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Feast of Saint Sophia. Lament for the Holy Mother Church

 


Feast of Saint Sophia of Rome
Mother of the Holy Virgins, Saints Faith, Hope and Charity

In the early history of the church, Christians often substituted a pious pseudonym for the actual name of a saint or martyr. Some of the pseudonyms were Greek, some Latin, and they generally were instructive or had a mystical meaning (e.g. Pistis, meaning faith). Nothing is known of Sophia. Her name, or pseudonym, was found on a tomb in a cemetery reserved for martyrs on the Aurelian Way; thus, it was assumed that she had died for her faith. The legend that has grown up around the names on this tomb—Sophia, Pistis, Elpis and Agape (Wisdom, Faith, Hope and Charity in Greek)—is almost certainly derived from an Eastern allegory about the cult of Divine Wisdom. According to the legend, Wisdom was a widowed Roman during the time of Emperor Hadrian. Her three young daughters were persecuted for their Christian beliefs: 12-year-old Faith was scourged and thrown into boiling pitch, while 10-year-old Hope and 9-year-old Charity were tossed into a furnace. When these punishments did not hurt them, they were beheaded. Wisdom died praying at their graves three days later. Greek churches were often dedicated to Saint Sophia, but the magnificent church in Istanbul, the Hagia Sophia, is not. In effect Hagia Sophia means Holy Wisdom, or Holy Spirit; it refers not to a woman but to the word of God.

Lament for the Holy Mother Church of Constantinople
After her fall in 1453


O tres piteulx de tout espoir fontaine,
Pere du filz dont suis mere esplorée,
Plaindre me viens a ta court souveraine,
De ta puissance et de nature humaine,
Qui ont souffert telle durté villaine
Faire à mon filz, qui tant m'a hounourée.

O most merciful fount of all hope,
Father of the son whose weeping mother I am:
I come to complain before your sovereign court,
about your power and about human nature,
which have allowed such grievous harm
to be done to my son, who has honored me so much.

Dont suis de bien et de joye separée,
Sans qui vivant veule entendre mes plaints.
A toy, seul Dieu, du forfait me complains,
Du gref tourment et douloureulx oultrage,
Que voy souffrir au plus bel des humains.
Sans nul confort de tout humain lignage.

For that I am bereft of all good and joy,
without anyone alive willing to hear my laments.
To you, the only God, I submit my complaints,
about the grievous torment and sorrowful outrage,
which I see the most beautiful of men suffer
without any comfort from the whole human race.

Cathcon:  Another few years of Bergoglian Synodalist modernism and a new lament can be composed.

The empty square of Saint Peter's Basilica yesterday for the creation of the Cardinals and the opening of Synod. Synod, deficient along its whole Path in Wisdom, and not much sign of Faith, Hope or Charity.  Truly a devastated vineyard with an inattentive Steward more concerned with the enterprises of the world.

Black is the new white. Empty is the new full.

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