Lo, How A Rose E'er Blooming

Sunday, December 22, 2013
"Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming"

This is officially becoming a bad habit.  It's one thing to forget the nightly blogs, considering I only have two more days of Advent anyway, but what is with forgetting to pray before going to sleep last night?  Tonight and Thursday night it felt like I only remembered any of it by the skin of my teeth.  I guess that's what habit is for -- the process of getting ready for bed (usually) reminds me.

But I'd like to remember on my own.

"Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" was sung this morning at St. Jerome's Catholic Church -- this big, airy but welcoming church near Haley and Cameron's where I've been before (despite my problems with the namesake's doctrines and writings).  The tune is just as difficult and annoying to sing as it looked at a glance in the book, which is why I have resisted all the impulses that suggested it as the song for the day in the morning.

The first verse is all tied up in elaborately establishing the simple metaphor of the title (not a hard one to riddle out, but written prettily enough).  The second verse gets a little more depth to it:

Isaiah 'twas foretold it,
This Rose I have in mind,
With Mary we behold it,
The Virgin Mother kind.
To show God's love a right,
She bore us a Savior,
When half spent was the night.

It's kind of choppy in its desire to cover all the main bases of the story, but it hits the important points.

My favorite, however, is the last:

O Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispel in glorious splendor
The darkness everywhere;
True man, yet very God,
From sin and death now save us
And share our every load.

It's actually in the opposite order of a lot of other songs that bring up the message -- Advent first this time: what will happen in the Second Coming or through the Holy Spirit in our individual lives as soon as we ask.

This weekend, a friend and I discussed our very different versions of a religious experience, and I couldn't read her look when I leapt on her attempt to find words for a glorious feeling of believing in something wonderful out there to explain I feel that every time about the Eucharist.  I admitted that it's only (almost only) when I'm paying attention, and I can hardly claim I have never been distracted even for an entire Mass, but yes.  I experience heaven for fifteen minutes every Sunday.  Which is why I don't find a denomination that would let me be a pastor.  Which is why I am dedicated to going to Mass even when I'm traveling.

Because sweetness fills the air and the darkness is dispelled by glorious splendor -- not just resetting back to neutral, going in the other direction to glorious.

The second part goes into the miracle of Christmas (which despite the other songs does seem the proper order): True man, yet very God.  I've tried a lot before and bemoaned earlier in this Advent season that words don't seem to want to go to what a big, amazing deal that is.  Bigger to me, somehow, than "From sin and death now save us / And share our every load" even though I know that the first was in order to do the second.  Somehow the inexplicable act of love is just...

But plainly stated in that way might be the right road.  I make do now with the big statement, fumbling words, and a pause where I make a lot of expressions with my face to encourage my audience to think about it.

And tortured allusions to "House of Asterion" if we're talking about my literature class.

In three days, we celebrate when God became man.  Think about it.  Really.

And enjoy the magic in the air and splendor replacing the darkness.