New Liturgical Movement recently posted a translation that I did of O Redemptor, sume carmen, the hymn for the procession of the holy oils at the Chrism Mass, at the request of Father Samuel Weber. The Latin of the hymn has some wonderful wordplay that I found impossible to capture, but it didn’t turn out too bad.
I had another dream last night wherein I was speaking Latin. This time, however, it was not because I had traveled through time somehow. Rather, I was part of a large liturgical service and had to read something from the Lectionary (in English), but the pages in the book were stapled together in strange ways and I couldn’t find the right place. So, I told the MC (it was a big liturgy of some kind): Non possum invenire locum aptum so that others would not find out about the problem. When he came over, I said something like (my memory is a bit fuzzy on this part) [Quaesivi]? lectiones aptas … non viderem. I don’t remember what I was trying to convey on this second point, just that I apparently thought I needed to use the subjunctive.
Obviously with full consciousness, I hope I would have used better Latin.
Advent is my favorite season of the Church year. The sense of expectation and longing for the arrival of Jesus Christ needs to be emphasized. It reminds me of how privileged we are to live in the time of the New Covenant. Generations of people longed for the coming of Christ into the world, (cf. Mt 13:17) but we live in the time of the fulfillment of that promise. Our participation in their waiting leads us to be more grateful for what Jesus has done for us out of pure graciousness. We also look forward to the end of the age and the return of Christ in glory. We look forward to our own death.
Advent also has some of the best music in the Church’s treasury of sacred music. Music for the Divine Office (e.g., the Conditor alme siderum or the O Antiphons) and the antiphons for Mass and other hymns, such as Rorate caeli, intertwine the themes of Advent with fitting musical expressions. We have some great English adaptations of this music as well, such as O Come, O Come Emmanuel or Creator of the Stars of Night.
Father Samuel Weber, director of the Institute of Sacred Music for the Archdiocese of St Louis, who resides at Kenrick Seminary, recently asked me to translate two Advent hymns: Verbum salutis omnium and Magnis prophetae vocibus from the Liturgy of the Hours. I always enjoy translating such things for Father Weber, and it’s a spiritually edifying challenge to render as closely as possible the meaning of the words in English while achieving something that is singable (and rhymes).
Below are my adaptations of these hymns for singing in English.
First, Verbum salutis omnium:
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Verbum salutis omnium, Patris ab ore prodiens, Virgo beata, suscipe casto, Maria, viscere. Te nunc illustrat cælitus Hæc est sacrati ianua Olim promissus vatibus, Lætentur simul angeli, Sit, Christe, rex piissime, |
The Savior of all men, the Word, Who from the Father’s mouth proceeds, Within your womb, O Virgin blest, We humbly beg you to receive. The Spirit overshadows you, Behold the sacred temple’s gate, Of old the prophets held his pledge; Let angels then exult as well To you, O Christ, our gracious king, |
Second, Magnis prophetae vocibus:
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Magnis prophetae vocibus venire Christum nuntiant, laetae salutis praevia, qua nos redemit, gratia. Hinc mane nostrum promicat Adventus hic primus fuit, At nos secundus praemonet Aeterna lux promittitur Te, Christe, solum quaerimus |
With mighty voice the prophets cry: “The coming of the Christ is nigh!” His path made straight by saving grace Through which he has redeemed our race. So, here our morning glimmers bright, This Advent was his sacred birth; The second Advent we await Eternal splendor is made known; You, Christ, alone we strive to see, |
I’m a big fan of the organic development of the liturgy. I think it’s often very important to keep things that started out serving a practical purpose but eventually developed into part of the liturgy itself, taking on a theological meaning in the process. (For example, the dismissal: Ite, Missa est or Flectamus genua or the amice.) These details, even if they don’t seem necessary any more, still have their theological meaning and also connect us with the past.
I wonder sometimes whether the “extra-liturgical” things that have become common would, given a few centuries, ever be codified as part of the liturgy itself.
If things continue to develop without intervention, would the rubrics eventually include an instruction for the deacon to turn to the people after the announcements and give a monition to show a sign of appreciation for the choir? Relatis notitiis, diaconus ad populum conversus dicit Plaudite choro et sequitur plausus.) Would there be a vesting prayer for the wireless microphone? Would the extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion be required to process into the sanctuary in discreet groups, each group indicating to the congregation that X more are still needed, until all positions are filled?
Interesting thoughts.
I found this in Notitiae today (Not. 1 (1965) p. 190):
In << Ordinario Missae >> sicut in tota liturgia, inveniuntur aliquando formualae mixtae in persona plurali et in persona singulari. Haec varietas explicatur sive ex rationibus historicis, sive ex eo quod formulae sunt textus biblici, qui nequeunt mutari. Cum tales textus momentum habeant pro tota Ecclesia, et non tantum pro una alterave regione, instauratio generalis statuet an mutandi, substituendi vel omittendi sint, vel quaenam et quonam modo mutationes sint faciendae. Pro momento textus receptus fideliter tenendus et in linguas vernaculareas vertendus est. Ita, exempli gratia, textus biblici: << Ad Deum qui laetificat iuventutem meam >>, et << Domine, exaudi orationem meam >> haud verti possunt quasi dicerent: << iuventutem nostram, orationem nostram >>.
Idem dicendum de verbo Credo, quod nullo modo lingua vulgari reddi potest, quasi legeretur Credimus: esset mutatio conceptualis de qua iudicare et statuere debet << Consilium >>.
My translation:
In “The Ordinary of the Mass,” just as in the whole liturgy, formulae are sometimes found to be mixted in the plural and in the singular. This variety can be explained either by historical reasons or by the fact that the formulae are biblical texts, which cannot be changed. Since such texts are important for the whole Church and not only for one or another region, the general restoration should determine whether they should be changed, substituted, or omitted, and which changes should be made and in what way. For the moment, the received text must be faithfully retained and translated into the vernacular languages. So, for example the biblical texts, “To God who gives joy to my youth,” and “O Lord, hear my prayer” can scarcely be rendered as if they said: “our youth, our prayer.”
The same must be said of the word I believe, which in no way can be rendered in a common language, as if it read We believe: This would be a conceptual change about which the Consilium shoud decide and stipulate.
July 6 was the memorial of St Maria Goretti, a young girl who died because of injuries sustained defending herself against a rapist. She prayed for his conversion and appeared to him in prison after her death. He later converted and became very devout.
I noticed in the elogia in the Liturgia horarum on her day the following line:
Die 6 iulii 1902, ad castitatem tutandam contra aggressorem, mori maluit quam foedari et pugionis ictibus confossa est.
My translation:
On 6 July 1902, for the sake of protecting her chastity against an aggresor, she preferred to die rather than to be defiled and was struck with blows from a dagger.
The phrase mori maluit quam foedari is drawn from an old axiom. Interestingly, the ermine was considered in the middle ages to be a symbol of purity because it was believed that it would rather die than suffer its white coat to be stained. This is a reason that prelates in the Church and also other nobles, kings, etc. would wear ermine.
Sorry I didn’t get around to posting this until now.
I finally got my new license plates.
Who (not my brother) can guess what it means?
So, I was reading the Aeneid last night, and I came across these lines in Book IV (ll. 515-516):
quaeritur et nascentis equi de fronte revulsus
et matri praereptus amor …
My translation:
The love [charm] also sought that was plucked away from the forehead of a foal before the mother could seize it first.
Wait a minute, I thought. This idea that horses are born with something on their foreheads that their mothers eat or lick away sounded familiar. Did I read that in the Etymologies the other day? Hmmm… A quick check in the Medieval Bestiary online indicates that I had recently read it in Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis historia:
in hoc genere gravida stans parit praeterque ceteras fetum diligit. et sane equis amoris innasci veneficium, hippomanes appellatum, in fronte, caricae magnitudine, colore nigro, quod statim edito partu devorat feta aut partum ad ubera non admittit.
My translation:
The pregnant [mare] gives birth, in general, standing and above others loves her child. For it is characteristic of horses, also, to be born with a love potion, called hippomanes, on their forehead, the size of a fig and black in color, that the mother immediately devours after giving birth or else she does not allow her offspring to approach her breasts.
When there is to be a children’s liturgy of the word at Solemn Mass, a subdeacon, vested in tunicle but without maniple, processes in before the priest, deacon, and subdeacon. At a Sung Mass or a Low Mass, a lector may take the place of the subdeacon.
After the collect, the subdeacon of the children’s liturgy removes his tunicle and vests in a cope.
When the subdeacon of the Mass approaches the priest with the Epistularium, the other subdeacon approaches with the Epistularium ad parvulos. Both subdeacons kneel next to one another and receive the priest’s blessing.
As the subdeacon of the Mass turns to his proper place, the subdeacon of the children’s liturgy proceeds to the altar rail, accompanied by an acolyte with lighted candle.
When they reach the altar rail, the children of the parish who lack the use of reason approach two by two (bini et bini) and genuflect. They remain standing in formation as the subdeacon of the children’s liturgy leaves the sanctuary with the acolyte.
The priest turns, having begun the epistle at the altar, turns and gives a blessing.
The children genuflect with the subdeacon and proceed to the place where the children’s liturgy is to be held.
