III. Quae Culpa? (What Fault)

[distant male choir] Kyrie eleison... Kyrie eleison... [clear male voice, soft] Quae culpa? What fault is mine, if breath and blood were thy design? If thou didst shape the heart to yearn, why curse the flame thou bade to burn? [low cello] If thou gavest eyes to see, why fear the doubt that follows me? If thou gavest mind and will, why call their questioning an ill? The sea repents not of its tide. The wolf bears teeth and does not hide. The rose seeks pardon from no thorn. Why, then, is man ashamed when born? [distant choir] Kyrie eleison... [lead] What mercy, Lord, wouldst thou bestow for seeds thy hand itself did sow? What stain can mark the potter's clay for taking shape beneath thy sway? [soft percussion enters] Thou madest hunger. Thou madest fire. Thou gavest flesh its first desire. Thou gavest love its ache and art— then laid the blame upon the heart. Quae culpa? Where lies the sin? Within the flesh thou clothedst us in? Within the blood? Within the breath? Within the fear of coming death? [choir, distant] Christe eleison... [lead, quieter] If love be ours because thou willed, why must its cup be shamefully filled? If thought be ours because thou gave, why must the question fear the grave? And if before the first dawn shone thou knew each path that would be known, what guilt belongs to mortal hands for walking roads thy sight had planned? [instrumental rise] No infant bears an ancient stain. No newborn owes a debt of pain. No child should bow in guilt or shame before their lips can speak thy name. [brief pause] If we are thine, then claim us whole— the flesh, the doubt, the restless soul. Do not make fire and curse the flame. Do not make life and call it shame. [low layered choir] Kyrie... [lead, close] Quae culpa? What fault is ours? Thy hand lit the flame; yet we bear the blame. [long pause] If blame must fall where form began... look not upon the clay. [very close whisper] Look to the hand. [one low bell]