Some thoughts on Marion reverence. (from a wall-to-wall with Bus Friend #2)
Bus Friend #2 and I both sing with the Victoria Choral Society. This season we're working on Dvorak's Stabat Mater and Orff's Carmina Burana. Funnily enough BF#2 found the text to Stabat Mater more troubling than Carmina Burana.
Stabat mater dolorosa juxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius.
At the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.
Cuius animam gementem,contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius.
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed.
O quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti!
O how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One.
Quae moerebat et dolebat, pia Mater, dum videbat nati poenas inclyti.
Christ above in torment hangs, she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son.
Quis est homo qui non fleret, matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio?
Is there one who would not weep, whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Quis non posset contristari Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio?
Can the human heart refrain from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold?
Pro peccatis suae gentis vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum.
For the sins of His own nation, She saw Jesus wracked with torment, All with scourges rent:
Vidit suum dulcem Natum moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum.
She beheld her tender Child, Saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent.
Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam.
O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord:
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam.
Make me feel as thou hast felt; make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord.
Sancta Mater, istud agas, crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide.
Holy Mother! pierce me through, in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified:
Tui Nati vulnerati, tam dignati pro me pati, poenas mecum divide.
Let me share with thee His pain, who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died.
Fac me tecum pie flere, crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero.
Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live:
Juxta Crucem tecum stare, et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero.
By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give.
Virgo virginum praeclara, mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere.
Virgin of all virgins blest!, Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine;
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem, passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere.
Let me, to my latest breath, in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine.
Fac me plagis vulnerari, fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii.
Wounded with His every wound, steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away;
Flammis ne urar succensus, per te, Virgo, sim defensus in die iudicii.
Be to me, O Virgin, nigh, lest in flames I burn and die, in His awful Judgment Day.
Christe, cum sit hinc exire, da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriae.
Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, by Thy Mother my defense, by Thy Cross my victory;
Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animae donetur paradisi gloria. Amen.
When my body dies, let my soul be granted the glory of Paradise. Amen.
(Text and translation from wikipedia. Literal word-for-word translation can be found here.)
Surprisingly, it wasn't the Marian aspects of the text that bothered BF#2, but the way the word condolere had been translated in our scores: bemoan. For her, bemoan held a "connotation of regret or dissatisfaction (especially when used flippantly)" and didn't sound like something that we should do over the death of Christ -- especially since the act that brought about our Salvation should only be met with pure rejoicing.
You all know me: you know that I've done a lot of thinking about this. Most of you know that the church I attended in Montreal didn't always do anything for Good Friday. A lot of Protestant churches don't... the focus is purely on the resurrection. Don't get me wrong, the resurrection is important... but the reason that it is so important is the sacrifice that it was. So, this conversation that BF#2 so innocently started with me during choir turned into the following wall-to-wall on facebook.
BF#2:
So I looked up the English word "condolence" and the Latin "condolere" to get the connotations of them, and it's the idea of suffering greatly and of sharing sympathy, which makes more sense to me than "bemoaning." I get what it's getting at better now.
Eventhere:
I'm glad!
I wish that there was a better way to express that in English... I mean, condolence clearly carries the connotation of sympathy, but doesn't feel right when you compare it to an "our condolences" card. It should, but it doesn't feel quite right.
I was thinking about Mary carrying all "these things" in her heart... and Simeon saying that I sword should pierce her heart. I would liken the sentiment of the text to that of a mother reflecting on that pain that Mary would have felt. It would have been a bittersweetness that would well up in her forever, really. As protestants, we really only think of Mary from the time of the annunciation to the temple. She shows up a couple times after that: wedding at Canaan, when she and the brothers got to see him in the passage that speaks of a prophet in his own town (right before the legion with the pigs, I believe... at least they happen in the same part of the same village in my head, haha) and then when Jesus says "woman, here is your son, and John, here is your mother" from the cross. But really... it's not like SHE died in those three days that Jesus was dead. She would have been there when he came back.
Can you imagine?
I can't help but think that she would have that wonderful mix of praise and sorrow everytime she saw him after that. The "I carried you, I kissed your scrapped knee, I heard crazy prophesies about you, I was frantic that day we lost you when you were twelve, and I felt like Joseph and I lost a part of you that day. I was the one that 'pushed' you to make that wine that day, I missed you while you travelled, I smelt the wine vinegar and the blood, I heard the cries, and I held you when they brought your wounded body down from the cross. O Sacred Head! Simeon's words haunted me forever. And now you're back? But for how long? My Son, you're my Saviour, but I can only begin to fathom that... I remember the day you got your first tooth..."
I think that we should carry an awareness of that with us. A kinship. A blood-bond with Christ. We can't in the same way, no... we can only sympathize and not quite emphasize... and I do believe that, poetically, there are moments where we can only bemoan with the mother of our Lord. And moments where all we truly see is the glory. But I believe that true devotion quite possibly happens where that bittersweetness meets. A blend of colours. A bleeding.
(Alright! Sounds like I have a new blog to reflect on and post, eh? Btw, did you know that there's not *really* a french "word" for bittersweet? You can say "aigre-doux" but that tends to relate only to taste and not sentiment!)
(The Next Day)
BF#2:
I completely agree about the necessity of always reflecting about the gravity and somberness of Christ's sacrifice, but I think it can only be done with gratitude and rejoicing (rejoicing doesn't necessarily = happiness--you can rejoice in sorrow as well, "hallelujah" can be said with both a heavy and a light heart), and I feel like the word "bemoan" keeps that out.
I like what she said about saying Hallelujah with a heavy heart. I like the idea of bittersweetness in worship. I like the fact that that's an ok thing to feel. I love Leonard Cohen's line "it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah" or Casting Crown's "and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm."
There is room for heartbreak in worship, whether it is our own personal heartbreak out of our life on earth, or the heartbreak as we reflect on the Passion and the pain that the Mother of our Lord would have felt on that dark day. Either way, Hallelujah and Blessed Be the Name of the Lord!
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name!
Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live:
By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give.
Stabat mater dolorosa juxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius.
At the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.
Cuius animam gementem,contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius.
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed.
O quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti!
O how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One.
Quae moerebat et dolebat, pia Mater, dum videbat nati poenas inclyti.
Christ above in torment hangs, she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son.
Quis est homo qui non fleret, matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio?
Is there one who would not weep, whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Quis non posset contristari Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio?
Can the human heart refrain from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold?
Pro peccatis suae gentis vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum.
For the sins of His own nation, She saw Jesus wracked with torment, All with scourges rent:
Vidit suum dulcem Natum moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum.
She beheld her tender Child, Saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent.
Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam.
O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord:
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam.
Make me feel as thou hast felt; make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord.
Sancta Mater, istud agas, crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide.
Holy Mother! pierce me through, in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified:
Tui Nati vulnerati, tam dignati pro me pati, poenas mecum divide.
Let me share with thee His pain, who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died.
Fac me tecum pie flere, crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero.
Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live:
Juxta Crucem tecum stare, et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero.
By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give.
Virgo virginum praeclara, mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere.
Virgin of all virgins blest!, Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine;
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem, passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere.
Let me, to my latest breath, in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine.
Fac me plagis vulnerari, fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii.
Wounded with His every wound, steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away;
Flammis ne urar succensus, per te, Virgo, sim defensus in die iudicii.
Be to me, O Virgin, nigh, lest in flames I burn and die, in His awful Judgment Day.
Christe, cum sit hinc exire, da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriae.
Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, by Thy Mother my defense, by Thy Cross my victory;
Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animae donetur paradisi gloria. Amen.
When my body dies, let my soul be granted the glory of Paradise. Amen.
(Text and translation from wikipedia. Literal word-for-word translation can be found here.)
Surprisingly, it wasn't the Marian aspects of the text that bothered BF#2, but the way the word condolere had been translated in our scores: bemoan. For her, bemoan held a "connotation of regret or dissatisfaction (especially when used flippantly)" and didn't sound like something that we should do over the death of Christ -- especially since the act that brought about our Salvation should only be met with pure rejoicing.
You all know me: you know that I've done a lot of thinking about this. Most of you know that the church I attended in Montreal didn't always do anything for Good Friday. A lot of Protestant churches don't... the focus is purely on the resurrection. Don't get me wrong, the resurrection is important... but the reason that it is so important is the sacrifice that it was. So, this conversation that BF#2 so innocently started with me during choir turned into the following wall-to-wall on facebook.
BF#2:
So I looked up the English word "condolence" and the Latin "condolere" to get the connotations of them, and it's the idea of suffering greatly and of sharing sympathy, which makes more sense to me than "bemoaning." I get what it's getting at better now.
Eventhere:
I'm glad!
I wish that there was a better way to express that in English... I mean, condolence clearly carries the connotation of sympathy, but doesn't feel right when you compare it to an "our condolences" card. It should, but it doesn't feel quite right.
I was thinking about Mary carrying all "these things" in her heart... and Simeon saying that I sword should pierce her heart. I would liken the sentiment of the text to that of a mother reflecting on that pain that Mary would have felt. It would have been a bittersweetness that would well up in her forever, really. As protestants, we really only think of Mary from the time of the annunciation to the temple. She shows up a couple times after that: wedding at Canaan, when she and the brothers got to see him in the passage that speaks of a prophet in his own town (right before the legion with the pigs, I believe... at least they happen in the same part of the same village in my head, haha) and then when Jesus says "woman, here is your son, and John, here is your mother" from the cross. But really... it's not like SHE died in those three days that Jesus was dead. She would have been there when he came back.
Can you imagine?
I can't help but think that she would have that wonderful mix of praise and sorrow everytime she saw him after that. The "I carried you, I kissed your scrapped knee, I heard crazy prophesies about you, I was frantic that day we lost you when you were twelve, and I felt like Joseph and I lost a part of you that day. I was the one that 'pushed' you to make that wine that day, I missed you while you travelled, I smelt the wine vinegar and the blood, I heard the cries, and I held you when they brought your wounded body down from the cross. O Sacred Head! Simeon's words haunted me forever. And now you're back? But for how long? My Son, you're my Saviour, but I can only begin to fathom that... I remember the day you got your first tooth..."
I think that we should carry an awareness of that with us. A kinship. A blood-bond with Christ. We can't in the same way, no... we can only sympathize and not quite emphasize... and I do believe that, poetically, there are moments where we can only bemoan with the mother of our Lord. And moments where all we truly see is the glory. But I believe that true devotion quite possibly happens where that bittersweetness meets. A blend of colours. A bleeding.
(Alright! Sounds like I have a new blog to reflect on and post, eh? Btw, did you know that there's not *really* a french "word" for bittersweet? You can say "aigre-doux" but that tends to relate only to taste and not sentiment!)
(The Next Day)
BF#2:
I completely agree about the necessity of always reflecting about the gravity and somberness of Christ's sacrifice, but I think it can only be done with gratitude and rejoicing (rejoicing doesn't necessarily = happiness--you can rejoice in sorrow as well, "hallelujah" can be said with both a heavy and a light heart), and I feel like the word "bemoan" keeps that out.
I like what she said about saying Hallelujah with a heavy heart. I like the idea of bittersweetness in worship. I like the fact that that's an ok thing to feel. I love Leonard Cohen's line "it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah" or Casting Crown's "and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm."
There is room for heartbreak in worship, whether it is our own personal heartbreak out of our life on earth, or the heartbreak as we reflect on the Passion and the pain that the Mother of our Lord would have felt on that dark day. Either way, Hallelujah and Blessed Be the Name of the Lord!
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name!
Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live:
By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give.