An entry from 2008, when I first experienced the artworks described. I keep hoping to hear that Frank La Rocca, the composer of the musical piece, has released a recording on CD--I have heard that one is in the works.
I can't express the depths to which this resonates with me, in me. I'm only just now noticing the reverberations in my soul--which, I think, is an echo of the song's own development: an unpretentious progression of talents outpoured, until suddenly you realize that your breath has been taken away, and breathing deeply again you are refreshed and a little bit shaken.
First, I read about a card. I don't know if the picture came first or the poem, but both were original works sent out as a Christmas greeting by the Trappistine nuns at Our Lady of the Mississippi Abbey. When I first came upon them over at The Anchoress I thought the picture was a nice, bright drawing and the poem was a nice, well-written verse.
A simple image, but loaded with meaning.
A short, graceful verse about two mothers, two daughters, an ancient idea but new.
My mother, my daughter, life-giving Eve,
Do not be ashamed, do not grieve.
The former things have passed away,
Our God has brought us to a New Day.
See, I am with Child,
Through whom all will be reconciled.
O Eve! My sister, my friend,
We will rejoice together
Life without end.
Then I started studying them. I noticed details in the picture, like the snake coiled around both of Eve's feet but crushed under Mary's. The arch of pear tree limbs like a church window, heavy with fruit. The many other signs of Eve's shame--head bent, the clutched apple, nakedness barely covered--and the hand outstretched to touch her hope within Mary's grace-clothed, grace-filled body. Very intellectually satisfying.
And then I heard this.
You know what they say about music, that it is the language of the angels and of the divine, that it is a form of prayer in itself, that it gives us a sense of the infinite. I think my favorite is by Sidney Lanier:
"Music is love in search of a word."
When I heard this piece, for four minutes I felt that I was Eve, and all my years of sorrow were at an end, and a gentle hand was leading me out of a thicket of thorns into daylight.
Advent is here--but some people might have a hard time looking forward to Christmas, even if they don't know it or understand why. Some people have a problem with a God who is so intimate. Some might struggle with despair--with accepting forgiveness, or trusting it. Some of these things I understand, and I know and trust that God has a way to touch these people with his healing love.
For me, I think when my dark night of the soul comes, I will sit in the dark and listen to this and cry for joy.