When the liturgy counts down 'til Christmas, too

Today is December 21: the Winter Solstice; the shortest day of the year.  Though the sun is out today in Rome, it won't be out for long. I'll likely take a stroll to the Pantheon to look through the oculus to see if the sun does indeed pass through it on the solstice, as we were speculating about a few days ago in class.

This morning's Benedictus antiphon for December 21 struck me. Whilst there are others doing reflections on the various O Antiphons for the Magnificat, I have also been looking at some of the accompanying Benedictus antiphons.

(This is a fragment from the 10th century Hartker Antiphonary [St. Gallen Stifsbibl. 390] 
which contains the earliest extant instance of this chant.)

(This is a modern engraving based on the Solemnes chant books.)

The text is poignant: Nolíte timére: quinta enim die véniet ad vos Dóminus noster.
           (Do not be afraid: for on the fifth day will come to you... Our Lord.)

It's not a biblical text (as most of the texts for the various Gregorian chants usually are biblical in origin). Its rather a simple exhortation by the Church to her people: Do not be afraid. Do not fear.

It is followed by a interesting feature - the chant itself gives a time-frame when the Lord will come: in five days on the fifth day. (Thx to Fr. Llane Briese for the clearer translation!)

So, the countdown clock continues... until the Lord comes to us. But - as I've been reflecting upon for a few weeks now - his coming is also paradoxical. He has already come, and yet he never left us. He says he will come again, and yet he never left us. The Church says that he will come, and yet he never left us.

But perhaps fear has something to do with it. Our human experience can be tinged and fraught with fear. And fear keeps us from seeing things clearly. Our darkened intellect and our weakened will also keeps us from seeing things clearly, too.  Only by divine illumination can our fears be dashed and our sight restored.

So, hear the voice of the Church: Do not be afraid. Five days more. And we wait a little while longer for... Our Lord.

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Update:
I did visit the Pantheon at noon today, the winter solstice. Notice the picture below. The ancients built the Pantheon in such a way to allow the sun's light to shine through the oculus above the main entrance at noon on this day. Note also that the sun's light completely envelops the 2nd-to-last "square". (My way of describing this is that the sun is "quadrasected" (intersected in 4-places) by the roof's niche.) As they were tracking the course of the sun through the year, the ancients clearly knew that after the solstice the days would get longer, and that the light would increase.

The Christian community in Rome was also aware of these celestial calendar events. Indeed, one could speculate that a number of Christians in Rome knew that the sunlight would be in a particular place on the solstice.  The Christian celebration of Christmas originated here in Rome - quite early, too. Christmas was celebrated on 25 December, which also happened to correspond to the old dating of the winter solstice. (The solar calendar changed in 325 AD, so the solstice was shifted by a few days, but the Christians still celebrate Christmas on the 25 December.)

Which brings it back to the theme of light. Even in the darkness of our fears and the darkness of our sinfulness, the Sun of Justice (O Oriens!) will come and bring healing, restoration, and forgiveness. May these last few days of Advent be a graced period of preparation as we allow the light of the Messiah to warm the embers of our hearts. Let the Lord enter, he is the King of Glory!