by Sheryl Anderson.
The Times newspaper currently runs a series called News in Pictures. On Wednesday 27th November 2024 it included a wonderful photograph[2] of the sunrise through the limestone arch of Durdle Door in Dorset. This iconic photographic shot is known as “through the keyhole” and, because of the angle of the sun, it is only possible to capture it on clear cloudless mornings between November and January. For me this picture was very timely as I was leading a pre-Advent ministerial retreat reflecting on the Advent Antiphons.
The Advent Antiphons are a series of poems in Latin believed to have originated in Italy in or before the sixth century. In the Roman and Anglican Church they are sung at Vespers before and after the Magnificat between the 17th and 23rd December so there are 7 antiphons in total and each antiphon is based on a different title for Jesus taken from the Old Testament — titles like Emmanuel, Key of David, Dayspring, and Wisdom. Methodists come closest to them when we sing the hymn “O come, O come, Emmanuel.” This hymn gathers together these titles giving voice to the Israelites’ longing for the Messiah, as well as our own longing for Jesus to come — both at Christmas and into our own lives.
On Wednesday 27th November we were reflecting on the fifth antiphon, O Oriens, often translated as ‘O Morning Star’ or ‘Dayspring’. In Luke 1:78 we read: “Because of the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us,”[3] This is a translation of the Greek word ἀνατολὴ [anatolé] which primarily refers to the act of rising, particularly in the context of celestial bodies like the sun. It is often used metaphorically to denote the east, (hence ‘the Orient’) as the direction of the sunrise or the dawn, symbolizing new beginnings or hope. But where does the notion of ‘Dayspring’ come from? What is ‘Dayspring’?
The poet Malcolm Guite has written a series of sonnets reflecting on the antiphons. In his book “Waiting on the Word”[4] Guite points out that the traditional poetical metaphor is to compare the span of our lives to the passage of the sun: the dawn equivalent to our birth and our old age the ‘sunset years’. However he suggests that although this may be chronologically accurate, spiritually the reverse is the case. Our lives begin in spiritual darkness, with our backs to God. In classical church architecture the font is traditionally placed by the door, which faces west. The symbolism is that we are baptised into Christ’s death and subsequently move eastwards, turning towards that rising, that beginning; turning towards God.
Guite explains that one of his sources for this notion is C S Lewis’s book “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader”. In classical literature there is an idea that at the end of life the ‘heroes’ undertake a magical journey to the blessed isles which are always located in the west. Lewis turns this on its head by suggesting the Dawn Treader journeys eastwards, towards sunrise.
For me, this is the best image I have for my understanding of growing older in life and in faith. In my own experience, and apparently in the experience of many of my contemporaries, my faith has become richer, more sophisticated, more wonder-ful, as I have got older. The longer I contemplate God and what God is like, the more I perceive that God is both more complex and simpler than I can describe. This image has also given me a creative, positive way to think about the inevitable prospect of my own death. If the Christian life is about transformation then a way of thinking about that is as a journey of continually turning around toward the source of light and life that is always flowing towards us. Thus Paul writes to the Romans, ‘Our salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed’[5] and to the Corinthians, ‘Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day’[6].
It is no coincidence that the fifth antiphon, O Oriens, is sung on the 21st December, the winter solstice, the shortest, darkest day of the year.
O Morning Star,[7]
splendour of light eternal [8] and sun of righteousness:[9]
Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.[10]
If you look at the picture of the sunlight streaming through Durdle Door you will notice in the foreground the reflection of the rising sun creating a path of light coming towards you across the water. This is the ‘Dayspring;’ a pattern of light on water that is warm, welcoming, life-giving; showing us the way home.
[1] Wesley, Charles, Christ whose glory fills the skies, no 134 in Singing the Faith
[2] https://www.thetimes.com/article/5ebb23c2-284e-44e8-b79f-a50c95eb5186?shareToken=349197b2dc77d0748e3d4313b3eeea81
[3] NRSV updated edition
[4] Guite, Malcolm, Waiting on the Word, Canterbury Press, 2015. pp79-82
[5] Romans 13:11
[7] 2 Corinthians 4:16
[7] “the dawn from on high” (Lk 1:78)
[8] [Wisdom] is the brightness of eternal light” (Wisdom 7:26, Douay-Rheims, following the Vulgate)
[9] “the sun of righteousness shall rise” (Mal 4:2 (Hebrew 3:20))
[10] “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (Luke 1:79)
thank you so much for this Sheryl. I love the ‘flipping on its head-ness’ of this, a we age we head towards dawn, and maybe we begin to experience. Very helpful.
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I recommend Richard Rohr’s book, “Falling Upwards”, which is an excellent treatment of how faith develops as we grow older.
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