A Divine Lent #20: I would rather weep, much rather weep, than say another word.

A daily reflection during Lent on Dante's The Divine Comedy.

The awkwardness of Canto 13 bleeds over into Canto 14 in Purgatory.  The canto opens with dialogue between two yet-to-be-named souls wondering about Dante.  When faced with an unexpected visitor, they like me are quick to ask another before confronting the newcomer directly.  The soul's inquiry to Dante includes a bit of irony considering the Envious have their eyes sewn shut.

"...please tell

where you are from and who you are.  The grace

that God has given you fills us with awe,

for this is something never seen before."

Dante gives a very round about answer describing his homeland without naming it directly.  This does not go unnoticed by the souls.  I have described my home as "near Chicago" to people outside the US.  It is an easy way to deflect a probing question requiring little expansion.  Everyone has heard of Chicago.  I've answered the question.  To say Champaign leads to more questions, "Where's that?", "Why do you live there?", "What brings you here?".  It's easier to just say, "Chicago" to the taxi driver.

Dante does not answer the question of who he is, claiming,

"there is no point in telling you my name,

for I have not as yet won fame on earth."

Dante compliments himself by projecting future fame, so pride is still his foe.  But this reluctance to share his name, like the same regarding his home, is another sign of Dante wanted to stay distant from the soul's, avoid personal exposure, avoid vulnerability.  I am quick to provide my first name in casual conversation, but to provide my full name and exact home implies the need for future dialogue, maybe an awkward Facebook friend request.  It is much easier to keep things light and distant.

The soul, who much later is identified as Guido del Duca, launches into a litany of grievances against Tuscany, Dante's home.  He likens various communities and leaders to hogs, dogs, wolves, and foxes for the way they prey upon others.  Guido contrasts this with the past virtuous heroes and leaders of his neighboring Romagna.  More than mere nostalgia, this is a real lament of the loss of goodness and the transitory nature of life.  The grief overwhelms Guido.

"But now, go, Tuscan, I would rather weep,

much rather weep, than say another word--

our discourse has so wrung my sorrowing mind." 

This has been a one-sided conversation.  Guido has poured out his deepest feelings to Dante, maybe to a greater degree than Dante wanted, while Dante has stayed pretty distant.  How often have I done the same?

This Lent, may we be open to receiving fully another, especially when we'd rather not.