Romans // Rome // Stabat Mater

Romans 10-11

10

We have a righteousness based on faith, not law.  Moses spoke of both, but we must call on Jesus in faith in response to hearing the Word preached.  Israel has not believed, but many Gentiles have.

11

God has not rejected Israel - there is a remnant who believes, and many more will come.  You Gentiles are wild branches grafted into an old, dignified, cultivated tree, so don't boast against the Jews.  You Roman Gentiles (Rome!) could be cut off the tree, too, like unbelieving Jews.  God's ways are wonderfully mysterious - glory to Him!

Touchstone - "Mortal Remains" - May/June 2023
Catholics take plenty of digs at Protestants.  Sometimes they aren't wrong, given our liberalism.  Still, maybe they are another wing of the visible church, and not the Whore of Babylon.

Ken Myers introduced me to Dvorak's Stabat Mater, in the same issue of Touchstone.  Quite good!  I pasted a nice translation below.  It dances on the edge of Mariolatry in a couple of lines, but most of it is a helpful meditation at the cross.

At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her Son to the last.

Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
all His bitter anguish bearing,
now at length the sword has passed.

O how sad and sore distressed
was that Mother, highly blest,
of the sole-begotten One.

Christ above in torment hangs,
she beneath beholds the pangs
of her dying glorious Son.

Is there one who would not weep,
whelmed in miseries so deep,
Christ's dear Mother to behold?

Can the human heart refrain
from partaking in her pain,
in that Mother's pain untold?

Bruis'd, derided, curs'd, defiled,
She beheld her tender child
All with bloody scourges rent.

For the love of His own nation,
Saw Him hang in desolation,
Till His spirit forth He sent.

O thou Mother! fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above,
make my heart with thine accord:

Make me feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ my Lord.

Holy Mother! pierce me through,
in my heart each wound renew
of my Savior crucified:

Let me share with thee His pain,
who for all my sins was slain,
who for me in torments died.

Let me mingle tears with thee,
mourning Him who mourned for me,
all the days that I may live:

By the Cross with thee to stay,
there with thee to weep and pray,
is all I ask of thee to give.

Virgin of all virgins blest!,
Listen to my fond request:
let me share thy grief divine;

Let me, to my latest breath,
in my body bear the death
of that dying Son of thine.

Wounded with His every wound,
steep my soul till it hath swooned,
in His very Blood away;

Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
lest in flames I burn and die,
in His awful Judgment Day.

Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence,
be Thy Mother my defense,
be Thy Cross my victory;

While my body here decays,
may my soul Thy goodness praise,
Safe in Paradise with Thee.