The Feast of St Lawrence in Other Western Rites

It was the custom of the earliest Christians to obtain transcripts of the trials of their martyrs whenever they could. These were kept in the archives of local churches not merely for the sake of record keeping, but so that they could be read during the liturgy, a tradition which is attested in the writings of several of the Fathers. The Roman custom of reading the lives of the Saints in the Divine Office derives from this, and in the Ambrosian Mass, it is still to this day permitted to substitute the life of a Saint for the Old Testament reading on his feast day.

The following video was taken in 2014 in the basilica of St Ambrose in Milan, on the feast of the Martyrs Ss Protasius and Gervasius; after the Gloria and Collect, the passion of the two martyrs is read.

Because of this custom, there survive indisputably authentic records of the trials of a number of early martyrs (e.g. Ss Perpetua and Felicity, Ss Fructuosus and Companions, and St Cyprian); however, we have none from the city of Rome. A professor of mine had a theory as to why this is so: he believed that the archives of the church of Rome had been destroyed during the persecution of Diocletian (303-6), and this would explain why we are dependent on documents from later writers (sometimes much later) for information about the martyrdoms of so many prominent Roman Saints, such as Agnes or Pope Clement I.

And thus, the earliest major source for the life of St Lawrence, whose feast we keep today, is St Ambrose, who was born in Trier, where his father was serving as pretorian prefect of Gaul, some eighty years after the great martyr’s death in 257. Ambrose’s family, however, was originally Roman, and when his father died while he was still quite young, his mother took him back to Rome, where he studied law and rhetoric. Many of his writings evince familiarity with the customs and traditions of the Eternal City (for example, he is the first witness to an early recension of the Roman Canon), and so we may take him as a reliable witness to those which concern St Lawrence.

A partial view of the frescoed ceiling of the chapel of St Sixtus within the basilica of St Lawrence in Milan, by the German painter Johann Christoph Storer (1611-71). Behind St Lawrence, holding a knife. is the martyr St Aquilinus, who is buried in a chapel on the opposite side of the same basilica, and next to him, St Sixtus, in whose honor the chapel was built in the late 5th or early 6th century. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, CC BY 3.0.)

One of the fourteen hymns considered indisputably his work was written in honor of St Lawrence; it is sung in the Ambrosian Office at Lauds and both Vespers. Unfortunately, it seems that none of the great English translators such as Fr Caswall or John Mason Neale put their hands to it, and so we must be content with my poor prose version.

Apostolorum supparem, Laurentium archidiaconum, Pari corona martyrum Romana sacravit fides.	The faith of Rome sanctified the archdeacon Lawrence, nearly equal to the Apostles, with an equal martyrs’ crown.
Xystum sequens hic martyrem, Responsa vatis retulit: Mœrere, fili, desine: Sequere me post triduum.	He, following the martyr Sixtus, received these words as those of a prophet: “Cease mourning, my son, after three days thou wilt follow me.”
Nec territus pœnæ metu, Hæres futurus sanguinis, Spectavit obtutu pio Quod ipse mox persolveret.	And not frightened by the fear of suffering, soon to be heir of (Sixtus’) blood, he dutifully be- held that which he himself would soon undergo.
Jam tunc in illo martyre Egit triumphum martyris; Successor æquus syngrapham Vocis tenens et sanguinis.	Already then in that martyr he led a martyr’s triumph, holding as his successor the promise of his words and blood.
Post triduum iussus tamen Census sacratos prodere, Spondet pie, nec abnuit Addens dolum victoriæ.	At last, after three days, ordered to hand over the sacred treasures, he dutifully promised and did not refuse, adding guile to victory.
Spectaculum pulcherrimum! Egena cogit agmina, Inopesque monstrans prædicat: Hi sunt opes Ecclesiæ.	A most beautiful sight! He gathers the needy crowds, and showing the poor, he proclaims, “These are the riches of the Church.”
Lucro piorum perpetes Inopes profecto sunt opes; Avarus illusus dolet, Flammas et ultrices parat.	The poor are the everlasting riches gained by the pious; the greedy man deceived, grieves, and prepares the avenging flames.
Fugit perustus carnifex, Suisque cedit ignibus: Versate me, martyr vocat, Vorate coctum, si lubet.	The executioner is burned and flees, and yields to his own flames; “Turn me over”, the martyr cries out,  “and eat what is cooked, if you like.”
Gloria tibi, Domine, gloria Unigenito, una cum sancto Spiritu in sempiterna sæcula. Amen.	Glory to Thee, o Lord, glory to the Only-begotten Son, together with the Holy Spirit unto everlasting ages. Amen.

The Ambrosian preface for St Lawrence beautifully compares his faith to gold refined in the fire.

VD: Qui hodierna die Levitæ tui Laurentii fidem áuream igne ardentissimo comprobasti; ut esset tibi hostia viva, hostia sancta, in odorem suavitatis accensa. O gloriosi certaminis virtus! O inconcussa mentis constantia! Stridunt membra viventis super craticulam imposita, et prunis sævientibus anhelantis; ut et tibi hostia fieret, et ad martyrii triumphum intrepidus perveniret. Per Christum…

Truly it is worthy… who on this day didst make proof of the golden faith of Thy Levite Lawrence with a most ardent fire, that he might be a living and holy victim, burnt unto the odor of sweetness. Oh, the might of his glorious contest! Oh, the unshaken constancy of his mind! His members, laid on the grill, groan, as he still lives and breathes while the fires rage; that he might both become a sacrifice unto Thee, and fearlessly arrive at the triumph of martyrdom. Through Christ…

The Martyrdom of Saint Lawrence, by Titian, 1567, in the Spanish Royal Monastery of the Escorial.

The Spanish poet Prudentius (348 – 405/13 ca.) was a contemporary of Ambrose, and had a similar secular career: training in rhetoric and law, and service as a provincial governor. In later life, he withdrew from public service and became an ascetic, but was never a cleric. One of his most famous works is a collection of fourteen poems “On the crowns (of the martyrs)”, including several Romans, Lawrence among them.

A number of passages from this work are included in the Mozarabic Divine Office, which is often astonishingly prolix. For example, on the feast of the great martyr St Vincent of Saragossa, the hymn at Lauds has 292 lines (73 stanzas) excerpted from the 576 which Prudentius dedicates to him. For St Lawrence, however, a judicious selection of verses was made (and largely rewritten) to create a hymn of classically Roman restraint, with only five stanzas, including the doxology. (I have taken this English version from the website of Mr Matthew Carver, who kindly licenses all his translations as Creative Commons. CC BY-NC 3.0 US)

http://matthaeusglyptes.blogspot.com/2015/05/en-martyris-laurentii.html

En Martyris Laurentii Armata pugnavit fides, Nam morte mortem diruit, Ac semet impendit sibi.	BEHOLD, of Lawrence, martyr famed, What faith, well-armed, hath led the host! By death o’er death the crown he claimed And gave himself to th’ uttermost.
Fore hoc sacerdos dixerat Jam Sixtus affixus cruci, Laurentium flentem videns Crucis sub ipso stipite.	Twas as his bishop Sixtus said As fastened to the cross he hung, When seeing Lawrence weep with dread Beneath his cross whereat he clung:
Desiste discessu meo Fletum dolenter fundere, Praecedo frater, tu quoque Post hoc sequeris triduum.	“Forbear at my departure now To shed thy tears so grievously; Though, brother, I go first, yet thou Shalt three days hence my foll’wer be.”
Extrema vox Episcopi Praenuntiatrix gloriae, Nihil fefellit: nam dies Praedicta palmam praestitit	What lastly did the bishop say Prophetic voice of glorious heav’n In naught deceived, for on the day That he foretold, the palm was giv’n.
Gloria Patri ingenito, Gloria unigenito Una cum sancto Spiritu In sempiterna saecula. Amen..	To th’ unbegotten Father praise, And to the sole begotten Son And Holy Ghost for endless days, One God, for evermore be done.

The outlandish prolixity of the Mozarabic liturgy is frequently displayed in the Mass as well. Its ancient preface for the feast of St Lawrence is over 400 words long, and retells the story not only of Lawrence himself, but also of St Sixtus II, the Pope whom he served as deacon, and of St Hippolytus, the soldier and guard whom he converted, and who was also martyred for the Faith. Here is an excerpt, which is based on the same passage of St Ambrose’s De Officiis (39) that provides the text for several parts of the Roman Office of St Lawrence. (This preface is written in a highly elaborate rhetorical style which does not lend itself easily to literal translation.)

The preface (“illatio” in Mozarabic terminology) of the Mass of St Lawrence in a Mozarabic Missal printed in 1804, starting in the upper part of the 2nd column.

Quique Apostolorum choro donatus, filium generosae mentis Laurentium exspectabat: quia sine eo proprii sanguinis victimam offerre nolebat, cui cuncta mysteriorum ministeria transigenda commiserat. Qui cum de sua remansione patri querulus exstitisset, ab eodem flere prohibitus, quod post tres dies sequeretur audivit: nec debere de sua desertione causari praemonuit, quoniam ei gloriosior diabolo seuiente inrisoque tyranno triumphus maneret. Martyrum tuorum, Christe, infatigabilis fortitudo!

And (Sixtus), having been given as a gift to the choir of the Apostles (i.e. in heaven), awaited his generous-minded son Lawrence, because he did not want to offer the sacrifice of his own blood without him to whom he had entrusted the celebration of all services in the (holy) mysteries. And when the latter complained to his father about remaining behind, he was forbidden by him to weep, since he heard that after three days he would follow; and (Sixtus) foretold that he ought not to complain of his being left, since a more glorious triumph awaited him over the raging devil and the tyrant whom he would mock. Oh, the tireless fortitude of Thy martyrs, o Christ!

The words “to whom he entrusted the celebration of all services in the holy mysteries” refers to the custom by which the administration of the chalice was especially entrusted to deacons. In his account of their martyrdom in the De Officiis, St Ambrose has Lawrence say to Sixtus, “ ‘Whither, holy priest, dost thou hasten without thy deacon? … Dost thou deny a share in thy blood to one to whom thou didst entrust the consecration of the Lord’s blood, and a share in the celebration of the sacraments?’ To this Sixtus replied, ‘I do not leave or abandon thee, son, but greater contests await thee. We, as elder men, receive the way of an easier combat; a more glorious triumph against the tyrant awaiteth thee as a younger man. Soon shalt thou come after, cease weeping; after three days shalt thou follow me, as levite followeth priest.”

St Sixtus Bids St Lawrence Farewell, 1465 ca., by the German (Südtiroler) painter Michael Pacher (1435-98). Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

St Romanus the Martyr

In the Roman Breviary of 1481, the following account is given of St Romanus, a solder who was converted by seeing the constancy of St Lawrence in his torments. His feast is kept today.

At Rome, the birth of St Romanus, a soldier who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ through the words of St Lawrence, and said to (him), “I see before thee a most fair youth, standing with a linen cloth, and wiping thy limbs; wherefore, I adjure thee through Christ, who sent His angel to thee, do not leave me.” Then Decius, being full of wrath and deceit, said to Valerian, “I think we have been beaten by magical art.” And he ordered the blessed Lawrence to be removed from the grill. At that very hour, the blessed Romanus came bearing a vessel of water, falling at the feet of blessed Lawrence, with tears asked him that he might be baptized. And (Lawrence) took the water, blessed it and baptized him. Now Decius on hearing this said, “Strip him, and beat him with clubs.” And blessed Romanus, being brought before Decius Caesar, without being asked, began to cry out in a clear voice, saying “I am a Christian.” And Decius Caesar ordered him in that very hour to be executed; so he was brought outside the walls at the Salarian gate and beheaded on the ninth of August. Then the priest Justin came at night, and collected the body of the blessed martyr Romanus, and buried him in a crypt in the Ager Veranus.

St Romanus before the Blessed Trinity; in the lower left corner, he is seen standing outside the prison where St Lawrence is held, carrying a water vessel. From the high altar of the church dedicated to him in the town of Schweighausen in western Germany. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Jörgens.mi, CC BY-SA 3.0.)

The Church of Ss Peter and Paul in Biasca, Switzerland (Part 2)

Last week, we published Nicola’s pictures of the interior of the church of Ss Peter and Paul in Biasca, a town in Canton Ticino, Switzerland, which has been part of the territory of the Ambrosian Rite since at least the 6th century. As a follow-up, here are some pictures of the exterior, very much in the Romanesque style of its period, the second half of the twelfth century. At the end are some pieces of sculpture which are, to be honest, nowhere near as impressive as the extensive surviving fresco work which we saw in the first part. 

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Uncomfortable Comparisons? Fr. Barthe on the Traditional and New Sacramental Rites

In 1969, A Short Critical Study of the Novus Ordo Missae was published with the signatures of two powerful cardinals, Bacci and Ottaviani. Nicknamed The Ottaviani Intervention, it quickly become a classic, and has never gone out of print. But... where was its companion volume? You know, the one about the other six sacraments?

For, indeed, the reform of the Mass was accompanied by a profound overhaul of all the other sacraments – baptism, confirmation, marriage, holy orders, penance, and extreme unction (the last two renamed reconciliation and the anointing of the sick). And the changes to these were no less profound, no less meaningful, no less consequential.

Understandably, debates about liturgical reform have coalesced around the new missal for decades, since the Eucharistic rite touches the lives of Catholics more than any other. Yet if the new rite of the Mass deserves criticism for its diminished signification of the Church’s faith, the same holds for the new rituals of the sacraments, which were produced according to the same assumptions and principles.

Esteemed liturgical theologian Fr. Claude Barthe confronts this question in his short but potent work, The Seven Sacraments, Past and Present: A Short Critical Study of the New Rituals. Fr. Barthe takes up particular points of comparison between the old and new rituals, looking to the matter and the form (the elements used, the words spoken) as well as the ceremonies surrounding them. Did the effort to “adapt the rites for modern man” end up diluting and dissipating the very faith they were supposed to express more effectively?

In this well-documented book, Fr. Barthe helps readers to see why a coherent defense and practice of tradition must reach beyond the Mass to embrace all of the Church’s rites – at a time when some are seeking to rule out the very possibility of doing so. The Roman Rite, he explains, is a unified world of prayer, and its components should not be arbitrarily divorced. If the traditional Mass deserves to be honored and prayed in our churches, the traditional form of each and every sacrament should be given no less honor and be no less readily available.

Perhaps in time, this book, too, will become famous, and people will start speaking of The Barthe Intervention!

 

Be that as it may, Os Justi Press is proud to present its English edition to the world. I encourage tradition-loving Catholics to take up this brisk and battling book. Find out why it caused a firestorm upon its 2025 publication in France. Consider gifting it to priests you know who love the Mass of the Ages but may not yet fully understand how it is integrated harmoniously into the larger whole of the Roman Rite.

Here’s what a few readers had to say about the manuscript:

“The rites for the administration of all the sacraments underwent substantial revisions following the Second Vatican Council. Fr. Barthe argues that these changes were by and large for the worse. The Seven Sacraments is a valuable resource that joins other works of ‘loyal dissent’ such as the ‘Ottaviani Intervention.’” – Dr. Michael P. Foley, Baylor University

“Wherever one looks in the older Roman liturgical rites, one finds a form of worship that embodies the fullness of Catholic doctrine more explicitly, more robustly, and more impressively than its ‘reformed’ counterpart. Instructive, yet accessible to non-specialists, this study is an important contribution to the growing body of critical literature concerning twentieth-century liturgical reform in the Western Catholic Church.” – Fr. Thomas M. Kocik, author of Reform of the Reform?: A Liturgical Debate

“Fr. Barthe has done the Church a great service by placing, side-by-side, ‘Before’ and ‘After’ snapshots of the seven sacraments (and funeral rites). The similarities and differences between the usus recentior and the usus antiquior are apparent.” – Fr. Robert McTeigue, S.J., host of The Catholic Current

Available in paperback, hardcover, and ebook, from the publisher or from any Amazon site.

Review of Cosima Clara Gillhammer’s Light on Darkness: The Untold Story of the Liturgy

In his book The Restoration of Christian Culture, John Senior writes:

Whatever we do in the political and social order, the indispensable foundation is prayer, the heart of which is the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the perfect prayer of Christ himself, Priest and Victim, recreating in an unbloody manner the bloody, selfsame Sacrifice of Calvary. What is Christian Culture? It is essentially the Mass. That is not my or anyone’s opinion or theory or wish but the central fact of two thousand years of history. Christendom, what secularists call Western Civilization, is the Mass and paraphernalia which protect and facilitate it.

Senior goes on to describe the Mass as emanating outwards to all aspects of life. What is done on a stone altar inspires the construction of a beautiful church. The church inspires a garden and clerics to tend the church and the people who flock to it. Next to the church and the garden a cemetery is made for those who died as faithful servants of what is done on that altar; and around the church-grounds people build their houses and sow their fields, until a community is formed. That community needs laws, and the laws cannot help but be influenced by the sense of justice that radiates from the center of its citizens’ lives. And before you know it, you have a Christian world built around the Mass.

The most recent attempt to uncover that world is Cosima Clara Gillhammer’s Light on Darkness: The Untold Story of the Liturgy. Gillhammer contends that the liturgy of the medieval Christian West exerted a greater impact on art and culture than is generally appreciated. “The liturgy forms the fabric of Western creative imagination,” she writes. “It provides the very images, words and concepts with which we think and tell stories” (253). To substantiate her claims, the author organizes her chapters based on different themes: Petition (the Psalms), Love (the Song of Solomon and the Blessed Virgin Mary), Hope (Advent), Suffering (Holy Week), Grief (the Stabat Mater), Joy (the Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday), Death (the Dies Irae), Revelation (the Apocalypse), Time (liturgical seasons), and Space (Holy Week).

Light on Darkness does not presuppose any knowledge of the Catholic Faith: on the contrary, it sometimes reads like a Dummies’ Guide to Christianity. One chapter, for example, walks the reader through the Creed before proceeding further. Clearly, the intended audience is not limited to Catholics but seeks to persuade a broader demographic of the liturgy’s impact on Western culture.

Not all of Gillhammer’s genealogies are equally persuasive or relevant. It is true that (the Protestant) George Herbert’s poems communicate a “union with God in terms of a banquet,” but there is no evidence that he developed this idea thanks to Catholic liturgy rather than a direct reading of the Sacred Scriptures. And although I loved Gillhammer’s explanation of liturgical time as an example of Kairos (the time when God acts) rather than Chronos (mere sequential time), she does not explain in what ways the Kairos of the Roman rite changed the West or its culture.

The book also contains a few errors. A sentence on page 39 gives the impression that Psalm 51(50) was recited every day of the year during Lauds, but it was not said on feast days, which were many. The suppression of the Alleluia does not occur at the beginning of Lent (in the traditional calendar) but at the beginning of pre-Lent or Septuagesimatide. And in her discussion of liturgical time, Gillhammer conflates the idea that time is relative with the idea that time is subjective. What Einstein meant by his general and specific theories of relativity is not the same as my experiencing a one-hour department meeting as lasting an eternity.

Nevertheless, Light on Darkness abounds in fascinating facts. Did you know that:

The haunting sequence Dies Irae in the Requiem Mass is the “most frequently cited musical motif” in the history of Western music (187). In film alone, it has appeared in The Exorcist (1973), Jaws (1975), Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope (1977), Mad Max (1979), The Shining (1980), The Lion King (1994), Mulan (1998), X2 (2003), The Return of the King from The Lord of the Rings trilogy (2005), and Watchmen (2009).

The liturgical application of (seemingly racy) passages from the Song of Songs to the Blessed Virgin Mary created a new way of thinking about love. “What engagement with the Song of Songs achieves is not so much an avoidance of erotic language and sexual subject matter,” Gillhammer writes, “as a deliberate and creative use of such language in engaging with religious matters” (53). The author goes on to describe the impact of this new approach from the secular poetry of the Middle Ages and Renaissance to the poems of Walt Whitman.

The Impropreria or Reproaches in the Good Friday service generated a new genre of English literature in which the fallen nature of man dialogues with the goodness of God.

The concept of felix culpa (O happy fault) in the Easter Vigil proclamation the Exsultet has found its way into artistic expression, from Middle English to James Joyce.

The beautiful sequence Stabat Mater for the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows went on to inspire artists to think of new ways of envisioning compassion, from Michelangelo’s Pieta to the Pieta of Kathe Kollwitz (d. 1945).

The celebration of the Resurrection in the liturgy led to the resurrection of the theatre in the Christian West, from biblical dramas on Easter (and Passion Plays on Good Friday) to Corpus Christi plays to “mystery plays” to the works of William Shakespeare. Hamlet is much more liturgical than you think.

Despite a few hiccups, Light on Darkness is an engaging and worthwhile read. Among its many virtues is its refutation of the myth that Catholic Christians were disconnected from the liturgical life of the Church because they were denied so-called “active participation.” The book convincingly demonstrates that liturgy was in the very air that our medieval and Renaissance forebears breathed and that the results of this insufflation are beautiful. John Senior would be pleased, I think, with Gilhammer’s explication of the central fact of two thousand years of history.

This review appeared in The Latin Mass magazine 35:2 (Summer 2026), pp. 56-57. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

Note

[1] The Restoration of Christian Culture (Ignatius Press, 1983; reprinted, Roman Catholic Books), 16-17.

Solar Horarium, Organ Improvisation, Homeschool Music Curriculum, Sarum Rite, Aesthetics - Find It All in Season 8 of Square Notes

As the summer winds down, catch up with the latest (eighth!) season of Square Notes: The Sacred Music Podcast! The show is on its annual summer hiatus because of the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music’s summer graduate program; season nine will launch in the fall with new episodes. The timeless topics of the past season are well worth the time, whether you’re a church musician, casual appreciator of sacred music, or a Catholic who just wants to know more about the Church’s perspective on sacred music. The podcast is distributed via all major podcast platforms, including Apple Podcasts, YouTube, Spotify, Amazon Music, Audible, and Podbean.

Here’s a list of this past season’s topics and guests:

• Episode 1 – Building a Beautiful Homeschool Curriculum for Art and Music – with Elizabeth Lemme
• Episode 2 – From Puebla Cathedral to Today’s Spanish-Speaking Pews: The Legacy of Juan Gutiérrez de Padilla – with Fernando Gil
• Episode 3 – The Art of Organ Improvisation: Insights from Martin Baker
• Episode 4 – From Chant to Counterpoint: How to Improvise Polyphony – with Dr. Charles Weaver
• Episode 5 – Lenten Reflection for Church Musicians – with Archbishop Salvatore J. Cordileone
• Episode 6 – What Did American Sacred Music Sound Like in the 19th & Early 20th Centuries? A Snapshot from St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York – with Salvatore Basile
• Episode 7 – Developing Great Vocal Technique for Singing Chant – with Dr. Rosemary Heredos
• Episode 8 – Chant Accompaniment, Organ Building, & Fundraising for Organ Projects – with Chris Berry
• Episode 9 – Is Beauty a Transcendental, Why Beauty Matters, and Can We Be Wrong About Beauty? Philosophical Questions Every Church Musician Should Consider with Dr. Margaret Hughes
• Episode 10 – All About Sarum: Ceremonial, Chant, Sources, and Processions from Medieval England – with Dr. Christopher Hodkinson
• Episode 11 – Learning & Living Gregorian Chant as a Monk – with Fr. Mark Bachmann, OSB, Choirmaster of Clear Creek Abbey
• Episode 12 – Caring for Temples of the Holy Spirit: The Busy Church Musician’s Guide to Nutrition, Health, and the Immune System – with Dr. Lizbeth Alter
• Episode 13 – A Masterclass in the Magisterial Compositions and Style of Palestrina – with Thomas Neal
• Episode 14 – Conflict Resolution, Work-Life Balance, and Avoiding Burnout As a Church Musician – with Angela Rosson
• Episode 15 – The Solar Horarium & Monastic Fast According to the Rule of St. Benedict, Plus Praying the Chant & Making Beer – with Fr. Augustine Wilmeth, OSB, Prior at the Benedictine Abbey in Norcia

Raphael’s Transfiguration of Christ

When Raphael was commissioned to paint the Transfiguration of Christ in 1515, the feast commemorating this event in the Lord’s life was still a new one in much of Western Europe. Although it had been kept in some places much earlier, it was given to the universal Church only in the reign of Pope Callixtus III (1455-58), in thanksgiving for the Christian victory against the Turks at the siege of Belgrade on August 6th, 1456. Coming only three years after the fall of Constantinople, this victory signaled an important halt to the Turkish invasion of Europe; in fact, the common custom of ringing church bells at noon began as a reminder to pray for the defense of this bulwark of Christendom.

In the Byzantine tradition, on the other hand, the feast is much older, and one of the Twelve Great Feasts commemorating the principal events of the life of Our Lord and His Mother. It is kept forty days before another of the Great Feasts, the Exaltation of the Cross, a custom based on the teaching of the Church Fathers that the purpose of the Transfiguration was to strengthen the faith of the Apostles in preparation for the Our Lord’s Passion. Long before the adoption of the feast in the West, this aspect of the tradition was also known to the Roman Rite, which reads St. Matthew’s account of the Transfiguration on both the Ember Saturday of Lent and the following Sunday.

The Transfiguration, in the apse mosaic of the monastery church of St. Catherine on Mt Sinai, ca. 565.

The painting was commissioned by Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici, the cousin of Pope Leo X, who had just been made archbishop of the French city of Narbonne. In accordance with a common abuse of the era, the cardinal had no intention of taking possession of the see to govern it personally, being as he was also the chancellor of the church in Rome; instead, he would have paid a vicar to fulfill the duties of bishop, while drawing the revenues of the see. (In the 10 years between his cousin’s election as Pope in 1513 and his own election as Clement VII, Giulio de’ Medici held ten different sees under various titles, five of them before his priestly ordination.)

Within a few decades, this abuse was completely extirpated by the Council of Trent and the Counter-Reformation; one must not imagine, however, that all the beneficiaries of it were entirely neglectful of their sees and abbeys. Cardinal de’ Medici commissioned the painting for the high altar of Narbonne’s cathedral, and would certainly have paid the artist a handsome sum for it. In the reign of a Pope whose family had been leading patrons of the Renaissance for generations, in a city filled with every kind of artist, Raphael stood head and shoulders above all of his contemporaries. His only equal in prominence, Michelangelo, had left Rome in 1513 shortly after the election of Pope Leo; in 1516, Raphael was made superintendent of Pontifical works, a job in which he could command his own prices, choosing for himself a few outstanding commissions, and leaving the rest in the hands of an army of assistants and apprentices.

The cathedral of Narbonne, dedicated to Ss Justus and Pastor. Their feast day is August 6th, the same as that of the Transfiguration, which was kept on the following day in the city itself; Raphael’s painting shows the two on the upper left side as witnesses of the Lord’s Transfiguration.

As I have noted before, in an age in which imitation was considered the very essence of art, which is to say, the imitation of the classical past, no-one had a keener eye for seeing what was good about the styles of other artists, taking it into his own, and improving upon it. In this painting, the last work of Raphael, one sees not merely the mastery of technique, but the perfect union at every point of technique to story. While certainly concerned to demonstrate his skill and versatility, especially in light of Michelangelo’s very recent triumph in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, each technical feature of the painting serves to communicate the Biblical story and theological idea behind it.

In Lent and on the feast in August, the Roman Rite reads the story of the Transfiguration from chapter 17 of St Matthew. However, in the upper part of the painting, Raphael has taken account also the words of St Luke that “the appearance of (Christ’s) countenance was altered,” (chap. 9, 29), as it will also be after the Resurrection. (Mark 16, 12 and Luke 24, 16.) The Lord’s face is painted in a style very similar to that of one of Raphael’s early teachers, Perugino, a style greatly admired in the later 15th and early 16th centuries, and considered a kind of idealized facial type. Thus, as Christ reveals himself to be the perfect man, the man who is also God, he is represented with a “perfect” face. The rest of the figures are painted in a variety of styles, with a much more realistic range of facial types, reminiscent of various predecessors and contemporaries of Raphael, a great demonstration of his extraordinary versatility.

Christ in the Transfiguration of Raphael.

The upper part of the Oddi altarpiece, which Raphael painted 15 years earlier. Note the similarity in the faces, all of which are reminiscent of the idealized facial type typical of Perugino.

The painting is also marked by three different major lighting schemes. In the upper part, the light of the transfigured Christ shines onto the clouds behind him, and back at us, while also illuminating the figures around Him, the Prophets Moses and Elijah, and the Apostles Peter, James and John. Through them, the divinity of Christ is revealed to us; thus the light of His divinity coming out at the viewer is not merely a special effect for its own sake, but helps to convey the meaning of the Biblical narrative. The lower part represents the next episode in the Synoptic Gospels, the healing of a possessed child. The very ancient date of the Exaltation of the Cross determines not only the day of the Transfiguration, but also that of the Ember Wednesday of September, always the Wednesday after it, on which the Church reads this episode in the words of St Mark.

And one of the multitude, answering, said: Master, I have brought my son to thee, having a dumb spirit. Who, wheresoever he taketh him, dasheth him, and he foameth, and gnasheth with the teeth, and pineth away; and I spoke to thy disciples to cast him out, and they could not. … And He asked his father: How long time is it since this hath happened unto him? But he said: From his infancy: And oftentimes hath he cast him into the fire and into waters to destroy him. But if thou canst do anything, help us, having compassion on us. And Jesus saith to him: If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. And immediately the father of the boy crying out, with tears said: I do believe, Lord: help my unbelief. And when Jesus saw the multitude running together, he threatened the unclean spirit, saying to him: Deaf and dumb spirit, I command thee, go out of him; and enter not any more into him. And crying out, and greatly tearing him, he went out of him, and he became as dead, so that many said: He is dead. But Jesus taking him by the hand, lifted him up; and he arose. (Mark 9, 16-17 and 20-26)

The light enters the scene from the left and above, brightly illuminating the figures on the right, but leaving those on the left wrapped up in a mysterious dark mist. The former lighting scheme is based on the style of portraits done by Florentines, the latter scheme is that of the Venetians, another demonstration of the artist’s mastery of a variety of styles.

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Communion in the Hand: Ancient Norm, Humanist Myth, or Protestant Rebellion?

NLM is once again grateful to Zsolt Orbán for sharing the fruits of his extensive research with us.

Reflecting on the “evolution” of Eucharistic reverence, Pope Benedict XVI noted,

Here again we know that until the ninth century Communion was received in the hand, standing. That does not of course mean that it should always be so. For what is fine, sublime, about the Church is that she is growing, maturing, understanding the mystery more profoundly. In that sense the new development that began after the ninth century is quite justified, as an expression of reverence, and is well-founded. But, on the other hand, we have to say that the Church could not possibly have been celebrating the Eucharist unworthily for nine hundred years. [1]

This quotation condenses the fundamental theoretical issues surrounding the practice of Communion in the hand, the very problems this article addresses, among which the most vital question is: do we really know this for a fact? Was there truly no Communion on the tongue until the ninth century? Was its emergence merely the result of a new development, while the standard norm across the entire Church had been for lay faithful to receive the Blessed Sacrament in their hands?

I doubt that this was actually the case, for two primary reasons.

The first reason, the true argument, is one that proponents of Communion in the hand generally fail to grasp. Because they implicitly or explicitly assume that unfolding the essence of Church doctrine, and thus understanding the true nature of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, required time for a certain “development” to take place, during which entirely new elements emerged. In reality, they do not believe that the Church understood the meaning of the Eucharistic Sacrifice and the Blessed Sacrament from the very first moment, and approached it accordingly from the very beginning.

Yet, because the Apostles understood the Mass from day one, they understood it to mean exactly what the Church would later teach about it. They also understood the priesthood itself. Consequently, from the very dawn of the Church, a distinction existed between the ordained and the laity, not only in the administration of the sacraments in general, but also in matters concerning the Most Holy, namely, the handling of the Blessed Sacrament. Therefore, I doubt that the touching of the Blessed Sacrament by unordained faithful could ever have been the norm, rather than a deviation from it; in other words, that it was a legally permitted default practice.

According to current scholarly consensus, the section of the Liber Pontificalis that attributes the prohibition of laymen touching the sacred vessels to Pope Sixtus I is a sixth-century compilation (dating to around 530). Even if this is true, the fact that such a decree could be compiled around 530 from earlier texts – and, moreover, that it carried authority – inherently proves that a widespread and normative practice of Communion in the hand is an impossibility. A regulation that ran directly counter to theological and liturgical evidence and practice could never have emerged at the very heart of the Holy Mother Church.

Furthermore, if in the first half of the sixth century a pope, or a decree circulated under papal authority, forbade the laity from even touching the sacred vessels, how reasonable is it to assume that this same prohibition did not apply to the contents of those vessels? Why would anyone consider the vessels holier than what they contained? This is especially true given the beautifully resonant reasoning the author of the decree attached to it:

It has been decreed by us, the other bishops, and the rest of the Lord’s priests, that the sacred vessels are not to be touched by anyone other than men consecrated and dedicated to the Lord. For it is exceedingly unworthy that the Lord’s sacred vessels, whatever they may be, should serve human use and be handled by anyone other than men who serve the Lord and are consecrated to Him; lest the Lord, being offended by such audacities, strike His people with a plague. [2]

And how far we still are at this point from the ninth century, when the “novelty” of Communion on the tongue supposedly appeared!

The second reason exposing the flaw in the narrative of a normative and universally permitted Communion in the hand is the surprising lack of sources supporting it. I call it surprising because, due to the sheer volume of repetitive arguments used by proponents of this narrative, the sheer number of their supposedly clear patristic references can seem convincing. However, this illusion lasts only until one takes the trouble to verify their citations. It then becomes clear that these quotations are not about what they claim, and fail to prove their vehement assertions. Despite the notion that has prevailed since the rise of Humanism and the Reformation, we have only a few sources, and those dubious in either authorship or meaning, which show that the Church permitted the taking of the Blessed Sacrament home exclusively in times of emergency. Yet, contrary to the presuppositions of the narrative, even these sources do not bear witness to the laity actually touching the Blessed Sacrament with their hands.

James Tissot’s envisioning of Communion being given at the first Mass to the kneeling apostles; note the suggestion of Peter and John serving as something like deacon and subdeacon.

When examining the patristic quotations used to ground the Communion-in-the-hand narrative, we encounter several highly typical errors.

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The Sequence of St Dominic

For the feast of St Dominic, here is a very nice recording of In caelesti hierarchia, the Sequence for his Mass in the Dominican Missal. Dominic was, of course, the very first Saint of his order to be canonized; this was done in 1234 by Pope Gregory IX (1227-41), who had known him personally, and declared that he no more doubted his sanctity than he did that of Saints Peter and Paul. The author of the Sequence is unknown; it is attested in Dominican liturgical sources that predate the codification of their Use which took place in the mid-1250s, and still forms the basis of it to this day. 

In caelesti hierarchia, nova sonet harmonia, novo ducta cantico: Cui concordet in hac via, nostri chori melodia, congaudens Dominico. Ex Aegypto vastitatis, virum suae voluntatis vocat Auctor saeculi, In fiscella paupertatis, flumen transit vanitatis, pro salute populi. In figura catuli, praedicator saeculi matri praemonstratur; Portans ore faculam, ad amoris regulam populos hortatur. Hic est novus legislator, hic Elias aemulator, et detestans crimina. Vulpes dissipat Samsonis, et in tuba Gedeonis, hostis fugat agmina. A defunctis revocatum, matri vivum reddit natum, vivens adhuc corpore: Signo crucis imber cedit; turba fratrum panem edit, missum Dei munere. Felix, per quem gaudia tota jam ecclesia sumens exaltatur. Orbem replet semine, in caelorum agmine tandem collocatur. Jacet granum occultatum, sidus latet obumbratum: sed Plasmator omnium, Ossa Joseph pullulare, sidus jubet radiare, in salutem gentium. O quam probat carnis florem, omnem superans odorem, tumuli fragrantia! Aegri currunt, et curantur, caeci, claudi reparantur, virtutum frequentia. Laudes ergo Dominico personemus mirifico, voce plena: Clama petens suffragia, ejus sequens vestigia plebs egena. Sed tu pater pie, bone, pastor gregis, et patrone, prece semper sedula, Apud curiam summi Regis, derelicti vices gregis commenda per saeculi. Amen.    Alleluia.

Now new canticles ascending, And new strains harmonious blending, ’Mid the hierarchies of heaven: With our earthly choirs according, Join this festival in lauding, To our holy father given. For the welfare of the nations, Called from Egypt’s desolations By their God and Maker, he Was the chosen one and glorious, Passing o’er the wave victorious, In the ark of poverty. Ere his birth, the preacher brother Is prefigured to his mother By a hound with torch of fire; So her son, his torch-light bearing, Midst the nations dark appearing, Leads them on with full desire. He, another Moses, teacheth, And Elias-like he preacheth, Sin denouncing with his might Samson-like his foxes sending, And the foe his trumpet rending, Gedeon-like he put to flight. From death’s sleep a child he waketh Whom alive his mother taketh: When the holy sign he makes, Cease the floods; and bread from heaven For his fainting sons is given Which into their hands he breaks. Happy he, whose elevation, Is our mother’s exa1tation, Is her joy and weal indeed. To his home by saints attended, Hath his soul for aye ascended, Having filled the earth with seed. Like the hidden grain he bideth Like the clouded star he hideth: But the Maker of the spheres, Joseph’s dry bones readorning, Will reveal the star of morning, Till earth’s darkness disappears. O surpassing fragrance, telling Of the virtues of that dwelling, Which within the tomb doth lie! Thither flock the sick for healing, Blind and lame the grace revealing That his body lives for aye. Wherefore now with jubilation Bless and praise him, every nation, Cry aloud, and crave his care: Sing Dominic the glorious, Sing Dominic victorious, Claim his help and promised prayer. And thou, father, kind and loving, Shepherd, patron, unreproving, Kneeling heaven’s high throne before, Lift for us thy voice prevailing, To our King with prayers availing Evermore and evermore. Amen.    Alleluia.