Fr. Gorazd Cetkovský, O.Carm.
The year of the Eucharist, proclaimed by our bishops, can be an opportunity not only for extraordinary events but also for a more attentive perception of our "ongoing" Eucharistic piety or, more sensitively put, our prayer towards Christ present in the mystery of His Body and Blood. This year, on the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, I thought to take a closer look at the text of the well-known hymn composed by this saint for the newly established feast of Corpus Christi. I would like to share this reflection with you now.
In the opening words of his hymn, Thomas adhered to the ancient hymn Pange lingua gloriosi proelium certaminis, composed around 570 by Venantius Fortunatus.1 St. Thomas's hymn begins with the words Pange lingua gloriosi corporis mysterium and to this day is part of the Vespers of the Feast of Corpus Christi. (In our country, it has been retained in the Dominican edition of the Liturgy of the Hours. In contrast, the commonly used Czech edition of the Daily Prayer of the Church, prepared by the Secretariat of the Czech Liturgical Commission, has replaced this hymn in the Vespers of the said feast with the baroque song Chval, duše bohabojná, which we will also mention.) Furthermore, we use this hymn of St. Thomas as a church song, and we find it in the Hymnbook both in the original Latin text (under number 705) and in the Czech translation under number 704. The translation begins with the words "Praise your mouths." My intention in this contemplation is not to provide a detailed analysis of Thomas's poem but rather to attentively highlight and emphasize the thoughts contained in both the original text and its Czech version, from which we can draw when praying, whether sung or recited, or in internal prayer over this text.
St. Thomas looks up to the mystery of the Eucharist and begins to sing about it with great reverence. He knows that he is dealing with a "mystery," that it is the Body "sublime" and Blood "precious." Reverence is essential in any relationship. It is very difficult or perhaps impossible to love someone whom I do not respect. Even in our Carmelite efforts to learn to pray, we often repeat that every prayer is good to begin with an act of reverence. Thus, we confess here that we approach this venerable mystery, and we want our song to reflect an internal posture of praise.
We believe that Christ is present in the Eucharist, that it is His Body and Blood. The Latin text contains a mention that the Czech translation does not encompass, namely that we are redeemed by Jesus's blood: it is the price for the salvation of the world! (I consider the Czech translation to be beautiful and very successful, and if I point out its deviations from the original Latin text, it is not criticism but an effort to draw inspiration from both versions of the poem in the greatest richness of thoughts.)
After the call to praise (in the first stanza), the poet presents to our minds first (at the outset) the mystery of Christ's incarnation and His earthly life. The emphasis on the initial words "was given to us and was born to us" is interesting – namely, we are the addressees of this event; the Savior came for our sake, for our good. I believe the same emphasis is hidden behind the words "He scattered the grain of His truth," namely that Jesus sowed and spread the message of the coming of God's kingdom. The sower scatters the grain, releases it from his hand, gives. Thus: He was given to us and Himself lived by giving. He fulfilled "His earthly life"! And this continuous giving Jesus then "wonderfully culminated," according to the Latin, He "wonderfully concluded." When and how? About that, the third stanza will sing: at the Last Supper.
It is worth refining the idea that Jesus, with His apostles, had this supper "according to the custom." The Latin wording expresses that the supper took place not according to any custom but absolutely faithfully according to the prescriptions of Moses's Law. Jesus and His disciples ate the prescribed foods (specifically: the lamb and unleavened bread), but He gave it an entirely new meaning: "He gave Himself as food." Moreover, the Latin original uses impressive specificity and says that at that moment: "He gives Himself with His own hands." Let us add: yes, this is how He Himself commented to the disciples: "Take, this is my body, this is the cup of my blood..."
The following fourth stanza is a kind of theological reflection on what Jesus did at the Last Supper, how it has just been described. It begins with a poetic summary of contrasts, much loved in medieval poetry: "The Word in the body gives power to change bread into body." Then St. Thomas expresses a thought that was probably dear to him regarding the Eucharist, as he mentions it again in the following stanza: the mystery of the transformation of bread and wine into Body and Blood is not accessible to our sensory knowledge. With our eyes, we see, with touch, smell, and taste, we still perceive bread and wine. "The Lord is hidden from the senses." To recognize that it is Body and Blood leads us to faith (in the truth of Christ's words). Literally in Latin, "mere faith," or nicely in the Czech text: "faith alone is enough to convince the pure heart."
Where "purity" of heart (in Latin: simplicity) clearly represents an important prerequisite. A person burdened with resistance, pride, and a priori objections demands evidence, wants to be convinced somehow "by force," but Christ does not do that... For a simple heart, faith is sufficient to receive the Lord in the Eucharist.
After describing the event in the upper room and a theological reflection on it, the focus of the composition changes in the fifth stanza: instead of a narrative tone, an invitation to prayer arises, a call for what we are to do, how to respond. That word "therefore," in Latin "ergo" (which is often borrowed by colloquial Czech to urge that long speech should culminate in a clear conclusion or to transition from words to deeds), is missing in the Czech version. However, the Latin text here expresses the appropriate consistency. In the sense: if this mystery is so great, then (= let us conclude from this) "in reverence let us bend the knee," let us kneel. Kneeling is a posture that worship is reserved solely for God. This intensity gained text only in Czech; the Latin speaks of worship, which has a more general meaning.
I must admit that the phrase "ancient worship" personally evokes in me – perhaps influenced by other hymnbook songs – a subconscious image of the Great Moravian period. However, it is understood here as the Old Testament worship or directly the Old Covenant between the Lord and His people. And now Christ replaces this with a new reality. Instead of the Jewish Passover supper, we, the disciples of Jesus, continue to gather for the Eucharist and celebrate it in memory of Jesus, not as a reminder of the Israelites' exodus from Egypt.
In repeating the thought we have already mentioned: "supplement the senses that are weakening, faith," the Czech translator and poet added also love: "faith linked with love." We cannot find that in the Latin original, however, we cannot say that this is an inappropriate addition. Let us note that the baroque song Chval, duše bohabojná mentioned at the beginning also describes the event of the Last Supper and also mentions the inadequacy of our senses regarding the recognition of Christ's presence in this mystery.
What the sharpness of the sight
cannot see
nor our reason
fully comprehend,
God with His omnipotence
can cause,
and also in the future
wants to do so.
Here the author of the text furthermore emphasizes God's omnipotence. It is strong enough to cause such a miracle, indeed even to repeat it again (i.e., whenever Mass is celebrated). However, this song lacks a reference to faith, which is of fundamental importance for us to approach the mystery of the Eucharist properly.
The concluding sixth stanza praises the Trinity of God's persons. This corresponds to the established custom of ancient liturgical hymns. To pile synonyms of praise: "glory, honor, thanksgiving" is quite foreign to our contemporary expression, yet poetry often resorts to this and in many places, scripture significantly does too (let us recall, for example, the canticle in the Vespers from Rev 5:12). Here I would like to mention one more personal impression: I found myself realizing that the words urging that "enthusiastic praise" sounds to the Father and the Son "without ceasing" give me a static and, in fact, betraying impression. If something sounds for all eternity, I don't need to care much about it; it does not matter in a particular moment. But nothing like that is in the Latin original, and the poet's call carries precisely the opposite charge: now – at the moment when you have the mystery of Body and Blood before your eyes or in your heart (after Holy Communion), and after we have realized all that you have sung so far – now precisely should praise burst forth from your lips! Spontaneous, "enthusiastic," mighty.
