Dom 1 in Quadragesima
Evening, 13 January 2016
Church of St John the
Evangelist / Agawam
I will deliver
him, and I will glorify him: I will fill him with length of days,
and I will
show him My salvation (Ps 90:16).
An unusual characteristic marks
today’s liturgy. You certainly noticed how long one of our chants was, [so long
that I opted to sit down while it was sung.] For the Mass of the First Sunday
of Lent, almost the entirety of Ps 90 is sung at the Tract. In light of this
peculiarity, I want to mention two things this evening: first, to talk briefly
about that part of the Mass we call the Tract; and second, to give a brief
commentary on Ps 90.
First, the Tract. As you know, from
Septuagesima Sunday until the Easter Vigil, the Alleluia is neither said nor
sung. It is banished from our worship in order to drive home the penitential
character of this season.—“Alleluia!”
is a cry that belongs to the joy of Easter: these days, we hold our tongues in
order to prepare for that future joy by our fasting, prayer, and almsgiving.
At Mass, in place of the Alleluia
chant during Lent, is the Tract. Where it derives its name is not perfectly
certain:[1] but the Latin word tractus can refer to something that is
long and drawn out. The name becomes appropriate, then, because the musical
settings for these chants are generally longer, and more drawn out, as we see
today. Some have said that these drawn out texts and melodies are meant to
convey sorrow. This, too, makes sense, given that the chants for the Alleluia
tend to be more exuberant and complicated, while the melodies for the tracts
are simpler, and more sober.
All that is to say that the Church’s
worship takes every pain to form us;
to slowly work on our souls and to draw us into the mystery of God. In this
case, in this season, we do so by devoted and trusting penance. We also need to
be assured that during this time of “greater spiritual combat”[2] we will have God’s
protection. Today, our worship uses Ps 90 in a special way to do just
that.
By way of transition, it is worth
noting how important a place the Psalms occupy in the sacred liturgy. The Roman
Rite is constantly using psalm texts in its prayers and ceremonies, regardless
of liturgical season. Why?—Because, as one author puts it, “Christ walks within the psalms.”[3] In the New Testament, the
most frequently quoted book of the Old Testament is the book of Psalms. We
could go on indefinitely about the worth and character of the psalms. But for
now it is enough for us to be convinced of their power and singular
importance.
Now for a very brief commentary on Ps
90. Out of the 150 psalms contained in the Scriptures, few speak more directly
to the strong, unwavering nature of the grace of God than does Ps 90. Qui habitat in adiutorio Altissimi. Again,
we heard most of it sung for us as our tract at Mass this evening. The Church
prays it every Sunday night during the office of Compline; in many Benedictine
monasteries, Ps 90 is prayed every
night.[4] It is easy enough to see
why this is fitting: “His truth shall compass thee with a shield: thou shalt
not be afraid of the terror of the night.”
We have just begun Lent, and so our
thoughts turn especially to the Cross. Ps 90 carries a special, hidden reference
to that most sacred Friday afternoon when the Master suffered for us. Our psalm
tells us that we will not be afraid “[o]f the arrow that flieth in the day, of
the business that walketh about in the dark, of invasion or of the noonday
devil.” Christ was crucified at the noonday hour, suffering the arrows,
business, and trouble of his enemies and the darkness of sin. Certainly the
devil, our ancient enemy, was out with particular force that day—as he was
during Christ’s temptation in the desert—circling around the Cross, throwing
the full weight of his hatred and malice upon the Sacred Heart. And yet,
according to the promise that the Father made in Ps 90, Christ overcomes.—“Thou
shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk, and thou shalt trample under foot the
lion and the dragon.” So we see, both the struggle and the victory of Christ’s Cross is contained in Ps 90: “I will deliver him, and I will glorify
him: I will fill him with length of days, and I will show him My salvation.”
And yet, noontime is not only about
labor and burden of feverish of activity. For the spiritual writers, noontime
is also the time of spiritual lassitude and laziness. The ancient monks knew
this, and so they realized that noontime brought another kind of temptation. The dæmonio
meridiano—the “noonday devil”—almost becomes a technical term in Christian
spirituality. This noonday devil refers to the temptation to give up, to become
distracted with things that lead a soul away from God. When things seem to make no sense; when we are tired of resisting
temptation, tired of doing the right thing; when rest and surrender seem very
appealing: at these moments we are susceptible to the noonday devil.
In the end, the lesson and grace of
Ps 90 is that the good God is present to us during our times of need. Sometimes
we meet with hard struggles in life, as if we were working under the heat of
the midday sun; sometimes we encounter doubts and fears, like nightmares that
come in the darkness; or sometimes we feel the noonday devil of dullness and
lukewarmness. The prayer of Ps 90 is the remedy to all of these maladies; it
assures us. Indeed, we need the grace of patience and perseverance at every
season; but we need it especially at the outset of our Lenten penance.
Friends, Ps 90 is just one of 149
other psalms in our Scriptures. If ever the words of prayer do not come easily,
take up the psalms like weapons against whatever trials beset you, however
dramatic or mundane. The Psalms are sturdy weapons, nourishing food, and faithful
companions.
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