St Ephrem the Syrian

Date: 13 July 2008 05:43:15

Poetry has always had an appeal to me, and religious poetry in particular. I devour the works of John Donne [I also love his more "earthly", fleshly even :), works] and St John of the Cross. While not discarding others form of theology, which I admit to being important, to me, in many places and in many instances, it is the Christian poet who can, for me, shine a light in the darker places and help me explore the rich faith we have inherited. At times, words can seem superfluous: and the images, the symbols, the metaphors, the poets use, seem to make mysteries that little bit clearer: while never detracting from the fact that there are some things beyond our understanding.

St Ephrem the Syrian is someone, similar to St Isaac the Syrian [of whom more another time], whose works I have only really read in the forms of small quotes, whether they be in books I read, or courtesy of the blog Word from the Desert.

Yet, so powerful did I find them, that I have looked for more, and in the case of St Ephrem I purchased two books, Hymns on Paradise [bought several years ago] and a collection entitled Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns [which I bought only several months ago].

St Ephrem the Syrian was someone I had not heard of, or if I had I had forgotten him, before I started worshipping with the Orthodox. However, he is well-known, and loved, in many of the Eastern Churches. One of his most known, and loved, prayers, is the prayer of his used during Great Lent:

O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth, despondency, lust for power and idle talk. (Prostration)

But rather grant unto me, Your servant, a spirit of chastity, humility, patience and love. (Prostration)

Yes, O Lord and King, grant me to see mine own faults and not to judge my brothers and sisters. For blessed are You unto the ages of ages. Amen. (Prostration)

O God, cleanse me a sinner. (12 times, with as many bows, and then again the whole prayer from the beginning throughout, and after that one great prostration)

St Ephrem [or Ephraim] was born around 306 in Nisibis (the modern Turkish town of Nusaybiand) and died of the plague in 373 in Edessa, after ministering to those who were suffering from it. He had moved to Edessa after, as a treaty, the city was given to the Persians and the Christian citizens were forced to leave.

Jacob, first Bishop of Nisibis, was Ephrem's spiritual Father, and Jacob appointed him teacher, a work he continued in Edessa. As part of this role, he composed hymns and wrote biblical commentaries. Music was popularly used to spread belief, and as the heretics spread their heresies through music, Ephrem ensured that the true message and true belief was carried in song as well, to instruct not only the clergy and the educated, but all people.

Four hundred hymns have come to us that we know were written by St Ephrem; given that some have perhaps been lost, he truly was a prolific writer. Ephrem is a great user of types and symbols: and in particular Biblical symbols loom large in his works. The New Testament fulfils the Old, and Ephrem uses both to full effect. As Kathleen McVey writes in her introduction to Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns: to not accept and understand the New means "missing the fullness of God's revelation" in Christ Jesus; but also, to not understand or at least know the Old, means you "deprive [yourself] of the depth and richness of meaning placed in human history by God Himself." [p.43]

For Ephrem, as for all Christians, the Incarnation is central. And while it is a once-off event, in the past in terms of human history, Ephrem sees its wonder stretching beyond the first-century: while describing and interpreting events in Jesus' earthy life, there are symbols of God's relationship with every single human being. And, as Christ called those he encountered to a deeper and deeper relationship with God, so does Ephrem through his works, comparing us to the Samaritan Woman at the well, or the Blind Man calling out to be given sight, or Zacchaeus or the woman anointing Christ -- they are, in some way, a symbol of us all.

I am currently reading a collection of his hymns titled The Hymns on Virginity and on the Symbols of the Lord. Here is a sample from one, number 16, stanza 7, where the cry of the blind man is recalled: and through it, a lesson for us all on boldness towards God:

Blessed are you, too, courageous blind man
whose great boldness enlightened you.
For if you had been silent as you were admonished,
silence would have kept you in darkness.
Blessed is your boldness for in it you also offer a type,
that the sinner, if he be bold, will obtain mercy.