Thursday of the First Week of Advent

Optional Memorial of St. John of Damascus, Priest and Doctor of the Church

Brief Background:

St. John of Damascus (c. 675–749), also known as John Damascene, was a priest, monk, and one of the greatest theologians of the early Church. Born into a prominent Christian family in Damascus, he later entered the monastery of St. Sabas near Jerusalem.

He is best known for defending the use of holy images and icons during the Iconoclast controversy, arguing that since God became visible in Jesus Christ, sacred images can point us toward the divine. His writings helped shape the Church’s teaching on icons for centuries to come.

St. John was also a gifted hymn writer, poet, preacher, and philosopher. His work Exposition of the Orthodox Faith is considered one of the first systematic summaries of Christian theology.

He died in the monastery of St. Sabas and is venerated as a Doctor of the Church. He is the patron saint of theologians, icon painters and artists, pharmacists and monastic musicians and hymn writers.

REFLECTION:

When I read Isaiah 26, especially the line, “On that day they will sing this song in the land of Judah…,” I can’t help but picture the ending of a Disney movie or a musical. You know the moment—after all the drama, all the obstacles, all the heartbreak, something finally breaks through. The hero discovers who they really are, the villain is defeated, the tension melts away, and the screen suddenly fills with music.

Think of movies like The Lion King, Moana, or Beauty and the Beast. Right when the story turns from darkness to light, everyone bursts into a song—not because someone forced them to sing, but because joy can’t be contained. Music becomes the natural response when everything comes together.

Isaiah is capturing that kind of moment. Israel had known defeat, exile, and fear. They had seen walls fall, lives scattered, dreams crushed. But now God promises a “strong city,” not built by stone, but by His own protection and presence. And once the people realize what God has done, once they experience His deliverance, it erupts into a victory hymn.

“A nation that keeps faith” enters.
“He keeps in perfect peace the one whose mind stays on Him.”
“The lofty city is brought down, and the poor walk over it in triumph.”

This is God’s happy ending—not a fairy tale, but a real reversal of power:  the humble lifted up, the proud brought low, the faithful sheltered, the fearful restored.

And like every good musical, the song is not sung before the struggle, but through it and after it. Victory hymns are born only in places where people had something to survive. Israel sings because they have lived through something, and now they see what God has done.

In our own lives, we may still be in the “middle scenes”—the tension, the challenge, the uncertainty. But Isaiah reminds us that God is already writing the final act. There will be a victory hymn. There will be a moment when we look back and say, “God carried me through.” There will come a day when faithfulness, perseverance, trust, and humility will lead us into that “strong city” where peace is complete.

And when God brings us there—into healing, into clarity, into hope—the only thing left to do will be to sing.

So here’s a thought: What will be your victory hymn?

If you were to write a song about how God has carried you through struggles, lifted you in dark moments, restored your hope, or rebuilt what was broken—what would your lyrics say? What would the melody sound like?

Maybe it would be a quiet prayer, maybe a joyful chorus, maybe something only you and God know—but whatever it is, it would be a beautiful testimony of grace.

And who knows—your hymn might be exactly what someone else needs to hear. Feel free to share your “victory song” with others. It could be the reminder they need that God is still writing their story too.