The Vigil of the Nativity of St John the Baptist

Truly it is worthy and just, right and profitable to salvation, that we should give Thee thanks always and everywhere, o Lord, holy Father, almighty and everlasting God, holding the solemn fast, by which we anticipate the birth of blessed John the Baptist. Whose father, when he doubted the message of God’s word that he was to be born, was deprived of the use of his voice, and received it back when he was born; who grew silent when he did not believe the Angel’s promise, but at the birth of the glorious herald, gained his speech and became a prophet. And likewise his mother, being sterile and worn by old age, did not only become fruitful in childbearing, but was also filled with the Holy Spirit, so that she might receive the fruit of the Blessed Mary with a blessing with eager voice. And himself that was begotten, as the one who shows the way to heaven, urged that the way of the Lord be prepared, and being lately conceived and brought forth in the last age of his parents, proclaimed that the Redeemer of the human race would be born in the last times. (An ancient preface for the vigil of the Nativity of St John the Baptist, first attested in the oldest surviving collection of Roman liturgical texts, the so-called Leonine Sacramentary.)

The Annunciation to Zachariah, 1300-10, by the Italian painter Deodato Orlandi, 1265-1330 ca. (All images from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, public domain or CC BY 3.0) 

VD: exhibentes sollemne jejunium, quo beati Johannis baptistae natalicia praevenimus. Cujus genitor et verbi Dei nuntium dubitans nasciturum vocis est privatus officio, et eodem recepit nascente sermonem; quique Angelo promittente dum non credit obmutuit, magnifici praeconis exortu et loquens factus est et profeta: materque pariter sterilis aevoque confecta non solum puerperio fecunda processit, sed etiam, quo beatae Mariae fructum sedula voce benedictione susciperet, spiritu divinitatis impleta est; ipseque progenitus, utpote viae caelestis adsertor, viam domino monuit praeparari, seraque in suprema parentum aetate concretus et editus, procreandum novissimis temporibus humani generis disseruit redemptorem.

The panel shown above is one of six images of the life of St John the Baptist, by a painter called Deodato Orlandi, who was active in the area of Pisa and Lucca, between 1284 and his death in roughly 1330; almost nothing is known of his life. The panels are now in the Gemäldegallerie in Berlin. As is the case with most Italian painters of his era and region, his work is heavily influenced by the style of Byzantine icons; this is especially noticeable in the gold striations in the robes, and the gold backgrounds. It will be his contemporary Giotto (1267-1337) whose style will create a strong impetus to move away from this to a more naturalistic style, in which the sense of space is created by, e.g., variations in the shades of color within the robes, and the use of blue backgrounds to represent the sky.

The Visitation

The Birth of the Baptist

The imposition of the name John.

John preaching to the crowds in the desert.

The Last Judgment; the classic medieval arrangement of this motif puts the Virgin Mary to Christ’s right (our left) as the greatest of all the Saints, and John the Baptist on the opposite side, as the second greatest, him of whom the Lord said, “Greater man hath not been born of woman.”

Historical Videos of Corpus Christi Processions

Every year around the feast of Corpus Christi, videos of this sort pop up on Facebook and elsewhere; here are a few of the more interesting ones I have spotted , starting with some footage from Vietnam in 1962.

From the archives of British Pathé, a report on the Corpus Christi Procession in Cologne, Germany, from 1947.

Another from Liverpool, 1934.

And some unedited footage, without soundtrack, of a procession held sometime during WW1.

Sacred Treasures of Rome - New Album from London Oratory Schola

Sacred Treasures of Rome is a new recording from the boys of the London Oratory Schola directed by Charles Cole, and focuses on Palestrina in this, his quincentennial year, as well as other composers working in his orbit in Rome.

The London Oratory Schola is an all-boys choir with an average age of fourteen across the four voice parts. The album includes some of the great iconic motets by Palestrina such as Tu es Petrus, Sicut cervus, and Dum complerentur.

One thing which many of the composers on the disc share was a connection with St Philip Neri. In particular a motet is included by Giovanni Animuccia, who was one of St Philip’s brother priests during the early beginnings of the Oratory at San Girolamo della Carità. Much of Animuccia’s music has been lost, aside from some beautiful editions of his three masses and some motets in the Vatican Libraries. The fate of the rest is a mystery, though an ignominious legend exists that the scores were sold to a Roman cheesemonger to wrap his wares, such was the value of parchment paper at the time. Fortunately, a few motets can be found scattered across part-books, one of which, O crux ave spes unica, has been reconstructed for this recording.

The album also includes works by other composers who had connections to the Rome Oratory including Allegri, the Anerio brothers, and Giovannelli, who succeeded Palestrina.

The London Oratory Schola will be touring the USA in July and singing much of this music both in liturgical and concert contexts, including an appearance at the Palestrina500 Festival.

Sacred Treasures of Rome is released worldwide on all major platforms on July 4, 2025.

Pre-order via Amazon in the U.S. here, and in the U.K. here.

The Secret

Lost in Translation #128

After the Orate fratres and Suscipiat, the priest recites the second proper oration. In the so-called Gregorian Sacramentary, it is titled the Oratio super oblata, the “Prayer over the Offerings;” in the so-called Gelasian Sacramentary, it is called the Secreta or Secret. The 1970 Roman Missal uses the former title for this prayer, the 1570/1962 Missal the latter.

The use of the word secreta has given rise to much historical speculation and even more theological reflection.

First, it may indicate the voice of the celebrant. According to Josef Jungmann, the Gallo-Frankish liturgy, like the Mozarabic and Eastern liturgies, had a silent offertory rite, and it was this practice that influenced the terminology of the Gelasian sacramentary. [1] Secreta, in other words, means here “secret” or whispered, and for Jungmann such a rubric stands in tension with what he alleges is the earlier Roman (and perennial Ambrosian) practice of saying the oration aloud, a vestige of which is left in the Tridentine Missal when the priest says the concluding part (per omnia saecula saeculorum) in an audible voice.

Second, even though it is not the likely historical reason for the naming, it is not unreasonable to think of the word in reference to the offerings—that is, the bread and wine that have been designated to become the Body and Blood of Our Lord—since, after all, secreta is from the Latin secerno (to dissociate or set apart). [2] Adrian Fortescue notes that originally, “the amount of bread and wine to be consecrated was taken from the large quantity offered” while “the rest was kept for the poor.” [3] That the hosts and wine on the altar have been truly sacralized at this point is testified by the traditional Roman Missal’s De defectibus X.9, which states that a broken host that has already been made an oblatio but has not yet been consecrated [transubstantiated] should be consumed after the ablution (and hence not returned to profane use).

Third, if the bread and wine at this point are secreta, then so too is the congregation, which has been offered up as well (see the In spiritu humilitatis). Secreta in this case would be an abbreviation of ecclesia secreta, the Church set apart. Historically, the three orations of the Roman Rite—Collect, Secret, and Postcommunion—once corresponded to three processions—a liturgical procession to the church, the offertory presentation of the gifts, and the “procession” of the faithful to the sanctuary to receive Holy Communion. The Collect was said after the congregation processed from another church to the church where Mass would be celebrated: the oratio collecta figurately “collected” the prayers of many congregants into one, but it also concluded the physical collection of peregrinating souls into a single body of worshippers. The Secret, on the other hand, follows the separation of the catechumens from the baptized faithful (which once occurred at the beginning of the Offertory) and the further separation of the latter as a consecrated oblation for the Mass. Thus Pius Parsch concludes:

In the primitive Church the neophytes and penitents were dismissed at the end of the Mass of the Catechumens. The ecclesia collecta, the assembled congregation, becomes now the ecclesia secreta, the congregation of the elect, the community of the saints; it is bound together into the mystical body of Christ, lifted up above the cares of this worldly life—now the sacrifice may begin. [4]

Fourth and finally, secreta may refer to the actions or current status of the celebrant, and as such, the oration acts both the ending of the Offertory Rite and the bridge to the Canon, the prologue to which is the Preface (the audible ending of the Secret, which matches the audible dialogue that immediately follows, reinforces this idea that the Secret has a transitional function). Citing a tradition that called the Canon and not this oration the Secret, [5] Claude Barthe goes so far as to suggest that the silence of the Secret prayer is in unison with the silence of the Canon and not the silence of the Offertory prayers, which have “a different sacred character.” [6] “The prayers of the Offertory,” he suggests, “are silent because they are the personal prayers of the minister who is carrying out the action of oblation. But “the great priestly prayers of the Secret and the Canon are silent because of the mystery wrapped up within them.” [7] The underlying idea is that the priest enters into the Canon alone, like the High Priest into the Holy of Holies. In that respect he is also like Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying alone moments before His Passion. In the words of Jean-Jacques Olier,

After [the Orate fratres], the priest does not again turn to the people: focused entirely on God, says the prayers of the Secret, something which represents Our Lord entirely hidden and buried in the bosom of God his Father, where he continues to offer prayers and to render to him his dues, of which the heavenly community of the Church knows nothing, and which are hidden from the greatest part of the angels and saints, in the same way that the apostles were not always witnesses of the prayers that he offered while he was alive on earth. [8]

Notes

[1] Josef Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development, vol. 2 (Benzinger Brothers, 1951), 90-92.

[2] Nicholas Gihr, for example, writes: “Utterly without foundation is the assertion [“found throughout the Middle Age liturgists], that the prayers in question are called Secretae—eo quod super materiam ex fidelium oblationibus separatum et secretam recitantur” (The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass: Dogmatically, Liturgically and Ascetically Explained, 5th ed. [Herder, 1918], 550, fn 5).

[3] Adrian Fortescue, The Mass: A Study of the Roman Liturgy (Longmans, Green, and Co, 1912), 299. A similar practice is maintained to this day in the Coptic rite. According to a recent comment from Aquinas138: “In the Coptic rite, the bread offered to the priest before the Liturgy is called "korban," and the best of the loaves is selected to be the Lamb. The other loaves are distributed with unconsecrated wine after Communion as a way to clear the mouth of any leftover pieces of the Eucharist to avoid profanation such as accidentally spitting out a particle of the Eucharist.”

[4] Pius Parsch, The Liturgy of the Mass, trans. Frederic C. Eckhoff (St. Louis, Missouri: Herder, 1940), 152.

[5] See William Durandus, The Symbolism of Churches and Church Ornaments, trans. John Mason Neale and Benjamin Webb (NY: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1893), Appendix A, p. 175: “The temple of old was divided into two parts by a veil hung in the middle thereof. The first part was called the Holy Place, but the inner part the Holy of Holies. Whatever part then of the office of the Mass cometh before the secret is performed as it were in the outer place: but the secret itself within the Holy of Holies.” In his Rationale Divinorum Officiorum IV.35.1, Durandus lists three other valid names for the Canon: actio, sacrificium, and secreta. “It is called the secret,” he explains, “as if it were hidden from us because there is no way that human reason can fully capture so great a mystery: and that it may signify this, it is rightly celebrated in a secret voice” (IV.35.2: Secreta dicitur, quasi nobis occulta, quia humana ratione nequaquam tantum mysterium plenarie capere potest; ad quod significandum, merito secreta voce celebratur.)

[6] Claude Barthe, Forest of Symbols: The Traditional Mass and Its Meaning, trans. David J. Critchley (Angelico Press, 2023).

[7] Ibid.

[8] Jean-Jacques Olier, The Mystical Meaning of the Ceremonies of the Mass (Arouca Press, 2024), 151.

Corpus Christi 2025

Qui manducat meam carnem et bibit meum sanguinem, * In me manet, et ego in eo. V. Non est alia natio tam grandis, quæ habeat deos appropinquantes sibi, sicut Deus noster adest nobis. In me manet. (The seventh responsory of Matins of Corpus Christi.)

He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, in me abideth, and I in him. V. There is no other nation so great, that hath gods that come nigh them, as our God is present to us. In me he abideth.

Today is also the feast of St. Juliana Falconieri (1270-1341), who was the foundress of the female branch of the Servite Order, and the niece of St. Alexius Falconieri, one of the seven founders of the older male branch. The collect of her feast refers to a famous Eucharistic miracle that took place to her benefit.

Deus, qui beatam Julianam Virginem tuam extremo morbo laborantem pretioso Filii tui corpore mirabiliter recreare dignatus es: concede, quaesumus; ut ejus intercedentibus meritis, nos quoque eodem in mortis agone refecti ac roborati, ad caelestem patriam perducamur.

O God, Who, when the blessed Virgin Juliana was laboring in her last illness, deigned in wondrous manner to comfort her with the Precious Body of thy Son; grant by the intercession of her merits, that we also, in the agony of death, may be refreshed and strengthened thereby, and so brought to the heavenly fatherland.

When St Juliana was dying, at the (for that era) very old age of 71, she was unable to retain any solid food, and for this reason, also unable to receive Holy Communion. She therefore asked that the Eucharist might be brought to her in her sickroom, that she might at least adore Christ in the Real Presence. As the priest brought the Host close to her, it disappeared, and Juliana peacefully died. When her body was being prepared for burial, the impression of a circle the size of a Host, with an image of the Crucifixion in it, was discovered over her heart. She is therefore represented in art with a Host over her heart.

A statue of St Juliana Falconieri in St Peter’s Basilica

She was canonized in 1737 by Pope Clement XII, and her feast added to the universal calendar. The Office of her feast includes a proper hymn for Vespers, which also refers to the Eucharistic miracle:

Hinc morte fessam proxima / Non usitato te modo / Solatur, et nutrit Deus, / Dapem supernam porrigens.
Hence when thou wert tired, and death close by, / God consoled and nourished thee, / Not in the usual way / offering the heavenly banquet.

St. Juliana, pray for us!

Very Wise Words from Pope Leo about Polyphony in the Liturgy

This year, the Church is commemorating the fifth centenary of the birth of one of the greatest composers of liturgical music in her history, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525-94). Yesterday, in the Sala Regia of the Apostolic Palace, Pope Leo was present for an event in celebration of Palestrina, organized by the Cardinal Domenico Bartolucci Foundation. (Cardinal Bartolucci, himself a prolific composer, was also director of the Sistine Chapel Choir, and dedicated much of his life to preserving the tradition of the Roman school of polyphony embodied by his illustrious predecessor of the 16th century.) The Pope spoke about the use of sacred polyphony in the liturgy in words which should be very encouraging to those who work as Cardinal Bartolucci did to keep the precious heritage of our liturgical tradition alive, not just as music for concert performance, but as music for prayer. Those who believe that such music should be excluded from the liturgy because it does not foster “participation”, as it is so commonly and shallowly understood, would do well to consider these wise words, which are, of course, fully consonant with the Church’s long-standing tradition and teaching on the use of sacred music, and no less so with the words of the Second Vatican Council en regard.

A recording of Palestrina’s Missa Papae Marcelli, cited by Pope Leo.

“Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina was ... one of the composers who contributed most to the promotion of sacred music ‘for the glory of God, and the edification of the faithful.’ (St Pius X, Motu proprio Tra le sollecitudini 1, Nov. 22, 1903, 1), in the difficult, but at the same time exciting, context of the Counter-Reformation. His compositions, solemn and austere, inspired by Gregorian chant, closely unite music and liturgy, ‘both by giving to prayer a more delightful expression, and favoring unity (of minds), and by enriching the sacred rites with greater solemnity.’ (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 112).

Polyphony itself ... is a musical form full of significance for prayer and for the Christian life. First of all, it is inspired by the sacred text, which it proposes ‘to clothe with suitable melody’, so that it may better ‘reach the understanding of the faithful.’ (Tra le sollecitudini, 1) Furthermore, it realizes this goal by giving the words to several voices, which repeat them each in its own way, with complementary melodic and harmonic movements. All is harmonized thanks to the expertise with which the composer develops and weaves the melodies together, respecting the rules of counterpoint, making each one an echo of the others, and at times creating dissonances which then find resolution in new harmonies. The effect of this dynamic unity in diversity – a metaphor for our common journey of faith under the guidance of the Holy Spirit – is to help those who hear to enter ever more deeply into the mystery expressed by the words, replying, where opportune, with responsories or in alternatim.

Thanks precisely to this richness of form and content, the Roman polyphonic tradition, besides leaving us with an immense patrimony of art and spirituality, continues to be even today in the field of music a reference point to be considered, with due modifications, in sacred and liturgical composition, so that through music, ‘the faithful may participate fully, consciously and actively in the liturgy’, (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 14), with profound involvement of the voice, the mind and the heart. The Missa Papae Marcelli is an example of this par excellence in its genre, as is the precious repertoire of compositions left to us by the unforgettable Cardinal Domenico Bartolucci, illustrious composer, and for nearly 50 years director of the Pontifical Sistine Choir.”

By the way, today is the 43rd anniversary of the Holy Father’s priestly ordination, which took place in the church of St Monica in Rome, very close to the Vatican. This church is part of the Augustinian Order’s complex in Rome that also houses its well-regarded school for the study of the Church Fathers, the Augustinianum. When he was made a cardinal on Sept. 30, 2023, the same church was given to him as his cardinalitial title.

Palestrina’s motet Tu es Petrus.

Music for First Vespers of Corpus Christi

O how delightful, * o Lord, is thy Spirit, Who, that Thou may show Thy sweetness unto Thy children, having granted them most sweet bread from heaven, fillest the hungry with good things, and sendest away empty the scornful rich. (The Magnificat antiphon for First Vespers of Corpus Christi.)

Aña O quam suávis est, * Dómine, spíritus tuus, qui, ut dulcédinem tuam in filios demonstráres, pane suavíssimo de caelo prǽstito, esurientes reples bonis, fastidiósos dívites dimittens inánes.

A very nice polyphonic setting by the Spanish composer Alonso Lobo (1555-1617), a contemporary of Victoria, who held him in the highest regard.

Another by William Byrd (1540 ca. - 1623)

A particularly fine recording of the Gregorian melody of the hymn Pange, lingua, gloriosi Corporis mysterium, which is sung at both Vespers.

And finally, an absolutely splendid version by Victoria himself, alternating a different Gregorian melody with polyphony.

Practical Steps for Transitioning from the 1962 to the Pre-1955 Roman Rite—Part 3: The Divine Office

Click the following links for the earlier parts of this ongoing series: Part 1 | Part 2

I staked the claim that we must return to the 1939 office rather than the simple 1954 form, which happens to have a memorable rhyming slogan in English (“restore the ’54”). But I shall defend that claim, going into the weeds a little bit at the start of this article.

The Canticle of Canticles is primarily read at Matins of the Assumption octave, in an orderly manner over the eight days. (Some chapters are omitted due to the introduction of double feasts, but those could be omitted or the rubrics amended to require the readings of the octave, instead of the occurring Scripture.) In any case, under the 1950 office, chapter 1 of Canticles is no longer read; chapter 2 is still read, but on the Visitation, a less important feast added much later (although it is a feast commemorating a Scriptural event); chapter 3 is omitted if Saint Mary Magdalene is impeded (and 1960 omits even that), and chapter 8 is now omitted in the office of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Chapter 4 is read as the day is unimpeded on the general calendar, and the rest are omitted due to feasts as mentioned above. There is also no reason to read something written by the reigning pope in the office of one of the greatest Marian feasts. But let us move on to the transition, of which this series is supposed to be a guide.

The challenge of making changes in an entire community remains, and these are felt most acutely with the choir office, particularly if some of the office is sung in choir and the rest said privately. Thankfully, that is above my pay grade. Some suggestions for the reform of the office, and to an extent the Mass, are also applicable to priests belonging to a diocese and should be noted; in his own breviary, the diocesan priest might simply take up the whole old office, at least for the minor hours, working up to the full Lauds and Vespers, then Matins.

The simplest place to begin would be by praying the suppressed silent prayers before and after the Hours, which are either in the 1962 breviary as it is, can be put on a card, or are easily memorized; the Marian antiphon could then be added to the end of Lauds or the final day hour when said in a bunch following Lauds, not only Compline, or when Vespers is separated from Compline (and when no other pious exercise, sermon, or Benediction follows). Surely no cleric would decline the opportunity to invoke his Mother’s protection more often?

The feast of Saint Matthias is transferred to Monday if it conflicts with a Sunday of Lent; under Divino Afflatu, the I Vespers are still prayed in full, with a commemoration of Sunday.

Clerics in major orders (from the diaconate, if transitional, or according to the community’s constitutions, from the subdiaconate) who are obliged to pray the entire office could add the first psalm omitted at Lauds of penitential days to Prime, at least in private, though this may pose some difficulties for clerics who pray Prime with community members who are not so bound. That psalm is still in the breviary, and so are the suppressed verses of psalm 88 cut from Christmas, the Transfiguration, or Christ the King, whereas the canticle of Deuteronomy at Saturday Lauds is mutilated such that one could not pray the full text from a 1962 breviary.

From there, the clergy praying the full office could semidouble the antiphons of the minor hours and of Compline, including those sung with members who are not yet subdeacons (typically Prime, Terce, or Sext and Compline); the ferial preces could be prayed anytime the penitential Lauds are said or Vespers are of the feria of Advent of Lent. This change does not even affect the entire year, nor even every day within the seasons.

For those lucky enough to use older, original versions of the Liber Usualis in choir, praying the doxologies as printed for Compline is easy to implement without much thought, as the book is written that way! This would also apply to the other minor hours, of course, although the doxologies are rarely printed for offices other than festal Compline; for example, one has to learn that it changes during the season of Easter or on feasts (an asterisk printed in the breviary reminds the cleric of this).

Semidoubling the hours on Sundays (perhaps surprisingly, all Sundays are privileged but of semidouble rite, except for Low Sunday, which is double major, and the Sundays that are feasts, i.e. Easter and Pentecost, where there is no other Sunday, as well as Trinity, Christ the King, etc. fixed on Sunday) and at daily Compline (sometimes prayed with the faithful) is another easy step to take at public offices. Saint-Eugène-Sainte-Cécile in Paris already does this for most Sundays, and frankly it is easier anyway if you are introducing Vespers, since the psalm matches what is printed for the antiphon, particularly with Psalm 109; the priest intones the antiphon, which is the first words of the psalm, so the cantors continue with the psalm. At first, you could still follow the 1962 observance in omitting the commemorations and suffrages. Adding commemorations and suffrages according to the rubrics and the occurrences or concurrences of the calendar (including the Incarnation doxology for the commemoration of a lesser Marian feast) would be the last step.

That said, the commemorations can be somewhat complicated, particularly when octaves get involved, and figuring out the order is not always intuitive; one simply has to trust the Ordo while trying to learn the rubrics on the fly. For example, the order of commemorations for June 19, 2022 (Sunday within the octave of Corpus Christi) were complicated by the commemoration of the octave, and this is a point of the rubrics that was changed in 1911 to be more complicated than before, leaving it to be blown up in 1955 and in 1960.

For priests belonging to a traditional community, it would be better to work commemorations out privately and to mutually agree on them—say, starting at the community’s seminary—than to introduce them independently, with disagreements arising in different churches; the commemorations can be easy to forget or to execute incorrectly as well, as the rubrics for “Oremus” and the conclusions are not the same as at Mass. At the office, the celebrant sings “Oremus” before each collect, but this is not the case at Mass: it is sung before the first collect and then before the second, but not before subsequent collects. (I recommend a sticky note or an index card.)

In lieu of worrying about that first, restoring I Vespers where there is no conflict seems to be a more prudent choice; to pick at low-hanging fruit, Vespers of the vigil of Saint Lawrence is an anomaly easily fixed by saying I Vespers of the feast provided in the 1960 breviary. I would also suggest singing the traditional hymns of Vespers and Lauds of the Assumption, even with the 1950 collect and chapter for expediency, before moving on to the traditional prayers down the road.

Next, psalms for the feast should replace the ferial psalms of the minor hours on II class feasts. One would already have the necessary texts since the antiphons are from the Lauds already prayed, from the common or proper. Then one can celebrate I Vespers of all II class feasts, especially the feasts of Apostles, and add the commemorations of lower feasts (in occurrence at Lauds and, at first, in concurrence at Vespers, and going from there).

After this begins the a different kind of challenge: restoring texts that simply do not exist in a 1962 breviary or which would constitute a greater burden. The preces at the minor hours and the dominical preces of Prime and Compline are very short, but they were either removed or would require substantial pencil markings in a 1962 breviary if you wish to say them. The same is true for the suffrages. Praying Vespers of the Dead after canonical Vespers of All Saints on November 1 is trivial in the sense that the text is in the breviary, but praying two Vespers is an utterly foreign concept, and when Vespers of the dead is prayed on certain occasions, psalms are added towards the end which are found in the breviary, just not in the 1960 office of the dead. In other words, get a pencil.

Changing the chapter and the verse at Prime when called for by the older rubrics is simple enough and adds virtually no time to the office, but the texts would not necessarily be in a 1962 breviary (in fact, they mostly are not). Also, commemorating a lesser Marian feast commemorated at Saturday Vespers or at those of Sunday, requires memorizing the doxology if using a breviary (easy enough, admittedly); at least in all cases, one needs to create the chant score if using a Liber Usualis. (The omission of the doxology for all tones of the hymns where this happens on green Sundays, from Saturday evening to that of Sunday is a strange lacuna.)

Vespers sung by the seminarians of the FSSP

Unfortunately, Matins is probably the last significant change, because the readings, especially on Sundays, cannot be reconstituted from a 1962 breviary; you have to have an earlier edition, or, less ideally, your phone or a document created with the missing portions, but the thing is that the readings are not that long. Efficiently praying Matins with Lauds on a feast of nine lessons takes less than an hour; even taking into consideration apostolic demands, does one not have an hour to watch and pray? If not, we should fix this, and the faithful should support priests doing this according to their own abilities. (Both are easier said than done.)

Praying Matins is all the more easy considering the compromise psalter, of which the flaws are evident after only a few days of praying the Roman office of 1911/1954 (such as on July 9 and 10, 2022, with Our Lady on Saturday followed by a green Sunday with no doubles commemorated on either day). Nevertheless, the secular clergy would consider this office the most burdensome, not entirely without reason.

In contrast, praying the Athanasian Creed is, in theory, not especially burdensome for those who must pray Prime, but it does require paying attention to the commemorations of octaves and double feasts (these suppress the recitation of this creed) such that its reintroduction could come before adding commemorations at Mass or at the same time, depending on whether one is in a community that should try to pray in the same way or if one is alone (or with other diocesan priests) is in a parish. In other words, one could accelerate the restoration of one’s office at the same pace as, or a faster pace than, that of the public Mass. Mutatis mutandis for the suffrages already mentioned in the context of Vespers, which also occur, even more often, at Lauds.

The Cisterican Abbey of Salem in Southern Germany

Our Ambrosian writer Nicola de’ Grandi recently visited the abbey of Salem in southern Germany, about 18 miles to the west of Ravensberg, half that distance from the city Constance to the south-west. It was founded as a Cistercian house within the lifetime of St Bernard, in the 1130s, and quickly grew to become of the largest and most important abbeys in all of the German Empire; by the end of the 13th century, the community had 300 members. The present Gothic church was begun in 1285, and consecrated in 1414, a simple but imposing structure, and in fact the largest Cistercian church in the world, very much in keeping with the austerity which characterized the order in its early centuries. However, as is the case with many Cistercian churches, the interior was completely redecorated in the much more elaborate Baroque style after the Counter-Reformation, in the 1620s.

The high altar, built in 1773, has a mensa on each side; on Sundays and major feast days, one Mass would be celebrated on the choir side for the monastic community, and another for the lay faithful on the nave side. (In the calendars of Cistercian liturgical books, one of the higher grades of feast is “two Masses.”)

The Gothic Sacrament tower, surrounded by Baroque decorations. 

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Beauty Ever Ancient and Ever New

Contemporary Sacred Music by the Texas-based Composer Andrew Dittman

Today, there is a stark divide between high culture (often confined to a small, educated elite) and popular culture, which appeals broadly but lacks the depth of traditional artistic forms. We see this pattern of the separation of high and pop culture in art, music, architecture and literature, and are so used to the idea that it is easy to imagine this it has always been so.

On the one hand, you have what now passes for high culture, which is typically so ugly and inaccessible that to be able to appreciate it, you need years of education at a modern university to remove your good taste and common sense (which is the primary purpose of a modern education). On the other hand, you have a popular culture that is accessible and can sometimes be beautiful, but is limited by its scope and the ambition of what it aims to communicate. As a result, it is often also base and crude.

Historically, however, this was not always the case. Dickens and Shakespeare had mass appeal, for example, and the music of composers such as Mozart and Beethoven resonated as much with the aristocracy and the educated as with the ordinary people, drawing from a shared cultural font, which is the sacred. Even for music that had no obvious religious or sacred connections, the forms of the mundane were derived from, and hence point back to, the forms that dominated the sacred music of the time. If we believe that it is good for all to appreciate and participate in the highest expressions of human creativity and beauty (and I do), then it becomes desirable to eliminate the gap. Some seek to do this by artificially elevating the place of pop culture to that of the sacred, by, for example, using the forms of pop music in church. This is the movement that brings guitar-strumming folk bands and rap into the choir loft.

I prefer another approach, which is to encourage a fresh creativity in traditional forms of music, in order to restore a high culture that is noble, accessible, beautiful, and universally cherished. For this to be simultaneously popular and elevating, it must both be of its time so that it speaks to the people of the current age, and conform to tradition. If this is ever to happen, sacred music within the liturgy must reclaim its role as the pinnacle of artistic expression, so that it can be once again the natural driving force for all contemporary music.

It is encouraging to see composers in the present age responding to the challenge by choosing to base themselves in churches and compose for the choirs, much as Haydn or Bach did in their day. They craft music that serves worship while aspiring to artistic excellence. I think of figures such as Paul Jernberg, who composes for the Roman Rite, and Roman Hurko, who composes for the Byzantine Rite.

On a recent trip to Dallas, Texas, the music of composer Andrew Dittman was brought to my attention, and he is another who exemplifies this vision. As choirmaster at The Chapel of the Cross Reformed Episcopal Church since 2013, Dittman composes sacred music for weekly liturgical performances, rooted in traditional forms and sung in English and Latin. His work draws on a range of influences, including plainchant, Renaissance and Baroque counterpoint, creating compositions that are both timeless and approachable.

Below are examples of his sacred music from his YouTube channel, highlighting choral performances of his compositions set to both English and Latin, and including harmonised settings of the plainsong chants of the Ordinary of Mass, taken from the Latin and adapted to English:

First is a setting for the text of Psalm 131 (130), text in Latin:

The next two are adaptations of the plainchant Ordinaries to the English translation, which are then harmonised.

And a setting of the Collect of the Fourth Sunday after Trinity Sunday:

It was St Augustine who, in his Confessions, described the beauty of God as ‘ever ancient, ever new’ to describe the divine presence as encompassing all time in an eternal present moment (and which I quote above). He also famously said that those who sing their prayers pray twice! So with that in mind, and aided by the music of Andrew Dittman, let us pray… 

Medieval Allegories of the Divine Office

I have often had occasion to quote the medieval canonist and liturgical scholar William Durandus, bishop of Mende in France, who was born in a small town in Provence in 1237, and died at Rome in 1296. His treatise titled “Rationale Divinorum Officiorum – Explanation of the Divine Services” may well be described as a “Summa Liturgica”, for it provides a summary at once general and thorough of the Church’s liturgy, (covering both text and rite), as his contemporary St Thomas Aquinas did for theology in the two Summas.

The tomb of Durandus in the Dominican church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome. On the left side, he is presented to the Virgin and Child by St. Privatus, the patron saint of his see; St. Dominic is on the right.

Like earlier medieval writers on the liturgy, Durandus simply takes it for granted that the Church’s received liturgical texts are full of allegories, and may be explained as having a mystical significance greater than their mere letter. In this, his attitude to the liturgy is similar to that of the Church Fathers to the Holy Scriptures, and that of the Biblical authors themselves to earlier parts of the Bible. An interesting example of this is his explanation of the readings of Matins in the period after Pentecost.

The system of Scriptural readings assigned to the Office goes back to the 6th century; it originated in the ancient Roman basilicas, but we know nothing about how it was devised. When it was extensively revised in the Tridentine reform, the basic pattern of readings (Isaiah in Advent, St Paul after Epiphany, Genesis in Septuagesima etc.) was not changed, but completed and expanded. Following the feast of Pentecost, the readings are from the books of Kings until the first Sunday of August, when the Church takes up the Sapiential books, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus. In September are read Job, Tobias, Judith and Esther, followed by the two books of the Maccabees in October, and Ezechiel, Daniel and the twelve minor prophets in November.

As he goes through the liturgical texts of the individual Sundays after Pentecost, Durandus is particularly concerned to explain both the mystical significance of the readings taken from a particular book, and their connection with the Sunday Masses. Of course, the date of Pentecost changes every year, ranging from May 10th to June 13th; therefore, the Office readings, which are tied to the calendar months, coincide with a different Sunday every year. Durandus’ allegorical links between these readings and the Sundays assumes a period of only 24 weeks between Pentecost and Advent, although there can be as many as 28. This section of the Rationale is quite long, and I here give only a few selection from the more interesting passages, all from the sixth book.

On the first Sunday after Pentecost

By Septuagesima we signify the human race’s expulsion from the fatherland of Paradise; by Lent, the people’s servitude under Pharaoh; by Easter, the immolation of the Lamb; by the forty days of Eastertide (i.e. from Easter to Ascension), the forty years in the desert; by the Rogations, the entrance into the promised land; by the seven days of Pentecost, in which seven gifts are apportioned, the division of the land; from the season which begins today, we signify the affliction of the people, and the governance by judges and kings. Therefore, there follow the four books of Kings. …

And here begins the fourth time of pilgrimage, because we are on the way to return to the fatherland. But because we have enemies before we arrive there, namely, the flesh, the world and the devil, the readings are taken from the books of Kings, which treat of wars and victories, that we may have victory, as the Jews did against the Philistines, …

But because war is not waged well without discretion, in the period that follows come the books of Solomon. Again, because vices arise, against which patience is necessary, the history of Job comes after that.

(Referring then to the principal personages whose stories are told in the Books of Kings) Saul is proposed to us as an example, who by disobedience lost (the rule of) the kingdom, that we may not be disobedient as he was, and lose the eternal kingdom. But David was humble in all his works, …

Saul and David, by Rembrandt, ca. 1655

David is preaching, and by the sling of preaching the devil is cast out of the heart of men, … Therefore, because men obtain victory through humility, at the Mass the Introit (of the First Sunday after Pentecost) begins “Lord, I have hoped in Thy mercy” – this shows David’s humility – “my heart hath exulted” – this is the joy of his mind, and through these two things is the battle won.

On the seventh Sunday after Pentecost

(The Sapiential books) are read from the beginning of August to the beginning of September, because this month is hot, and signifies the heat of the vices, in which we must rule (ourselves) wisely, as in the midst of a wicked and perverse nation. Or otherwise, because this month, August, is the sixth month (according to the ancient Roman calendar), whence it was called Sextilis before the time of Augustus Caesar, and our true Solomon (i.e. Christ) came in the sixth age of the world, Who made both one, and was the might of God, and the wisdom of God, and who taught us to live and teach wisely.

On the ninth Sunday after Pentecost

The book of Wisdom is read. Wisdom is to think about heavenly things, and lift the heart up to them, … and because a man cannot lift himself above himself, but must be drawn by the Lord, therefore the Introit says, “Behold God is my helper: and the Lord is the protector (‘susceptor’) of my soul”, that is, one who taketh upwards (‘sursum captor’.) ”

King Salomon, by Pedro Berruguete, ca. 1500

On the twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

The twelfth Sunday is about prayer, and Job, as it were is portrayed, praying and sitting upon the dung heap (Job 2, 8) complaining about his false friends. … Job upon the dung heap is symbolically the soul in mortal sin, … and while it remains there, can only pray God to deliver it thence; wherefore the Introit begins “O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me.” …

But in the Offertory is shown the efficacy of prayer, and the whole text is the prayer of Moses, taken from Exodus (chapter 32), when he prayed for the children of Israel, who made the golden calf for themselves, … which proves that the merits of the Saints benefit us.

On the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

The book of Tobias is read, by whom the human race is represented, made blind by the sin of the first parent, which can only be healed by the bitterness of the Passion, which is signified by the gall (placed on Tobias’ eyes to heal them in chapter 11). … it says in the Introit, “Look, o Lord, upon Thy covenant, … and forget not to the end the souls of thy poor.” And this is what Tobias said to his son, “Fear not, my son: we lead indeed a poor life, but we shall have many good things if we fear God.”

On the sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

(T)he Church reads and sings about the Maccabees, who suffered many things under Antiochus and seven (foreign) nations. And by this it is held that the temple, which was polluted by those peoples, was purified by the Maccabees. By this it is signified that the soul, which is the temple of God, once polluted by the seven deadly vices, cannot be purified unless it be purified of sin.

Heliodorus Driven from the Temple (2 Maccabees 3), by Bertholet Flémal, 1658-62, following Raphael’s depiction of the same subject in the Stanza di Elidoro in the Vatican Museums.