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O Antiphons: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!

The traditional Advent hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” which many are familiar with, is a paraphrase of the lesser-known O Antiphons written by Benedictine monks in the Middle Ages. One of the oldest liturgical rituals in the Church, the O Antiphons have been sung since at least the 8th century. These short prayers, starting with O followed by a title given to the Messiah from Old Testament prophecies, are sung before the Magnificat during Evening Prayer from December 17–23, the last seven days before Christmas. Each antiphon describes God in terms of Old Testament traits and images.

Images and symbols that appear in dreams, art, literature, or scripture carry both personal and universal meaning. Serving as a bridge between the unconscious and the conscious, images can nourish our spirit. “Images open windows through which we can see realities formerly hidden from us. Images want to infuse themselves into us and to change us from the inside out, ” writes Anselm Grün.

Images are an essential part of rituals, prayer, self-reflection, and creativity. When practicing SoulCollage®, one of my favorite spiritual practices, images can guide us to a new level of awareness and reveal a deeper understanding of thought and feeling. Perhaps this is what attracts me to the tradition of praying the O Antiphons.


“Reflecting on the words and images prepares us to let Christ himself enter into us…We are all an image, an icon, of God. It is our task to become ever more like this unique image of God.”

Anselm Grün, A Time of Fulfillment: Spiritual Reflections for Advent and Christmas

The O Antiphons use images to help us envision the Christ we long for, and to draw us into a more profound connection to the God of history. “In the O-Antiphons the art of interpreting Old Testament text as images for the coming of Jesus Christ into the world becomes apparent.” (Anselm Grün) The repeated word “Come!” expresses our deepest longing for Christ. When we accept that we are not God, we yearn for fulfillment, for all that a Messiah can bring, not just in the hereafter but in the here and now. We long for wisdom, freedom, hope, peace, belonging, light, healing, salvation, dignity, protection, love, and accompaniment. Each of these longings is addressed in the O Antiphons.

For an extensive examination of our longings and the use of images in praying the O Antiphons, I highly recommend A Time of Fulfillment by Anselm Grün, a Benedictine monk from Münsterschwarzach Abbey, the motherhouse of the monastery of which I am an oblate.

Feel free to download and share any of the images in this reflection, or follow Being Benedictine on Facebook to share daily posts. Join the monks of St. John’s Abbey for each of the O Antiphons as Benedictine monks have done for 1300 years.

St. John’s Abbey sings O Antiphons: Holy Wisdom—

December 17th – O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
December 18th – O Adonai (O Lord)
Continue reading “O Antiphons: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!” →
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Naming the Darkness Within: An Advent Reflection

December 2025 Oblate Reflections

Presentation Leader: Fr. Jim Secora – Advent “He is Coming”

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” (Isaiah 9:2)

We seek the light. In total darkness, our eyes can see a single point of light up to 5 miles away. This is the lesson of Advent, shared by Fr. Jim Secora, a retired priest and Benedictine oblate. We must accept the darkness, become comfortable with it, and not run from it. We must confront the darkness in the world and from within.

We live in a generation of darkness, as many generations before us have. There is much suffering—with refugees, immigrants, those lacking good health care, those who cannot afford necessities, who are sick, or have personal suffering. Advent calls us to confront the darkness. We cannot appreciate the light around us until we do.

Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, is a reminder of the joy we have and of the joy to come. The light of Christ is here and is coming—both are true. Miracles happen every day when we pay attention.

The fear of uncertainty, the unknown, leads to personal darkness. Even Jesus felt it. And he faced it head-on. We must practice trusting, letting go, and sitting in discomfort. If we don’t have an opportunity to see the need for light in our lives, why do we need Christmas? Fr. Jim suggests.

In small groups, we shared our personal experiences in response to the following questions—

1. Name the experiences of darkness that you find in the world, the church, the lives of people, and if only if you are comfortable, any area of darkness that you have or are experiencing. Where or when have you experienced light piercing the darkness?

2. The people of Israel sought out John because he offered them a vision of salvation. Where in the life of the world do you see the need for a savior? Where in my life, do I need to experience a rebirth of Jesus and his gift of salvation?

3. What is the star you are following now? And where is that star in its present radiance in your life leading you?

Much of our personal darkness comes from a feeling of helplessness. We want our discomfort relieved, our problems fixed. We live in a cloud of doubt and uncertainty, where we can’t “fix it” and no one else can “fix it” for us either. We forget that often the fear of the unknown may be worse than the reality that may be to come. But this presents the question: What do we trust in?

During my greatest fear, waiting for a life-changing health diagnosis, I experienced this desperation. And the only answer, the only peace is to trust in the breath of the Divine. Taking one deep breath at a time, I was more aware of the connection to the greater Source of peace. The breath prayer is the start of a surrendering practice, a continual turning it over to God, a reminder that we cannot assume to know how things will turn out or that we know what is best. This spiritual practice is impossible without humility.

“We have made ourselves the love of our lives and found little to adore at the altar of our egos. We have made ourselves our own gods and have forgotten God in the process…Joy, the deep-down awareness of what it means to live well, to live productively, to live righteously, is made out of self-giving, simplicity, and other-centeredness…Joy is not about what happens to us, the manger indicates. It is the meaning we give to what we do that determines the nature, the quality of the lives we live.”

-Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year

It takes humility to surrender our “me” to “we.” We need a redemption of me. The stars we can follow are trust, acceptance, joy, and peace. Practicing gratitude for the present moment, finding peace, joy, and strength in whatever situation we are in, not wishing that we were somewhere else. Our star is directly above our present moment.

More reflections on Advent.

The Light Shines in the Darkness

Holy Darkness: An Advent Meditation

You Are A Sanctuary for the Divine ~ Sprigs of Rosemary Online Advent Retreat

An Advent Call of Humility: Mary and Zechariah

Flood the World with Love: An Antidote to Darkness

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

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Our Lady of Guadalupe, Our Sacred Mother

Mary, the quintessential mother, emerges in many of my collage creations. On the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, December 12, I am reminded how Mother Mary appears in many forms across religions and cultures. She brings visions and messages uniquely tailored to those who receive them, like Juan Diego.

On the site of an ancient shrine to the Aztec mother goddess, on Tepeyac Hill near Mexico City, a young Nahuatl Indian named Juan Diego had a vision of a young Indian woman. Speaking in his native tongue, she directed him to take roses to the bishop and tell him to build a church on the hill. The bishop dismissed the story, but the young maiden appeared to Diego once more, identifying herself as the Mother of God. She instructed him to gather roses that grew at her feet, during the winter no less, and take them to the bishop. When Diego opened his coat, roses tumbled out and a colorful impression of Our Lady, with dark skin, was imprinted on the fabric.

“My dearest son, I am the eternal Virgin Mary, Mother of the true God, Author of Life, Creator of all and Lord of the Heavens and of the Earth.”

Our Lady of Guadalupe to St. Juan Diego on Mount Tepayac, 1531

This story has been told for five hundred years, standing as an “image of divine compassion for a demoralized people. Speaking to Juan Diego in his own language, (Mary) presented herself in terms of compassion and solidarity, not power and domination.” (Blessed Among Us, December 12, 2020) The image of Our Lady attracts millions of pilgrims each year at the basilica in Mexico City, one of the world’s most visited sacred sites.

One of the Mary cards I created during a Full Moon retreat with anam caras, women friends on the spiritual journey, features Our Lady of Guadalupe and her role in the life of all women, particularly those who are marginalized and suffering. In the upper left corner is an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, framed by roses that bloomed out of season.  Our Lady watches over us—Mother of the Universe, outside time and space. Whether you call her Tonantzin, “Sacred Mother” in Nahuatl, the language of Juan Diego, or Holy Mother, Mother Mary, the Mother of God, or the Virgin Mary, she offers a divine motherly love and protection available to all. Mary empowers women to give that same love and compassion to others.

Continue reading “Our Lady of Guadalupe, Our Sacred Mother” →
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Gratitude or Grumbling: A Thanksgiving Choice

November 2025 Oblate Reflections

“Do not grumble or think ill of others.” (Rule of St. Benedict Ch. 4:39)

What is the key to practicing gratitude rather than grumbling? How can we live a grateful life in the midst of pain and suffering, our own, that of others, and that of the world around us? Is it possible to be thankful for challenging experiences?

We use the Rule of St. Benedict and Scripture to address these questions at our November oblate meeting. We opened our meeting with the Welcome Prayer written by Fr. Thomas Keating).

If we truly practice this prayer to welcome all of the above, we find that the benefit of grumbling is minimal. In fact, grumbling is self-sabotage. The benefit of welcoming everything is that through the moments of distress, unease, discomfort, or suffering, we learn that another way could be a blessing. What can be difficult about the Welcome Prayer is the “letting go” of our control—and oh my, how much we prefer when things go our way.

St. Benedict has a few things to say about grumbling, a form of letting go of our own gripes, opinions, and negativity for the greater good of the community and ultimately our own selves. He encourages his monks to cultivate humility, patience, and a joyful acceptance of their station in life. It requires a surrender of pride to be content even when it is challenging to be.

We read the following excerpts and practice Lectio Divina as a group, sharing the insights we gained.

Continue reading “Gratitude or Grumbling: A Thanksgiving Choice” →
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His Heart Was Moved

September 2025 Oblate Reflections

“In a delightful letter on the contemplative life called The Ladder of Monks, Guigo II (a 12th-century Carthusian monk) divides the experience of Lectio into four phases or degrees: reading, meditation, prayer, contemplation. Reading, he says, puts food whole into the mouth. Meditation chews it, digs for treasure. Prayer extracts the flavor and helps us to get to know the treasure. Contemplation embraces and welcomes the thirsty soul.” (A Tree Full of Angels: Seeing the Holy in the Ordinary, Macrina Weiderkehr)

Lectio Divina: Matthew 9:1-13; 35-36

He entered a boat, made the crossing, and came into his own town. And there people brought to him a paralytic lying on a stretcher. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven.” At that, some of the scribes said to themselves, “This  man is blaspheming.” Jesus knew what they were thinking, and said, “Why do you harbor evil thoughts? Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic, “Rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home.” He rose and went home. When the crowds saw this they were struck with awe and glorified God who had given such authority to human beings.

As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. While he was at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners came and sat with Jesus and his disciples. The Pharisees saw this and said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”

He heard this and said, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn the meaning of the words, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” Jesus went around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and curing every disease and illness. At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.

In our oblate group, we read, reflect, respond, and rest in sacred scripture. There is a synergy that results from sharing a word or phrase that resonates within, as well as the wisdom or insight each has received. I leave with a greater understanding of other perspectives and of how I am called to follow Christ.

Some reflections from our reading:

Courage, child, your sins are forgiven…Rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home. Jesus’ first instruction is to have courage and to know that sins are forgiven. Many aspects in our life require our courage—difficult conversations, facing our own limitations, expressing love, making or adapting to changes, dealing with physical or emotional suffering, feeling despair, and understanding our next steps in each season of life, to name a few. Life requires courage. Some questions we might consider in taking Jesus’ advice: What is our stretcher or our crutch? Where might we be trapped or paralyzed? We are not to harbor evil thoughts about others or ourselves, knowing that nothing can separate anyone from the love of God. Jesus asks us to rise—right where we are, no matter who we are, and go home. Our home is much more than a brick-and-mortar dwelling. Home is a place of peace, where we can be seen and heard, loved and believed, held and yet free. Home accepts all the parts of our self, our truest self.

Home is where you belong. It is your shelter and place of rest, the place where you can be yourself.  –John O’ Donohue, Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong

They were struck with awe and glorified God who had given such authority to human beings. We are to become like Christ. We can rise up, go home, follow, listen, have our hearts moved, give mercy, have courage, doubt, choose, forgive and be forgiven, be filled with awe, mix and mingle with the “tax collectors and sinners” of our day (the poor, oppressed, and marginalized), and be compassionate. In a very short story, Jesus asks much and gives much. He is an example of who we can be to others. The crowds were struck with awe by what Jesus did. We, too, can stand in awe of the kindness of others, a spectacular sunrise, or a day of feeling healthy. In each day, there are countless ways to choose awe and gratitude, glorifying God in all.

I did not come to call the righteous but sinners. Accepting both the righteous and the sinner within ourselves is a sort of homecoming. Accepting with humility that we are not one or the other—saint or sinner—is the way to integration and accepting others. Jesus tells the crowd that he desires mercy. We can be merciful, too, slow to judge ourselves and others.

His heart was moved. This line resonated with me the most. Jesus, in his humanity, felt pity for the “troubled and abandoned.” Beyond our bodies, Jesus sees our inner wounds, our fears and anxieties, our feelings. He sees beyond the physical to our spiritual and emotional needs. This, too, we must ask—who might the troubled and abandoned be today?  We can only know who they are by deep listening, extending hospitality, and having compassion as Jesus did. And then we must ask, how are we responding to them? With judgment or with a moved heart?

More on compassion here.

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

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To Love and Be Loved: The Monk and The Marriage

But now faith, hope, and love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love. –1 Corinthians 13:13

This scripture verse is one of the most frequently read at wedding ceremonies, but it is meant for more than those getting married. We are created to love and be loved—all of us, no matter who we are or our chosen paths in life, whether monk or married.

Our deepest longing is to be loved. Love is the thread that runs through all the world’s religions. In Christianity, the Great Commandment is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind” and to “love your neighbor as yourself.” 

Several years ago, during spiritual direction with Benedictine monk, Fr. Mauritius Wilde, we discussed, despite our different vocations, how much we have in common. We each have a holy longing—to love God, to have a healthy love for ourselves, and to give and receive love. Practically speaking, we are the same age, we are both teachers and retreat leaders, have one brother, have the same middle name (Marie—seriously, what are the odds on that?), we share similar Enneagram personality traits, and each of us professed our marriage or monastic vows 40 years ago, a day apart. I was married on August 17, 1985, and Fr. Mauritius entered the monastery as a novice on August 18, 1985.

After one of many conversations where one of us would say, “That is exactly how it is for me!” or “Me, too!”, I half-seriously, half-jokingly suggested that we write a book about how, setting the whole monk vs. being married thing aside, we experience our love of God and others in many of the same ways. Nearly forgotten, this idea resurfaced a year or so ago, and we decided that leading a retreat together would be a good beginning. Our theme would be love, specifically how the Rule of St. Benedict can help us grow in love and to discover our “inner monk.”

“The monk, a universal archetype of the search for the divine, represents everything in you that leans toward the sacred, all that reaches for what is eternal. The monk represents everything within you that is drawn to seek with unwavering love; to wait for the Holy One with reverential awe; to praise, bow, and adore.” -Christine Valters Paintner

The Rule of St. Benedict shows us the path of love, of nurturing the monk within while living in community. During our retreat, held in July 2025, we shared how the monk’s promises—stability, obedience, and conversion of life—are the foundation for learning and growing in the “school for God’s service.” (RB Prologue 45) For the monk, this place of learning is the monastery. For me, it begins in my family as wife and mother. But each of us is more than our role as a monk or a married person. Each can be transformed by practicing love in our friendships, workplaces, community, and environment.

Continue reading “To Love and Be Loved: The Monk and The Marriage” →
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Lower Your Nets: Do Not Be Afraid

February 2025 Oblate Reflections

Lectio Divina: Luke 5: 1-11

Each of us in our Oblate community comes to a Lectio Divina discussion from our personal experience of the Divine. The beauty of Lectio is that the reading, insights, and discussion fall differently on each of our hearts. When we practice Lectio Divina, we learn from each other by sharing a word or phrase that resonates. We see a deeper meaning to the reading with each contribution as we “listen with the ear of the heart.” (RB Prologue) What resonated with our group:

“The crowd was pressing in…put out a short distance from the shore.” Sometimes what we bear seems so much. Perhaps we could break our feelings, responsibilities, or worries into smaller pieces. Jesus only asks us to go a short distance–taking on only what we need to while trusting that when we go into deeper waters, God will be with us. Even Jesus sat down for a bit to continue his teaching. We learn from his example: our work sometimes requires distance and healthy boundaries from others. We must listen and discern.

“We have worked hard all night.” In times of weariness, feeling overworked, defeated, or unsuccessful, we must carefully listen for the hopeful words of Jesus. The first word in the Rule of St. Benedict is “Listen”—he knew that we cannot go out into deep waters alone. We find encouragement in pausing, resting, and receiving help from others.

Continue reading “Lower Your Nets: Do Not Be Afraid” →
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Love is Stronger, Human One

A Holy Week Gift from Alana Levandoski

Inspired to learn more about Mary Magdalene and especially by Cynthia Bourgeault’s book, The Meaning of Mary Magdalene, Alana Levandoski puts words and music to what she imagined in a journey with Jesus. See Easter through Mary Magdalene’s eye in song. Links below.

“In thanks to the example of Mary Magdalene, we won’t be hiding out somewhere waiting to see what happens. Instead, we can walk with Mary, who never left Jesus, through it all, and go to the very heart of this planet, reconciling all things, and come Sunday, find out that we are more involved in the resurrected presence than we think.”

-Alana Levandoski

I would know those feet

Anywhere

Like you would know mine

Human one

And it breaks my heart

To see them so

Like it would break yours

Human one

I feel helpless

You feel forsaken

But love is stronger

Love is stronger

You said follow

And I will follow

Wherever you’re going

I will go

There go those feet

Descending

And so will my feet

Human one

Into the heart of the world

Reconciling all things

I will hold fast with you

Human one

And all the hell that ever was

Has nothing on us

‘cause love is stronger

Love is stronger

You said follow

And I will follow

Wherever you’re going

I will go

What’s this I see

Your feet again

Here in our garden

Human one

But I cannot cling

The ripple’s gone out

Beyond the stars and back

Human one

But neither death nor life

Can separate us

‘cause love is stronger

Love is stronger

You said follow

And we will follow

Wherever you’re going

We will go

Human One directed, filmed, and edited by Alana Levandoski song written, performed, and produced by Alana Levandoski

Follow Alana on Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/alanalevandoski

Listening to the sweet and soulful songs of Alana Levandoski is prayer itself. I discovered Alana through the Center for Action and Contemplation and have used her contemplative songs and chants in retreats I have led and in my own prayer practice. Whether setting music to her own words, or lyrics drawn from poetry or scripture, her singing is elevated prayer.

Ring Out, Wild Bells, a poem sung by Alana, is a heartfelt, prayerful intention to ring out the old of 2020, a year of great challenges, and to ring in the new of 2021. The poem, In Memoriam, (Ring out, wild bells) was written during a time of grief, nearly 150 years ago by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892). The lyrics ring true for both letting go and welcoming in—letting go of the false, feuding, dying, grief, pride, partisan divide, and civic slander WHILE welcoming in the new, true, noble, sweet, pure, love, truth, light, and peace. Read more HERE.

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Images of Faith: My Grandma and the Sacred Heart of Jesus

Images are so powerful. They tap into the pool of memories, both personal and universal, that are deep within us. One image can be understood in so many ways—for different people, faiths, and cultures or for the same person over time.

Recently when the Sacred Heart of Jesus popped out in my Facebook newsfeed, memories of my grandma came flooding back. 

sacred heart of jesus 1

She had a framed image of the Sacred Heart between her living room and her kitchen. As a young child, I remember wondering why the heart had fire and blood on it…and, quite honestly, I was a little afraid of the image. I never asked about it and she never said anything either. Same with the rosary on her nightstand (pictured below). Or the prayer cards on her dresser. But I remember them. Those images communicated a deep faith in Catholicism and belief in and devotion to Jesus that I intuitively knew she had.

rosary

We didn’t talk about faith much, but she always encouraged her sons, their wives, and grandchildren to go to Church and she was so proud when I received my First Communion and Holy Confirmation. Her faith in God was important to her but she didn’t have to use many words to communicate that.Communion Confirmation Continue reading “Images of Faith: My Grandma and the Sacred Heart of Jesus” →

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