Bel and the Dragon in the Liturgy of Lent

On the Tuesday of Passion week, the Epistle of the Mass is the episode of the book of Daniel known as “Bel and the Dragon”, the fourteenth and final chapter in the Vulgate. This is one of the deuterocanonical parts of the book, along with the story of Susanna (chapter 13), which is read earlier in Lent, and the long section of chapter 3 known as “the Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Children.” Of the latter two, a portion of the Prayer is read as the Epistle on Thursday of this week; the Song is one of the most commonly used canticles in all historical Christian liturgies, known from its opening word in Latin as the Benedicite.

This episode is the second time Daniel is thrown into a den of lions, the first being in the protocanonical sixth chapter. In the Patrologia Latina, more citations of chapter 6 are listed than of chapter 14, but in point of fact, the two stories are very similar, and many of the citations are vague enough that they could really refer to either one. The first verses in the Missal paraphrase the Biblical text, and summarize that the Babylonians rose up against Daniel because he destroyed two of their idols: a statue called Bel, which he unmasked as a fraud that didn’t really eat the food laid out for it every night, and a “dragon” (or “serpent”) which he killed by stuffing a lump of pitch, fat and hair down its throat. (“Bel” derives from the name “Baal”, a very nasty character who is often mentioned in the books of Kings) They therefore force King Cyrus to throw Daniel to the lions, which (as in the earlier episode) have been deliberately starved, but nevertheless do not touch the prophet; after a week he is discovered safe and sound, and his persecutors are themselves then thrown into the pit and devoured. I suspect that the version from chapter 14 was the one chosen for liturgical use because of the picturesque episode of the angel (verses 32-38), who carries the prophet Habakkuk by his hair over 500 miles from Judaea to Babylon, in order to bring food to Daniel.

Habakkuk and the Angel, by Gian Lorenso Bernini. ca. 1656-61; in the Chigi Chapel, Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome (Photo from Wikimedia Commons by Bede735)

In ancient Christian frescoes and sarcophagi, Daniel is often shown in the lions’ den nude. His emergence from the den or “pit” represents the Resurrection of Christ, which is the general theme behind so many early Christian artworks; his nudity therefore demonstrates the reality of the human nature and human body in which Christ rose, against the many early heretics who denied them. (The prophet Jonah, who represents Christ’s body in his own, according to the Lord’s own explanation, is also frequently shown nude for the same reason.) However, this theme does not appear in early Christian writings.

Daniel in the Lions’ Den; fresco of the 3rd century in the Catacomb of Ss Peter and Marcellinus

As is so often the case, the Church Fathers’ interpretation of the episode indicates why it was chosen to be read in Lent. Already in the third century, St Cyprian of Carthage explains that “Daniel, when he was compelled to adore the idol Bel that the people and king then worshipped, to assert the honor of his God with full faith and liberty, cried out, saying, ‘I worship nothing but the Lord my God, who made heaven and earth.’ ” (Epistle 61, known as “The Exhortation to Martyrdom”, PL IV 354A) These words, so similar to the opening of the baptismal Creed, reminded the ancient catechumens not only of the Faith which they wished to profess, but also that they might very well have been called to bear witness to it as martyrs, as indeed Cyprian himself did. In his commentary on the Lord’s Prayer (the first such commentary among the works of the Fathers), the story is read as an exhortation to trust in God. “To those who seek the kingdom and the justice of God, He promises that all things will be added; for, since all things belong to God, nothing can be lacking to him that has God, if he himself is not lacking to God. Thus a meal was arranged divinely for Daniel, when he was closed in the lions’ den by the king’s order; and among the hungry beasts, who did yet spare him, the man of God was fed.” (PL 4, 534A)

Once the era of persecution had passed, Daniel was frequently represented by the Fathers as a moral model. For St Zeno of Verona, a contemporary of St Ambrose, Daniel shows us the power of fasting as a spiritual discipline, an important theme for Lent. “Daniel, unarmed, killed a dragon that was terrible to the peoples, and being thrown to the lions, ate in the middle of his danger, he who was wont to fast (Dan. 9, 3) when he was out of danger. (Tractatus 2.8.3 de Timore, PL XI 324A) For Ambrose himself, this also makes him a model of the virtue of courage. “Daniel … was so wise that, in the midst of lions irritated by hunger, he was not weakened (or ‘disheartened’) by any dread of the beasts’ savagery; so courageous, that he could eat without fear of provoking them by his example to eat him.” (De Officiis, 2.4.11, PL XVI 106C)

In his treatise “On God’s Promises and Predictions” St Quodvultdeus, bishop of Carthage in the mid-5th century, sums up these various traditions. Daniel by his actions “teaches and shows that only the one true God is to be worshipped, abandoning vain superstitions, by which the prophet saw that not only the Babylonians, but indeed the whole world was held captive under the power of demons. (God) also showed to his herald that in the future it would be freed from their dominion by the grace of Christ the Lord. But because, as someone once said ‘Truth begets hatred’ (the Roman playwright Terence, in Andria, 1.1.68) … the Babylonians put him into the lions’ den to be devoured. … Therefore, when Daniel was brought out … his enemies were given to the lions as food, that they might perish. These things were done as a symbol of Daniel’s Lord, who prayed for His own, saying ‘Hand not over to the beasts the soul that confesseth Thee (Psalm 73, 19).’ For that roaring lion, the devil, who wandereth about seeking whom he may devour, (1 Peter 5, 8), consumes the enemies of our prophet, Christ the Lord, when he finds them, having received power over them.”

Daniel in the Lion’s Den; sculpted capital in the Abbey of Sant’Antimo in Montalcino, Italy, by the anonymous Romanesque sculptor known as the Master of Cabestany, active in the second half of the 12th century. (Photo from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko.) Daniel in the center, surrounded by lions, raises his hands in a gesture very similar to that of the priest at Mass during the Our Father; the angel, immediately to the right, is the deacon, and Habakkuk holds his basket of food under a veil, as the subdeacon holds the paten. – The Master of Cabestany is named for a small town near Perpignan, France, where he did a particularly beautiful sculpted tympanum over the door of one of the churches. Well over 100 pieces have been attributed to him and his workshop, in a wide range of places throughout southern France and northern Spain. The presence of three of his pieces in Tuscany suggests that he may have traveled as a pilgrim to Rome, and financed the trip by doing sculptures at various stops along the way. In his time, Sant’Antimo was a very rich and important territorial abbey which governed a large tract of Tuscany, fully able to pay him a good price for his work, as well as a popular stop for pilgrims on the via Francigena.

“Deification and the Sacraments” - Conference in London, June 25-26

My friend Fr Andrew Marlborough has contacted me recently to tell me about a conference he is helping to organize, which will take place June 25-26 in London, on “Deification and Sacraments: Perspectives East and West.” The line-up of speakers is strong; two names that caught my eye in particular are Dr. Matthew Levering and Fr Uwe Michael Lang, CO.

Fr Andrew is a priest based in England who has previously written for the New Liturgical Movement about items of interest that appear at auction houses throughout Britain and Europe. Before becoming a priest, he worked in the commercial art world.

See the poster and QR code below for more details.

The Gospel of Passion Monday

Yesterday, the Roman Rite began the season of Passiontide, in which the focus of the liturgy shifts from penance, fasting, and the preparation of the catechumens for baptism to meditation on the Lord’s impending suffering and death, before His glorious resurrection on Easter Sunday. The Mass chants of the season are mostly taken from Psalms which are evidently about the Passion, and were understood as such by the Fathers, as for example today’s introit, the beginning of Psalm 55: “Miserére mihi, Dómine, quoniam conculcávit me homo: tota die bellans tribulávit me. – Have mercy on me, o Lord, for a man hath trodden me down; all the day he hath made war and troubled me.” A treatise known as the Breviarium in Psalmos, traditionally but incorrectly attributed to St Jerome, which seems to have been read very closely by the unknown composers of many Gregorian chants, explains this verse as follows: “In the one who is a man and makes war, the Psalm shows the attack of the devil and of the other wicked spirits, at whose inspiration the Lord suffered.”

The Man of Sorrows, ca. 1434, by the German painter and Dominican friar Master Francke (ca. 1380- ca. 1440)

The epistle, however, is the third chapter of the book of Jonah, in which the prophet enters the city of Nineveh and preaches to them the fast commanded by God as an act of repentance. Placed on this first feria of Passiontide, it serves as an important reminder that although the tenor of the liturgy has shifted, Passiontide is still very much a part of Lent, and Lent is kept by fasting.

The Gospel, John 7, 32-39, then explains in a very beautiful and subtle way what exactly the liturgy is now looking forward to, and not just in Passiontide, but in what comes from it, and extends beyond it through the Easter season. “The rulers and Pharisees sent ministers to apprehend him”; this foretells our Lord’s arrest in the garden of Gethsemane on the night of Holy Thursday. Jesus’ words to those sent to arrest Him, “Yet a little while I am with you, and then I go to him that sent me,” remind us that we are now very close to the day on which He will die, but also to the time of His Ascension, in which He will brings our human nature, glorified in the Passion and Resurrection, before the throne of God. “You shall seek me, and shall not find me, and where I am, thither you cannot come,” refers to the absence of the Lord’s body from the tomb. The response of the Jews to this, as they say, “Whither will he go, that we shall not find him? will He go unto the dispersed among the gentiles, and teach (them)?”, is a prophecy of Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit, through which the Lord will indeed, in the person of His Apostles, go among the gentiles and teach them.

The conclusion of the Gospel therefore speaks of the baptism of the catechumens both at the Easter vigil, and, according to the ancient tradition of the Church, at the vigil of Pentecost as well. On the latter, the Communio of the Mass is taken from this passage. “And on the last, and great day of the festivity (here, symbolically, on the last day of Lent, i.e. Holy Saturday), Jesus stood and cried, saying, ‘If any man thirst, let him come to me, and drink. He that believeth in me, as the scripture saith, “Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” Now this He said of the Spirit which they should receive, who believed in him: for as yet the Spirit was not given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.”

Communio, Jo. 7 Ultimo festivitátis die dicébat Jesus, ‘Qui in me credit, flúmina de ventre ejus fluent aquae vivae’; hoc autem dixit de Spíritu, quem acceptúri erant credentes in eum, allelúja, allelúja. (On the last day of the feast, Jesus said, ‘He who believes in Me, from within him there shall flow rivers of living water.’ He said this, however, of the Spirit, Whom they who believed in Him were to receive, alleluia, alleluia.

The final verse reminds us, as we walk with the Lord in His sufferings, that He is indeed glorified at the end of them, not only in the Resurrection, but in the establishment of His Church, and the fulfillment of the mission which He gave to it to go forth and baptize all nations.

From the Friday of the third week of Lent to the last day of Passion week, most of the Roman Rite’s Gospel readings are taken from St John. They are, however, not arranged in the order of the Gospel itself.

• Week 3, Friday, John 4, 5-42 (the Samaritan Woman)
• Saturday, John 8, 1-11 (the adulteress)
• Fourth Sunday, John 6, 1-15 (the multiplication of loaves and fishes)
• Monday, John 2, 13-25 (the purging of the temple)
• Tuesday, John 7, 14-31 (the second part of Christ’s discourse in the temple during the feast of tabernacles)
• Wednesday, John 9, 1-38 (the healing of the blind man)
• Friday, John 11, 1-45 (the raising of the Lazarus)
• Saturday, John 8, 12-20 (“I am the light of the world.”)
• Passion Sunday, John 8, 46-59 (the discourse on Abraham)
• Monday, John 7, 32-39 (described above: the third part of Christ’s discourse in the temple during the feast of tabernacles)
• Tuesday, John 7, 1-13 (the first part of same)
• Wednesday, John 10, 22-38 (the discourse in the porch of the temple)
• Friday, John 11, 47-54 (the priests and pharisees take council against the Lord)
• Saturday, John 12, 10-36 (the triumphal entry into Jerusalem)

In the lectionary of the post-Conciliar Rite, not one of these remains in its traditional place. The Gospels of the Samaritan woman, the blind man and the raising of Lazarus have all been moved to Sundays in year A, on the basis of a completely erroneous belief, one that rests on no evidence of any kind, that their analogous position in the Ambrosian Rite attests their supposed original order in the Roman Rite. (Someone managed to realize that within the three-year lectionary system, that this means that these crucial passages are omitted from Lent altogether in two years out of three. A provision is therefore made that they can be resumed on any of the following ferias of the same week in such years, but this is not mandatory.) The rest have been rearranged as part of a semi-continuous series of readings from John which follows the order of the Gospel, but the selection of passages is very different, and no part of today’s reading remains in Lent on either a Sunday or a feria. The official description of the new lectionary claims that this new selection of readings “corresponds more fully to the characteristics of Lent.”

I imagine that many of our readers have read the proposal made by Geoffroy Kemlin, abbot of Solesmes, and sent to the Holy Father, recently published in an English translation on Rorate Caeli, that the Ordo missae of St Pius V be incorporated into the post-Conciliar missal, so that those who celebrate the traditional Roman Rite can benefit from all the worst features of the post-Conciliar Rite: the prefaces, eucharistic prayers and lectionary. In an interview that follows, Abbot Kemlin states that “the current lectionary called for by Vatican II is far richer than the old one.”

I pass over the fact that Vatican II most certainly did not call for the historical lectionary of the Roman Rite to be thrown in the trash and replaced with a new one of the Consilium ad exsequendam’s devising, although the good abbot of all people should know this. But to refer to the new lectionary as “richer” is an embarrassingly shallow assessment. Yes, it does have more readings. But as has been pointed out over and over again for nearly sixty years now, there is hardly a page of it that does not cheapen or substantially mispresent the meaning of the Word of God by censoring it of so-called difficult passages, or shortening it for the sake of mere convenience. (The Gospel of Lazarus, e.g., which was read this past Sunday, can optionally be cut down by omitting 18½ of its 45 verses, more than 40% of it. Next Sunday, the Passion of St Matthew can be optionally cut down to a pitiable 44 verses out of the traditional 141, a bit more than 30%.)

An unimportant part of Lord’s Passion, depicted by the Italian painter Sebastiano Ricci (1659-1734), ca. 1730.

But there is the graver issue that the men who created the Roman Mass, including its lectionary, were poets and scholars of the very highest and finest literary sensibility, as evidenced, for example, by the careful selection of the Gospel reading for today, and the subtle way it lays out a program for the rest of Passiontide, and connects it to the Easter season. The notion that their work so desperately needed improving upon that almost no part of it should be left undisturbed would, in a happier age, rightly have been censured as scandalous and offensive to pious ears. The notion that the men who sat on the Consilium ad exsequendam were the ones to improve it is laughable. To paraphrase one of Evelyn Waugh’s best sayings, “To see this committee fumbling with our rich and delicate lectionary is to experience all the horror of seeing a Sèvres vase in the hands of a chimpanzee.”

I therefore offer as a counter-proposal that the lectionary of the post-Conciliar Rite be further enriched by the optional use of the Roman lectionary, so that the whole Church may benefit from the marvelous work of these ancient poets and scholars, our forefathers in the Faith, as Vatican II actually wanted.

Durandus on Passiontide

The first of the following excerpts from William Durandus’ Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, 6.60.3-4 and 7-9, is based on St Augustine’s division of sacred history into four periods: before the giving of the law to Moses; under the law; under grace, i.e. from the Incarnation to the end of the world; and then finally, in peace, after the Lord’s Second Coming.

The reasons for which the Lord’s Passion is remembered for two weeks before Easter are these: first, because He himself suffered for two peoples, at the hands of two peoples; second, because through those two weeks, we express the two Testaments, the Old, which foretold that the Lord would suffer, and the New, which showed Him suffering; third, because in the two ages of this world, that is, before the Law and under the Law, that same passion was foretold; fourth, so that these two weeks may recall to our memory the murmuring of those who before the law and under the law were in hell (i.e., the Limbo of the Fathers, whose murmuring expresses their longing for Christ), until the time of grace, which is signified in the third week, that is the week of Easter. For from this day, on which “Glory be to the Father...” is omitted, there are two weeks until Easter. But then there is the third week, in which all the glorification that was omitted is restored, for in the third time, which is under grace, all the benefits which our fathers in the Church awaited are rendered to them.

The Harrowing of Hell, depicted in an early 16th-century illuminated manuscript of the history of the Passion in French, known as the Vaux Passional. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

For this reason, “Glory be to the Father...” is omitted, since that verse pertains to the praise of the Trinity, which was dishonored in the Lord’s Passion... for it is clear that Christ, who is the second person of the Trinity, was dishonored. But in the Resurrection, “Glory be to the Father...” is resumed, because through the Resurrection He was glorified with the glory of immortality. ...

(The partial omission of the doxology in Passiontide represents the events leading up to the Lord’s passion, principally, the plotting against Him, while the total omission represents the Passion itself.)

And we should note that it is not said in the introits and responsories, which are about the Passion, and in “Come, let us exult unto the Lord” (the invitatory psalm of the Divine Office), but not in the psalms or hymns, because the psalms symbolize working; but (thus far), they persecuted Him only in their tongues (i.e., in word, but not yet in deed), discussing His murder, and He himself did not cease to do good works. It is therefore not completely omitted... since it was not immediately after the council which they held concerning His murder that the Lamb was handed over to the hands of the wicked.

But in the three days before Easter, it is omitted completely, since then especially was the Trinity dishonored. ...

The Introit begins with the Lord’s prayer in the Passion, “Judge me, o God, and discern my cause,” etc., For in this He instructs us in prayer. There follows, “Send forth Thy light” etc., for he that sees the rewards is made strong in the fight; “and Thy truth”, for he that sees good things, is easily led unto the eternal dwelling places. And it is of the fourth tone because of the form of the Cross, or because of the four things that are asked for, namely, judgement, discretion, liberation and strength.

The Epistle (Hebr. 9, 11-15), “Christ, being a high priest of the good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle” ... shows the efficacy of Christ’s Passion. For through His passion, we are led unto the eternal dwelling places, of which we must be mindful.

... But the Postcommunion is “This is (My) Body” etc., and the priest intones it, to show that the Great Priest changed the old sacrifice into the new; and it is in the eighth tone, because that sacrifice is the true one which will be perfected in Paradise, when we will rise (i.e. on the eighth day) ...

“This is (My) Body, which shall be given up for you: this is the cup of the new covenant in My Blood, says the Lord; do this, as often as you receive it, in remembrance of Me.” (1 Cor. 11, 24-25)

The Feast of St Benedict 2026

Listen carefully, my child, to the master’s precepts, and incline the ear of your heart; willingly receive and effectively fulfill the admonition of your loving father, that by the labor of obedience you may return to Him from whom you had departed by the sloth of disobedience. To you, therefore, my discourse is now addressed, whoever you may be that renounce your own will to do serve under the Lord, Christ the true King, and take up the most mighty bright weapons of obedience. And first of all, as you begin to do any good work, beg of Him with most earnest prayer that it may be perfected, so that He who has now deigned to count us among His children may not at any time be grieved by our evil deeds. For we must always so serve Him with the good things He has given us, that He will never as an angry Father disinherit His children, nor ever as a dread Lord, provoked by our evil actions, deliver us to everlasting punishment as wicked servants who would not follow Him to glory. (The Prologue of the Rule of St Benedict.)

Saints Benedict and Bernard, by Diogo de Contreiras, 1542; painted for the Cistercian convent of Santa Maria de Almoster in Portugal. (Public domain image from Wikimedia.)

The second half of the Hour of Prime is sometimes called the Chapter Office, from the Benedictine custom of reading a part of the Rule of St Benedict at the end of it every day. The text of the Rule was divided into roughly 120 sections, and read in order over the course of four months, making for three full readings a year. At Citeaux, however, this reading began not on January 1st, as in most other houses, but on March 21st, which is both the feast day of St Benedict, and the day the abbey was founded in 1098. Beginning the reading of the Rule on this day became an annual reminder not only of the Order’s founding, but more specifically of the Cistercians’ role as the “strict constructionalists” of Benedictine monasticism, almost as if to say that the observance of the Rule itself began again with the coming of the new Order.

The first two pages of the Rule of St Benedict, with the Prologue to be read on March 21st, from a Cistercian Martyrology printed at Paris in 1689.

Ambrosian Vespers of the Fridays in Lent

In the Ambrosian Rite, the Fridays of Lent stand out from the rest of the week in two very notable ways. The first is that these days are “aliturgical”, meaning that no Mass is celebrated at all. (Exceptions are permitted only for the feasts of St Joseph and the Annunciation when they occur on Friday, the former being of very late institution.) As I have described many times before, the same custom once obtained in Lent in the Roman Rite, but on the Thursdays, and the Saturdays after Ash Wednesday and Passion Sunday, while it still holds in the Byzantine Rite for all the weekdays, likewise excepting only the Annunciation.

The other is that Vespers is celebrated in a special form which shares some characteristics with other liturgical days, but is in itself unique to these Fridays.

Ambrosian Vespers normally begins with a responsory called a lucernarium, which takes its name from the ancient custom that the church’s lamps were lit while it was being sung. The repertoire of these is very small, only twelve unique texts, one of which is sung only on these five Fridays. (On Good Friday, the lucernarium is simply omitted.) This particular one is much longer than is usually the case on a feria; just the opening words, “Dirigatur oratio mea sicut incensum in conspectu tuo. – Let my prayer be directed like incense in Thy sight”, have more notes than the whole of the default ferial text.

This is followed by the hymn Audi, benigne Conditor, which the Roman Rite sings at Vespers every day of Lent properly so called, and the Ambrosian Rite every day but Sunday. (The Ambrosian music is different.) The hymn is regularly followed by another responsory, called “in choro”, since in the cathedral it was sung by the clergy standing around the throne of the archbishop, who led the chanting of it. (Many features of the Ambrosian Office are assigned to specific offices within the cathedral chapter.) The repertoire of these is rather larger, numbering over sixty, but no recording is available of any of the ones that are sung on these days.

A photograph of the clergy and cantors around the archbishop at the high altar of Milan cathedral, during Vespers of the Epiphany. (Colorized by Nicola.)

At this point, there normally follows the psalmody, but on the Fridays of Lent, there are first read four lessons from the Old Testament, taken from Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, or one of the books of Kings. Each lesson is followed by a chant called a psalmellus, which is very similar in structure to the gradual of the Roman Mass, and then a prayer. A similar arrangement of readings, psalmelli and prayers is done at First Vespers of Christmas, Epiphany and Pentecost, and for these days, the material is all include in the Ambrosian Missal in an appendix, since they are followed by the Mass of the vigil. However, our Ambrosian expert Nicola de’ Grandi informs me that no modern printed edition of this material exists for the Friday Vespers of Lent. (In the following table of the lessons, I use the Vulgate naming of the books of Kings; modern Bibles which follow the Hebrew tradition call them 1-2 Samuel and 1-2 Kings.)

The Saturdays of Lent have a particular importance in the Ambrosian Rite. The day is treated almost like a feast, and the historical custom of Milan, already attested by St Ambrose himself (On Elijah and the fast, 34), is not to keep any fast on that day. The Masses have three readings, like a Sunday or a Saint’s day, where ferial days normally have only two. The Gospel of the first of these Saturdays, Matthew 12, 1-8, refers to this custom of not keeping it as a fast day.

“… Jesus went through the corn on the sabbath, and his disciples being hungry, began to pluck the ears, and to eat. And the Pharisees seeing them, said to him, ‘Behold thy disciples do that which is not lawful to do on the sabbath days.’ But he said to them, … ‘have ye not read in the law, that on the sabbath days the priests in the temple break the sabbath, and are without blame? But I tell you that there is here a greater than the temple. … For the Son of man is Lord even of the sabbath.”

Christ Defends the Plucking of Grain on the Sabbath, 1580-90, by the Flemish painter Martin van Valckenborch.

The following four Saturdays are each dedicated to the rites by which the catechumens were prepared for baptism during Lent, and the Gospels of these days refer to these rites very clearly. For example, on the third Saturday, the last verse of the Gospel, Mark 6, 6-13, is, “And they cast out many devils, and anointed with oil many that were sick, and healed them”, because this was the day on which the catechumens were anointed.

For this reason, Dr Cesare Alzati, one of the best modern scholars of the Ambrosian Rite, sees this special form of Vespers, including the readings, as a kind of vigil for these Saturdays. And indeed, the first reading on the third Friday, 1 Kings (Samuel) 16, 1-13a, is the story of King David’s anointing at the hands of the prophet Samuel. It should be noted, however, that the criterion for the choice of these readings is for the most part not so clear.

After the fourth prayer, Vespers returns to its normal order with the psalmody. The Ambrosian psalms for Vespers on Sunday and the weekdays are the same as those in the Roman Office before the Divino Afflatu reform of the psalter, so on Friday, they are 137-141. (Some of the corresponding antiphons have the same text as the Roman ones, but the music is quite different.) The regular prayer after the psalms of Friday is then said:

“Gratias tibi agimus, omnipotens Deus; quod, declinante jam die, nos vespertini luminis claritate circumdas; petimus immensam clementiam tuam, ut, sicut nos hujus luminis claritate circumvallas, ita Sancti Spiritus tui luce corda nostra illuminare digneris. Per ... in unitate ejusdem...

We give Thee thanks, almighty God, since as the day now declines, Thou dost surround us with the brightness of the evening light; we ask Thy boundless clemency that, just as Thou encompass us with the brightness of this light, so also may Thou deign to enlighten our hearts with the light of Thy Holy Spirit. Through our Lord… in the unity of the same Holy Spirit…”

The common order of Friday Vespers in the first official post-Tridentine edition of the Ambrosian breviary, published under the authority of St Charles Borromeo in 1582. The prayer “Gratias tibi agimus” cited above is in the lower part of the left column.

At this point, there would normally be sung first the Magnificat, then several other chants; these vary in their number and arrangement according to the day, and most of them are followed by a prayer. (Ambrosian Sunday Vespers typically has five collects of its own, plus those of any commemorations of occurring feasts.) However, on the Fridays of Lent, these are all completely omitted, including the Magnificat; this looks forward to Holy Week, in which both the Benedictus and the Magnificat are omitted on all the ferias. The only element which is retained from the order followed on other ferial Vespers of Lent is twelve Kyrie eleisons before the standard concluding formula.

Review of Fr. Robert Bradley’s Our Lady’s Psalter

Robert Ignatius Bradley (1924-2013) was born in Spokane, Washington, into a family of eight children, including three brothers who became priests. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1941 and was ordained a priest in 1955. He had two doctorates, one from Columbia University in New York and the other from the Angelicum in Rome. A careful and rigorous scholar, Bradley taught history and theology at Gonzaga University, Seattle University, the University of Dallas, Christendom College, and the FSSP’s Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary in Denton, Nebraska. He was also active in pastoral work. For almost ten years Father Bradley was the chaplain of the Poor Clare Nuns in Alexandria, Virginia, whom he affectionately called his “little brown sparrows” on account of the color of their habits. And for thirty years he was chaplain of Catholics United for the Faith, which he helped to found.

Ironically, Father Bradley remained a faithful Jesuit by steering clear of his confreres, once confessing to a friend that he sought assignments apart from the community because living with his fellow Jesuits “would only likely destroy him and his nerves, if not also his faith.” [1] The one happy exception to this rule was when he moved in with two other Jesuit titans of orthodoxy, Fathers John Hardon and Vincent Miceli, while they were all teaching at St. John’s University. Each priest had a telling and amusing reaction to the new dwelling:

Father Hardon immediately wanted to know where they were going to place the Blessed Sacrament; Father Bradley wanted to be sure that there was enough room on the provided book shelves for his military history volumes; and Father Miceli was especially concerned about the space and convenient conformation of the kitchen, so that he might regularly make for them his good pasta “al dente,” which, according to his cherished traditions, required some tossing aloft of the potentially desirable pasta. [2]

I first met Father Bradley when he was the chaplain of the Latin Mass community in Austin, Texas. His homilies were outstanding: thoughtful, orthodox, and geared to shed more light than heat on his traditionalist congregation. The only problem was that this brilliant man never quite mastered modern acoustics, speaking excitedly and quickly about his subject a mere centimeter away from the microphone. And on two occasions when announcing a tragedy, Father Bradley inadvertently forced a smile. In 2004 he asked us to pray for the 230,000 souls lost in the Indian Ocean Tsunami, even though, he confessed, he did not know what a tsunami was. On another Sunday, Father announced the tragic death of a young priest from the diocese who perished while vacationing with his family “on something that is apparently called… a ‘jet ski.’”

Father Bradley was also an extraordinary confessor. There was nothing pro forma about his administration of the sacrament. When he heard your confession, it felt as if you were the only one in the line: he was entirely attentive to your soul. Moreover, he somehow simultaneously made you see how ugly sin is and how much you should love God for forgiving you. Spending time with Father Bradley made you ache to be holy, as he was holy.

Happily, Father Bradley’s writing has the same salutary effect, as is evident in Our Lady’s Psalter: Reflections on the Mysteries of the Traditional Rosary. Published posthumously and lovingly edited by his dedicated niece Dr. Betty Borsage, O.S.F., the volume is unique even among the myriads of sound literature on the rosary, for it consists of a meditation not on each mystery of the rosary, but on each of the 150 Hail Mary’s that are in the decades of the traditional rosary. For example, the chapter on the first Joyful Mystery (the Annunciation) contains ten entries: the Immaculate Conception, the Birth of Mary, the Presentation of Our Lady, the Espousal of Our Lady, Nazareth, the Annunciation, Our Lady’s Discernment, Our Lady’s Fiat, the Incarnation, and the Mystery of the Annunciation. By the time you finish all 150 one-page entries, you have been thoroughly immersed into the Gospels.

The book is a byproduct of Father Bradley’s piety. Bradley had a deep devotion to Our Lady and prayed three rosaries a day (four, after the Luminous Mysteries were added). As Betty Borsage explains in the preface, the Holy Spirit spoke to Father Bradley as he prayed and meditated and, beginning in 1995, he began to take notes. By the time he finished in 2006, he had 150 hand-written reflections on a stack of yellow legal pads (he disliked computers). “Father Bradley considered these short essays to be his personal life-long love letter to our Blessed Mother,” Borsage relates. And as for the quality of this love letter, I would place Bradley in the same high category as Blessed Columba Marmion for his combination of brevity and exquisite profundity.

Before he died, Father asked Betty to promise him that she would get these meditations published because he believed that they would, with the help of our Blessed Mother, lead many souls back to Jesus. After much effort, she finally found the right home with Angelico Press, which is why they are now seeing the light of day twelve years after Bradley’s death. And as one has come to expect from Angelico, the volume is beautiful: handsomely bound, finely illustrated, and elegantly typeset.

In addition to the rich meditations on the lives of Our Lady and Our Lord, Our Lady’s Psalter includes an introduction by Father Bradley entitled “Modern Day Popes and the Holy Rosary: A Quest for Peace in the World.” As the subtitle suggests, Bradley canvases every Pontiff’s praise of the rosary from Leo XIII to Francis, and the one common theme he finds is the teaching that praying the rosary is essential to bringing peace to the modern world. To me, this was a revelation, as I tend to think of the rosary as a weapon against the devil on a personal and familial level, not as a fulcrum to peace on earth. Father Bradley’s introduction added international urgency to my daily recitation.

Our Lady’s Psalter affects everyone who reads it. I have learned from the publisher of Angelico Press that all the editors who worked on the manuscript were moved by its beauty and that she, the publisher, added these readings to her daily rosary. Online reviews show a similar impact:

What a gift this book has been for me! Father Bradley has inspired me to begin praying the Rosary again.

[This book] is really helping my prayer life… I find my mind and soul deeply reflecting on the words Father has written. Yes, these meditations were truly inspired by the Holy Spirit

Father Robert I. Bradley died on December 20, 2013, at the Jesuit Center in Los Gatos, California at the age of 89. One hour later, he appeared to one of his many nieces, having possibly spent that hour, and that hour only, in Purgatory. His niece woke up and saw Father at the foot of her bed dressed in his black clerics. “Father Bobby, what are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be in California.” He answered, “My body is in California, but I’m in Heaven, and it’s very beautiful and peaceful here.” Then he disappeared. Five hours later, she received a call informing her that her uncle had passed. The niece, who had grown lukewarm in her faith, began going to daily Mass after that.

Later that same day Father Bradley appeared to his niece Betty, the editor of Our Lady’s Psalter, as she was driving her car. Stopped at an intersection, Betty saw two men on donkeys in the middle of the crossing: Saint Joseph on a brown donkey and Father Bradley, dressed in white, on a white donkey. Both smiled at her before disappearing into thin air. When Betty got home, the phone was ringing. Answering it, she learned that her uncle had died hours earlier. Betty speculates that the vision involved donkeys because Father Bradley’s little brother Don died at the age of three from a burst appendix in 1932 on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, but before passing away, Don told his parents that Saint Joseph had visited him and told him he was taking him to Heaven to ride on his donkey.

Quite the family, and quite the man. I am confident that Our Lady’s Psalter will have the same effect on your heart and the hearts of your loved ones as a direct visit from this holy priest.

This review originally appeared in The Latin Mass magazine 34:4 (Christmas 2025), pp. 68-69. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

Notes

[1] Hickson, Robert. “Remembering Father Robert Bradley, S.J. and His Distinctive Manner of Prudence.” Catholicism.org, February 8, 2014. Retrieved August 17, 2025 from https://catholicism.org/remembering-fr-bradley.html, p. 3.

[2] Hickson, p. 1.

The Feast of St Joseph 2026

The Angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, fear not to take Mary as thy wife; for that which is conceived in Her is of the Holy Spirit; and She shall bear a Son, and thou shalt call His name Jesus.’ (The fifth antiphon of First Vespers of St Joseph, taken from the Gospel of the feast, Matthew 1, 18-21.)

St Joseph and the Christ Child, ca. 1617, by the workshop of Jan Breughel the Elder (1568-1625). Within the garland, five oval medallions represent the five Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary, beginning with the Annunciation at the upper left, and running clockwise.

Aña Angelus Dómini appáruit Joseph, dicens, ‘Joseph, fili David, noli timére accípere Maríam cónjugem tuam; quod enim in ea natum est, de Spíritu Sancto est: pariet autem fíilium, et vocábis nomen ejus Jesum.’

Thanks to an old friend, Dom Aelred Hawker of St Michael’s Abbey in Farnborough, England, for sharing these lovely pictures of the church’s altar of St Joseph decorated for today’s feast. The abbey is also England’s national shrine of St Joseph.

Farnborough was founded by the last French empress, Eugénie, the Spanish wife of the last emperor, Napoleon III, while she was living in exile in England, partly to serve as a mausoleum for her husband and son. These candlestick are decorated with the colors of the French monarchy and the fleurs-de-lys of their emblem. 

Another Chant for the Byzantine Liturgy of the Presanctified

Now the powers of heaven invisibly worship with us, for behold, the King of Glory entereth! Behold, the mystical sacrifice, being perfected, is carried forth in triumph. With faith and love, let us come forth, that we may become partakers of eternal life, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!

Нынѣ Силы Небесныѧ съ нами невидимо служать, се бо входитъ Царь Славы: се Жертва тайнаѧ совершена дориноситсѧ. Вѣрою и любовию приступимъ, да причастницы жизни вѣчныѧ будемъ. Аллилуїа, аллилуїа, аллилуїа.

Earlier this month, I posted a setting of Psalm 140, “Let my prayer rise as incense etc.”, composed for the Byzantine Liturgy of the Presanctified gifts, along with a brief description of the first part of the ceremony. For the second part, the Litany of Fervent Supplication and special litanies for the catechumens are said, after which the royal doors are opened. The first part of the chant above is sung, then the Presanctified gifts are carried out the side-door, and back through the royal doors, followed by the second part (“With faith and love...”). This chant, therefore, replaces the hymn “We who mystically represent the Cherubim,” which is sung at the Divine Liturgy as the bread and wine are brought to the altar. The rest of the service is basically identical to the regular order of the Divine Liturgy.

Here is the Greek version:

Νῦν αἱ δυνάμεις τῶν οὐρανῶν σὺν ἡμῖν ἀοράτως λατρεύουσιν· ἰδοὺ γὰρ εἰσπορεύεται ὁ Βασιλεὺς τῆς δόξης. Ἰδοὺ θυσία μυστικὴ τετελειωμένη δορυφορεῖται· πίστει καὶ πόθῳ προσέλθωμεν, ἵνα μέτοχοι ζωῆς ἀιωνίου γενώμεθα. Ἀλληλούϊα, Ἀλληλούϊα, Ἀλληλούϊα.

I also make note here of two particularly beautiful prayers which are said in this second part of the service. The first of these is read silently by the celebrating priest while the deacon chants the litany that leads into the Lord’s Prayer.

“O God of ineffable and unseen mysteries, with whom are the hidden treasures of wisdom and knowledge, who did reveal the service of this liturgy to us, and appointed us hast appointed us sinners through Thy great love for mankind, to offer unto Thee gifts and sacrifices for our sins and for the deeds of ignorance of the people: do Thou Thyself, unseen King, who dost great and inscrutable things, glorious and extraordinary, of which there is no number, look upon us, Thy unworthy servants, who stand at this Thy holy altar as if at Thy cherubic throne, upon which rests Thy only-begotten Son and our God in the dread mysteries set forth thereon; and having delivered us and Thy faithful people from every impurity, sanctify all our souls and bodies with the sanctification which cannot be taken away, so that, partaking of these divine, hallowed things with a pure conscience, with an unashamed face, and with an illuminated heart, and being enlivened by them, we may be united to Christ Himself, our true God, who said, ‘He that eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood, abideth in me, and I in him,’ so that as Thy Word, O Lord, dwelleth in us and sojourneth among us, we may become a temple of Thy all-holy and adorable Spirit, redeemed from every wile of the devil, done either by deed or word or thought, and may obtain the good things promised to us with all Thy saints who from the beginning have been well-pleasing to Thee.”

The second prayer, said just before dismissal at the end of the rite, is known as “the prayer behind the ambo” (ὀπισθάμβωνος εὐχή in Greek, молитва заамвоннаѧ in Church Slavonic), because in Hagia Sophia, it was said by a priest who exited the main sanctuary and recited it while standing behind the great ambo in the nave. (It is seen in this digital reconstruction of the Great Church at about 3:55.)

This prayer originally could vary according to the liturgical occasion, and often included references to the day’s Gospel; many texts of it are preserved in ancient manuscripts. It is now reduced to only two forms, one which is said at the Eucharistic liturgy, and the other at the liturgy of the Presanctified, as follows.

“O Master almighty, who made all creation in wisdom, who through Thy ineffable providence and great goodness hast brought us to these all-revered days for the purification of souls and bodies, for the restraint of passions, for hope of resurrection, who during the forty days didst hand over to Thy servant Moses the tablets (of the Law), letters divinely carved: grant also to us, o good one, to fight the good fight, to complete the course of the fast, to preserve the faith unchanged, to crush the heads of the invisible serpents, to shine forth as victors over sin, and without condemnation to attain unto and worship the Holy Resurrection. For blessed and glorified is Thy all-honorable and magnificent name, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.”

Altar Cards and Portable Altars from Spanish Cathedrals

Given the ecclesiastical climate and the general lack of support for traditional liturgy in Spain, I was not prepared to see, when I visited a number of cities there last July, so many Tridentine altar cards left out on display, as it were. Granted, one might say that they are left there out of sheer inertia, or perhaps because someone thinks they are pretty, but it’s gratifying to notice these artifacts of continuity, which stand as concrete reminders of a tradition lost to these altars for now, but someday reclaimable.

Thus, in the cathedral of Sevilla, we have a side chapel in honor of St. Gregory the Great (you can see in the large center panel the famous scene of his miracle, one of the most frequently depicted subjects in Catholic sacred art), where the Last Gospel and Lavabo cards stand to left and right, while the main card is placed elsewhere in the chapel (note the handsome woodwork):

Already here, beneath the main reredos, we can see a feature that will recur through the churches of Spain: the words of consecration carved into wood or metal and placed right above the center of the altar, as if to ensure that, whatever else may be the case, these essential words are always available to the celebrant, and stand permanently as a verbal testimony to the mystery of transubstantiation.

The same cathedral shows us, elsewhere, a clear example in silver:

Now we come to the famous cathedral of Cordoba, a mosque converted into a cathedral beginning in 1236 (the Christians of the city claim that, prior to the mosque, there was a Visigothic church at the same location). One of the side chapels displays the aforementioned words, this time surrounded by gilt wooden swirls:

Another chapel retains the altar cards in their proper place:

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