The Song of Violetta, Our Song - A Lenten Meditation From the Opera

Some time ago, I was having a sleepover with my best friend - it was pretty fun, and we did a lot. But the one thing that stuck in my mind was the opera we watched: the Gheorghiu/Lopardo production of La Traviata (The Fallen Woman). And within that, one part in particular, here.

It's a very famous part in the opera, but it didn't strike me for its fame - it struck me for its familiarity. The woman - Violetta Valery - and her song were all too familiar. The words are now almost painful to hear, knowing them. Violetta sings as though she hasn't a care in the world, doesn't she? And even the two words she always repeats are so carefree and pleasured; "Sempre Libera!," or "Ever Free!," she sings. And yet, there is a tone of pain. Who could guess that just before this, she was singing a different tune? A sad, drawn, and pained one, with a melody quite heartrending. And within that, she was singing of something else entirely.
In Sempre Libera, Violetta sings "Libera" (free), "Gioia!" (joy), "Follie!" (folly), and "Piacere" (to pleasure). So it seems she has forgotten her anxiety of before. But then suddenly a voice drifts in from the outside... a voice Violetta knows. The voice of Alfredo, Violetta's only faithful admirer, drifts in. She - being the fallen woman that she is - scorned him for being faithful, laughing at him. But that didn't change Alfredo. It did change Violetta, though. The melody Alfredo sings in the distance recalls when he first revealed his faithfulness to her, and it haunts Violetta, but she nonetheless tries to regard it as "Follie!" and enjoy herself. The words describe love, but in a different way from the love Violetta knows - "Mysterious, high, both cross and pleasure..." Violetta does not know of anything like this, and is disturbed.
The sad song of before, Ah, Forse Lui (Ah, Perhaps He...), spoke not of death, or pain, or really anything like that... and yet, it terrified Violetta and brought out mourning from her. It spoke of Alfredo, oddly enough, and Violetta considered to herself whether to actually stop and have love, serious, true love. She has never even thought about this before - Violetta is a prostitute, you see, originally from very poor beginnings - and faithful love is a strange idea to her. And a terrifying idea. Violetta's carefree joy seems to come from her later thoughts, that she must be free and enjoy herself, and love and party as she pleases, and only anxiety comes from thinking about faithful love and giving things up. How familiar.

The words remind me firstly of our culture - how many times have we heard nowadays from our public that we need to be free, be ourselves, enjoy life to its fullest? And they, unfortunately, suggest doing so in the same way as Violetta. They tell us that loving as we please and withholding from ourselves nothing we really want is the way to enjoy ourselves, the only way to be free and empowered. They tell us that it's all about us, and not about love really. And so we enjoy ourselves. We gallivant and break hearts and go about being 'ever free,' a stranger to anything other kind of love. And then, when faced with true love, we are confused. Maybe even pained. 'Why do we have to give other loves up for one?,' 'Why should we be faithful?,' 'Why must we have love in a certain manner?,' 'Why can't we just love anyone we want?,' We complain, and we think we are bound and shackled by these limitations.
Poor, poor Violettas. A lot of them. They agree so much with Violetta in the beginning, but they ignore what happens later. Even she caves in, and finally gives herself up to the true love of Alfredo. But it is still about her for a while. She lives with him and loves, but then one day, something happens. Alfredo's father comes to Violetta, requesting a simple thing. He speaks of Alfredo's sister, unwed, weak. She will never wed or be cared for properly if Alfredo and Violetta's relationship does not stop, because her reputation will be tarnished by it. So Alfredo's father, Signor Germont, asks Violetta to end it, pleading with her for the sake of love. But Violetta refuses. It is her love! Alfredo is hers now - what business has anyone to end this joy? But then, thinking once more of the words about love Alfredo once sang to her long ago, Violetta finally agrees. Now she fully acts in love, though she knows it will be hard. Because she can see Alfredo, her love, in the weak, unknown girl so much in need of care. And so Violetta gives herself up.

Now that Lent has started, I think ever more of this story. Because it's even more familiar than how I pointed it out above. Not just our culture is reflected in poor Violetta's story. What does the love of Violetta recall more than the Church, Christ's imperfect Bride? We are Violetta in a way. We do as we please, considering nothing but "Gioia" and being free. And yet, when faced with the alternative, we are scared. Faithful love terrifies us, because it shows us what we don't do. It shows us something radically different from being ever free or taking joy and pleasure above all else. Christ loves us more than anything, and far more faithfully even than the metaphorical Alfredo. And yet we remain Violetta in her Sempre Libera - we will have our freedom! And when we really think about giving ourselves up, the thoughts are pained and sad, and we only can think of how hard a path it would be. But perhaps He has real love for us. Perhaps we will give ourselves up. There's no better time than Lent. What are you giving up for faithful Love?