Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.
It is the poet’s wedding when God is Word, and Word is unspoken breath.
It is the deaf priest who hears of the love by watching the lips –
I – Open in anticipation
Love – tongue to teeth, then open, then touch of the lips
You – lips for kiss, shared breath with another
“We celebrate fertility rites — erotica – it is called by some, and just that word itself evokes a poetic pleasure.” Thus speaks this priest for all, without boundaries, as she reads poetry from an ancient book that speaks, in part of the pagan deities of fertility.
“Garden fountain, a well of living water,
And flowing streams from Lebanon.
Awake, O north wind,
And come, O south wind!
Blow upon my garden,
Let its fragrance be wafted abroad
Let my beloved come to his garden,
And eat its choicest fruits.” [Song of Songs 4:15-5:1a]
As she reads the lengthy poem, from the opened walls on one side of the church come the giggles from the youth who have already unveiled the full metaphor of this in its most probably intended way – the fuzzy lambs among the lilies. And from behind us, the choir of sisters from Luxeuil whisper affirmation that the Church is the bride of God, and she, The Church, also knows this “well of living water.” And yet, from the windows on the more easterly side comes the ancient echo of these same words said to be of Solomon spoken in Hebrew from the deep omniscience of rabbi’s voice. Everyone claims it. And everyone knows it is what it is. And so, in weddings we all wish for the husband’s sheep to find their fragranced wanderings into the garden. This day is all about the breath that needs no words.
Even the chanting of the sisters and brothers of Luxeuil are the Halleluiah’s – holy words – breath, with rarely consonants. Does chanting ever have a joyful sound? Today it does.
Thank you, God, for always giving us earth’s creative metaphor, showing us in poetry what you want us to know of love.
Brandell and Gaia go into the crowds of friends for the toasting and feasting and some of us stay behind in the church, the monks and the sisters from Luxeuil, our family, and Mater Doe who takes little Willanod in her arms and she is baptized now. As her father, Will, wishes for her, she is Christian, and it has been spoken aloud now, “a child of God.”
(Continues Tuesday, June 18, 2024)
Lazarus Ink 