O-Antiphons Project: for the love of metaphor

The Jesse tree is more than halfway full, and another Advent tradition is about to start.

Thus, I have another "project" to share, but it first requires a confession and an explanation.

Confession: this year I'm finally realizing what a bare-bones, minimalist Catholic I've been in the years since my conversion.  One of the paradoxical drawbacks and yet benefits of being a convert is not being familiar with the thousands of yearly traditions that Catholic culture has to offer.  A drawback, because we often miss (through sheer obliviousness) rich practices that could further deepen our faith, but a benefit, too, because once we do stumble upon these practices, we have the benefit of seeing them with fresh eyes, unsullied by years of half-understood, semi-compulsory performance.

Explanation:  One of the things that made me fall so in love with the Church was her richness in metaphor. I've always tended to understand the world and everything in it best through that language; in my mind, seemingly unrelated objects and events take on an increased significance and become knowable through the way in which they reflect each other.  It's a symbiotic thing, going beyond mere simile ("this is like that") to the deeper, metaphorical, "in some way, this is that."  Not surprisingly (for the essence of metaphor is, at heart, a mystery) it's difficult to explain exactly what I mean.  Suffice it to say that, while I can be logical, and do love rational thought (a college friend once dubbed me the most rational girl he knew), logic always stays on the outside of me.  It may speak to my mind, but metaphor (and what is beyond metaphor is what speaks to my soul.  Hence, it wasn't the rational arguments that brought me into the Church (although I knew them, and they paved the way), but the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.  Not a knowledge of Him; simply Him.

I find such metaphorical significances in my daily life, as well.  It's why breastfeeding is so much more than just feeding for me: it echoes (in an admittedly poor and very simplistic way) the Eucharist, giving my flesh to my child (I'm not saying that it always, or even mostly or often, feels that way; metaphors and sacraments don't have to evoke emotion to be).  And I find that the more that I honor and recognize the language wherein God speaks most clearly to my soul, the better my faith life grows.

This winding preamble is my way of explaining why I became so excited to learn about the O-Antiphons this year.  As I said before, I've been a bare-bones Catholic; I've participated in the essence of Catholicism, the Sacraments, etc.  But I've intentionally or unintentionally skipped most of the optional devotions.  Some don't speak to me (like the Infant of Prague), but there are more that I just don't know much about, or haven't had explained to me in such a way that hasn't felt vaguely superstitious (here my suspicious Protestant upbringing betrays itself).

Back to the Antiphons.  My favorite Advent hymn, really one of my favorite hymns period, is O Come O Come Emmanuel.  The haunting melody is part of it, but mostly I love the recitation of the names and prophecies of Jesus: these metaphors that somehow bespeak who he really is resonate very strongly for me.  Come to find out that there are these O-Antiphons along much the same lines (indeed, the hymn was drawn from them?), which pull from Isaiah (I love Isaiah!  Scripture!  Metaphor!), & I'm hooked.  Even better, they seem to offer a way to stay focused during that last hectic week of Advent, when it is so easy to get distracted.  Plus, as a bonus, they're short.  I have an 18 month old; I need spiritual activities that I can "do on the run," as it were.

So (if you've stayed with me through all that introduction!), here's my project: something to keep these Antiphons around in my life for years to come.  I'd intended to just print them out and post them on the fridge (and do so again and again in future years).  But then an idea appeared in my mailbox.  Remember in my Jesse tree post, how I said that you can't decoupage ink-jet printed paper, but magazine pictures work great?  Imagine my joy, then, when I flipped open our monthly issue of Vermont Catholic (our diocese's magazine) & found the O-Antiphons inside!  And not just printed in a decoupage-friendly fashion (in lovely italics; like Emily of New Moon, I love italics), but with accompanying art: beautiful, stylized stained-glass "windows", depicting a theme appropriate to each antiphon.

One rough wooden plaque from Michael's, a couple of industrial-strength magnets, some decoupage glue and several coats later, I present:

The O-Antiphons, ready to post on our fridge on Friday, and to become part of our yearly tradition.  Metaphors, here I come!

In like manner, I'm looking at other traditions I've previously missed.  Like the New Year's marking of the doorway with blessed chalk, and Candlemass in February, where all the candles for the year are blessed.  I'm finally realizing (with my soul, rather than my intellect) that these aren't superstitions, but metaphor, sacramentals: ways that God makes His grace & presence tangible in our lives, and not to our souls only, but to our bodies as well.  After all, isn't that what the Incarnation, which we'll celebrate next week, is all about: Christ being born into our world as a man, and thus hallowing and redeeming our humanity (spirit and flesh) through His blood shed upon the Cross!

The O-Antiphons, to be prayed Dec. 17th - 23rd, can be found here.  Have a blessed fourth week of Advent!