FFXV: The Promise, Chapter 3

Wow. I guess I was tired.

That was Prompto’s first thought when his eyes popped open and discovered that the sun was much higher in the sky than usual. He typically found himself stirring just after dawn these days, sunrise at the very latest, still cool and quiet enough to go for a jog around the village before the farms got too busy. But there was no chance of that at this hour. Even with the dense canopy of trees the humid air had begun to heat up. He’d be worn out before the day even started if he went running now.

FFXV: The Promise, Chapter 2

The Disc of Cauthess was the consummate wonder of the world. More bizarre than the most architecturally or technologically fascinating ruins of Solheim, more captivating than the perpetually-smoking Ravatogh, the rocky arcs and arches that made their stationary dance around the heart of Duscae never ceased to stir the imagination of those who came across it. Was it made by the Gods, perhaps when they first alighted upon Eos untold ages ago? Was it man-made, some sort of Solheminian calendrical sculpture or sacred space? Was it a simply natural formation, dramatized and aggravated by the fall of the Meteor and the presence of the Archaean? Even though the Landforger and the Meteor had both physically disappeared from the impact crater, the Disc itself still lay spread open across the land like a giant stone rose, and people still came from all over Lucis to gaze upon it, even from a distance. But it held little interest now for Prompto as he rode down the highway that ran along the southwest edge of Cauthess, because the land’s newest wonder was coming into view.

I Still Miss Someone: Prelude to a Promise

One – M.E. 766-VII-21st (Now)

The blond man awoke blinking, and immediately grimaced at the light shining at him from the window. He almost felt bad for turning on his side away from it, but the morning sun really was going to take some getting used to again. It was only the second day since they brought back the dawn, only the second time in ten years that the sun could shine unobstructed over Eos. As much as everyone had longed for the light, the impact of its return was surely going to be as unsettling as enduring a decade of darkness, at least in the short term. Though “unsettling,” for Ignis, for Gladio, and for him, would be something of a gross understatement, and there was no guarantee that any such term would be short.

Lying on his side, he looked out across the other side of the bed to the dusty furnishings of the absurdly large bedroom. His thoughts drifted to last night, when they were finally settling down after what felt like days awake and relentlessly active, having fully secured the Citadel with the help of the Crownsguard. He’d called dibs on the Crown Prince’s old room. The other two seemed taken aback but didn’t object, and whatever reservations they may have had they kept to themselves. Perhaps they shouldn’t have, he thought. Maybe they should have said what was on their minds. It’s not like he hadn’t been a regular fixture in the prince’s quarters, to say nothing of the prince’s life, for several years. But those were different times. There were four of them then. No prophecies. No sacrifices. No treaties or covenants. No race across the world. No ten years of night. Just the four of them: a bodyguard, an adviser, a pleb, and the prince binding them all together. And now…

He sputtered out a sigh as he gazed out at the sunlit loneliness of the room. “Day Two,” he whispered.

Day Two of a world without Noct.

FFXV: The Promise, Chapter 1

“Once this is all over, I say we break down the borders–come together as a nation. …I’m gonna make this world a better place. You with me?”

“Uh-huh. Ever at your side.”

FINAL FANTASY XV
The Promise

M.E. 779-VII-20th

“Welcome to Galdin, friends, and welcome to the tenth annual Festival of the Dawn!”

It was hot on the quay that midsummer noon, and the throngs of happy people crowding the place were making it even hotter. A cool breeze was trying to make its way off the water and through the crowd, but it was little competition for the warm air generated by all the clapping and cheering that went up as the mayor gave the official festival welcome. People had been steadily pouring in all morning from many miles around to take in the sights, to enjoy the games and physical challenges set up all along the beachfront of the Vannath Coast, to peruse the vendor booths that walled the west side of the widened boardwalk–and, of course, to savor the culinary curiosities of the Mother of Pearl restaurant, restored and under famous new management. Yes, the Day of the Dawn had become quite the lively spectacle over the last few years, as Galdin bore witness to its own dawn, transformed from a diminished-then-abandoned resort to a thriving fishing village and port. And everyone there who still remembered the ten years of the Long Night would have it no other way.

Well, almost everyone.

“Strengthened and Prepared for Spiritual Combat”

Today is the Memorial of Pope Saint Sixtus II and his companions. Sixtus (or Xystus) was Bishop of Rome during the time of the emperor Valerian, who waged an all-out persecution against the Christian faithful. On August 6, A.D. 258, Sixtus was celebrating Mass at the catacombs of Saint Calixtus with four of his seven deacons, when the emperor’s soldiers entered and killed them. Another of his deacons, Lawrence, would be killed a few days later following a stunning act of defiance (he is the only deacon to be honored with a Feast).

We know of their fate primarily from a letter written by Saint Cyprian, who would himself be killed not long thereafter, to a fellow bishop named Successus. I am including my meager translation of that letter below. I would ask that, as you read it, you please think of those Christians suffering religious persecution today, and recognize the mindset that accompanies it on both sides. I don’t mean the simple humiliation that Christians in the West endure at the hands of secular humanist relativism (not to mention each other); I’m thinking of those at odds with the government in Sudan and Syria, those being wiped out or forced to flee in Iraq by the radical Islamic caliphate, and those trapped in Gaza and unable to evacuate. I pray such extreme persecution never develops here, but rather ends everywhere.

Recording the Secret: A Meditative Translation of “Pange, lingua”

Record, my tongue, the secret of the glorious Body
and of the precious Blood that, as price of the world,
the fruit of a noble womb poured out–the King of nations.

Given to us, born for us from an undefiled Maiden,
and having lived in the world as He sowed the seed of the Word,
He brings His sojourn to an end with a wondrous rite.

Reclining with His brethren on the night of His last supper,
having observed the law in full with the prescribed food,
to the Twelve He gives Himself as food with His own hands.

The Word-in-flesh makes true bread flesh by a word,
and wine becomes Christ’s blood;
and if perception is lacking to sustain a sincere heart,
faith alone is enough.

So bowing down let us revere such a great promise,
and let the former pattern fall to a new order.
Let faith stand forth as an aid to the failings of the senses.

To the Begetter and the Begotten be praise and jubilation,
strength and honor, glory as well, and blessing.
To the One Who proceeds from Both be accolade likewise.  Amen.

– St. Thomas Aquinas (translated by Daniel Smith)

Reunion

I know not where I am being led, but I am not afraid.

It has been a long time since I was truly afraid of anything. I’ve been apprehensive, cautious, but those aren’t the same thing.  Not the same as what I felt the last night I knew fear.  Fear of not knowing if I was doing the right thing.  Fear of ruining a simple young girl’s life at her most vulnerable moment.  Fear of my well-intentioned plans backfiring.  And then, once I had resolved to carry out my plans, fear of the dazzling presence that burst through into my dream.  It shook me to my core even as it commanded me in the sweetest voice I had ever heard in my life, “Do not be afraid.”  And my fear did indeed melt away as that voice continued, assuring me that I could take the girl as my wife, that the Child she had been found to be carrying had been conceived by the spirit of the LORD, and that we were to give the Child a very special name – one that means “The LORD is the Preserver” – and that we were to give Him this name because “He will preserve the nation from its failings.”

“The LORD is the Preserver.”  I knew what and who this Child was even then.  I knew it then as surely as I know it now.  And as surely as I knew I would never be afraid again, for God was with us.  And so I took her into my home, this simple young girl that I was seeing for the first time with newly-opened eyes.  I fell to my knee, but I was not afraid.  What else could I do but simply fall to my knee and kiss her hand and look up at her with a loving smile?  For I did not see a simple young girl, but the most beautiful woman in all creation.

The Magnificat: A Boast of YHWH

Another unconventional hymn translation in honor of today’s solemn feast of the Holy Mother of God.  Enjoy!

My being is a boast of YHWH,
and my spirit delights in the God of my deliverance,
because He has seen fit to regard his servant-girl’s lowliness.
For look! from this point on all generations will say that I am blessed:
because He Who has the power has done great things for me;
holy is His name;
His compassion is there from generation to generation
for those who fear Him.
He has put forth the strength of His arm,
has sifted like chaff the arrogant in the devises of their hearts:
He has deposed lords from their dignity
and exalted those of low estate;
the hungry He has filled with benefits
and the wealthy He has sent away empty-handed.
He has obliged Himself on behalf of Israel His son
to call to mind His compassion,
just as He said to our forefathers,
to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.

– The Canticle of Mary (Luke 1:46-55), translated by Daniel J. Smith

The Depths of the Compassion of Our God – The Explanation

There is a traditional Christian answer… It is not clear, however, that the language of that answer any longer communicates what it was intended to convey. Hence we have embarked on a process of reconstruction, attempting to get hold of the reality that the traditional language originally engaged.

Thank you, William P. Loewe, for writing down what was on my mind as I worked on my translation of the Canticle of Zechariah (which I published back on Christmas Eve).  Here he is speaking of the meaning of the Resurrection as salvation from sin, but the quote really does apply much more broadly than that.  Translation really is more of an art than a skill; obviously one needs skill to know what the words mean and how they work together in grammar and syntax, but translation seeks to communicate not just words but the entire frame of mind and way of life that generated them.  And for us Christians it has happened, we must confess, that the oft-used and -abused words such as “redemption,” “salvation,” “justice” and “mercy” have come to simply assume meanings that are no longer actively known, and as a result they are not effectively communicated.  This is a problem that I am seeking to at least alleviate as I make my way through a daunting self-imposed project: a reading guide to the Four Gospels, with special attention paid to the beautiful hymns set down by Luke and John.

The Depths of the Compassion of Our God

Blessed be YHWH the God of Israel,
because He has looked upon His people and accomplished their release.
And He has roused the horn of deliverance for us
within the household of David His servant,
just as He said through the mouth of His holy prophets through the ages–
deliverance from our enemies and from the hand of those who hate us–
showing compassion in His dealings with our forefathers
and remembering His sacred pact,
having sworn an oath to Abraham our forefather to give Himself to us
so that unafraid, torn away from the enemies’ hand,
we may worship Him in integrity and righteousness
before His face through all our days.
And you, little child, will be called prophet of the Most High
for you will go forth before YHWH’s face to prepare His way,
to give knowledge of deliverance to His people
by the pardoning of their sins
through the depths of the compassion of our God
in which the Dawn will look upon us from on high
to shine upon those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death,
to direct our feet upon the way of peace.

– The Canticle of Zechariah (Luke 1:68-79), translated by Daniel J. Smith