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''Quare me repulisti?''

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In a forum, a former acquaintance and I, both Sherlockians and both Basilians, got yourselves into a huge, intriguing conversation of our two versions of the characters known as Sebastian Doran — hers a colonel, mine a captain — observing and theorising his meaning of his history, criminality, and characterisation through the sciences of psychology and sociology. But the reality of the matter is that she technically stole the character from me and claimed it as her own. Hrumph...

Sebastian Doran, my own, was a victim of many things. He was born into a highly religious Roman Catholic family where his father was once of strong political standing but turned weak and defeated, cowering before his tyrannical wife who ruled the household in fear and abuse. Due to his mix breeding of half-rat, half-mouse, he was taunted and teased on school-grounds. Devoid of affection and compassion all his life, he had but one solace — his faith. By his early twenties, he yearned for acceptance and achieved it through his love of God, of Christ, of angels, of heaven, for peace and tranquillity of mind; thus, he joined the Benedictine Order as a monk (or, at least, a novice) cloistered away from the pain of real world that tortured him, a manner of escape and contemplate the discovery oneself and the Holy Orders, but others would not have it. His family stole him away from the stone walls and threw him in the military where he was forced into the Second Afghan War. The bullet fly over head; bombs fall, the sound ring in your ears; explosions thunder; the bloodcurdling screams as the sound burns into the head and steals the soul; children tortured; women raped; comrades slaughtered before you; massacre of villages, conquest of cities, men lost with no arms, no legs, and no soul. A man completely changed through a complex form of what is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder with an already severe antisocial personality disorder. And now, a monster has emerged from the destruction of hate, bitterness, and wrath. He will torture and destroy those that cross him and he will never stop, blood will spill cold and hot, the hundreds have been murdered and more shall follow unless he is stopped. There is not greater evil alive than that of Captain Sebastian Doran. Monstrosity of what is he was not born, but made...

I think this excerpt from Judica me (Psalm 42) from Missale Romanum, of Ordo Missæ, in mediæval Latin, best describes my Doran and his thoughts at this particular moment in the image quite perfectly:
Judica me Deus, et discerne causam meam
(Judge me, O God, and discern my cause)
de gente non sancta: ab homine iniquo et 
(from the unholy nation, rescue me from the unjust and)
doloso erue me.
(deceitful man.)

Quia tu es, Deus, fortitudo mea: quare me
(For Thou, O God, art my strength, why hast Thou)
repulisti, et quare tristis incedo, dum affligit
(forsaken me? And why do I go about in sadness, while)
me inimicus?
(the enemy afflicts me?)

Emitte lucem tuam et veritatem tuam: ipsa
(Send forth Thy light and Thy truth: for)
me deduxerunt et adduxerunt in montem
(they have led me and brought me to)
sanctum tuum, et in tabernacula tua.
(Thy holy mount, and into Thy tabernacles.)

Et introibo ad altare Dei: ad Deum qui
(And I will go into the altar of God: to God, Who)
lætificat juventutem meam.
(gives joy to my youth.)
Here is a DeviantArt "gift" for Amber Carroll Stitt inspired by our on-going posts on our Doran(s). Looking supremely young for obvious reasons, a then-Brother Sebastian, follower of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, performs a personal, silent psalm of solicitation after the evening bells of Vespers. I had to watch Cadfael for references for the surroundings of a mediæval monastery and a traditional Benedictine hooded cowl. (Well, if you want to be technical, its original intention never a "gift" in its truest sense but a "burn" towards her and her thievery. I was polite to her, I was civil to her, but I was never cruel not manipulative, because I'm classier than she is...)

The phrase quare me repulisti? means "Why hast Thou (God) forsaken me?" in Latin. This is the proper for the Mass that follows the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity done at the foot of the alter. Hear a Gregorian Chant adaptation of this psalm HERE.

Models - Jeremy Irons, Christopher Walken | Costume - Benedictine Monk and Cistercian Monk

Medium - 2B mechanical pencil.

Captain Sebastian Doran © Diane N. Tran.
"Judica me" from Missale Romanum © Apostolic Constitution.
Image size
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© 2005 - 2024 tranimation-art
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ThermidorResistance's avatar
Mic 🎤 drop 💧 damn.