The Strangest Thing You Will Ever Learn about the Byzantine Rite

When I was preparing my recent article about the Little Vespers of the Byzantine Office, I had a chat with one of the wise men I consult about such things, and we got to talking about the length of the service known as All-night Vigil. As previously noted, the term “all” in “All-night” is something of a rhetorical exaggeration, but in large monasteries such as the great houses on Mt Athos, not by much, and this was his description of the order of services for a patronal feast which he attended at one of them.

The katholikon (main church) of the Iviron Monastery on Mt Athos, at the beginning of the All-night vigil of the Nativity of the Virgin this year.

“Ninth Hour, Small Vespers, dinner in the refectory with solemn procession from the church and then back afterwards.

Break for confessions

Beginning of All-Night Vigil proper

– Vespers with Artoklasia (4 hours; the troparia at the artoklasia took 30 minutes with the terirems, Psalm 103 took 1.5 hours)

Reading of the Saint’s Life (around midnight)

Orthros

After the Kontakion of the Sixth Ode they passed to a full Akathistos (I went to sleep at that point) (Presumably) First, Third, and Sixth Hours, Divine Liturgy

Then procession with water blessing.

Lunch”

Me: “Terirems?” (This word struck me not only because I had never heard it before, but also because it doesn’t sound Greek at all.)

The wise man explained to me that terirems are nonsense syllables added to the liturgy, which were originally spontaneous expressions of joy added to the texts when sung. Over time, they came to be completely scripted, and it is considered part of Byzantine musical formation to study the codified ones. Not at all surprisingly, theological pseudo-explanations have been created to explain them, e.g., that they are words that the angels sing in heaven, or of a lullaby which the Virgin Mary sang to Christ. There is very little information about them available on the internet, but some of the very few references I was able to find say that they were also used to cover the gaps in the music if the clergy hadn’t finished what they were doing. (The syllables te-, ri-, -rem are not the names of notes, by the way.)

Here are a few of examples. You can find more on YouTube by searching in various languages; in Greek, the word is τεριρεμ, in Slavonic and its derivatives, терирем. 

A Very Useful New Piece of Liturgical Scholarship from Sharon Kabel

One of our most frequently seen and linked posts in NLM’s history is a guest article shared with us by archival researcher extraordinaire Sharon Kabel in 2020, about the mythical indult which supposedly granted a general dispensation from the traditional rule of abstinence from meat, in the United States, on the Friday after Thanksgiving, (i.e. today). Mrs Kabel has recently completely another very interesting project on the history of the wedding Mass, which she was able to do via the incredibly useful Usuarium database, a vast, searchable repository of medieval liturgical books. Surprisingly, it turns out that the wedding Mass in the Missal of St Pius V (known from its Introit as Deus Israel) is actually a new creation which did not previously exist. Sharon’s research reveals that there was a variety of different wedding Masses, and the most common was simply a votive Mass of the Holy Trinity.

The wedding Mass, with the Gregorian propers from the votive Mass of the Most Holy Trinity, in a Missal according to the Use of Arrhas in France, printed in 1508. BNF Paris, B-27899

Her project examines all the different parts of the wedding Mass (Gregorian propers, including the sequences, Scriptural readings etc.) and tabulates which ones were used most commonly in which regions, organized into charts which show the frequency of their use, and maps out the geographical regions where each was most common. You can the whole thing on her website:
https://sharonkabel.com/survey_wedding_masses_983-1617/

or download it as a pdf:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jO65PJmCM1BUKTUCIhTqfXjLxb_EibuE/view

This project is not just a worthy and interesting piece of research in its own right, but a model for similar projects to explore other aspects of our liturgical patrimony. We congratulate Mrs Kabel on her excellent and diligent work - feliciter! 

An Introduction to the Canticle of the Creatures

Lost in Translation #149

The year of Our Lord 2025 marks the 800th anniversary of Saint Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Creatures (also known as the Canticle of Brother Sun), and to honor this momentous occasion we will devote the next several issues to it.

The Canticle was a groundbreaking achievement. Written in the Umbrian dialect, it is believed to be the first work of literature by a known author in the Italian language. The Canticle inspired Franz Liszt (1811–1886) to compose several pieces entitled “Cantico del sol di Francesco d'Assisi” for solo piano, organ, and orchestra. And William Henry Draper’s English hymn, “All Creatures of Our God and King,” is a paraphrase of the Canticle. The Canticle beautifully encapsulates Saint Francis’ profound spiritual worldview and has an admirable poetic style.

The Canticle of the Creatures consists of thirteen stanzas. After addressing the Lord, Saint Francis mentions Brother Sun, Sister Moon and the Stars, Brother Wind, Sister Water, Brother Fire, Sister Mother Earth, and Sister Bodily Death. The Canticle concludes with a warning about dying in mortal sin and a call to serve God in great humility.

The tone of the Canticle is overwhelmingly joyful, which is ironic given the circumstances in which it was written. In 1225, Saint Francis returned to the church of San Damiano, a place close to his heart. It was here that he received the calling from God to repair His Church, and it was here that he foresaw the establishment of the Order of Poor Clares, who now had custody of the church. But Francis was not in good condition. His body was racked with pain because of the austerities he inflicted on himself and because of the stigmata he had received on Mount Verna a few months earlier on September 13, 1224. The Poor Clares had built for him “a little cell made of mats,” but the cell was infested with mice and the weather was dreary, making it difficult for him to sleep. To top it all off, Francis was going blind from trachoma, which he may have contracted when he visited Egypt to convert the Muslims.

One night, as he was reflecting on all his ills, he received an assurance from God of “the promise of His kingdom.” Relieved, the next morning Francis told his spiritual brothers how grateful he was for this consolation, and that he should rejoice in all his troubles. He resolved to write a “new praise of the Lord for His creatures” with a threefold purpose: to praise God, to console ourselves, and to edify our neighbor. After meditating for a while, Saint Francis then dictated most of the Canticle. He added more stanzas later, including the stanza about Sister Bodily Death as he lay dying in October 1226.

It may seem strange that a canticle of joy should be the product of pain and misery, but as St. Augustine observes, man has an inbuilt desire to praise God, and that doing so brings him joy. Such is the case even in the darkest of times, which affords a heightened opportunity to let go of oneself fully and to let in God. A French Franciscan priest named Eloï Leclerc wrote a beautiful book entitled the Canticle of Brother Sun, which he concludes by stating that the hymn first came to life for him in a crowded freight train headed for the Dachau death camp, when a fellow friar who was dying of hunger and exhaustion sang it.

This article appeared as “Praised Be You” in the Messenger of St. Anthony 127:2, international edition (February 2025), p. 21. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

The Cardinal Composer: The Music of Rafael Merry del Val (1865–1930)

We are grateful to Don Francesco Deffenu, a priest of the Archdiocese of Cagliari (on the Italian island of Sardinia), and a student of the Pontificio Istituto di Musica Sacra in Rome, for preparing this article, which has been translated and edited by Thomas Neal.

The Servant of God Cardinal Rafael Merry del Val y Zulueta (1865-1930) is remembered as one of the most authoritative and spiritually profound figures of the Church of his time. The most trusted collaborator of Pope St. Pius X, Cardinal Merry del Val served the pope first as his personal secretary and then as Secretary of State. In this role, he assumed a central role in the management of the Roman Curia and in diplomatic relations with heads of state. His life was entirely dedicated to the service of the Holy See, during which he held prestigious positions such as Prefect of the Apostolic Palace, President of the Pontifical Ecclesiastical Academy, Secretary of the Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office, and Archpriest of St. Peter’s Basilica. Today, his intense personal spirituality is attested by the ongoing process of beatification, which was opened in 1953 at the behest of Pope Pius XII.

A portrait photograph of Cardinal Rafael Merry del Val taken ca. 1905. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Alongside his important ecclesiastical and diplomatic commitments, Merry del Val also cultivated a deep passion for sacred music. He experienced first-hand the great musical reform promoted by St. Pius X, author of the famous Motu Proprio Tra le Sollecitudini (1903) and founder of the Scuola Superiore di Musica Sacra (now the Pontificio istituto di musica sacra) in 1910. In his memoirs, he vividly recounted the Pontiff’s love for sacred music:

When new musical compositions were presented to [St. Pius X] for approval, he carefully examined the score and more than once, in my presence, hummed the melody that he read at first sight with the greatest ease, beating time with his hand as he read, then giving his opinion on the merit and style of the music.

This direct contact with the musical sensibility of St. Pius X profoundly shaped the Cardinal’s tastes, inspiring him to dedicate himself with genuine enthusiasm and refined sensitivity to the composition of sacred music.

Surprisingly, despite being immersed in correspondence with Heads of State, in the government of the Curia and in personal assistance to the Pontiff, Merry del Val found time to compose numerous pieces of liturgical music. His hymns and motets — including settings of the Veni Creator, Te Joseph, Ave Maris Stella, Ave Regina Coelorum, O Salutaris Hostia, Tantum Ergo, Panis Angelicus, and Audivi vocem de caelo — provide an extraordinary testimony to his faith, and to his spiritual and artistic sensitivity. The manuscript scores are now preserved in the Archives of the Cappella Giulia and at the Pontifical Spanish College of San José in Rome.

In recent years, the Cardinal’s musical legacy has been rediscovered and enhanced thanks to the work of Monsignor Pablo Colino, Canon and Maestro Emeritus of the Cappella Giulia of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. Colino has undertaken an extensive study of Merry del Val’s compositions, culminating in the recording of a CD with the Choir of the Accademia Filarmonica Romana, released in 2005 and entitled Raffaele Merry Del Val & Lorenzo Perosi - Inni, mottetti e canzoni, which has helped raise awareness of this repertoire and demonstrate both its beauty and historical importance.

Three selections from the album; click this link for the full playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_l0vK6gjyoSx2wFZzwxz8YrdDFxvVWM9zs

Veni, Creator Spiritus

Ave Maris Stella

Audivi vocem de caelo

Recently, on November 12, 2025, on the occasion of the 125th anniversary of Merry del Val’s episcopal consecration, a commemorative concert was held in Rome at the Spanish National Church. Presided over by Cardinal Pietro Parolin, Secretary of State to His Holiness, the event paid tribute to the figure and spiritual legacy of Merry del Val. The choir of Santa Maria in Monserrato degli Spagnoli (the Spanish national church), directed by Fabjola Lekaj, performed his sacred compositions, offering a rare opportunity to rediscover the Cardinal’s artistic dimension and underline the contemporaneity and lasting value of his ecclesial, spiritual, and artistic testimony.

Paid Summer Choral Fellowship at the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music, Menlo Park, California

The Catholic Institute of Sacred Music at St. Patrick’s Seminary announces the John A. McInnes Choral Fellowship, beginning with the the summer 2026 term of graduate coursework, and the launch of our 36-credit Master of Sacred Music degree and 20-credit Post-baccalaureate Certificates in Gregorian Chant and Sacred Choral Music (pending approval from WSCUC).

The John A. McInnes Choral Fellowship was established to encourage twelve outstanding Catholic singers to exercise their musical gifts for the glory of God in the context of the sacred liturgy. 

Fellows will serve as section leaders for the CISM Choral Institute, an intensive week-long graduate course held July 20–24, 2026, under the direction of CISM faculty Prof. Christopher Berry and Dr. Jennifer Donelson-Nowicka.

During the Institute, participants sing daily Lauds, Mass, and Vespers, immersing themselves in the Church’s living tradition of sacred music. In addition to their liturgical leadership, the 2026 Choral Fellows will participate in a professional recording session featuring one new work from each of the five composers enrolled in the concurrent Composition Seminar under the direction of Dr. Frank La Rocca.  

Each Fellow receives: 

• A $1,000 stipend 
• Up to $600 in travel allowance 
• Room and board for the duration of the program 

Dates 

Arrival: Morning of Saturday, July 18th 

Departure: After 7:00 p.m. on Friday, July 24th. Singers are welcome to stay until the morning of Saturday, July 25th. 

Eligibility 

The fellowship is open to practicing Catholics of all experience levels, aged 25 years and older, including current and prospective CISM graduate students. Singers must be excellent choral musicians with outstanding sight-reading abilities.

Application 

Applicants must submit: 

• Application form 
• Video recordings of themselves singing their voice part in two a cappella Renaissance motets of their choice 
• Video recordings of themselves singing two Gregorian chants of their choice 

Learn more and apply. 

Applications are due February 15, 2026. 

Read the press release about the Fellowship here.

From All Saints to Advent: the Dedication Feasts of November

In the Roman Breviary, the Matins lessons for the dedication feasts of the Lateran and Vatican basilicas state that Pope St Sylvester I (314-35) consecrated them on November 9th and 18th respectively. However, there is no contemporary or early historical source that attests to this. The Liber Pontificalis, which dedicates a considerable amount of space to Sylvester’s career, says nothing of it; neither do his contemporary Eusebius of Caesarea, the famous Church historian, or the acts of Sylvester mentioned in the Gelasian Decree (ca. 500 A.D.) as one of the reliable lives of the Saints to be read in the liturgy. The tradition of these dates seems to have been popularized by a much later sermon which was commonly read at Matins of a church dedication. [1]

The Consecration of the Lateran Basilica by Pope St Sylvester I; fresco in the transept of that basilica, by Giovan Battista Ricci (1597-1601). The decorations in this part of the church were commissioned by Clement VIII (1592-1605), the same Pope who issued the Roman Pontifical, the liturgical book which contains the rite of a church consecration. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, CC BY 3.0)

The earliest liturgical books of the Roman Rite do not have these feasts, nor indeed, any annual commemoration of a church’s dedication at all. Such feasts are one of the enrichments introduced into the liturgy in the Carolingian period, and these particular two examples are indisputably post-Carolingian. As I noted in an article last week, in the Middle Ages they were kept only in Rome itself, and did not begin to be celebrated by other churches until after the Tridentine reform, when those churches adopted the Breviary and Missal of St Pius V, and their calendar with them.

This means that they also post-date the institution of the feast of All Saints, and I here make bold to offer an explanation of why this may be relevant. It is impossible to say, and I certainly do not pretend to say, whether this was a deliberate choice of the unknown persons who instituted them, or another happy example of the mysterious providence by which God refines the liturgy towards ever great beauty and intricacy.

On October 31st, the Church militant upon the earth prepares itself for the great solemnity of All Saints with a day of fasting, as it does for all the greatest feasts. On November 1st, it celebrates all the Saints in the Church triumphant in heaven, and the following day, prays for all those in the Church suffering in Purgatory. Thus, the three liturgical days are dedicated to the three parts of Christ’s mystical body, on earth, in purgatory, and in heaven.

Speaking only of those feasts which are attested on calendars of the Roman Rite from the earliest times [2], November continues with at least one feast of each of the traditional classes of Saint: the Apostle Andrew on the 30th; a martyred bishop, Pope St Clement I, on the 23rd; a martyr, St Chrysogonus, on the 24th (plus the Eastern martyrs Theodore and Menna); a group of several martyrs, the Four Crowned Martyrs, on the 8th; a confessor, St Martin, on the 11th; a virgin and martyr, Cecilia, on the 22nd, and a matron, St Felicity, also on the 23rd. Thus the month itself becomes, so to speak, an icon of all the Saints.

The calendar page for November in a Gregorian sacramentary produced in the second half of the 9th century at the abbey of St-Amand-les-Eaux, about 130 miles north north-east of Paris. (Bibliothèque nationale de France. Département des Manuscrits. Latin 2290). All of the Saints named above are included except for the Egyptian martyr Menna, whose feast coincides with that of St Martin, kept in Gaul as a solemnity of the highest degree, and therefore without commemoration.

With the exception of Martin, each of these Saints is also very Roman. St Andrew is the Apostle Peter’s brother, and has been the subject of great devotion in the Eternal City from earliest times. The rest are either Roman themselves or have important Roman connections. Clement, Chrysogonus, Cecilia and the Crowned Martyrs all have large and prominent basilicas in the city; Felicity had one near the catacomb where she was buried, and the feast of her seven sons on July 10th is in all Roman liturgical books, going back to the so-called Leonine Sacramentary.

Looking back to the earliest calendars, there is no other month which has such a variety of different kinds of Saints, and almost all of them Roman. Perhaps this was the inspiration for placing the annual commemoration of the dedication of Rome’s cathedral in November as well, once such a commemoration had been instituted as a regular feature of the liturgy. And when this was done, the logical thing would be to also add the commemoration of the dedications of the basilicas of Ss Peter and Paul, the Roman church’s two apostolic founders and principal patrons. This complex month-long celebration of the church of Rome and its Saints would then serve as the link between All Saints and the beginning of the new liturgical year in Advent, the season which draws our mind both to the first coming of Christ in the Incarnation, and His second coming in glory at the end of the world, when all the Saints shall be perfected in the fullness of His Redemption.

The placement of the two dedication feasts between All Saints and Advent thus also reminds us of the mediating role which the Church itself plays in bringing us to our own place in heaven among the angels and the saints. And perhaps it is not too extravagant to posit that there is some intentional symbolism in placing them at intervals of nine days, the number of the choirs of angels in heaven: the dedication of the Lateran is on the 9th, of Ss Peter and Paul on the 18th, and the earliest possible beginning of Advent on the 27th.

The interior of the dome of St Peter’s basilica, with Christ, the Virgin, the Baptist and the Twelve Apostles, and above them, the choirs of angels, with God the Father in the mosaic inside the lantern. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Gary Ullah, CC BY 2.0)

[1] The first part of this sermon, which opens with the words “Consecrationes altarium”, was read as the lessons of the first nocturn of a church dedication in the pre-Tridentine Roman breviary, and the Office of many other liturgical Uses. In the breviary of St Pius V, it is rewritten according to the general literary criteria of that reform, and read in part in the second nocturn of November 9, and in part on the 18th, with various other material added to it. The lessons for these two days were considerably expanded in later additions, in order to give more of the history of the three churches as they were rebuilt and renovated in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries.

[2] All of these are in their places by the time the first version of the Gregorian Sacramentary was created towards the end of the 8th century.

Medieval Liturgical Objects at the Musée de Cluny in Paris

Once again, I am very grateful to a friend for sharing with us photos taken during his travels, this time from the medieval collection at the Musée de Cluny in Paris. This museum, which is housed in a building that was once the Parisian residence of the abbot of Cluny, is best known as the home of a famous set of six tapestries called The Lady and the Unicorn, but also possesses a large number of very beautiful liturgical objects. In 2019, I visited the museum, and posted some of my own photos, but a large part of it was closed for renovations, and so there isn’t any overlap between these and my own set.

The museum is currently hosting an exhibition titled “The Middle Ages of the 19th Century - Creations and Fakes in the Fine Arts”, which displays medieval works next to modern ones inspired by them, and some forgeries as well. E.g., here we see a medieval thurible on the right, and a modern one which copies it on the left.

A reliquary in the form of an angel, made in France ca. 1470-80.

A modern reliquary inspired by it, made in 1913, containing a rib of the Dominican Saint Gerard of Brogne.

The smaller reliquary at the lower right of this photo was made towards the end of the 19th century to contain a small fragment of the True Cross; another container was added to it later to contain a relic of Julie Billiart, the founder of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur, shortly after her beatification in 1906. (She has since been canonized.)

An embroidered panel inspired by the same type of design, made in England in the mid-19th century.

A medieval chalice and paten, and a modern copy (upper right.)

On the right, a ciborium made in France in about 1200, and on the left, a 19th-century copy.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

St Catherine of Alexandria 2025

Truly it is worthy ... through Christ our Lord. Through whom the triumphant, most noble, and outstanding martyr, the virgin Catherine, instructed in the teachings of the prophets, apostles and philosophers, and taught in all languages by the grace of the Holy Spirit, by her wonderful wisdom overcame the emperor with the orators, and the world with all its vices. She converted to Christ the august empress with the aforementioned orators, and Porphyry (her jailer) with all his companions, by her magnificent teachings and examples; and when they had all received the faith together with the sign of Christ from the virgin Catherine, and been crowned with martyrdom, she sent them before her to the kingdom of the heavens. She is the one illuminated by that wisdom which conquers malice, and mightily reaches from end to end (of the word), and sweetly disposes all things. She is that most glorious virgin who with a hundredfold fruits, by her great martyrdom presented herself as an offering to Jesus Christ. And therefore being confirmed by the word of Christ and the visitation of angels she overcame with wondrous constancy nails and wheels, blades most sharp, the tyrant’s sword and threats. She asked from the Lord for all those who devoutly honor her passion health of mind and body, firmness of faith, and abundance of all things. She also, having been beheaded for the name of Christ poured forth milk instead of blood, so that for us who venerate her with pure mind, her teaching and passion might be spiritual drink and food, and the forgiveness of sins. Through the same Christ our Lord, through whom the Angels praise, the Archangels venerate, the Thrones, Dominations, Virtues, Principalities and Powers adore Thy majesty; whom the Cherubim and Seraphim celebrate joined in exultation; and we ask that Thou order our voices also be brought in among theirs, saying with humble confession, ‘Holy…’ (The preface of the Ambrosian Mass of St Catherine of Alexandria, used before the post-Tridentine reform of the Ambrosian Missal.)

St Catherine of Alexandria explaining the truth of Christianity to the philosophers sent by the emperor Maximin to convince her of its falsehood. Through the window on the right, we see the same philosophers, encouraged by Catherine, accepting martyrdom. This fresco was painted in the chapel dedicated to both her and St Ambrose in the Roman basilica of St Clement by Masolino da Panicale, 1425-31.

VD... per Christum, Dominum nostrum. Per quem triumphatrix nobilissima et egregia martyr virgo Catherina, Prophetarum et Apostolorum atque philosophorum doctrinis imbuta, omnibusque linguis charismate Sancti Spiritus erudita, imperatorem cum rhetoribus, mundum cum vitiis omnibus mirabilia sapientia superavit. Imperatricem augustam cum praefatis rhetoribus, Porphyrium cum sociis omnibus suis, exemplis et doctrinis magnificis convertit ad Christum, omnesque accepta fide cum signo Christi a virgine Catherina, martyrio coronatos, praemisit ad regna polorum. Haec fuit illa sapientia illustrata, quae vincit malitiam, attingit a fine usque ad finem fortiter, et disponit omnia suaviter. Haec est illa gloriosissima virgo, quae cum centenis fructibus seipsam libando, magnoque purpurata martyrio, representavit Jesu Christo. Ideoque famine Christi et angelorum visitatione confirmata, clavos et rotas, seras acutissimas, tyranni gladium atque minas mirabili constantia superavit. Haec pro cunctis ejus passionem devote colentibus, sanitatem mentis et corporis, fideique firmitatem et rerum abundantiam a Domino postulavit. Haec etiam decollata pro Christi nomine lac fudit pro sanguine, ut sua doctrina et passio nobis eam pura mente venerantibus, esset potus spiritualis et cibus, atque peccatorum remissio. Per eundem Christum, Dominum nostrum. Per quem maiestatem tuam laudant Angeli, venerantur Archangeli, Throni, Dominationes, Virtutes, Principates, et Potestates adorant. Quem Cherubim et Seraphim socia exsultatione concelebrant. Cum quibus et nostras voces, ut admitti iubeas, deprecamur, supplici confessione dicentes: Sanctus…

A particularly good turn of phrase from Fr Hunwicke, said à propos of St Nicholas, applies just as well St Catherine of Alexandria; she was “a saint with as large a portfolio of patronages as a Renaissance cardinal.” Devotion to her was very strong in Milan in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, no less than anywhere else, as evidenced by the fact that in some of the early printed editions of the Ambrosian Missal, her name was even added to the list of Saints in the Nobis quoque of the Canon. In addition to this lengthy proper preface (which from a literary point of view is not quite as polished as it could be), her Mass had almost all proper chants, mostly taken from her legendum, and all proper prayers.

A page of an Ambrosian Missal printed in 1499, with the name of St Catherine in the Nobis quoque.

At the same time, it cannot be denied that many reasonable doubts have been raised about the historicity of the written accounts of her life, not by modern skeptics, but by serious and devout scholars such as St Robert Bellarmine and Cardinal Baronius. On the basis of these doubts, the Ambrosian Missal of 1594, the first revised edition after the Tridentine reform of the Roman Rite, removed all the proper chants, and this preface, replacing them with those of the Common Mass of a Virgin Martyr.

Patronal Feasts of the Schola Sainte-Cécile

November is an especially busy month for our good friends of the Schola Sainte-Cécile in Paris, since both of their patronal feasts fall within it. Their home church was built in 1854, in the reign of the last French Emperor, Napoleon III, and named for St Eugenius, a 7th-century bishop of Toledo, Spain, partly to honor the emperor’s Spanish-born wife, Eugénie. His feast day is November 15th; one week later is the feast of St Cecilia, patron of musicians, who was added as a second patron of the church in 1952 because of its proximity to the Paris Conservatory. As has been the general custom in Francis for over two centuries, both of these feasts are usually celebrated on the Sunday following as external solemnities.

All of the ceremonies in the church are broadcast live on their YouTube channel, and then permanently reposted. Below, I have also included links to their website, which gives the complete musical program (in French) for each ceremony. (Those pages include links to pdfs with the musical scores as well.) The Mass of St Eugenius begins with a rousing Christus vincit, as a relic of the Saint is carried though the church in procession – Feliciter! Feliciter!

Mass on the feast of St Eugène (program)

Vespers (program)

Mass on the feast of St Cecilia (program)

Vespers (program)

For He Must Eventually Reign...

It is no secret that the post-Conciliar liturgical reform, finding the original purpose of the feast of Christ the King, and the doctrine of Christ’s social kingship, rather an embarrassment in Modern Man™’s brave new world, completely denuded it of that purpose and transformed it into a celebration of Christ’s eschatological kingship, a kind of Septuagesima of Christmas. Following the lead of the wise Fr Hunwicke, I here share some considerations on this subject from N.T. Wright, one of the best Biblical scholars of our times, from his book “For All the Saints: Remembering the Christian Departed.” Prof. Wright is an Anglican, and formerly served as the bishop of Durham; he is therefore speaking here principally about the adoption of the new version of the feast of Christ the King into the Anglican liturgy, but his observations are just as pertinent to the post-Conciliar Catholic rite.

“The Sunday next before Advent had an old popular name: ‘Stir-up Sunday’. This derived from the old prayer, the Collect set for the day, which began, ‘Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people… ’, (traditionally also the date when people began preparing cakes and puddings for Christmas.) Its readings gave just a hint of things to come in Advent itself…

The prayers of the last Sunday of the year in the Gellone Sacramentary, ca. 780 AD. (Bibliothèque National de France, Département des Manuscrits, Latin 12048)

This new festival concludes the implicit storyline at the wrong point and with the wrong point, thereby throwing out of kilter the narrative grammar of the whole story. It implies that Jesus Christ becomes King at the end of the sequence, the end of the story, as the result of a long process.

This is radically misleading … we already have a ‘Feast of Christ the King’. It is called Ascension Day, and occurs forty days after Easter. It celebrates the time when the disciples recognized that the risen Lord Jesus was now the true King of the world. The way Luke tells the story of the Ascension (24, 50-53) invites us to compare Jesus with the Roman emperors who were believed to have ascended to heaven and thereby to have become divine: Jesus, not Caesar, is now the world’s true Lord. His Kingdom has already begun. He has defeated death – and, since death is the final weapon of the tyrant and the bully, he has brought to birth a new sort of kingdom, a kingdom not from this world but emphatically for this world. Easter and Ascension, taken together, constitute Jesus as Messiah and King, as Lord of the world.

(Editor’s note: one of the contributors to Annibale Bugnini’s report on how to “fix” the liturgical year, which we published here on NLM in 2022, grasped this point better than did the Consilium ad exsequendam when he proposed to move Christ the King to the Sunday within the octave of the Ascension. See part 2 of the series, the paragraph beginning “Other proposals of lesser importance...”)

The mission of the church presupposes this. Going into the world to declare that Jesus is Lord only makes sense if he is already reigning, not if the church is merely suggesting that he might perhaps reign at some point in the distant future (our emphasis), at the end of the long years of church history (represented, in the church’s year, by the Trinity season). But when we place ‘Christ the King’ on the last Sunday before Advent, this is what we imply. Christ is not fully King, it seems, until the end. …

‘Ah, but,’ people say (as they have from Christianity’s earliest days), ‘look out of the window. Read the newspapers. It’s obvious that Christ is not yet reigning fully. Evil is still rampant. The kingdom has not yet come.’ Well, yes and no. St Paul knew as well as we do how powerful evil still was: half his letters were written from prison; but he doesn’t for a moment modify his claim that Jesus is already the true King, the world’s true Lord. St John, too, knew all this as well as we do: when he described that marvellous scene of Jesus before Pilate – or perhaps we should say of Pilate before Jesus – he was well aware that Caesar, Pilate’s boss, had persecuted the church and would continue to do so. Yet he has Jesus appear as the King of the Jews, the rightful King of the whole world (John 18.33—19.16)

Christ before Pilate, 1881 by the Hungarian painter Mihály Munkácsy (1844–1900). Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

(Editor’s note: the original Gospel of Christ the King is John 18, 33-37. In the lectionary of the post-Conciliar rite, it is read in year B; in year A, the Gospel is Matthew 25, 31-46, the separation of the just from the unjust, and in year C, the mocking of Christ on the Cross and the confession of the Good Thief, Luke 23, 35-43.)

The belief that Jesus was already reigning was, then, woven into Christianity from the first. We have come to think that the difficulty about Christianity is believing in God in the teeth of the scientific evidence, but this misses the point. The real problem is giving allegiance to Jesus as Lord in the teeth of the claims of earthly rulers, systems and philosophies. Kyrios Iesous, Jesus is Lord, was the earliest confession of Christian faith, the thing you had to say before you got baptized. Confessing that Jesus was Lord – meaning, among other things, that Caesar wasn’t – was basic, bottom-line Christianity right from the start. … It wasn’t something you had to wait for until the end of time. Being a Christian was always about living by faith in Jesus’ sovereign Lordship in a world which didn’t much look as if he was in charge.

… At Jesus’ final appearing, his second coming, he will put into operation for the entire cosmos that Lordship which is already his by right. … It will be a fresh act of grace, of new creation, completing what was done in the cross, the resurrection and the ascension, but also going way beyond them in the remaking of the entire cosmos. And the church’s year, which remained unaltered in this respect from at least the sixth century until 1970 in Rome and the late 1990s in the Church of England, kept Advent itself … as the preparation not only for Christmas but also for the second coming, the final reappearing, of Jesus. … If the ‘Feast of Christ the King’ refers to the final kingship of Christ, it makes no sense to celebrate it on the Sunday before Advent and then spend the next four weeks preparing for it. That’s like trying to eat the Christmas pudding and stir it afterwards.”

The kingship of Christ and the renewal of creation was a prominent theme in an absolutely magnificent series of lectures which Prof. Wright delivered at the Univ. of Aberdeen in Scotland in February 2018, his contribution to the annual Gifford Lectures, which have been running since 1888. Here is the first of eight; links to the others will be found easily on YouTube. Prof. Wright later published them as a book titled “History and Eschatology: Jesus and the promise of natural theology.”