Leaning into Mercy, or: Resisting Resistance
Rain drops like tears waiting for the sun to be melted away. Photo: A. Furchert
Dear one,
The bells are ringing, calling us for noon prayer here at the Berlin monastery. I am in bed trying to recover from another day-care germ. So I arrive on this holy Monday with a clogged head and a stuffy nose, humbled once more into being a pilgrim myself.
Deprived of clear thinking, but well cared for by my husband and little daughter who bring me tea and tissues, I was scrolling our Passion Week archives. One Aria and interpretation stood out to me. French contralto and conductor Nathalie Stutzmann’s interpretation of the beloved Aria “Erbarme Dich” – literally translated “have pity on me”, always moves me to tears. She embodies every word in her gesture and facial expression, even while conducting her own orchestra. It is like a warm balm to the soul of the weary pilgrim. How she ends her interpretation, with two seconds of exhaustion and consolation mingling in her expression offered me reprieve today from my sorrows.
And though Bach has put this Aria rather late in his Matthew Passion, after Peter’s betrayal, I find it a fitting piece with which to begin.
But before I lead you into the music I want to talk about one other thing: resistance.
Resisting Resistance
As you know I am a rather reluctant traveler through passion week. I know that the church season and its symbolism has great value for the movement of our souls and deepening our personal journey. But I am also reluctant to go on a pilgrimage which will surely put another crack in my heart and some burden on my days. Who would not?
Resistance is actually a quite natural and important marker in our soul life. So much so that I speak with clients and mentees about it as we start our consultations. We have all been successful in building walls around our heart. It is not easy to leap over them. Thus resistance. It shows that there may be pain ahead, pain we would rather avoid, if we go deeper into some inner refection.
We resist pain. We resist deepening. And our pain medication epidemic might speak for how much we have gotten used to avoiding pain. Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely grateful for pain medication. In fact, I called out for it in agony four years ago around this time when our little one made her entrance into this world. There is unbearable pain. And we should not have to bear it alone.
For me, then, overcoming resistance does not mean to drive in with a bulldozer to take down the walls around your heart. Bach also knows this. And so he shapes his music as a seduction, as a gentle prying open of the gaps in the walls. Bach’s music finds those little cracks in the wall and lets the light of the eternal fall right in.
Resisting resistance simply means not to give up when it gets difficult. It means the wisdom of the pilgrim to continue the pilgrimage also when the feet hurt. And resistance most often shows up with inertia, the stubborn refusal to even just begin. So if you feel put off by the lyrics, or reluctant to follow the movement into sorrow, then welcome your resistance, be mindful when it shows up.
In the silent hours, says Kierkegaard, when we sit alone with our sorrows, the Divine teacher enters. Notice, it is when we sit with our sorrows, when we do something with them, and thus connect with our spiritual freedom, that is when, as Rahner has it, transcendence breaks in. Christ’s suffering is the “Stellvertreter”, it stands in for our pilgrimage through our sorrows, it teaches us, shows us the way to bear our cross, and to walk through the darkness of our brokenness to renewed life.
Bach’s music, then, is the therapy, the balm for our burdened souls, the seductive curve that beckons us along the path. The music becomes a mediator between the mercy God offers and our heart. Passion week, and Bach’s Passion as its emissary, become the path through our troubles towards healing and new life.
“Time’s violence rends the soul; by the rent eternity enters.”
Leaning into Mercy
Bach’s aria “Erbarme Dich” in his St Matthew Passion is probably the most famous and beloved of the arias. How can a song which begs for mercy even be described as beautiful or beloved? It is because the weaving of music and word offers us a vehicle to hold our deeper emotions without getting lost in them. Instead the movement goes towards integration, not dissociation. It appeals to and integrates all our senses, it is the therapy against our fragmentation, when we are overwhelmed and fall apart, get lost or swept away.
Thus, Bach’s Passion is also therapy for those like me, who sometimes feel they drown in the deep emotions we harbor about our own state and the whole world. As you will see, the Aria expresses the emotion, but it is not driven by it. This subtle difference makes all the difference.
The arias in Bach’s Passions are wells of deep emotion. While the different roles tell the story and the choirs answer with hymns, the arias suspend time. They invite us to sit with the experience for a while. Time stands still, while we follow a movement of heart to the depth of our soul.
On this day of Passion week we want to follow the movement of our soul from weeping to the hope of mercy and new life.
39. Aria
Have mercy, Lord, on me,
Regard my bitter weeping,
Look at me, heart and eyes
Both weep to Thee bitterly.
39. Arie (Alt I)
Erbarme dich, mein Gott,
um meiner Zähren willen!
Schaue hier,
Herz und Auge weint vor dir bitterlich.
Listening practice
For Hildegard of Bingen, singing is when the soul animates the body. This is, in part, why I have chosen an interpretation of “Erbarme Dich” by the French contralto and conductor Nathalie Stutzmann, who embodies every word in her gesture and facial expression, almost dancing while conducting her own orchestra. The empathy with which she leans into the Aria instead of just performing it is unmistakable.
Let us then weep together, let us beg for mercy together, and let the music and dance bear our sorrows and move us to the depths of our soul.
First Listening
The first time let it wash over you, following where the movement of music and words bring you. Note your responses and sensations.
Can you sense the lightness of a dance inside the cry for mercy? Can you feel into the interpretation, how the singer moves her body and embodies all the pain and the beauty in face and posture?
What draws your attention, the flowing lines of the violin? The singer? The dialogue between both? Does the rhythm feel like dance, or swaying, or something else? Can you follow the violin into melancholy and longing? Or the singer into her grief? Can you count how often she begs: “Erbarme Dich / Have mercy” ?
Do you feel consolation washing over you, as the violin takes your grief for a dance? Can you let your whole body lean into it?
Second listening
The second time try to concentrate on the words, a Lectio Divina. Be mindful of the text, what word stands out to you, what speaks to you in this very moment, how and where is the Divine touching your soul?
39. Aria
Have mercy, Lord, on me,
Regard my bitter weeping,
Look at me, heart and eyes
Both weep to Thee bitterly.
39. Arie (Alt I)
Erbarme dich, mein Gott,
um meiner Zähren willen!
Schaue hier,
Herz und Auge weint vor dir bitterlich.
And then listen again. If you can throughout the day. Let the melody follow you, move you, take place in your heart, and uplift the wings of your soul. If God has mercy with you, have mercy with yourself, also. Listen, as often as you need this medicine.
Third Listening
Listen to the end: What stands out for me, the last seconds when the contralto ends her singing and opens her eyes again? Can you see her exhaustion but also relief?
“Bring your lament. Bring your weeping. Your heavy heart and eyes. Divine mercy is waiting for you.”
This post is the 2nd of our Passion Week Consolations 2023. You can still subscribe here. To enter our virtual gathering space click here. To share your thoughts with us, write us here or comment below. To offer your gift, click here. If you are looking for personal consultation, visit our PathFinder, or again, just write :-)
Peace and Blessings, Almut & Chuck