The 'O' Antiphons: Oriens

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The sumup is here.

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O Rising Sun, you are the splendor of eternal light and the sun of justice. O come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.

I don't know what the status of peoples' knowledge of the real roots of Christmas is, but Christ was most likely born in the springtime. Rather than create a Super Triduum that would combine the Jewish Passover, and Christ's birth, life, and death, when the Church came under the auspices of the Roman Empire (or was it vice versa) the holiday was moved to the winter solstice for both economic (it wouldn't interfere with Spring planting) and dimplomatic (converting the pagans) reasons.

Still, I cannot help but think that this is an auspicious change. The causes may or may not be more than coincidence, but even if the timing is out of sync with the literal truth, there's a deeper, symbolic truth to the location of Christmas at the winter solstice. If an image of Christmas is that of Christ being born into a dark world, nothing can better and more naturally represent that fact than celebrating his holiday at the darkest time of the year. Moreover, in the last several centuries, Christmas has been celebrated worldwide with a profusion of light. This probably began with the use of candles as a part of prayer and religious service... more prayers and religious services (and a need for more light in the cold and dark) would have led to more candles. With the use of the advent wreath and Christmas trees, lights became even more profuse, and when electricity made such effects both affordable and safe.

The result today is that we can walk down most city or suburban streets at Christmastime, the darkest time of the year, and find a unique profusion of all kinds of lights.

Yesterday morning, when the transit strike was still on, I walked across the Manhattan Bridge to get to work. The sun had just risen about an hour ago and its glare was sharp and bright, silver and gold, off the East River. Ten hours later, when I walked back to Brooklyn and took a stroll around the Fulton Ferry, the wooden pier was worn down, a dull brown. But I was flanked by Christmas trees and wreathes, and their light was echoed across the river, mirrored far away in the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan, and both sides echoed soft and glimmering, green and blue, off the East River.

This light, light spanning day and night but unique to day and night is one of the irreducable features of Christmas. It may be construed as a symbol of technology or the secularization of a religious holiday, but if a truth can be gotten at, if the world expands, than something worthwhile has been accomplished.

I like my Christmas with light; the light of many "rising suns."

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