A New Booklet with the Office of the Dead, from Canticum Salomonis

Our good friends at Canticum Salomonis are pleased to announce the publication of a pocket-sized (4” x 6”) edition of the traditional Roman Office of the Dead, featuring the full Office (Vespers, Matins, and Lauds) according to the 1568 Roman Breviary. This edition includes the Latin text with a facing English translation, along with the additional orations from the 1614 Roman Ritual. The English translation of the psalms follows the original Douay-Rheims version with modernized spelling. The booklet also features a meditation on the mystical significance of the Office, drawn from Dom Prosper Guéranger’s The Liturgical Year, and a section for recording prayer intentions.

The Most Holy Name of Mary

Whosoever thou art that knowest thyself to be here not so much walking upon firm ground, as battered to and fro by the gales and storms of this life’s ocean, if thou wouldst not be overwhelmed by the tempest, keep thine eyes fixed upon this star’s clear shining. If the winds of temptation rise against thee, or thou run upon the rocks of trouble, look to the star, call on Mary. If thou art tossed by the waves of pride, or ambition, or slander, or envy, look to the star, call on Mary. If anger or avarice or the enticements of the flesh beat against thy soul’s barque, look to Mary. If the enormity of thy sins trouble thee, if the foulness of thy conscience confound thee, if the dread of judgment appall thee, if thou begin to slip into the deep of despondency, into the pit of despair, think of Mary.

The Apparition of the Virgin Mary to St Bernard, 1486 by Fra Filippo Lippi (1457-1504); public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

In dangers, in difficulties, in doubts, think of Mary, call upon Mary. Let Her not be away from thy mouth or from thine heart, and that thou may obtain the succour of Her prayers, turn not aside from the example of Her conversation. If thou follow Her, thou wilt never go astray; if thou pray to Her, thou wilt never despair; if thou keep Her in mind, thou wilt never wander. If She hold thee, thou wilt never fall; if She lead thee, thou wilt never be weary; if She help thee, thou wilt reach home safe, and so prove in thyself how rightly it was said, “And the Virgin’s name was Mary.” (From the sermon of St Bernard of Clairvaux in the Office of the Most Holy Name of Mary.)

Review of a New Reprint of an Old Edition of the Vulgate: Guest Article by Mr Sean Pilcher

Our thanks to Mr Sean Pilcher for sharing with us review of a new reprint of a very beautiful edition of the Clementine Vulgate. He is the director of Sacra: Relics of the Saints (sacrarelics.org), an apostolate that promotes education about relics, and works to repair, research, and document relics for religious houses and dioceses; last year we published a three-part article by him on that subject.

St Jerome’s Latin Vulgate Bible stands with St Benedict’s Rule and the Roman Missal as one of the most copied and circulated texts in the Christian tradition. It is surely a sign of the times, then, when the number of affordable editions of our canonical Scriptures wanes and the text accordingly loses its place in our daily lives. If we can wince at the scarcity of editions of these books, then we can also be encouraged when they return to print in useful, affordable, sometimes rather fine editions.

The Vulgate is the basis for most of our liturgical books, and is a locus of prayer, meditation, and commentary for so many saints and Fathers of the Church. It is the constant source of reference, and a primary text for lectio divina. In more recent decades, one of the most widely-purchased editions of the Latin Bible is the German Bible Society’s big green Bible.

This version is useful for scholars of manuscript variants and text history, but is not the common, ‘catholic’ Vulgate text. It contains many critical notes of variant readings, and can seem more like a car or computer manual than the inspired Word of God. It is perhaps not the kind of thing one would normally take up for devotional reading, and its physical presentation and strain on the eye do not encourage it. The text also lacks punctuation, as the oldest manuscripts of the Bible itself do. A new copy costs around $100, not an impossible price for a Bible, but considering its limited usability, I suggest another edition.

A more accessible edition for Catholics is the so-called Colunga-Turrado, named for the two principal editors, published by Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos (BAC): a workhorse that can be had relatively cheaply ($40-$90). The text is the Clementine Vulgate, the version used in the liturgical books. Earlier editions (bound nicely in cloth) can be found ‘used’ for an even more reasonable price, and some include helpful illustrations.

This Bible contains prefaces, some relevant decrees of the magisterium, and has a helpful index–all in Latin. I recommend this edition to students and people interested in having a reliable Bible for daily reference and reading. The notes are simple and not distracting, noting where one book references another, or where Our Lord or one of the apostles quote the Old Testament. They are helpful for study but easily ignored during quick reading or meditation. There are some spelling errors, but we shall notice this in most Bibles if we actually read them.

Most recently, Church Latin Publishing Company has reprinted a very nice edition of the same official Clementine Text, originally typeset and designed by Desclée and The Society St John the Evangelist in 1901. This book, even more than the BAC version, looks like a Catholic book. It contains clear, devotional line art very much in the tradition of older liturgical books; in other words, it looks like a prayer book, not a critical monograph. Each book or group of books of the Bible begins with an illustration of its author or principal figure, and each chapter has a very nice drop-cap letter to focus the eye.

St Jerome’s original prefaces are included at the beginning of the volume, which ends with some additional texts and indices. I emphasize that the book looks Catholic because so much of modern biblical study, and even publishing, follow protestant conventions. Biblical scholarship can certainly be undertaken by parties outside the Church, but if the way we treat the Sacred Scriptures, the names we have for the books, the critical methods we use, and even the physical books we print all resemble those used by protestants, we may be perhaps inclined to perceive the Bible as a ‘stand-alone’ or ‘independent’ text equally used by any ecclesial body.

The reason that the Bible should look and feel like a Catholic book is because it is a Catholic book–loved, preserved, copied, read, studied, and proclaimed by Holy Mother Church throughout the centuries.

Church Latin Publishing Company’s ‘resurrected’ edition of the Vulgate is a serious contribution to the shockingly small pool of editions currently in print, and as such, a good sign of renewal. Its appearance and construction inspire reverence for the written Word of God, and echo the text’s shared place in the Missal or the Breviary. Its competitive price ($100) and devotional character make it ideal as a gift or as a Bible for daily reading and meditation. The text, while ornamental, and if perhaps on the small side, is still suitable for study, and wide margins leave room for annotations or marking if desired.

Of course, having nice (or many) editions of the Bible does not do us any good if we do not make them familiar objects of study and prayer. We would do well to take up such a beautiful book and put it to use.

“Crebrius lege et disce quam plurima. Tenenti codicem somnus obrepat et cadentem faciem pagina sancta suscipiat. – Read often and learn all you can. Let sleep find you holding your book, and when your head nods let it be resting on the sacred page.” St Jerome, letter to Eustochium.

St Jerome in His Study, 1442, by the workshop of the Netherlandish painter Jan van Eyck (1390 ca. - 1441; public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Feast of St Louis at the Oratory of Ss Gregory and Augustine

We are very glad to share these pictures from the Oratory of Ss Gregory and Augustine in St Louis, Missouri, of the celebrations of the city’s patron Saint at the end of August: solemn Vespers on the eve of the feast, and solemn Mass on the day itself, followed by a procession to the statue of St Louis in Forest Park. Once, again, we can see that these young people have no time for nostalgia; they are too busy building the city of God and evangelizing through beauty - Feliciter! And many thanks to Kiera Petrick for sharing her lovely photos with us.

First Vespers and Benediction

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Church of the New Liturgy and the New Ecclesiology (Part 2)

This it the second part of an article which our founding editor, Mr Shawn Tribe, has graciously shared with us from his site Liturgical Arts Journal, his translation of an article originally written in French by Abbé Grégoire Celier. It forms a very illuminating collection of citations from protagonists and proponents of the post-Conciliar reform, some well-known, some less well-known, which demonstrate why they believed that the reform required old church buildings to be modified, and new ones to be built differently. The first part was published last week. The first two photographs in this part were selected by Mr Tribe, the rest by myself. – NLM editor.

The Status Quo Ante Not Feasible

As the celebration according to the new liturgical norms depended on an architectural environment suited to it, it was not possible to leave things as they were. Indeed, Father [Joseph] Gélineau notes “the all too obvious difficulty encountered in trying to inscribe post-Vatican II liturgy in spaces and volumes designed for a very different type of liturgy” (Joseph Gélineau, Demain la liturgie, Cerf, 1976, p. 29).

But these liturgists would not give up: “It should also be emphasized that priests are invited to continue fitting their churches according to the requirements of the [new] liturgy. In particular, they are advised to place the Blessed Sacrament in a chapel separate from the main vessel of the church, and to give a new place to treasures of sacred art if they need to be removed from their present location.” (“L’instruction sur le culte eucharistique montre que la mise en œuvre de la réforme est fermement poursuivie”, Informations catholiques internationales 290, June 15 1967, p. 8).

It was therefore necessary to consider modifying the layout of churches, wherever necessary and possible, to adapt them to the new liturgy. It should be noted that, from the outset, some layouts were deemed more favourable than others. “A semicircular church, where everyone can see each other and feel connected, certainly allows for better implementation of the post-conciliar reform than an elongated nave built according to other aesthetic and religious canons” (Jean-Claude Crivelli, Des assemblées qui célèbrent : une pratique des signes du salut, Commission suisse de liturgie, 1980, p. 11). 

The Necessary Changes

But since this [semi-circular arrangement] was often not the case, they needed to think about “transforming the interior layout of churches throughout the world, with a view to renewing the celebration of the Eucharist” (Pierre Jounel, “Le missel de Paul VI”, La Maison Dieu 103, 3rd quarter 1970, p. 32). The altar had to face the people, an ambo had to be set up, the tabernacle had to be relocated, and the seating had to be changed. “This spirit pushes us even further: the choice of pews rather than chairs (to avoid the turning movements and noise they entail), the elimination of kneelers (the faithful remaining standing or seated during the liturgical action)” (Thierry Maertens and Robert Gantoy, La nouvelle célébration liturgique et ses implications, Publications de Saint-André-Biblica, 1965, p. 21).

In short, the general layout of the domus ecclesiae needed to be reconsidered. “The severe prescription with regard to minor altars [i.e., their removal] applies a fortiori to the many devotional objects that still so often dot the walls and columns of our churches: the Stations of the Cross, statues, indiscreet confessionals, etc. If they have a place in the interior of churches, they must be removed. If they have their place in chapels separated from the main space of the church, they disperse the assembly when the latter, in the Eucharist, is called upon to give a sign of unity” (Thierry Maertens and Robert Gantoy, La nouvelle célébration liturgique et ses implications, Publications de Saint-André-Biblica, 1965, p. 21).

“Churches, in fact, even when listed, are only secondarily museums. First and foremost, they fulfill a specific religious function. So it’s only natural that their layout and furnishings should meet the needs of the liturgy, and particularly the liturgy of the moment. However, the latter implies new ways of gathering; it requires truly transitory furniture; it leads to the abandonment of the use of certain liturgical objects; by grouping parishes together, it leaves churches unused. All this has important practical consequences, and it has to be recognized that old churches do not always lend themselves to the desired adaptations” (Philippe Boitel, ‘Une église peut-elle être un musée?’, Informations catholiques internationales 402, February 15 1972, p. 4).

“The reform requires new creations: the layout of churches, with the altar turned towards the faithful, the place where the Word of God is celebrated, the celebrant’s seat, the Blessed Sacrament chapel, a new conception of the confessional“ (“Interview with Cardinal Knox”, La Documentation catholique 1674, April 20, 1975, p. 368).

(photograph from Wikimedia Commons by Martin Geisler)

Modifications of Churches To Express a New Ecclesiology

“In modifying the rite, will the reform also involve a new conception of the structure of our churches? Yes, and in different ways. Firstly, by insisting on the communal meaning of the Mass as an assembly of the people of God, the reform requires that everyone be able to follow the rite taking place at the altar. On the one hand, therefore, it aims to eliminate all screens (columns, pillars, etc.) that prevent a clear view of the altar, something made possible today by the evolution of architectural techniques. On the other hand, it puts the altar back to the centre, not geometrically, but ideally, and prefers it to be decisively and rightly turned towards the people. In addition, by emphasizing the role of the congregation, the reform makes it necessary to find suitable locations for the celebrant, his ministers, readers, ambo, etc. For the same reason, it reduces the space required for the altar. For the same reason, it reduces the number of minor altars, which are detrimental to the unity of the congregation, and simplifies the ornaments that used to overwhelm the altar” (Cardinal Giacomo Lercaro, ‘Nouvelle étape de la réforme liturgique : le pourquoi du comment’, Informations catholiques internationales 235, March 1, 1965, p. 26).

This need for architectural redesign should come as no surprise, for if the external form influences the content, the content must in turn react to the external form. “The post-conciliar Church is undergoing profound change, and it is only natural that the church-building should suffer the effects” (Philippe Boitel, ‘Quelles églises pour demain?’, Informations catholiques internationales 388, July 15 1971, p. 22). Indeed, “the liturgical reform imposes on many a new layout for places of worship” (“Dimanche et mission pastorale dans un monde paganisé”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 57, August 1965, p. 10).

“That [the renewal of the liturgy] should have an impact on places of worship, and that these should find themselves partially unsuited as a result of the evolution undergone within the liturgy, no one should be surprised. Insofar as sacred actions have been modified, insofar as the emphasis has been placed on a more total participation of the faithful, buildings built in other times and with a different outlook will also have to be adapted to suit their new purpose” (Guy Oury, ‘L’aménagement des églises - Un aspect du renouveau liturgique’, L’Ami du clergé 6, February 10 1966, p. 89).

Recent embellishments to the church of the Holy Name, the principal Jesuit church of Rome.

This whole new ecclesiological vision naturally expresses itself in this new structuring of the sacred space. “It is clear that liturgical reform cannot be limited to a few changes in the content of the texts read by ministers, or in the gestures of the celebrants (...) It transforms the relationship between the celebrant and the faithful. It distributes the respective functions of the celebrant, the ministers, the schola and the people in a way that is new to us, yet profoundly traditional. It follows that it calls for an arrangement of the places of celebration that is quite different from what it has been until now” (Commission épiscopale de liturgie, ‘Le renouveau liturgique et la disposition des églises’, Notes de pastorale liturgique 58, October 1965, p. 41, or La liturgie, Documents conciliaires V, Centurion, 1966, p. 201).

The Resulting New Arrangements

“[The] construction and layout of churches today can be carried out in the light of a much more complete and elaborate conception of liturgical space” (Frédéric Debuyst, “Quelques réflexions au sujet de la construction d’espaces liturgiques”, Communautés et Liturgies 4, September 1981, p. 285).

Father Roguet, a shrewd judge, had discerned early on the inevitable result of this particular manifestation of the renewal. “Certain reforms, which had seemed to concern only arrangements of texts and rites, will inevitably modify certain accessories of our churches and even some of their architectural structures” (A.M. Roguet, ‘Le signe du vin’, Notes de pastorale liturgique 66, February 1967, p. 43). This is what everyone would come to understand a little later. “The liturgical reform aims with all its might at the full and active participation of all the people. For this to be possible, an appropriate architecture is needed. (...) Liturgical renewal and the way in which the Church situates itself in the world call for a new type of architecture” (F. Agnus, ‘Architecture et renouveau liturgique’, Notes de pastorale liturgique 76, October 1968, p. 46).

New Church Constructions: Transitory and Provisionary

“The monumental and definitive character of what we build does not lend itself well to the present mobility, noticeable in the Church itself: the problems, often insoluble, posed by the adaptation of old churches to current needs, if only to the new forms of liturgical celebration, are likely to arise, in five or ten years' time, for the churches we have just built (...) In the present conditions, it would seem normal to conceive this meeting place, in the image of the community’s activities, as a multifunctional place, usable for purposes other than liturgical ceremonies alone. A domus ecclesiae, for example, could be set on one or two floors of a large building, and would include, in addition to a few small rooms (one of which could be converted into an oratory for private prayer and visits to the Blessed Sacrament) and the offices of the permanent staff, a large room that could be fitted out for various uses (conferences, meetings, parties, receptions, liturgy, etc.) using truly mobile furniture” (Pierre Antoine, ‘L’église est-elle un lieu sacré?’, Études, March 1967, pp. 442-444).

For “it is clear that today we must abandon the more or less pagan and triumphalist concept of the temple, where elements of monumentality and sacred space predominate, in favour of the Christian concept of the assembly, where values of humility, interiority and personalizing relationships predominate. Churches would then once again become house-churches rather than sanctuaries of the Most High” (Dieudonné Dufrasne, ‘Contribution à une spiritualité du samedi saint’, Paroisse et Liturgie 2, March-April 1972, p. 115).

“We must sound a warning. Today’s liturgy is in a melting pot; we cannot say what the forms of worship will be in the future. For this reason, we cannot plan churches solely on the basis of today's conception of liturgy, without running the risk of seeing them outdated by the time they are completed. As the liturgical movement advances, new ideas about worship are born (...). In the final analysis, religious buildings must be modern buildings for modern man” (J. G. Davies, ‘La tendance de l’architecture moderne et l’appréciation des édifices religieux’, in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, p. 94, 95 and 99). “This assumes that a religious building is, by vocation, unfinished: not so much perfectible as evolving, available, at least to a certain extent. (...) Should we not be prepared for unforeseeable changes and redesigns within the probable lifespan of our buildings?” (Denis Aubert, ‘De l’église à tout faire à la maison d’église - Expériences à Taizé’ in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, p. 110 and 112).

Constant change in the cathedral of Berlin, Germany: the original interior, photographed in 1886.

The interior as remodeled after World War 2.

A proposed further wreckovation.

The Church Called to Constant Change

Indeed, “if the Constitution [on the liturgy] is observed in letter and spirit, the liturgy will no longer risk becoming fixed and immobilized. Like a tree that has strong roots and whose sap is nourishing, it will bear on branches that live and spread, new flowers and new fruits” (Msgr. H. Jenny, ‘Introduction’ in La liturgie, Centurion, 1966, p. 41).

Cardinal Lercaro, then president of the Consilium was also moving in this same direction in his message to the artists’ symposium held in Cologne on February 28, 1968. “Without a doubt,” he said, “one thing is quite clear: the architectural structures of churches must change as rapidly as people’s living conditions and homes are changing today. Even when building a place of worship, we need to bear in mind the extremely transitory nature of these material structures, whose entire function is one of service to humankind. In this way, we can prevent future generations from being conditioned by churches that we consider avant-garde today, but which they risk seeing as nothing more than outdated edifices. Today, for our part, we experience this conditioning: we feel the difficulty with which the marvellous churches of the past adapt to our religious sensibility, and the force of inertia with which they oppose the indispensable reforms of liturgical action (...). ) So let us not pretend to build churches for centuries to come, but be content to make modest, functional churches that suit our needs and before which our sons feel free to rethink new ones, abandon them or modify them as their time and religious sensibility suggest”  (Giacomo Lercaro, ‘Message to the artists’ symposium held in Cologne on February 28, 1968, La Maison Dieu 97, 1st trim. 1969, pp. 16-17, or in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, pp. 25-26).

This reflection by its president corresponded perfectly with the aims of the Consilium and its secretary, Msgr. [Annibale] Bugnini, as evidenced by the two texts of its official review, on which we shall conclude. “The work of liturgical reform is not finished and, in the spirit of the Council, must never end. The liturgy, like the Church in its human aspect, is inevitably subject to continual reform, born of ecclesial life, so that the Church is truly adapted to the present time, to today’s culture and to the historical moment” (Anschaire J. Chupungco, “Costituzione conciliare sulla sacra liturgia. 15th anniversario”, Notitiæ 149, December 1978, p. 580): ‘Liturgical reform will continue without limit of time, space, initiative and person, modality and rite, so that the liturgy may remain alive for people of all times and generations’ (“Rinnovamento nell’ordine”, Notitiæ 61, February 1971, p. 52). ?

The Song of Songs on the Feast of the Virgin’s Nativity

Before the Tridentine reform, very few feasts had Scriptural readings in the first nocturn of the Divine Office. On Saints’ days, it was typical for readings of their lives to supply all the Matins lessons, while on those of Our Lord and Our Lady, the first two nocturns were usually taken up with a sermon about the feast, and the third by a homily on the Gospel read at Mass. There were, however, certain exceptions to this, such as Christmas and Epiphany, which always had the same readings from Isaiah that they do today. Among the feasts of the Virgin Mary, only that of her Nativity had Scriptural readings; these were taken from the Song of Songs, or Canticle of Canticles, as it was traditionally known in the Latin West, from its title in the Vulgate, “Canticum Canticorum.”

Two pages of a breviary according to the Use of Prague, printed in 1502, with the Office of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary; the Canticle of Canticles is read in both the first and second nocturns. In many Bibles of this period, the Canticle also had notes added to the text to indicate who is speaking, as explained below: these were often incorporated into breviaries as well, as seen here. (Click image to enlarge.)

When the Birth of the Virgin was given an octave in the mid-13th century, readings from the Canticle were supplied for the days within it, but in the Tridentine reform, this arrangement was transferred to the Assumption. Readings from the Canticle were retained for September 8th and 15th, but in the reform of St Pius X, the latter date became the feast of the Seven Sorrows, which has readings from the Lamentations instead. After making the solemn dogmatic definition of the Assumption in 1950, Pius XII promulgated a new Office for it which has Genesis and First Corinthians in the first nocturn, so the custom is now retained only in its original place.

Pope St Gregory the Great (busily writing a Biblical commentary in cope and tiara, as one does), ca. 1370, by the Bohemian painter known as Master Theodoric, active in Prague ca. 1360-80.

The Canticle is, of course, one of the most difficult books of the Bible to interpret. Writing in the mid-3rd century, the great Biblical scholar Origen begins his commentary on it by noting that among the Jews, it is one of the parts of Scripture which the young are not allowed to read, and is “reserved for study till the last.” St Gregory of Nyssa (335-95 ca.), who, like the other Cappadocian Fathers, was greatly influenced by Origen, refers to it repeatedly as a mystery: “Through the title ‘Song of Songs’, the noble text also promises to teach us the mystery of mysteries.” In the West, St Gregory the Great’s commentary became the standard work on the subject; he begins his prologue by stating that “through certain aenigmata, the divine Word speaks to the cold and languid soul, and from the things which it knows, insinuates to it in a hidden way that love which it knows not.” The word aenigmata (the plural of aenigma) means “things which are enigmatical or dark in a figurative representation; allegories; things which are obscure or inexplicable; riddles, enigmas, obscurities, mysteries.” It entered the Latin language from Greek partly through the Vulgate version of 1 Corinthians 13, 12, a verse which the King James Version renders with one its most intriguing and often-used turns of phrase, “We see now through a glass darkly.”

The beginning of the Song of Songs in Bible printed at Strassbourg in 1481, with the Glossa Ordinaria and other commentary material printed in any around it, as was commonly done in that era. (There is a another “glossa ordinaria” for the law code of Justinian, which was produced by scholars at the University of Bologna at the same time as the Biblical one.)   

In the early 12th century, a group of scholars associated with the cathedral school of Laon in France put together a collection of glosses on the text of the whole Bible. This became one of the standard text books for the rest of the Middle Ages and beyond, and was therefore known as the “Glossa Ordinaria”. In its section on the Canticle of Canticles, many of the glosses explain certain verses by the speaker; for example, the opening words “Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth” is explained as “The voice of those who lived before the coming of Christ, who pray to the father of the bridegroom, who is Christ.”

Since the Canticle was regarded as an especially difficult text, many early printed Bibles contain a series of very brief notes interpolated into the text of it, which are derived from the Glossa Ordinaria, or one of the other works of Biblical interpretation that were commonly read in the Middle Ages, the Postillae of Hugh of St Cher, and the commentary of the Franciscan Nicholas of Lyra.

Here, then, is the text of the first chapter of the Canticle of Canticles, with the notes as printed in the Bible shown above.

The beginning of the Song of Songs, with the glosses in red, from a Latin Bible printed at Nuremberg in 1516. (The rest of the book is seen below; the type is small enough that the whole book fits into two pages.) 

The voice of the one who longs for the coming of Christ. Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth: for thy breasts are better than wine, ₂ smelling sweet of the best ointments. The voice of the Church to Christ. Thy name is as oil poured out: therefore young maidens have loved thee. ₃ Draw me: we will run after thee to the odour of thy ointments. The voice of the bride to the young women. The king hath brought me into his storerooms: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, remembering thy breasts more than wine: the righteous love thee. The Church (speaking) about its sufferings ₄ I am black but beautiful, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Cedar, as the curtains of Solomon. ₅ Do not consider me that I am brown, because the sun hath altered my colour: the sons of my mother have fought against me, they have made me the keeper in the vineyards: my vineyard I have not kept. The voice of the Church to Christ. ₆ Shew me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou liest in the midday, lest I begin to wander after the flocks of thy companions. The voice of Christ to the Church. ₇ If thou know not thyself, O fairest among women, go forth, and follow after the steps of the flocks, and feed thy kids beside the tents of the shepherds. ₈ To my company of horsemen, in Pharao's chariots, have I likened thee, O my love. ₉ Thy cheeks are beautiful as the turtledove's, thy neck as jewels. The voice of the friends (of the bridegroom). ₁₀ We will make thee chains of gold, inlaid with silver. The voice of the Church (speaking) about Christ. ₁₁ While the king was at his repose, my spikenard sent forth the odour thereof. ₁₂ A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, he shall abide between my breasts. ₁₃ A cluster of cypress my love is to me, in the vineyards of Engaddi. The voice of Christ. ₁₄ Behold thou art fair, O my love, behold thou art fair, thy eyes are as those of doves. The voice of the Church. ₁₅ Behold thou art fair, my beloved, and comely. Our bed is flourishing. ₁₆ The beams of our houses are of cedar, our rafters of cypress trees.

The Nativity of the Virgin Mary 2024

Look, o man, up the counsel of God, know the counsel of wisdom, the counsel of holiness. When He was to water the ground with heavenly dew, first He poured it upon the whole fleece (Judges 6, 37-40); when He was to redeem the human race, He conferred the whole price thereof upon Mary. Why was this? Perhaps so that Eve might be excused through her daughter, and the man’s complaint against the woman might be laid to rest. Say thou no longer, Adam, “The woman, whom Thou gavest me, gave me of the forbidden tree;” (Gen. 3, 12) say rather, “The woman, whom Thou gavest me, fed me with blessed fruit.” …

The Nativity of the Virgin, by Pietro Lorenzetti, 1335-42; originally painted for one the side-altars of the Cathedral of Siena, now in the Cathedral Museum.

Therefore from the depth our heart, with all the depth of our affection, and in all our prayers let us venerate this Mary; for such is the will of Him who willed us to have all through Mary. This, I say, is His will, but it is for our own sake. For indeed, in all things and through all things taking care for the wretched, He comforteth us in our alarm, stirreth up our faith, strengthens our hope, driveth away our diffidence, raiseth up our weakness. Thou didst fear to draw near to the Father, terrified at His voice, thou fled to (cover thyself with) leaves; He gave thee Jesus as an intercessor. What might such a Son not obtain from such a Father? He will indeed be heard for His reverence, (Hebr. 5, 7) for the Father loveth the Son. (John 3, 35) He is thy brother, and thy flesh, tempted in all things (like as we are, but) without sin, that He might become merciful. (Hebr. 4, 15 and 2, 17) Mary gave thee this brother.
- From St Bernard of Clairvaux’s Sermon on the Nativity of the Virgin Mary (P.L. 183, 0437D et seqq.)

The Feast of St Cloud

September 7th is noted in the Martyrology as the feast day of St Clodoaldus, whose name in English is “Cloud”, and usually pronounced by English-speakers as it is written, as in “raincloud.” It is written the same in French, but the D is silent; by a pun with the word “clou”, he is honored as the Patron Saint of nail-makers. His feast is traditionally included in the supplement of missals and breviaries printed for use in the United States, since he is also the Patron Saint of the Diocese of St Cloud, Minnesota. The city’s name was chosen by a man of Huguenot ancestry, not in honor of the Saint, but from the name of the Parisian suburb where Napoleon had his favorite palace.

Clodoaldus was the youngest of three boys born to Clodomir, the second son of Clovis, King of the Franks, whose baptism heralded the general conversion of his people to Christianity. After the death of their father, the three boys were raised by their grandmother Clotilda, who is also a Saint. (The family’s penchant for names beginning in “Clo-” makes them rather hard to keep track of.) In the midst of the very complicated, and absolutely horrifying, dynastic struggles of the Merovingian kings, the two older brothers were murdered by their uncle Clotaire. Clodoaldus escaped to Provence, where he became a hermit, renouncing any idea of reclaiming the royal title and dignity that were rightfully his.

Part of a painting by Charles Durupt (1831) in the church of St Clodoaldus in St Cloud, France. The Saint is shown cutting his hair as a sign of his renunciation of his rights to the throne, consecrating himself to the monastic life. At the time, long hair was a privilege of princes. (Image from the church’s website.)

This was hardly typical of either the era or the family, and the Parisian Breviary of 1847 makes note it by saying that he “was not spurned by the world, as much as he spurned it.” After some time, he returned to Paris and set himself under the rule of a holy monk called Severinus; the place where he established his hermitage was later named for him, the future site of the aforementioned suburb. He was ordained a priest, and spent the rest of his short life in the religious instruction of the people, dying at the age of 36 ca. 560 A.D. The Parisian Breviary also notes that his relics were saved from the profanations that took place during the Revolution, and later exposed once again for the veneration of the faithful.

Relics of St Clodoaldus in the altar of the above-named church. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Reinhardhauke.)

Fr Alban Butler was an alumnus of the English College in Douai, France, and began working on his famous Lives of the Saints while serving there as a professor; he was later appointed to the English College at St Omer. Since these institutions in northern France were so important to English Catholicism in penal times, he understandably devotes a good deal of space to French Saints. The original version of his work contained a lot of material in the way of moral exhortation based on the Saints’ lives, material which Fr Herbert Thurston, S.J., and Donald Attwater removed almost completely when they revised it in the 20th century. One of the very few such passages which they retained was part of Butler’s entry for St Cloud, a quotation which he took from the 15th-century Italian humanist and scholar Pico della Mirandola. The wisdom of these words seems to me especially important today, when politics seems to have gained the power to spread into and poison everything.

“Many think it a man’s greatest happiness in this life to enjoy dignity and power and to live amid the riches and splendour of a court. Of these you know I have had a share; and I can assure you I could never find in my soul true satisfaction in anything but retreat and contemplation. I am persuaded that the Caesars, if they could speak from their sepulchres, would declare Pico more happy in his solitude than they were in the government of the world; and if the dead could return, they would choose the pangs of a second death rather than risk their salvation again in public offices.” Amen.

Durandus on the “Dominus Vobiscum”

Following up on last week’s Lost in Translation on the “Dominus Vobiscum”, here are some excerpts from William Durandus’ Rationale Divinorum Officiorum (IV, 14), the Summa Theologica of medieval liturgical commentaries, which explain its use and meaning in the rite of Mass

When the angelic hymn (i.e. the Gloria in excelsis) is finished, the priest, turning towards the people, greets them by saying, “The Lord be with you”, which is taken from the book of Ruth (2, 4), for thus do we read that Boaz greeted his harvesters. Likewise, the prophet in Chronicles (2 Par. 15, 2) greets king Asa and those who were with him, and the Angel greeting Gideon says, “The Lord be with you.” (Judges 6, 12) Boaz is a figure of the Savior, who took Ruth the woman of Moab as his wife, and this greeting signifies the greeting which Christ made to the Apostles after the Resurrection.

Landscape with Ruth and Boaz, ca. 1823-25, by the Austrian painter Joseph Anton Koch (1768-1839). 

Therefore, in all the prayers of the Mass the priest begins with “The Lord be with you”, (he lists the exceptions). For since through this greeting the wish is expressed that the Lord be with his people, and He is with them through the spirit of sevenfold grace, therefore the Church has ordained that the people be greeted in the Mass seven times.

5. The choir and the people answer “And with your spirit”, which is taken from the Second Epistle to Timothy (4, 22) in which is said, “The Lord Jesus Christ be with thy spirit,” for the mutual greetings of this sort signify that the priest and people must be of one mind. The meaning is, “You are about to make prayers for us to the Lord, and because the Lord God approves and hears only those prayers which come forth from a good heart, we likewise also pray for you, so that He without Whom there is no good thing may be with your spirit, and so that He who is with you in the mouth be also in the heart and remain in you.” … by this response the people refers itself solely to the action of sacrifice to which the priest goes forth, in which he must be wholly lifted up through the spirit, and completely separated from all earthly cares.

But after the choir answers, he turns towards the altar, that is to the east… and, as if he had very little confidence in his own goodness, he gathers to himself the whole Church, saying as the representative of all, “Let us pray.” This means, “Pray together with me, all of you, so that we may the more swiftly obtain what we ask,” since it is impossible that the multitude should not be heard… by saying, “Let us pray”, he exhorts others to pray, because Christ himself told his disciples to pray, saying, “Pray that ye enter not into temptation,” (Matt. 26, 41), Afterwards he prays because Christ afterwards prayed… we have this custom from the ancients, who regularly put “Let us pray” before their prayers.

7. The bishop … who must be perfect, and bears an express likeness to Christ, in order to show himself as the vicar of Christ, when he is about to pray the first time (at Mass) uses the word of the Lord, saying, “Peace be with you”, the first thing the Lord said to his disciples when He appeared to them after the resurrection. … but afterwards he says, “The Lord be with you” in the manner of other priests, to show that he is one of them.

8. A deacon does not say “The Lord be with you” at the Hours, since he does not thus bear the type of Christ … as the priests who use it in the person of Christ. However, he does say it when he is reading the Gospel, because then he fulfills the office of a preacher, and pronounces the teaching which comes immediately from Christ Himself. He also does this when blessing the paschal candle, because then he represents the resurrection of Christ. Now there are some who say nevertheless that in the Divine Offices which they are bound to say, they can licitly they say this, since we do not read that this is prohibited, but the general use of the Church contradicts this, so that they may know themselves to be inferior to the priests. (In Durandus’ time, there was no lack of priests to lead the Divine Office, but the Church did later change this custom generally, so that deacons would also say, “The Lord be with you” at the appointed places.)

9. It should be noted that the people are greeted seven times in the Mass, so that the seven capital vices may be excluded, and they may receive grace sevenfold, for the mystery of the Mass is referred to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

10. Now although we regularly turn our face towards those whom we greet, nevertheless the priest turns himself to the people only on the four of these occasions. For at the greeting which is done before the Gospel, he does not turn himself, because he is already intent on announcing the words of God. He also does not turn before the preface, for he is already intent upon the sacrifice of the altar; nor before the kiss of peace, because he already holds the Body of Christ in his hands, and has his heart lifted up to God, wholly intent on treating it with reverence; for no one putting his hand to the plow and looking backwards is fit for the Kingdom of God. (Luke 9, 62)

11. … the priest always turns to the people by the right, and turns back towards the altar on the same side, as if to say by doing this, “The right hand of the Lord hath wrought strength: the right hand of the Lord hath exalted me: the right hand of the Lord hath wrought strength.” (Ps. 117, 16) This also signifies that in the Lord’s tomb, the Angel sat on the right side. Thirdly, by this the priest indicates that he has a right intention for himself and for the people, which reaches out to the heavenly fatherland, which is signified by the right side according to the words of the Song of Songs (2, 6 and 8, 3), “His right hand shall embrace me.” … by turning and greeting the people and then turning back, he exhorts both himself and the people to pray, and prayer must be done for eternal things, which are signified by the right side, for which reason, Christ is said to sit at the right hand of the Father. … Nevertheless, after he says “Pray, brethren” he turns himself to the left … which is more imperfect and weaker, to denote the imperfection of any priest apart from Christ Himself.

Society for Catholic Liturgy Annual Conference, Houston, Texas, September 26-27

The Society for Catholic Liturgy will hold its annual conference at St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, Texas, on September 26 & 27. The theme this year is “Liturgy & the Human Imagination”; the conference is open to members and non-members alike, and will begin with a members-only reception and a talk by Joseph Pearce. Keynote addresses will be delivered by Drs. David Fagerberg and Alexander Lingas, along with over 35 paper presentations.

Attendees will also enjoy a live concert of Byzantine Chant directed by Dr Lingas and performed by his world class ensemble, Cappella Romana. Masses will be celebrated by Cardinal Daniel DiNardo and Archbishop Leonard Blair. Additionally, Studio io will provide a free guided tour of St. Mary’s at Texas A&M on the afternoon of Wednesday, September 25.

More information, including a full schedule, and the registration link can be found here: https://liturgysociety.org/page/Conference2024

The Church of the New Liturgy and the New Ecclesiology (Part 1)

We are very grateful to our founding editor, Mr Shawn Tribe, for sharing with us this article from his site Liturgical Arts Journal, his translation of an article originally written in French by Abbé Grégoire Celier. It forms a very illuminating collection of citations from protagonists and proponents of the post-Conciliar reform, some well-known, some less well-known, which demonstrate why they believed that the reform required old church buildings to be modified, and new ones to be built differently. Since it is fairly lengthy, it will be presented here on NLM in two parts. The paragraphs in italics after this one are Mr Tribe’s own prefatory material. – NLM editor.

This article was originally published in the March 2024 issue of “Lettre à nos frères prêtres” under the title “L’Église de la Nouvelle Liturgie.” The article is republished in English translation here with the kind permission of the author, Abbé Grégoire Celier.

By way of preface, the purpose of Abbé Celier’s article is to investigate the operative principles of many liturgists in the immediate wake that came after the Second Vatican Council, specifically as it related to its impact on the liturgical ordering and architecture of our churches.

Since the Second Vatican Council, many have debated the Council’s actual intentions. Some have understood the Second Vatican Council to be a kind of line, a Rubicon that was crossed, seeing it as a purposeful rupture from the Catholic past and the advent of a new and different church. This is the particular perspective you will encounter here being espoused by these liturgists -- and they celebrate and embrace this idea. In a certain sense their notions will be already quite familiar, in other instances, however, you might find the extent of some of their ideas downright shocking. It must also be noted that these liturgists maintain certain interpretations (for example the idea that the Council demanded ‘versus populum’) that have long since been challenged and proven to be, at very least, highly questionable. However, what is most important here is less the question of the accuracy of their ideas than the mere fact of them.

Whether their ideas about the official intentions for the liturgical reform (and its corresponding, downstream impact on Catholic architecture) were misguided, even willful misinterpretations, or whether they were actually ‘on point’, is an important discussion to have of course, but in order to fruitfully have that conversation, we first need to understand that these interpretations did in fact exist -- and were frequently acted upon. In our own day, much has recently been made of statements made by Arthur Cardinal Roche, current Prefect of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, who came out in opposition to the continued existence of the traditional Roman rite of liturgy, celebrated for so much of the Roman rite’s history, on the premise that it represented a fundamentally different ecclesiology and, as such, there was no room for it at the inn; it is something needing to be stamped out as incompatible with the new ecclesiology. Many rightly took issue with this idea, but what you will find here in this survey is that this is precisely what is espoused by these post-conciliar liturgists. It does, in fact, represent a particular post-conciliar school of thought -- one that Cardinal Roche and some others clearly adhere to and continue to attempt to impose.

Right or wrong, these were (and are) principles held to by some in positions of power within the Church in the decades following the Second Vatican Council. It is the ‘schema’ that defines their own particular approach toward the Church, her liturgy, the liturgical reforms, and yes, even the art, architecture and ordering within our churches.

What this should also reveal is that the popular, dismissive charge of “aestheticism” that is so often bandied about when matters of liturgy and architecture are raised is misguided and should be dropped. Form and content are indeed related. Externals do indeed matter. The medium is, at least in part, the message.

Many will already be aware of this relationship of course, but we can thank Abbé Celier for performing the invaluable service of collecting together these various sources for our consideration It is certainly a topic that would benefit from further, in depth study.

[NOTE: The images accompanying this article were not a part of the original article, nor were they selected by the author. These have been selected by LAJ purely for illustrative purposes.]

-- LAJ

* * *

THE CHURCH OF THE NEW LITURGY

by Abbé Grégoire Celier

Liturgical reform was one of the most important elements of the developments following the Second Vatican Council, if not the most significant. A quote from Paul VI, on January 13, 1965, among many other possible ones, opportunely reminds us of this: “The new religious pedagogy which the present liturgical renewal seeks to establish is grafted in, and almost taking the role of a central engine, in the great movement, inscribed in the constitutional principles of the Church of God, and made easier and more urgent by the progress of human culture [...]”

It is therefore a good idea, then, to look back at this liturgical reform, to gain a better understanding of its foundations, implications and results. We propose to do so here through the lens of the church building. The question of how the liturgy resulting from the Council is incorporated into churches built before the Council is particularly timely for assessing the changes brought about by the reform.

To this end, we have drawn on the reflections and remarks of the best liturgical specialists writing in the wake of Vatican II. They will enable us to identify the problems that arose as the new liturgical forms began to be celebrated, and to grasp in turn what the post-conciliar liturgical reform intends to put before our minds. As these texts were published during the two decades (1965-1985) when the liturgical reform was being implemented, they are written in the present or future tense rather than the past.

The Relationship of Form and Content

These authors begin by pointing out that a church, or any other building for that matter, reflects through its architecture the vision of those who built it. Built for a certain liturgy, a certain ceremonial, a certain theology, it necessarily expresses these values. Through its layout, it creates a particular climate, favourable to the execution of the form of religious expression that presided over its conception. Consequently, “it would be nonsense to take an interest in liturgy without worrying about the layout of the places where it takes place. For there is a profound affinity between the space designed according to art, and the liturgy that unfolds there” (E. Vauthier, ‘L’aménagement des églises’, Esprit et Vie - L’Ami du clergé 27, July 5, 1984, p. 393).

By its very nature, a building is a stable object that stands the test of time. “A building does not change like a rite” (Guy Oury, ‘L’aménagement des églises - Un aspect du renouveau liturgique’, L’Ami du clergé 6, February 10, 1966, p. 89). It thus carries the character of a particular period of the Church’s life into a time when, perhaps, the Church’s life has changed profoundly, which can cause a dissonance between form and content. In the wake of Vatican II, precisely because of the rapid and radical ritual (and theological) evolution, a new liturgy had been deployed in architectural spaces built according to other canons and for other uses. For “most of our places of worship were conceived and built centuries ago, sometimes for needs different from our own” (“Simple dialogue à propos de l’espace liturgique”, Communautés et Liturgies 6, Nov.-Dec. 1978, p. 545). Older buildings therefore proved more or less unsuited to the new norms of Christian celebration.

From this point of view, “a two-fold question arises: how to use the places of worship as they have been left to us, and how to design new ones more adapted to our urban way of life and to the situation of the Church today” (“Simple dialogue à propos de l’espace liturgique”, Communities and Liturgies 6, Nov.-Dec. 1978, p. 546).

The Church Building Furnishes A Certain Sense of God

From the outset, the question was: “How can we ensure that today’s liturgy unfolds as well as possible in a setting designed for the liturgy of other eras?” (“Le congrès d’art sacré d’Avignon”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 137, December 1978, p. 63). For, as Father [Yves] Congar noted of St. Peter’s in Rome (though his remark applies equally to other churches), “a whole ecclesiology is already inscribed in the layout of the place” (Yves Congar, Vatican II. Le concile au jour le jour, première session, Cerf-Plon, 1963, p. 23).

Father [Jean-Yves] Quellec explains very clearly what is at stake: “The external configuration of a building, the distribution and organization of its internal spaces, the style of the objects found within it, already form a more or less clear image of the God we encounter there. (...) The way we occupy the space of our churches, the way we arrange the furniture, the way we furnish the sanctuary, and the way we choose a cross, an icon or an altar, all have the implication that we are referring, whether consciously or unconsciously, to various imageries of the divine. It has frequently been pointed out that the image of Christ in the Eucharist is quite different depending on whether the altar resembles a simple table or a monumental tomb. (...) It should be noted that, in most cases, there was no opportunity to make choices revealing a spirituality: the church was received, almost as is, from those who designed and organized it. It should also be noted that, just as frequently, there is a sort of gap between the religious sensibilities and ideas of contemporaries and those that presided over the construction of a building” (Jean-Yves Quellec, ‘Le Dieu de nos églises’, Communautés et Liturgies 4, September 1981, p. 275 and 278).

For example, “the altarpieces of the 17th century, designed, as the Council of Trent requested, for adoration, represent a certain vision of faith. Today we have a different idea of the Real Presence” (Philippe Boitel, ‘Une église peut-elle être un musée?’, Informations catholiques internationales 402, February 15, 1972, p. 5). “Since the time of the Counter-Reformation, the tabernacle has often been linked to the main altar, with which it appeared as the vital centre of the building. But the current renewal of liturgical celebration, by restoring the proper value of each moment of the celebration, has put the spotlight back on the Lord’s other modes of presence” (“Vêtements, objets, espaces liturgiques”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 105, August 1973, p. 26).

Two Models of Church, Two Different Theologies

“The first vision of the Church, that of the pre-Vatican II period, corresponds, by way of example, to a church architecture in which the sanctuary is disproportionately enormous, well separated from the laity, dominating all of the faithful, an insignificant body (in the truest sense of the word) with an exaggerated head. The theology of Vatican II, on the other hand, corresponds to an architecture in which the sanctuary and nave are integrated seamlessly into a harmonious whole” (Lucien Deiss, Les ministères et les services dans la célébration liturgique, éditions du Levain, 1981, p. 8).

Sacred architecture “must present an image of the Church that is fully consistent with that which the liturgy, for its part, strives to convey” (Roger Béraudy, “Introduction” in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, p. 7). For this reason, “not even the layout of places of worship has not been affected by [the liturgical] renewal” (Charles Wackeinheim, Entre la routine et la magie, la messe, Centurion, 1982, p. 23).

Liturgical Reform Implies Changes to the Church Building

The only conceivable solution was to redefine the arrangement of the objects, and to reorganize the architectural space. However, this conversion was difficult, given the building’s characteristic inertia. “Since Vatican II, preaching and Eucharistic celebrations, for example, do not require quite the same movements as before” (“Le congrès d’art sacré d’Avignon”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 137, December 1978, p. 64).

“Since the liturgical reform has led to changes in the arrangement of [liturgical] space, we must realize that these changes are not without challenges, especially when they occur in buildings designed according to a different logic. For example, today we occupy places in this space where it was never intended that words be spoken. As such we do violence to the place. The violated architecture no longer resonates with the assembly. It can only do so - it can only respond - if we keep ourselves in the right place” (Paul Roland, ‘Libre propos sur l’espace liturgique’, Communautés et Liturgies 4, September 1981, p. 296).

The Changes Bring Challenges

“The problem of converting traditional churches is not a simple one, nor is it easy to solve. The shape of our old churches does not immediately lend itself to the changes desired by the Council” (Jean Huvelle, ‘Réforme liturgique et aménagement des églises’, Revue diocésaine de Tournai, 1965, p. 236). For example, “once the new altar has been installed [facing the people], it will be necessary to consider removing, moving or otherwise disposing of the old altar. Such an operation cannot be carried out without the advice of a competent architect. Church architecture has often been designed with the altar at the back of the sanctuary in mind. Changing the altar not only modifies the furnishings, but also transforms the architectural lines” (Thierry Maertens and Robert Gantoy, La nouvelle célébration liturgique et ses implications, Publications de Saint-André-Biblica, 1965, p. 57).

“Churches don’t lend themselves easily to uses other than those for which they were originally designed: in most of them, the building was designed “length-wise” for assemblies. For some time now, the layout of churches has been changing; they are designed for “width-wise” assemblies, where people can see each other, hear each other and communicate. Sometimes we can arrange an old church in this way: it’s always difficult” (“Bâtir une célébration”, Célébrer 151, April 1981, p. 14).

“It is quite certain that our beautiful, elongated churches, filled with a forest of pillars, are more conducive to solitary prayer than to the gathering of people; the new churches, on the contrary, prevent us from isolating ourselves” (Henri Denis, L’esprit de la réforme liturgique, Société nouvelle des imprimeries de la Loire Républicaine, 1965, p. 27).