The Lamp, the Sun, and the Saint

A Season of Silence and a Season of Song

For our brothers and sisters in the Latin Church, this time of year unfolds like a pilgrimage through a spiritual desert. Advent wraps the sanctuary in violet and invites the believer into a silence that purifies and sobers the heart. The liturgy carries the faithful to the banks of the Jordan River, where they stand before the adult John the Baptist, a severe yet holy figure who cries out with urgency that the world must prepare for the coming King. It is a season that teaches us to lower our pride, to repent with sincerity, and to wait with a vigilant and disciplined spirit. There is beauty in its austerity, and strength in its quiet longing.

But when one steps into a Maronite church this Sunday, everything changes. The desert gives way to the hill country of Judea, where homes are filled with relatives, neighbors, and the innocent joy that surrounds every birth. The vestments are white, the hymns are bright, and the air carries a sense of holy celebration. We do not call this season Advent. We call it the Season of Happy Announcements, a spiritual ascent in which each Sunday unveils a new mystery preparing our hearts for the coming of Christ. And this week, the announcement is no longer a promise whispered in the dark. It is a child placed in our arms. The birth of John the Baptist.

The Silence Broken and the First Song of the New Covenant

To understand the depth of this feast, we look to Zechariah, the father of the newborn prophet. For nine months, he lived in complete silence, struck mute because he hesitated before the message of God. Yet his silence became more than a reminder of doubt. It became a symbol woven into salvation history. The Old Covenant, with all its laws and prophets, had guided God’s people faithfully, yet it now reached its final threshold. The long-awaited Messiah stood at the door of history. The world held its breath.

This Sunday, that long silence finally breaks. Zechariah writes the name of the child, John, meaning God is Gracious. His voice returns instantly, but he does not begin with complaint or explanation. He does not speak about his suffering or his frustration. He lifts his voice in praise. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people. The first words spoken by the renewed priesthood are not words of correction or warning. They are words of gratitude. The Latin tradition calls the soul to repentance as Christmas nears, while the Maronite tradition calls it to thanksgiving. And together they reveal a gentle truth. We cannot prepare a place for Jesus unless we understand how deeply He has already loved us.

 

A Lamp for the Night and a Sun for the Dawn

The Maronite icon of this feast hides a quiet theology within its simplicity. Before the rising sun, a small oil lamp continues to burn. This image reflects the words of Christ Himself who said of John the Baptist, He was a burning and shining lamp. A lamp is a humble and beautiful thing, yet it is created. It relies on oil, a wick, and the hand that lights it. It shines only while night remains. The Sun, however, is uncreated. It rises by its own power, fills the entire world with warmth, and brings life to every living thing.

John the Baptist is that lamp. He shines faithfully in the final hours of the world’s long night, guiding us toward the Dawn. He prepares the path, speaks the truth, and stands as a witness to the Light. Yet when Jesus appears, the Lamp bows before the Sun. He must grow, but I must shrink. The lamp does not compete with the sunrise. It rejoices in it.

 

Saint Charbel, the Quiet Lamp of Lebanon

For the Maronite heart, the image of the lamp belongs not only to John the Baptist but also to Saint Charbel, whose entire life became a flame in the silence of God. For twenty three years, he lived in the hermitage of Annaya with complete poverty, obedience, and hiddenness. His nights belonged to prayer. His days revealed nothing but humility. His bed was made of goat hair. His meals were meager. Yet because he emptied himself so completely, he became a vessel filled with heavenly light.

There is a story, beloved by every child in Lebanon, that reveals this mystery in a single moment. One night in 1875, Charbel’s lamp went dry. A young brother wishing to play a small trick filled it not with oil but with water. He hid behind the door, expecting to see confusion. But Charbel took the lamp, lit it, and the flame appeared instantly. The water burned like pure oil. When the Superior tasted the liquid, realized it was water, and looked into the simplicity of Charbel’s eyes, he said, God loves you and has given you the Holy Spirit. God, who brought life to Elizabeth’s barren womb, brought light to Charbel’s water-filled lamp. He gives the flame when we offer Him faith.

 

The Light that Continues to Shine

This sacred symbol has not faded with time. During the Holy Father’s recent visit to the Monastery of Saint Maron in Annaya, he offered a lamp to the monks as a sign of the light God continues to kindle through Saint Charbel. With heartfelt words, he entrusted Lebanon and all who love Saint Charbel to this light and invited them to walk in the radiance of Christ. The lamp of John the Baptist and the lamp of Charbel now stand together in the spiritual landscape of the Church, reminding us that every generation needs both a prophet and a saint.

 

Two Ways of Preparing for the Same Lord

As we draw near to Christmas, the Latin and Maronite traditions offer us two movements of the heart, two ways of preparing the soul for the mystery of the Incarnation. The Latin way is the voice in the desert that calls us to repentance, courage, and conversion. It tells us to clear the way, to examine our lives, and to welcome the Lord with sincerity. The Maronite way is the lamp in the window that invites us to trust, to rejoice, and to believe that God still performs wonders. It reminds us that He turns silence into song and water into light.

This week, let us hold both ways close. Let us repent with the courage of the adult John the Baptist. Let us trust with the humility of Saint Charbel. Let us prepare a clean heart for the Lord and, at the same time, let us believe that He continues to kindle small flames in the darkness of this world. May each one of us become a lamp that shines for others until the Sun of Justice rises in our lives.