Tuesday, December 15, 2015

O Eve

I first posted this in 2010, and expressed a hope that a recording of the song would be released soon. I recently heard from the composer, Frank La Rocca, that it is now available for purchase at Amazon as a track on the album Winter Waves. Check it out, especially if you love Advent hymns, traditional sacred music, or just gorgeous choral music! (If one of the last two, you might also like to take a look at his album In This Place.) 

Prints of the illustration and poem are also available from the sisters!

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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.

O Eve!

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
Forever
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.

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