In the Eastern Orthodox Church, the liturgy of Holy and Great Wednesday includes a setting of this piece by Saint Kassia.
The woman who had fallen into many sins, perceiving Your divinity, O Lord,
Received the dignity of a myrrh-bearer,
For with lamentation she brought fragrant myrrh to You before Your burial.
And she cried: Woe is me, for love of sin and stings of lustful passion envelop me as the night, dark and moonless.
As You cause the clouds to drop down the waters of the sea, accept the fountain of my tears.
As by Your indescribable condescension You bowed down the heavens, so incline to the groaning of my heart.
I shall kiss Your most pure feet and wipe them with the hair of my head,
Those same feet whose sound Eve heard at dusk in Paradise when she hid herself in fear.
Who can count the multitude of my sins?
Who can measure the depths of Your judgements, O Saviour of my soul?
Do not turn away from me, Your servant, for You have immeasurable mercy.
Today isn’t Holy and Great Wednesday (that’s on May 1); it’s just plain ol’ Holy Wednesday because I am not Eastern Orthodox. Nonetheless I love this poem and its author.
Kassia was born in the early 800s BCE and was known to be quite intelligent and beautiful. In fact, she was chosen as one of the women from whom the emperor Theophilus would pick a wife. He decided to choose her and said to her something along the lines of, “From women come all evil things,” in reference to Eve sinning first in the Garden of Eden. I’m not sure why exactly he chose to go with that as his declaration of love, because it wouldn’t be super effective as a pick-up line today, but I suppose he was the emperor so he could do what he wanted. In any case, Kassia retorted, “And from women came salvation,” referring to Mary being the mother of Jesus. The emperor wasn’t too keen on her backtalk and picked someone else who was more demure but less pretty.
Now that Theophilus had refused Kassia, it was pretty unlikely that anyone else would marry her. That left her with one option and she founded a convent, of which she became the abbess. This was actually a pretty great fit for her anyhow because it allowed her to do all the reading, writing, and composing she wanted to do. Kassia was one of only two women during the Byzantine Era to write under her own name. Over twenty of her hymns are still used in liturgies today.
Later on, Theophilus ordered the destruction of all religious icons. Kassia spoke out vehemently against this and was scourged as a result. But somewhere along the line, the emperor realized what he had given up in this strong, fiery woman who spoke her mind and fought for what she believed. Toward the end of his life, Theophilus visited her at the convent. Kassia was still in love with Theophilus despite all the craziness between them; since she had now taken a vow to God, she hid in her closet when he came to her cell so that it wouldn’t be so hard on both of them. She had been writing the text of the hymn that I quoted above. Theophilus read it, wept at what his pride had cost him, wrote the line “Those same feet whose sound Eve heard at dusk in Paradise when she hid herself in fear,” and then left. Kassia completed it with the last lines.
Traditionally this hymn is a favorite of women in the sex trade. The Great and Holy Wednesday service (which actually takes place in the evening of Holy Tuesday) is usually the only service that large numbers of prostitutes will attend during the year. They come just to hear the Hymn of Kassiani.
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I think the story of Kassia and Theophilus is a fantastic love story. Even more than that, Kassia reminds me of the role that women have played in the story of Jesus.
Mary said yes to God despite all the unanswered questions. She woke up multiple times a night to go to the bathroom because Jesus kept kicking her in the bladder. She labored for hours and delivered him far from home. She stayed up all night rubbing his back while he cried, praying that he would fall asleep. She grabbed him when he ran in front of moving carts. She sighed in exasperation when he was late for dinner. She freaked out when he decided to stay back at the temple without telling her or Joseph where he was. She worried about him when he went off roadtripping around the country with his buddies, with no plan and no income. She fussed at him at dinner parties. She was proud of him as he became famous for communicating the word of God. She was devastated and heartbroken when he was tortured, killed, and buried. And, though the Bible doesn’t say this specifically, I know her heart skipped a beat with joy when she saw him again following his resurrection. Because she was his mom.
Though his mother was undoubtedly the most important woman in his life, Jesus surrounded himself with other women as well. At a time when women were considered to be property, he put women and men (and children!) all on the same level. He spoke to women as equals, offered them healing and grace, and gave them the same calling that he gave to men. From Mary and Martha of Bethany, to Mary Magdalene, to Priscilla, Salome, Junia, Damaris, and so many others, women were an integral part of his life.
In the Gospel reading for Holy Wednesday, that Kassia references in her famous hymn, there is a nameless woman who has sinned greatly and is likely a prostitute. She comes to Jesus with nothing but her tears and burial ointment that she undoubtedly bought using money earned working the streets. And she leaves with her sins forgiven and the command to “go in peace.” We never hear about her again.
But she is all of us. Everyone who has sinned, been disenfranchised, wasted, broken. We come to Jesus on Holy Wednesday with our tears, knowing that we are preparing him to be a sacrifice for us. He will die and be buried on our behalf. As we head toward the darkness that comes before the dawn, may we remember the words of Jesus to the woman: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
