Yesterday, we looked at the first of two hugely popular Orthodox Holy Week hymn surrounding the theme of Christ the Bridegroom. That prayer riffed off of the Parable of the Bridesmaids, with its theme of readiness and preparation for the coming of Christ — in this case for meeting him at his Cross. Today we’ll look at the second prayer that always comes to mind for me when I think about the Bridegroom Matins services for Holy Week in the Byzantine rite, “Your Bridal Chamber.”
This hymn plays on the imagery from the Parable for the Wedding Banquet. If you’ll recall from the series on the Parables last Summer, the Gospels tell this basic story twice, but to very different effect. What is for Luke a story of God’s party-loving generosity takes a darker turn in Matthew, where the banquet is overshadowed by insurrection and retribution, and ends with a party-guest cast out for not wearing the right clothes. It’s still ultimately about the generosity of God’s Kingdom, but focuses more on the clash between it and the kingdoms of this world. The last image draws us inward, insisting that we do some soul-searching about whether our ‘spiritual clothing’ is Kingdom-worthy. The hymn today deploys this last image, but ratchets up the intensity even further by picturing it not as a dinner guest, but the bride herself preparing to enter the bridal chamber:
Your bridal chamber I see adorned, O my Saviour!
But I have no wedding garment that I may enter.
O Giver of Light, enlighten the clothing of my soul and save me.
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!”
The image hangs on the historical detail that wealthy hosts would provide their guests with the clothing to wear to their party. So it’s not a question of someone being too poor to hang out with the fashionable set; rather it’s someone too lazy or proud to put on the clothing they’ve been gifted for the occasion. It ends up then being a perfect image of the ‘grace versus works’ struggle in so much of Christianity. It’s never a question of ‘earning’ our salvation, but of receiving the grace God has given us; but if we truly receive that grace, we will necessarily pay it forward to others, because that’s how God’s economy works. The question before the guest in the parable and the bride in the hymn — and therefore before us — isn’t “Have I done the right things to deserve to be here?” but “Does my life reflect the grace of God given to me?”
Recognizing our need for grace (for we always stand in need of grace), the prayer asks for God to once again renew our clothing. But, in a fun twist, it switches to the more mystical language of the divine light — a critically important image in Eastern mysticism and theology. It’s really asking God, who is Light, to pour out that light into our hearts and souls, so that they will shine — so that we will shine — like Christ at the Transfiguration.
And, because we pray what we believe, trusting that God will indeed “enlighten the clothing of my soul,” the hymn ends in a chorus of “Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!” This may seem odd to Western ears, who are used to there being a moratorium on that word during Lent. But the East knows nothing of that tradition, and if anything, says “Alleluia” more often during Lent. I understand that people will have different opinions about that, but for me the East’s path has always made more sense. Lent isn’t a matter of forgetting how the story ends; rather, as we are in the depths of Lent and Holy Week, we need to remember all the more that we know there is light and life at the end of the tunnel.
At any rate, I love this hymn, as one might expect from something with as rich and juicy theology and spiritual truths as this.
Your bridal chamber I see adorned, O my Saviour!
But I have no wedding garment that I may enter.
O Giver of Light, enlighten the clothing of my soul and save me.
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!”
Matthew Root 