The Singing Nun
Hildegard of Bingen said we should sing because we are weak and God is strong.
Compiled and translated by Carmen Acevedo Butcher

"Never stop singing!" commanded Hildegard of Bingen, who had many reasons not to sing. From the time of her birth in 1098 in Germany's middle Rhine Valley, Hildegard was susceptible to illness. She was a spiritually sensitive child, and her physical weaknesses led her to nurture a rich interior life. Hildegard experienced her first vision at age three and began her spiritual quest in earnest at eight, when her parents offered her, their tenth child, to the church as a tithe. Her earliest spiritual experiences involved chanting the Psalms as part of the Benedictine daily prayer services (Opus Dei, or "work of God").

This Benedictine nun lived 81 active, fulfilling years, in spite of regular optical migraines and the reality of living in a man's world. Hildegard founded two convents; organized the first public preaching tours ever conducted by a woman; authored nearly 400 bold letters to popes, emperors, abbesses, abbots, monks, nuns, and laypeople; worked as a healer, naturalist, botanist, dietary specialist, and exorcist; composed daring music; crafted poetry with staying power; wrote the first surviving sung morality play; and wrote three compelling theological works.

Through singing, Hildegard expressed her gratitude for God, and her songs below invite us to take up our own crosses and be thankful with her.

Endless Strength!
Your love authored life
when you spoke that one Word.
You're the One ordering
order, creating
creation, your own
way.
And your Word dressed himself
in flesh, embracing the disobedience-stained
form we inherited from Adam,
and that's how Jesus removed the sadness from his clothes.
The Savior's love liberates the world,
for what's ever been kinder than his incarnation?
His sinlessness breathed life into compassion,
cleaning that sad smudge from the boney outfit every human wears.
Glory to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit!
He erased the anguish from our flesh.

How miraculous-
that a king would stoop
to enter the world
of the ordinary,
of the commoner,
of his subject,
of woman.
But God did this. Why?
Because humility,
ever the lowliest of the low,
always rises-
and triumphs-
over everything else.

When the Creator actually spilled
his blood on the elements,
earth, air, water, and fire
screamed,
collapsed with grief,
shook from sadness.
Now, Father, with this gift
anoint our weaknesses.

Father,
we're so needy.
We beg you,
by your Word
through whom
you made us rich
in everything we lack,
please (we're begging you)
help us, or we'll fail.
Don't let us darken your name with shame.
Help us.

The Holy Spirit animates
all, moves
all, roots
all, forgives
all, cleanses
all, erases
all
our past mistakes and then
puts medicine on our wounds.
We praise this Spirit of incandescence
for awakening
and reawakening
all
creation.

You soar, sustain, and animate,
climb, dive, and sing
your way through this world,
giving life to every beating
heart.
You never end.
You keep circling, crossing over us
on three wings-
one speeds through heaven,
one holds the earth together with a kiss as light as dew,
and one whooshes over, under, and through our lives.
We praise you, Wisdom!

Spirit of fire,
Paraclete, our Comforter,
you're the Live in alive,
the Be in every creature's being,
the Breathe in every breath on earth.
Holy Life-Giver,
Doctor of the desperate,
Healer of everyone broken past hope,
Medicine for all wounds,
Fire of love,
Joy of hearts,
fragrant Strength,
sparkling Fountain,
Protector,
Penetrator,
in you we contemplate
how God goes looking for those who are lost
and reconciles those who are at odds with him.
Break our chains!
You bring people together.
You curl clouds, whirl winds,
send rain on rocks, sing in creeks,
and turn the lush earth green.
You teach those who listen,
breathing joy and wisdom into them.
We praise you for these gifts,
Light-giver,
Sound of joy,
Wonder of being alive,
Hope of every person,
and our strongest Good.

You're the Word of our Father,
the light of the first sunrise,
God's omnipotent thought.
Before anything was made,
you saw it and
designed it and
tucked your all-seeing nature in the middle of your sinew,
like a spinning wheel
with no beginning and no end,
still encircling everything.

Shepherd of our souls, and First Voice
of creation, now let there be .
freedom.
For we're still wretched creatures,
always weary, always weak,
and only you can rescue
us from the unhappiness
we make.