The Divine Spark of Creation

The following diary could have been kept by a 10th century Benedictine monk residing in England. We know not his name. We know only his passion for a curious, increasingly popular hybrid of religion and drama.

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March 25, 999--Tough rehearsal for the Easter show today! Here at the monastery, we’re toiling in anticipation of the annual celebration of the entombment of Our Savior. This year, we’ve added a new wrinkle or two to the proceedings.

For heretics in need of the back-story:

Twenty-some years ago, St. Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester, prepared the Regularis concordia, or Agreed Model, based on Latin Mass liturgical practices all across this fine, flat Earth of ours.

The full title was Regularis concordia anglicae nationis monachorum sanctimonialiumque, or the Monastic Agreement of the Monks and Nuns of the English Nation. Quite the mouthful. Rumor has it that, as a counterproposal, one abbot drafted something called a “mission statement.” Many, however, objected to the abbot’s use of the phrase “Catholic products and services,” as well as a reference to churchgoers as “customers.”

The Regularis concordia lays out precise instructions to follow when undertaking dramatic representation of the Visitatio sepulchri, or Easter trope. (Tropes, or dramatic dialogues, have been interpolated into medieval liturgy for some time now.)

Included in the Regularis concordia are what some of the monks and nuns call “stage directions,” perhaps the first of their kind.

From that document, circa 973:

“While the third lection is being recited, let four brothers costume themselves . . . and as if for a purpose let [one] proceed to go secretly to the place of the sepulcher, and there let him sit quietly holding a palm in his hand. While the third [response] is being sung, let the remaining three advance, all indeed clad in copes, holding thuribles with incense in their hands, step by step in likeness of persons seeking something, to the place of the sepulcher. These things are, you see, done in imitation of the angel sitting at the monument and of the women coming with spices to anoint the body of Jesus.”

So we’re talking about props, pantomime, and--it’s devil talk, I know--acting. All that, along with the customary chants and hymns. No wonder we’re pooped at the end of the day.

April 2, 999--In rehearsals, dear diary, you learn a few things. Let’s face it, some of these monks can act better than others. It’s tough being the one in charge, the one to say: “Brother, I like some of your choices, but. . . .” Or, “Sister, I’m sorry, but the roles of the three Marys have been cast. We need those sides back.” You think that’s easy? I have to live with these people.

And yet, surprisingly little envy or jealousy infects our blessed monastery. Everyone seems to realize there are no small parts, only small Benedictines. Everyone has pulled together for the good of the Lord, and His word. And vocally, this is one smashing ensemble.

These music-drama trappings have been sneaking up on us, ever since we first mounted the Quem quaeritis? Easter trope. In it, the three Marys visit Christ’s tomb, and the angels ask them, “Whom do you seek?” No one really knows where that particular chant originated--France, North Italy, the Rhineland, perhaps. All I know is, it’s working out. And it seems to withstand our additional theatrical elements quite nicely.

We open in a week.

Dec. 5, 999--Success plays tricks with your ego, diary. The Easter trope went over so well, the monastery has allowed me to indulge my ambition, and create not one but two major new plays for December.

We’re doing the Christmas show, of course, this year revised to focus on the Gifts of the Magi. More and more, such Christmas tropes have been reported all across what I’ll refer to as “Europe.” (I hate to be Eurocentric, but. . . .)

Also, I’m writing a new one about King Herod and his slaughter of the young children of Bethlehem, which will follow Childermass, Dec. 28, also known as the Feast of the Holy Innocents. He’s a wonderful character, because he is so evil. As I write, I find myself theorizing. “The better the villain, the better the trope,” I say.

I have come to believe in the power of the drama. I’m not talking about mere spectacle; I’m talking about employing the world’s imaginative riches--music, words, spoken and sung--to illustrate the Word Itself. I believe we can theatrically heighten our religious message without competing with it.

Anyway, it’s exciting work. Some of my best, I think. We’ve fallen behind schedule in our Y1K-readiness preparation as a result, but I hope--and pray--the results justify the time spent in rehearsal.