The Tumbler of God Opera by Steven D. Block Libretto by Stephanie Block Dedicated to Dietrich and Alice von Hildebrand, master tumblers Act I, Scene 1: The refectory in Stefano’s monastery During prelude, the monks process into the refectory for their meager evening meal, dipping begging bowls into a common pot and breaking off a piece of bread from common loaves before taking their places. Monks:
My Holy Lady Poverty, the Lord save thee. For my wealth, my spouse, I chose thee. Who can withstand thy generous measure of a man’s soul, shamed by thy treasure, shamed of ambition, shame of the world, thou, dearest bride, priceless pearl?
Stefano:
Old onions. Wormy bread. How can I serve God half-dead?
Monks:
My Holy Lady Poverty, the Lord save thee. For my wealth, my spouse, I chose thee. Sweet handmaid to thee, a gentle sister, Humility weaves her golden hair into a robe for a saint and there all virtues find themselves embroidered.
Stefano:
What charity can remain in a soul bereft of everything?
Monks:
My Holy Lady Poverty, the Lord save thee. For my wealth, my spouse, I chose thee. Ineffable joy to praise, to sing, to enjoy God with the whole being. Creation sustained, spun from nothing, with one duty, with one meaning: the purpose, the pleasure of glorifying the Lord of Hosts, our Father and King.
Prior:
(Grace)Benedicte munera tibi Domine dicata sanctifica, in nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
Monks:
(sitting) Benedicte, Amen.
Prior:
Now we shall gather a small bouquet of little flowers to speed our way. Stefano, today it falls your honor to read to us about Juniper, that simple soul, our venerable brother.
Stefan:
(puts down his bowl, goes to the lectern, and reads.) “Such was his pity, such his compassion, he gave to the poor in whatever fashion – a sleeve or a cowl or some piece of his habit to any half naked poor wretch who could 1
use it. The guardian forbade it, sternly insisting, but Juniper had his own style of resisting.” (Stefano leaves the text and begins to theatrically ad-lib and mime, using an onion and a piece of his habit to make a puppet of Brother Juniper. Stefano uses a cracking voice for the old beggar.) (As beggar:) Woe! Woe! Bedded with sorrow wherever I go! Woe! Woe! I broke my back in the winter snow! Moan and groan! I lost my leg in the miller’s stone! Lack alas! An orphan at eighty and kicked in the ass! Monk 1:
(smiling, aside) Stefano certainly has a way of turning lessons into play!
Stefano:
(Still as beggar:) Woe! Dear is me! The stone took my leg off above the knee! For the love of God, when the poor come beg, Give them a coin or a crust of bread, An’ God give ‘ee mercy when you are dead! (Puppet) Blessed are the merciful, for mercy shall be theirs. Two beggars, we, encumbered here by fortune, sin, and cares. And who shall prove the most in need when taken unawares? (Beggar) For the love of God, give what ye can to this wretched husk of a mortal man. (Puppet) For the love of God, I’m under the Rule And may give you nothing. They say I’m a fool Who has cost the order one habit too many... (Beggar) It needn’t be much....no more than a penny... (Puppet) My pockets are empty...we don’t carry money. I have been strictly forbidden to give up my habit again to anyone. (Beggar) I’m old and poor; I’ve nothing to eat and nothing to wear... For the love of God...
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(Puppet) For the love of God, I’ll not prevent you from taking the habit. Come on! God bless you! They’ll give me another when I get home. Let this one cover those poor old bones! (Stefano the beggar timidly unwraps the puppet’s “habit,” then speaking as himself, with an onion in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other, says:) Now here’s a moral to end the story: Two branches are we from a single glory, a single vine...two members, we, of a single resurrected body. Love be the sap amongst we three: the Lord, our tree, and you and me. Prior:
(speaking) The moral is rich – its mystery is pierced by holy charity.
Stefano:
(speaking to himself as an aside) And yet, the problem is still the same: both monk and beggar poor remain.
Prior:
(speaking, and shepherding Stefano to his place) Stefano, you told the story well. You may now go and finish the meal.
Stefano:
(with some urgency to the prior) Questions and riddles pursue me like hounds, knotting my soul in their twisted rounds. It’s generous, taking the sleeve off your arm, but it’s only a sleeve and no one is warm.
Prior:
Patience, Stefano. You have much to learn, much to suffer to find your peace. That He may prevail, you must decrease.
Act I, Scene 2: Town square where the monks beg for bread (Many classes of people pass) Monk 1:
Most High, Almighty Good Lord, yours are the praises, the glory, the honor, the blessings! To You, alone, Most High, do they belong yet no man is worthy to mention You. (A wealthy man drives by in his carriage and throws out a fat purse.)
Several Monks:
God love you! Be praised, my Lord, with all Your creatures, especially good Brother Sun, by whom You give us the light of day! And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor! Of You, Most High, he is a symbol. (A group of chatting, laughing women go by on their way to market. A few
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give coins.) Monk 1:
God bless you!
Several monks:
Be praised, my Lord, for Sister Moon and the Stars! In the sky you formed them bright and lovely and fair. (Various other alm givers pass.)
Monk 1:
God love you! God bless you!
Several monks:
Be praised, my Lord, for Brother Wind and for the Air and Cloudy and Clear and all Weather, by which You give sustenance to Your creatures. Be praised, Lord, for Sister Water who is very useful and humble and lovely and chaste. (A cripple passes and the monks slip the wealthy man’s purse, unknown to the cripple, over the handle of his crutch.)
Monk 1:
God love you!
Monks:
Be praised, my Lord, for Brother Fire, by whom You give us light at night, and he is beautiful and merry and mighty and strong. Be praised, my Lord, for our Sister/Mother Earth, who sustains and governs us and produces fruits with colorful flowers and leaves. Be praised, my Lord, for those who forgive for the love of You and endure infirmities and tribulations. (A very poor woman gives a coin and the monk who receives it kisses her hand while another monk slips more money back into her basket.)
Monk 1:
...dure them in peace, for by You, Most High, they will be crowned! (A coffin is carried past and a pall bearer hands Stefano a flower)
Monks:
Be praised, my Lord, for Sister Bodily Death, from whom no man can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Blessed are those she will find in Your Most Holy Will, for the second death will not harm them. Praise and bless my Lord and thank Him and serve Him with great humility.
Stefano:
(contemplating his begging bowl and speaking) So many gifts to a worthless friar.
Monk 1:
(cheerfully, also speaking) But all to be given again to the poor, plus a coin or two to pay for supper.
Stefano:
My heart itches...curious...restless...
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Old Monk: (speaking) God is a good Father, ever aware of your needs and inarticulate prayer. He will bring you to harbor, my storm-tossed son... Stefano:
Hush! Hush! Do you hear? Horns...a drum! The mummers come! (A parade of 20 or so masked people dance into the square, evocative of Bosch’s Ship of Fools. The Master of Ceremonies wears “artful” rags, looking rather like a disheveled bishop.)
MC
Ha! Ha! Ha! Noble countrymen, gentlefolk all, a godly people – at least to Baal: prepare your hearts for a parable and see if you don’t agree that the fool is seldom exception and often the rule. (MC changes character and as he sings, the action is mimed by dancers using masks and body puppets) Respectable people, gather round. The youngest – respectable; oldest – a clown. Brothers – two: well educated. Their thirst for God, though, unabated, never sated. Holy men, wholly respectable. (mimists pass by two brothers, obsequiously bowing) People came round. Made a spectacle, bowing and scraping before intellectual, noble fraternity. Eldest: eternity mindful finds brown-nosing painful, shameful and speculates:
Eldest brother:
Did God bear stripes because of me? Take scorn and fixing to a tree that I might wallow swinish, prigged in false respectability?
Youngest Brother:
Why are you always so melancholy? God gave you gifts to fructify wisely. He has done everything to redeem us – So praised be to God and hush!
MC
Foolish men will never rest – roaming, random – till they home in Thy
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breast. Play the fool, then, learn how men – responsive, humane – go insane. (The eldest disguises himself by removing his mask and becoming a beggar/fool, behaving madly – pulls off his breeches and puts them on his head, plays see-saw with the children, tears his clothes, wears shoes like earrings. The children begin to tease and beat the “madman,” who only laughs and blesses them. Those who before honored the man, now mock him and threaten to burn him with paper torches, dancing around him furiously. Death rubs his hands in anticipation. But then the younger brother comes forward, and decorum instantly resumes.) Reason rules – whoever rules is not the proper toy of fools. For give the fool the final word and you’ve a lesson full absurd. (The younger brother attempts to put the elder’s mask back in place, but he keeps pulling it off, smiling idiotically, bruised and bloodied.) Mummers
Forgive us, forgive us – mea culpa, mea culpa. Such a fellow, such a mess. Forgive us!
Eldest brother:
I was not the man you injured. You have ever been my brothers. Generous and gracious neighbors, nothing bad was done to me – who has some money and property, respectability. Such a man you have not battered – just a worthless, lousy beggar, just a friendless, hopeless loony. Beg the pardon of the madman, little one, by whom you’ve show precisely how you honor Him!
Mummers: Forgive us! Forgive us! For our sins, beg the pardon of the madman. Youngest brother:
Come home now. The farce is ended. The point was made and overextended.
MC
Home. Sweet word, to those with none. Come home, with open arms. Yearn for His love. Warm. Home. Never alone. Fools of God then let us be, to find our home in eternity. (Mummers reverently parade a statute of the Good Shepherd) And for the fools who have spoken true, a penny for supper and God bless you!
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(The mummers change masks and become beggars, cripples, fools, jugglers, acrobatics, catatonics – making a mad parade behind Christ. Last of the crowd is the MC, collecting money in his hat.) Stefano:
Whose heart has heard and not been broken? Given what fragments we are to suffer the painful truths in music spoken: sharp consciousness of being other. Art and nature strain to an ache that heart, whose effort to embrace a shimmering chord, an autumn breath frosted to the light and smelling of earth cannot.
Old Monk: We also must be fools for God, tumblers who tumble the world upsidedown. We die to live...this foolishness is the greatest wisdom. Stefano:
Then let me tumble before the Lord as a mummer; a monk no more. Sing this glory – a clown before men and with my own nature in greater accord.
Old Monk: Think, Stefano, before you tumble. Even a mummer must learn to be humble. Whatever the task, wherever you run, The end is the same – to come home. Stefano:
(approaching the MC mummer) Do you suppose I might join the troupe?
MC
Surely, if you are sufficient an idiot, stomaching nonsense for your diet.
Stefano:
(to the monks) I shall sing glory high and low. By God! I’ll give them such a show! (Stefano follows the mummers)
Act II, Scene 1: Ducal palace courtyard; Stefano’s troupe performing (The curtain opens on a handsome, cultured court – including several high ecclesiastics. Also present is the old monk from Stefano’s monastery, conspicuously out of place but personally at ease. Courtyard has a large pool in its middle, reflecting moonlight and lantern light.) Female
Out of her purse she pulled a horn
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chorus:
whose sound has gathered in the bees... mellifluous, spring to symphony bowed by the boughs of chestnut trees; Out of her purse she pulled a cup to bail an abundance out of dew... she boughs her head with chestnut leaves off her work to say grace, to give praise. Larkspur who by their being sing, pity me in my summer, sleeping. (A fanfare announces the troupe – grown exceedingly refined and elaborate. The Duke settles his guests. Stefano is the MC, with only the brown cord of his habit to remind one that he was once a monk. This version of the mummer’s play is not only visually more splendid, but is stylistically more mannered. The troupe processes into the courtyard .and takes its position)
Stefano:
Gentlemen, splendor of earth, pride of heaven spread out before us a bright constellation... Ladies, whose beauty makes roses weep, of prodigal kindness and virtues sweet... Tonight, for delight and for edification a little play of your Lord’s selection: A well-born man, handsome and wealthy, prosperous, prudent, thrifty and healthy this evening decides to throw a party. (The mummer/guests arrive in velvet cloaks; other mummers personify “snow” and dust the area with white sparkles; still others carry pendants with symbols of the winter solstice.)
Female guest: Male guest: Chorus:
Are you ready?
Rich man:
I was prepared to turn out for the weather in brilliant jeweled anthems and catechized answers.
Actress:
But the wrap of the city, the first snow, has cheated and unlauded tiptoed down through, past the rooftops and resting one finger in hush on my window
Are you ready? ...pipes and reedy winds to play a joyous welcome in?
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(duet with rich man)
a guest in the lonely, moist, long-shadowed grayness that silently beckons the ruddy new day in, the yet unexpected though ever awaited, comes perched on my doorstep to welcome my rising.
Chorus:
Are you ready, pipes and reedy winds, to play a joyous welcome in?
Rich man:
Forgive me, my friends – you, who likewise tomorrow, post-seasoned, will knock on the door only after the table is fast packed away in the closet, instruments folded up. (an extravagant papier-mâché banquet is presented)
Actress:
But Love, a strange host...
Rich man with Chorus:
...knows no unwelcome. Come when you can – with a song or unsung. (Some mime the playing of medieval instruments; others perform a courtly dance reminiscent of Botticelli’s Primavera. One of the ladies persuades the rich man to dance with her and as the music grows livelier, the dancing becomes more frenzied, until the rich man collapses - a prototype of what Stefano will do at the end of the opera. )
Stefano:
This is the night when the Angel of Death kisses the rich man with his breath and what will become of his storehouses now? (The guests form a funeral procession, imitating mourners, miming the rending of their clothes and wailing. The body is carried aside and the Actress remains alone, grieving and reflective.)
Actress:
I knew a young man once. His name was roses in the dew and smells of honey in a basket and the handspun lace of ladies with their fingers bent and wrinkled. And I watched his every moment; held his words like baby pipits to my heart. I moved his movement and I rose and fell like breathing with his waxing and his waning. I knew a young man once.
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His name was roses in the dew and smells of honey in a basket... but was too the lovely web that old ones weave so well and tightly and they stabbed my heart upon it with their golden bobs and needles. (She exits slowly. Stefano takes center stage while the players perform a ballet to accompany his presentation of the “moral.”) Stefano:
Vanity, vanity. Death makes all vanity. Therefore, expend all your dear perspiration to mass up in heaven your accumulation. Lay treasures of virtue in Christ’s own manger that when you arrive you will not be a stranger.
Chorus:
Let Peter award you the keys to the house: “Well done, good servant, who did not flout the charge to be fruitful and multiply all you were given from God’s supply.” Let all be given to grasp the pearl, to earn the starry diadem, To reach the King’s own table set with every joy, with each delight.
Stefano:
Do not set stock by earthly pleasure but rather acquire celestial treasure. The moment is earthly vanity, but oh, long is eternity! (The dancers whirl out – followed by cheerful applause.)
Duke:
Delightful! A story for edification, encouraging all to beatification.
Chorus:
Delightful! A story for edification, encouraging all to beatification.
Duke:
Charming, Stefano. Inspiring, enlightening... a moral well-pondered. (teasing) Must I then consider a loftier means to dispose of your payment? Perhaps I shall use it to purchase some Masses.... (Stefano and the troupe are clearly stung by this suggestion.)
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Stefano:
A laborer, lord, is worth his hire and to be honored at this later hour!
Duke:
What greater honor than the Holy Pearl? Your play conveyed the lesson well.
Actress:
(raving mad) Allow us to tend to our own feeble souls and leave us the means to live meanwhile. We haven’t provisions stored up in surplus...
Duke:
My! You are putting up such a fuss!
Actress:
I would like to eat tomorrow! Do these costumes cost us nothing? Slippers growing by the river? Jewelry, powder, plucked like flowers by a fecund August roadside? Shall we kiss the cash to Masses? If you’ve gold for your salvation, spend it on a self-donation. What I’ve rightly earned is mine. Heaven can have it some other time! (She snatches the purse from a bemused Duke.)
Duke:
Ah, my dumpling, we plainly see pragmatics are prior to piety.
Actress:
Charity, lord, is a noble luxury.
Duke:
It is, at least, nobility. (Stefano takes the purse from the actress)
Stefano:
And noble gifts have their own rewards; We fed the soul and deserve just desserts.
Duke:
(laughing) And the righteous deserve a peaceful repose, Satisfied...careless...as God knows. Well, we’ve been satisfied well thus far; Our couches will sate the coming hour.
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Chorus:
(All exiting except Stefano) Delightful! The night’s been an edification, a great amusement and satisfaction. (Stefano is left alone, except for a few servants, musing as lanterns are snuffed, leaving only moonlight reflected in the pool. When they leave, he hears the old monk, intoning his Office.)
Old Monk: Domina, labia mea aperies: et os meum annuntiabit laudem tuam. Deus in adiutorium meum intende: Domine ad adiuvandum me festina. Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen. Alleluia. Dominum deum nostrum venite adoremus. Venite exultemus Domino, iubilemus Deo salutari nostro: praeoccupemus faciem eius in confessione: et in psalmis iubilemus ei. Dominum deum nostrum venite adoremus. Dom... (startled to see Stefano) Forgive me, my son, if I have disturbed you. At night, this hall is usually deserted. Stefano:
It’s lovely for musing...the moon on the water...
Old Monk: ...It’s lovely for prayer... Stefano:
Confide in me, Brother, whose faithful beloved is Lady Poverty, what your opinion was of tonight’s play.
Old Monk: Honestly, friend, I’m hardly a critic of dance or poetry. But there was something...you...failed to say... Stefano:
Please, would you speak a bit more to the point?
Old Monk: Do you know the fear and trembling of the richly blessed, the wealthy for whom heaven is harder than a camel’s passage through a needle? Do you know their consternation, who’ve not tasted deprivation; Suddenly they may discover bankruptcy eternal horror. Left to journey to the Father naked, penniless, they shudder
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unprepared. You played no terror in this evening’s presentation. It was empty exploitation. Stefano:
Brother, all these nightly vigils render you too dark and serious. Gifts, when used most liberally are used quite well and richly.
Old Monk: But they curse the path of poverty. Stefano:
Then curse her path! I have well seen that grasp of hers, enveloping, frightening, deadly, suffocating...
Old Monk: No, my friend, we must embrace her! She, beloved little sister, our betrothed, heart’s desire. By God’s grace, she shall requite us surfeit at the Father’s banquet. Stefano:
Innocent infants are crushed at her bosom!
Old Monk: She has made saints of the tiniest children! Stefano:
Men become beasts for a crust of bread!
Old Monk: Poverty teaches how souls may be fed! Stefano:
She has torn friends apart, severed the family...
Old Monk: She has established the bonds of deep brotherhood... Stefano:
She shakes her clock and spills illness and suffering...
Old Monk: She gives us suffering to bring Divine Charity... Stefano:
She has impounded the joy of millions...
Old Monk: She has made pregnant the joy of millions... For Jesus, the Christ, and blest be His Name, took up her mantle to save man from sin, telling mankind to follow Him. Forgive, my son, if I have disturbed you.
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Stefano:
Humility...poverty...you are a fool!
Old Monk: (genuinely pleased) Bless you! Pray God that it may be so! (the old friar resumes his office and Stefano fingers his old brown cincture) Quoniam Deus magnus Dominus et rex magnus super omnes deos quoniam non repellet Dominus plebem suam. Venite, adoremus. Act III, Scene 1: The slums; Stefano’s troupe performing before the poor. Stefano:
Exploitation? Exploitation?
Actress:
Stefano, what do you think you’re doing, Dragging us into this part of town?
Stefano:
Exploitation? I have put Art at the service of the Lord’s Name. Exploitation? And a half-witted monk sees it as personal gain, Wealth and acclaim. Exploitation? I can dance before high and low, my step the same... Exploitation! Caution the first and comfort the last, nothing in vain! My purpose plain! Exploitation!
A ruffian:
(fingering Stefano’s lace collar and indicating the actress) What have we here? Just look at this! A frilly dandy and his dimpled miss!
Ruffian 2:
Charity, lady...a big kiss! (he attempts to grab her, but Stefano deflects him.)
Stefano:
We are only players who dance for the Lord...
Woman 1:
You’re only a silly, soft, lily-white turd!
Old woman:
We used to have mummers come clown in the slums with a big parade and fine, noisy drums...
Beggar:
These folks are tourists to take in the sights and pass out their gold...am I not right?
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Woman with a child: Stefano:
Charity, lady...for my baby... Musicians, play. Let the dance begin. Make our purpose plain above the din. (they strike up, but the crowd presses closer, annoyed)
Man:
Stuff of the nobles...I know in advance that these ain’t the tunes to which peasants dance.
Man 2:
They reek of court, of comfort, of gold... Appease your conscience in your own asshole.
Stefano:
Ladies and gentlemen, dear little children, we will play miracles, wonders of heaven. Come, friends, a moment’s diversion is all...
Madman:
And they let him loose, this crazy madman!
Ruffian 1:
I like to divert your stuffed head through the wall!
Woman 2:
What’s the commotion? Who’s causing a scene?
Man 1:
A crackpot, a loony, who’s bursting his seams.
Woman 3:
Your fancy clothes mock us, you slippery goat!
Stefano:
Allow us a story...pray, where’s the harm? (ruffian seizes him) God help me! The fellow is breaking my arm! We came here in peace...a gospel tale...
Ruffian 2:
I’ll give him a fist, right down his throat!
Woman 3:
The generous Christian, with his perfumed smell... But a devil’s tail! (She throws a stone at Stefano; there is some scuffling with mummers attempting to protect their women and others running away, pursued.)
Two men:
God and His priests with their hooves on your back, feeding on the blood of your own lack.
Actress:
Come Stefano, we’re out of place...
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(Stefano and she are struck with stones) Stefano:
I am a Singer, in God’s grace!
Ruffian:
Hypocrite! God will spit in your face!
Woman:
Run, you squeaky missionaries with your pretty words and your fat bellies! (The stones are flying and the actress drags Stefano off against his will.)
Chorus:
Go where you are affordable and don’t be bothering simple people. We have nothing to give. You don’t belong. And you can’t buy us for a mere song. Prideful men will never be a comfort for our misery.
Act III, Scene 2: Outside Stefano’s monastery and in the monastery chapel. The morning is gray and Stefano is seated alone on the church steps.) Stefano:
(picking up a stone) Penance of paradox: Be praised, my Lord, for Brother Stone, who is steadfast, inflexible, knocking some sense into these dull wits. There is no peace in my own ends. Be praised, my Lord, for Brother Stone. Barren bedrock no less than jewels can split the crown. How poor the man left to his own means. Be praised, my Lord. (As Stefano sits musing on the steps, a religious procession in honor of the Virgin Mary comes on stage. A crucifix is carried by altar boys, followed by candle bearers, followed by three priests and then the monks, carrying a statue of Our Lady. Behind them are people of varying estates, bringing gifts appropriate to their means (flowers, fruit, elaborate boxes, etc.). They carry the statue up the steps and into the church, placing it in a niche – back lighting reveals the church interior. The donations are left at the foot of the statue and the procession moves off stage.)
Processional Chorus:
Verbum supernum, prodiens e Patris aeterni sinu, qui natus orbi subvenis, labente cursu temporis: Illumina nunc pectora,
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Tuoque amore concrema; ut cor caduca deserens caeli voluptas impleat. Ut, cum tribunal Iudicis damnabit igni noxios, et vox amica debitum vocabit ad caelum pios; Non esca flammarum nigros volvamur inter turbines, vultu Dei sed compotes caeli fruamur gaudiis. (Stefano stops one of the last old women in the procession.) Stefano:
What feast, please, brings forth this most splendid display of devotion, parade, and pageant today?
Old Woman:
Atheist! Have you no eyes to see? What day but the Feast of Nativity! (She hobbles off and Stefano is again alone. Stefano goes up to the statue and addresses it.)
Stefano:
Ave, fair Queen. I know it’s presumptuous to address marble, but stone is my element. Just like you, I was sculpted from dust. Lord! I’m so tired, but there’s no rest. Only puzzles and perplexities. So many ways for a man to be wealthy; So liberal the Lord with His gifts. But rich spirits, glutted, become unhealthy and usurp the Master when not servants. Pride, Madonna, has cost me my soul, I, who have not used my riches well.
Madonna:
(living and swathed in tremendous light) The final humiliation for sin is allowing oneself to be forgiven.
Stefano:
God help me! Brother Stone grows sentient... Speaking to me from my own madness...
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Madonna
Never, Stefano, saner. Thou shalt see thyself most clearly now. Swallow thy fear for glory.
Stefano:
My mind reels...
Madonna:
For thy salvation, relate a story: Tell me again of the prodigal son. I think it must be my favorite one.
Stefano:
(dazed but obedient) I...I...I’ll borrow a few of these fancy toys. (He collects objects to make puppets) Please meet the papa and his two boys. The younger, wild...the elder, wise.... Imagine their dear papa’s surprise when the youngest proclaims his independence a makes a demand for half the inheritance! Imagine the poor papa’s chagrin when his dumpling opts for a life of sin. It’s off to the city where life is inviting and busy, the very pavement exciting! But then, as it almost always happens, fortune varies – a shift in the wind. Money spent, friends went. It’s tough to be poor and hell-bent. Bad luck! Famine struck. Buy an apple, pay a buck! Poor little fellow went looking for jobs... Found himself tending a wallow of hogs. Fatten them up but it’s never enough and there isn’t a drop for his own cup! Home! Home...after a roam... Asking little...throw me a bone. Drag yourself back, remorseful sinner, drawn by the hope of a little dinner. Papa waits, vigilant. Spies the lad, coming. Runs to him, glad! “I am not worthy to be your son...” But deaf in his joy that the boy is home, Dad starts a feast, a fatted calf.
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The boy’s been a fool, but, by God! he’s back! (Prior enters) You’d think that would make a good spot to end but the story goes on and it takes a bend: Chorus, offstage:
Gloria in excelsis Deo!
Stefano:
The older brother, the one who was faithful, finds partying sinners extremely distasteful. He stomps away. “But for your gray, I’d leave you for good with this wanton exhibit, for a prodigal! Yet, all the while I served you well. Where’s my reward?” But, oh! What patience was in the father!
Prior:
Hush, Stefano. Be still, I say! Mass is in progress; You must inhibit this frenzied fancy, this wanton exhibit, in the most holy temple of the Lord. He’s deaf to the world... I’m bringing the father.
Chorus:
... et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. Laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te, gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam, Domine Deus, Rex caelestis Deus Pater omnipotens, Domine Fili unigenite, Iesu Christe, Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis; qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram. Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis. Quoniam tu solus Sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus Altissimus, Iesu Christe, cum Sancto Spiritu: in gloria Dei Patris. Amen.
(singing over the rest of Stefano’s speech)
Stefano:
“Everything mine is yours, dear heart: the fatted calf, the cask of wine... but my son was dead, who went apart and lives again to again be mine. (Stefano dances with abandon) “So into the feast, my son. Rejoice! Let us embrace in a manly dance,
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a dance to answer every question, a dance of forgiveness, of restitution, of consolation, or resurrection!” (Stefano collapses. Prior, other priests, and monks enter.) Father, oh Father! (Stefano dies.) Prior:
See, father...
Madonna:
Rest, poor fool, you’ve tumbled home, straight into your Father’s arms. Joyful in your Father’s arms, rest, poor fool you’ve tumbled home.
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