Misheard Prayers

Growing up Roman Catholic, going to all the ceremonies, serving my time as an altar boy, I knew all the moves and, mostly, I still do. I still know all the prayers too, although they change the words around a little from decade-to-decade, just to remind me that I’m no longer down with the religious kids.

We all had the famous prayers off-by-heart, of course. The Hail Marys and Our Fathers were embedded in there by decades of rosaries (sorry for repeating the word ’decade’ so soon but that’s what rosaries are called… decades). But there were also the ‘harder’ prayers, the ones that you started off quite boldly reciting but, by the middle, an uncertainly about how it actually went. These prayers, ones like ‘The Memorare’ or ‘Hail Holy Queen’ are still belted out today, more often than not at the end of a good funeral. They contain phrases like ‘Despise not my petitions’ and ‘Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us.’ Good stuff like that.

Both of these prayers, and others like them, subscribed to a view of Mary, the mother of Jesus as a sort of a holy intermediary. She is often called on the step-in or ‘intercede’ when a good prayer does not seem to be hitting the mark. The idea, for my Mum at least, was that Jesus and God were often tied up with the big stuff and sometimes didn’t catch the littler pleas. But a word to Mary, who seemed to have time on her hands for this kind of thing, could often bring a solid result. Mary could catch Jesus on a little down-time and gently ‘nudge’ him a bit. “Did you notice that Josephine was asking if her son could do okay in his Junior Cert Exams? I know, I know, it’s manic, but maybe a little something for her? B-Minus, maybe?"

I mention these ‘hard’ prayers because something reminded me of them but, more particularly, something reminded of how I misunderstood one line in one of them when I was small. Although I now know that right words, the old misheard words seem to almost mean more to me, even now.

In 'Hail Holy Queen' the often quoted phrase ‘Valley of Tears’ or ‘Vale of Tears’ pops up. But that’s not it. Right before that phrase, the prayer confirms to Mary that it is indeed, “To thee do we send up our sighs.” When I was small, I clearly understood this line as being ‘To thee do we send up our size.” This was not even a mystery to me. We were sending our measurements up to Mary so that, when we inevitably arrived in heaven, we would have a fine set of afterlife garments all ready-made for us. Maybe even, if we were very good, a pair of wings, made to measure.

If these words ever come up, at a funeral, as they more increasingly do, I always think about scribbling down my inside leg measurement, on a post-in note, and sending it up the chimney and into the waiting arms of Holy Mary. It tends to lighten the severity of the moment, if only temporarily.

Rereading those old prayers for this piece, and looking more carefully at the words, I am reminded of how we reeled off the prayers without really thinking too hard about what we were saying in them. It’s been instructive to read them slowly and to consider the import of the words. One of them asks to be ‘delivered from present evils’ and, God knows, who doesn’t want that? And, of course, if God doesn’t know, a word in Mary’s ear probably won’t go amiss.

It’s like that with Shakespeare too, I find. You can read the words, learn them, and recite them, but if every word doesn’t mean something, if every sentence doesn’t bind together into a coherent thought in your own head, then your reading of them won’t mean anything to anyone who hears you do it.

The same thing with music. I played the accordion when I was a child and I could read the notes of the page and play them in the time required. But, sometimes, I couldn’t actually hear the tune I was playing. It was just a jumble of correctly followed notes. There’s a middle bit in The Blue Danube that was like that for me. Dah dump dah, daaaah da dump dah dah dah. I played it right but it made no sense to me or to anybody else. Then I heard it played right and then I knew what it was and then, when I played it, I could hear it and other people knew it too.

When a good actor performs or reads Shakespeare, and they understand what they are saying (they sometimes don’t) then I have a much increased chance of understanding it too.

So it is with Music and Shakespeare…

And with Prayers…

And with the News…

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