Repainting the Treasury

 Though I love this old blog, my unfortunate choice of name (particularly the transliterated Greek in the URL) make this blog hard to remember and hard to find.  So I am porting the whole blog over to Undusted Texts (a new blog, not my old hand-made website).  This blog will remain, in all its old-fashioned glory.  Perhaps I'll get sick of the new-fangled look of the new blog and change it to match here; perhaps I'll be extra crazy and post both here and there.  We'll see what the future holds.  But, no matter what, this blog will remain in perpetuo.

Why Self-Publish Theology Translations?

Theology translations are not the most common works to encounter in self-publishing: the practice is better-known for genre fiction or memoirs.  In itself, though, it is simply a technique, applicable to any kind of written work.

What is it, then, that makes self-publishing appealing, especially for a work of this kind?  It is easier to see when we consider the three main styles of publishing: academic presses, mainstream presses, and self-publishing.

Academic presses are generally connected to a college or university, though they may be connected to independent institutes as well.  Such presses are best known for monographs, exceedingly erudite, often fairly slim, works on highly-specific subjects, sold for outrageous sums.  Typical academic books are priced highly because they have a low sales volume (very few people would generally be interested in reading them, so few sales made); in addition, the most common purchasers of such academic works are libraries at other colleges and universities, not individuals.  It is a sealed-off world of institutions publishing exorbitantly-priced books simply for each other to read.  Many theological translations end up here, being the result of and input for academic research.

This is not always the case: many academic presses will try to aim certain of their books at a wider public, and price them accordingly.  Many major universities—Princeton, Oxford, Harvard, etc.—are well-known for such publications.  These publications probably won't sell at the same volume as those from completely mainstream presses, but they will do well enough; the low prices can also be subsidized by other institutional funds.  (Though not always: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press has its Popular Patristics series, aimed, as the title says, at a wide audience, and the pricing reflects that.  However, the seminary is not rich enough to subsidize these publications, so manuscript submitters need to come with their own funding.  That's why I've never submitted any translations to them.)

Another aspect of academic presses is their institutional quality: generally, they aim to publish works coming from their own faculty.  They might also publish the works of other academics, if there is a match in specialties between academic and press.  Being an independent scholar, I have few-to-no contacts within academic institutions, and so I don't have any hope of publication in such presses.  Academic publications are also, as mentioned above, generally intended for academics alone, and I don't want my translations relegated to the ivory tower.

Mainstream presses are ruled by the marketplace.  A press may have a good intention, a specific aim with its publications, but those publications, at the end of the day, must make money, or the press will fail.  So mainstream presses will often forego books that fit perfectly with the aim and niche of their press, if the book will not be marketable enough.  For a mainstream book is an investment: there is payment to the author or translator; there is the upfront payment for the print run; there is advertising and marketing; there is the whole machinery of press staff to make everything run.  

That being said, there are some presses which, though not academic or institutional in the sense outlined above, may have an endowment or a powerful donor backing them.  In that case, the press may be able to publish the occasional book at a loss, if it befits the mission of the press.  But that is the exception, not the rule.

Self-publishing covers a wide range.  Some endowed or donor-backed presses, like those just mentioned, may be able to forego market forces completely: some donors may decide to treat a press as a money-losing ministry rather than a market venture.  In that case, the press is more akin to self-publishing than to a mainstream press.

Self-publishing in the past could require a hefty outlay on the author's part: he might have to pay for the whole print run, and then hope to sell enough copies to cover his costs (and a bit more).  The modern self-published author typically uses a print-on-demand service, eliminating this large starting cost.  There may be other costs: the author may hire a proofreader, an editor, a layout or cover designer, or possibly even pay for marketing.  But those things are not strictly necessary, unlike with a mainstream press.

If he wanted (and I know a self-published author of this kind), the author could simply do his own proofreading, editing, layout, cover design, and skip marketing.  At the bare minimum, the modern self-published author simply needs a properly-formatted manuscript, and his book can be available for sale.  

Without professional services, without marketing, the self-published author will rarely sell much.  If he is in it for the money, he will need to adopt many practices of the mainstream press, though he will always be at a disadvantage.  The mainstream press has connections with stores, with media outlets, with catalogs; only the rarest of the rare self-published authors is able to obtain a similar level of success as a mainstream press does.  But, because of the huge decrease (or, sometimes, almost complete elimination) of overhead, the self-published author can ignore market forces: his publishing can be more similar to a donor-backed ministry press, one that prints what he likes, what he thinks is worth printing, regardless of whether it sells.

Is the author's goal to make money?  Then self-publishing is an unlikely route: a mainstream press is the best shot (though most authors don't make that much).  Is the author's goal to have his book read?  Again, the mainstream press is the best bet: such a press has many well-trod avenues for getting readers to hear about books, as well as for getting books in libraries.  (Libraries rarely, if ever, accept self-published books.)  Is the author's goal simply to have his work available?  Then academic presses or self-publishing can be sufficient.  If he is a true denizen of academia, he should have connections to academic presses, and those would be his aim; if he is independent, then the ivory towers are locked to him.  Then he may turn to the mainstream presses, but, if they deem a book not marketable enough, then his last resort is self-publishing, or "copyleft" distribution.  The latter blocks out all hope of monetary recompense, and it often means there will be no hard copies of the book, nothing on Amazon, but it makes the work freely available to all with an Internet connection...as long as they're able to find it in the increasingly-hard-to-search Internet.  

Self-publishing is a middle ground between "copyleft" distribution and the mainstream press.  Like the former, it's an "anything goes" rubber-stamp: there's no submissions editor to evaluate a work's worth and marketability.  Hit "publish," and it's done.  Like the latter, though, self-publishing results in tangible books, in the distant possibility of a few royalties, and in access to a few channels to possible readers.  (Some may choose an Amazon-only distribution; with a bit of outlay, a self-published author may get in contact with other booksellers, such as via Ingram Spark's connections.)  That way, the author is able to piggyback on the search presence of big names like Amazon, so that his work has a bit more chance of appearing on a search than if it's only on a primitive, Grecian-named blog.

My goal is to have my work accessible, able to affect others, though I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of recompense (or, maybe, honorarium, if I want my "work" to really be "leisure": Pieper says that the products of leisure can never receive a wage, a recompense, or else leisure itself is overtaken by the "total-work-state").¹  The method for freest accessibility is my blog, with its "copyleft" distribution.  But I run into the issues of unfindability, as well as my pride in wanting to see my name in print.  So I aim for mainstream presses first, to connect in to their distribution and marketing channels (and, I freely admit, to make a bit of money); when that fails, I now turn to self-publishing, for it has the balance of easy access (I'm able to set the cost as I want, though restricted by the need to work around print costs and royalty structures) and a channel for findability—as well as the occasional ducat or two.

So it is that I've begun to self-publish—not genre fiction or memoirs—but semi-scholarly theological translations.  The benefits of self-publishing—ease of start-up, a channel for discovery, the non-necessity of marketability, etc.—apply to me as well as the composer of space operas.  Whether it will be any more effective than my blog for actually getting my work under the eyes of readers is unknown, but it's certainly worth a shot.  God sows even in the crags of the rocks, for good soil may yet be hiding where no one bothered to look.

---

1 See Josef Pieper, Leisure and Worship (Muße und Kult), better known by the title of its English translation, Leisure, the Basis of Culture.^↩

Text ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the author.

St. Bruno of Cologne: Commentary on the Psalms, Prologue

 Introduction

St. Bruno (1030-1101) was from one of the leading families of Cologne; after being ordained as a priest in 1055, he was called to the college at Reims, which he led for eighteen years (1057-1075).  After being chancellor of the Archdiocese of Reims for a few years, he began to feel a monastic vocation.  After a brief time considering the solitary life with St. Robert of Molesme (1028-1111), later founder of the Cistercians, he instead turned to the coenobitic life and lived in an oratory in Chartreuse with a few companions: the first Carthusians.  His life of retirement was shattered when his former pupil, now Pope Urban II (1035-1099, r. 1088-1099), dragged him to Rome to act as his advisor.  He was able to refuse the pope's push to make him an archbishop, but he was not allowed to leave Italy, so he and his companions started a new oratory in Calabria, which is where he lived until his death.  

Alongside his teaching work, his founding of an order, and his role as a papal advisor, Bruno also wrote a few Scriptural commentaries.  Below is the prologue to his Commentary on the Psalms.

 

Commentary on the Psalms

Prologue

The psaltery is a kind of musical instrument that resounds from its upper hole.  And, since the melody of the psalms was played on such an instrument, this whole work rightly receives its name from its instrument.  For as the psaltery resounds from the upper [hole], so, too, this whole work resounds from the upper, that is, from the praise of God.  But the intention of this work is shown to be manifold, through the diversity of the individual titles.  For now it intends to prophesy the Incarnation, Birth, Passion, Resurrection, and other acts of Christ, now the salvation of the good and the damnation of the evil, in all of which God’s praises are aimed for.  For in His passion and other works, and in the salvation of the just by His humility and mercy, in the damnation of the impious through [His] justice, praises are found to be there.  Therefore, for good reason, this book is called by the Jews “Book of Hymns,” that is, the praise of God.  For “hymns” were, properly speaking, praises of God set in verse, but “psalms” were composed in lyric verse; so Arator¹ says, The Psalter is composed of lyric feet.

So three things are to be considered, in divine as well as secular books.  For, just as secular [books] tend partly to the physical, partly to the ethical, and partly to the logical, so, too, divine [books tend] towards the physical in some spots, so that physical figures are noted in it, such as the origin of the world in Genesis, and, in Ecclesiastes, many natural things are treated mystically.  And, in some places, logical things tend toward the ethical, like the Book of Job, and Blessed the spotless (Ps 119), and some other psalms.  And in some places, logical and ethical things tend towards the theorical,² that is, towards contemplation, namely, those which contain God’s mysteries, sublime in themselves, and far from common thought, as in the Song of Songs.  In which God is introduced as speaking to the Church, like a groom to a bride, by a miraculous mystery.  So even if, in some places, this book seems to tend towards the ethical, yet it principally tends towards the theorical, especially when it tends toward the mysteries of the Incarnation, Nativity, and other acts of Christ.

Indeed, it should be understood that there are many kinds of prophecies.  For some prophecies are through deeds, like the exodus of the sons of Israel, and their other deeds, “all” of which (so says the Apostle) “occurred to them in figure” (1 Cor 10:11).  Others, through speech: as it is said that God spoke to Moses and many other prophets, through angels, of things to come.  Others, through revelation, as many things were said to have been revealed to Ezekiel and Daniel in portents of dreams.  Others, too, through the hidden inspiration of the Holy Spirit, as David [and] the prophets were intimate with the mysteries of the Lord’s Passion and other acts, not through deeds or acts or some other revelation, but through the hidden inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

It should be noted, too, that, through the excessive agility of the Holy Spirit, the prophets spoke of future things as well as present and past things.  For every future thing is present to the Holy Spirit, and is known as if it were past.  It should also be noted that, when, in the psalms, Christ is sometimes introduced as praying and acting humbly, it is to be accepted in accord with His humanity, and, when [acting] sublimely, in accord with His divinity.  It should also be noted why the first psalm lacks a title, when the others are seen to have titles, namely, because it is to be considered as the title of all the other psalms.  For when, in this psalm, there is the intention of praising Christ, it intimates that, in all the others, He is to be treated of in various ways.  For the intention of this psalm is how Christ removed those three deaths by which the first man came to death, and, on the other hand, to praise Him because of His threefold obedience, which the first man lacked.  And it is the voice considering the prophet’s damnation of the human race, because of Adam’s disobedience, and foreseeing his future reparation through Christ.  And so it says this:

[Therein follows the commentary on Psalm 1]

---

1 Arator was a 6th-century Latin poet from Liguria, best-known for a versified history of the Apostles. Remigius of Auxerre (841-908) also quotes this line of Arator's in his Explanations of the Psalms (PL 131:148A).^↩
2 St. Bruno is using is a neologism based on the Greek θεωρια (theōria), commonly used by the Greek Fathers to mean “contemplation.” Since logical and ethical originally derive from Greek roots, it seems St. Bruno wanted to continue the Grecian trend.^↩

^{Source: PL 152:637B-639C.}

Translation ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.

 

Bérulle on the Samaritan Woman (Works of Piety XII, CIII)

 As a spur to check out my recent publication of a translated book by Bérulle (the Elevation Regarding Mary Magdalene), I decided to post a few more translated snippets of Bérulle.

Bérulle's Works of Piety (in its full title, Diverse Little Works of Piety) is an enormous hodgepodge of various writings, some sermons, some letters, some spiritual exercises, some little scribbles on assorted topics.  Two of them are included as appendices in my recent book, and I've translated a few others in the past (#6, #21, and #38).  Portions of two more are published here, as both relate to today's reading, the Samaritan woman at the well, St. Photini (Jn 4).  

The first excerpt comes from Works of Piety XII, which appears to originally be a letter to a Carmelite monastery in Salims.  The first section deals with the Samaritan woman; the later sections tackle a different topic, that of the dwellings of Jesus, since the Carmelites asked Bérulle for advice about deciding where to live.  The second excerpt is the complete Works of Piety CIII: however, since the piece was left unfinished, it can still be fittingly called an "excerpt," in my view.

The word "blest" in the below excerpts is a translation of heureux.  The word can mean "happy" or "fortunate"; when compounded to bienheureux, it becomes "blessed," as in "the blessed in heaven" (a blessed object is usually béni instead).  Heureux often recalls the more colloquial sense of "blessed" in English, like "have a blessed day," "I feel blessed to have such a husband," "that was a blessed time in my life," etc.  To keep it distinct from the more specifically-religious bienheureux, I translate the latter as "blessed" and heureux as "blest."

 

Works of Piety XII

On the Samaritan, and on the Three Dwellings of Jesus: in God His Father, in Our Humanity, on the Cross

 To the Carmelite nuns of Salims

I. The grace of Jesus Christ our Lord be with you forever. The lowest things of earth have their relation to God, and we ought to contemplate the adorable excellences and perfections of His divine being, in view of and in the experience of the lowness and littleness of our miserable condition; we ought to resemble those who, in lowering their gaze to the Ocean, see there the sky and the stars that shine in that polished crystal, as in a beautiful mirror in which the lightful stars imprint their beauty, their movement, and their light. So on earth we ought to see heaven, God in us, and the Creator in the creatures; for so they have been made as so many mirrors which represent to us His admirable grandeurs, and as so many means to guide us to Him. In this thought, I take pleasure in seeing the Son of God sitting beside the well of Jacob, and contemplating, in this dead water, the living water of the Holy Spirit; I also see that He renders a poor Samaritan woman capable of the highness of His thoughts, she whom He instructs and raises from earth to heaven, from sin to grace, and from this low exercise, that of drawing water from a well, to the highest mysteries of salvation. Mysteries then hidden from the great and from the knowing ones of that very age, and reserved for this humble and vile sinner, truly humble in her condition, since she herself goes to draw water, and so far, due to her need, but even more humble in her disposition, since she bears the manifestation of her sin so sweetly, so usefully, and so patiently; truly humble and blest in the election God has made of her, notwithstanding the lowness of her condition and the vileness of her sin; humble and happy, too, in this prompt and grand use that she makes of the grace that she has blestly met without thinking of it, at that well of Jacob. Everything seems fortuitous, but everything is blest and ordained by God in this story; a blest voyage, a blest tiredness, and a blest repose of Jesus on that field of Samaria, since it gives a new repose to Jesus in this soul; blest moment for this woman lacking a bit of water, since this moment and this need makes her find the King of time and of eternity, and the living source of the water which waters heaven and earth. God chooses and waits for this poor soul without her thinking of it, without her contributing to it, and chooses her to declare the secrets of heaven, the salvation of the earth to her, and to make her an apostle to her village, which learned from her what Jerusalem could not learn from the mouth of the Son of God Himself; and, what is remarkable, this village of Samaria has learned from this woman what the twelve apostles sent into that same village had not learned, as if the Son of God had suspended the use of their apostolate in order to confer it upon this vile sinner and most-blest penitent.

 II. But this discourse would take us too far from our subject; for the moment, I only want to note the art, the care, the goodness, the industry, and the abasement of the incarnate wisdom in dealing with the Samaritan woman, and in guiding this simple and poor woman from this dead and earthly water to the living and heavenly water of the Holy Spirit...

 

Works of Piety CIII

Catechesis of the Son of God to the Samaritan Woman, and Explanation of These Words: Si scires donum Dei (Jn 4:4)

One of the excellent catecheses of the Son of God is that which He made in the countryside of Samaria at full noon, and under a burning sun, which received in heaven received its light from that sun which was on earth. This catechesis occurs between Jesus, on the one hand, and a single female, on the other, in the absence of His apostles, where the Son of God Most High and the humble Son of Mary, the Son of God Most High lowers His grandeur, He speaks to this poor woman who seeks only for water from the earth, and He speaks to her about the water of heaven, and He prepares her to find a living spring and fountain of the heavenly water itself, who, at that time, is beside that well of Jacob, the very Father and the God of Jacob, the Messiah of the Jews, the Savior of the world. This catechesis is admirable in its circumstances, in its words, in its effects, for it contains, in a few words, the highest mysteries of salvation, announced through the very salvation of a simple little woman, who thinks only of earth and seeks only the water which is at the base of that well of Jacob, which can quench her bodily thirst. And, in a moment, He draws her from error to truth, from sin to grace, from fall to salvation, and from ignorance of herself to God, and to the knowledge and adoration of the Son of God on earth, the highest and most necessary point there was on earth at that time, the mystery of the Incarnation. Mystery adored by the angels, unknown to the devil, ignored in Judea, and revealed to this poor woman, who becomes, at that very hour, the apostle of Samaria. Blest woman, to have met Jesus and to have met the spring of living water, which bedews both heaven and earth, in seeking only to fill her jar with a little water from the earth! Now, in this high and admirable catechesis, which has only the angels as witnesses, and this single woman as catechist, and only Saint John, the beloved disciple, as secretary and evangelist; all is high, all is heavenly, all is grand, all is worthy of the art and of the wisdom incarnate and hidden on earth. But there is, among others, a little words which merits to be considered, to be adored, to be penetrated by our spirits, which is when Jesus says to this woman: Si scires donum Dei [If you knew the gift of God] (Jn 4:4). For this word marks for us a sigh and a languor of the Son of God, ravished in the excellence of this truth and in sorrow over the ignorance of it in the world, so high is this truth, and so important for the salvation of the earth! And it is for us to adore the thought, the sorrow, the languor, and the sentiments of the Son of God, and to penetrate this truth which is told us in the person of this poor Samaritan woman. What low and little things we know on earth, what vanities and curiosities we seek there, and there is no higher and more useful truth than that which is proposed here—Si scires donum Dei—and because of which the Son of God has more ardor and desire for the salvation of the world! If we think, we ought to have no other drive in our spirit to peel apart this truth: Si scires donum Dei. If we speak, we ought to hae no other sentence in our mouth, in order to tell our neighbor: Si scires donum Dei. If we proclaim, we ought to proffer no other apophthegm. If we write, our pen ought to note no other truth than these words: Si scires donum Dei. Words proferred by eternal wisdom for eternal salvation, and proferred with very sorrow and languor.

In this word, the Son of God invites us to enter into knowledge, si scires [if you knew]. But to enter into the knowledge of the gift of God, and, in these two words, He invites us to know both God and the gift of God. O God! O gift of God! O knowledge! O God Most High! O most excellent gift! O most perfect knowledge, and the only one sufficient for heaven and earth! From birth, we are all professors of ignorance, for we are born without knowing God, or the world, or ourselves, or God Who has created us, or the world which bears us, or ourselves, so present and so near an object, and the most beautiful spirits make profession of not knowing these things. And if we have some knowledge of them, it is weak, it is mixed with errors and darkness, even in the most living and the grandest lights of the saints! Now, the Son of God draws us from ignorance to the knowledge of God, and of the gift of God given to His creature.

 

Source: Jean-Paul Migne, ed. Œuvres complètes de de Bérulle (Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1856), 926-927, 1119-1121.

Translation ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.

 

Book Release: "Elevation to Jesus Christ Regarding Saint Mary Magdalene" by Pierre de Bérulle

 

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I am excited to announce the release of my first book of translations: Cardinal Pierre de Bérulle's Elevation to Jesus Christ Regarding Saint Mary Magdalene.  

Bérulle (1575-1629) was a French priest, cardinal, and royal advisor.  After helping his cousin, Bl. Marie of the Incarnation (1566-1618), bring St. Teresa of Ávila's reform of the Carmelites to France, he went on to form a society for priests, the Oratory of Jesus, inspired by St. Philip Neri's Oratory.  Bérulle was a friend of St. Francis de Sales and St. Vincent de Paul, and he is considered the founder of the French School of Spirituality, whose members include, beside de Paul, St. John Eudes, Jean-Jacques Olier (founder of the Sulpicians), and St. Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort.  

Bérulle's magnum opus was the Discourses on the State and on the Grandeur of Jesus, recently published in English translation by Catholic University of America Press.  Besides this recent translation, Bérulle has had little presence in English, outside of excerpts in a volume by Paulist Press, Bérulle and the French School: Selected Writings.  I have already published a few translations of him: three of his short Works of Piety (#6, #21, and #38), and selections of the presently-translated work, the Elevation on Magdalene, in my Homiletic & Pastoral Review article "Magdalene in the Desert."  I am happy to finally have the full translation in print.

This translation includes the full Elevation on Mary Magdalene, with its dedicatory letter to Queen Henrietta Maria of England, sister of King Louis XIII of France; the Observations on the Text of Saint Luke in Favor of Magdalene, appended to most editions of the Elevation; and two of Bérulle's short Works of Piety (#100 and #101), which touch upon St. Mary Magdalene.

Both paperback ($9.99) and Kindle ($4.99) versions are available.  For a limited time, the Kindle version will be available for Kindle Unlimited subscribers to read for no extra charge.

I hope that this is just the first of many translations I will publish, of Bérulle and of other authors. 

To close, a passage from one of Bérulle's letters—which I recently came across—where he summarizes the glories of Mary Magdalene:

"Honor the saint whom the Church honors at this time, who spent thirty years without knowledge of and communication with anyone, so perfectly honoring, in this privation, the humble and voyaging life of the Son of God upon earth.  Do not let this holy time roll by without rendering some particular honor to this saint, to her love towards Jesus, to her faithfulness in following Him unto the Cross, unto the tomb, to her retreat and solitude.  For, no longer finding Jesus Christ in the world, she wills to no longer live in the world, and she retires into that desert, in order to converse with no one but Him, and to think of nothing but Him.  Oh!  What excess!  Oh!  What life!  Oh!  What a conference!  Oh!  What love of Magdalene towards Jesus in that desert!  Heaven will make you see it one day, and earth is not worthy of knowing it."

Source: Pierre de Bérulle, Letter LII, in Jean-Paul Migne, ed. Œuvres complètes de de Bérulle (Paris: J.-P. Migne, 1856),1403.

Translation of Letter Excerpt ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.  (This applies, of course, only to this letter excerpt, not to the published book referenced above.)

 

Jean Gerson: Office of the Espousals of Mary and Joseph

 Introduction

Jean Gerson (1363-1429) was a prolific and highly influential French scholar and theologian, especially while serving as the Chancellor of the illustrious University of Paris.  (I previously translated a small portion of one of his sermons on St. Nicholas, under the title "False Hopes and Immortality.")  Amidst his copious sermons and his harsh critiques of popular poems (notably the Romance of the Rose by Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun), Gerson had a special devotion to St. Joseph.  Part of this devotion included an attempt to establish a Feast of the Nuptials (or Betrothals) of Mary and Joseph.  Though Gerson's attempt failed, there eventually was a Feast of the Espousals of Mary (lacking Gerson's Josephite emphasis) which enjoyed a sizable popularity, usually celebrated on January 23.  For a history of the Feast and a discussion of its underlying theology, see Michael P. Foley, "The Feast of the Espousals of Mary and Joseph," New Liturgical Movement, January 21, 2021.

Given below is a translation of the office Gerson himself prepared; in the 1606 edition of his works, it is appended to a sermon for the Feast of St. Joseph.  (I hope to translate and post this sermon fairly soon; unlike most of Gerson's works, it is, thankfully, short.)  The order of the office says to incorporate a sequence found elsewhere in Gerson's works; I have included a translation of the full sequence here.  See the footnotes for more details.

Office of the Espousals of Mary and Joseph

Jean Gerson

Introit: “Let us all rejoice in the Lord, celebrating the feast day in honor of Joseph and Mary, in whose marriage the angels rejoice, and they together praise the son of God.”

Verse: “This is a great sacrament, but I speak of the Church and of Christ.” (Eph 5:32)

Glory etc. Glory in the highest etc.

Collect: “God, Who gave Your only-begotten to temporal parents without carnal commerce, to the just Joseph and Mary, wedded virgins, make us, we pray, through their intercession, participants in the heavenly nuptials. Through the same Lord,” etc.

Epistle: “For Sion I will not be silent, and for Jerusalem I will not be quiet, until there arises within her like splendor, and her savior is kindled like a lamp. And the nations will see your justice, and all the kings your fame. And a new name will be called to you, which the mouth of the Lord has named; and you will be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a diadem of a king in the hand of your God. You will no more be called ‘derelict,’ and your land will no more be called ‘desolate.’ But you will be called ‘my will in her,’ and your land will be inhabited, since it pleased the Lord to dwell in you. For a youth will dwell with a virgin, and your sons will dwell in you, and a husband will rejoice over his wife, and your God will rejoice over you” (Is 62:1-5).

Gradual: “You know, Lord, that I never desired man, and I preserved my soul clean from all concupiscence” (Tob 3:16).

Verse: “But I consented to receive a man because of fear of You, not because of my lust” (Tob 3:18).

Alleluia with the melody of Dulce lignum.¹ “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to accept Mary your wife, for what is born in her is of the Holy Spirit.” (Mt 1:20)

Prose. “To Joseph was sent a messenger in dreams,” etc. is placed after the end of the sermon. “But Jacob…”, as is found before in the third part of the works of Gerson.²

 

To Joseph was sent a messenger in dreams;

he spoke to the just man hoping, meanwhile,

for a nod of assent: “Do not fear,

Davidic offspring, to accept a spouse;

heavenly commands wed you to this virgin.

“To you the King of Glory joins Mary;

see how grace postulates this modest

matrimony. Believe, magnanimous one.

Hear, do not hesitate; these things are too great.

How you will sing a new Epithalamion!³

“Be conscious, if you please, that she has a son;

fulfill the commands quickly while you know the mystery;

do not reveal this; arise, tell the message

to your wife straightforth: ‘For the Lord wills this:

I promptly give myself, as husband, to you, Mary.’”

Virgin, may you receive the deposit of God,

in which may you perfect the proposed vow

with the grace of offspring; I will that you announce;

the Virgin humbly, giving thanks, returns,

therefore, the wedlock is solemnly joined.

They wed with angelic choirs singing,

the parents clasp hands with sacred joy;

they chastely dance, sweetly singing;

Hymen,⁴ drawing them to the joy, introduces

what occurs in heaven, and they are amazed.

The Virgin, quickly visiting her kin,

asks, “Joseph, do you want me to go?” He wills, and gives equally

faithful friends; secretly Elizabeth and

the infant give applause, a kind of prophet;

then the Virgin returns, gives birth, without doubts.

In Joseph see a little decorum;

Joseph gives an eye; carry, warm, refresh.

O, such glory is set in you,

which commands heaven; He serves, He obeys,

Who tempers the world—O miracles!

Tell your Son, “Now, by body’s right,

You have Your own right, agreement through strength;

You were given to my wife, the Holy Spirit

gave Himself vicariously, making the womb

of my wife pregnant with You, voluntarily, from heaven.”

Word-begetting Virgin, Virgin, font of grace,

come to us, full of mercy for our race,

and, full of vice, we plead you, virgin,

you, famed Joseph, your Son Whom we worship,

Jesus, may He placidly arrange us in joy.

O Trinity to be venerated, Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,

whom the concord of divine charity conjoined;

the mother, virgin, gave birth in an inn,

on whose breasts Jesus sucked; Joseph rejoices in service;

here a virgin serves a virgin with humble benignity.

But to the twin virgins, full of charity,

be great praise of humility; to Joseph, but to a greater virgin,

and to the offspring of deity, there is praise in the summit;

here, the throne of humility, distinct in three grades,

and likewise grace’s gift, we now extol in praises,

that, through their prayers, it be given to follow

the life of humility and, through grace, to enjoy eternal joys;

“amen” we say to each, this sacred triple union,

singing the praises of servants to the Lord, one and three.

 

And it is sung with the same tune with which this prose is sung: “He did not send the virgin any messenger…”⁵

Gospel according to Matthew: “But Joseph, arising from sleep, did as the angel ordered him, and received his wife, and did not know her, until she bore her only-begotten Son, and she called His Name Jesus.” (Mt 1:24-25)

Offertory: “The parents of Jesus took the boy to Jerusalem, that they would place Him before the Lord, and they would offer a pair of turtle-doves or two young doves.” (cf. Lk 2:22, 24)

Another offertory: “Let each one love his wife as himself, but let the wife fear her husband.” (Eph 5:33)

Secret prayer: “We venerate that virginal marriage, Lord, in which we believe Him born Who was circumcised, and presented in the Temple, and immolated on the altar of the Cross for us, our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, Who with You lives and reigns, God, through all the ages of ages.”

Preface: “And on the betrothal of the blessed...”⁶

Communion: “His father and mother were amazed at the things which were said about Him. And Symeon blessed them, saying: ‘Now You have dismissed Your servant, Lord, according to Your word, in peace. Since my eyes have seen Your salvation.’” (cf. Lk 2:29-34).⁷

Another Communion: “Whom Moses wrote of in the Law and the Prophets, we have found: Jesus, the son of Joseph of Nazareth.” (Jn 1:45)

Another Communion: “’Son, what have You thus done to us? Behold, Your father and I, sorrowing, sought You,’ and He descended with them and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them.” (Lk 2:48, 51)

Prayer after Communion: “We give You thanks, Lord, for the virginal marriage of the just Joseph and Mary, asking that we might enjoy the blessed Fruit born in it with perpetual sweetness. He Who with You lives and reigns in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, through all ages of ages. Amen.”

 

1Dulce lignum (Sweet wood) is part of the hymn Crux fidelis (Faithful Cross), drawn from the long hymn Pange lingua (Sing, tongue) by St. Venantius Fortunatus (530-609). Crux Fidelis was traditionally sung during the Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday.

2 In the third volume of Gerson’s works (1606 edition), there is a sermon on the Nativity of Mary beginning with the words, from Matthew, “But Jacob become Joseph, the man of Mary, from whom was born Jesus, Who is called…” (128-147). Before the sermon is a sequence (127-128), modeled on that previously used for the Feast of the Annunciation (see next note). I have inserted the full text of this sequence here. Ioannis Gersonii Doctoris et Cancellarii Parisiensis Tertia pars Operum… (Paris, 1606), 127-128.

3 An epithamalion is a wedding hymn.

4 Hymen is the Greek god of marriage (later adapted by Romans): a strange pick for an Office hymn.

5 Mittit ad Virginem / Non quemvis Angelum is a sequence that was formerly used for the Feast of the Annunciation. It is often attributed to Peter Abelard (1079-1142). The sequence reads: “The lover of man did not send the virgin any angel, but His strength, the archangel. May he declare for us the strong message, may make the fore-judgment of a virgin’s birth occur in nature. // May the King of glory, born, overcome nature, may He reign and rule and remove from our midst the weight of dross. May the one mighty in battle frighten the battlements of the proud, trampling, through His force, the high necks. // May He toss outside the prince of the world and may His mother be a partaker in the Father’s empire with Him. Go, you who are sent to spread these gifts, remove the veil of the old letters by virtue of the message. // Bring your message in person; say, “Hail,” say, “Full of grace,” say, “The Lord is with you,” and say, “do not fear.” Virgin, may you receive the deposit of God, in which may you perfect the proposed chastity and keep your vow. // The maiden hears and receives the message, she believes and conceives and bears a son, but admirable, counselor of the human race, and strong God, and Father of the later age, stable in faith. // Whose stability renders us stable, lest the slippery mobility of the world keep us from being partakers with Him. But may the giver of pardon, through excessive pardon, having obtained grace through the mother of glory, dwell in us.” Gerson erroneously uses the word nuncium (“messenger” or “herald”) instead of angelum (“angel”) in his reference.

6 The Roman Canon has various Prefaces for the different major feasts of the liturgical year. The Preface for feasts of Mary was the same for each of her feasts, except for one phase that specified the feast being celebrated. Gerson here gives the replacement phrase for his feast, though there is a transposal of two words: the text reads Et in te desponsatione beatæ, but, to match the Preface, it should read Et te in desponsatione beatæ. Here is how the phrase reads in the context of the Preface: “It is truly meet and just...for us to always and everywhere give You thanks...And to praise, bless, and proclaim You on the betrothal of the blessed Mary ever-Virgin...”

7 Gerson has rearranged the order of the Scriptural text; in the text of Luke, the Nunc dimittis comes before “his father and mother were amazed,” but Gerson puts vv. 29-32 (Nunc dimittis) after vv. 33-34.

 

 Source: Ioannis Gersonii, Doctoris et Cancellarii Parisiensis, Quarta pars Operum… (Paris, 1606), 222-223.

Translation ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.

Christ the Awaited Man Carries Us to the Baptismal Pool, Troubled by the Spirit

Christ is risen!

Today is the Sunday of the Paralytic, when we read the story of the pool of Bethesda, or the "Probatic Pool" (as the Douay-Rheims has it, the pool "by the Sheepgate").  It is an example of Jesus' healing miracles; it is an example of His breaking the Sabbath; it is an example of His mercy for the over-looked.  (It would be easy to read this pericope as a rebuke of "survival of the fittest": the pool only healed the one who got there first, who either was less ill or could hire faster bearers.)  Striking, though, is that odd description of the working of the pool: "For an angel of the Lord, according to season, descended into the pool and troubled the water; then the first one entering after the troubling of the water became healthy from whatever illness he had" (Jn 5:4).  Many early Greek manuscripts omit this verse, and modern translations do as well (as some also do with the stoning of the woman caught in adultery in Jn 8), but it has a long history and tradition of being included in the Scriptures.

In itself, it seems like a bit of folklore, expanding upon the paralytic's later statement about needing to enter the water once it is stirred (Jn 5:7).  Yet the fact that this folklore was incorporated into Scripture—whether by the evangelist himself or by an early editor or compiler—gives it inspired meaning, and the Fathers have sought that meaning, and they have often found it in Baptism.

It is common to refer to the Baptismal font by the name "pool," specifically, the Greek κολυμβήθρα (kolymbēthra), the same name used in this Scripture passage.  Thus, speaking of how Christ's Baptism reflected our own, St. Proklos of Constantinople says that "In the river, He sketched the pool's mystery" (Oration 2.2).  Yet some go further than this simple word, and they connect this whole pericope to Baptism.

So St. Ambrose does, in his twin works On the Sacraments and On the Mysteries.  (For a brief introduction to these works, see my recent post "St. Ambrose's Foot-Washing Rebellion.")  He finds many figures of Baptism in Scripture, the four main ones being these: in the story of Naaman being cleansed in the Jordan (2 Kgs 5), "you have one Baptism, another in the flood, you have a third kind, when the fathers were baptized in the Red Sea, you have a fourth kind in the pool, when the water was troubled" (On the Sacraments II.III.9).  (The Byzantine readings for the Vigil of Theophany include the first and third of these figures.)

All four of these, of course, involve some kind of passage through water: Naaman and the pool of Bethesda include actual immersion in the water, while the Flood and the Red Sea involve being protected from the water.  Yet the Flood has Apostolic warrant for being a prefigurement of Baptism: "in [the ark], few, that is, eight souls, were saved through water.  And the antitype, Baptism, now saves you..." (1 Pet 3:20-21).  For, though the saved were not themselves immersed in the water, yet they were saved through the water, because the water destroyed the wicked—be it all the wicked of the world (in the Flood), be it just Pharaoh and his chariots and his charioteers (in the Exodus)-—and freed the saved from their grasp.

(Other figures Ambrose finds include Elisha's submerged axe, where tossing the wooden handle into the water caused the iron to float back up (2 Kgs 6), as well as the wood tossed in the bitter water of Marah to make it sweet (Ex 15:23ff).  Both of these are also found in the Byzantine readings for the Vigil of Theophany.  On these figures, see Ambrose, On the Sacraments II.IV; on Marah, see also On the Mysteries III.14.  Interestingly, Ambrose also uses these same figures—among others—to argue for the truth of transubstantiation: see On the Mysteries IX and On the Sacraments IV.IV.)

But to return to the pool of Bethesda: although—as I mentioned in my previous post—St. Ambrose's On the Mysteries is often seen as a cliff-notes version of the longer and more developed On the Sacraments, there are sometimes differences in emphasis and interpretation between the two, and that applies in this passage.  Both apply the episode of the troubled water to the Baptismal pool, but in quite different ways.

First, the applicable passage from On the Sacraments (II.II):

"3. What was read yesterday?  'An angel,' it says, 'according to time, descended into the pool, and, whenever the angel descended, the water was troubled; and he who first descended was cured from every languor by which he was held' (Jn 5:4).  Which signifies a figure of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

4. Why an angel?  For He is the Angel of great counsel (cf. Is 9:6).  'According to time,' since He was reserved until the last hour; so that, in that setting, He would seize the day, and defer the setting.  Therefore, 'whenever the angel descended, the water was troubled.'  Perhaps you say: 'Why is it not moved now?'  Do you hear why?  A sign to the incredulous, faith to the believing (cf. 1 Cor 14:22).

5. 'He who first descended, was cured from every infirmity.'  He who is first in time, or honor?  Understand both.  If in time, he who first descended was healed before, that is, the people of the Jews before the people of the nations.  If in honor, he who first descended, that is, who had the fear of God, the study of justice, the grace of charity, chastity’s affection; he is better healed.  Yet, at that time, one was healed—at that time, I say, in figure, he who first descended, he alone was cured.  How much greater is the grace of the Church, in which all who descend are saved?

6. But see the Mystery.  Our Lord Jesus Christ came to the pool, many sick lay there.  And easily did many sick lay there, where only one was cured.  Then He said to that paralytic: Descend.  He said: I have no man (Jn 5:7).  See where you are baptized.  Whence is Baptism, except from the Cross of Christ, from the death of Christ?  There is all Mystery, since He suffered for you.  In this you are redeemed, in this you are saved.

7. I, he says, have no man; that is, since through man is death, and through man the resurrection of the dead (1 Cor 19:21).  He could not descend, he could not be saved, who did not believe that our Lord Jesus took flesh from the Virgin.  But here, he who awaited the mediator of God and men, the man Jesus Christ, expecting Him of whom it is said, And the Lord will send a man who will make you saved (Is 19:4), he said: I have no man; and, therefore, he merited to attain healing, since he believed in the One Who was to come.  Yet better and more perfect would it be, if he now believed that He Whom he hoped was to come had come."

Though there is a slight connection here between the pool of Bethseda and the Baptismal pool, the main focus is, instead, on salvation as a whole, salvation which came through Christ.  The sick who lay around the pool were waiting for an angel: though many did not know it, the one they were really waiting for was the Angel of Great Counsel, Jesus Christ.  This angel would bring salvation to all, not just to one; He would bring salvation to both Jews and Gentiles, not Jews alone.  But the sick need not just the water-troubling angel: they also needed a man to carry them down to the pool, and the real man they waited for was the "man who will make you saved," Jesus the God-Man.  (On the idea of Jesus carrying us to salvation, consider the Good Samaritan, as commonly interpreted by the Greek Fathers; the modern Christian might instead suffer the intrusive thought of the saccharine "Footsteps" poem.)  The only link to Baptism is the fact that Baptism comes through the Cross of Christ, and, thus, through Christ Himself, the angel and the man who were awaited at Bethesda.

Yet, when we turn to On the Mysteries, we find a startlingly different interpretation, one that has its eyes set like flint on Baptism.  The applicable passage from On the Mysteries (IV) reads:

"21. ...Believe that these are not empty waters.

22. Therefore, it is said to you: For angel of the Lord descended, in its time, into the swimming pool, and the water was moved, and whoever first descended into the swimming pool after the moving of the water, became healed from whatever languor he was held by (Jn 5:4).  This pool was in Jerusalem, in which one soul was healed: but no one was healed before the angel descended.  So that it would be indicated that the angel had descended, the water was moved, for the incredulous.  A sign for them, faith for you; the angel descended for them, the Holy Spirit for you; a creature was moved for them, Christ Himself, the Lord of creatures, works for you.

23. Then, one was cured, now, all are healed, or, certainly, one sole Christian people; for, in other places, there is even deceitful water (cf. Jer 15:18).  The baptism of the perfidious does not heal, nor wash, but pollutes.  The Jew baptizes pitchers and chalices (cf. Mk 7:4), as if insensible things could receive either fault or grace.  You, here, baptize your sensible chalice, in which your good works shine, in which your grace’s splendor is refulgent.  And, therefore, that pool was in figure, so that you would believe that, into the font here, divine power descends.

24. Therefore, that paralytic awaited a man (cf. Jn 5:7).  Who was that, except the Lord Jesus, born from the Virgin, by Whose advent, now, a shadow does not cure individuals, but truth cures all?  He is, therefore, the One expected to descend, of Whom God the Father spoke to John the Baptist: Over Whom you will see the Spirit descending from heaven, and remaining over Him, He is the One Who baptizes in the Holy Spirit (Jn 1:33).  Of which John testified, saying: For I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove and remaining over Him (Jn 1:32).  And why did the Spirit descend here like a dove, except so that you would see, except so that you would know that even that dove, which Noah the just sent out from the ark (cf. Gen 8:8), was the appearance of this dove, so that you would know the type of the Sacrament?

25. And perhaps you say: 'While that which was sent out was a true dove, here One "like a dove" descended: why do we say that was the appearance, this the truth, when, according to the Greeks, it is written that the Spirit descended "in the appearance of a dove"?'  But what is as true as the divinity which remains forever?  Yet a creature cannot be truth, but appearance, which is easily dissolved and changed.  Likewise, the simplicity of those who are baptized ought to be, not in appearance, but truth.  Whence the Lord also says: Be astute as serpents, and simple as doves (Mt 10:16).  Therefore, He worthily descended like a dove, so that He would admonish us that we ought to have the simplicity of doves.  But we read the appearance and are to accept it as true also about Christ—And He was found in appearance as a man (Phil 2:7)—and about God the Father—Nor have you seen His appearance (Jn 5:37)."

(First, a quick note on the wording of Jn 5:4 in §22: the generally-accepted Vulgate text of this verse uses the word piscina for "pool."  But Ambrose here—matching a 6th-century Milanese manuscript of the Vulgate—instead uses the word natatoria, related to the verb nato, "I swim."  To emphasize the distinction, I have translated it "swimming pool" here.)

We see some similarities to the treatment in On the Sacraments: the man who was awaited was Jesus; "a sign for them," the incredulous, "faith for you," the believers (cf. 1 Cor 14:22).  But, here, the Holy Spirit dominates the discussion, He Who was absent from the treatment in On the Sacraments.

The One Who "troubles the waters" of the Baptismal pool is the Holy Spirit.  (Similarly, He is the One Who "is borne above the waters" (Gen 1:2), and "Did He Who was borne above not work?  Know that He worked in that fabrication of the world..."  Likewise, He works here, when He is borne above the Baptismal pool, for this Mystery is "prefigured in the origin of the world itself."  See On the Mysteries III.9.)  By the working of the Holy Spirit and of Christ, these waters become truly saving waters.  Our Baptisms are not just meaningless washings, like the ceremonial washings performed by the Jews; nor are our waters "deceitful," so that they pollute instead of healing.  (Probably the "baptism of the perfidious" was a reference to a heretical group with invalid Baptisms, though it's possible it's a reference to the Jewish washings Ambrose discusses next: recall the infamous epithet of the "perfidious Jews" in the Roman Good Friday service.)

The expectation of the coming of Jesus is also linked to the Holy Spirit, for, in His Baptism, the Holy Spirit descended like a dove, recalling Noah's dove, and, in this recalling, making the Flood a type of Baptism.  And this "likeness," this "appearance" of a dove, does not deny the Holy Spirit's true presence, either at Jesus' Baptism or, consequently, at our own.  By His true presence, a true regeneration is effected: "If the Holy Spirit, coming upon the Virgin, worked the conception, and fulfilled the duty of generation, certainly, it is not to be doubted that, coming over the font, or over those who acquire Baptism, He works the truth of regeneration" (Mysteries IX.59).

It is only by the Spirit's coming, by the Spirit's "troubling the water," that the water becomes salvific.  "You saw the water, but not all water heals; but that water heals which has the grace of Christ.  One is the element, another the consecration: one the work, another the working.  Water is the work, the Holy Spirit’s is the working.  Water does not heal, unless the Spirit descends, and consecrates that water" (Sacraments I.V.15).  Though we do not see the Spirit descend, that does not mean He is not there.  "A sign to the incredulous, faith to the believing" (Sacraments II.II.4).  He appeared "bodily" at Christ's Baptism; He appeared much more bodily at Pentecost, in the tongues of flame, where He "willed to demonstrate Himself, even bodily, to the incredulous, that is, bodily through a sign, spiritually through a Sacrament...since, in the beginning, signs were done for the incredulous, now, for us, in the fullness of the Church, truth is to be gathered, not by a sign, but by faith" (Sacraments II.V.15).  

So, though we do not see the water moved now, we believe that the Holy Spirit works in Baptism, being borne over the waters, troubling them, when He responds to the priest's invocation, and, in this troubling, He makes the waters able to save, able to heal.  But this working of the Holy Spirit, emphasized more in the passage from On the Mysteries, does not conflict with the emphasis on Christ's role in Baptism in the passage from On the Sacraments.  "In all which we do, the mystery of the Trinity is preserved.  Everywhere is the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, one operation, one sanctification" (Sacraments VI.II.5).  For the Spirit is not separate from the Father and the Son: there is one and "the same Holy Spirit, the same Spirit of God, the same Spirit of Christ, the same Spirit Paraclete" (Sacraments VI.II.9).

In sum, Ambrose's two interpretations of the Pool of Bethseda in the context of Baptism do not conflict, but rather cooperate.  For Christ, though also the Angel of Good Counsel, is truly the awaited man who will carry the sick to the pool, "the man who will make you saved" (Is 19:4).  Before His coming, we said, like the paralytic, "I have no man"; now, we have a man, the Man-God and God-Man.  He will carry us down to that pool which is now troubled, not by an angel, but by a descending, flaming dove, by the Holy Spirit Who, being borne over the waters, works upon them.  And all is in accord with the Father's plan, the Father's blessing, the Father's prefiguring.  "Everywhere is the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, one operation, one sanctification" of this pool of ours, this "laver of regeneration" (Tit 3:5), this new and better Pool of Bethesda, open, not just "in season," but always, open, not just for "the first man," but for all men, open, not just to heal bodies, but to heal souls. 

Source: St. Ambrose's On the Mysteries can be found in PL 16:389-410, and On the Sacraments can be found in PL 16:417-462.

Text and Translations ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the author and translator.

Marco Girolamo Vida: The Lightening of Hell

 Introduction

Christ is risen!  

I intended to post this closer to Pascha, originally on Great and Holy Saturday, but it is still fitting even now.  This poem is a loose translation, close to a paraphrase, of a passage from the Christiad, a Latin epic poem by Marco Girolamo Vida (1485-1566).  Here, he represents the descent of Christ into Hades to free the souls imprisoned there; Vida's description of Hell and Satan, throughout the Christiad, was a key influence on John Milton's descriptions in Paradise Lost.  My translation is written in a kind of four-foot blank verse, an unrhymed, loosely iambic tetrameter.  (True blank verse, as in Milton, is unrhymed iambic pentameter.)  It is not perfectly metrical, but I inclined more towards closeness to the original than to metrical perfection.

There are a number of full English translations of Vida's epic; the 18th-century translations (John Cranwell, Edward Granan) are in heroic couplets; the 20th-century translations by Drake and Forbes (see Source below) and James Gardner (I Tatti Renaissance Library) are in prose. 

The Lightening of Hell

(A Paraphrase of Marco Girolamo Vida’s Christiad VI.198-221)

Behold, there comes, without delay,
Avenger of the greatest might
up to the doors, and light divine
there splendid shines.  Enormous gate,
with hundred bars of bronze, stays shut,
eternal gate.  None availed
to conquer this, no flame, no force,
no strength of hardest iron.  But here
stands God, and strikes with His right hand.
At the blow, earth, terror-struck,
quakes in every place, the stars
which wander all throughout the sky
tremble, darkness’ kingdom’s shadowed
caverns echo the sovereign boom.
From deepest vale, with horrid march,
in haste, light-fliers’ brothers’ band
comes forth, in fear of sound—
human in form unto the groin
and dragons from there—and with unwonted
roar they shout, and dire fire
flows from out their jaws, and all
the house is wrapped in smoke of pitch.
At once the doors are open—behold!—
suddenly the posts from hinges spring,
shaken, shattered by their own will.
Within the house all seems confused,
and, round the highest atria,
the darkness shrinks, and once-blind night
recedes.  For God, thus so beheld,
blinding eyes within the halls
obscure, shines with light divine.
And as a gem in royal chambers,
imitating fire’s glow,
gleams with splendor in the night,
and blackest darkness puts to flight,
and all the place with largesse clothes,
casting round its crimson light—
so is God in Satan’s halls.

Source: Marco Girolamo Vida, The Christiad: A Latin-English Edition, ed. and tr. Gerturde C. Drake and Clarence A. Forbes (Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1978), 250.

Translation ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.

Bowels of Mercy

The heart is the metaphorical center of man's emotions: when he speaks "from the heart," he is saying what is truest to him, what he really feels.  When we listen to "what the heart says," we are listening to those deep feelings that we really hold, but which we might try to avoid (our subconscious, if we want to speak psychologically).  When we "pour out our heart," we are unleashing the feelings we normally keep under wraps.  It is fitting that the Lord Who knows all--even our deepest thoughts and feelings--would be described as the "heart-knower" (καρδιογνωστης) (Acts 1:24, 5:8).

So it is in English, at least.  But other languages have other metaphors, other arrangements of bodily functions.  Thus Hebrew, and often Greek, finds the seat of emotions in another place: the bowels.

We have many English names for what is buried in our abdomen: bowels, guts, innards, entrails, viscera, inner organs, etc.  They generally all refer to the same thing: that mess of organs and tissues and blood hidden beneath our belly-skin.  At first, it might sound disgusting to find the seat of our emotions there, in that bloody mess, but don't forget what the heart--the true heart, not the scalloped symbol of Valentine's Day candy--is like: a bloody mass of muscle, with tubes and veins all over.

Further thought finds that the bowels are not absent from English feelings either.  When we "have a bad feeling about this," it's not generally a feeling in our heart or in our head: it's a feeling in our guts.  It's a "sinking in our stomach."  (Though it can also include a creeping on our skin and goosebumps.)  When we feel oddly confident about something, we say that it's a "gut feeling."  Something that we revile makes us "sick to our stomach."  

Most of these bowel-feelings in English are negative, with the notable exception of a confident "gut feeling."  But in Hebrew and Greek, the feelings are many, and the most striking--to me--is what is simply known as "good-bowels" (ευσπλαγχνια, eusplagchnia).

One of the oldest known Marian prayers is the one typically known by its Latin title, Sub tuum praesidium, "Beneath your protection."  Latin was not its origin, though: the earliest form is found in Greek, in a Coptic liturgical text.  (The Coptic language itself is originally a liturgical amalgam of Demotic Egyptian and Greek, and Coptic liturgical texts often borrow Greek words, phrases, or even whole prayers without alteration.)    In that form--still prayed in Byzantine Churches around the world--we do not flee to Mary's "protection," but rather to her "compassion" or "mercy," or--more literally--her "good bowels" (ευσπλαγχνια).

These "good-bowels" mean that one's deepest feelings toward another are good, in a full sense.  Greek has other words in this sphere: συμπαθεια (sympatheia) is the origin of "sympathy," that "suffering-with" that is the exact same etymological meaning as "compassion"; ελεος (eleos) is the general term for "mercy," which Greek writers constantly relate to its near-homonym ελαιος (elaios), "oil," so that mercy is like pouring cleansing, healing oil on wounds.  We Byzantines constantly pray for the Lord's mercy, for His ελεος (sharing a root with the imperative ελεησον, eleison), but we also often speak of the Lord's great ευσπλαγχνια.  Perhaps we might (tentatively) say that ελεος is more active, more related to the work of mercy, whereas ευσπλαγχνια is more of a state of being, a condition, though one that necessarily flows forth into action. 

So, as the Romans celebrated Divine Mercy Sunday, we can all recall the All-Merciful Lord and the deep compassion He has for us, the deep goodness of His bowels towards us, and also the compassion of His Mother, in which we take refuge, she who is the tongs holding the "noetic coal taking flesh from you...burning up the woody sins of all mortals, and Goddenning"--or, more Latinately, "divinizing"--"our nature through His compassion" (Pentecostarion, Sunday of the 5th Week, Canon of the Samaritan Woman, Ode 8).  

May He ever have compassion for us, He Who is the Lover of Mankind.

Text ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the author.

The Exultet of the Ambrosian Rite

 Introduction

Translated here is the opening of the Paschal Vigil in the Ambrosian Rite, which begins after the chanting of the Ninth Hour on Holy Saturday.   My translation is based on the scanned missal pages included in Nicola de Grandi, "Easter in the Ambrosian Rite -- Part II," 4/04/2010, https://www.newliturgicalmovement.org/2007/03/further-notes-on-ambrosian-rite.html.  I'm not sure what the source is for de Grandi's scanned pages, but the text seems generally identical to that found in the 1640 Missale Ambrosianum, pp. 145-157 of the second paginated section, though I have not compared every line.  De Grandi's article gives an overview of the whole Paschal Vigil in the Ambrosian Rite; the ceremonies translated below stop before the Scripture readings.

Let the angelic crowd of the heavens now exult:
let the divine mysteries exult,
and, because of such a King’s victory, let the trumpet of salvation sound.
Let the earth, irradiated by splendors, rejoice so much,
and, lustered by the eternal King’s splendor, let the whole globe feel the gloom depart.
Let Mother Church delight too, adorned with the splendor of such light,
and let this hall resound with the great voices of the peoples.
Wherefore, you who stand, beloved brethren, in the so wondrous clarity of this holy light,
one with me, I beseech you, invoke the mercy of the Almighty God.
So that He Who deigned to gather me among the number of Levites, not by my merits,
infusing the grace of His light, would begin to complete the praise of this Candle.
With the aid of our Lord Jesus Christ His Son,
living and reigning with Him, God, in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
through all the ages of ages. Amen.

℣: The Lord be with you.

℟: And with your spirit.

℣: Lift up your hearts.

℟: We lift them up to the Lord.

℣: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

℟: It is right and just.

It is right and just, indeed, it is truly right and just, fitting and saving, for us, here and everywhere, to give You thanks, holy Lord, Father Almighty, eternal God. Who declared that the Pascha of all peoples would be [offered], not with the cattle’s blood or fat, but with the Body and Blood of Your Only-Begotten, our Lord, Jesus Christ, so that, supplanting the rite of the ungrateful nation, grace would succeed the law, and one victim, once offered by itself to Your Majesty, would expiate the offense of all the world. This is the Lamb prefigured in the stone tablets, not led forth from the flocks, but sent forth from heaven, not lacking a shepherd, being being Himself the Good Shepherd Who lays down His soul for His sheep and takes it up again, so that the divine deigning would show us humility, and the bodily resurrection, hope. Who, before the shearer, did not send out a cry of bleating complaint, but proclaimed with evangelic oracle, saying: “Henceforth you will see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of majesty.” Let Him reconcile us and You, Father Almighty, and grant it, supported by a majesty equal with You. For what reached the fathers in figure comes to us in truth.

Here the Subdeacon bears the lamp lit with the new fire into the Choir. Then the Deacon lights the great Candle, and two other candles; immediately there follows:

Behold, now the column of fire shines, which goes before the people, in the time of the blessed night, to the saving streams, in which the persecutor is submerged, and [from which] Christ’s people emerge liberated. For, conceived by the wave of the Holy Spirit, born to death through Adam, it is reborn to life through Christ. Let us therefore unloose the voluntarily-celebrated fasts, for Christ our Pascha is sacrificed; let us not only feast on the Body of the Lamb, but let us also be inebriated by His Blood. For let the drinkers not believe that His Blood is propitiation,¹ but [rather] salvation. Let us also eat of this unleavened bread, too, for man does not live on bread alone, but on every word of God. Indeed, this is the bread which descended from heaven, far more wondrous than that frugal-flowing dew of manna, having feasted upon which, Israel then perished. He who feeds on this true Body, becomes a possessor of perennial life. Behold, the old have passed away: all things are made new. For the sword’s point of Mosaic circumcision is now dulled, and the sharp bitterness of the stones of Joshua [son] of Nun² has grown old; truly, Christ’s people are signed on the forehead, not on the groin, with the wash, not with the wound, with Chrism, not with bloodshed.

Here the Deacon sticks five grains of incense into the Candle, in the shape of a Cross.

Therefore, it is fitting, on this arrival of the evening resurrection of our Lord and Savior, for us to burn wax instead of fat, whose heat it accords with in appearance, sweetness in scent, splendor in light, which does not flow with wasting liquor, nor exhale the offense of foul stench. For what is more befitting and more festive than that we keep watch³ over Jesse’s flower with flowers and torches? Especially when even Wisdom sings of herself, “I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valley.”⁴ Therefore, the burnt-up pine does not sweat wax, nor does the wounded cedar with close-knit two-edge branches weep with it, but its creation is a secret of virginity, and they grow white through the transfiguration of snow’s whiteness. Truly, the liquid wave of the reeds’ font produces it, which, an image of the innocent soul, is divided into no interwoven joints, but, enclosed in virginal matter, the nursling of rivulets is hospitable to fires.⁵ Therefore, it is fitting to meet the coming of the Bridegroom with the sweet lamps of the Church, and, having received the largesse of holiness, to think of how much the gift of devotion avails, to not interrupt the holy watches with darkness, but to wisely prepare a torch with perpetual lights, lest, while candle-oil is added, we approach the coming of the Lord with a late service, He Who will certainly come in the blink of an eye, like lightning.⁶

Here the lamps are lit, and the other lights of the Church.

Therefore, in the evening of this day, all the fullness of the venerable sacrament is gathered together, and those things which were prefigured or done in various times are supplied in the unfolding of the course of this night. For, first, this evening light comes forth, like that star leading the Magi. Then follows the wave of mystical regeneration, that is, the Lord granting it,⁷ the streams of Jordan. Third, the apostolic voice of the Priest announces the Resurrection of Christ. Then, to fulfill the whole mystery, the crowd of the faithful is fed on Christ. May the day of the Resurrection of the Lord be thus undertaken,⁸ sanctified by the prayer or merits of Your high Priest and Archbishop Ambrose, with Christ making everything prosper. Through Your good and blessed Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, with Whom, blessed, You live and reign, God, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, through all the ages of ages. Amen.

Then the Deacon sprinkles [holy water] and lights the Candle. 

 

1Piaculum refers to some means of appeasing a deity, such as a sin-offering or a propitiatory sacrifice.

2In Jos 5:2, the Lord commands Joshua to circumcise the Israelites a second time with “stony knives” (cultros lapideos) or “flint knives” (RSV-CE).

3Excubo originally has the sense of “camping out” of “sleeping outside”; thus the watch being kept here is an outdoors one.

4Sgs 2:2.

5I confess that I had trouble fully understanding these two sentences, especially with their heavily poetic nature. The prayer seems to be explaining the origin of the wax used: it does not come from pines or cedars, but from reeds (papyrum). Reeds grow singular and straight, not jointed like a tree’s branches; I think that is what is meant by it being “divided into no interwoven joints” (nullis articulatur sinuata compagibus). Being singular, a reed is virginal, and an image of an innocent soul—consider Kierkegaard’s Purity of the Heart Is to Will One Thing, and St. James’ rebuke of the “double-souled” (Jas 1:8).

6Here is an interesting twist on the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins. In Jesus’ parable, the wise are those who have oil, and the foolish must go buy some. Here, even having oil is foolish, because it takes time to refill the lamp with oil, and this causes a delay. Instead, the truly wise have wax candles instead, which, lit once, never need to be refilled. That way, there will be no “late service” (tardo...obsequio).

7Dignante Domino.

8More literally, this phrase should be worded, “Let this”—what was just discussed—”undertake the day of the Lord’s Resurrection” (Quae...Resurrectionis Dominicae diem...suscipiat).

Translation ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.