The O Antiphons as Parenting Advice: A Mini-Retreat
I felt the words stir in my heart as I sat down to prayer on
a quiet, drizzly Saturday morning in early Advent. My husband and toddler were
out on their weekly daddy-daughter Mass and breakfast date. I held a steaming
cup of tea in my enormous yellow mug. Gentle instrumental worship music was
playing through the speaker. The rain drummed steadily on the roof, and the gloom
made me draw a blanket close, even though it wasn’t all that cold.
Slow down and look up.
I looked up, and saw a string of Christmas decorations that
I had hung the previous day: seven gold-painted circles, illustrated on one
side and bearing various Latin phrases on the back. My garland of “O Antiphons”,
which I painted four or five years ago in preparation for Callum’s and my
future home.
O Sapienta (Wisdom)
O Adonai (Lord)
O Radix Jesse (Root of Jesse)
O Clavis David (Key of David)
O Oriens (Dayspring/Dawn)
O Rex Gentium (King of the Nations)
O Emmanuel (God-with-Us)
For those unfamiliar with the “O Antiphons”, these seven
titles of the Messiah are taken from the first words of the Magnificat antiphon for Evening Prayer from December 17th to 23rd, the final week leading up to Christmas. Each is a plea: come
quickly! We need you! Come to us and save us.
Many people might recognise these different antiphons from
their familiar adaptation in the verses of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”. As I
looked at these seven Messianic identities of Christ, I felt familiar phrases
from this ancient hymn come to the surface of my heart: “rejoice! rejoice!” “to
us Thy path of knowledge show, and teach us in Thy ways to go”; “in ancient
times did give the law”; “free Thy people from tyranny”; “open wide our
heavenly home”; “come and cheer… disperse the clouds of night”.
“Come, Jesus,” I prayed, “as wisdom and as lawgiver,
as the closeness of the Christ-child and ruler of the earth and light on the
Eastern horizon in our darkest nights. Come, open the Kingdom, and in your
justice free us from all oppression. Come quickly, Lord!”
“Learn from what you encounter here,” I felt the Lord say
quietly in my heart, “And begin to replicate it in your own home and sphere of
influence. For these are your identities too.”
And as I pondered it, I began to realise it was true. In my
parenthood—not only as mother of the daughter I now get to hold in my arms, but
of all our future children, and of the people in my life I have the privilege
of being a spiritual mother to—I am called to “come”, to show up for them in
the ways that God shows up for me.
As parent I too am the wisdom-bearer and lawgiver, a
nurturer of close intimacy, and governor of my children’s domain, and light in
their darkness, the key to understanding heavenly mysteries, and justice that
brings freedom in their walk here on earth. Like God does for His people, I
provide for them in their vulnerability and so give them the chance to thrive.
Ponder these things deeply and learn from Me in my ways.
Slow down and look up.
~~~
I’ve found the transition from my daughter’s babyhood to
toddlerhood something of a wakeup call to all the ways in which I’m not yet an
adult. Parenting an infant is (in many ways) easy: keep them alive and show
them love. Parenting a toddler now demands that I understand my boundaries and my
style of discipline, demands that I mature and respond intentionally rather
than reactively. My husband and I are the chief persons in charge of shaping
our sweet girl’s character and moral compass, her understanding of the world
around her and ability to engage with that world thoughtfully, kindly, and
wisely. It’s a big responsibility.
And so I’ve been doing what I usually do when I’m in a new
and demanding season: I’m researching. I’m reading the parenting books, and
asking advice of the friends who are in a season ahead of my own. I’m taking
note of the Instagram reels that seem sage in their advice, and learning
through trial-and-error what actually works on the unique small human I spend
my days with.
Every day, hundreds of times, she cries out “Mama, mummy!”
in delight and distress and everything in between. She needs me to “come”, to
show up for her, to guide her from her littleness into thriving maturity.
I find myself craving not only practical tips, but role
models and ideals to look to. I want to “slow down and look up” beyond the
trenches of early motherhood, and discern what it is I am actually aspiring to
become as a parent and to transmit to my child.
And that’s where the Lord brought the O Antiphons to my
attention as parenting advice. Because God is father and mother. God is the One
who models how to bring someone we love from littleness into maturity – because
that is what He is doing every single day of our lives. If He is a “good, good
Father”, His is the model for engaging with my child that I need most.
So as I walk towards Christmas this year, I want to learn
from these Messianic titles of Christ. I want to learn to imitate God’s parenthood
– but I have to start by more deeply receiving God as the source of love
and guidance. I cannot be the source of any attribute I aspire to in parenting
my child. These attributes flow from Him alone, and it is through my openness
to His love and His word each day that I can begin to emulate His qualities as
a parent.
I want to offer the below as a mini-retreat for parents in the final week leading up to Christmas (or for whenever, really). The O Antiphons are speaking to me in my season of parenthood right now, and I pray the reflections below can help others on their own journey.
December 17: O Sapienta
“O Wisdom, you come forth from the mouth of the Most
High. You fill the universe and hold all things together in a strong yet gentle
manner. O come to teach us the way of truth.”
To my daughter I am a source of wisdom. I teach her
truths about the world every single day, truths that I have learned from others
and from my own experiences. And these truths “hold all things together” for
her. They give meaning to her reality, and help her make sense of new
sensations. She is such a sponge, learning new words and concepts every day. As
her teacher I can impart wisdom “in a strong yet gentle manner”, sharing about
the beauty of creation in nature, sharing books with her, sharing in the
delight of play that leads to understanding.
I’ve just finished Sally Clarkson’s book Awaking Wonder.
She spends the early chapters of this book about education reflecting on the
heart of the parent as mentor. It is the parent’s faith that will enkindle
faith in their child. It is the parent’s delight and wonder at beauty that will
lead children to appreciate creation, music, art, literature. It is the
parent’s deep immersion in wisdom that will communicate itself through a life
of virtue and service in a way children can emulate.
Because ultimately wisdom about the world does not come from us, but “comes forth from the mouth of the Most High [who] fills the universe and holds all things together”. To be a good parent and teacher to my daughter is to allow myself to be parented and taught by One who is infinitely wiser than me. I too need to be a sponge, opening my heart to new concepts every day, and allowing the Holy Spirit to help me make sense of my reality.
Reflection questions:
- What knowledge and wisdom about the world do I believe is worth imparting to my child? What is my framework for helping them understand truth and make sense of their reality?
- How am I engaging my own desire to learn and grow in wisdom? Do I make space for prayer, for awe and wonder at beauty, for understanding new ideas?
December 18: O Adonai
“O Lord and leader of Israel, you appeared to Moses in a burning bush,
and you gave him the Law on Sinai. O come and save us with your mighty power.”
To my daughter I am a leader and lawgiver. The
rules and boundaries that my husband and I decide on order and structure her
world. When we say yes or no to something, we are exerting our own “mighty
power”, acting as “lord” over her.
And this is an area of parenting that is rife with
possibilities for error. If we fail to set any boundaries, there are both
immediate (dangerous) short-term consequences, and invisible
(character-compromising) long-term consequences. But if we set boundaries in a
way that is arbitrary, totalitarian, or totally incomprehensible to our child,
we are not using our mighty power to “appear” to her or “save” her, but simply
to control her.
I’ve been reading a lot about connect-and-redirect
approaches to discipline (see No Drama Discipline by Daniel J Siegel and
Tina Payne Bryson), and I think there’s a lot of truth in this style of
parenting. I daily experience it in how the Lord speaks to me in prayer: He
meets me in tenderness and addresses my feelings, my valid desires, my goals –
and then gently prompts my heart in a better direction than the one it had
chosen for itself. Both are necessary: to connect and to redirect.
God’s leadership and lawgiving in our lives is not something done in violence
and the abuse of power, but with the desire to engage us at the core of our
heart. He gets down to eye level, and shows us affection. And only then does He
dialogue with us about how our incorrect actions can lead to short-term danger
and to long-term character issues. He holds us as who we are now, and leads us
to who we are able to become.
To lead and to “give the law” well, I first need to be open to being led and disciplined by the Lord of my life. In my life, too, there are boundaries: the constraints of where I live and my personal history and the hours in a day; the moral code which I am called to abide by; the ways in which the Holy Spirit whispers “yes” and “no” (and “not yet”) to my desires and decisions
Reflection questions
- What does my own role as leader and lawgiver in my home look like? What is my framework for a discipline that both connects with my child in who they are now, and redirects them towards better modes of engaging with the world?
- How do I feel about the boundaries that operate in my own life? Am I petulant and resentful of the rules? Do I try to control everything, and wind up exhausted by futility? Are there ways I can be more open to the Lord connecting with me and redirecting me in the ways I am not yet living a life of moral goodness?
December 19: O Radix Jesse
“O root of Jesse, you stand as a signal for the nations. Kings fall
silent before you whom the peoples acclaim. O come to deliver us, and do not
delay.”
To my daughter I am a deliverer and a sign of
justice. The world is not a fair place for an infant: they have no
resources by which to survive or defend themselves. Without helpful intervention,
they will die. As a mother and literal source of nourishment, I am my child’s
first symbol that she can be delivered from the tyranny of “survival of the
fittest” and given the resources to thrive. By “not delaying” to come to her in
her hour of need, when she is oppressed by the injustice of her vulnerability,
I become the foundation of her freedom.
While I think that this is in many ways the easiest
parenting mandate to understand for our young babies (we owe them the justice
that keeps them alive in a world that would otherwise destroy them), I think it
is probably the one that becomes more complex over time. What is appropriate to
“deliver” our children from, and what trials will help mature their character? Do
we swoop in to save them from every difficulty and injustice, or do we allow
them to become stronger and more independent in the face of challenges? This is
a quality of parenthood that requires ongoing discernment.
And I know that it is one that God navigates with regards to me, and to each of us. What challenges am I ready for? What trials and sufferings are necessary for me to grow in maturity and love for the world? When should I be “delivered” – from evil, from temptation, from sorrow, from injustice – and when do I need to experience it in order to become an advocate for others? Christ as Messiah is the sign of ultimate justice, but contrary to what his followers assumed, that didn’t mean He wiped out all earthly struggle. Rather, His justice is eternal. He does not delay to come to our aid and give us true freedom by His everlasting love.
Reflection questions:
- How do I navigate the balance between protecting my child from injustice and giving them the opportunity to grow in response to challenges? At this age and stage of my child’s life, what are the areas where I feel a need to discern the balance of “delivering” them and helping them gain new maturity?
- What are the trials, temptations, and sorrows that I have experienced in recent times in my life? Am I able to journey more closely with God in prayer to understand His deep love for me alongside His decision that I should be exposed to these things in order to grow in maturity?
December 20: O Clavis David
“O key of David and sceptre of Israel, what you open no one else can
close again. What you close, no one can open. O come and lead the captive from
prison. Free those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.”
To my daughter I am someone who can unlock the mysteries
of heaven. My husband and I are the first exposure she will have to people
who believe in God and live out that faith through religious practices and a
life of (attempting to) love others. What we open in her mind and heart – a knowledge
of her belovedness in God’s eyes – “no one can close”. What we close – the ways
we turn her against faith by our hypocrisies or unkindness or lack of
genuineness in what we profess – “no one can open”.
I guess that’s stating it a bit too strongly. God’s grace is
so much bigger than good or bad parenting. If we fail to share with her a faith
that is attractive, warm, genuine, and lifegiving, I pray that someone else
will. And if we do everything we can to unlock the mysteries of heaven for her,
someone may still shut that door. She herself may choose to shut that door. The
point is less one of trying to determine our children’s creed for the rest of
their lives, and more about providing them with a foundation in faith that
gives them a reason for lifelong curiosity about the Lord. I want to open
the gates of spirituality and freedom in Christ for my child, because I believe
from my own lived experience that He is victor over “darkness”, “death” and every
kind of “captivity”.
The metaphor of a “key” is one I want to pray with more
deeply. In colloquial usage, the word “key” has a kind of combined meaning: a
key that opens a door, a key on a computer typing board that assists in
communication, a key or legend on a map that provides necessary information for
comprehending what we see. I think these are all resonant analogies for how a
faith in heaven operates in our lives, and I especially like the last one.
For parents who have a faith and take part in a religious tradition, the question of handing down belief to our children can be an anxiety-inducing one. On one end of the spectrum, we want to respect our child’s individual personhood, and we know that we can’t make this decision for them. On the other end of the spectrum, we want to share the things that sustain us and bring us joy – and for my husband and I, our faith is chief among those things. How can we live our faith so contagiously that our children want to be swept up in the love, mystery, and mercy it points towards?
Reflection questions:
- What does it look like to unlock the mysteries of heaven to my children and others in my life? How can I provide a foundation in faith that gives them a reason for lifelong curiosity about God?
- Who was it that opened the way for religious belief in my life? Do I remember what this looked and felt like? Have I encountered people who in some measure “closed” the mysteries of heaven to me by their cruelty or hypocrisy? What is the Lord saying to me about these things?
December 21: O Oriens
“O Rising Sun, you are the splendour of eternal light and the sun of
justice. O come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of
death.”
To my daughter I am a bringer of joy and light in
the darkness. I am the relief of a familiar smile, the one who kisses her
wounds, the one who comes up with a game to play or a book to read that will
brighten the long afternoon. To my seventeen-month-old, I am indeed “splendid”,
a source of brightness, and somebody who can “enlighten” her when she feels like
she’s in “the shadow of death” (e.g. when there’s no strawberries left). I am –
or try to be – fun. Delight. A sense that life is full of light and loveliness.
This is something I have to keep reminding myself of on the days
where parenting feels like an endless series of chores and responsibilities: fun
is important too. Not just manufacturing fun for my toddler, but genuinely having
fun myself. Playing. Delighting. Rejoicing in all the areas of light in my life,
and drawing her into that joy.
Advent has made that a little easier. I take such a childish
delight in putting up Christmas decorations, turning on favourite renditions of
carols, baking themed treats for different feast days. It’s a genuine joy to
see my daughter’s face light up for the same things make my face light up. It
is wonderful to have fun together, to tickle and laugh and spin until we’re
dizzy. It brings light to my darkness as well as hers when we enjoy a
splendid treat or activity together.
At a spiritual level I think sometimes we don’t believe that God wants to have fun with us. Sometimes we don’t believe God wants us to have fun at all. We perceive life in Christ as something that’s a bit of a slog, an endless series of chores and responsibilities. But He is our Rising Sun, the splendour of eternal light, the one who brings joy to our dark places and invites us to join Him in delight. He is the one who created the music, the art, the poetry, the jawdropping scenery. He is the one that made our bodies feel good when moving quickly and freely. And God has a sense of humour, too! It's worth considering whether the things we find most fun might actually be the things He finds fun too.
Reflection questions:
- How can I have more fun as a parent? Do I believe my enjoyment of the day is important? What could I do this week to live more fully in the light of delight?
- How can I have more fun with God? What are the things that make my heart come alive, and can I bring those into my relationship with the Lord? How can I loosen up a little and let the light flood my darkness?
December 22: O Rex Gentium
O King, whom all the peoples desire, you are the cornerstone which
makes all one. O come and save man, whom you made from clay.
To our daughter, my husband and I are governors and
together form the rock that provides a solid foundation for her life. Through
the secure base of our union, we structure our home towards her (and our) flourishing.
We act as “king” and “queen” of our little domain, ensuring there is food,
shelter, warmth, cleanliness, infrastructure. We oversee a million tiny details
that our toddler, of course, doesn’t notice. But she does notice that “home”
meets her needs and fills her with peace. She does notice that mummy and daddy
love each other.
To be a cornerstone is to have a structure reliant upon you.
In a building, the cornerstone is at the base where two walls meet, and it’s often
the first stone laid. It bears a great load from the rest of the structure, and
so it needs to be strong and sure. Our marriage is the cornerstone of our home
and family life. Callum’s and my relationship was the first stone laid in the
structure of family we are building together, and it bears a great load. So it’s
imperative that we continue to look after our marriage, nurture the love between us, and make sure our relationship is a strong and
dependable foundation upon which our children can build their early lives. Our
daughter needs to know that Home is a place that is governed well, and also
that it has Love as its foundation.
At a broader scale, this is true for each of us in our
relationship with our common home (the Earth) and the whole universe. We want
to feel a sense of security that the cosmos is ordered towards our flourishing.
We can feel anxious and paralysed when we hear about turmoil and war, famine and
natural disasters, climate change and the death of galaxies. It’s tempting to
think that chaos, rather than Love, is reigning in the universe.
And this is where we must return to an understanding of Christ as the cornerstone that holds the hold structure together. He is King of the universe, and oversees a million tiny details that escape our notice. What we can notice, though, is the ways in which He meets our needs and fills us with peace. We can notice the Love of the Trinity which overflows into every heart. Love bears the load and orders the chaos.
When we govern and order the minutiae of our household for the sake of our children, putting the partnership we have chosen as the cornerstone of that Home, we are emulating something much bigger. The Holy Trinity is a relationship of love upon which the whole universe is founded. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit order all things and hold them in being – minute details we may never notice or care about, but which God attends to out of love for our Home.
- What does my relationship with my spouse and with our Home look like? Do I experience the “ordering” and “governing” of a household as a burden? How is my marriage acting as a foundation for my child’s flourishing? In what ways can I be more attentive to the love upon which my family life is built?
- Do I have an awareness of Christ as King of the Universe and the cornerstone that holds all things together? Can I see His saving power at work in the earth, even in those things that cause me distress and fear? How can I more deeply believe that Love rather than chaos is the force that governs all creation?
December 23: O Immanuel
O Immanuel, you are the king and our judge, the One who the peoples
await and their Saviour. O come and save us, Lord our God.
To my daughter I am God-with-Us, the closeness and intimacy
of Love’s presence in her life. She believes I will come to her and save
her – when she falls over while running, when she wakes with sore gums in the
middle of the night, when she’s on the other side of the baby gate and
frustrated she can’t get to me. She desires my closeness.
What a profound witness. Do I desire God the way my child
desires me? Do I trust that God will come to me and save me the way my child
trusts me? And do I believe that God wants to be close to me FAR, FAR MORE
than I always want to be close to my toddler?!
In our house we’re going through some developmentally predictable separation
anxiety at the moment, and I have felt the fatigue of being needed
so many times in the last week. I love that my daughter loves me and wants me…
but sometimes I want her to want me a little less. I want to be able to go to the kitchen
without a tearful cry of “Mummyyyyyy” following me a moment later. I want to be
able to hand over to our babysitter without a complete meltdown. Rather than
desiring to always be intimately present and close as a parent, sometimes I
just want to hide in the bathroom.
(I think that’s just parenthood, right?)
But the thing is, God doesn’t get sick of showing up for us.
He doesn’t get tired of coming to us and saving us. He doesn’t feel the fatigue
of being needed, of our insatiable desire for closeness and love. His resources
are infinite, and his presence is eternal. He is a far, far better Immanuel
than we could ever or should ever be.
We need to hear that in our parenting. We need to know that we are not the ultimate source of closeness and comfort. If we try to be, we will burn out. Rather there is a source of closeness and comfort that we too can draw upon. God-with-us doesn’t just show up for toddlers, but for mums and dads too. We are waiting for Him, longing for Him, desiring His close presence with us even more than our little ones want us to be close to us.
- What am I waiting for, hoping for, longing for this Christmas? What is the comfort or closeness that I need most right now? At the end of days filled with showing up for others, can I let God show up for me? How?
~~~~~
Bonus reflection question:
- Which messianic title of Christ in the "O Antiphons" is standing out to me this Advent? Which area of my identity as a parent feels most difficult or vulnerable? Where do I need Him to "come"?
Friends, I'm praying for you as we prepare our hearts to welcome the Lord again this Christmas. Whatever your season of parenthood looks like right now, I hope that this mini-retreat can bear fruit in your heart as you let the Lord be a "good, good Father" to you.
Kate
AMDG
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