On the eve of the Sabbath in most Jewish homes from the time of Jesus to the present, several simple acts bind those who have gathered together. As the sun drops below the horizon, candles are lit. A blessing is spoken over the gift of the light and over the bread and wine that sustain us and bring joy to life. Gratitude is expressed for “having reached this day.” And then, with ease of movement that comes from the tradition of generations, the father or mother or elder moves slowly around the table placing her hands on the head of each child and praying the benediction: “May God bless you and keep you. May God make his face to shine upon you and give you his peace.” The name of the child flows lovingly off the tongue, finding its natural place in the midst of the blessing. Christians have often heard these words as the final blessing when they gather for worship. Some have heard these simple words as the hands of a loving one was placed on their head, just before sleep, perhaps, or at a time of departure, of marriage, birth, or dying. They are words of regard that enlarge our heart and deepen our sense of the wonder of being. Words that open a wellspring of meaning, unspoken.
They brought children to him to lay his hands on them with prayer. The disciples rebuked them, but Jesus said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not try to stop them; for the kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.” And he laid his hands on the children, and went his way.
—Matthew 19:13–14
John O’Donohue (1956–2008), former Irish Catholic priest, poet, author, philosopher, and lecturer known for his work in popular Celtic spirituality invites us to a “fresh well”:
“It would be infinitely lonely to live in a world without blessing. The word blessing evokes a sense of warmth and protection; it suggests that no life is alone or unreachable.
“ . . . While our culture is all gloss and pace on the outside, within it is too often haunted and lost. The commercial edge of so-called ‘progress’ has cut away a huge region of human tissue and webbing that held us in communion with one another. We have fallen out of belonging. Consequently, when we stand before crucial thresholds in our lives, we have no rituals to protect, encourage, and guide us as we cross over into the unknown.
“ . . . In the parched deserts of modernity a blessing can be like discovery of a fresh well. It would be lovely if we could rediscover our power to bless one another. I believe each of us can bless.”
—John O’Donohue, (1956-2008). To Bless the Space Between Us.
Mikhail Nesterov, (1862–1942) the precursor of Russian Symbolist art, conceived the cycle devoted to St. Sergius of Radonezh (circa 1314–1392) during his travels through Italy and France. Inspired by Jules Bastien-Lepage’s Joan d’Arc (1879), Nesterov decided to execute a painting devoted to one of the most significant Russian Orthodox Saints. His cycle of artworks consists of fifteen pieces depicting key moments from the life of Venerable Sergius, whose baptismal name was Bartholomew. The artist imagined the founder of The Trinity Lavra (monastery) as a young boy awakening to a vocation of service where we come to know him as a spiritual leader and monastic reformer. Christ Blessing Bartholomew depicts the mystical appearance of Christ to the adolescent Bartholomew. The moment of blessing unfolds against a meager Russian landscape with grey village log houses under the cold autumnal sky. The ashberry tree with fallen leaves is juxtaposed to a fragile figure of the boy, who is looking into the depth of Christ’s eyes recognizing that he is a chosen one. The figure of Christ is strong in contrast to the almost levitating Bartholomew. Only the geese in the right corner (the folkloric messengers of the eternal), reminding the viewer that miracles, the awakening to wonder, happen in everyday life.
The Lamb
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life and bid thee feed,
By the stream & o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
making all the vales rejoice!
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Little Lamb I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb I’ll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he called himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
—William Blake, (1757-1827)
Blessed by Name
Have you ever met child with a hole in her heart? A child that had never been blessed, or knew what it meant to live as a blessed one? A child that feared he was not welcome in the world? Were you that child? Are there children you know, children you meet who struggle with this particular emptiness? Do you have words of blessing or gestures of blessing? The ancients cultivated the capacity for giving and receiving blessing. For them, calling the name of a person evoked blessing. It deepened the wonder, the fragility of life.
Psalm 131
“Psalm 131.” John Michael Talbot, Troubadour for the Lord, Sparrow 1996. Track 17.
Unless you acquire the heart of a child, you shall not enter the kingdom of God.
O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor haughty my eyes.
I have not gone after things too great nor marvels beyond me.
Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace.
A weaned child on its mother’s breast, even so is my soul.
0 Israel, hope in the Lord both now and forever.
Gospel
The Orlando Consort, a medieval music ensemble, and Perfect Houseplants, a jazz ensemble, set themselves the task of composing a mass setting based on the L’homme armé melody, a melody used as a cantus firmus for mass settings by many composers of the High Middle Ages and Renaissance. The various movements of this modern mass setting use compositional methods, improvisational techniques and harmonic language idiomatic to both styles to create a remarkable fusion of forms separated by several centuries. (Also featured at 6. in section 3.)
“Gospel.” Dudley Philips, Huw Warren, Martin France, Extempore II: A Modern Mass for the Feast of St. Michael based on the medieval melody L’homme armé, Donald Grieg, baritone, Orlando Consort, Perfect Houseplants, Harmoni mundi 2002. Track 10.
In illa tempore accesserunt discipuli ad Iesum dicentes: Quis putas maior est in regno coelorum? Et advocans Iesus parvulum, statuit eum in medio eorum, et dixit: Amen dico vobis: nisi conversi fueritis, et efficiamini sicut parvuli, non intrabitis in regnum coelorum. Quicumque ergo humiliaverit se sicut parvulus iste, hic est maior in regno coelorum. Et qui susceperit unum parvulum talem in nomine meo, me suscipit.
Qui autem scandalizaverit unum de pusillis istis, qui in me credunt, expedit ei, ut suspendatur mola asinaria in collo eius, et demergatur in profundum maris. Vae mundo a scandalis. Necesse est enim ut veniant scandala; verumtamen vae homini illi, per quem scandalum venit.
Si autem manus tua, vel pes tuus scandalizat te, abscide eum, et proice abs te: bonum tibi est ad vitam ingredi debilem vel claudum, quam duas manus, vel duos pedes habentem mitti in ignem aeternum. Et si oculus tuus scandalizat te, erue eum, et proice abs te: bonum tibi est cum uno oculo in vitam intrare, quam duos oculos habentem mitti in gehennam ignis.
Videte ne contemnatis unum ex his pusillis; dico enim vobis quia angeli eorum in caelis semper vident faciem Patris mei, qui in coelis est.
At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.
“If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. Woe to the world because of stumbling blocks! Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to the one by whom the stumbling block comes!
“If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life maimed or lame than to have two hands or two feet and to be thrown into the eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into the hell of fire.
“Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones; for, I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father in heaven.” Matthew 18:1–10 (NRSV)
The Prayer of the Children
“The Prayer of the Children.” Kurt Bestor, Baylor University Men’s Choir, 2013.
Can you hear the prayer of the children?
On bended knee in the shadow of an unknown room.
Empty eyes with no more tears to cry,
turning heav’nward toward the light.
“Christ Jesus help me to see the morning light one more day,
but if I should die before I wake, I pray my soul to take.”
Can you feel the hearts of the children,
aching for home for something of their very own.
Reaching hands with nothing to hold on to,
but hope for a better day, a better day.
“Christ Jesus help me to feel the love again in my own land,
but if unknown roads lead away from home,
give me loving arms, way from harm.”
Can you hear the voice of the children?
Softly pleading for the silence of the shattered world.
Angry guns preach the gospel full of hate,
blood of the innocent on their hands.
“Christ Jesus help me to feel the sun again on my face,
for when darkness clears I know your near, bringing peace again.”
Can you hear the prayer of the children?
Christ Blessing Bartholomew, (St. Sergii of Radonezh), 1890. Mikhail Nesterov, 1862–1942.
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