During Morning Prayer, the Liturgy of the Hours offers us a series of intensely spiritual canticles to accompany the basic prayers of the psalms. Today we have heard one example, taken from the third and last chapter of the Book of Habakkuk. This prophet lived at the end of the seventh century B.C., when the kingdom of Judah felt itself crushed between two growing superpowers—

Egypt on one side and Babylon on the other.

Yet, many scholars believe that this final hymn may be a quotation. In this view, to Habakkuk's short manuscript there was added, as an appendix, what is definitely a liturgical song “to a plaintive tune,” to be accompanied “with stringed instruments” as the two notes at the beginning and the end of the canticle explain (see Habakkuk 3:1,19b). The Liturgy of the Hours draws upon the theme of this ancient prayer of Israel and invites us to transform this composition into a Christian song by selecting some of its more significant verses (see verses 2-4, 13a, 15-19a).

A God of Light

This hymn, which also displays considerable poetic intensity, presents a grandiose image of the Lord (see verses 3-4). His figure looms solemnly over the entire world and the universe trembles as he solemnly advances. He is coming from the south, from Teman and Mount Paran (see verse 3), from the area of Mt. Sinai, the site of the great epiphany and revelation for Israel. Psalm 68 also described how “from Sinai the Lord entered the holy place” of Jerusalem (see verse 18). Following an old biblical tradition, he is surrounded by light when he appears (see Habakkuk 3:4).

This radiance of his transcendent mystery is being communicated to mankind. Indeed, this light is beyond us: we cannot hold it and we cannot stop it. Yet this light envelops us and gives us light and warmth. God is like this—near yet far, beyond us yet near us, or better still, willing to be together with us and in us. As he reveals his majesty, the earth answers with a chorus of praise: it is a response of the universe, a kind of prayer to which man gives voice.

This interior experience has been deeply felt within our Christian tradition not only in the context of personal spirituality, but also in some bold artistic creations. Besides the majestic cathedrals of the Middle Ages, we would like to especially mention of the art of Eastern Christianity with its magnificent icons and the brilliant and ingenious architecture of its churches and monasteries.

In this regard, the Church of St. Sophia in Constantinople remains to this very day a sort of archetype as to how to design space for Christian prayer, where the presence and elusiveness of light lets us feel both the intimacy and the transcendence of the reality of God. It penetrates the entire prayer community to the marrow of their bones and, at the same time, draws them out of themselves and immerses them wholly into this inef-fable mystery. The spiritual and artistic characteristics of the monasteries typical of the Eastern Christian tradition are equally significant. In these truly sacred spaces — and our thoughts turn immediately to Mount Athos—time bears in itself a sign of eternity. Through the constant prayer of the monks and hermits who have been compared to the angels over the centuries, the mystery of God is manifested and concealed in these spaces.

A God of Justice

But let us return to the canticle of the prophet Habakkuk. For this sacred author, the Lord's entrance into the world has a very precise meaning. He wishes to enter into the history of mankind—“in the course of the years,” as the second verse repeats two times —in order to judge and improve the vicissitudes of daily life that we face in a rather confused and often perverse way.

Then, God shows his wrath (see verse 2c) against sin. This canticle refers to a series of God's unrelenting interventions, but without specifying whether they are his direct or indirect actions. It recalls Israel's exodus when Pharaoh's horsemen were drowned in the sea (see verse 15). At the same time, the Lord's prospective work in confronting the new oppressors of his people flashes before our eyes. God's intervention is depicted in an almost “visible” way through a series of images drawn from agriculture: “For though the fig tree blossom not nor fruit be on the vines, thought the yield of the olive fail and the terraces produce no nourishment, though the flocks disappear from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls…” (verse

17). All signs of peace and fertility are eliminated and the world is like a desert. Other prophets were fond of using this symbol (see Jeremiah 4:19-26; 12:7-13; 14:1-10) to illustrate the Lord's judgment, which does not remain indifferent in the face of evil, oppression and injustice.

When faced with God's intervention, the one praying this prayer is terrified (see Habakkuk 3:16): his body trembles, he feels an emptiness in his soul, and he is seized with trembling, because the God of justice is infallible—very different from earthly judges.

A God of Mercy

But the Lord's entrance has yet another function that this canticle exalts with joy. Indeed, in spite of his wrath he will not forget his compassionate mercy (see verse 2). He goes forth from the horizon of his glory not only to destroy the arrogance of the wicked but also to save his people and his anointed one (see verse 13), which are Israel and its king. He also wants to liberate them from their oppressors, pour out hope in the hearts of these victims, and begin a new era of justice.

For this reason, this canticle, although characterized as a “plaintive tune,” is transformed into a hymn of joy. The disasters that are anticipated are actually aimed at liberating the people from their oppressors (see verse 15). Therefore they are the source of joy for the righteous who exclaim: “Yet will I rejoice in the Lord and exult in my saving God” (verse 18). Jesus suggested that his disciples have the same attitude in the time of apocalyptic catastrophes: “But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your hands, because your redemption is at hand” (Luke 21:28).

The final verse of Habakkuk's canticle, where he expresses the peace that he has attained once again, is very beautiful. Just as David did in Psalm 18, he describes the Lord not only as his “strength” but also as the one who make him swift, cool and peaceful in the face of danger. David sang, “I love you, O Lord, my strength..who made my feet as swift as those of hinds and set me on the heights…” (Psalm 18:2,

34). Now the author of this canticle exclaims: “God, my Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet swift as those of hinds and enables me to go upon the heights” (Habakkuk 3:19). When the Lord is at our side, we will no longer fear any threats or obstacles, but we will continue with confidence and joy along the rough road of life.

(Register translation)

Register Summary

More than 13,000 pilgrims gathered in St. Peter's Square on May 15 for Pope John Paul II's weekly general audience. The Holy Father continued his teachings on the psalms and canticles of the Liturgy of the Hours with a meditation on the Canticle of Habakkuk.

Using highly poetic language, the Holy Father pointed out that the prophet Habakkuk presents a grandiose image of God using images of light. “This radiance of his transcendent mystery is being communicated to mankind. Indeed, this light is beyond us: we cannot hold it and we cannot stop it. Yet this light envelops us and gives us light and warmth. God is like this—near yet far, beyond yet near us, or better still, willing to be together with us and in us.”

We can perceive this same concept of light in the art and architecture of the medieval cathedrals and the icons, churches and monasteries of the Eastern Church. “It penetrates the entire prayer community to the marrow of their bones and, at the same time, draws them out of themselves and immerses them wholly into this ineffable mystery, ” the Holy Father noted.

Man is often seized with fear when God appears in such holiness and splendor: “his body trembles, he feels an emptiness in his soul, and he is seized with trembling, because the God of justice is infallible—very different from earthly judges.” Yet God is a compassionate God. “He goes forth from the horizon of his glory not only to destroy the arrogance of the wicked but also to save his people and his anointed one (see verse 13), which are Israel and its king. He also wants to liberate them from their oppressors, pour out hope in the hearts of these victims, and begin a new era of justice,” the Holy Father noted. Thus, this hymn that began on a plaintive note is transformed into a hymn of joy.

The Holy Father concluded his general audience by asking those present as well as Catholics around the world for their spiritual support in order to continue his ministry as Bishop of Rome as he approached his 82nd birthday on May 18.