Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious Majesty, to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. (Collect for Advent Sunday)
Happy New Year! As we begin the liturgical year afresh and look towards both Christmas and the dawn of a new secular year, the Church invites us into a rhythm of preparation rather than haste. December may feel crowded with activity, yet the liturgy quietly draws us into deeper reflection — through the stark beauty of the Advent Collect (to be said or sung every day until Christmas Eve) and the haunting progression of the O Antiphons (to be prayed in the final days of Advent). These ancient prayers, rooted in Scripture and shaped by centuries of Christian longing, guide us day by day towards the mystery of the Incarnation.
In this issue of the Gazette, covering December and January, the antiphons offer a framework for our reflections. They speak into a world that feels as unsettled as ever, naming those most human hopes and fears of all the years. They invite us not only to look back to Christ’s coming in humility, but also forward into a new year where our faith is lived out with greater zeal.
The Advent Collect asks that we ‘cast away the works of darkness and put upon us the armour of light’. It is an uncompromising beginning to the Church’s year — a reminder that preparation is never passive. Before we speak of hope, or carols, or light in the stable, we are asked to look honestly at what distorts or diminishes us. Only then can the humility of Christ’s first coming, and the majesty of his return, be met with clear eyes and a ready heart.
‘O come, thou Wisdom from on high, who orderest all things mightily; to us the path of knowledge show, and teach us in her ways to go. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.’ (Isaiah 11:2; 17th December)
Wisdom is not simply knowledge, but the divine ordering of life itself. As we approach Christmas, this antiphon invites us to seek a steadiness of heart — a way of seeing that brings understanding, not anxiety. The stories in this month’s Gazette echo this longing: how do we discern God’s direction in a complex world?
‘O come, O come, thou Lord of might, who to thy tribes on Sinai’s height in ancient times didst give the law in cloud and majesty and awe. Rejoice…’ (Exodus 6:6; 18th December)
Invoking the Lord of might recalls the law given on Sinai, but also the mercy that shapes it. Advent preparation asks whether our strength reflects Christ’s own: firm yet compassionate, principled yet gentle. Our story on the Presbyterian Church in Ireland this month highlights how leadership is tested and refined in such uncomfortable tensions.
‘O come, thou Branch of Jesse’s Tree, free them from Satan’s tyranny; that trust thy mighty power to save, and give them victory o’er the grave. Rejoice…’ (Isaiah 11:1; 19th December)
Here we are reminded that restoration often begins at the roots. As branches grafted into God’s promise, we are called to uncover what nourishes faith in our communities. The Mothers’ Union reflection in this issue bears witness to that deep, generational rootedness.
‘O come, thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home; make safe the way that leads on high, and close the path to misery. Rejoice…’ (Isaiah 22:22; 20th December)
Keys open, but they also close. We are asked to consider which doors Christ is urging us to walk through and which pathways we are called to leave behind. The long history of St Mary’s Pro Cathedral — and its new designation — stands as a living reminder that God continues to unlock futures we thought were settled.
‘O come, thou Dayspring from on high, And cheer us by thy drawing nigh; disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadow put to flight. Rejoice…’ (Isaiah 9:2; 21st December)
As daylight shortens, the promise of the Dayspring feels particularly tender. To ask for clouds to disperse is also to acknowledge the shadows we carry. January will bring its own grey mornings and renewed routines, yet Christ’s light remains steady, illuminating small acts of faithfulness.
‘O come, Desire of Nations, bind in one the hearts of all mankind; bid thou our sad divisions cease, and be thyself our King of Peace. Rejoice…’ (Jeremiah 10:7; 22nd December)
This is perhaps the antiphon our Church and fractured world needs most. To bind in one the hearts of all humankind sounds impossibly large — yet every story of reconciliation, inclusion, and shared ministry nudges us closer to that peace.
‘O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear. Rejoice…’ (Isaiah 7:14; 23rd December)
‘God with us’ is the culmination of every Advent longing. After all the waiting, preparing, questioning, and hoping, we arrive again at the simple truth that God is near — in our churches, in our disagreements, in our rebuilding, and in our journeys into a new year. Emmanuel is not the end of Advent but the beginning of Christian life lived afresh.
On behalf of the Board of the Church of Ireland Press, the Editorial Team, and the wider Church of Ireland community, may I wish you all a very merry Christmas. May the year ahead find us attentive to that presence, courageous in faith, and patient in hope. And may we step into 2026 clothed not in the anxieties of the world, but in the armour of light.
