Neither More Nor Less
By Br. Maximilian Mary Anderson, O.S.B., and Br. Jean-Marie Hogan, O.S.B.
Performing José de Valdivielso’s “The Phoneix of Love”
This article was originally published in our May 2025 Kansas Monks newsletter. Read the whole newsletter at www.kansasmonks.org/newsletter/may2025
On Saturday, March 22, we had the opportunity to perform in a play, “The Phoenix of Love”, during a session of Benedictine College’s Symposium on Transforming Culture in America. The play is an allegory in which Christ and Lucifer are rival suitors to Soul and was written by José de Valdivielso some four centuries ago as an auto sacramental (sacramental act). These were meant to be performed on a cart in Eucharistic processions, usually encouraging people to attend the mass at the end and to receive the Eucharist as frequent communion was not common at the time. It was translated into English only recently by our friend, Mr. Christopher Rziha, and performed in English for the first time at the Symposium (sadly, not on a moving cart, nor, sadder still, with Mass immediately following). Br. Jean-Marie was cast in the role of Christ our Lord; Br. Maximilian played a demon. Notwithstanding our disparate roles, for both of us, it was a gift to be in the play at all for it afforded us familiarity with the play’s rich text. Here, we’d like to share a moving excerpt and recommend reading the play when Mr. Rziha publishes his translation.
The first time Jesus appears in the play he is accompanied by two angels who have an exchange that is sparked by Christ asking them how much his love for Soul has cost Him. The angels begin with the following:
Did you not descend into the womb of your mother? / Were you not born into such a state, / that you barely resembled / a son of your Father? / Did we not see you shivering in the cold; / with rivulets of stars / running from the heavens to the sea / down your angelic cheeks?
Later they say:
Did we not see you, sweet Lord / imprisoned, spit on, bound / blindfolded as an enamored one / simply for being the God of Love?
Did they not tear away the clothing / that had fused onto your wounds, / and in order to give death to Life living / did they not scourge you?
At the end of the angel’s exchange Christ himself responds to their account by saying:
I am a true lover; / and although marked with wounds, / all this seems to me but a little / for how deeply I desire her. / If I sweated, it was from the flaming heat / that her beauty ignited within me; / hers was the fever / that made me perspire. / If my clothing I shed, / it was because I was burning, / and it was in order to keep going on / after the sheep that had strayed. / That I thirsted I do not deny, / but it was due to the great warmth / that is given by a love / that is on fire. / And as for the rest that you have said, / you have shown my good intentions, / for I knew neither how to give less / nor how to love Soul more.
In describing Christ’s Passion, the angels connect his being blindfolded (cf. Luke 22:64) with a classical image of the god of love. In Greek mythology, this particular deity was usually depicted with his eyes covered, suggesting that he caused people to fall in love without regard for external appearances. As used by the angels, this image implies that Christ willingly underwent the torments of the Passion because of his love for Soul.
Christ depicts his Passion in terms of the fire of love that burned within him. Relating how he “sweated” in the Garden, “shed” his clothing, and “thirsted” on the Cross, he says that he was urged on by the “flaming heat” enkindled by Soul’s beauty. Though comparing Soul to the wandering sheep (cf. Matthew 18:12), he speaks of her with such fervor that one angel responds, “From here on I rest assured / that the one on this occasion / who gives glory to his passion / is indeed so passionate.” Christ has this same fervor for each and every one of us. In the midst of the Easter season this year, let us allow ourselves to be moved by all he endured for the sake of our salvation and eternal bliss.
Christ has this same fervor for each and every one of us. In the midst of the Easter season this year, let us allow ourselves to be moved by all he endured for the sake of our salvation and eternal bliss.
As the play vividly reminds us, each mass is a marriage feast at which our souls are meant to be united with Christ who suffered on the Cross and rose victorious from the tomb out of love for us. As Eucharist comes from the Greek for “thanksgiving”, let us be grateful to him that he “knew neither how to give less / nor how to love [us] more.”
