A. is now home under hospice care. She is actually doing much better, now that her pain is under better control. She was able to sit up in bed and have a conversation with Steve and H. about how she wants a Christian funeral, "but with music that is quieter than on Sundays." Mamma D. was not present, which was why this conversation could occur.
On Friday, I stayed at the hospital with her so H. could go back home to let in people bringing a hospital bed. Mamma D. wanted me to pray for a miracle. She kept touching a copy of the Koran to the top of A.'s bare head, as if it were some sort of talisman.
I didn't think I could/should do it, because
1) the Lord has had plenty of chances to do one, and seems to have His reasons for not doing so, and
2) Most importantly, it would reinforce a "Magic Jesus" image that isn't who our Lord really is.
So instead I spoke to A. about how Jesus had gone on to prepare a place for us, and that it looked like she would soon be assisting Him. We spoke of those who await us, and the joy of that reunion, and the prospect of a new body and never, ever weeping or being in pain again. I didn't think Mamma D. could understand me, but apparently she takes in more than she can communicate. She began crying hysterically, insisting I quit speaking about death and demanding that I pray for a miracle. "You cannot leave me! What will I do without you? You must stay!" she wailed at A.
I suppose I am just not culturally sensitive. This may very well be the way Iranians express their anguish, but it seemed to me to be selfish and upsetting for A. Yes, any mother would be wild with grief, in the face of her child's suffering and death. But what mother would seek to perpetuate and increase her child's suffering, in order to satisfy her own needs? On the other hand, I don't know how well I would do if I were in another country, unable to speak the language or have friends nearby to support me.
Still, I was very angry and frustrated for A's sake. What to do? It was clear that if I didn't pray for a miracle, I was in trouble, and if I did, and it didn't occur, I would be in trouble. I'd lose either way. So I simply prayed for Christ's peace and deliverance, for both A. and her mother, and then made a quick exit.
Since then Steve has visited a couple of times. He has given A. communion and annointed her with oil. Mamma D. seems more controlled in his presence than in mine.
As I have been working and thinking about A., I have been listening over and over to "Akathist Of Thanksgiving" by John Tavener from the album of the same name. The words and music have brought me great solace. A. wants music for her funeral, that "will be quieter than on Sundays." Well, if it were me, this is what I would want both for the process and the completion of my death.
According to Orthodoxwiki, an akathist
"...is a hymn dedicated to a saint, holy event, or one of the persons of the Holy Trinity. The word akathist itself means "not sitting."
Like a sonnet, an akathist has a definite structure. It is divided into 13 parts, and each part has one section that usually ends with an "alleluia!" (the kontikion) and another section that somewhere within it contains an entreaty like "come!" or "rejoice!" (the ikos).
Again, according to Orthodoxwiki,
The akathist "Glory to God for All Things" or "of Thanksgiving" is often attributed to Priest Gregory Petrov who died in a Soviet prison camp in 1940, but also to Metropolitan Tryphon (Prince Boris Petrovich Turkestanov) +1934. The title is from the words of St. John Chrysostom as he was dying in exile. It is a song of praise from amidst the most terrible sufferings.
Taverner only sets 10 sections of Petrov's poem, and it is the haunting Kontakion 9 and the ethereal Kontakian 10 that I have been holding close in spirit.
KONTAKION 9:
(Chorus) I have often see your glory
Reflected on the faces of the dead!
With what unearthly beauty and with what joy they shone.
How spiritual, their features immaterial,
It was a triumph of gladness acheived, of peace;
In silence they called to you.
At the hour of my end illumine my soul also,
As it cries, Alleluia, Alleluia.
You can hear/see the music video of a part of Kontakion 9
here
KONTAKION 10
(Chorus) Glory to you, O God!
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) O all good and life giving Trintiy...
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) ...accept the gratitude for all your mercy and show us worthy of your goodness...
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) ...that having increased the talents entrusted to us...
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) ...we may enter into the everlasting joy of our Lord, Singing the song of victory.
(All) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Basses) Glory.
This is music to die by, and by which to enter into eternal life. May A. be spared the hysterics and wailing, and be given such music instead.
On Friday, I stayed at the hospital with her so H. could go back home to let in people bringing a hospital bed. Mamma D. wanted me to pray for a miracle. She kept touching a copy of the Koran to the top of A.'s bare head, as if it were some sort of talisman.
I didn't think I could/should do it, because
1) the Lord has had plenty of chances to do one, and seems to have His reasons for not doing so, and
2) Most importantly, it would reinforce a "Magic Jesus" image that isn't who our Lord really is.
So instead I spoke to A. about how Jesus had gone on to prepare a place for us, and that it looked like she would soon be assisting Him. We spoke of those who await us, and the joy of that reunion, and the prospect of a new body and never, ever weeping or being in pain again. I didn't think Mamma D. could understand me, but apparently she takes in more than she can communicate. She began crying hysterically, insisting I quit speaking about death and demanding that I pray for a miracle. "You cannot leave me! What will I do without you? You must stay!" she wailed at A.
I suppose I am just not culturally sensitive. This may very well be the way Iranians express their anguish, but it seemed to me to be selfish and upsetting for A. Yes, any mother would be wild with grief, in the face of her child's suffering and death. But what mother would seek to perpetuate and increase her child's suffering, in order to satisfy her own needs? On the other hand, I don't know how well I would do if I were in another country, unable to speak the language or have friends nearby to support me.
Still, I was very angry and frustrated for A's sake. What to do? It was clear that if I didn't pray for a miracle, I was in trouble, and if I did, and it didn't occur, I would be in trouble. I'd lose either way. So I simply prayed for Christ's peace and deliverance, for both A. and her mother, and then made a quick exit.
Since then Steve has visited a couple of times. He has given A. communion and annointed her with oil. Mamma D. seems more controlled in his presence than in mine.
As I have been working and thinking about A., I have been listening over and over to "Akathist Of Thanksgiving" by John Tavener from the album of the same name. The words and music have brought me great solace. A. wants music for her funeral, that "will be quieter than on Sundays." Well, if it were me, this is what I would want both for the process and the completion of my death.According to Orthodoxwiki, an akathist
"...is a hymn dedicated to a saint, holy event, or one of the persons of the Holy Trinity. The word akathist itself means "not sitting."
Like a sonnet, an akathist has a definite structure. It is divided into 13 parts, and each part has one section that usually ends with an "alleluia!" (the kontikion) and another section that somewhere within it contains an entreaty like "come!" or "rejoice!" (the ikos).
Again, according to Orthodoxwiki,
The akathist "Glory to God for All Things" or "of Thanksgiving" is often attributed to Priest Gregory Petrov who died in a Soviet prison camp in 1940, but also to Metropolitan Tryphon (Prince Boris Petrovich Turkestanov) +1934. The title is from the words of St. John Chrysostom as he was dying in exile. It is a song of praise from amidst the most terrible sufferings.
Taverner only sets 10 sections of Petrov's poem, and it is the haunting Kontakion 9 and the ethereal Kontakian 10 that I have been holding close in spirit.
KONTAKION 9:
(Chorus) I have often see your glory
Reflected on the faces of the dead!
With what unearthly beauty and with what joy they shone.
How spiritual, their features immaterial,
It was a triumph of gladness acheived, of peace;
In silence they called to you.
At the hour of my end illumine my soul also,
As it cries, Alleluia, Alleluia.
You can hear/see the music video of a part of Kontakion 9
here
KONTAKION 10
(Chorus) Glory to you, O God!
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) O all good and life giving Trintiy...
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) ...accept the gratitude for all your mercy and show us worthy of your goodness...
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) ...that having increased the talents entrusted to us...
(Soloists) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Chorus) ...we may enter into the everlasting joy of our Lord, Singing the song of victory.
(All) Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.
(Basses) Glory.
This is music to die by, and by which to enter into eternal life. May A. be spared the hysterics and wailing, and be given such music instead.
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