once more my heartfelt contrition and He will be glad that I had the courage to open the triptych.

3. Work. As I turn to the panel on the left I feel that I can breathe more freely – my work will certainly give satisfaction! It is something to be proud of; I have always got on well; I have never been idle and I have had a certain measure of success, and I feel that in that respect at any rate my life will bear inspection. But this picture too, as I look at it, seems to be divided up. Yes, I can see quite clearly all the different works upon which I have been engaged. All are very familiar and bring back for the most part happy memories, but some of them seem to be labelled. – What is it that is written across them? "You did it to Me." And all the rest that have no labels? They do not count – so evidently considered the One Who put on the labels. He left them, passed them over, there was nothing there for Him. But that hospital that was founded is not labelled, nor that legacy promised for a charitable purpose! Surely some of these without labels are "good works!" And these that are labelled are such insignificant things, things I should never have remembered at all if they were not in the picture – a kind word, a smile, a hasty word kept back because I knew it would pain Him, suffering cheerfully borne because I wanted to be like Him who suffered for me. Why these and not those? Because He prefers little things? No, but because of the motive. Had the hospital been built out of love for Him and His sick, had it been built for the glory of God and not for the glory of self, it too would have been labelled. Had the hasty word been kept back that others might notice my self-control, it would not have been labelled. What counts with God is the intention with which a thing is done. If it is done out of love for Him, no matter how insignificant it is, yea, no matter how badly done, it will surely be labelled "You did it to Me," and it will last when the mighty works that men have so much praised are crumbling in the dust, labelled with another label You did it not unto Me. Have I not need to make another Act of Contrition as I think of my works, my love of gain, my ambition, love of praise and success, of the motives of my so-called works of charity, of the times in which I have allowed my work to take the first place in my life, while my soul had to take the second?