On Sunday was the feast of the Holy Innocents, I off course am late, but this is a feast I have always felt very emotional about. To ponder the killing of these tiny martyrs and the pain the families must have endured. After Marilyn died, someone came to me to give me comfort and said, my sweet daughter is now with these babies. What a beautiful thought, I recalled thinking, an odd comfort but I took it and have spent many a day pondering that. I read recently, and I can't recall where, but I read, that God allowed this to occur because no one would make room for Our dear Mother, on her journey to Bethlehem with child. Anyway, below is words to a song that I found very touching. (oh, by the way....Happy Birthday Carol!)The Feast of the Holy Innocent
113. Since the sixth century, on December 28, the Church has celebrated the memory of those children killed because of Herod's rage against Christ (cf. Mt 2:16-17). Liturgical tradition refers to them as the "Holy Innocents" and regards them as martyrs. Throughout the centuries Christian art, poetry and popular piety have enfolded the memory of the "tender flock of lambs"(125) with sentiments of tenderness and sympathy. These sentiments are also accompanied by a note of indignation against the violence with which they were taken from their mothers' arms and killed.
The Coventry Carol
This beautiful English lullaby carol originated in the Coventry Corpus Christi Mystery Plays performed in the 15th century. In a play called The Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors, the women of Bethlehem sing this song just before Herod's soldiers come to slaughter their children. It tells the story of the murder of the Holy Innocents, and is sung on December 28, the feast of those tiny martyrs.
Lully, Lullay, thou little tiny child. Bye, bye, lully, lullay.Lullay thou little tiny child Bye, bye, lully, lullay
O sisters, too, how may we do, For to preserve this day;This poor Youngling for whom we singBye, bye lully, lullay
Herod the King, in his raging, Charged he hath this day;His men of might, in his own sight,All young children to slay.
Then woe is me, poor child, for thee, And ever mourn and say;For thy parting neither say nor sing, Bye, bye lully, lullay.
