This post is something of a follow-up to one I made last week about a chasuble decorated with images of the events surrounding the martyrdom of St Stanislaus, bishop of Krakow, Poland. These pictures come from a friend, Mr Anatole Upart, who recently visited the museum of the archdiocese of Warsaw, and very kindly shared with us these pictures of its very impressive collection of liturgical vestments. A number of these are decorated with the same kind of thickly embroidered images of saints and angels, albeit not at the same level of detail as the Stanislaus vestment. (And it has to be said that one of them is rather cartoonish in appearance.) There aren’t many didactic panels, so I will leave most of them without comment, but from what I know of the style, I believe the majority of these come from the 17th and 18th centuries. Most of these are white; a second post will have more of the other liturgical colors.
A chalice veil decorated with an image of Casimir, prince of the kingdom of Poland and grand duchy of Lithuania (1458-84), and is venerated a patron Saint of both nations.
In Ireland, today is the feast of a sainted monk named Brendan, who is traditionally said to have been born in Clonfert in the year 484, and to have died in 577 at the age of 94. He is sometimes called “the Younger” to distinguish him from another Brendan, of Birr, or “the Elder.” They were both disciples of St Finnian, the founder of one of the first abbeys in the country, Clonard, and belong to the group known as the Twelve Apostles of Ireland for their labors in the evangelizing the Emerald Isle. As with many of the early Irish Saints, the traditional stories of his life are regarded as historically unreliable. The most famous of these is that he and a group of companions sailed out into the Atlantic Ocean searched for “the Promised Land of the Saints,” or the Garden of Eden, and has given him the nickname by which he is more generally known, “the Navigator.” The account of the ensuing adventures, known as “The Voyage of St Brendan”, was very popular, and over 100 manuscripts of it survive.
The Voyage of St Brendan, 1908, by the British painter Edward Reginald Frampton (1870-1923). This depicts another rather improbable episode in the story of St Brendan’s travels, in which he encounters Judas Iscariot on a deserted island, and the latter explains to him that on Sundays and major feast days, he is granted a temporary reprieve from the torments of hell. (Public domainimage from Wikimedia Commons.)
One of the stories in this account (chapter 10 and 11) involves a stop on an island which turns out to be a very unusual place indeed.
“… Now that island was rocky, and without any grass; there was a thin forest there, and no sand on the shore. But as the brothers passed the night in prayers and vigils off the ship, the man of God (i.e. Brendan) remained within it.
… In the morning, he commanded the priests that they should each sing Mass, and so they did. Therefore, when Saint Brendan himself had sung Mass in the ship, the brothers began to bring raw meat out of the ship to cure it with salt, and also the fish which they had brought with them from the other island. When they had done these things, they set a pot upon a fire, and when they had added wood to the fire and the pot began to grow hot, the island began to move itself like a wave. But the brothers began to run to the ship praying for the holy father’s protection. But he drew each one of them in by the hand, and leaving behind all of the things which they had brought onto that island, they began to sail.
Now the island was being carried out into the ocean … and Saint Brendan explained to the brothers what this was, saying, “Brothers, are you astonished at what this island did?” They said, “We are very much astonished, and the greatest fear has taken hold of us.” And he said to them, “My sons, do not be afraid, for God has revealed to me this night through a vision the mystery of this matter. It was not an island where we were, but a fish. Greater than all the things that swim in the ocean, it is always looking for its own tail so that it may join it to its head, and it cannot because it is so long, and its name is Jasconius.”
St Brendan watches from the boat as one of the priests in his group of travel companions says Mass on the back of the sea monster. (Engraving by Honorius Philoponus, 1621)
Having praised the writings of Fr. Francis X. Weiser in two previous posts (here and here), I thought it meet to share the following excerpt from his magnum opus, the Handbook of Christian Feasts and Customs (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1958), pp. 243-45.
Ascension Plays
During the tenth century some dramatic details
were added to the liturgical procession on Ascension Day in the
countries of central and western Europe.
In Germany it became a
custom for priests to lift a cross aloft when the words Assumptus est in caelum (He was taken up into Heaven) were sung
at the Gospel.
From the eleventh century on, the procession was gradually
dropped in most countries and in its place a pageant was
performed in church. These “Ascension plays” have never been
accorded official approval or liturgical status by the Roman
authorities.
By the thirteenth century it had become a fairly general custom
to enact the Ascension by hoisting a statue of the Risen Christ
aloft until it disappeared through an opening in the ceiling of
the church. While the image, suspended on a rope, moved slowly
upward, the people rose in their pews and stretched out their
arms toward the figure of the Saviour, acclaiming the Lord in
prayer or by hymn singing. Hundreds of reports in old books from
the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries contain vivid
descriptions of this ancient custom.
One of the most charming examples is the Ascension play of the
Bavarian monastery in Moosburg, recorded by the priest and poet
Johann von Berghausen (1362). In the center of the church,
directly underneath an opening in the ceiling, a platform
decorated with colored cloths and flowers was erected. On this
platform stood a little tent, open at the top, which represented
the Mount of Olivet. Inside the tent was placed a statue of the
Risen Christ, holding high the banner of victory. A strong rope
that hung down from the ceiling was fastened to a ring on top of
the wooden image. After Vespers (in the afternoon), a solemn
procession moved from the sacristy to the platform. It was led by
two boys in white dresses. They impersonated angels; on their
shoulders they wore wings and on their heads little wreaths of
flowers. They were followed by a young cleric who represented the
Blessed Virgin, “dressed in the robes of holy and honorable
widowhood.” To his right and left walked clerics enacting Saint
Peter and Saint John. Behind them came ten other clerics in
Oriental gowns; they were barefoot, and on their foreheads they
carried diadems inscribed with the names of the Apostles. The
altar boys and priests, vested in festive garb, concluded the
group. In front of the platform, the deacon sang the Gospel of
Ascension Day, and the choir intoned the antiphon, “I ascend to
my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (John 20, 17).
The priests then venerated the image of Christ with inclinations
and incense. Finally, while the choir sang Ascendit Deus in
altum, alleluia (God rose on high), the statue was slowly pulled
aloft. As it rose higher and higher, a few figures of angels
holding burning candles came down from “Heaven” to meet the Lord
and to accompany him on his journey. From a large metal ring that
was suspended below the opening, there hung cloths of silk
representing clouds. Between these “clouds” the image of the
Saviour slowly and solemnly disappeared. A few moments later, a
shower of roses, lilies, and other flowers dropped from the
opening; then followed wafers in the shape of large hosts. The
schoolchildren were allowed to collect these flowers and wafers,
to take them home as cherished souvenirs. Father Berghausen
explains this custom as follows: “The little ones collect the
flowers which symbolize the various gifts of the Holy Spirit. The
wafers indicate the presence of Christ in His eucharistic Body,
which remains with us, under the species of bread, to the end of
time.” While the congregation stood with eyes raised to the
ceiling, the two “angels” intoned the final message of Ascension
Day, which predicts the triumphant coming of the Lord on the
clouds of Heaven, for the great judgment at the end of the world:
“Why do you stand looking up to heaven? This Jesus, who has been
taken up from you into heaven, shall come in the same way as you
have seen him going up to heaven.” (Acts 1, 11) The celebration
was concluded with solemn Benediction.
The Lutheran reformers violently attacked not only occasional
abuses in these plays, but the whole institution. However, Luther
himself seems to have later regretted the hasty condemnations of
earlier years, for in a message to his preachers he wrote in
1530: “If such customs had remained as pageants for the sake of
youth and school children, to furnish them with a presentation of
Christian doctrine and Christian life, then it could well be
allowed that Palm donkeys, Ascension plays, and many similar
traditions might be admitted and tolerated; for by such things
conscience is not led into confusion.”
Other Customs
It was a widespread custom in many parts of Europe
during the Middle Ages to eat a bird on Ascension Day, because
Christ “flew” to Heaven. Pigeons, pheasants, partridges, and even
crows, graced the dinner tables. In western Germany bakers and
innkeepers gave their customers pieces of pastry made in the
shapes of various birds. In England the feast was celebrated with
games, dancing, and horse races. In central Europe, Ascension Day
is a traditional day of mountain climbing and picnics on hilltops
and high places.
Popular superstitions threaten dire punishments to anyone who
works on Ascension Day in field and garden, but especially to
women who do their sewing on the feast. Any piece of garment that
has been touched by a needle on the Ascension will attract
lightning before long, and many stories are told of how people
were killed that way. In some sections of Europe it is said that
weddings should not be held on Ascension Day because one of the
partners would die soon. Those who go bathing in rivers and lakes
are exposed to the danger of drowning more than on other days. It
seems that all these superstitions are relics of the pre-Christian lore of the demons of death who were said to roam the
earth and kill people around this time of the year.
Three days ago, we marked the anniversary of the dedication of Constantinople in 330 AD as the “New Rome.” In the nearly 17 centuries that have passed since then, the city has undergone countless vicissitudes which have done tremendous damage to its monuments, and very little now remains from the days of Constantine himself. The most prominent and oldest surviving monument of his era is a large column which was built a few years before the dedication ceremony.
This was set up in a circular forum also named for him, which was part of the “Mese hodos – the middle way”, a great thoroughfare that ran through the new city from the imperial palace directly to a gate in the city walls. In the latter part of the 4th century, the emperor Theodosius would build another forum along the Mese, likewise decorated with a column dedicated to himself, but even taller; this was demolished at the end of the 15th century.
The column of Constantine is made of several drums of porphyry, an Egyptian stone which is extremely heavy and hard, difficult to work with and to transport, but much prized by the Romans, since its color was the color of royalty. It stands on a large pedestal which is now buried beneath the level of the surrounding piazza, to a depth of about 8 feet. When it was first constructed, it supported a statue of the emperor; this remained in place for almost eight centuries, until it was knocked over in 1106 by a storm, which also brought down the top three drums of the column itself. The total original height is estimated at about 50 meters or 164 feet, which would make it taller than either of the similar columns in Rome, those of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius.
The monument was also damaged by two of the great fires that broke out in Constantinople in antiquity, one in 475, and another in 532, during the famous episode known as the Nika riots, in the wake of which much of the city had to be rebuilt. In 1779, it was blackened by another fire so notably that it came to be known as “the Burnt Pillar.” But well before then, the Ottomans had it reinforced by a cage of iron hoops to prevent it from collapsing, and the piazza in which it stands is now known as “Çemberlitaş”, Turkish for “hooped stone.”
Sometime after the original statue was brought down, the emperor Manuel Comnenos (1143-80) had it replaced with a Cross, which was removed by the Turks after the taking of the city in 1453. Later Byzantine sources report that the statue itself had held an orb in its hand with a piece of the True Cross in it, and that several other relics were kept in a shrine at the base, including the crosses of the two thieves crucified with Christ, which St Helena had found along with that of the Lord, and (rather more improbably) the baskets used at the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, Mary Magdalene’s alabaster jar, plus (more improbably still) the ax of Noah and the staff of Moses. Likewise, it was also said to include the Palladium, a statute which the Romans believed had been brought from Troy to Italy by Aeneas himself. This was kept in the temple of Vesta in the Forum, and served as a protective talisman for the city. Although it is perfectly possible that Constantine could have moved such an object from the old Rome to the new, it is not known if he actually did so.
Truly it is fitting… though Christ our Lord. Who after the Resurrection, which is glorious unto all ages, appeared openly to His disciples, visible to their sight and palpable to the touch, unto the fortieth day, and was raised up unto heaven as they watched; from which time they did so profit, that what they believed might become more certain, and that they might learn more fully what to teach. Through the same Christ our Lord. (The Ambrosian Preface of the Ascension)
The Ascension of Christ, from an antiphonary decorated by Lorenzo Monaco, ca 1410
Vere quia dignum et justum est...per Christum, Dominum nostrum. Qui post resurrectionem sæculis omnibus gloriosam, discipulis suis visu conspicuus, tactuque palpabilis, usque in quadragesimum diem manifestus apparuit, ipsisque cernentibus, est elevatus in cælum: in id proficientibus intra has moras primitivas, ut et certius fìeret quod credidissent, et plenius dìscerent quod docérent. Per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum. Per quem majestatem tuam...
The following text is most of section 103 of book six of William Durandus’ Rationale Divinorum Officiorum; a few obscure passages have been omitted. The vigil of the Ascension is one of the relatively few features of the temporal cycle in which there was a lot of variation between different Uses of the Roman Rite in the Middle Ages, and some of the texts which he refers to here differ from those in the Roman Missal. The second part explains the baptismal significance of the Introits of the time after Easter, an appropriate subject for the last day of the Easter season properly so-called, and the beginning of the approach to Pentecost, the other major baptismal feast.
Since fasting, of which we have previously spoken (in the preceding section on the Rogation Days), is not sufficient without the works of mercy, therefore on the vigil of the Ascension, which is the third day of the Rogations, the Church exhorts us to the works of mercy, saying in the introit which is sung in some churches, “The mercy of the Lord etc.” (Repeated from Good Shepherd Sunday in the Use followed by Durandus.) For Gregory (the Great) says “If you want your prayer to fly up to heaven, make two wings for it, namely, fasting and alms.” (This saying is incorrectly attributed.) For with good desires we fly to heaven, whence it is said of the Lord, “Lifting up his hands, he was born unto heaven.” …
The Mass of the Vigil of the Ascension in a 15th century Missal according to the Use of Paris, with the Epistle Acts 4, 32-37, instead of the Roman Epistle, Ephesians 4, 7-13.
But the epistle which is read in some churches, (Acts 4, 32-37) seems not to fit, but rather, to set things in the wrong order, since it happened after the Lord’s Ascension that “the heart and mind of the multitude of the believers were one.” But this is done for two reasons. The first is so that the epistle may fit with the gospel (John 17, 1-11a), in which the Lord says “Father, glorify, (that is, manifest) Thy son”, and afterwards prays, saying “I ask that they may be (one) as we are,” and this unity is shown in the epistle. The other reason is that when alms are given from a true heart, all things are held to belong to all, as the Apostle says about the manna, that he who gathered more did not abound more, and who gathered less did not have less (2 Corinthians 8, 15, citing Exodus 16, 18): for he who is rich, should not for this reason eat more, but share it with others, and this is said in the epistle, “And they had all things in common.”
Now for this reason the aforementioned gospel is read today, because He that prayed when He was about to suffer, became known to men when He ascended (to heaven); or else because at the end it says “I come to Thee.” And in this (gospel) He prays for those whom the Father gave Him, that they may be one in the Father, since all things are one in faith and charity, that is, united to one another in harmony … St Hilary (of Poitiers) explains these words as follows. “I ask that just as I and Thou are one, that is, not only in will, but also in nature; so also may they be one, that is, in unity of spirit, and the grace of the Holy Spirit.” (De Trinitate VIII, 9)
But in other churches, the Epistle is (Ephesians 4, 7-13). …
Therefore, because this Mass is about alms and the works of mercy, in some places, in order that they may acquire for themselves the wings mentioned above, people busy themselves with almsgiving, but they defer this to the feast of the Ascension, as if then to fly unto heaven after Christ…
Now some people fittingly refer the Masses of Easter week to those who are reborn in baptism, according to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. And so, the one who is reborn, inspired by the spirit of wisdom, says “I have risen.” (The Introit of Easter Sunday) The gospel declares through what he is risen, namely, through the Resurrection of the Lord, and the spirit of understanding instructs him as to what he has gained thereby, saying, “He hath brought us into the Land” (The Introit of Easter Monday), that is, the Church; and the spirit of counsel adds, “With the water of wisdom He gave them to drink.” (Tuesday) The spirit of fortitude indicates what else he ought to gain thereby, saying “Come, ye blessed of my Father.” (Wednesday) The spirit of knowledge teaches him that for these benefits granted to him, he must praise God, saying “Together they praised Thy conquering hand, o Lord.” (Thursday) The spirit of piety indicates what the Resurrection has brought to the reborn, saying “The Lord hath led them out in hope” (Friday), and the spirit of fear adds to this, saying, “The Lord has led out his people.” (Saturday)
For all these benefits conferred in baptism, the angels congratulate men, men confess God, and exhort one another to the praises of Christ; they give thanks, they rejoice, they remember these benefits and the causes thereof, and they confidently aspire to greater things. The other parts of the Masses of Easter are concerned with this …
Notice also that in the Introits of this week, Alleluia is said four times in four of them (on Easter Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday), and three times in three of them, because praise is given to Holy Trinity from the four parts of the world for the resurrection of Christ, and the redemption of man. In the first Sunday, that is “Quasi modo geniti”, the baptized are urged by their mother (i.e. the Church) to live innocently like infants, and to desire the milk of the Holy Scripture, so that by their mores and life they may hold to the Paschal sacrament which they have received through Christ’s resurrection, overcome the world, triumph with him, and obtain rejoicing in body and soul together. Because of this rejoicing, the Alleluja (before the Gospel) is doubled, because they have escaped from death, and merited to have the hope of life; or as a symbol of action and contemplation; or as a symbol of the joy of the preachers and of those whom they convert.
(The Introit of Good Shepherd Sunday: “The earth is full of the mercy of the Lord, alleluia, and by the word of the Lord the heavens were established, alleluia, alleluia.” Psalm 32)
But on the second Sunday, the baptized, being already instructed, sound forth the mercy of Christ, and preach the Trinity; for in the word “mercy”, they announce the Spirit, in “the word” the Son, and in “God” (i.e. the Lord) the Father. First they mention the Spirit, through whom they are sanctified; then the Son, through whom they are redeemed, then the Father, to whom they are reconciled: and because they sing of the Trinity, they sing Alleluia three times.
(The Introit of the Third Sunday after Easter: “Shout with joy to God, all the earth, alleluia, sing a psalm to his name, alleluia; give glory to his praise, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.” Psalm 65)
On the third Sunday, the baptized invite the whole world to the praise of God, and sound forth the Trinity, … and since through the two precepts of charity they are strengthened in the faith of the Trinity, therefore, first they sing alleluia twice, then three times.
(The Introit of the Fourth Sunday: “Sing to the Lord a new song, alleluia: because the Lord hath done wonderful things, alleluia. In the sight of the nations He hath revealed his justice, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.” Psalm 97)
On the fourth Sunday, again the baptized invite the converted nations to the praise of God, and commemorate the Trinity, when in “the Lord” understand the Father, through “wonders” the Son, and in “justice” the Holy Spirit. And because the nations received the faith of the Trinity from the four parts of the world, therefore they sing of the Trinity with a fourth alleluia.
(The Introit of the Fifth Sunday: “Announce the voice of rejoicing, and let it be heard, alleluia: and proclaim even to the ends of the earth, the Lord hath redeemed his people, alleluia, alleluia.” Isaiah 48)
On the fifth Sunday, again the baptized announce their liberator to their nations, because they sing of the Trinity with a threefold Alleluia.
Now that we are on the threshold of peak wedding season, it is opportune to publish the following letter, which makes a case for the restoration of a longstanding traditional practice that, in the confusion of recent decades, has fallen by the wayside but deserves to be recovered. We publish it here with minor edits to make it more universal than its original epistolary form. – PAK
Dear Reverend Fathers,
Allow me to present a case to allow spouses at their wedding to make their vows and hear Mass in the sanctuary, in keeping with the immemorial English Catholic custom. This practice, rooted in the Sarum and Gallican traditions, was preserved in English-speaking lands long after Trent and was in continuous use until recently. In just a couple of decades it has disappeared from our churches. It’s restoration would not only honour legitimate tradition but also instruct the faithful in the sacred symbolism of Christian marriage.
I. Personal and Pastoral Context
As the father of 13 children, with one engaged to be married next year, and also a goddaughter scheduled to marry around the same time, this has become a prescient matter. In recent years it has become the practice in our churches for the vows to be exchanged at the communion rail and for the bride and groom to remain outside the communion rail to hear the Nuptial Mass. While this may be normal for the Roman Rite in other parts of the world, it has never been the norm in English speaking countries.
The tradition in Britain, Ireland, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and other English speaking countries was for the bride and groom to make their vows at the altar itself and then to remain in the sanctuary for the whole nuptial Mass, returning to the altar for the nuptial blessing and to receive Communion. These practices derive from the Sarum Rite, and prior to that, from ancient Gallican (French) practices. Thus, we are dealing with a tradition that is centuries old.
When I was a boy in the late 70s and 80s, my mother, a simple lady, with a solid, convent school faith, taught my brothers and me catechism herself before school every morning. When teaching about the sacrament of marriage she made a point of explaining that this unique honour, the only time lay people are the ordinary ministers of a sacrament, rightly takes place at the altar from which all graces flow.
When my wife and I were married in 1998, we continued this unbroken practice as our parents and forebears had done for untold generations.
Vows at the Altar, 1998
Nuptial Mass begins; note the prie-dieus for the bride and groom
Another example at our church, this time from 1999:
This custom wasn’t isolated to the antipodes. Below is a picture of Bishop Fulton Sheen witnessing a marriage in 1962. Note the communion rail behind the couple:
Today is the feast of two Roman Saints named Nereus and Achilleus. An inscription placed over their burial place by Pope St Damasus I (366-84) tells us that they were soldiers who were forced to participate in the persecution of Christians, but threw away their weapons and armor, and were in turn martyred for the Faith. There can be no doubt of the authenticity of their martyrdom, or that their feast is very ancient, but the date of their death is uncertain, and the various details later added to their story are considered legendary. In the pre-Tridentine Roman Divine Office, their Matins lessons amount to barely over a hundred words, which are restated with similar brevity in the reformed version of St Pius V. Their feast was kept at the lowest rank, and shared with another Roman martyr who died on the same day, St Pancratius.
Pope St Gregory the Great venerating a miraculous image of the Virgin and Child, surrounded by Ss Papias and Maurus (left), and Nereus, Achilleus and Domitilla (right); 1606-7, by Peter Paul Rubens. This painting was commissioned for the Chiesa Nuova, the church of the Roman Oratory, which dedicated to both the Virgin Mary and St Gregory; parts of the relics of the five Saints depicted in it are in the high altar.
They were buried in part of the Christian cemetery complex now known as the Catacomb of Domitilla, about 1½ miles from the Aurelian Walls down the via Ardeatina; Pope Damasus then built a small basilica on the grounds over this cemetery. More than two hundred years later, Pope St Gregory the Great preached in this church on the martyrs’ feast day. However, in later centuries, when the empire had fallen apart, and the countryside around Rome was no longer safe for pilgrims to traverse, the relics of nearly all the Saints who had originally been buried in the various catacombs were brought into the city, and placed in churches. The basilicas over the cemeteries were then abandoned and mostly fell into ruin, in some cases, so completely that their exact location is no longer identifiable.
The interior of the modern reconstructed basilica of Ss Nereus and Achilleus, at the catacomb of Domitilla. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Dennis G. Jarvis, CC BY 2.0)
It is not certain when Nereus and Achilleus were brought into Rome. Around 800 AD, Pope St Leo III built or rebuilt a church in their honor next to the baths of Caracalla, and it is possible that this was done specifically to accommodate the translation of their relics. But one way or another, four centuries later, they were brought to the church of St Hadrian in the Roman Forum.
When Pope Clement VIII elevated the great Church historian Cesare Baronio, a priest of the Roman Oratory and close friend of its founder, St Philip Neri, to the rank of cardinal in 1596, he gave him the church of Ss Nereus and Achilleus as his title. Baronio immediately set about giving the building a much-needed top-to-bottom restoration. The following year, the Saints’ relics were discovered at St Hadrian, and solemnly translated to their own church on the day before their feast.
At the time, it was mistakenly believed that this was the church in which St Gregory had preached the aforementioned homily, and the cardinal therefore had the full text of it carved onto the episcopal throne in the apse, where it can still be seen today. The feast itself was raised to the rank of semidouble, and excerpts of the same homily, on the Gospel of the healing of the prince’s son (John 4, 46-53) were added to the breviary. (Another part of the same homily is read on the 20th Sunday after Pentecost.)
Here is the conclusion, starting from where St Gregory mentions the Saints for the first time. If he seems very pessimistic about the state of the world, one must remember that Rome was in a terrible condition after the Gothic wars of the sixth century, and he would have walked through roughly two miles of ruins to get to the place where he preached it. Assuming he took the shortest route from the Lateran, where the popes lived at the time, he would have passed by at least one broken aqueduct, an abandoned bath complex, and a good many large but long-empty houses.
“Behold, this world which is loved flees away. These saints at whose grave we stand trampled the flourishing world with contempt. They had long life, continual health, material riches, many children, tranquility in long-lasting peace, and yet, though it flourishing in itself, this world had already withered in their hearts. Behold, now this world is withered in itself, and still, it flourishes in our hearts. Everywhere is death, everywhere mourning, everywhere desolation; on all sides we are struck, on all sides we are filled with bitterness. And yet, in the blindness of our mind, we love the very bitterness of the tasted fleshly desire; we pursue what flees, we cling to what falls, and since we cannot hold onto that which falls, we fall with what we hold onto. Once, the world captivated us for itself with its delight; now it is now full of such misfortunes that already it sends us back to God.
Consider, therefore, that what happens in time does not count, for the end of all temporal things shows how meaningless is that which can pass away. The collapse of things shows us that something which passes away was almost nothing, even when it seemed to stand firm. Dearest brothers, think of these things with careful consideration; fix your hearts in the love of eternity, so that, while you disdain to reach the heights of earth, you may come to that glory which you hold by faith, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is God, and lives and reigns with the Father in unity of the Holy Spirit, through all the ages of ages. Amen.”
The ruins of the baths of Caracalla in Rome, depicted in an engraving by the Swiss artist Louis Duclos (1748-1810), ca. 1780. In St Gregory’s time, the complex was already abandoned, but of course nowhere near so badly ruined.
On this day in 330 AD, the emperor Constantine presided over the dedication of a new capital of the Roman Empire, after six years of building on the site of the ancient city of Byzantium. The Greek historian Herodotus (ca. 485-425 B.C.) places the founding of Byzantium in 656 B.C., and in 334 AD, Constantine also presided over celebrations of its millennial anniversary; this indicates that he did not view his new city as a complete erasure of the old one, and indeed, its older name never dropped out of use. But of course, it was as “Constantine’s city – Constantinople” that it would become one of the greatest cities of human civilization, although its official name was always “New Rome.” It would continue as the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire until its fall to the Ottoman Turks in 1453, and remains the spiritual capital, so to speak, of Orthodox Christianity to this day.
A coin minted in 330AD to commemorate the founding of Constantinople; the image of Romulus and Remus being nursed by the she-wolf on the reverse is clearly a sign of continuity between the new and old Rome. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Ancientcointraders, CC BY-SA 4.0)
Much has been written and debated as to why exactly Constantine felt the need to create a new capital at all, but some things seem very certain. Despite its prestige and antiquity (which were in many ways synonymous concepts for the ancient Romans), the old Rome was no longer the empire’s political center of gravity. And indeed, in the period of the Tetrarchy which preceded Constantine’s accession to the throne, the emperors often kept their capitals elsewhere. Byzantium had never served in this role, but had the advantage of being a Mediterranean port with access to the Black Sea, and the crossing point of major roads running both East and West, by which an emperor could quickly reach the frontiers of either the Danube in Europe or the Euphrates in Asia.
Historians have often represented the founding of New Rome as Constantine’s project to recreate the ancient capital as a purely Christian city. This is unquestionably an exaggeration, although one which has unfortunately driven other historians to the opposite exaggeration, the complete denial of his Christian faith. Constantine unquestionably favored Christianity, granting it a privileged status and acting as its benefactor in a way which is not true of any other religion.
The column of Constantine, built in 328 AD, and dedicated along with the rest of New Rome on May 11, 330; this is the oldest monument that survives in the city from the era of Constantine himself. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Dmitry A. Mottl, CC BY-SA 4.0)
In the Byzantine Rite, this foundation of the city is commemorated liturgically on this day. It has often been charged against the Byzantine Church, and not unjustly, that it was and is far too beholden to the imperial power, or whoever happens to hold that power since empires have fallen out of fashion. However, we may note here in fairness that this commemoration is kept at a very low rank, does not have a full office, and that although Constantine is regarded as a Saint among the Byzantines, he is mentioned by name only obliquely in the title of the feast, but not in any of the hymns. Instead, the city is repeatedly referred to as the city of the Virgin Mary, as in the most frequently used of the proper liturgical texts, the tropar:
“The city of the Mother of God fittingly dedicates its establishment unto Her; for in Her it has been made steadfast to remain, and through Her it is saved and strengthened, as it cries out to Her, ‘Rejoice, o hope of all the ends of the earth!’ ”
A mosaic of the Virgin and Child in the apse of Hagia Sophia, the cathedral of Constantinople. This was installed in 867, 20 years after the definitive defeat of the iconoclast heresy which had wracked the Byzantine empire for nearly a century. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Dosseman, CC BY-SA 4.0)
“ ‘Take the place,’ said Constantine to Pope Sylvester. ‘It’s all yours. I am leaving and I shan’t come back – ever. When the time comes my sarcophagus … must lie in Christian surroundings. Rome is heathen and always will be. Yes, I know, you’ve got the tombs of Peter and Paul. I hope I have not shown myself insensible to that distinction. (This refers to his construction of the first Christian basilicas over the tombs of Saints Peter and Paul.) But why are they here? Simply because the Romans murdered them. That’s the plain truth. Why, they even thought of murdering me. It’s an ungodly place, your holiness, and you’re welcome to it.
One must start something new. I’ve got the site, very central; it will make a sublime port. (This is a pun on one of Constantinople’s many nicknames, ‘the Sublime Port.’) The plans are drawn. Work will start at once on a great Christian capital, in the very centre of Christendom; a city built round two great new Churches dedicated to – what do you think? – Wisdom and Peace. (Constantine did in fact build a church dedicated to Holy Peace as the new city’s cathedral, but the first Holy Wisdom, or ‘Hagia Sophia’ was built by his son.) … You can have your old Rome, Holy Father, with its Peter and Paul and its tunnels full of martyrs. We start with no unpleasant associations;” …
“Unpleasant associations are the seed of the Church,” said Pope Sylvester. (Another pun, on a famous saying of the Christian writer Tertullian, that “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.”)
Today is the first day of the penitential observance known as the Lesser Rogations, and also, by coincidence, the feast of St Mamertus, bishop of Vienne in France, who first instituted them around the year 470 A.D. His successor but one, St Avitus, has left us a sermon on the Rogations, in which he describes the reason why they were instituted, in the wake of a series of public calamities.
St Avitus is described by the Catholic Encyclopedia as “one of the last masters of the art of rhetoric as taught in the schools of Gaul in the fourth and fifth centuries.” His style is florid and prolix in a way that would make a literal translation in English almost unreadable, and much longer than his almost 1500 words in Latin. I have therefore chosen just a few extracts pertinent to the history of the observance. (The complete Latin text is in the Patrologia Latina, volume 59, columns 289C-294C.)
Two points call for special note. One is that St Avitus acknowledges that the Rogations were not originally celebrated by everyone on the same days, and that only later did the various churches settle on keeping them on the triduum before the Ascension. Rome itself at first only celebrated the Greater Rogations on April 25, but received the Lesser ones from Gaul in the Carolingian period, and as part of the Roman Rite they were then extended to the whole of the Western church. The one exception is the Ambrosian Rite, in which they are celebrated on the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday after Ascension, and with greater austerity as far as the liturgy is concerned than in the Roman Rite. The vestments are black, the standard Milanese color for the ferias of Lent, and in the Divine Office, all of the proper characteristics of the Paschal season (e.g., antiphons consisting only of the word “Hallelujah”) are suspended.
The other concerns the term Major and Minor Litanies, by which these days are called in the Roman liturgical books. St Avitus nowhere uses the term “litanies”, but refers in one place to “psalms and prayers” and in another to the “offices of psalms,” indicating that these were the substance of the rite, and that the singing of the Litany of the Saints was a later addition. (See the notes attached to the notice of St Mamertus given on May 11 in the revised Butler’s Lives of the Saints, quoting Edmund Bishop’s Liturgica Historia.)
Two leaves of the Farnese Hours, showing a penitential procession and part of the Litany of the Saints. Painted by Giulio Clovio for Card. Alessandro Farnese, in 1546; now in the Morgan Library in New York City.
The mighty river of the Rogation observance flows in its life-giving stream, not through Gaul alone, but nearly the whole world, and cleanses the land stained with vices with the rich flow of this satisfaction made every year. But for us (i.e., the church of Vienne) there is a more particular cause for both joy and the fulfillment of duty in this institution, since that which now flows forth from here to the good of all, came first from us … and certainly I know that many of us recall the reasons for the terrors of that time. For indeed, frequent fires, constant earthquakes, sounds in the night, portended and threatened, as it were, to make a pyre for the funeral of the whole world. (There follows a lengthy description of the calamities and portents, culminating with the destruction by fire of a large public building on the very night of the Easter vigil.)
My predecessor, and spiritual father in baptism, the bishop Mamertus, who many years ago was succeeded by my own father, as God saw fit, conceived of the whole idea of the Rogations in his holy spirit on that very night of the vigil of Easter which we have mentioned above, and together with God, silently determined all that which the world cries out today in Psalms and prayers. (St Mamertus then explains his plans to the leading citizens of Vienne.)
Therefore, as God inspired the hearts of the repentant, (his plan) is heard by all, confirmed and praised. These three days are chosen, which occur between Sunday and the feast of the holy Ascension, … (and) he announces the prayer of the first procession at the basilica which was closer to the city’s walls. The procession goes with the fervor of a great multitude, and the greatest compunction, … But when, from the accomplishment of these lesser things, the holy priest recognized the signs of greater things to come, on the following day, the custom which we about to observe tomorrow, if the Lord will it, was established for the first time. In the days thereafter, some of the churches of Gaul followed this worthy example; but it was not celebrated by them all on the same days as it was established among us. Nor was it very important that a period of three days be chosen, provided that the services of Psalms be completed with annual functions of penance. Nevertheless, as harmony among the bishops grew, together with love for the Rogation, their concern for a universal observance brought them to one time, that is, these present days.
Proclaim ye the voice of joy, alleluia, and let it be heard, alleluia, proclaim it unto the end of the earth: the Lord hath delivered his people, alleluia, alleluia. Ps. 65 Shout with joy to God, all the earth, sing ye a psalm to his name; give glory to his praise. Glory be to the Father... Proclaim ye... (The Introit of the Fifth Sunday after Easter,)
Introitus (Isa 48) Vocem jucunditátis annuntiáte, et audiátur, allelúja: annuntiáte usque ad extrémum terræ: liberávit Dóminus pópulum suum, allelúja, allelúja. Ps 65 Jubiláte Deo, omnis terra, psalmum dícite nómini ejus: date gloriam laudi ejus. Glória Patri... Vocem jucunditátis...
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