Medieval Art and Liturgical Objects at the Musée de Cluny in Paris (Part 1)

Our Ambrosian Rite expert Nicola de’ Grandi recently visited the Musée de Cluny in Paris, so called because it is housed in a building that was once the Parisian residence of the abbot of Cluny. This museum has an extremely important collection of medieval art, and probably is best known as the home of a famous set of six tapestries called The Lady and the Unicorn; there are, of course, a huge number of very beautiful liturgical objects in the collection as well. The museum recently hosted an exhibition titled “The Middle Ages of the 19th Century - Creations and Fakes in the Fine Arts”, a display of medieval works next to modern ones inspired by them, and some forgeries as well. I previously posted some pictures of this exhibition taken by another friend, but Nicola managed to photograph pretty much the entire thing, so this will extend over several posts.

We begin with a 19th-century reproduction of the one of the most famous objects in the Louvre’s medieval collection. The nucleus of the original is a vase made in the 2nd century of a kind of stone called porphyry, from the Greek word for “purple.” This material was high prized by the ancient Romans, partly because purple was the color of royalty, partly because it is very rare, found in only one place in Egypt; it is also extremely hard and heavy, making it difficult and expensive to work with and transport. The vessel had been at the abbey of St Denis outside Paris for many years, lying disused in a chest, when it was discovered by the abbot Suger (1080 ca. - 1151), better known to the world as the inventor of Gothic architecture. The abbot had the vessel mounted with metal pieces, made partly of silver and gold, in the form of an eagle, so it could be used as a vessel for the washing of hands during solemn Mass.

A clock made in 1835, modelled on the façade of Notre-Dame de Paris as it was before the restorations of Eugène Viollet le Duc began in 1844.

A pyx for the Blessed Sacrament made in 1887...

modelled on this original made in Limoges ca. 1200.

A jeweled chalice and paten set made between 1868 and 1890...

copied from this set made before the year 962 at the abbey of St Maximin in Trier, commissioned by a bishop of Toul named Gauzelin, for the abbey of Bouxières-aux-Dames.
  

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Hours of Charles of Angoulême (Part 2): The Passion Cycle and Calendar

This is the second set of images from a particularly high quality book of Hours made for Charles, count of the French city of Angoulême (1459-96), and father of King Francis I (r. 1515-47). (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Lat. 1173); the first part was published on Monday. Just under half of the volume, folios 59-115, is taken up with a very long series of prayers and meditations on the Passion, in both Latin and French, interspersed with twelve images that show episodes from the washing of the disciples’ feet at the Last Supper to the supper at Emmaus. These were originally created as engravings by a German printmaker named Israhel van Meckenem, which were then colored in by the main artist, Robinet Testard (fl. 1470 - 1519). Below them I include the twelve pages of the calendar.

As is typical of the late Gothic period, Meckenem’s images are quite complicated, with a lot of figures in a fairly limited amount of space, and very often more than one episode squeezed into the background. Here we see Christ washing St Peter’s feet in the foreground, with the Last Supper inside the building on the right, and in the upper left, the agony in the garden, with the crowd of soldiers entering the garden through the gate. (If you click the image to enlarge it, you can see that the figure of St John in front of the Lord at the table is very imperfectly drawn as the result of trying to compress too many figures into too small a space.)

The kiss of Judas and the arrest of Christ, with St Peter attacking the high priest’s servant at the lower left.

Christ appears before Pilate, who is dressed more or less as a typical urban magistrate of the period; at the lower left, a soldier is seen grabbing St Peter’s collar, as the serving girl looks on, and at the upper left, we see the soldiers mocking the Lord.

The flegellation, and at the upper left, Christ before Herod.

The crowning with thorns, and at the upper left, the soldiers hitting the Lord.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

A Visit to the Rectory of Vancouver Cathedral

On a trip last fall to give lectures in Vancouver, I was kindly hosted by the staff of the rectory of the cathedral. During my stay, I took a few photos of some items that will be of interest to many readers of NLM. First, the rectory from the street:

In the hallway at the top of the stairs on the way to the small private chapel is found a rather beautiful alcove with a statue of the Sacred Heart (click to enlarge any image):

The small chapel itself is well appointed for the offering of the traditional Mass, a regular occurrence there:

A parlor nearby features one of the finest statues I’ve ever seen of St. Peter Julian Eymard:

Hanging on the wall, a portrait of Christ, with the inscription “I desire mercy.”

Continue Reading this Article. . .

An American Diocese Institutes Lenten Stational Churches

My thanks to Kathy Pluth, whose excellent work on hymns I have often cited, for bringing this item to my attention. The Diocese of Bridgeport, Connecticut, which comprises the southwest corner of the state, has instituted a daily Lenten pilgrimage, following the very ancient modeled of the Roman station churches. In this video, His Excellency Frank Caggiano, who has led the diocese since July of 2013, announces that the stations will be held every evening at a different church on the weekdays and Saturdays, starting on Ash Wednesday at the cathedral of St Augustine.

Rome was, of course, not by any means the only place that kept stational observances; e.g., we ran a series in 2019 by Henri de Villiers on those of Paris. There is no reason why other dioceses cannot follow suit and institute a similar custom themselves, and as a reminder, it is not even necessary to have them every day. (The Parisian church only kept them on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays of Lent.) We congratulate Bishop Caggiano for this fine initiative, and very much hope that it will be widely copied - feliciter!

Learn Wall Painting in the Gothic Style of Matthew Paris and the School of St Albans

Artists, This Will Equip You To Get Commissions

Here is a recommendation for painters: if you want to get commissions, you need more than the ability to supply individual paintings in your chosen style. You need to be able to paint walls. My recommendation for style in contemporary churches is a new manifestation of the School of St Albans. Read more about why here.

Virgin and Child, by Matthew Paris, English, 13th century. The artist has included himself venerating the Mother of God and adoring Christ

And here’s a recommendation for patrons, those choosing and paying for art for churches: if you want to have an impact on the liturgical engagement of your congregations through art – something which is vital for the revival of Catholic culture – the most cost-effective way is to introduce a planned full schema of art, floor to ceiling, on the apse or back walls of the sanctuary. Ideally, this would be like the iconostasis in a Byzantine church, except as a wall painting behind the altar.

Fresco by Martin Earle, English, 21st century

Artists can now learn how to do this by taking the Writing the Light wall painting program and icon drawing program under Master iconographer George Kordis. This is a two-year, part-time hybrid program (a combination of online and in-person workshops) – see a recent post about it here. The program focuses on the Greek style of iconography, but students who want to make the School of St Albans style their own should supplement it with personal study of past works by artists such as Matthew Paris. The key is to imitate that style until it becomes your natural artistic expression. This process of copying with understanding is how, for example, artists of the High Renaissance such as Michelangelo and Raphael made the ancient Greek ideal their own. They systematically copied Greek and Roman statues as part of their training, as well as drawing and painting from life. So artists who wish to make the Gothic style their own should learn the skills of their craft – Writing the Light will teach them this – as they study both from life and works of past Masters in the Gothic style. It will need students with ability and drive initially, but it is most certainly possible.

Patrons, another challenge for you: consider sponsoring a talented artist from your church to develop these skills through Writing the Light. You can read more at WritingtheLight.com.

What is the School of St Albans?

The School of St Albans is the style of English illumination in the late Romanesque and early Gothic period, particularly the work of the 13th-century monk Matthew Paris, based at St Albans Abbey in Hertfordshire, England. The style can be seen in manuscripts like the Westminster Psalter and in wall paintings that still survive in English churches.

This is a style that relies on the description of form with line, and is restrained in its use of tonal and color variation. These limitations help eliminate the sentimentality of naturalism, which is the blight of so many modern artists.

True to the Gothic spirit, by which classical sources were integrated into cultural expressions. Paris drew and painted not only sacred art for books like psalters and illustrations of the lives of saints, but also figures such as Plato and Socrates. He was also influenced by the renewed interest in the philosophy of Aristotle, and thus a keen observer of nature who drew many studies of plants and animals.

Why the School of St Albans?

When in discussing the reestablishment of beautiful sacred art in the Roman Catholic Church, part of what we have to think about is choosing a style from the past and using it as a starting point from which it is believed a characteristic style for today will emerge. Some look at the Baroque, some at iconography. My thought is that we look at this period. The suggestion for the name of the art of this period – the School of St Albans – originally came from a student in a class of mine over 10 years ago now.

My experience as a teacher is that Roman Catholics do seem to take to this style naturally and make it their own, even in a single class. You can see the work my students did in a past week-long workshop several years ago in this blog post.

When we studied images from this period, the students engaged with them much more readily – they liked them more than Eastern icons and seemed to understand them more instinctively. As a result, some quickly developed a feel for what they could change without straying outside the tradition they were working in. In contrast, most who had not seen it before found the style of Eastern icons slightly alien. In iconography classes, they had no instinctive sense of what they could change while remaining within the tradition. This meant we had to copy rigorously to avoid introducing errors. It was a bit like learning words in a language by rote, without understanding their meaning. This is not always such a bad thing – copying with understanding is an essential part of learning art – but at some point the student must apply his understanding in new ways. This latter point seemed to be reached more quickly by these Roman Catholic students when working in the Gothic style than in the iconographic style.

Can This Style Work on a Large Scale?

The style will be most familiar to readers as seen in illuminated manuscripts by Matthew Paris; generally, these are miniatures. Some have questioned whether this style would work on a large scale. I have always thought that it could be adapted to work on the walls of modern churches.

Original medieval wall paintings have been uncovered at St Albans Cathedral. I made a trip there to see them in 2018. The paintings are pale, but as we can see, they are done on a large scale and follow this same basic style – form described by line, with simple coloration. The photographs include St Amphibalus (a convert of St Alban) baptizing converts – note full immersion! – and Euclid and Herman the Dalmatian (a medieval philosopher), above.

Whether or not you are convinced that it is right to use this style today, we can certainly conclude that the artists of the period considered it appropriate for floor-to-ceiling frescoes (this church has a high ceiling). I would encourage patrons and artists to look at these and think about how they could reproduce this style in our churches. I think that it allows for large areas to be covered relatively easily and appropriately.

New Novel About the Latin Mass Reviving A Rural Parish

Bishop J. Donald Doherty was chuckling at the large map of his diocese that covered most of his desk, its parish churches marked by bright blue crosses, the parish boundaries by dotted blue lines, their schools and the diocesan high school by (of course) little red schoolhouses, the cemeteries by bright green crosses. Near the northern edge of his fief lay a lonely blue cross, circled by him, a moment ago, in heavy black ink. He pressed the intercom button on his phone.

“Ed, you remember that strange letter from those people calling themselves Saint—what was it? Ambrose? Aquinas?” Asking for the old Mass? I’m going to give them Forty Martyrs.”

“Don, you can’t do that—er, sorry.”

“Relax, Ed. Haven’t had so much fun in years. It’s perfect.”

~ ~ ~

Double doors with glass windows led into the nave, which was carpeted in surgical green, with brown spots scattered about, some bearing fresh bits of ceiling tile. Just inside the doors stood a wide concrete birdbath, evidently a combination baptismal font and stoup, with two small birds of the same material perched on the rim. The free-standing altar directly ahead bore a festive drape of pale blue satin, richly ornamented with vines and flowers. The tabernacle of indeterminate metal with abstract dove stood on a narrow shelf beyond it, flanked by thirsty-looking ferns in green plastic trugs.

“Fern bar,” Houghton commented brightly.

~ ~ ~

Few of his parishioners had ever heard of Septuagesima, he was sure. Sometimes he thought he knew how the Irish felt when they labored to restore Gaelic, or the Israelis when they revived Hebrew as a spoken language.

~ ~ ~

In her new novel Death Comes to Wyandotte, Elizabeth Altham has given us something all too rare in modern fiction: a deeply Catholic story that shines with the triumph of grace and grit over sin and cynicism. Instead of being dark, dark, dark (as so much new writing is), the story glimmers with hope and sparkles with humor.

In its pages, we follow the assignment of Fr. Hopkins and Fr. Houghton to a hideously constructed, dying parish in the boondocks, where the bishop is counting on the Latin Mass community to fail and fall apart. But that’s not what the Lord has in mind, who uses a variety of weak, strong, and volatile instruments to accomplish His purpose, in spite of every obstruction. “The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not.”

“It is no accident that Death Comes to Wyandotte calls to mind the great work of Willa Cather, because Elizabeth Altham’s splendid writing mirrors hers. Altham’s tragicomical account of two young priests navigating the debris of a post-conciliar church is a page-turner.” —Rev. John A. Perricone

“This is a true story—or should be—about two priests who must come to grip with the dying, both natural and unnatural, of persons. Much to the chagrin of the Church leaders, the salt-of-the-earth parishioners respond heartily to the old-fashioned manners of their new clergy, and support them in the greatest trauma of all.” —Duncan Stroik, Professor of Architecture, University of Notre Dame

“Wyandotte is about life well-lived by hardworking people in a midwestern rural parish run by two blessedly agreeable, hardworking priests.... The book delightfully fills that literary gap in your bookshelf reserved for ‘restoration of spirit.’” —Priscilla Smith McCaffrey, author of Christmas Blossoms

“Like Willa Cather, Elizabeth Altham channels the beauty of the Midwest into a quietly triumphant celebration of hope and faith.” —Maggie Gallagher, Executive Director, Benedict XVI Institute

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

The Hours of Charles of Angoulême (Part 1)

Here is another wonderful discovery from the endless treasure trove of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, a book of Hours made for one Charles, count of the French city of Angoulême (1459-96), and the father of King Francis I (r. 1515-47). (BnF Lat. 1173) The book contains a large number of full and half-page images of extremely high quality, most of which are attributed to an artist named Robinet Testard (fl. 1470 - 1519). It also includes several engravings reproduced from works by a German printmaker, Israhel van Meckenem, which were colored in by Testard; these include a series of 12 images of the Passion, which I will post separately.

By the later 15th century, Books of Hours almost always included a set of four Gospel readings, one from each evangelist: John 1, 1-14, from the day Mass of Christmas; Luke 1, 26-38, from the feast of the Annunciation; Matthew 2, 1-12 from Epiphany; and Mark 16, 14-20 from the Ascension. Very often, each is introduced by its own picture of the corresponding evangelist, but here, they are all represented in one image by their traditional symbols, which surround Our Lord. Between them are the original four doctors of the Latin Church, and in the corners, the major prophets.

At the beginning of the Office of Our Lady is this image of the Annunciation. Note the arms of the kings of France on the reading desk, and on the altar, an image of Moses with the tablets of the Law.

The first page of the Office, with Our Lady dressed in blue and holding a prayer book, within the decorative initial.

A decorative page at the end of Lauds.

Books of Hours also routinely include two very brief Offices after that of the Virgin, one of the Cross, and another of the Holy Spirit. The former is introduced by this image of Our Lord as a child holding the Cross...

and the latter by this image of the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, set within a church; only eight of the twelve Apostles are included, so as to not make the space too crowded. (One of them is clearly identifiable as St James the Elder from his pilgrim hat.)

Matins of the Holy Spirit, with this beautiful image of the dove, and banderoles chained together with strings of beads, with several liturgical texts from Pentecost written on them.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Sexagesima Sunday 2026

Sexagesima (sixtieth) means “six times ten”, and thus, by six are understood the works of mercy, and by ten, the Decalogue... and just as the Lord, after working for six days, blessed the seventh, so after perfecting the works of the Decalogue, we will come to eternal blessedness, and He will say to us, “Come, ye blessed.” (Matthew 25, 31-46, the Gospel of the first Monday of Lent.)

Icon of the Last Judgment, 1640-41, by Franghias Kavertzas. In the Byzantine Rite, today is known as both Meatfare Sunday, from the custom that it is the last day on which meat may be eaten before the fast of Great Lent begins, or the Sunday of the Last Judgment, from the Gospel read at the Divine Liturgy. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

And therefore, on Sexagesima is read the Gospel, “When a very great multitude (was gathered together; Luke 8, 4-15)”, about the seed of the word of God, so that men may sow the works of mercy, in order to have that blessing. And because in most that seed is suffocated, therefore (the Church) cries out in the Introit, “Arise, why does thou sleep, o Lord?” But on the third Sunday (of Forelent), namely, on Quinquagesima, she shows by Whom she wishes to be freed, namely, by God, whence she says in the Introit, “Be thou unto me God and protector”; and because the Lord is near to all who call upon Him, that liberation follows on the next Sunday, whience she says in the Introit, “He will call upon me, and I will hear him.” For it is impossible that he not be freed, who through confession lays bare his sins, which are the griefs that lead to hell (mentioned in the Introit of Septuagesima), and grieves with a grief that makes satisfaction (for his sins), and asks to be free by the Lord. But, because sins separate a man from God, therefore in doubt he cries out (William Durandus, De Div. Off. VI, 26, 2-3) 

Arise, why dost Thou sleep, o Lord? Arise, and drive us not away forever; why dost Thou turn Thy face away, forgetting our tribulation? Our belly cleaveth to the earth; arise, O Lord, help us, and deliver us. Ps. 43 O God, our ears have heard, our fathers have declared to us. Glory be. As it was. Arise. (The Introit of Sexagesima Sunday.)

Exsurge, quare obdormis, Dómine? exsurge, et ne repellas in finem: quare faciem tuam avertis, oblivísceris tribulatiónem nostram? adháesit in terra venter noster: exsurge, Dómine, ádjuva nos, et líbera nos. Ps. 43 Deus, áuribus nostris audívimus: patres nostri annuntiavérunt nobis. Gloria Patri. Sicut erat. Exsurge.

The Feast of St Romuald

The incorrupt body of St Romuald was transferred to the church of St Blaise in the Italian city of Fabriano on February 7, 1481. When Pope Clement VIII added his feast to the general calendar in 1595, in the second edition of the Breviary of St Pius V, it was assigned to the anniversary of this translation, since the day of his death, June 19th, had been from very ancient times the feast of the Milanese martyrs Ss Gervase and Protase. On the calendar of the post-Conciliar Rite, he is kept on the latter date.

Born in the mid-10th century, an age in which religious life had in many places fallen into terrible decadence, Romuald became one of the great monastic reformers in an age of great reformers. The pattern of Benedictine monasticism which he created was formed by bringing together two different ways of life. The first of these was the traditional communal life, as practiced at the monastery of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe near Ravenna, in accord with the Cluniac reform. To this day, there stands right in the middle of the church’s nave the altar where St Romuald was praying, when Apollinaris, an early martyr buried therein, appeared to him in a vision, and confirmed his monastic vocation.

The second was the eremitical life, a tradition more focused on personal austerity, which he learned under a spiritual master named Marinus. Romuald’s biographer, St Peter Damian, describes Marinus as “a man of simple spirit... driven to the eremitical life only by the impulse of his good will,” while referring also to his “severity lacking in judgment.” The monastery founded by Romuald at Camaldoli near Arezzo would thus become the model for a rather loosely organized order, formerly divided into five separate congregations, in which the cenobitic and eremitical life were united.

In the year 1365, the Florentine painter Nardo di Cione executed an altarpiece for the chapel of St Romuald in the Camaldolese house in Florence, St Mary of the Angels. (He is better known today as the first painter of Dante’s Divine Comedy, including what was once an exceptionally vivid, though now much-ruined vision of Hell, in the Strozzi Chapel at Santa Maria Novella.) The central panel shows the Trinity, in the form known as the Mercy Seat, with St Romuald on the left, and St John the Evangelist on the right.

The Lamb of God, as described in the fifth and sixth chapters of the Apocalypse of St John, is represented at top, on the book with the seven seals.

On the left of the predella is shown the appearance of Saint Apollinaris to Romuald.

On the left part of the middle panel, Marinus is shown disciplining Romuald by hitting him in the face with a stick. St Peter Damian tells us that after enduring many such blows, Romuald humbly asked that Marinus might beat him on the right side of his face, since he was starting to loose his hearing on the left side. (Hence the reference to “severity lacking in judgment.”) On the right, Romuald overcomes the assaults of demons, like many great monks before him, such as St Anthony the Abbot.

On the right panel, the famous vision of St Romuald is depicted, in which he beholds a ladder by which monks in the white Camaldolese habit ascend to heaven, “in the likeness of the Patriarch Jacob”, as the Roman Breviary says.

“The Divine Services of the Orthodox Church with Commentary” - A New Liturgical Handbook for the Byzantine Rite

I am very happy to share news of the publication of a new handbook for the Byzantine Rite, entitled “The Divine Services of the Orthodox Church with Commentary”, authored by three priests and scholars of liturgical theology, Fr Joshua Genig PhD, Fr Lucas Christensen PhD, and Fr Patrick O’Grady PhD. The book is a comprehensive yet accessible catechetical resource, designed to guide both clergy and laity more deeply into the rich theology, symbolism, and spiritual meaning embedded in the Orthodox liturgical cycle, an Eastern hand missal, as it were, with rich catechetical commentary.

Key features include:

• Detailed explanations of each major service (Vespers, Matins, Divine Liturgy, Sacraments, and festal services)
• Patristic commentary integrated with practical pastoral insights
• Sections on how the liturgy forms the Christian life and combats modern secular distractions
• Beautiful liturgical texts, rubrics, and catechetical questions for group study or personal reflection
• Original translation of liturgical texts

The priests who authored it are eager to share this work as a tool for renewal in parishes and for inquirers seeking to understand the heart of Eastern Christian worship.

Among the other contributors to the project are some Roman or Byzantine Catholics, including Brendan Devine, Deacon Trevor Fernandes, and myself. (I wrote most of the essays in one part of the book, the section on the history and significance of the Twelve Great feasts.) Father Robert Taft, SJ, beatae memoriae, one of the great modern scholars of the Byzantine Rite, wrote an endorsement of the project. It is hoped that this book will help to bring about liturgical renewal in both East and West. The book has endorsements of three Orthodox Hierarchs.

The book may be purchased at the following links, in either full-color version or grayscale; all profits from the sale will go toward the priests in their ministry.

https://www.amazon.com/Divine-Services-Orthodox-Church-Commentary-Full/dp/B0GCYK7NJF

https://www.amazon.com/Divine-Services-Orthodox-Church-Commentary-Grayscale/dp/B0GCYJKNK8

“From its opening pages, this book unveils a treasury of wisdom, weaving together the beauty of our liturgical tradition, the depth of patristic theology, and the radiant hope of the Gospel. The authors have crafted a text that speaks not only to the mind but also to the heart, guiding readers toward a deeper communion with the Holy Trinity. Whether addressing the mysteries of the Eucharist, the sanctity of prayer, or the call to virtuous living, this work resonates with the apostolic zeal and pastoral care that define our Orthodox witness.

I am particularly moved by the book’s fidelity to the teachings of the Holy Fathers and its gentle invitation to all—clergy, monastics, and laity alike—to live more fully in the grace of our Lord. It is a rare gift to encounter a text that so harmoniously balances scholarly insight with spiritual warmth, making it an invaluable companion for the sacred liturgy and communal study.” — from a letter of endorsement by Metropolian Jakovos of Mexico, Exarch of Central America and the Carribbean Islands.

The Per quem haec omnia

Lost in Translation #159

In order to honor the 800th anniversary year of the passing of St Francis of Assisi, we interrupted our explication of the Ordinary of the Mass with several weeks dedicated to Francis’ Canticle of the Sun. That being complete, we now return to the Mass. Since our last entry was on the Nobis quoque peccatoribus, we turn now to the prayer in the Canon that follows it:

Per quem haec omnia, Dómine, semper bona creas, sanctíficas, vivíficas, benedícis, et praestas nobis.

Which I translate as:

Through Whom, O Lord, You forever create, sanctify, enliven, bless, and give all these good things to us.

Our first task is to determine the referents to the words “whom” (quem) and “all these” (haec omnia). The “whom” is easy, since the previous prayer ends with “Through Christ our Lord.” God the Father endlessly creates, sanctifies, enlivens, and blesses through His Son, the Word through whom all things are made. (John 1, 1) Or, to borrow the framework of St. Maximus the Confessor, in the Word (Logos) are all the little words (logoi) of creation, words that are the blueprints for each and every created thing. All creatures, then, are images and signs of the Divine Logos who loved them into existence.

The identity of “all these good things” is less clear. The preceding prayer, the Nobis quoque peccatoribus, asks for two good things, a part and a fellowship with fifteen named saints. But one does not normally think of a part and a fellowship as creatures. The newly consecrated Eucharist could be what the prayer has in mind, but only if we think first of (created) bread and wine that is then sanctified, enlivened, and blessed to become Christ’s Body and Blood.

Solving this puzzle requires a historical knowledge of the prayer. At this point of the Canon, the early Roman liturgy sometimes paused in order to have certain products of nature blessed, often in tandem with the liturgical year. For a solemn baptism, water, milk and honey were blessed; on St Stephen’s Day (December 26), fodder for cattle; on St John the Apostle’s Day (December 27), wine; on St Blaise’s Day (February 3), bread, wine, fruits, and seeds; on St Agatha’s Day (February 5), bread and water; on Easter Sunday, the “Easter lamb”; and on St Xystus’ Day (August 6), grapes. A residue of this custom remains in the Roman Rite when the bishop blesses the oil for the sick in the Holy Thursday Mass. [1]

The Per quem haec omnia, then, is most likely the unchanging conclusion to various blessings once used throughout the year. This in itself is significant, for by placing a blessing of creatures within the Canon, a link is established between the Eucharist and creation, and that link remains even when there is no particular blessing of a creature. As Jungmann eloquently puts it, “The Incarnation itself was the grand consecration of creation,” [2] for in the grand words of the Roman Martyrology on Christmas Eve:

In the sixth age of the world, while the whole earth was at peace, Jesus Christ, Himself Eternal God and Son of the Eternal Father, wishing to consecrate the world by His most merciful coming, having been conceived of the Holy Spirit, and when nine months were passed after His conception, was born of the Virgin Mary at Bethlehem of Juda, made Man, our Lord Jesus Christ was born according to the flesh.

The wording of the prayer is curious. God the Father, through His Son, does four things to “all these good things”: He creates them, sanctifies them, enlivens them, and blesses them. To underscore its meaning, the priest makes the sign of the cross three times during this prayer, when he says “sanctify,” “enliven,” and “bless” but not when he says “create.” Such is also the pattern in the Genesis account of creation, where God first creates and then blesses. And there is an additional mystical meaning. For St. Thomas Aquinas, the signs of the cross made during the Canon signify the different stages of the Passion. The three signs made here represent Christ’s threefold prayer on the Cross: “Father, forgive them,” “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” and “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.”[3]

The addition of “sanctify” and “enliven” may seem superfluous, but it introduces a “Pneumatological” (or Holy Spirit) dimension, thus acknowledging a Trinitarian role in creating and redeeming creation. Sanctification hearkens to when God blessed and sanctified the seventh day (Gen. 2, 3), while “enliven” (vivificas) is from the same word used to describe the Holy Spirit in the Nicene Creed, the Vivificans or Life-Giver.

William Durandus sees even more in the prayer:

And so, “You create” by founding nature, “You sanctify” by consecrating matter, “You enliven by transubstantiating creation, and “You bless” by increasing grace. Indeed, what is said about these things is simply a demonstration of the pronoun… “these things”—obviously, bread, wine, and water, He always creates good things according to primordial canonical causes. “You sanctify” according to sacramental causes; “You enliven,” that it may pass into Flesh and Blood; and “You bless,” that it may preserve unity and charity. [4]

Notes

[1]The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development, vol. 2 (New York: Benzinger Brothers, 1951), p. 260.

[2] See Jungmann, vol. 2, p. 263.

[3] Summa Theologiae III.85.5.ad 3.

[4] See William Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officionorum IV.46.9.