By Menios Papadimitriou
The nun Kassia occupies a unique place in Orthodox Church history and liturgics. The learned monastic and musician who lived in Constantinople in the ninth century is one of two women of the Byzantine period who wrote in her own name (the other is Anna Comnena) and the only known woman whose compositions appear in the Byzantine liturgy. About fifty hymns are attributed to her, but her eponymous “Hymn of Kassiani” stands out as one of the most recognizable and beloved pieces of music in the Orthodox world. Calling out to the Divine in contrition, “Accept the fountains of my tears, You who draw out from the clouds the water of the sea. Take pity on me; Do not despise me,” the melodist captures the rawness of human vulnerability in her lucid and lyrical verse.
Kassia’s hymn of repentance is heard in Orthodox Christian churches on Great and Holy Tuesday evening. Composed in the first person, the choir takes the voice of one who is exceptionally vulnerable and on the social periphery in first-century Palestine—not just a woman, but also a sex worker. The piece is profoundly sympathetic with the human experience, and perhaps it is its ability to evoke emotional memories of shame and fear of judgment that makes it so beloved.
“If you are in this Church tonight expecting God to critique your life and the decisions you have made, I want you to think again.” Archbishop Elpidophoros of America said at Kimisis Theotokou Brooklyn on Tuesday, April 19, 2022, asking the congregation, “does the Bridegroom [Christ] look like a judge to you?”
In her contemporary world, the woman of the hymn is powerless and susceptible to rejection. Although she was weak and vulnerable, she possessed a great deal of love and openly offered it. “It is on the basis of our love that our forgiveness will be measured,” the Archbishop said in his homily, adding, “and not because God is unwilling to give it; but because we do not know how to receive it. And she did not let anyone get in her way either. Imagine what was being muttered in that room, as everyone knew her reputation. But she did not let that stop her. She persisted, even if others resisted.
And when the thoughts of the hypocrites were read by the Lord, He asked them all in front of her: “Do you see this woman here? I entered your home, and you offered Me no water for My feet. But this woman? She washed My feet with her tears and dried them with the hairs of her head. You gave Me no kiss. But this woman? From the moment she entered, she has not ceased to caress My feet with kisses. You provided Me no oil to anoint My face. But this woman? She anointed My feet with myrrh. This is why I say to you, that her many sins are forgiven because she loved much. But if you are forgiven only a little, you love only a little.”
Kassia’s hymn is likely inspired by a narrative trope attested to in all four gospels: an unknown sinful woman who performs an honorific anointing of Jesus’ feet with costly perfume, using her long hair to dry His feet—something regarded as an exceptional gesture. Considerable ink has been spilled over the identity of the woman, the location, timing, and the message. One aspect of the story seems clear—that the followers of Christ miss the point of the moment, which Jesus makes clear: the woman has signaled his impending death and burial.
But she is not simply a harbinger of Christ’s death. She is the first of the myrrh bearers—the ostensibly powerless women who go fearlessly, weeping, to anoint the body of Christ, and who encounter the power of the resurrection of “the One Who comes to set us free from our failings, our sins, and the guilt and shame that come with them.” Unlike the named myrrh bearers who discover the empty tomb, the great irony of the unknown woman is in Jesus’ prediction that the story will always be told “in memory of her”— a woman whose very name escapes the Gospel witness.
Source: Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America