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[Dec. 24th, 2005|09:07 am] |
"ERO CRAS" = "Tomorrow I will be"
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2005|10:31 pm] |
O Emmanuel, Rex et legifer noster, exspectatio gentium, et Salvator earum: veni ad salvandum nos Domine Deus noster.
O Emmanuel, our King and Lawgiver, the Desire of all nations, and their Salvation: Come and save us, O Lord our God.
Hans Baldung Green, The Nativity, 1510
I love this painting - the faces seem so real, so full of emotion. Here is a detail of the shepherd's face, and here is Mary.
( Read more... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 22nd, 2005|04:13 pm] |
O Rex gentium, et desideratus earum, lapisque angularis, qui facis utraque unum: veni, et salva hominem, quem de limo formasti
O King of the Nations, and their Desire; the Cornerstone, who makest both one: Come and save mankind, whom thou formedst of clay.
( Read more... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2005|11:12 pm] |
O Oriens, splendor lucis aeternae, et sol justitiae: veni, et illumina sedentes in tenebris et umbra mortis.
O Day-Spring, Brightness of Light, everlasting and sun of Righteousness: Come and enlighten him that sitteth in darkness, and the shadow of death.
( Read more... ) |
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| Apology |
[Dec. 21st, 2005|07:39 pm] |
When I agreed to write the last week of entries for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) adventcalendar, I thought that there was no particular theme and anything adventy would do - hence the 'O Antiphons'. I've just looked at the userinfo and discovered that really I'm supposed to be writing Christmas memories - I feel very silly for not having looked at it before, or worked it out from what other people have written.
What should I do? Carry on as before? Or try to think of some Christmas memories? Or hand over to someone else?
(Apologies to ixwin if I should have emailed this - you obviously have final say if you want it - I just thought you might like other peoples' opinions too.)
the_alchemist |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2005|11:54 pm] |
O Key of David, and Sceptre of the house of Israel; that openest, and no man shuttests, and shuttest, and no man openeth: come and bring the prisoner out of the prison house, and him that sittest in darkness, and the shadow of death.
O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israel: qui aperis, et nemo claudit; claudis, et nemo aperit: venit, et educ vinctum de domo carceris, sedentem in tenebris et umbra mortis.
St Peter with his Key
Arian Baptistry, Ravenna, 6th-7th Century
( Read more... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 19th, 2005|11:57 pm] |
O Radix Jesse, qui stas in signum populorum, super quem continebunt reges os suum, quem gentes deprecabuntur: veni ad liberandum nos, jam noli tardare.
O Root of Jesse, which standest for an ensign of the people, at whom kings shall shut their mouths, to whom the Gentiles shall seek: Come and deliver us, and tarry not.
Detail of stained glass window depicting the Jesse Tree
Cathedral of Notre-Dame, Chartres, 13th century
( Read more... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 18th, 2005|10:05 am] |
O Adonai and Leader of the house of Israel, who appearedst in the Bush of Moses in a flame of fire, and gavest him the law in Sinai: Come and deliver us with an outstretched arm.
O Adonai, et Dux domus Israel, qui Moysi in igne flammae rubi apparuisti, et ei in sina legem dedisti: veni ad redimendum nos in brachio extento.
Philippe de Champaigne
Moses Presenting the Tablets of the Law, 1648. |
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| O Sapientia |
[Dec. 17th, 2005|02:17 pm] |
In the week leading up to Christmas, Christians look forward to the coming of Christ by calling upon him by a different name each day. Today we call him by the name of Sapientia - divine wisdom, and before singing Mary's great song of thanksgiving, the Magnificat at evening prayer, we sing:
O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviter disponensque omnia: veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.
O Wisdom, which camest out of the mouth of the most High, and reachest from one end to another, mightily and sweetly ordering all things: Come and teach us the way of prudence.
Illustration of Wisdom, Stammheim Missal, c.1170
( Read more... ) |
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| Another Christmas memory... |
[Dec. 15th, 2005|10:05 pm] |
This time I'm taking you back to my childhood.
I can't remember how old I was: young enough to believe that Santa's existence was the inferior sort that we physical beings enjoy.
Ironically the present I received - easily the best tangible present of my entire childhood - came about as a result of Santa's being skint.
It was called "Alastair's House".
It was a large cardboard box; I think it once contained a washing machine... its "walls" were papered with wallpaper that looked like brickwork, and into this was carved a door. The topmost side of the box was folded upwards into a "roof", which was painted white and decorated with spirols and the words "ALASTAIR'S HOUSE" in big, blue letters.
The House was filled to overflowing with balloons!
When I came downstairs sometime between the hours of 1 and 3 in the morning (it was my custom to go to bed as early as they'd let me on Christmas Eve for exactly this reason: "But I'm tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired!!!"), what I didn't realise was that my House was still soggy with wallpaper paste, and my dad and elder sister had only just persuaded the roof to desist from collapsing...
My eyes went wide with love and joy.
I failed to see the House's door, and dove in through the fragile roof, collapsing it inward!
To me, the House was far from ruined, though: to me it was perfect.
Interred at the bottom of my pile of balloons, I found my "proper" presents. I cared, but not much.
- king_laugh |
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| A Christmas memory... |
[Dec. 13th, 2005|08:40 pm] |
Over Christmas, 2 years ago, I had a hairy alter-ego!
And that hairy alter-ego's name was Braedolph the Reindeer.
I worked in Braehead shopping centre, you see (hence the cheesey name), and my job was to entertain customers by walking up and down in a reindeer costume!
In other words I was a professional cuddly toy.
My eyes were in my ostensible mouth, and I had tunnel vision. My ostensible legs were very short, and my ostinsible belly was in my crotch, and rode up on my something fierce.
My every gesture and step had to be greatly exaggerated to be seen through the costume, and I had to be led about by my elf. By the end of each day, my muscles ached!
I got incredibly hot and sweaty. After my elf, magicool and febreeze were my best friends. My plukes got all annoyed.
And the job did involve being hugged by people I couldn't necessarily see; this was unnerving!
There were many unpleasant lements to my job.
But it was still the best job I've ever had!
Partly because my elf was just the most incredible help ever: I'm still good friends with her, and still call her my elf!
But mostly because my job was to give and receive hugs; to love unconditionally and to be loved unconditionally.
The children did love me; I think it's safe to say the majority of them knew very well I was a man in a suit... still they loved me.
Giving and receiving unconditional love: this is Christmas!
- king_laugh |
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| Apologies |
[Dec. 8th, 2005|02:17 pm] |
I didn't do any preparation for adventcalendar this year; and I'm finding that I'm just not organised/energetic enough to make the time to write a new entry every day. Sorry :/
I would be very happy if someone else feels they could take over for this year. If you'd like to, then e-mail me (liz.stanton@ge.com) and I'll send you the password. If more than one person volunteers, I'll put everyone's lj usernames up here, and you can sort it out between yourselves (e.g. two people alternating days, or whatever) |
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| Father Christmas |
[Dec. 5th, 2005|10:12 pm] |
Obviously, my mother explained, Father Christmas – even with the aid of magic - could not possibly be in all the department stores and shopping centres where they claimed he was. And anyway, he couldn’t spend all of his days sitting in a grotto and talking to children – when would he have time to wrap the presents, or feed the reindeer?
Many of the Santas on the street or in the shops were just ordinary people in fancy-dress costumes – which was why they weren’t all that convincing. But some of them, she told me – perhaps one or two in each city – were official helpers to the great man himself, and it was their job to ask children what they wanted for Christmas, and report their answers back to him. |
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| Selfridges Windows and Oxford Street |
[Dec. 5th, 2005|10:11 pm] |
[belated from 4 December]
When I was a child, Selfridges department store used to tell a fairytale in their windows each December. Each of a dozen windows featured a detailed animated tableau accompanied by a paragraph of the chosen story – so that by stopping at each of the windows in turn, you would be told the whole of Peter Pan, or Sleeping Beauty.
High above, the Christmas lights shone on Oxford Street. For many years, they showed the Twelve Days of Christmas, starting with a Partridge in a Pear Tree at Marble Arch; and ending with Twelve Lords a Leaping just past Oxford Circus. I would sing the carol to myself as I travelled down the street, trying to co-ordinate the verses with each image as I passed under it. |
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| The Office Christmas Party |
[Dec. 3rd, 2005|10:08 am] |
They’re not a new thing – there’s one in A Christmas Carol after all.
The hierarchy blurs as everyone gets a bit tipsy. People who never encounter a dancefloor other than at weddings get down and boogie. Couples who’ve been eyeing each other for months finally get it together.
Like family Christmases, everyone remembers the ones that go wrong – the time it was held in a marquee, and the generator failed; the time the marketing manager had a few too many drinks and told everyone what he really thought of the boss.
It might not be poetic, but it’s still a part of Christmas for me. |
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The Advent Candle
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[Dec. 2nd, 2005|08:44 am] |
The light was switched off and a single candle was lit – one of those advent candles, with the days marked off on the side. A record (or, as I grew older, a CD) of carols was put on. Three or four carols on each day; the well known - Silent Night, O Come All Ye Faithful – mingling with the more obscure – Adam lay Ybounden, Past Three O-clock, the Calypso Carol.
On the 2nd, another candle joined the first one, on the 3rd another, until by the 24th the room blazed with light from candles of all colours, shapes, and sizes. |
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| Making the Christmas Pudding |
[Dec. 1st, 2005|08:48 am] |
On a Sunday, late in November, I begin my first Christmas ritual.
I’ve bought cooking apples, raisins, nutmeg, oranges, lemons, muscovado sugar, vegetable suet, white bread…
I switch on Classic FM, and begin to make a Christmas pudding. First the dry ingredients then the moist. It’s when they’re combined that the smell is released.
Then it goes on to be steamed. Five hours of gentle bubbling noises, of slipping back into the kitchen, being welcomed each time by its warm spicy vapour.
I make mincemeat too. That smells sweeter and sharper. Each year I rediscover how intensely good it tastes. |
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| A message from the author... |
[Dec. 24th, 2004|08:58 am] |
And, with that, I'm done.
I feel as if I've been something like a tour guide to you all over the last month (or however long you've been here). The story and the characters weren't mine; but perhaps I've been able to show you things from a few unusual angles or provoke some interesting thoughts.
So. I hope you've enjoyed the tour. If you have and you'd like to tip the guide with a complimentary comment here, it will be most gratefully received.
Hope to see all of you back here next year.
And, of course...
Happy Christmas! |
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| December 24th: Mary's Tale |
[Dec. 24th, 2004|08:56 am] |
I love Him. For who He is; who He may become. Just as any mother loves her firstborn – this tiny, fragile person, trusting wholly in me, who may yet one day grow up to change the world.
The prophecies are confusing. King and God and Sacrifice. My heart will be broken before it is done; I know that much.
But all that lies far in the future. Right now there is only Him, and me, and the still of a cloudless night. I am just another mother, with a babe at her breast. And I desire nothing more than this. |
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| December 23rd: Joseph's Tale (part III) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2004|09:16 am] |
Egypt. I don't even know what language they speak there.
I'll go of course. Even without Your command. I'll do whatever I have to to keep my family safe.
But permit me, Lord, a moment of regret. There's a half-finished cradle in my workshop which my son will never use. Mary's been longing to get back to her mother, fretting she's doing things wrong.
In Egypt we'll have no friends, no family, precious little money. Is this really how You want Your Son's life to start? You could strike Herod dead tomorrow, if you wanted.
This is faith, isn't it? |
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| December 22nd: Herod's Tale |
[Dec. 22nd, 2004|08:50 am] |
It's always about power.
The Jews know this. Like the powerless everywhere, they cope with their position by telling each other stories of how things will soon change. A king who's coming to save them; who'll overthrow the authorities, set up a new state with his people on top.
They get a charismatic leader, there'll be bloodshed and chaos. Civil war, terrorism, whatever you want to call it, whoever wins, it's never pretty.
Yes, I've ordered the deaths of innocent children. But how many more innocents would've died if I'd allowed this 'messiah' to grow up?
My conscience is clear. |
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| December 21st: The Adoration of the Magi |
[Dec. 21st, 2004|08:05 am] |
Several richly dressed men arrive at a small house after dark. Knock. Enter. Present costly gifts to a baby on his mother's lap; and bow down and worship him.
And then what?
Hard, perhaps, to avoid a moment of awkwardness in that shift from sacred to secular; from kneeling to standing; from offering such precious and symbolic gifts, and intoning "We worship You, Lord of Heaven and Earth" to answering the questions of any kindly hosts "Have you come far? Can we get you anything to eat? Are your animals somewhere comfortable?"
Still, they were wise. I'm sure they managed. |
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| December 20th: The Meeting |
[Dec. 20th, 2004|09:00 am] |
Night falls at an oasis in the desert. The travellers are not surprised to meet.
They speak enough Latin to communicate well enough; and soon fall into the easy discourse of scholars.
A little way off, their men find a cruder comradeship through alcohol and raucous songs. Good-natured forfeits are exacted around a campfire fuelled chiefly by camel dung.
The stars appear one by one in the desert sky. Together, black, brown and white talk and laugh and share food, in the flickering glow of the fire. It's an optimistic night. The age of the Prince of Peace is dawning. |
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