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If you love Coptic hymnology, then this is not for you. If you know this hymn, and love it, then this is not for you. Your own meditation and reflection is more than anyone else can offer you. But if you have ignored hymns, avoided them or (let’s be honest) flat out disliked them, then maybe today will be a first. Submit yourself for the next seven minutes to reading along and hearing (maybe for the first time) what lies underneath the surface of a Coptic hymn.
The most basic appreciation that we can have for the hymns is the meaning of the words themselves. We can meditate solely on the simple words of Fai Etafenf and appreciate the weight of the Love of Christ in offering Himself on our behalf on the cross. One point that we can meditate on is that the hymn does not say “He who was offered up against His will” but rather “He who offered Himself up.” Christ prayed in Gesthemane for the cup to pass for Him, but in the end submitted Himself to the will of the Father for the good of mankind. If that is enough to chew on for now, then stop reading now and meditate on this while you listen to the hymn.
If your attention is still wandering, then let us dig a little deeper into the actual hymnology. First let us define a term, “melisma,” that is common to many coptic hymns, meaning “a group of notes sung to one syllable of text.” This is a musical tool used often by classical composers like Handel (remember “Messiah” with the Hallelujah Chorus?) and has been popularized in modern gospel music by artists like Aretha Franklin, Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston. Why melisma? It emphasizes a certain word or words to allow them to take a position of prominence in a song or hymn. It also allows the composer to create a mood or a feeling using the music; for example, we can listen to Beethoven’s Ode to Joy and say “this is happy music” without really knowing what the funny German people are saying.
In Fai Etafenf we hear the notes ascend, then descend, then ascend, then ascend some more and stay high. I know what you’re thinking “yeah, pretty much like every coptic hymn - it goes up, it goes down, it keeps going, and going - so what?” Well these ups and downs begin to take on some meaning when we pay attention to what is being said for these ups and downs. For example, when we say the word “epshoi” which literally means “up” we actually go up then down and then up again. Why? The author of this hymn is not around to tell us for sure but one contemplation is that Christ offered himself up by first leaving heaven (up), coming down to earth through the incarnation (down) and then offering himself up. We can hear that the lowest point of the hymn is actually during this word “up,” perhaps because of how low Christ had to go in order for him to offer himself up for us.
When Christ was on the cross He gave up the spirit with the words “it is finished,” which we can connect to the the singing of the word “pistavros” (the cross). First of all, this is the musical climax of the whole hymn, in that it ascends without descending. It is the pinnacle of the hymn, just as it is the pinnacle of His Love for us. It is the end of the intensely melismatic portion of the hymn (the subsequent words are said rather quickly), which musically conveys that in the cross Christ completes the work of "becoming human" through sacrifice.
To conclude, let us point out a simpler but still connected hymnological point - why do we sing to Christ 10 times a day “Thine is the power, glory and blessing” on a week where we know He will be crucified? The answer is in the paradox of the cross, that the ultimate perfection comes through weakness. We do not always see what God sees, and it may take us a lifetime to begin to truly understand. He sees the beauty of the flower in a completely different way, that maybe a botanist may partially understand more than we do. May we pray for God to increase our understanding so that we may have more of an appreciation for all the beautiful things He has created for us.
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