On this day, * Simon Peter ascended the gibbet of the cross, alleluia: on this day, he that beareth the keys of the kingdom of heaven passed rejoicing to Christ: on this day, Paul the Apostle, the light of the world, inclining his head, for the name of Christ was crowned with martyrdom, alleluia. (The antiphon at the Magnificat for Second Vespers of Ss Peter and Paul.)
Ss Peter and Paul, with Ss John the Evanglist and Zeno; the left panel of the polyptych of San Zeno by Andrea Mantegna, 1457-60.
Aña Hodie * Simon Petrus ascendit crucis patibulum, alleluia: hodie clavicularius regni gaudens migravit ad Christum: hodie Paulus Apostolus, lumen orbis terrae inclinato capite pro Christi nomine martyrio coronatus est, alleluia.
This antiphon is musically very similar to the antiphon for the Magnificat at 2nd Vespers of Pentecost.
In the Roman Rite, the feast of St Peter and Paul was originally always the first feast of any of the Apostles to occur after Pentecost. The musical similarity between the two antiphons therefore signifies that Peter and his successors lead the Church in the long period from the descent of the Holy Ghost to the end of the world, a period symbolized by the season between Pentecost and Advent. (Since the 11th century, when the feast of St Barnabas was taken into the Roman liturgy from the Byzantine Rite, and kept on its Byzantine date, June 11th, it can occur between Pentecost and Peter and Paul. However, this doesn’t really disturb this ancient arrangement, since Barnabas was not one of the Twelve.)
A polyphonic setting of the Apostles’ Hodie by William Byrd.
In the Roman Rite, the term “vigilia – vigil” traditionally means a penitential day of preparation for a major feast. The Mass of a Saint’s vigil is celebrated after None, as are the Masses of the ferias of Lent or the Ember Days, and in violet vestments; however, the deacon and subdeacon do not wear folded chasubles, as they do in Lent, but the dalmatic and tunicle. The Mass has neither the Gloria nor the Creed, the Alleluja is simply omitted before the Gospel, not replaced with a Tract, and Benedicamus Domino is said at the end in place of Ite, missa est.
The Mass of the Vigil of Ss Peter and Paul in the Echternach Sacarmentary, (895 A.D.; Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des manuscrits, Latin 9433) Note that it is preceded by the Mass of Pope St Leo II, as will be explained below; the preface of the Apostles is said, instead of the common preface prescribed by the Missal of St Pius V.
The vigil of Ss Peter and Paul is one of the oldest observances of the Roman Rite, attested in all pertinent liturgical books as far back as we have them. The Mass chants (except for the Communio) and the two Scriptural readings are the same in the most ancient sources as those in the Missal of St Pius V; the three prayers are the same in the earliest versions of the Gregorian Sacramentary, from the end of the 8th century.
It is one of the Church’s oldest and most universal customs to celebrate Ss Peter and Paul in a joint feast on June 29. However, the Roman liturgy naturally tends to lay greater emphasis on Peter as the one who was a close friend of the Lord in His earthly life, and in whom the primacy was conferred upon the church of Rome. Therefore, just as Peter figures more prominently than Paul in the main feast, so also in the vigil; the Introit, Epistle, and Gospel are all about him, as is the modern Communio taken from the Gospel. This is balanced by the fact that Paul has a special feast of his own on June 30th, while at the vigil, the prayers all refer to “apostles” generically, without naming either one.
Collecta Præsta, quáesumus, omnípotens Deus: ut nullis nos permittas perturbatiónibus cóncuti; quos in apostólicae confessiónis petra solidasti. - Grant, we ask, almighty God, that Thou may not permit us to be shaken by any disturbances, whom Thou hast strengthened on the rock of the apostolic confession. (Here, of course, the “rock” also refers more to Peter.)
Secreta Munus pópuli tui, quáesumus, Dómine, apostólica intercessióne sanctífica: nosque a peccatórum nostrórum máculis emunda. – Sanctify the service of Thy people, we ask, O Lord, by the intercession of the Apostles, and cleanse us from the stains of our sins.
Postcommunio Quos caelesti, Dómine, alimento satiasti: apostólicis intercessiónibus ab omni adversitáte custódi. – O Lord, by the intercession of Thy Apostles, defend from all adversity those whom Thou hast satisfied with heavenly food.
Introitus Dicit Dóminus Petro: Cum esses junior, cingébas te et ambulábas ubi volébas: cum autem senúeris, extendes manus tuas, et alius te cinget et ducet, quo tu non vis: hoc autem dixit, signíficans, qua morte clarificatúrus esset Deum. Ps 18 Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei: et ópera mánuum ejus annuntiat firmamentum. Gloria Patri. Dicit Dóminus Petro.
Introit The Lord said to Peter, ‘When thou wert young, thou didst gird thyself and walk where thou would, but when thou shalt be old, thou wilt stretch forth thy hands, and another will gird thee, and lead thee where thou wouldst not. Now this He said to signify by what manner of death he should glorify God. Ps 18 The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims the works of His hands. Glory be. The Lord said to Peter.
The Epistle, Acts 3, 1-10, is chosen in part because it is the first miracle which Peter performs after Pentecost, the healing of the paralytic at the Beautiful Gate. This signifies his role as the head of the Church in the long period from the descent of the Holy Ghost (which is recounted in the previous chapter) to the end of the world, a period symbolized by the season between Pentecost and Advent. This miracle happened when Peter and John had gone up to the temple to pray “at the ninth hour”, which refers to the hour of the vigil’s celebration after None.
The psalm verse with which the Introit is sung is repeated in the Gradual, and was associated with the Apostles from very ancient times. For example, a commentary on the Psalms written in the 4th century, and formerly attributed to a correspondent (and later disputant) of St Jerome, Rufinus of Aquileia, says “the Apostles and Evangelists … are rightly called ‘heavens’, because of the loftiness of their life, and the ‘firmament’ because of the solidity of their faith and charity; they declare the glory of (Christ’s) divinity, and proclaim to the works of (His) humanity.” (PL 21, 712B in fine) The first part of the Gradual, “Their sound hath gone forth into all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world,” likewise refers to the Apostolic preaching of the Gospel to the whole world. (The exact same verses are also sung in the Byzantine Rite as the Prokimen, the chant before the Epistle, at the Divine Liturgy on June 29.)
Since the Gospel of the feast is Matthew 16, 13-19, the conferral of the primacy of the Church upon Peter, that of the vigil is the prophecy of his death which Christ makes to him at the end of the Gospel of St John.
“Jesus saith to Simon Peter: Simon son of John, lovest thou me more than these? He saith to him: Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. He saith to him: Feed my lambs. He saith to him again: Simon, son of John, lovest thou me? He saith to him: Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. He saith to him: Feed my lambs. He said to him the third time: Simon, son of John, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved, because he had said to him the third time: Lovest thou me? And he said to him: Lord, thou knowest all things: thou knowest that I love thee. He said to him: Feed my sheep. Amen, amen I say to thee, when thou wast younger, thou didst gird thyself, and didst walk where thou wouldst. But when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and lead thee whither thou wouldst not. And this he said, signifying by what death he should glorify God.”
In the brief reading in the breviary in which St Augustine comments on this passage, he explains that Peter here makes a three-fold confession in place of his three-fold denial of Christ during the Passion.
The Crucifixion of St Peter, depicted in the Papal Chapel known as the Sancta Sanctorum at the Lateran Basilica in Rome, ca. 1280.
Since at least the later part of the 8th century, June 28 was also kept as the feast of Pope St Leo II, who died on this day in 683, after a reign of less than 11 months. The Liber Pontificalis records that on the previous day he celebrated the ordination of nine priests, three deacons, and twenty-three bishops; it is not said that it was the ordination ceremony that killed him, but the heat of Rome in June and the inevitable length of such a ceremony make this seem likely more than coincidence. The principal achievement of his pontificate was the confirmation of the acts of the Sixth Ecumenical Council, the third of Constantinople, which condemned the Monothelite heresy; being fluent in Greek as well as Latin, he personally made the official Latin translation of the council’s acts. It is one of the oddities of hagiography that his predecessor St Agatho, in whose reign the council was held, and whose intervention (through his legates) in its deliberations was acclaimed with the words “Peter has spoken through Agatho!”, has never been honored with a general feast day in the West, but is kept on the Byzantine Calendar. Leo, on the other, was a Sicilian, and therefore born as a subject of the Byzantine Empire, but is not liturgically honored in the East. (Back when there were plenty of canonical and monastic churches, such foundations would have celebrated two Masses in choir, that of St Leo after Terce, and that of the vigil after None, just as was done with the feasts of Saints which occur in Lent.)
In this altar in St Peter’s Basilica are kept the relics of three Sainted Popes named Leo, the Second (682-3), the Third (795-816) and the Fourth (847-55). The altar of Pope St Leo I (440-61) is right next to it, and Pope Leo XII (1823-29) is buried in the floor between them.
In 1921, Pope Benedict XV extended the feast of St Irenaeus of Lyon to the general Calendar on his traditional Lyonese date, June 28, moving Leo II to July 3rd, the next free day on the calendar, and the day of his burial according to the Liber Pontificalis. In the reform of 1960, St Irenaeus was moved to July 3rd, and Leo II suppressed, in order to free June 28th up entirely for the Mass and Office of the vigil of Ss Peter and Paul. This was fundamentally a rather odd thing to do, since so many of the vigils then on the general Calendar (including all those of the other Apostles, and, inexcusably, those of the Epiphany and All Saints), were abolished by the same reform.
Less than a decade later, however, with the promulgation of the Novus Ordo, vigils in the classic Roman sense, penitential days of preparation for the major feasts, were simply abolished altogether, “freeing” June 28th from the one observance which had hitherto been absolutely universal on that date, the vigil of Ss Peter and Paul. Irenaeus was therefore returned to that date.
Lo, how the savage crew / Of our proud sins hath rent / The heart of our all-gracious God, / That heart so innocent.
The soldier’s quivering lance / Our guilt it was that drave, / Our wicked deeds that to its point / Such cruel sharpness gave.
O wounded heart, whence sprang / The Church, the Saviour’s bride; / Thou door of our salvation’s ark / Set in its mystic side.
The Adoration of the Five Wounds of Jesus, depicted in a prayerbook made for Cardinal Albrecht of Brandenburg by the Flemish artist Simon Bening, ca. 1525-30.
Thou holy fount, whence flows / The sacred sevenfold flood, / Where we our filthy robes may cleanse / In the Lamb’s saving blood:
By sorrowful relapse, / thee will we rend no more; / But like the flames, those types of love, / Strive heavenward to soar.
Father and Son supreme / And Spirit, hear our cry; / Whose is the kingdom, praise and power, / Through all eternity. Amen.
(The hymn for Vespers of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus; English translation by Fr Edward Caswall (1814-78))
En, ut superba críminum / Et saeva nostrórum cohors / Cor sauciávit ínnocens / Merentis haud tale Dei!
After the priest chants aloud the ending of the Secret, he and the congregation or choir chant aloud three rounds of dialogue. The last thing that the priest chanted was the word Oremus at the beginning of the Offertory Rite; now, we hear him sing the end of the Secret, per omnia saecula saeculorum. It is as if the Offertory were one great oratio, the middle of which was shrouded in silence.
In the first round of dialogue that follows, the priest utters the standard greeting that calls the congregation to prayer: Dominus vobiscum, or “The Lord be with you.” The congregation replies with the standard response: Et cum spiritu tuo, or “And with thy spirit.” The priest does not, however, turn to the people to give the greeting as he does elsewhere: he is already intently beginning his entry into the Holy of Holies, and not looking back.
Instead of saying Oremus or “Let us pray” as he usually does after giving the dominical greeting, the priest says Sursum corda. The standard translation of this expression is “Lift up your hearts” even though there is no explicit verb. Sursum is an adverb for “up” or “upwards”, while corda is the plural of “hearts.” A more literal translation, therefore, is “hearts on high!” “upwards, hearts!” or “Let your hearts be up!” As he says this, he lifts his hands from the altar upwards up to the height of his chest, with the palms facing each other. It is as if he is holding his own heart invisibly before him and lifting it up to the Lord.
The congregation responds with Habemus ad Dominum, commonly translated as “We lift them up to the Lord.” But these words literally mean, “We have to the Lord.” English speakers might be tempted to think of “have” here as an auxiliary verb for the implied past participle “lifted,” so that the meaning is “We have lifted our hearts up to the Lord,” that is, we have completed the action that you told us to do. But Latin does not have constructions of an auxiliary verb and past participle. The more accurate interpretation is that the congregation is declaring that it currently has its heart pointing up to the Lord. “Let your hearts be up!” the priest commands, to which the congregation replies: “We have them up now!” At this moment, then, we should make an extra effort to enact what we have just uttered, to seek the things that are above (Col. 3, 1)—and conversely, as the Byzantine Rite puts it, to set aside all earthly cares. We are about to be present to the most sacrosanct moment on earth. Although our minds may have wandered at times during Mass, we must now get into the zone.
And the best way to get into the zone of a truly light heart, a heart that is “up” and therefore happy as God wants it to be happy, is with an attitude of gratitude, for there is no such thing as an ungrateful person who is happy. (“And when you have your heart up towards the Lord,” St. Augustine once preached, “He Himself holds your heart, lest it fall upon the earth.”) [1] The Canon, the prayer that gives us the Eucharist (“thanksgiving”) is preceded by the Preface, which is an extended call to give thanks, and the Preface is preceded by a short call to give thanks, Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro or “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.”
That command, in turn, is answered with Dignum et justum est. In the older translations of preconciliar hand missals, it is common to see “It is meet and just” as the translation—“meet” being a now archaic word for “fitting, becoming, proper.” [2]. The official 2011 English translation, on the other hand, is “It is right and just” [3].
Of the two, the older translations are more accurate. The problem with “right” is that it can be seen as a synonym of “just,” in the same way that there is little difference between a righteous man and a just man. But the Latin dignus is not synonymous with being just, for it means “suitable, fitting, becoming, proper.” [4] “Meet” would therefore seem to be the obvious choice.
That said, besides its meaning being lost on the general public today, “meet” is not perfect either, for it obscures the important relationship of dignus to worth or dignity. The theme of worthiness runs throughout the Mass, perhaps because of St. Paul’s chilling warning: “For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily [indigne], eateth and drinketh judgment to himself.” (1 Cor. 11, 29) The priest prays twice before the Gospel that he may proclaim it worthily, the Offertory Rite marvels at the double dignity or worth of man as created and redeemed, and before Holy Communion the communicant confesses three times that he is not worthy that the Lord God should enter under his roof. With the response dignum et justum est, the congregation affirms that giving thanks to God is the just thing to do, that it renders to God what is owed Him, for as Aquinas teaches, religion is a virtue that falls under the cardinal virtue of justice. But the response also affirms that giving thanks to God is an eminently worthwhile affair that is worthy of our dignity, even if, as we later confess, we fear we are not worthy to do so.
Finally, that any response is made at all brings us to the very definition of liturgy. In pagan antiquity, a leitourgia was a public service done on behalf of the people, and as Josef Jungmann writes:
it was considered the proper thing for the lawfully assembled people to endorse an important decision, an election, or the taking of office or leitourgia by means of an acclamation. And there are evidences that besides the formula most used, Axios (the Greek for “worthy”), there were phrases like Aequum est, justum est, [and] Dignum est, justum est.
Jungmann also notes that the expression dignum et justum est was in the Jewish order of prayer. The use of it here in the rite of Rome therefore is a reminder of how Christian Rome consummates the yearnings of the two foundational cities of the West, Athens and Jerusalem.
Notes
[1] Sermon 25.2.
[2] OED, “Meet, adj.,” 2b.
[3] GIRM, no. 148
[4] Lewis and Short Latin Dictionary, 578.
[5] Josef Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development, vol. 2 (Benzinger Brothers, 1951), 111.
Today is the feast of the Martyrs Ss John and Paul, two Roman brothers killed for their Christian faith by the Emperor Julian the Apostate, who reigned from 361-63. According to the traditional account of their lives, they had been military officers under Constantine, and later served in the household of his daughter, Constantia, who at her death left them her large fortune to take care of the poor. When Julian, the son of Constantine’s half-brother, came to the throne, they refused to attend him at the court because of his apostasy from the Faith. The emperor would have used this as a pretext to seize the money left by Constantia, but granted them ten days to reconsider; the two Saints therefore gave all the money away for its intended purpose. Terentian, the captain of Julian’s bodyguard, then came to their house, bearing a statue of Jove and the Emperor’s promise that they would be greatly honored if they would worship it; otherwise, they would be immediately killed. The words of their response are sung as the second antiphon of Lauds on their feast day: “Paul and John said to Terentian, ‘If Julian is thy lord, have thou peace with him; we have no other than the Lord Jesus Christ.’ ” They were beheaded at once, and buried within their own house on the Caelian hill, directly across from the imperial residence on the Palatine.
This plaque in the floor of the basilica of Ss John and Paul marks the “place of (their) martydom ... within their own house”. This photo was taken on the Friday after Ash Wednesday, when the Lenten Station is held there, by Mr Jacob Stein, author of the blog Passio Xpi, and reproduced with his kind permission.
Not long after, Julian was slain during a military campaign against Rome’s ancient enemy, Persia, a campaign which he had instigated and in which he apparently believed the pagan gods would grant him victory as a vindication of his “revival” of their worship. A later apocryphal tradition says that he was killed by a Christian soldier in his army named Mercurius, who is honored in the East as a Saint; his death happened on the feast day of Ss John and Paul, which is probably not coincidental. Julian’s successor Jovian converted the Saints’ house into a church, and many possessed persons were healed there, including the son of Terentian; the latter became a Christian, and wrote the passion of the Martyrs.
Scholars of hagiography do not regard the details of this traditional account as historically reliable, but there can be no reasonable doubt that devotion to Ss John and Paul is extremely ancient. One of the most interesting suggestions of this is found in the manuscript improperly known as the Leonine Sacramentary, now kept in the library of the cathedral chapter of Verona. This is actually not a sacramentary, the ancient predecessor of the Missal, which contains only the priest’s parts of the Mass, namely, the prayers, prefaces and Canon. It is rather a privately made collection of the texts of a large number of “libelli missarum”, small booklets which contained the prayers and prefaces of Masses for specific occasions. These elements often varied from church to church even within the same city; the Leonine Sacramentary is a wildly irregular gathering of them, and has twenty-eight different Mass formulae for Ss Peter and Paul, fourteen for St Lawrence, and eight for Ss John and Paul. The collection was certainly made in Rome itself, since it contains numerous specific references to the city; it is generally dated to the mid-6th century.
In the fifth Mass of Ss John and Paul, the preface reads as follows.
VD. Quamvis enim tuorum merita pretiosa justorum, quocumque fideliter invocentur, in tua sint virtute praesentia, potenter tamen nobis clementi providentia contulisti, ut non solum passionibus Martyrum gloriosis urbis istius ambitum coronares, sed etiam in ipsis visceribus civitatis Sancti Johannis et Pauli victricia membra reconderes, ut interius exteriusque cernentibus et exemplum piae confessionis occurreret et magnificae benedictionis non deesset auxilium. Per.
Truly it is worthy… For although the precious merits of Thy just ones are present in Thy might wheresoever they be faithfully invoked, Thou didst nonetheless in Thy merciful providence mightily deign not only to crown the bounds of this city with the glorious passions of the martyrs, but also to place the victorious bodies of Saints John and Paul in its very heart, so that those who behold it from within and without may be met with the example of the holy confession (of the Faith), and not lack the help of Thy magnificent blessing. Through (Christ our Lord.)
In ancient times, there was a boundary within Rome called the pomerium, and for a variety of legal and religious purposes, only what was inside this boundary was counted as part of the city. Traditionally, when an Emperor had expanded the territory held by Rome, the pomerium was also expanded, until the reign of the Emperor Aurelian (270-75), who made it coterminous with the city walls. It was illegal to bury the dead inside the pomerium, and this is part of the reason why the Christian catacombs, and hence the tombs of the Martyrs buried within them, are all found outside the city. The words of the preface given above about “crown(ing) the bounds of the city with the passions of the Martyrs” refer to the placement of the Martyrs’ graves encircling the city.
An inscription from the reign of the Emperor Claudius, which notes that “having expanded the territories of the Roman people (by the conquest of the island of Britain in 43AD), he expanded and set the bounds of the pomerium.” The photographer has highlighted in red an upside-down F in the last line of the inscription; this device was invented by Claudius personally as a way of writing the consonantal sound W, to distinguish it from the vowel U, both of which were written with the letter V. The new letter never caught on, and was abandoned after Claudius’ death in 54AD. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Pierre Tribhou; CC BY-SA 4.0)
It is not known why the Roman law about the pomerium was not heeded in regard to the burial of Ss John and Paul, but the author of the preface was clearly aware that this was very unusual, and saw in it a special act of God’s providence in the Christianization of Rome. In order for this to be noteworthy, the ancient Roman laws and taboos about the burial of bodies within the pomerium would need to be not necessarily in force, but at least remembered. This suggests that the text of the preface may be rather older than the manuscript, going back to a time when such laws and taboos were in fact known and obeyed, or had been so in living memory, and Christianity was still ascendant, but not yet wholly triumphant, in the Eternal City.
From the Breviary of St Pius V, 1568, a reading from the fourth Mystagogical Catechesis of St Cyril, bishop of Jerusalem and Doctor of the Church, appointed for the Octave Day of Corpus Christi.
The teaching of blessed Paul seems of itself amply sufficient to make certain your faith concerning the Divine Mysteries; and you, having been made worthy thereof, have become, so to speak, of one Body and of one Blood with Christ. For he proclaimed that on the night He was betrayed, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it, and gave it to His disciples, saying: Take, and eat, this is my Body. And taking the cup, and giving thanks, He said: Take this, and drink; this is my Blood. Since therefore He Himself has proclaimed this and said, “This is my Body”, who will dare henceforth to doubt that it is so? And since He again has said so insistently “This is my Blood”, who would ever doubt, and say that it is not his Blood?
Once, at Cana in Galilee, He turned water into wine, which has a certain similarity to blood; and shall we think him too little worthy of our belief, when He said He would turn wine into Blood? Being called to that marriage, by which two bodies are joined, He did this miracle, which none expected. Shall we not all the more firmly believe that He has given us His Body and Blood, to be our food and drink, and thus receive them with all certainty as His Body and his Blood? For under the appearance of bread He gives us His Body, and under the appearance of wine, His Blood, so that when you shall receive it, you may taste the Body and Blood of Christ, being made a partaker of the same Body and Blood. Thus indeed do we become Christ-bearers, that is, bearing Christ in our bodies, when we receive His Body and Blood into our members; thus, according to the blessed Peter, do we come to share in the divine nature.
…Wherefore I would not have you understand these things, as if they were merely and simply bread, merely and simply wine; for they are the Body and Blood of Christ. For even if your senses deny this fact, yet let faith confirm you in this belief. Judge not the thing by the taste thereof, but let faith assure thee beyond all doubt, that you have been made worthy to partake of the Body and Blood of Christ.
When St Thomas Aquinas composed the office of Corpus Christi, known from its first antiphon as Sacerdos in aeternum, he wrote not only the musical texts such as the antiphons and hymns, but also the sermon to be read in the first and second nocturns of Matins, according to the custom of his times. This sermon, Immensa divinae largitatis beneficia, is found in almost all pre-Tridentine breviaries; however, it is not long enough to provide readings for Matins on each day of the octave. Other readings had therefore to be selected for the remaining days; the bull Transiturus by which Pope Urban IV promulgated the feast was a popular choice. The 1529 Breviary of the Roman Curia has readings from another bull, Si Dominum in sanctis of Clement V, confirming that of Pope Urban; at Bamberg, Eugenius IV’s Excellentissimi Corporis, granting or confirming a long list of indulgences attached to the observation of Corpus Christi, was read as the sixth lesson of Matins on the feast itself. (This single reading occupies almost 140 lines!) The Sarum Breviary gives several very long tracts from the Decree of Gratian, broadly speaking the medieval code of Canon Law; the third part, called On Consecration, is a long florilegium of texts from the Church Fathers and various other sources, and is quite suitable for spiritual reading despite being essentially a law textbook.
St. Thomas Aquinas in Glory among the Doctors of the Church, by Francisco de Zurbarán, 1631
When the Roman Breviary was revised after the Council of Trent, almost all of these passages were substituted with readings from the Fathers of the Church. The sermon of St Thomas remains on the feast itself and the following day; the remaining days of the octave are given over to Ss John Chrysostom, Cyprian and Ambrose, and last of all, on the octave itself, the passage quoted above from St Cyril of Jerusalem. It is not difficult to see in the choice of such readings a response by the Catholic Church to the early Protestants, and their rejection of the traditional doctrine of the Eucharist. Papal bulls or medieval canon law collections would hold no authority with the “reformers” of the age (Martin Luther burned both at Wittenberg), whether openly Protestant or uncertain Catholics, who were many in that age. The writings of the Fathers, on the other hand, were frequently appealed to as proof that the teachings of the Protestants were in fact those of the primitive Church, and things like Eucharistic processions and Adoration later corruptions of the Medieval era. In such a climate, the writings of St Cyril in particular were a source of profoundest embarrassment to early and later Protestant controversialists. By including such a passage in a corpus of sermons that begins with a work of St Thomas Aquinas, the Breviary of St Pius V asserts a continuity of doctrine from St. Paul to the Church Fathers to the greatest theologian of the medieval, scholastic tradition.
Click the following links to see the earlier parts in this series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
American traditionalists like to sound off about how there are no strict rubrics for the lay faithful. This is true as far as it goes, but virtually all authorities (such as editors of hand missals and of ceremonials) agreed that if the people did anything, they should follow the rubrics for the clerics. In other words, rubrics are normative, if not strictly binding. Of course, one cannot do the impossible and is excused from the difficult, but we self-selecting traditional Catholics can do better for the greater glory of God and for the edification of other faithful.
It would be especially good to work on the posture of the acolytes, which goes hand-in-hand with that of the choir at key moments like the Canon or the orations on certain days of the year, most often at the Requiem Mass, since this is sung more often in parishes than the ferial Masses. This in turn will influence the people’s gestures such that they correspond better to the liturgical action, better drawing the distinction between festal or dominical and penitential.
But there is one rubric that does demand attention. The liturgical books could not be clearer that, on Good Friday, the priest, the ministers, and servers take off their shoes and proceed to the back. They genuflect on both knees three times before kissing the cross. The faithful do exactly the same. This is something that was detested by Thomas Cranmer at the English Reformation; we would do well to carry out perhaps the most elaborate form of adoration in the Roman rite, which is not known (unlike the Byzantine liturgy) for its full-body prostrations.
As to the last elements, the pontifical ceremonies and the ritual, the former is out of pastors’ hands unless they find a willing bishop, although the pontifical Mass itself has very few changes except for those made in the entire 1962 liturgy, e.g. the omission of the Judica me, etc. on certain days. The Pontificale Romanum and the Cæremoniale Episcoporum govern that form of the Mass, to which no changes were made, apparently due to error or oversight on the part of Rome. Thus, one is unquestionably free to celebrate using these older books. Plus, you either do a pontifical ceremony, or you do nothing. There is no middle ground of transition.
Archbishop Sample celebrating Candlemas in Rome with the traditional ceremonies; it is worthwhile to invite a friendly bishop to rediscover the riches of his heritage.
The Ritual presents particular challenges, since the vernacular editions were sometimes substantially different in the 1950s and in 1962, and the permissions granted to all priests (versus bishops or religious of an order or congregation) did not exist before; however, if one acquiesces to using the Latin alone, then one can use virtually any edition for the ordinary prayers and blessings; those seriously interested should follow the Hand Missal History project, which promises to detail the history of the vernacular in the rituals over the last several centuries.
It bears repeating that there is no one pace to match, one calendar to follow, although I personally think that the order outlined in this four-part series is sound and can be adapted most easily to the needs of parishes, religious communities, and seminaries of societies of apostolic life, for private usage if not public usage in these difficult times. It’s not my neck on the block, so moving glacially would not especially disturb me, although I hope that the actual experience of celebrating the traditional Holy Week, or even watching it online, and reading articles and books on the pre-55 Roman Rite, has by now convinced even the most reluctant traditional or trad-adjacent priest of the supremacy of the majestic traditional Roman Rite celebrated without the ever-accelerating and ever-burgeoning changes of the twentieth century.
I should address some final concerns. I advocate for celebrating the pre-Pius XII liturgy because it is the fullest approved expression of the Roman rite following the reforms of Saint Pius X; this is important, because the John XXIII breviary has at its heart the Pius X psalter. This is the familiar office for traditionally-minded clergy, and there are many beloved things in these liturgical books, particularly the 1927 Mass and Office of the Sacred Heart.
In addressing arguments from both progressives and conservatives, we acknowledge that the 1960 rubrics have the flaws which we already criticize in the Novus Ordo. These flaws prompt us to take up the non-deformed books, yet without being in a situation where we are, as it were, making things up on the fly, as we go along; for that would be just a different version of tinkeritis or optionitis.
Integrity is important; we should not try to make up a new calendar, a new system of precedence, or a new breviary with the Jubilee rubrics of 1900 (and so, with the historical cursus psalmorum)—on our own authority. We should not follow some hybrid forever out of mere convenience, or flip-flop between rubrics. Those who are serious should restore the ceremonies and follow the rubrics of a definite edition such as the 1939 missal, and then stick to it.
In case this was not clear, I reiterate that the times are strange, if not dangerous. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? This is an evergreen question, but with certain technological developments, both bishops and Roman curial officials can, and do, micromanage, with ease. Nor should people do things which gravely offend them or which require disobedience in a sort of slimy way. I encourage people—the clergy above all—to do these things quietly and with great love for the Lord and for their people, but without dissimulation or other troublesome behaviors that cannot bring victory.
I pray that one day, every community that currently uses or has previously used the usus antiquior will be able one day to do so according to the integral editions when the right moment comes. Until then, we take it step by step, brick by brick.
The modern visitor to Florence can easily enjoy the city as it stands today without having to think of the more warlike aspects of its history. The Battle of Montaperti in 1260, when Florence was defeated and nearly destroyed by the other Tuscan cities, the endless faction-fighting between Guelphs and Ghibellines, and the siege of 1530 that made the Medicis the rulers of Tuscany all seem very remote as you stroll about the Uffizi under the placid gaze of Renaissance saints, and enjoy your bistecca alla fiorentina in a quiet trattoria. But Florence has preserved an interesting reminder of its bellicose past, the “calcio storico fiorentino – historical Florentine soccer”, a no-holds-barred soccer game with very few rules and a lot of violence, which forms part of the annual celebrations of the city’s patron saint, John the Baptist.
A painting of a Florentine soccer match being held in front of the Dominican church of Santa Maria Novella in 1561.
The origins of the game are uncertain. Attempts have been made to connect it to a similar game called “harpastrum” played by the Romans, but, as the article about it on Italian Wikipedia rightly notes, there is no mention of it among the constant references to Florence and its culture in any of Dante’s writings, and the first attestation of it dates to the later 15th century. The local tradition brags especially that it was played during the aforementioned siege of 1530, as the city’s way of showing its lack of concern for the enemies at the gate. (Florence surrendered to the besieging armies about six months later.) After falling out of use for about two centuries, it was revived in 1930 for the 400th anniversary of the siege, and has been kept up ever since, with interruptions for the Second World War, and some... other things that happened more recently...
Image from Wikimedia Commons by Lorenzo Noccioli, CC BY-SA 3.0. This picture was taken in 2008, the year I attended the finale. (Same attribution for the photo below.)
In 2008, I attended the finale, which is held on St John’s feast day, with some friends who were studying in Florence. It begins with a troop of “sbandierai – flag-tossers”, who perform a really impressive display of the medieval art (or game) of waving around huge but very light flags, then throwing them up into the air and catching them again, a sort of pre-gunpowder version of fireworks. This is followed by a very long procession onto the sand-covered playing field in Piazza Santa Croce, with costumed personages representing every aspect of medieval and renaissance life, from government officials to military corps. The procession is slow and dignified, and gives no hint of the mayhem that ensues when the actual game begins.
It also traditionally included, inexplicably to the uninitiated, a huge white horned cow or bull calf of a highly prized breed called “chianina”, wearing a decorated blanket, and looking very out of place amid drummers, standard bearers and the strutting horses of the cavalry officers. (This was done when I saw the game in 2008, but the custom has since been discontinued.) After the procession has filled the enormous field, a signal is given, everyone rushes off the field in no particular order (very Italian), and the “game” begins without further ado.
I put the word “game” in quotes because the game aspect of calcio storico is frequently not so evident; in fact, it could more accurately be described as a huge street brawl, in which a ball is occasionally brought into play. When I saw it, within 20 seconds of the starting gun, two sets of players from the opposing teams had begun boxing each other. Wrestling is a big part of calcio storico, the idea being that an opponent grappled to a standstill is one less guy scoring for the enemy, although the grappler is of course also immobilized by having to hold him down.
A video of this year’s calcio storico finale, played earlier today, complete with the procession described above. N.B. YouTube flags this for violent content, and requires one to sign in and confirm one’s age.
About half of the players start with their shirts off, which seemed a very counter-intuitive choice, given that the “no-holds-barred” aspect of calcio storico would seem to demand some kind of protective clothing. In point of fact, it is perfectly permissible to rip your opponents’ clothes off, and within five minutes the playing field was littered with the remains of ripped shirts. It is also, apparently, legal to “pants” people, so all the players wear very thick and tight belts, to obviate such a compromising eventuality. One of the oddest aspects of the game is the little truces that take place among the players as the fighting, running and summer sun wear them down. Two players from opposite sides grab each other’s belts and stand still; since they are both too tired to run or fight any more, they keep an eye on each other by holding the belts, and let the less tired players deal with the ball.
An engraving which shows the set-up of the game in Piazza Santa Croce in 1688, which is pretty similar, mutatis mutandis, to the modern one. (Note the little tents on either end of the playing field.)
Ah yes, the ball. It is easy to forget that there is a ball as you watch the 40+ players punch, kick, tackle and grapple with each other, but there is actually a point to it all. The waist-high barrier that defines the rectangular playing field has in the middle of each short side a very narrow medieval-looking tent; when my friends and I came into the stadium, we assumed this was the goal, and remarked how difficult it must be to score with such a narrow goal. In reality, the entire short side of the playing field is the goal, which means that if a player from the other side gets close to it, he is fairly likely to score. The two little tents are for the flagbearers of the two sides to hide out while the battle rages; each time a goal is scored they change sides, running though the chaos to take possession of the other tent. The Confraternity of Mercy, a famous free ambulance corps whose headquarters are right next to the Duomo, is also present in force. To some degree they tend the wounded, but most of the wounded just keep playing (and bleeding); the Confraternity mostly just pour water on the players as they wrestle in the sand, a very useful service that prevents the calcio storico equivalent of road rash.
“Oh, right... the ball...”
After 50 minutes of this craziness, the game abruptly came to an end with a signal from a gun, and an announcement that the Santa Maria Novella quarter’s team had beaten the homefield team of Santa Croce by 9 to 4½. My friends and I had seats on Santa Croce’s side of the stadium; wise heads apparently decided long ago that it was best to keep the supporters of the various teams apart from each other, lest the activities on the field spill over into the stands. (The tournament has been suspended or even annulled more than a few times due to acts of violence and vandalism.) While Santa Maria Novella’s team was visibly younger and tougher, it would be hard to imagine more enthusiastic fans than Santa Croce’s, who gave everybody on their side a free blue t-shirt, and kept up a nearly continuous chant of “Picchi’azzurro! Picchi’azzurro! – hit them, blue! hit them, blue!”
I wanted to share in their disappointment [note], but a player from their side had already been carried away on a stretcher, and several others were walking around with icepacks and dazed expressions on their faces. In the meantime, the procession reassembled on the field, and in a slow and wholly dignified way marched off the field in the order in which it came. And we learned from the announcer what the winning side’s prize was – they got the cow. I was unable to find out whether or how soon it would become a large number of steaks, which are justifiably one of the most famous things about Florentine cuisine, and can also be used for healing black eyes.
[note] Santa Croce are the Yankees of the game, with 21 victories since the last major rule change in 1978. This year, however, Santa Maria Novella scored a crushing 18-4 victory over the perennial losers San Giovanni, who have won only six times since 1930, mostly recently 29 years ago, in 1996.
The Birth of St. John the Baptist is one of the most ancient of all the Church’s feasts; it is mentioned several times by St. Augustine in his sermons, and in a Martyrology written around 440 A.D. and falsely attributed to St. Jerome. The date is determined by the words of the Gospel of St. Luke that St. John’s mother Elizabeth was six months pregnant at the time of the Annunciation (chap. 1, 36). The feast is kept on the 24th, however, where Christmas and the Annunciation are kept on the 25th of their respective months, because of a peculiar feature of the ancient Roman calendar. The Romans counted the days backwards from three points in each month, called the Kalends, the Nones and the Ides (“Kalendae”, “Nonae” and “Idus” in Latin). Thus Julius Caesar was killed on the Ides of March, which we call March 15th, but the Roman name for March 14th was “the day before the Ides of March”. Therefore, the birth of both the Savior and His Forerunner are kept seven days before the Kalends of the following months.
The feast was formerly kept with two different Masses, one of which was to be said early in the morning, and the other after Terce. This custom gradually died out and was observed only in a very few places at the time of the Tridentine liturgical reform; the Mass in the Missal of St. Pius V is the second of these two. St. Augustine notes that John the Baptist is the only Saint whose birth the Church celebrates apart from that of the Savior Himself, the feast of Our Lady’s Birth having not yet been instituted in his time. This custom is observed in fulfillment of the words of the Angel Gabriel to John’s father Zachariah that “Many shall rejoice in his birth,” (Luke 1, 14) which are read on the vigil the day before.
Folio 174v of a 13th century Missal according to the Use of Paris, with the morning Mass of the Nativity of St John the Baptist, beginning in the upper part of the left column, and the day Mass beginning at the lower right. (Bibliothèque nationale de France. Département des manuscrits. Latin 1112)
The Gospel of the vigil, Luke 1, 5-17, was formerly continued at the first Mass of the feast with verses 18-25, recounting Zachariah’s doubt and punishment, and the conception of the Baptist, ending with the words of his mother, “Thus hath the Lord dealt with me in the days wherein he hath had regard to take away my reproach among men.” The Gospel of the second (now only) Mass, Luke 1, 57-68, is one of very few that does not begin with the words “At that time,” but rather starts directly with “Elizabeth’s full time of being delivered was come, and she brought forth a son.” The name of St John’s mother is also the first word of the first antiphon of Lauds and Vespers, which reflects the fact that it was she, and not Zachariah, who declared St John’s name, the name which, as St Ambrose notes, “Elizabeth learned by prophecy, ... not from her husband.”
The liturgical commentator William Durandus, writing at the end of the 13th century, says that “the Church solemnizes three births, namely, those of John the Baptist, the Blessed Mary, and Christ. And indeed John was the morning-star, for just as the morning-star precedes the sun, so he preceded Christ; for he preached Him first. Mary was the dawn. The birth of Christ was the rising of the sun, because in Him the splendor of the Father appeared.” (Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, 7, 28) The feasts of the Birth of Christ and of John the Baptist are preceded by penitential vigils, Masses celebrated in violet, without the Gloria in excelsis or Alleluia, since John preached a baptism of repentance, and Christ came to call sinners, but the Virgin had no need of repentance, and so the feast of Her birth has no vigil.
It has often been noted that the days of the year begin to grow shorter right after the Birth of John the Baptist, which is three days after the summer solstice, and begin to grow longer right after the Birth of Christ, four days after the winter solstice. The priest who taught me to serve the traditional Mass once explained in a beautiful homily of two sentences how this symbolizes the words in which St. John “summed up the entire Gospel in a single sentence, ‘I must decrease, that He may increase.’ ” (John 3, 30)
A Greek icon of the Nativity of John the Baptist, 1670
Many popular customs are attached to this feast. Durandus notes that it was a custom in places to make bonfires of the bones of animals, to drive away evil influences (such as dragons!) that were believed to pollute the waters in summertime, a custom which he is astute enough to note was inherited “from the gentiles”. But he also notes that bones were burned to commemorate the fact that the bones of John the Baptist were burnt “in the city of Sebaste.” (Rationale 7, 14) In point of fact, to this day, the city of Genoa preserves in its cathedral relics that are venerated as the ashes of St. John the Baptist, the tradition being that the bones were deliberately burnt to make the relics easier to transport and hide from iconoclasts. As any good medieval liturgist would, Durandus also sees in this custom an allegory of the passing of the Old Law and the coming of the New, noting that torches were also made of the bones to symbolize that John was “the light, the lantern that burned and preceded, the forerunner of the true light that enlighteneth every man.” A vestige of this custom is preserved in the Rituale Romanum of Pope Paul V, which provides for a blessing of a fire on the eve of St. John.
It is also a well-known fact that the Vesper hymn of St. John provided the names of the notes for the first diatonic scale, noted by Guido of Arezzo in the 11th century. The opening stanza reads
Ut queant laxis / resonare fibris Mira gestorum / famuli tuorum, Solve polluti / labii reatum, Sancte Ioannes.
The six notes of the original scale are named for the syllables at the beginning of each half-line, each such syllable occurring on a higher note than the one preceding. The names of the notes were thus originally, “ut – re – mi – fa – sol – la”; the scale was later increased to seven notes with the addition of “si”, from “Sancte Ioannes”. In Italian, “ut” was changed to “do” to make it easier to pronounce and sing, since words do not end in hard consonants in Italian, and “si” was changed to “ti” in the English-speaking word in the 19th century.
Less well known is the story of how the hymn was composed by a monk of Monte Cassino called Paul the Deacon, who also wrote an important “History of the Lombards”, and compiled the collection of homilies and sermons which forms the traditional corpus of patristic writings in the Divine Office. According to Durandus, Paul had lost his voice one Easter when he was supposed to sing the Exsultet, and “wrote the hymn Ut queant laxis in honor of John the Baptist that his voice might be restored, at the beginning of which he asks for the restoration of his voice, which he obtained, as it was also restored to Zachariah by the merits of St. John.” (Rationale ibid.)
So that these thy servants can, with all their voice, sing thy wondrous deeds, clean the blemish of our spotted lips, O Saint John!
The Birth of John the Baptist, by Domenico Ghirlandaio, in the Tornabuoni Chapel of Santa Maria Novella, the Dominican parish in Florence, 1485-1490.
Truly it is worthy and just, right and profitable to salvation, that we should give Thee thanks always and everywhere, o Lord, holy Father, almighty and everlasting God, holding the solemn fast, by which we anticipate the birth of blessed John the Baptist. Whose father, when he doubted the message of God’s word that he was to be born, was deprived of the use of his voice, and received it back when he was born; who grew silent when he did not believe the Angel’s promise, but at the birth of the glorious herald, gained his speech and became a prophet. And likewise his mother, being sterile and worn by old age, did not only become fruitful in childbearing, but was also filled with the Holy Spirit, so that she might receive the fruit of the Blessed Mary with a blessing with eager voice. And himself that was begotten, as the one who shows the way to heaven, urged that the way of the Lord be prepared, and being lately conceived and brought forth in the last age of his parents, proclaimed that the Redeemer of the human race would be born in the last times. (An ancient preface for the vigil of the Nativity of St John the Baptist, first attested in the oldest surviving collection of Roman liturgical texts, the so-called Leonine Sacramentary.)
VD: exhibentes sollemne jejunium, quo beati Johannis baptistae natalicia praevenimus. Cujus genitor et verbi Dei nuntium dubitans nasciturum vocis est privatus officio, et eodem recepit nascente sermonem; quique Angelo promittente dum non credit obmutuit, magnifici praeconis exortu et loquens factus est et profeta: materque pariter sterilis aevoque confecta non solum puerperio fecunda processit, sed etiam, quo beatae Mariae fructum sedula voce benedictione susciperet, spiritu divinitatis impleta est; ipseque progenitus, utpote viae caelestis adsertor, viam domino monuit praeparari, seraque in suprema parentum aetate concretus et editus, procreandum novissimis temporibus humani generis disseruit redemptorem.
The panel shown above is one of six images of the life of St John the Baptist, by a painter called Deodato Orlandi, who was active in the area of Pisa and Lucca, between 1284 and his death in roughly 1330; almost nothing is known of his life. The panels are now in the Gemäldegallerie in Berlin. As is the case with most Italian painters of his era and region, his work is heavily influenced by the style of Byzantine icons; this is especially noticeable in the gold striations in the robes, and the gold backgrounds. It will be his contemporary Giotto (1267-1337) whose style will create a strong impetus to move away from this to a more naturalistic style, in which the sense of space is created by, e.g., variations in the shades of color within the robes, and the use of blue backgrounds to represent the sky.
The Visitation
The Birth of the Baptist
The imposition of the name John.
John preaching to the crowds in the desert.
The Last Judgment; the classic medieval arrangement of this motif puts the Virgin Mary to Christ’s right (our left) as the greatest of all the Saints, and John the Baptist on the opposite side, as the second greatest, him of whom the Lord said, “Greater man hath not been born of woman.”
