The Feast of Saints Simeon and Anne

In the Byzantine Rite, the term “synaxis” (σύναξις in Greek, собóръ (sobor) in Church Slavonic) refers to a commemoration held the day after a major feast, honoring a sacred person who figures prominently in the feast, but who is, so to speak, overshadowed by its principal subject. The best known example is the feast of the Holy Spirit, which is kept on the Monday after Pentecost, since Pentecost itself is the feast of the Holy Trinity. Likewise, a Synaxis of the Virgin Mary is kept the day after Christmas, of St John the Baptist on January 7th, the day after the Baptism of the Lord, and of St Gabriel the day after the Annunciation. These are not the principal feasts of the persons honored by these “synaxes”, and one also finds on the Byzantine liturgical calendar the other major feasts of the Virgin (Conception, Nativity, Assumption etc.) feasts of St John on Sept. 23 (his conception), June 24 and August 29, and that of St Gabriel on June 11.

In the case of Ss Simeon and Anna, the placement of their joint feast on February 3rd, the day after the Meeting of the Lord, as it is called in the East, was clearly inspired by this custom; it is not, however, a synaxis, but their proper feast day, and in Greek liturgical books is therefore called a “μνήμη (mneme) - memorial.” This feast appropriately shares a number of its liturgical texts with the After-feast of the Meeting, the equivalent of a western octave. In the Roman Rite, Simeon is noted in the Martyrology on October 8, and Anna on September 1st, but neither of them has ever been the object of any liturgical devotion.

A Greek icon of both the Meeting of the Lord and the Baptism, 1540-60, now in the Benai Museum in Athens, Greece. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

All feasts in the Byzantine Rite begin with Vespers of the preceding day. On the evening of February 2nd, the following hymns of the type known as stikhera are sung between the verses of a group of Psalms which are said every day at that Hour, 140, 141, 129 and 116 according to the Septuagint numbering. The first three of these are proper to the After-feast of the Meeting, the second three are of the two Saints.

First Stikheron: The Maker of all things and our Redeemer was brought to the temple by the Virgin Mother, whence the Elder received Him, and with joy cried out, “Now dost Thou dismiss Thy servant, o Good one, in peace, as it hath pleased Thee.”

Second: Simeon, taking from the Virgin in his arms Him that was before the ages, and was born as the Savior, cried out, “I have seen the illumination, the wonders of Thy glory; now dost Thou dismiss Thy servant, o Good one, in peace, because I have seen Thee.”

Third: Simeon, bearing in his arms Him that was born as the Savior in the last days for the salvation of mortals, cried out with joy, “I have seen the light of the nations and the glory of Israel; now dost Thou dismiss (me), as thou hast said, o God, from this world by Thy command.”

Fourth: As one just and perfect, and glorious in all things, o divinely inspired one, speaking in prophecy, thou didst take up in thy hands the one perfect God, who was made incarnate and came to justify the world; and thou was released from the body, crying out to Him, “Now dost Thou dismiss Thy servant in peace, who lovest mankind, for I have seen Thee today!”

Fifth: Being still young in spirit, though advanced in years in the body, thou didst learn in prophecy, o Simeon, that thou wouldst not see death until thou shouldst see as a newborn Him that was before the ages, God the Creator, like a poor man in the flesh of all man; and seeing Him, thou didst leap for joy, and asked for release from the flesh, rejoicing that thou didst pass over unto the tabernacles of heaven.

Sixth: Anna the divinely inspired and Simeon the all-blessed, shining forth in prophecy, blameless in the law, having pointed out the Giver of the Law, who was beheld as an infant in our likeness, have now seen and worshipped Him. Gladly let us keep their memory today, duly glorifying Jesus, who loveth mankind.

The last hymn of such a group is called a Theotokion, sung after the doxology, and always dedicated to the Virgin Mary.

Theotokion The ancient of days, being an infant in the flesh, is brought by the Virgin Mother to the temple, fulfilling the commandment of His own Law; whom Simeon receiving, said, “Now dost Thou dismiss in peace Thy servant, according to Thy word, for my eyes have seen Thy salvation, o Holy One.”

On any given day, the most frequently used chants of the Byzantine Office are the tropar and kontak, which are said at all of the minor Hours, Orthros, and the Divine Liturgy; the tropar is always said at the end of Vespers, and is also known as the dismissal hymn (apolytikion). The feast of Ss Simeon and Anna does not have its own texts for these chants, but simply repeats them from the previous day.

Tropar Rejoice, who are full of grace, Virgin Mother of God, for from Thee hath arisen the Sun of Justice, Christ our God, who enlighteneth those in darkness. Rejoice thou also, o righteous Elder, who didst receive in thine arms the liberator of our souls, and granteth us also the Resurrection.

Kontak Thou who didst sanctify the virginal womb by Thy birth, and bless the hands of Simeon, as was becoming, hast even now saved us beforehand, o Christ our God. But give peace in the midst of wars to the community, and strengthen the kings whom Thou hast love, who alone lovest mankind.

The following recording is the very end of a Divine Liturgy, after which the clergy descend to venerate the festal icon, while the choir repeats the major chants of the feast. The tropar begins at 4:30, followed by the doxology and the kontak.

It is of course Simeon who pronounced the canticle which in the Western church is known from its first words as the Nunc dimittis, and is said every day at Compline in the Roman Rite outside monastic churches. In the Byzantine Rite, it is said every day at Vespers at the conclusion of a series of hymns called the aposticha. Here is a recording of two chants, the hymn to the Virgin “Truly it is fitting”, which is ordinarily sung during the anaphora of the Divine Liturgy, and the Nunc dimittis (beginning at 1:50), both in Church Slavonic. This recording was made at the Russian College in Rome in November of 2015 at a conference in honor of Fr Ludwig Pichler, SJ, a few months after his 100th birthday. Fr Pichler directed the college’s choir from 1948 until his retirement in 2009; he passed away in May of 2017.

On the great feasts such as the Meeting, the hymn to the Virgin is replaced by another, the last of the long series of chants known as a Canon, which is sung at Orthros. In Slavic practice, it is repeated each day of the After-feast, but in the Greek practice, only on the last day, which is known as the Leave-Taking.

Mother of God, help of all Christians, look upon, watch over and protect them that hope in Thee. In the law, which is shadow and letter, let us, the faithful, see a type: every male that openeth the womb is holy to God; wherefore do we magnify the first-born Word, Son of the Father without beginning, and first born of the Mother without husband.

What Is Culture, And How Do We Transform It? Part 3

The Importance of the Liturgy to the Evangelization of American Culture.

This is the third and final article in my series on the Catholic understanding of culture. In the first, I defined culture as the organically emerging pattern of personal interactions that reveal and nurture a society’s core values, and I argued that Christians must fight to infuse it with beauty and love. In the second, I explored how freedom, when rooted in knowledge of the common good and just laws, enables authentic Christian cultures to emerge bottom-up in distinct national expressions, fostering a family of nations that imitate and adapt the best from one another. Here, I turn to the liturgy as the wellspring of faith and culture, describing how right worship, especially through beautiful sacred art, might drive the evangelisation of American society toward a transfigured Christ. As an example of how the liturgy drove cultural change in the past, I use the example of the baroque style that began as sacred art in Italy in the late 16th century with painters such as Caravaggio and Barroci, and then spread across Europe as the dominant style in subjects both sacred and profane, and eventually came to the US, where arguably the last great artist in this glorious Christian style, John Singer Sargent who died in 1925, lived and worked.

Rorate Mass at FSSP Baltimore, photo by Amy Proctor, taken from FSSP.com

As a Christian, I hope for and work towards a society in which the ordering principle of the country in which I live, America, is the transfigured Christ, albeit expressed in a characteristically American way. Even beginning such work requires more than knowledge of the principles of the American Constitution and a love for America, although both would be helpful. It also requires a deep appreciation of the cultural milieu from which the Constitution and the principles of the American republic emerged.

How do we form people capable of contributing to this change? Education is important; I have devoted much of my work to it for this reason. But once again, the greatest contribution that each of us can make is to play our own part in being a model citizen, that is, relating to others as good Americans and good Christians (or as one who imitates the way of good Christians, if you are not a Christian).

How can we do this?

It is the Church’s worship, the Sacred Liturgy, that is the most powerful influence on the transmission and retention of the Christian faith among its members. It is through right worship, therefore, that we will become the people who can transform society. For Catholics in particular, this means a liturgically centered spirituality with the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours at its heart. The Church Fathers articulate this principle of the preeminence of worship in retaining and transmitting faith with the phrase lex orandi, lex credendi, which means ‘rule of prayer, rule of faith’. This phrase conveys the principle that our prayers, especially those in the liturgy (the highest form of prayer), most strongly shape our beliefs.

People today, who likely have never heard of the phrase lex orandi, lex credendi, nevertheless instinctively know how important worship is to the Christian faith. This is why fights over the content and style of the liturgy are so emotional and, at times, embittered. This is not a sideshow; it does matter. It is the primary battleground in the fight for Christian faith and Christian culture. Many of those who hate the Church know this, too, and will do all they can to undermine the freedom to worship God and to introduce ugliness and distortion into the culture of worship.

In summary, if we accept that the liturgy has the most significant influence on our faith, and that our faith has the most significant impact on culture, then we can see that it is the liturgy (rather than, for example, socio-economic factors) that has the most significant positive influence on the broader culture. Other factors can influence it too, but authentic worship, as the most powerful influence, is considered the wellspring of Christian culture, and its primary influencer is Christ Himself.

Visual art plays a vital role in our worship.

The fine arts - high culture - are not matters to be considered only by aesthetes; they play a vital role in the well-being of the Church and, therefore, of society as a whole. The Church understands this and teaches that good sacred art, where my personal interest lies, along with liturgical music and church architecture, is an essential part of our worship. Thus, beautiful and dignified liturgy, along with art forms in harmony with it, is a constant need for the well-being of the Church and all Christian nations.

The Purpose of Art

Once we accept the centrality of the liturgy in governing our lives, this informs our understanding of the purpose of art. The purpose of art is to inspire and inform our worship of God, liturgical art, first, and then the whole of our Christian lives, mundane or profane art.

It has been said that all the great art movements began on the altar. This saying suggests that when we get the liturgical arts right, their form and beauty will inform all other art. When we get it right, this will happen naturally and organically in the proper order of things. This is why the liturgy is the wellspring of all Catholic culture.

We can see examples of this. For example, Baroque art originated in Italy as a style of sacred art in the late 16th century, exemplified by painters such as Caravaggio and Federico Barocci.

Federico Barocci, The Circumcision of Christ, 1590

Once established, the baroque style of sacred art quickly became the template for non-religious art. In addition to liturgical and devotional art, Baroque artists also painted portraits, landscapes, and still-lifes. Such was the beauty of these works that artists across Europe started to imitate it. Catholics, such as the Flemish painter Rubens, the Frenchman De La Tour, and the Spaniard Velázquez, adopted it; Protestants also sought to paint in this style. Rembrandt and the Dutch masters were inspired by the new Italian style of Catholic sacred art, which influenced their approach to painting.

Rembrandt, Portrait of a Woman, 17th century 

The great beauty of baroque art, not forceful arguments made by elites in universities, persuaded patrons to commission works in this style. The same effect was observed in music and architecture, and through this organic spread, the culture of 17th-century Europe became universally baroque, and its style always spoke in some way of Christ, even when the subject depicted was something more mundane.

In England at this time, King Charles 1 recruited Rubens’s most outstanding student, Anthony (later Sir Anthony) Van Dyck, to be the court painter. The long-standing English school of portraiture, with great figures of the 18th century such as Sir Joshua Reynolds and Gainsborough, was descended from Van Dyck’s portraiture.

Portrait by Anthony Van Dyck, made in 1616, when the artist was only 17 years old. 

This, in turn, influenced American painters such as Gilbert Stuart, who adopted the English style, and is now known especially for his portraits of George Washington. 

The Skater, also known as the Portrait of William Grant, by Gilbert Stuart, 1782

The influence persisted until the 20th century. In my opinion, the last great painter in the Baroque style was an American who died in 1925, John Singer Sargent.

A portrait of the French composer Gabriel Fauré, by John Singer Sargent

The culture that created this great art form was Catholic, but both Catholic and Protestant Christian cultures sustained it. By the time Sargent died, contemporary culture was moving in a different direction, away from Christianity, and the style of modern art followed suit.

To transform American culture, therefore, we American Christians, and particularly Catholic Christians, must worship well, draw others to our faith by our conduct and our love for those with whom we interact personally, and strive for art forms that connect with good worship. The most beautiful art forms that emerge from this will eventually dominate because their beauty will persuade all Christians to adopt them. It will be a supply-side process! This will then become the driving force for a new, contemporary culture that is informed by and speaks to the faith and values of Christianity in a uniquely American way.

In the Office of Readings, one of the Hours of the Divine Office, on the Feast of the Epiphany, the second reading is from a sermon by Pope St Leo the Great. The passage closes with the following words:

‘Dear friends, you must have the same zeal to help one another; then, in the kingdom of God, to which faith and good works are the way, you will shine as children of the light: through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with God the Father and the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen.’

Our lives and our whole life’s work—and art is part of this—must participate in this Light. If we can move even partially towards this ideal, the effect will be irresistible. In America, as in every nation, it is our Christian worship that drives us forward to the Light and transforms us into people of the Light.

The Five Prayers of the Candlemas Blessing and the Five Books of Moses

The Gospel of the feast of the Purification, St Luke 2, 22-32, says in its first verse that the Christ Child was presented in the temple in Jerusalem “according to the Law of Moses.” This refers to Leviticus 12, which states that “(i)f a woman having received seed shall bear a man child, she shall be unclean seven days … and on the eighth day the infant shall be circumcised, but she shall remain three and thirty days in the blood of her purification. … And when the days of her purification are expired, … she shall bring to the door of the tabernacle of the testimony, a lamb of a year old for a holocaust, and a young pigeon or a turtledove for sin, and shall deliver them to the priest, who shall offer them before the Lord, and shall pray for her…” In the Tridentine reform of the Roman Breviary, this chapter was made the second and third reading of Matins on February 2nd.

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple, 1620, by the Flemish painter Cornelis de Vos (1584-1621). Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

From the very beginning, as the Church wrestled with the question of whether the observances of the Mosaic law remained valid for its members, one of the strongest arguments in favor of them was that Christ Himself, who said that “not one jot or tittle should pass away from the Law” (Matt. 5, 18), had observed them. The Church Fathers, therefore, emphasize that He did so in order to indicate to us the true meaning of the Law of Moses, as a prefiguration of the new Law of the Gospel. In the mid-3rd century, the great Biblical scholar and commenter Origen, who was very influential on subsequent generations of the Fathers, writes that Christ “ ‘was made under the Law to redeem those who were under the Law’, and subject them to another Law.” (Homily 14 on Luke, citing Gal. 4, 5) In St Ambrose’s time, the Presentation of Christ in the temple was celebrated on January 1st along with the Circumcision, and he comments on this passage of St Luke, “he that is circumcised of vices was judged worthy of the sight of the Lord… you see that the whole succession of the old Law was a figure of the future, for even circumcision signifies the purification of sins.” (Exposition on the Gospel of Luke, II, 56)

St Cyril of Alexandria also comments on the two episodes, the Circumcision and Presentation, at the same time. “(T)oday we have seen Him obedient to the laws of Moses, or rather we have seen Him Who as God is the Legislator, subject to His own decrees…” But the sacrifice of the birds that accompanied the latter has a mystical significance. “The (turtledove)... is the noisiest of the birds of the field: but the (pigeon) is a mild and gentle creature. And such did the Savior of all become towards us, showing the most perfect gentleness, and like a turtledove moreover soothing the world, and filling His own vineyard, even us who believe in Him, with the sweet sound of His voice. For it is written in the Song of Songs, ‘The voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.’ (Cant. 2, 12) For Christ has spoken to us the divine message of the Gospel, which is for the salvation of the whole world.” (Sermon III on the Gospel of St Luke, ad finem.)

Finally, we may note the words of St Bede the Venerable, that neither Christ nor His Mother were subject to the conditions of the Law. Moses writes that a woman shall do these things when “she has received seed,” and borne a child, to distinguish from Her that conceived and bore a Son as a Virgin. Christ “was free from the condition of the Law, but deigned to accept it for this reason, that He might approve it as holy, just and good, and by the grace of Faith, free us from the service and fear thereof.” (Exposition on the Gospel of Luke, Liber I in cap. 2)

In the Byzantine Rite, the feast of the Purification is called “the Meeting of the Lord with Simeon”, and the liturgical texts of the feast lay great emphasis on Christ as the giver of the Law which He obeys, and from the observance of which He then releases the Church. This hymn from Vespers typifies the motif: “Today Simeon receiveth the Lord of glory in his arms, even He whom Moses saw of old beneath the darkness on Mount Sinai, giving him the tablets. This is the One who spoke in the Prophets, and the Maker of the Law; this is the One whom David proclaimeth, feared of all, that hath great and rich mercy.”

A painting in the cathedral of Holy Wisdom in Kyiv, Ukraine, based on Proverbs 9, 1-11, the first words of which are written in Greek on the building’s cornice. God the Father, with the seven great archangels to either side sends the Holy Spirit down upon the Virgin Mary, who stands in the middle of Wisdom’s house, with the Christ Child in a halo on Her chest, the icon type known as the “Virgin of the Sign.” The steps ascending towards Her are labelled “Faith (cut off by the frame), Hope, Love, Purity, Humility, Grace, Glory”; to the left are shown David, Aaron, and closest to Her, Moses, to the right, the four Major Prophets. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Several other texts on the feast and during its Afterfeast (the Byzantine equivalent of an octave) refer to the darkness that enveloped Mt Sinai when Moses went up to receive the Law, which is implicitly contrasted with the “light unto the revelation of the gentiles” of which Simeon speaks in the Nunc dimittis. Thus, the old Law, including the rites of circumcision and the sacrifice of purification, was revealed in darkness, and applicable only to the Jewish people. But it was intended to serve as a figure of the new Law, in which circumcision is replaced with baptism, which is applicable to all, “male and female, Jew and Gentile.” And thus, the feast on January 6th, which celebrates the Baptism of the Lord, is called the Theophany, but also simply “the lights.”

The Roman Rite prefers great simplicity and subtlety in its rhetoric. In the context of this feast, it asserts this relationship between the Lawgiver and the Law, and the passage from the Old Law to the New, through the five prayers of the candle blessing, each of which refers, in order, to one of the five books of the Law of Moses.

The first prayer, corresponding to Genesis, begins with the words “Lord, … who created all things from nothing…”, a reference to the creation of the world. This also explains the statement that candles are made for the use of men, and the health of their body and souls, “whether on land or at sea”, since Moses’ account of creation includes the division of the land from the waters, and the creation of man “as a living soul.” (Gen. 2, 7) This is the only one of the five prayers that mentions the Virgin Mary, the new Eve; it asks for the prayers of “all Thy Saints”, perhaps in reference to the holy Patriarchs of the Old Testament. The last part asks that that God “be merciful to all those who cry out to Thee, whom Thou hast redeemed by the precious blood of Thy Son”, a reference to the blood of the just Abel that cries to God from the earth.

The second prayer, which corresponds to Exodus, states that the faithful received the blessed candles “unto the magnificence of Thy name.” This refers to the Canticle of Moses in chapter 15, a passage familiar to all Christians from its presence among the prophecies of the Easter vigil. “Let us sing to the Lord: for he is gloriously magnified… The Lord is my strength and my praise, and he is become salvation to me: he is my God and I will glorify him: the God of my father, and I will exalt him. The Lord is as a man of war, Almighty is his name.”

(Exodus 14, 24 -15, 1, followed by the Tract from chapter 15, verses 1 and 2, sung at the vigil of Pentecost.)

The third prayer corresponds to Leviticus, and asks that the faithful may “be without the blindness of all vices, so that… we may be able to see those things which are pleasing to Thee and useful to our salvation.” This refers to the Church’s distinction between the perennially valid precepts of the moral law contained in Leviticus, and in the Law generally, and the ritual prescriptions to which She is no longer bound. Notice also here the contrast between light and darkness of which the Byzantine liturgy speaks: “so that after the dark ‘discrimina’ (both ‘hazards’ and ‘decisions’) of this age, we may merit to come to the light unfailing.”

The fourth prayer begins with a reference to God’s command to Moses to prepare oil for the lights that burn before Him in the tabernacle of the covenant. In St Jerome’s Latin translation of the Hebrew Bible, this is mentioned three times in Exodus, and twice more in Numbers, the fourth book of the Law, with the verb “concinnare – to make, prepare”, which is also used in this prayer. The prayer that “the light of Thy spirit not be lacking inwardly to our minds” refers, perhaps, to the sharing of Moses’ spirit with the seventy elders of Israel described in chapter 11.

Finally, the fifth prayer, which corresponds to Deuteronomy, asks that we may be “enlightened and taught by the Holy Spirit.” This refers to the canticle of Moses in chapter 32, which begins with the words, “Let my doctrine gather as the rain, … I will invoke the name of the Lord: give ye magnificence to our God.” At the Easter vigil, after these words are sung in the Tract after the eleventh prophecy, the Church states in the prayer that follows that God “willed to teach the people by the singing of His holy song.” The prayer concludes with the petition that “we may truly know and faithfully love” God, a reference to the words of chapter 6, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole strength.” This commandment appears nowhere else in the Law of Moses, and is, of course, commended by the Lord Himself as the first and greatest commandment. (Matt. 22, 37)

The Station Churches of Septuagesima

The institution of the three Sundays before Lent, Septuagesima, Sexagesima and Quinquagesima, is attributed to Pope Saint Gregory the Great, who reigned from 590 to 604. The plague which killed his predecessor, St Pelagius II, and lead to his election, was only one in a long series of disasters that befell the city of Rome and the Italian peninsula in the course of the sixth century. Constant warfare between the Goths, the Lombards and the Byzantines had brought to ruins much of the former Capital of the World, which in Gregory’s time was also largely abandoned. In the year 546, the Gothic king Totila had expelled most of the inhabitants from the city; small numbers of people returned, but the city would not be properly re-populated for centuries. The introit of the first of these Sundays, Septuagesima, reflects the turbulent and mournful age in which it was composed: “The groans of death have surrounded me, the pains of death have surrounded me, and in my tribulation I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice from His holy temple.” The theme of calling upon the Lord in a time of tribulation is repeated frequently though the Masses of these Sundays.

The station churches of this pre-Lenten period comprise a series of visits to the tombs of the major patrons of Rome, invoking their aid and protection for the beleaguered city. On Septuagesima, the station is kept at the church of Saint-Lawrence-outside-the-Walls, built over the tomb of the famous deacon and martyr. On Sexagesima, the station is at Saint-Paul’s-outside-the-Walls, and on Quinquagesima at Saint Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, both of which have the tombs of the Apostles for whom they are named under the main altar. On the following Sunday, the first of Lent, the station is at the cathedral of Rome, the Archbasilica of the Most Holy Savior, commonly called Saint John in the Lateran. The stations of the pre-Lenten period therefore repeat those of the Easter octave in reverse order: Saint John on the Easter vigil, Saint Peter on Easter Monday, Saint Paul on Tuesday and Saint Lawrence on Wednesday. The station at Mary Major for the feast of the Purification, which often falls within the season of Septuagesima, corresponds to the same stational observance on Easter Sunday.

The epistles of the three Masses are chosen in reference to the station churches. On Septuagesima, St Paul compares the Christian life to the athletic contests of the ancient Romans: “but they contend for a corruptible crown, we for an incorruptible one.” (1 Cor. 9, 24 – 10, 5) From the earliest times, the martyrs have been called the ‘athletae – champions or combatants’ of Christ par excellence, and the word ‘athleta’ is used in countless liturgical Offices. The symbol of victory in the Roman athletic stadium, the palm branch, is still used as a symbol of martyrdom; this epistle is therefore fittingly read at the tomb of St Lawrence. Over the course of Lent, stations will be kept at four different churches dedicated to this most renowned among Rome’s many martyrs; a great many other churches and chapels, including the private chapel of the Papal household, were dedicated to him in the Middle Ages.

The entrance to the tomb of Saint Lawrence at San Lorenzo fuori le Mura

The epistle of Sexagesima is the longest Sunday epistle of the year. (2 Cor. 11, 19 – 12, 9) The collect of this Mass is one of two in the temporal cycle that refer to the Saint in whose honor the stational church is dedicated; it may have been borrowed from a group of collects originally used on the Commemoration of Saint Paul on June 30th, also celebrated with a station at his church. At the tomb of Saint Paul, the Church reads his lengthy apologia for his works as an Apostle, in which he recalls the sufferings he has undergone in his mission to proclaim the Gospel. In the Ambrosian rite, this same epistle is read on the feast of Saints Peter and Paul on June 29th; the church of Milan seems to have borrowed this reading from the Mass of Sexagesima. (Pictured right - Ss Peter and Paul, by El Greco; 1590-1600)

On Quinquagesima, although the station is at St Peter’s, the epistle is not taken from either of his Biblical letters; rather, the so-called Hymn of Charity from the first Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians is read. (chapter 13) The Vatican is not only the site of Saint Peter’s tomb, but also of his death in the circus of Caligula, in the area on the south side of the Basilica. An ancient tradition tells us that Peter was crucified upside-down at his own request, saying to the Roman executioners that he was unworthy to die in precisely the same manner as the Lord, and wished his cross to be turned so that he might look towards Heaven. This happened in fulfillment of the words of Christ to Peter, “thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another will gird thee, and lead thee where thou wouldst not.” This prophecy was given just after Peter had three times answered the question “Simon, do you love me?” with the answer, “Lord, you know that I love you”, rendering a threefold confession for his threefold denial, as Saint Augustine says. At the place where the sacred relics of the Prince of the Apostles are kept and venerated, it is his fellow Apostle and co-founder of the Roman Church who speaks of the love of God, for the sake of which St. Peter embraced his martyrdom, a stone’s throw away from his tomb.

These same three Roman patron saints, Peter, Paul and Lawrence, were also essential to the transformation of the heart of pagan Rome into a Christian sacred space. The main street of the Roman Forum was called the Via Sacra, the Sacred Way, because it passes by several of the most ancient and notable temples. Close to the Capitoline Hill, from which the great temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus looked down over the city, it comes very close to the Mamertine Prison, where important prisoners awaited judgment and execution. In 141 A.D., the Emperor Antoninus Pius built a new and imposing temple on the Via Sacra about half way through the Forum, in honor of his recently deceased and divinized wife, Faustina; when Antoninus died in 161, he was in due course divinized himself, and added to his wife’s temple.

Saint Justin Martyr and other early Church fathers knew of the tradition that Simon Magus, who sought to buy the power of the Holy Spirit from St. Peter (Acts 8), was in Rome at the same time as the Eternal City’s founding Apostles. The apocryphal Acts of St Peter tell the story that Simon sought to win the Emperor Nero to his teachings, which he would prove to be true by flying off a tower built in the Forum specifically for this purpose. As he was lifted up into the air by the agency of demons, Peter and Paul knelt on the street and prayed to God, whereon Simon was dropped, and soon after died of his injuries.

The Fall of Simon Magus, by Benozzo Gozzoli, 1461-62

The legend goes on to say that the enraged Nero arrested Peter and Paul and threw them into the Mamertine prison before their execution. There they converted the two wardens, Processus and Martinian, in whose acts it is told that St Peter caused a well to spring up from the ground so that he could baptize them. The site has been venerated as the place of the
Apostles’ imprisonment for many centuries, and pilgrims can still visit it to this day; a plaque near the door lists the famous Roman prisoners, such as King Jugurtha of Numidia, who were killed there, the saints who suffered and died within its walls, and the later saints who have come to venerate the site. On the opposite end of the Via Sacra, Pope St. Paul I built an oratory dedicated to Peter and Paul, nicknamed ‘ubi cecidit magus – where the magician fell.’ This oratory contained as its principal relic the stone upon which St. Peter knelt to pray for the defeat of Simon Magus (pictured right) and the vindication of the Christian faith. The oratory was later demolished, but the stone itself is preserved in the nearby church of Santa Maria Nuova. (Photo courtesy of J.P. Sonnen.)

Some of the numerous churches in Rome dedicated to Saint Lawrence are connected with the events of his martyrdom, such as San Lorenzo in Panisperna, which is venerated as the place where he was killed by being grilled over a fire. A tradition of uncertain origin claims that the great deacon-martyr was tried and sentenced to death on the steps of the temple of Antoninus Pius and Faustina. Sometime in the seventh or eighth century, the central part of this temple was complete rebuilt and transformed into a church, called San Lorenzo in Miranda.

The church of San Lorenzo in Miranda, within the temple of Antoninus Pius and Faustina.

The Mamertine, the Oratory of Ss. Peter and Paul, and San Lorenzo in Miranda are not the first Christian sites in the Roman Forum. Indeed, the church of Saints Cosmas and Damian fronts on the Via Sacra, and was dedicated in 527 A.D., less than twenty years before the depopulation of the city. However, Cosmas and Damian, although highly venerated throughout the Christian world, were Arabians, not Romans, and are depicted as such in their church. The later churches discussed here are particularly important, partly because they are on the Via Sacra, but much more so because they are dedicated to three Roman saints, honoring Peter and Paul on either end of the Forum, and Saint Lawrence right in the middle. Regardless of the truth or falsehood of the legends with which they are associated, by the end of the eighth century, the Sacred Way itself had become sacred to Christ, and to the memory of some of His most illustrious and most Roman ‘athletae’.

Nesciens Mater Virgo Virum: A Marian Motet for Christmastide

For the last Saturday of the Christmas season, I wanted to share this splendid recording of a motet which I recently discovered by the Franco-Flemish composter Jean Mouton. It is a setting of a very ancient text which appears in the Roman Breviary as the eighth responsory for the feast of the Circumcision. There is also an equally ancient version of the same words as an antiphon, which is not in the Roman Office, but is found in many other Uses; e.g. at Sarum, it was sung with the Magnificat in the Little Office of Our Lady from Christmas until the Purification.

Nesciens mater Virgo virum peperit sine dolore Salvatorem saeculorum; ipsum Regem angelorum sola Virgo lactabat, ubere de caelo pleno. (The Virgin Mother, knowing not man, bore without pain the Savior of the ages; alone as virgin did She nurse the very King of the angels at a breast made full from heaven.)

Jean Mouton, whose real last name was de Hollinge, was born ca. 1459 in northern France, in the region now known as the Pas-de-Calais; when he was young, he studied music alongside Josquin des Prez. He was ordained a priest around 1483, and served as a chorister and music director in various places, until 1502, when he began to work at the chapel of Queen Anne of Brittany, the wife of King Louis XII of France. Upon her death, he became official composer for the court of King Louis, continuing under his son Francis I until his death in 1522. His body of work includes 15 Masses and over 100 motets. The praise of his friend Josquin spread his reputation in Italy, and he became the second most copied and imitated composer of the period after Josquin himself. This particular piece is known from a manuscript in the Medici library in Florence, a collection of motets which Mouton presented as a wedding gift to Leo X’s nephew Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, in 1518.

Here is another polyphonic version from the mighty Schola Hungarica, sung as an antiphon with Psalm 129, which is sung in alternating chant and polyphony.

A 9th-Century Ambrosian Psalter

Despite the huge number of articles we have published over the years about the Ambrosian Rite, we have shown very few examples of ancient Ambrosian liturgical books, many of which are in libraries where digitization is either going at a snail’s pace, or not at all. So I was very happy to stumble across this Ambrosian Psalter, which is in the Bavarian State Library in Munich, a collection that has been digitized with classically Germanic thoroughness. (BSB Clm 343) The library’s website says that it was produced in Milan, “as early as the last decades of the ninth century”, but Nicola found an Italian website that puts it in the last third of the 10th century. (A friend of ours who knows a lot about liturgical manuscripts thinks the latter more probable.) It was in the library of the dukes of Bavaria by 1580, but it is not known how it got there.

In the Ambrosian Office, there are no psalms at Matins of Sunday. Instead, three canticles from the Old Testament are said; these are placed after the Psalms in this manuscript. At Matins of Saturday, the canticle of Moses in Exodus (15, 1-19) is said, followed by Psalm 118, divided into two sections in winter, but in summer, four, which are said in alternate weeks. (In St Charles Borromeo’s reform, the four-division system is used all year.) The psalms of Roman Matins for the weekly cursus, 1-108, are divided into ten groups called “decuriae”, which are said over the ten ferial days of two weeks; however, unlike in the Roman system, none of the psalms which are used at other Hours (4 at Compline, 50 at Lauds, etc.) are omitted. The first decuria is psalms 1-16, the second, psalms 17-30, then so on by tens. This seems to be why the decorations in the manuscript are placed with the first of each group of ten psalms (1, 11, 21 etc.) although this arrangement only partly corresponds to the decuria system.

At the beginning of the psalter is a portrait of King David, along with four of the people to whom some of the psalms are attributed by their titles, Asaph, Heman, Ethan and Idithun, all shown writing in books.

Many of the psalms have a few lines of exegetical explanation written before them; before Psalm 1 only, this text is written in large caps within a frame: “This psalm has no title for this reason, that nothing ought to be put before our head, the Lord and Savior, of whom it is about to speak, since it (i.e. the psalm) talks about his holy incarnation, and the avenging of the wicked.”

“Here begins the book of Psalms”

The beginning of Psalm 1. As is typical of liturgical books in this period, the decorative elements for the most part have no particular correspondence with the text they accompany.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

St. Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Sun: Conclusion and Concluding Thoughts

Jusepe de Ribera, Saint Francis of Assisi

Lost in Translation #158

Saint Francis ends his Canticle of the Sun with this one-verse stanza:

Laudate et benedicete mi Signore et rengratiate

e seruiteli cum grande humilitate.

Which I translate as:

Praise and bless my Lord, and give Him thanks

And serve Him with great humility.

The verse is an apt summary of the canticle, which is not, as is often thought, a praise of nature. In fact, as the Dutch Franciscan Jan van den Eijnden points out, it is not about nature at all, but about creation, the difference being that you can think about nature without thinking about God, but you cannot think about creation without thinking about the Creator. Francis is not a lover of nature but of creation, and he loves it not for its own sake but because it is the product of his loving Father.

And so, the point of the Canticle of the Sun is to praise and bless God the Creator, and to encourage its reader to serve God with humility. In this respect, the Canticle is identical to several Psalms (148 comes to mind) and the Canticle of the Three Youths in Daniel 3, 56-88. What is distinctive about Francis’ canticle is that it never addresses creation directly but repeatedly tells God that He should be praised through this or that creature. The Old Testament canticles, by contrast, command a list of creatures to praise and bless the Lord, to join together in a cosmic act of worship.

Nor is the content of the canticle so much a radical departure from the Christian worldview as a particularly vivid expression of it. Catholic thought initially sounds like a contradiction, for it combines a contempt for the world with a care for creation. What is meant by “the world,” however, are the man-made values that give us false promises of happiness, promises that often lead to an exploitation of nature. Contempt for the world, then, actually fosters care for creation, which is seen as a duty of stewardship. And creation is valued because it is a divine sign that eloquently points to God.

Bacon, Hobbes, Locke, and Hume

Modernity, on the other hand, is the photographic negative of this Christian formula, encouraging a contempt for creation and a care for worldly success. Beginning in the sixteenth century, philosophers like Machiavelli and Hobbes portrayed nature as something that needed to be beaten into submission through technological domination. It was only a matter of time before the technology caught up with this ideology, leaving us the world in which we live today.

It was in response to this situation that Pope Francis wrote his encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si’. The title is taken from a recurring phrase in Francis’ Canticle of the Sun (laudato si’ means “praised be”), and since Saint Francis wrote in the Umbrian dialect of Italian, the encyclical holds the distinction of being the only one that does not have a Latin title. But comparing the two compositions is a game of apples and oranges, for the goals of each are different. Pope Francis’ encyclical is diatribic in tone and consists largely of socio-political criticisms, such as a condemnation of “disposable culture” and the use of air conditioning. The Canticle of the Sun, on the other hand, is laudatory in tone and was intended by Saint Francis to praise God, console himself, and edify his neighbor about his eternal destiny. And the Saint succeeded. For centuries, the Canticle of the Sun has inspired the Franciscan community of friars and sisters and Third-Order members to be good stewards of creation as an act of divine praise, and it has helped them serve the Lord with great humility and die in a state of grace.

This article originally appeared as “Call to Humility” in the Messenger of St. Anthony 127:12, international edition (December 2025), p. 15. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

Two Ambrosian Saints

On the Ambrosian calendar, today is the feast of a martyr of the early 11th century called Aquilinus, who was born to a noble family in Würzburg, Bavaria, and ordained a priest after studying in the cathedral school of Cologne. Shortly thereafter, his parents both died, and he returned home to distribute his inheritance to the poor; when he returned to Cologne, the bishop died, and Aquilinus was unanimously elected to replace him by the cathedral chapter, an honor which he refused (like so many saintly bishops) by fleeing, in this case, to Paris. There he was also elected bishop on account of his evident holiness, and so he fled again, this time to northern Italy, and after passing through Pavia, came to Milan to venerate the relics of St Ambrose, to whom he was greatly devoted.

Aquilinus distinguished himself, in one of the more decadent periods of the Church’s life, in his defense of the Catholic Faith against both the Cathars, and some local form of renascent Arianism. In the year 1015 or 1018, he was attacked by heretics while making his way to the basilica of St Ambrose, stabbed in the throat, and his body thrown into a canal. An old tradition has it that a group of workmen who transported merchandise along the Ticino river between Pavia and Milan found the body, and brought it to the nearby basilica of San Lorenzo Maggiore, one of the oldest churches in the city. They were placed in the chapel of St Genesius, which was henceforth named for Aquilinus.

The first attestation of the life of St Aquilinus dates to 1465, when a confraternity named for him was established; his cultus was formally approved by the Holy See in 1469, and his feast appears in the Ambrosian Missal of 1475 on January 29. In 1581, St Charles Borromeo declared him co-patron of the city of Milan, especially to be invoked against the plague. He is traditionally shown dressed as a priest, with a dagger at his throat and the palm of martyrdom in his hand. His remains are now in an urn of silver and rock crystal on top of the altar in which they were formerly buried. Until the 19th century, it was the custom in Milan for movers and transporters to hold a procession in his honor every year on the feast day, in which they would offer candles and a flask of oil for the votive lamp before his relics.

Tomorrow is the feast of a matron called St Savina. She was born in Milan to the noble family of the Valerii in the 260s, and as an adult, married to a patrician from the nearby town of Laus Pompeia, now called Lodi. She was soon left a widow, and dedicated herself to the works of religion and charity, especially on behalf of the victims of the Emperor Diocletian’s persecution of the Christians. In her own house, she secretly buried the martyrs Ss Nabor and Felix, two soldiers of the Theban Legion who were decapitated at Lodi around 300-304. Once the persecution had ceased, in the year 310, she brought their relics to Milan, where they were laid to rest in the chapel of the Valerii. Some years later, after spending her life in vigils and prayers, Savina herself died, and was buried next to the martyrs. In 1798, the relics of all three Saints were translated to the basilica of St Ambrose in Milan; since 1868, they have been kept on the altar of a chapel dedicated to them within the basilica.

A reliquary of St Savina, together with St Bassianus, the first bishop of Lodi.

According to a traditional story, when Savina brought the relics of the martyrs to Milan, she hid them in a barrel. While passing through a place between Lodi and Milan, some soldiers who were guarding the city gates asked what was in it, she told them it was full of honey. The guards insisted on checking inside, and when they opened the barrel, did indeed see nothing but honey, and she was allowed to continue on her way. This place, just over ten miles southeast of Milan, is now called Melegnano, from the Latin word for honey, “mel.”

This post is the work of Nicola de’ Grandi, translated by myself.

St Ambrose’s Hymn for St Agnes

In honor of the Second Feast of St Agnes, which is kept today in the Roman Rite, here is one of the very first Western hymns ever written in her honor, a work of St Ambrose (♰397). The Ambrosian Rite does not keep the Second Feast, but uses this hymn at both Vespers and Lauds of St Agnes on January 21st. It was never previously adopted at Rome itself, but in the post-Conciliar Liturgy of the Hours, it is assigned to Lauds.

Most of the translation given here is by Kathleen Pluth. Hers was done for the Liturgy of the Hours, which omits the half or whole of several of Ambrose’s original stanzas. These omitted parts are printed in italics, as is the accompanying prose translation, my own, very much inferior work. The recording has the whole of the original text.

Agnes, beatae virginis, natalis est, quo spiritum caelo refudit debitum, pio sacrata sanguine	The blessed virgin Agnes flies back to her home above the skies. With love she gave her blood on earth to gain a new celestial birth.
Matura martyrio fuit, matura nondum nuptiis; nutabat in viris fides, cedebat et fessus senex.	Mature enough to give her life, though still too young to be a wife, the faith wavered in the men, and the tired old man yielded.
Metu parentes territi claustrum pudoris auxerant; solvit fores custodia fides teneri nescia.	Her parents struck with fear, had increased guards of her virtue; the guardians open the doors, knowing not how to keep to their duty.
Prodire quis nuptum putet; sic laeta vultu ducitur, novas viro ferens opes, dotata censu sanguinis.	what joy she shows when death appears that one would think: her bridegroom nears! bringing new riches to her Husband endowed with the price of blood.
Aras nefandi numinis adolere taedis cogitur, respondet: Haud tales faces sumpsere Christi virgines;	Her captors lead her to the fire but she refuses their desire, “For it is not such smold’ring brands Christ’s virgins take into their hands.”
Hic ignis extinguit fidem, haec flamma lumen eripit: hic, hic ferite, ut profluo cruore restinguam focos.	“This flaming fire of pagan rite extinguishes all faith and light. Then stab me here, so that the flood may overcome this hearth in blood.”
Percussa quam pompam tulit! Nam veste se totam tegens, curam pudoris praestitit, ne quis retectam cerneret.	Courageous underneath the blows, her death a further witness shows, she took care of her modesty lest anyone see her uncovered.
In morte vivebat pudor, vultumque texerat manu; terram genu flexo petit, lapsu verecundo cadens.	In death, her modesty lived, and she covered her face with her hand, for as she falls she bends her knee and wraps her robes in modesty.
Gloria tibi, Domine, gloria Unigenito, una cum sancto Spiritu in sempiterna sæcula. Amen.	O Virgin-born, all praises be to You throughout eternity, and unto everlasting days to Father and the Spirit, praise. Amen.

The meter which St Ambrose uses here, the iambic dimeter, has eight syllables per line. The very first word of this hymn, “Agnes”, should be in the genitive (possessive) form “Agnetis”, but that would make for nine syllables. He therefore treats “Agnes” as if it were a Greek genitive ending in -es, from “Agne”, which means “holy, pure”, and is very frequently used in the Byzantine liturgy to refer to the Virgin Mary. The Ambrosian Breviary changed the line to the more Latin “Agnetis almae virginis.”

Kathleen Pluth has done over 150 versions of Latin hymns into English poetry, for the Adoremus Bulletin, Magnificat, and Word on Fire’s Liturgy of the Hours; this one was originally published in a collection of the lives of young Saints: Radiate: More Stories of Daring Teen Saints. (It was also published on one of our sister sites, the Chant Café.) She has a license in Sacred Theology, and was formerly director of sacred music in a large parish and separately in a classical school. Our thanks to her for sharing her work on NLM.

The Question of the Traditional Mass in Pope Leo XIV’s Pontificate

A guest article by the Canon of Shaftesbury, who serves as a canonist in a major archdiocese.

We find ourselves in the early days of Pope Leo XIV’s pontificate, and there are reasons for cautious optimism. Several signs suggest that the Holy Father wishes to address some of the more pressing challenges inherited from his predecessor.

Among these is the thorny question of access to the Traditional Latin Mass (what was once called the Extraordinary Form or Tridentine Mass) and the restrictions imposed by Traditiones Custodes.

I approach this question with the disposition we ought to have toward any successor of Peter: giving the benefit of the doubt, assuming good faith, and trusting in his pastoral intentions. Thus far, I do not detect in Pope Leo XIV any ill will toward those attached to the Traditional Mass. Yet good intentions alone do not guarantee wise policy, and two proposals currently being discussed as potential ‘solutions’ to the current impasse give me serious pause. Both, I would argue, fail to address the underlying problems and may even compound them.

The Ordinariate Proposal: A Gilded Cage

The first proposal involves creating some form of personal ordinariate to oversee communities attached to the Traditional Mass. This has a certain administrative logic to it: provide a dedicated structure, remove these communities from the direct oversight of potentially hostile diocesan bishops, and create a stable canonical framework for their existence.

But this apparent solution conceals a fundamental problem: it would create a liturgical ghetto. The genius of Pope Benedict XVI’s Summorum Pontificum was precisely that it refused this ghettoization. Pope Benedict recognized the Traditional Mass not as some exotic rite requiring special permissions and separate hierarchical structures, but as part of the Roman Rite itself: never abrogated, always legitimate, and available as a right to the faithful and to priests. The ordinary-extraordinary form distinction was meant to emphasize continuity, not division. It acknowledged that the Church prays in two forms of the same rite, both equally Roman, both equally Catholic.

An ordinariate structure, by contrast, would effectively declare: ‘This Mass is so problematic, so divisive, so other, that it cannot exist within normal diocesan structures.’ It would enshrine in canon law the very separation that Pope Benedict sought to overcome. Worse still, it would do nothing to address the problem of hostile bishops. In fact, it might embolden them. A bishop who has shown himself ungenerous—or outright antagonistic—toward the faithful attached to the Traditional Mass would simply have his prejudices validated: ‘See, these people and their liturgy are so different they need their own separate structure. They don’t really belong here.’

The faithful would be protected, perhaps, but at the cost of being formally marginalized. This is not a solution; it is an institutionalized retreat.

The “Reform of the Reform”: Necessary but Insufficient

The second proposal focuses on improving celebrations of the Novus Ordo; what is often called the ‘reform of the reform.’ Proponents argue that if the Ordinary Form were celebrated with greater reverence, solemnity, and attention to the sacred, many of the concerns driving people toward the Traditional Mass would dissipate.

This is not entirely wrong. Much of what ails Catholic liturgy today stems not from the Novus Ordo itself in its official form, but from the liberties, innovations, and abuses that have become routine in its celebration. A more reverent Novus Ordo: celebrated ad orientem, with Gregorian chant, in Latin where appropriate, with careful attention to rubrics, etc. This would undoubtedly be a vast improvement over what many Catholics experience on a typical Sunday.

But this approach, while laudable, does not go far enough. It treats the problem as primarily one of implementation when there are also questions of structure and theology embedded in the rite itself.

The Novus Ordo was not the product of organic liturgical development but of committee design. This is not a polemical claim but a historical fact. The post-Vatican II liturgical reform, whatever its intentions, created a rite that was substantially different from what preceded it; not through the gradual, Spirit-guided evolution that characterized liturgical development for centuries, but through deliberate committee construction in a remarkably short period of time.

Pope Benedict XVI himself was deeply aware of this problem. In his writings both as Cardinal Ratzinger and as Pope, he expressed concerns about the rupture in liturgical continuity and the dangers of treating the liturgy as something we construct rather than something we receive. His whole project in Summorum Pontificum was, in part, to restore that sense of organic continuity.

More troubling still is the way the Novus Ordo, in its typical celebration, places the priest at the center of the liturgical action. The structure of the rite, particularly when celebrated versus populum, tends to make the priest’s personality, choices, and even charisma central to the experience. The priest becomes, whether he wishes it or not, a kind of performer. The liturgy becomes, to a troubling degree, his creation.

This is not to say that priests celebrating the Novus Ordo are acting in bad faith or that Christ cannot be encountered there; of course He can and is. But the structure of the rite makes the centrality of Christ dependent on the priest’s willingness and ability to efface himself, to suppress his own personality, to resist the temptation to innovate or ‘personalize’ the liturgy.

In the Traditional Mass, by contrast, the priest’s personality is structurally suppressed. Facing the same direction as the people, following a more fixed and detailed rubrical structure, praying large portions of the Mass quietly, the priest becomes almost anonymous; a mediator rather than a protagonist. Christ is at the center not because the priest is particularly holy or particularly skilled, but because the structure of the rite itself directs all attention away from the priest and toward the altar, toward the sacrifice, toward the Lord.

It is no accident that so many churches built or renovated in the Novus Ordo era look like stadiums or auditoriums rather than sacred spaces. If the liturgy is fundamentally about what the priest does, about the community’s celebration, about active participation understood primarily as external activity, then the architectural logic follows: create a space where everyone can see the action, where the priest is visible and audible to all, where the focus is on the human gathering rather than on the divine presence.

A more reverent celebration of the Novus Ordo can mitigate some of these problems, but it cannot fully overcome them without structural changes so substantial that we would be, in effect, creating a different rite.

The Pastoral Ends

The real solution is not complicated, though it requires courage and perhaps a willingness to disappoint certain constituencies who have grown attached to the restrictions of Traditiones Custodes. The solution is to return to the dispensation of Summorum Pontificum. Pope Benedict’s motu proprio was wise precisely because it addressed all the problems that the current proposals fail to solve:

1. It dealt with hostile bishops. By establishing that priests have a right to celebrate the Traditional Mass without needing episcopal permission, and that faithful have a right to request it, Pope Benedict removed the question from the realm of episcopal whim and placed it on firmer canonical ground. A bishop could not simply forbid what the universal law of the Church permitted.

2. It refused ghettoization. By insisting on the ordinary-extraordinary form distinction, Pope Benedict kept the Traditional Mass within the normal life of dioceses and parishes. It was not an exotic import requiring special structures, but part of the Church’s living tradition.

3. It respected the freedom of the faithful. Pope Benedict understood that the faithful have a right (not merely a privilege) to access the Church’s liturgical heritage. The liturgy is not the property of bishops or popes to manipulate at will, but a sacred trust handed down through generations.

4. It created space for mutual enrichment. Pope Benedict hoped that the two forms of the Roman Rite would enrich each other: that the reverence and sacral character of the old would influence the new, while the new rite would encourage Catholics to engage actively with the liturgy, to better understand the texts, and to participate vocally in their appointed parts. These devotional habits, once cultivated, naturally enhance one’s experience of the traditional rite as well. But for this enrichment to work, it requires proximity, not separation.

Conclusion

Pope Leo XIV faces a difficult situation, and I do not envy him the task of navigating these troubled liturgical waters. But the path forward should not require novel structures or half-measures. Pope Benedict XVI, in his wisdom, already showed us the way. Summorum Pontificum was not perfect (no merely human legislation ever is) but it was fundamentally sound in its principles and generous in its pastoral vision.

What is needed now is not innovation but restoration: restoration of the freedom Pope Benedict granted, restoration of trust in the faithful, restoration of confidence that the Church is big enough to hold both forms of her Roman liturgical tradition without one threatening the other.

The Traditional Mass is not a problem to be managed or a crisis to be solved. It is a gift to be received, a treasure to be preserved, and a heritage to be passed on. The sooner we return to treating it as such, the sooner we can move past these exhausting controversies and return to the real work of the Church: the sanctification of souls and the worship of Almighty God.