If you'll allow me a moment of dorky liturgical self congratulation, I would like to announce that last Sunday, I made it through the Mass without even glancing at the cheat sheet! Yep, I even remembered to say, " for our good and the good of all His Holy Church," which is an especially sneaky passage because it's 99% the same as it was before, and lulls you into a false sense of familiarity -- and then BAM, "all his Holy Church."
We all know that the main reason we go to Mass is winning the liturgy -- much like the two robbers in Freddy the Detective, who are having a contest (one singing, one on the harmonium) to see who can get through the song first without skipping anything. I'm the one who refuses to try "Boola Boola," because the other guy always leaves out at least six "boolas."
Anyway, even if I can remember the "new" (original) words easily, they still sound fresh to me. One phrase that especially stands out is in Eucharistic Prayer II: "Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall…"
I understand that this phrase sounds contrived or overly flowery to some ears. But since I've very unwillingly become an early riser, I have to admit that there is nothing like the dewfall.
It covers absolutely everything. I'm not a thorough person, in general. So it impress the heck out of me when the dew manages to reach each and every blade of grass, piece of clover, twig, sleeping caterpillar, Hotwheels car, dead leaf, bottle cap, pebble and furled up fern that happens to be outdoors -- every single one, for miles and miles. All those tiny drops! If it's there, the dew is going to cover it. And it doesn't just use broad brush strokes, either, but delicately paves every square inch of the morning world unstintingly with numberless little half-globes, each one quietly showing back to morning its very own miniature sky.
That is how the dewfall is like the coming of the Holy Spirit: unstinting. Indiscriminate, in the best way. Tirelessly thorough. It graces things that are lovely, and clearly working in cooperation with all that is good, true, and beautiful, and it showers just as much loving mercy on the unlovely and the weird.
It nourishes us and keeps us alive until the next downpour comes.
Sometimes we reach up eagerly and blossom right away; sometimes we store it up unawares, not knowing how much we'll need it later on, in a dry season.
Have you thought about where all the dew goes when the first freshness of morning is gone? Of course we know it evaporates -- rises up in the air as the day warms up, until it becomes clouds high above us. But not all of it! Some lingers. There is almost always water vapor in the air, especially if there are a lot of people, hanging around, breathing! This is why, when you fill a glass with ice water, little drops will appear on the outside of the glass: it's the gaseous water vapor that's already in the air. The chill makes it turn back into water, and voila: visible drops. It was there all along, just waiting for you to make yourself available.
This is something I try to remember when I am, well, cold. When I am discouraged, or tired, or feeling alone, or hopeless, or helpless. The breath of the Holy Spirit is all around me. It wants to cling, to refresh, to nourish -- and to help us reflect back to the world our little portion of light.
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The photographs are stunning! Could we also say that grace is like dew.
That’s been one of my favorite lines in the new translation also! Another is from EP 3: “May he make of us an eternal offering to you, so that we may obtain an inheritance with your elect…” We become the sacrifice!
There’s good stuff in them-there prayers!
Love this! “Like the dewfall” is also my favorite phrase so much so that I had to switch churches because the priest where I was going refused to say it. Here’s what I wrote about it in case you want another perspective: http://www.suscipio4women.com/2012/08/07/morning-dew/
Well said, Simcha. I really like the juxtaposition of the image of dewfall every for miles and miles, yet not just splashed indiscriminately, but particularly and with care on each object.
Kind of like how God loves all of us broadly, as a people called to be His own, but also individually and particularly, knowing our names and the [diminishing] count of hairs on our heads.
I always heard, too, that a summer day with no morning dew on the grass meant rain/thunderstorms in the afternoon.Not sure if there’s any truth to it, ‘tho.
I love the inclusion of these words because they invoke the Exodus story, when the ground was covered with dewfall as God provided manna for His people. Having this parallel presented in such a subtle way, where it was not presented before, is definitely one of my favorite things about the new translation.
Oh Simcha…this was beautiful. Thank you…and thank God for you.
I’m seeing where I remember the translation at Mass more often now. WINNING! is my response to that, too! Better than F! when I would stumble (again) over the Creed. So much unneeded cursing during Mass in the past liturgical year…
I heard it somewhere (can’t exactly recall where) but it is similar to the exodus Jews waking up in the morning and finding the ground covered with manna. God sends His Spirit gently, unseen like the dewfall to sustain His people in the wilderness.
Ding, ding, ding…. We have a winner! Awesome post, Simcha.
It’s almost painful to look at beautiful flowers covered in dew, when it’s cold and grey here. Almost. Mostly I feel hopeful.
Now can you get back to offending people with your pants?
living in southern california for the past six years, i am having a VERY hard time with my old friend, envy. what i wouldn’t give for a good, drenching dew! plus your post puts me in mind of the hoarfrosts of my english childhood - just like the dewfall you describe but still more magical, being frozen. sigh!
I appreciate Mrs. Fisher’s post here, in several ways. I too welcome what I think are the recent improvements in the English translation (other than the revised Confiteor, which, happily, is optional). But I sometimes slip into the older versions—which exposes to me my wool-gathering inattention.
My oldest son was feeling sad and lonely last night. He left his man cave across town to visit. His spirits lifted a little at our family table, and the home cooked meal I had really put my heart into.
We had only had a few minutes in the kitchen to discuss what he thinks might be depression, but then were descended upon by two high spirited grade schoolers, and an incensed, grumbling sixteen year old who is still moody about having to do a sport. My husband came in the door, sighing with relief after a particularly trying day.
Our giggling,exuberant,and naked toddler streaking across the room like a wet seal from the bath tub made us all laugh out loud.
Craft beer, candlelight, and lively conversation did wonders for his flagging spirits, but my son left with a lingering heaviness.
.
When I saw those photos of the dew insects I did something I rarely do; I texted him at work, like it was an emergency!
I know him. I know what moves him.
The words you wrote, accompanying those photos will be like dew upon his darkened soul.
Thank you.
Lovely. Your contemplative with words and images in this post is original and insightful.
The dewfall lifted, then the manna was seen and consumed by the wandering Israelites. When the priest asks God to send His Spirit upon the gifts like the dewfall, at the moment the Spirit descends, the True Manna—the Eucharist—is seen and adored and consumed by us earthly pilgrims!
I also like the connotation that dewfall is a gentle subtle quiet thing, easily missable, like the wind whispering to Elijah.
Think of sitting outside overnight with a flashlight watching a surface waiting to see the dew actually falling. You watch for a while never seeing it, then BOOM I think I see some, how did I miss it, you know, falling? It is not like rain, there is no indicator that it is actually accumulating. Like seeing your friend’s kids after several years and saying my how thev’ve grown, yet the parents do not notice it at all day to day.
Same with the Holy Spirit. No fanfare, no glory, no loud posse, yet during the EP we attend with quiet reverence as bread and wine are brandied about. We notice nothing and yet BOOM, we saw nothing, heard nothing, sensed nothing, yet there our Lord is where He wasn’t before.
Great piece as always, glad to chime in.
“For the whole world before thee is as the least grain of the balance, and as a drop of the morning dew, that falleth down upon the earth: But thou hast mercy upon all, because thou canst do all things, and overlookest the sins of men for the sake of repentance.”—Wisdom 11: 23-24
Ha - When I saw the headline I thought Simcha was referring to that Cat Stevens song, “Morning has Broken” with the line “like the first dewfall on the first grass” which we occasionally sing at church.
Dear Simcha,
Thank you for this very beautiful reflection.
Thank you Simcha!
I was thinking it takes a man comfortable with his man-hood to read that line in front of a congregation. This helps.
O sheep, O hart
kind words, pulled apart
fraidy cat in all I do
exept wherein it comes to you
The Daughter Zion, father zeus
the differential - what’s the use?
That was one thing that struck me in that first beautiful morning after the ice storm in 2008 (that was followed by a week of cold weather and no power… but I digress). Every single blade of grass, every single pine needle, everything was just coated with the ice, and it was so beautiful even though it was destructive. It was just amazing, fascinating, and pictures do not do it justice. What a lovely comparison to the Holy Spirit!
Sigh. I can’t wait to be done with these irritating Penderwicks so we can try the Freddie audiobook I picked up at the library (as per your recommendation).
I love this too.
The new translation is more literal - sometimes excessively literal IMHO. So I was surprised that “rore” was inaccurately rendered as “dewfall” rather than “dew”.
“Haec ergo dona, quaesumus, Spiritus tui rore sanctifica”
is more literally rendered as “... by the dew of your spirit”. Not dewfall.
Dew does not fall, it condenses (although Aristotle though it fell from the highest heaven and not from rain clouds).
We can think of the Holy Spirit “descending” from above like “dewfall” - this is jarring to those who know that dew does not fall. Or we can think of the Holy Spirit being omnipresent, all around, “condensing” on and in us. Both are useful poetic images.
I try just read and I rarely comment but, wow, you got it right, Simcha. When I heard the new translation, I had to adjust, but that phrase and that word “dewfall” struck me instantly and lingers still. God works in the Eucharist like the dewfall, and grace showers us like the dewfall. Its the best word, either ‘dew of your spirit’ or ‘dewfall’, and to think, they have been using the Latin for centuries. The Fathers back then were right on the money.
This is startingly beautiful imagery. Thank you Simcha!
Not related to this blog, but could you let us know how Jennifer Fulwiler is doing?
for Jennifer’s information go to www.conversiondiary.com
I too have been wondering and praying and found this wonderful site. Jennifer tells her story there
As much as I dislike hearing EP II used at Mass, as it is so short it seems like some priests use it to keep Masses shorter, this reflection will help me appreciate better what few words there are, other than the consecration :)
Simcha,
Those lines always remind me of classes in English Poetic Tradition with Miss B (I’m an old TMCer as well), and very particularly the poem I Sing of a Maiden:
I sing of a maiden
That is makelees:
King of alle kinges
To her sone she chees.
He cam also stille
Ther his moder was
As dewe in Aprille
That falleth on the gras.
He cam also stille
To his modres bowr
As dewe in Aprille
That falleth on the flowr.
He cam also stille
Ther his moder lay
As dewe in Aprille
That falleth on the spray.
Moder and maiden
Was nevere noon but she:
Wel may swich a lady
Godes moder be.
“As dew in April/That falleth on the flower” - I was always so struck by that image of the mysteriousness of when and how Christ actually came to the Blessed Mother (is it now? How about now? Now?) compared with the mysteriousness of when the dew actually comes upon the flower (I know we have slow motion cameras and scientific minds that argue, even inside of ourselves, that these things really aren’t mysterious because we can explain them. But they are.)
Every time I hear the phrase at Mass, it puts a big smile on my face! I love it and have loved it since hearing it for the first time. So glad others appreciate it as well.
<h3>Adapted from Nox nocti indicat Scientiam DAVID</h3>
By William Habbington
(First two stanzas)
When I survay the bright
Coelestiall spheare:
So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an AEthiop bride appeare,
***
My soule her wings doth spread
And heaven-ward flies,
Th’Almighty’s Mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies
***
Amen
I love the dewfall phrasing as well. The Holy Spirit has a way with words!
Thanks, Simcha, for your writing on this topic.
Isn’t it wonderful? Alleluia’!
After working on accounting reconciliations all day, coming to this site is refreshment indeed. I feel as if I’m transported to the great etherial beyond, far above my daily concerns. Thanks to all the poetic minded souls for a drop of dew in the midst of a salt earth.
Salve Regina seems more appropriate as a title! Here’s the third stanza:
For the bright firmament
Shootes forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator’s name.
Definitely my absolute favorite line of the new translation. I gauge how well I have been paying attention at Mass by if I noticed that line or not ;)
Amen! :)
I always notice the line about the dewfall and while it sounds pretty (and I have nothing against dew, except Mountain Dew) I didn’t really get it. The phrasing seemed a bit flowery.
But I love your analogy and I think I will hear it differently from now on. Great writing! Thank you.
That’s wonderful!
I had been wondering why we have been praying that the bread become sopping wet the way it does when there’s dew on the ground, and very thankful that it hasn’t happened despite our prayers. Thank you for making this weird phrase a little more comprehensible.
Heard it & loved it! :)
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