Misericord

Today is All Souls Day, a day of rest. Fortunately, I have succeeded in creating a restful kind of a ‘misericord’ in my home.

Words like ‘misericord’ can otherwise keep me awake for days and nights on end. Mother Anne once accused me of esoteric interests. When I asked her what she meant, she suggested I look up the word (esoteric) in my dictionary. In the first sense of the word 'misericord', I think of the souls of all those who have gone before us. I think today mostly of the love for life that mother Anne let go of on Midsummer Eve earlier this year. In accordance with the etymology of the word, may the good Lord have mercy on her soul.

Today I have also had time to wonder what it is about the ‘misericords’, the carved wooden ledges on the folding seats in churches, that I find so fascinating? Is it because they once allowed the choir to perch, to half sit and rest, while singing a high mass? Having been rehearsing the first soprano part of a modern mass for weeks now, I am still unsure of my ability to make a pure contribution. Misericords were also called “mercy seats” because they provided relief from long hours of rehearsal, and standing in prayer.

It is also some solace to know that they were usually carved by apprentices rather than by the masters. Perhaps my fascination lies more in the fact that their motifs - otherwise hidden from the seated congregation – were privy to the musing of singers like me. In my reading of a novel by Gail Godwin this morning, I learned that they were often elaborately carved with intimate scenes from nature, and everyday domestic life, rather than with religious motifs. They might, for example, depict a pair of snails crawling around one another in circles, childplay, a woman preparing a meal, or a man washing clothes.

According to the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, ‘misericord’ is also a word used to describe the relaxation of a monastic rule, as well a the room reserved for monks who have been granted such dispensation. It is perhaps ironic that just this weekend I have a close friend from out-of-town, who happens to be a monk, visiting. Next weekend, another close friend will come to visit. Needless-to-say it is a pleasure to be able to share ‘misericord’ motifs – room for relaxation – in my home with good friends.