You may well ask: what is autumn for? What is its function?
Is it merely a stairstep to winter, a logical end to summer, a necessary decline?
We have spoken this week about death, about impermanence. It is a theme of the season. We are surrounded by the colorful death of leaves falling from the trees, skeletons in our decorations, the decline of our gardens, the urgency of putting away the harvest, and stocking our pantries.
For some of us, this annual decline leads to a desire to hibernate, get cozy. For others, it leads to a pervasive discomfort.
This is natural. Death is uncomfortable.
But it is not the whole story.
In the older traditions of the Christian church, there still exists a rhythm of the day called the Daily Office. My dear readers who follow these more traditional denominations are welcome to correct me, but as I understand it: within this framework, certain hours of the day are given particular unique liturgical prayers, creating a daily rhythm of stopping at certain times to pray. In the old days (and even today, depending on where you are) churches would ring their bells at these times, inviting those within earshot to pause and pray.
As you can imagine with something this ancient there are many variations across culture and history, but the traditional hours are often listed this way:
Matins (nighttime)
Lauds (early morning)
Prime (first hour of daylight)
Terce (third hour)
Sext (noon)
Nones (ninth hour)
Vespers (sunset evening)
Compline (end of the day)
Why do I mention this? Because I believe that autumn is the year’s Vespers. Sunset evening, with its own liturgy, its own set of prayers.
Can you hear the bell ringing, inviting you to pray?
At Vespers, those who observe the hour say goodbye to the sun as it sets. They approach the coming night with gratitude, with open hands. The work of the day is done and it is time to slow down, prepare for peaceful sleep. They face the night without fear, knowing that they are surrounded by grace and the arms of Autumn’s God, the wheel-maker, the God Who Dances in Circles.
You may not pray the hours, but there is still an invitation for all of us in the tolling of the Vespers bell. Vespers is sweet because there is morning on the other side of night. Autumn is sweet because there is spring on the far side of the cold. From before we are aware of it, we are taught what rebirth looks like. It is the heartbeat of our days, our seasons.
Resurrection is one of our first and most profound lessons.
Decline is part of rebirth, and as we find ourselves surrounded by the phoenix-fire of fluttering leaves and the tiny trumpets of emerging mushrooms, the angel choirs of migrating birds and the monklike persistence of creatures preparing for winter, we can let the Vespers bell remind us that all must end, end, end, in order to begin once more.
Vespers
by John O’Donohue
As light departs to let the earth be one with night, Silence deepens in the mind, and thoughts grow slow; The basket of twilight brims over with colors Gathered from within the secret meadows of the day And offered like blessings to the gathering Tenebrae. After the day's frenzy, may the heart grow still, Gracious in thought for all the day brought, Surprises that dawn could never have dreamed: The blue silence that came to still the mind, The quiver of mystery at the edge of a glimpse, The golden echoes of worlds behind voices. Tense faces unable to hide what gripped the heart, The abrupt cut of a glance or a word that hurt, The flame of longing that distance darkened, Bouquets of memory gathered on the heart's altar, The thorns of absence in the rose of dream. And the whole while the unknown underworld Of the mind, turning slowly, in its secret orbit. May the blessing of sleep bring refreshment and release And the Angel of the moon call the rivers of dream To soften the hardened earth of the outside life, Disentangle from the trapped nets the hurt and sorrow, And awaken the young soul for the new tomorrow.
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I love love love this. Thank you. The Daily Office/ Liturgy of the Hours is a beautiful devotion. There's a place relatively near me--a monastery--where you can book a room and do a DIY retreat and stay with monks and pray the Hours with them. It's always appealed to me but I've never done it.
One thing I love about this is how the liturgy of the hours is the seasonal liturgy in microcosm. If Autumn is the sunset bell, then Spring is the dawning resurrection. We even celebrate All Saints/All Souls day in Autumn (also known as All Hallows Eve/Dia de muerta in english and hispanic cultures, as I understand it), and the paschal Resurrection in spring. I have a vague recollection of Ember days having a tie-in with seasonal harvests, but I don't remember the connection. The breathing in and breathing out of our lives--the days, the months, the seasons, the years--it's all authored by the same God, so it is no wonder that the Church and our lives have this synchronicity. It is beautiful in it's intricacy.
The tides of life are closely and spiritually connected with the tides of faith. I like how you have presented it here--"all must end, in order to begin once more." Very well said.
John O’Donohugh really captures things so beautifully