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Thursday, March 21, 2019

Marina Tsvetaeva, Poet of Extremes


“Tsvetaeva is a poet of extremes.”—Joseph Brodsky, Footnote to a Poem



Marina Tsvetaeva, 1913 photo

Anna Akhmatova, Russian Sappho




Portrait of Anna Akhmatova (1922) by Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin

Emily Dickinson, Eccentric Genius




Emily Dickinson, image from (Trans) Feminismo: Una Revolución

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Greatest Woman Poet of English Romanticism




Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1916 drawing

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Pioneer Feminist of the New World


SOR JUANA INÉS DE LA CRUZ, PIONEER FEMINIST OF THE NEW WORLD

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, whose original name is Juana Ramírez de Asbaje, was an outstanding seventeenth-century writer in what at the time was the Spanish colonial empire and is today the United Mexican States (popularly, Mexico).

Sor Juana is a notable figure of the Spanish Golden Age, which witnessed an efflorescence of the arts—literature, the visual arts, architecture, and music.

She has been described by Encyclopedia Britannica as “the last great writer of the Hispanic Baroque and the first great exemplar of colonial Mexican culture.”


—Stephanie Merrim, “Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz: Mexican Poet and Scholar,” Encyclopedia Britannica, August 1, 2017

Sor Juana has been chosen as one of the top ten greatest women poets because of her influence on the approximately 850 million people today who are the cultural offspring of Spain and the Spanish colonial empire.

She represents the rich, expansive culture and heritage of Spain and the colonies of the former Spanish Empire in Central and South America, and if we add up the various populations of this grouping of countries, excluding the 18 present-day U.S. states that were formerly Spanish, the total equals approximately 850 million.


Although Sor Juana was a highly accomplished poet in the Baroque style, it is not for this reason that she has been selected as one of the top ten greatest women poets. There are notables of the Baroque style, such as Miguel de Cervantes or Lope de Vega, who outshine Sor Juana.

Sor Juana has been selected because her influence extends beyond Hispanic culture and with newfound relevance. This postmodern period in the West, she is celebrated as an exemplar of nascent feminism. She is recognized as a pioneer feminist of the New World.

Feminism is a postmodern ideology of major and substantial influence today. It affects not only women but also men and, to speak broadly, all possible categories of gender. There are variants of this ideology so that it would be more accurate to cite feminisms (plural) rather than feminism (singular).

Feminism is defined by Lexico as “the advocacy of women's rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes.”


More nuanced and especially revealing of the charged, conflictive meanings residing in the term is this discussion by Kathy Caprino in Forbes:


—Kathy Caprino, “What Is Feminism, and Why Do So Many Women and Men Hate It?” Forbes, March 8, 2017

“There are thousands who believe in equal rights but find ‘feminism’ a word and a movement that doesn’t align with their personal beliefs or values,” the author underscores.

We will examine Sor Juana’s “You Foolish Men,” illustrating the underlying feminism.

YOU FOOLISH MEN by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

You foolish men who lay
the guilt on women,
not seeing you’re the cause
of the very thing you blame;

if you invite their disdain
with measureless desire
why wish they well behave
if you incite to ill.

You fight their stubbornness,
then, weightily,
you say it was their lightness
when it was your guile.

In all your crazy shows
you act just like a child
who plays the bogeyman
of which he’s then afraid.

With foolish arrogance
you hope to find a Thais
in her you court, but a Lucretia
when you’ve possessed her.

What kind of mind is odder
than his who mists
a mirror and then complains
that it’s not clear.

Their favour and disdain
you hold in equal state,
if they mistreat, you complain,
you mock if they treat you well.

No woman wins esteem of you:
the most modest is ungrateful
if she refuses to admit you;
yet if she does, she’s loose.

You always are so foolish
your censure is unfair;
one you blame for cruelty
the other for being easy.

What must be her temper
who offends when she’s
ungrateful and wearies
when compliant?

But with the anger and the grief
that your pleasure tells
good luck to her who doesn’t love you
and you go on and complain.

Your lover’s moans give wings
to women’s liberty:
and having made them bad,
you want to find them good.

Who has embraced
the greater blame in passion?
She who, solicited, falls,
or he who, fallen, pleads?

Who is more to blame,
though either should do wrong?
She who sins for pay
or he who pays to sin?

Why be outraged at the guilt
that is of your own doing?
Have them as you make them
or make them what you will.

Leave off your wooing
and then, with greater cause,
you can blame the passion
of her who comes to court?

Patent is your arrogance
that fights with many weapons
since in promise and insistence
you join world, flesh, and devil.


The poem lists men’s faults, in synopsis, “You have contradictory expectations of us. You are the cause of the lapses you lay upon us.”

Structured as an argument, the opening salvo is the first stanza: “You foolish men who lay / the guilt on women, / not seeing you’re the cause / of the very thing you blame.”

The succeeding seven stanzas cite instances of the opening charge—you seek to court a Thais (Greek courtesan) but to marry a Lucretia (virtuous Roman noblewoman); you complain if women treat you badly but mock them if they treat you well; you say the modest woman is ungrateful, the one who entertains you, loose.

The eighth stanza restates the charge—“You are always so foolish / your censure is unfair,” after which the list resumes.

Throughout, the poem composes memorable antitheses—“having made them bad, / you want to find them good,” “Have them as you make them / or make them what you will.”

The last three stanzas wrap up with stinging reproaches—“in promise and insistence / you join world, flesh, and devil.”

Notably Baroque qualities of the poem include moralizing and satire.

When we consider that the poem was written in the context of Spanish patriarchal society, it becomes readily apparent that the poem is feminist. The poem is not simply an exposition about differences in the attitudes of the sexes. It is a poem of protest against the bullying male attitudes the poet encountered that denigrate and unfairly characterize women.

Sor Juana had to struggle with the limited opportunities available to the women of her time. Almost entirely self-educated, she entered a convent most likely because she had been born out of wedlock to a family that was not wealthy so that the nunnery presented the best option available for her to pursue her intellectual and literary avocation.

As explained by Encyclopedia Britannica:

“Convent life afforded Sor Juana her own apartment, time to study and write, and the opportunity to teach music and drama to the girls in Santa Paula’s school. She also functioned as the convent’s archivist and accountant. In her convent cell, Sor Juana amassed one of the largest private libraries in the New World, together with a collection of musical and scientific instruments. She was able to continue her contact with other scholars and powerful members of the court. The patronage of the viceroy and vicereine of New Spain, notably that of the marquis and marquise de la Laguna from 1680 to 1688, helped her maintain her exceptional freedom. They visited her, favoured her, and had her works published in Spain. For her part, Sor Juana, though cloistered, became the unofficial court poet in the 1680s. Her plays in verse, occasional poetry, commissioned religious services, and writings for state festivals all contributed magnificently to the world outside the convent.”


A great deal more can be said about this remarkable woman, but because this piece is a blog post we will be economical in our treatment.

One of Sor Juana’s most famous poems, “Love Opened a Mortal Wound,” wrestles with the subject of romantic love. Hewing to the stylistic conventions of the Baroque, its tightness, wit, vivid imagery, and lyrical flair speak to us from across the centuries as a period masterpiece of a virtuoso, who, not incidentally, is a woman.

LOVE OPENED A MORTAL WOUND by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

Love opened a mortal wound.
In agony, I worked the blade
to make it deeper. Please,
I begged, let death come quick.

Wild, distracted, sick,
I counted, counted
all the ways love hurt me.
One life, I thought—a thousand deaths.

Blow after blow, my heart
couldn't survive this beating.
Then—how can I explain it?

I came to my senses. I said,
Why do I suffer? What lover
ever had so much pleasure?


The poem ends cleverly and paradoxically—the mortal wound elicits matchless pleasure.

In our post-Freudian world, we suggest that the poem borders on the pornographic.

No wonder that upon the departure from Mexico of her aristocratic patrons, clerical authorities quickly moved to curtail her objectionably worldly pursuits. She was effectively silenced by the bishop of Puebla.

Today Sor Juana is celebrated as a Mexican hero and a Mexican cultural archetype.

She continues to influence modern and contemporary culture. Examples of her recent legacy include the following.

- Margaret Atwood composed “Sor Juana Works in the Garden,” publishing it in The Door (2007), a book of poetry.
- Helen Edmundson wrote a play based on Sor Juana’s life, “The Heresy of Love,” staged by the Royal Shakespeare Company in 2012.
- Google Doodle commemorated Sor Juana’s 366th birthday on November 12, 2017.

Her continuing influence bespeaks her singular literary stature.


Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1981) by Enrique Fernandez Criach

Saint Hildegard of Bingen, Unruly Mystic




Saint Hildegard of Bingen (18th century print)

Saint Mary, Mother of Jesus


SAINT MARY, MOTHER OF JESUS

The Bible is the scriptures of Christianity, a collection of books believed to be directly inspired by the spirit of God. Most of the books, for example, the Pentateuch, and the historical, prophetic, and wisdom books derive from the scriptures of Judaism. Insofar as the books of the Bible constitute the foundation of two major religions, Judaism and Christianity, this collection of books is exceptionally influential in the world. 

The total combined population of Christianity and Judaism is 2.32 billion, according to a 2015 Pew Research Center study. Christians comprise 31.2% of the world population, Jews 0.01%. See:


—Conrad Hackett and David McClendon, “Christians remain world’s largest religious group, but they are declining in Europe,” April 5, 2017, Pew Research Center

Furthermore, the Bible is recognized as the best-selling printed book in the world, estimated at 5 billion copies. See: 


—Victor Kiprop, “Best-selling book of non-fiction,” May 25, 2018, Guinness World Records

The influence of the Bible is not only extensive but also intensive because it speaks to the spirituality of billions. 

About one-third of the Bible has been estimated to consist of poetry. See:


—John Piper, “God Filled Your Bible with Poems,” April 16, 2016, desiringGod.org

Biblical poetry has been extolled for its specifically literary value. See, for example, the following:


—Dr. Jennifer T. Parkhurst, “The Conventions of Biblical Poetry,” myjewishlearning.com

One of the greatest poems of the Bible is known among Roman Catholics as the Magnificat—Latin for third person singular form of the verb, “to magnify”—and in the Byzantine tradition as “Ode of the Theotokos.” Also known as the “Song of Mary” and “Canticle of Mary,” it is one of the earliest Christian hymns, if not the earliest. It is unique in the sense that it is prayed daily in the liturgy of the Roman Catholics and the Eastern Orthodox.

Did Mary, the mother of Jesus, really compose the Magnificat?

Scholars say that Saint Luke the Evangelist was a second-generation Christian disciple working from first-generation sources and traditions, especially the gospel of Saint Mark and a collection of written and oral traditions known as “Q” for “Quelle.” Saint Luke’s gospels differ from those of the two other synoptic gospels, St. Mark’s and St. Matthew’s, in several important respects, for example:

“Luke’s unique perspective on Jesus can be seen in the six miracles and eighteen parables not found in the other gospels. Luke’s is the gospel of the poor and of social justice. He is the one who tells the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man who ignored him. Luke is the one who uses ‘Blessed are the poor’ instead of ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit’ in the beatitudes. Only in Luke’s gospel do we hear Mary’s Magnificat where she proclaims that God ‘has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty’ (Luke 1:52-53).

“Luke also has a special connection with the women in Jesus’ life, especially Mary. It is only in Luke’s gospel that we hear the story of the Annunciation, Mary’s visit to Elizabeth including the Magnificat, the Presentation, and the story of Jesus’ disappearance in Jerusalem. It is Luke that we have to thank for the Scriptural parts of the Hail Mary: ‘Hail Mary full of grace’ spoken at the Annunciation and ‘Blessed are you and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus’ spoken by her cousin Elizabeth.

“Forgiveness and God’s mercy to sinners is also of first importance to Luke. Only in Luke do we hear the story of the Prodigal Son welcomed back by the overjoyed father. Only in Luke do we hear the story of the forgiven woman disrupting the feast by washing Jesus’ feet with her tears. Throughout Luke’s gospel, Jesus takes the side of the sinner who wants to return to God’s mercy.

“Reading Luke’s gospel gives a good idea of his character as one who loved the poor, who wanted the door to God’s kingdom opened to all, who respected women, and who saw hope in God’s mercy for everyone.”

https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=76

—“St. Luke,” Catholic Online

See also Christ’s Ambassadors for Nepal, which offers a longer discussion:

—SATYALETHEIA, “The Gospel of Luke: Different than Other Two Synoptic Gospels,” Christ’s Ambassadors for Nepal, January 11, 2011

 
It has been suggested, plausibly, that Saint Luke obtained the perspectives of Mary and Elizabeth which we uniquely discover in his gospel by interviewing them directly. It is for this reason, credible enough, that we may attribute the Magnificat to Mary as the primary source. The Magnificat’s similarity to the prayer of Hannah (1 Samuel 2:1-10) and various passages from Jewish scriptures, notably the psalms, indicate that Mary was familiar with Jewish scriptures to the point that she had integrated them into her spirituality rather than that Saint Luke had put together his own patchwork of exalted scriptural verses.

A masterpiece of Jewish and Christian prayer, the Magnificat is an outstanding work of theology. A great deal can be said about it as a result. My personal commentary, on the other hand, is short.

Below is the New American Bible translation (Luke 1:46-55).

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
For he has looked with favor on his handmaid’s lowliness; behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.
The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his Name.
His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him.
He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.
He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly.
The hungry he has filled the hungry with good things; the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy, according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.

We might describe the Magnificat as a “canticle of contradiction.” The spirit of the world, which esteems power, wealth, all sorts of display, is contradicted by the Spirit of God, who exalts lowliness and stoops to fill the needs of humanity even to the point of overflowing (see 1 Corinthians 2:12).

The motif of contradiction is well put according to Saint Paul:

The foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. …God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God. (1 Corinthians 1:25, 27-29)

Isaiah declares the same message as Saint Paul’s, God’s wisdom rises beyond human understanding:

My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways—oracle of the Lord.
As high as the heavens are above the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, my thoughts higher than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

Contradicting the spirit of the world is a motif that runs throughout the Bible. In Deuteronomy, for example, God declares that Israel is his chosen people precisely because of their smallness, their weakness.

You are a people holy to the Lord, your God; the Lord, your God, has chosen you from all the peoples on the face of the earth to be a people peculiarly his own. It was not because you are the largest of all nations that the Lord set his heart on you and chose you; for you are really the smallest of all nations. It was because the Lord loved you and because of his fidelity to the oath he had sworn to your ancestors, that the Lord brought you out with his strong hand and redeemed you from the house of slavery, from the hand of Pharaoh, king of Egypt. (Deuteronomy 7:6-8)

The motif of favoring the weak over the strong recalls Hannah’s canticle:

The bows of the mighty are broken, while the tottering girds on strength. (1 Samuel 2:4)

In Isaiah, the prophet invites the thirsty and the hungry to fill themselves with God’s largesse:

All you who are thirsty—come to the water!
You who have no money, come, receive grain and eat;
Come, without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk!
Why spend your money for what is not bread, your wages for what fails to satisfy?
Heed me, and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare.
Come to me heedfully—listen, that you may have life.
I will renew with you the everlasting covenant, the benefits assured to David. (Isaiah 55:1-3)

The same motif of God feeding the hungry occurs in Hannah’s canticle:

The well-fed hire themselves out for bread, while the hungry batten on spoil. (1 Samuel 2:5)

Exaltation of the lowly by God, God’s deliverance of the needy—both are Biblical motifs.

High above all nations is the Lord; above the heavens is his glory.
Who is like the Lord our God, enthroned on high, looking down on heaven and earth?
He lifts up the lowly from the dust; from the dunghill he raises up the poor, to seat them with princes, the princes of his own people.
He gives the childless wife a home as the joyful mother of children. (Psalm 113:4-9)

The barren wife bears seven sons, while the mother of many languishes.
The Lord makes poor and makes rich; he humbles, he also exalts.
He raises the needy from the dust; from the ash heap lifts up the poor, to seat them with nobles and make a glorious throne their heritage. (1 Samuel 2:5, 7-8)

God favors the lowly, the weak, the needy, and the poor—it is a message consistent throughout the Bible that the Magnificat recapitulates.

Sr. Elizabeth Johnson, C.S.J. offers us a perspective on the Magnificat—indeed, on Mary herself—that invokes liberation theology and feminism. It is an ideological, in the political sense of the word, perspective, inciting thoughtful reflection, unsettling the status quo. It is intentionally subversive and characteristically postmodern.

The following passage, for example, is written from the standpoint of liberation theology:

“The Magnificat gives us an image of Mary speaking with prophetic authority a liberating hymn of praise. Regarding this canticle, [Martin] Luther observed: ‘She sang it not for herself alone but for all of us, to sing it after her.’ Doing so places us in intense relationship to the God who regards suffering with utmost mercy and summons us into the struggle to build a just world.”

With respect to the excerpt below we take note of the feminist spin:

“Applied to women’s struggle for full participation in governance and ministry in the church, the reversals of the Magnificat become rife with significance. Mary’s prophetic speech characterizes as nothing less than mercy—God’s intervention into a patriarchal social order.”

(I revised the original punctuation.)


—“Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary,” U.S. Catholic, Vol. 68, No. 12 (December 2003), page 12
 
A last attribute of the Magnificat that I would like to highlight is its prophetic character, meaning, it foretells the future. Among the most remarkable prophecies of the prayer is Mary’s exclamation, “From now on will all ages call me blessed.”

The first part of the Hail Mary, which calls Mary blessed, according to the greeting of the angel Gabriel, appears in Christian liturgy as early as the sixth century C.E. The second part originates at the beginning of the High Middle Ages, around 1,000 C.E.

The Hail Mary is an essential part of the Angelus and the Rosary, two commonly recited Roman Catholic prayers, which attained their present form during the High Middle Ages and the Late, respectively.

Popular legend says that the Blessed Virgin Mary bestowed the Rosary to Saint Dominic de Guzman in a vision.

The Angelus and the Rosary venerate Mary with the title, “blessed.” She has been so celebrated for many centuries. Yes, the prophecy has come true.
 
 
The Annunciation (1898) by Henry Ossawa Tanner