Saturday 2 November 2019

Mass readings in Scots: Thirty-First Sunday of the Year (Year C)

First reading
Wisdom 11:22 - 12:2

For the haill warld afore thee is as the laest corn i the balance,
an as a drap o the mornin dew, that faws doun onti the yird:
but thou haes mercie on aw, acause thou can dae aw things,
an owerluiks the sins o men for the sake o repentance.
For thou luivs aw things that ir, an hates nane o the things that thou haes made:
for thou didna appoint, or mak onie thing hatin it.
An hou coud onie thing bide, gin thou wadna?
or be preserved, gin no callit bi thee?
But thou spares aw: acause thai ir thyne, O Laird, wha luivs sauls.
O hou guid an douce is thy spreit, O Laird, i aw things!
An sae thou chastises thaim that err, bi littil an littil:
an admonishes thaim, an speiks ti thaim, anent the things whaur thai offend:
that leivin thair wickedness, thai can believe i thee, O Laird.

[Own translation, level 2  18/11/19. For methodology see here.]

Responsorial Psalm 
Psalm 144: 1-2, 8-11, 13-14, (resp. v1) [In order to preserve the acrostic of the translation, the complete version is given below.]

Ah, my God at’s Kíng, I’ll heize ee,
   an ey an iver bliss thy name;
Blissin ilka day I’ll wage ee,
   an ey an iver laud thy name.
Certie God is braid out laudit,
   an richtlie sae sen gryte is he;
Deed, his gryteness is onendin, 
   an fathomit it canna be.

Eentil their bairns, bairns sal praise ee,
   an weil furthshaw thy michtie acks;
Fair that kinglie glore they’l speak o,
   an I’ll admire thy wunner-warks.
'Gryte thy ferlies,' fowk sal witness,
   an I’ll declare thy celsitude;
Hie that richtousness they’l lilt o,
   an sing the fame ey o thy gude.

It’s the Lord at’s grâcious, louin
   juist; slaw tae low, he rues richt fain:
Kind an gude the Lord til aab’dy,
   an’s pitie’s ower his warks ilk ane.
Lord, thy warks, they aa maun thank ee, 
   an saunts o thine maun speak ee fair!
Maun declare thy kinrik’s glorie,
   an on thy pour maun wurds ey ware

Name they, syne, fore aa God’s ferlies,
   an hou in splendour shines his swey;
Oh, thy realm’s a realm onendin,
   an dures thy rewl ower aa for ey!
Plain the Lord’s in’s ilk wurd faithfu,
   an grâcious in ilk ack o’s maucht -
Quite his thing tae stoop aa cowpin, 
   an aa as gang twa-fauld tae straucht.

Richt the een o aa leuk til ee;
   an thou gies meat til thaim belyve,
Spreidin brawlie braid thy loof, Lord,
   an toomin routh on aa alive.
Tis the Lord at’s just in aa’s gates,
   an kindlie in his ilka deed:
Unco near til aa cry’n on him,
veracitie in pray’n he heeds.

Wha revere him, God dis fauvour
   an saufs them, hearkenin their cry;
eXtra care taks o wha lo him,
   an aa wha’r wicket he’l ding by:
Yea, his laud my mouth s’ be tellin,
   an singin o the Lord aawey;
Zionart lat aa heize blissin,
   an praise his halie name for ey.

[From Psalm 145 in Worship in Scots, 'Psalms for Singing' Church of Scotland resource accessed 20/09/22)]

Gospel reading
Luke 19: 1-10

When Jesus went oan inty Jericho, there wis this man cawd Zacchaeus. He wis the heid tax man for the district an so wis quite rich -in fact he wis really loaded! But though he had plenty o money, he wisny whit ye might caw happy, an he wis dead keen tae meet this Jesus he'd heard aw aboot. Zacchaeus, bein a wee man, canny get near oan account o the great crowd o folk roon aboot Jesus. So he decides tae sclim up a sycamore tree beside the road tae watch. When Jesus eventually comes alang, he spies Zacchaeus. Lookin up, he shouts, 'Hi there, wee man -come doon will ye! Ah've decided tae invite masel tae yer hoose for a meal this efternin.' Tae say that wee Zacchaeus wis fair chuffed is pittin it mildly! But the rest o the folk, by the wey, wir no very pleased that Jesus wis gauny eat wi a bloke they cawd a crook. But already Zacchaeus is a chinged man! He says tae Jesus, 'Lord, see me? Ah'm gauny gie hauf o ma money tae the puir. An ah'll promise tae look efter aw the folk that ah've cheated, so ah will.' Jesus turned roon tae the dumfoonert crowd an telt them tae haud their wheesht: 'This man wis a sinner,' he said. 'He's fund peace at last.'

[From 'Zacchaeus' in A Glasgow Bible, Stuart 1997, pp.123-4 here]

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