Stabat Mater, the Hymn of the Virgin of Sorrows

Devotion to the Sorrows of the Virgin Mary originated in German-speaking lands in the early 15th-century, partly as a response to the iconoclasm of the Hussites, and partly out of the universal popular devotion to every aspect of Christ’s Passion, including the presence of His Mother, and thence to Her grief over the Passion. The feast that emerged as its formal liturgical expression of this devotion was known by several different titles, and kept on a wide variety of dates, but usually in Passiontide, or just after Easter. Before the name “Seven Sorrows” became common, it was most often called “the feast of the Virgin’s Compassion”, which is to say, of Her suffering together with Christ as She beheld the Passion. This title was retained well into the 20th century by the Dominicans, who also had an Office for it which was quite different from the Roman one, although the Mass was the same. It also appears in many missals of the 15th to 17th centuries only as a votive Mass, with no corresponding feast; this was the case at Sarum, where it is called “Compassionis sive Lamentationis B.M.V.” Its popularity continued to grow in the Tridentine period, until Pope Benedict XIII finally extended it to the whole of the Roman Rite in 1727.

The Virgin of Sorrows; the central panel of the Van Belle triptych by Pieter Poubus (1523 ca. - 1580); in the church of St James in Bruges, Belgium. There were different traditions as to which events in Our Lady’s life counted as Her Seven Sorrows; here they are (clockwise from lower left) the Circumcision, the Flight into Egypt, losing the Child Jesus, meeting Christ on the road to Calvary, the Crucifixion, the deposition from the Cross, and the entombment. The Roman version of the Passiontide feast contains no specific list. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

A second feast of the Seven Sorrows was promulgated in 1668 as the Patronal feast of the Servite Order, which was founded in the mid-13th century by seven Florentine noblemen, and soon spread all over Europe. (St Philip Benizi, who stands in their history as St Bernard does in that of the Cistercians, not their founder, but their most famous member, was almost elected Pope in 1271.) This order had always nourished a strong devotion to the Mother of Sorrows, and has its own rosary of the Seven Sorrows, and its own Marian stations of the Cross. Pope Pius VII added their version of the feast to the general calendar in 1814, after he returned from the exile in France shamefully visited upon him by Napoleon. Part of his reason for doing would certainly have been to ask the Virgin’s intercession and protection for the Church in the midst of the many horrors visited upon it by the French revolution and the subsequent wars. It was originally kept on the Third Sunday of September, as it had been first by the Servites, but when Pope St Pius X abolished the custom of fixing feasts to Sundays, it was placed on September 15th, the day after the Exaltation of the Cross.

As is often the case with later feasts, there was a considerable variety in the liturgical texts of the earlier version of the feast from one place to another, and between the traditions of the various religious orders. But of course, one of the most widespread was the hymn Stabat Mater Dolorosa, which is universally regarded as one of the great masterpieces of later medieval devotional poetry. The author of this hymn is unknown, and has been the subject of a great deal of scholarly conjecture. For a long time, many attributed it to a Franciscan friar name Jacopone da Todi (‘Big James from Todi’, about 80 miles north of Rome in Umbria; 1230 ca. – 1306); however, a fairly recent manuscript discovery has made this attribution untenable. Others have ascribed it to Pope Innocent III, who reigned from 1198-1216, and was certainly a very prolific writer in various genres, but this remains no more than a plausible conjecture.

In the Roman liturgical tradition, it is sung as a hymn in the Divine Office in one melody of the sixth Gregorian mode, and in another of the second mode as a Sequence at Mass, between the Alleluia and the Gospel.

Many great composers have also put their hand to setting it polyphonically, such as Josquin des Prez.

Palestrina’s version, composed shortly before his death in 1594, was traditionally sung in Rome on Palm Sunday.

One of the best known versions is by the Baroque composer Giovanni Battista Draghi (1710-36), who is generally known by the last name “Pergolesi”, after Pergola, the small town in the Italian Marches from which his family came. This was also composed very shortly before the author’s death, of tuberculosis at the age of only 26. This became the single most frequently printed work of sacred music in the 18th century, and, in the common fashion of the Baroque era, was reused by several other composers, including JS Bach, who turned the music into one of his German cantatas, albeit with a completely different text based on Psalm 50.

The Legend of the True Cross, by Agnolo Gaddi

Around the year 1385, the Florentine painter Agnolo Gaddi completed a cycle of paintings in the choir of the Franciscan basilica of the Holy Cross in his native city. These frescoes, which are very well preserved, are the earliest surviving Italian example of a cycle dedicated to the Legend of the True Cross, based on the stories collected in Bl. Jacopo da Voragine’s Golden Legend. Gaddi’s work is not as refined as that of the most famous version of this cycle, the one by Piero della Francesca in the basilica of St Francis in Arezzo. In a manner typical of the elaborately decorative International Gothic style, he tends to put too many figures into too small a space, which makes it difficult to read the story, especially in such a tall space. (The vault of the choir is almost 40m above the floor.) His work has also been overshadowed by some of the church’s many other artistic treasures, a few of which will be mentioned below. The eight panels are arranged in chronological order, first down the right wall, then down the left.

At the top of the first panel, Adam’s son Seth receives from the Archangel Michael a branch from the Tree of Life which grows in the Garden of Paradise; in the lower part, he plants the branch in the mouth of his dead father, who lies in his grave, with Eve mourning to the right. From this branch grows the tree which will become the wood of the Cross; the depiction of a skull at the base of Christ’s Cross derives from this legend. (In Gaddi’s time, the principles of one-point linear perspective had yet to be worked out; this is why Seth appears to be so much larger in the background than in the foreground, which should of course be done the other way around.)

Second panel – The tree lives until the time of Solomon, when it is cut down and part of it used to make a bridge. When the Queen of Sheba comes to visit Solomon, she “sees in the Spirit that the Savior of the world will be hung upon this wood”; she therefore refuses to step on it, but kneels in adoration. She then tells Solomon that someone will be hung on that wood, by whose death the kingdom of the Jews will be destroyed; the king therefore has it buried deep in the earth. (One version of the story adds that the queen had webbed feet, which were made normal by touching the wood.)

Third panel – The pool called Probatica which is mentioned in John 5, 2 is built on the place where the wood is buried; shortly before the time of Christ’s passion, the wood floats to the surface, and is used to make a cross, the one which will become His. In the background in the upper left are seen the sick people waiting for their chance to descend into the pool.

In the fourth panel, the narration switches direction, moving from right to left. The Empress Helena, mother of Constantine, discovers three crosses buried on the site of Mt Calvary; in order to determine which one is that of Christ, a dying woman is brought to the site, and completely healed at the touch of the third one. (The basilica of the Holy Cross was officially founded on May 3, 1294, the feast of the Finding of the Cross.)

Fifth panel, uppermost on the left side of the choir – St Helena brings the relics of the Cross into the newly constructed basilica of the Anastasis, which is usually called the Holy Sepulcher in the West. (The absence of linear perspective is especially notable in the improbably crooked buildings in the background.)

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Happy Birthday to Pope Leo!

Today our Holy Father Pope Leo celebrates his 70th birthday, his first birthday as Pope, on this feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. We know that our readers join us in offering prayers that God may bless and keep him, and strengthen him to lead the Church wisely and well. We also note than in three days’ time, he will celebrate his baptismal name-day on the post-Conciliar calendar, the feast of St Robert Bellarmine. Ad multos annos, sancte Pater!

The traditional prayers for the Pope said at Benediction and other occasions, from Pax inter Spinas, the printing house of the Monastère Saint-Benoît in Brignole, France.

Today is also the day on which the motu proprio Summorum Pontificum became legally active in 2007, a bit more than two months after it was promulgated. (This period, known as the vacatio legis, is a normal feature of wise acts of governance.) We hope and pray that Pope Leo will restore this most wise piece of legislation, (and perhaps put the traditional Roman Rite on an even more solid legal footing), and thereby restore to the Church some of the much-needed peace which Benedict XVI gave it. In the last several weeks and months, many prelates have expressed their sympathy for this idea; the latest, as reported by Diane Montagna, is His Eminence Angelo Cardinal Bagnasco, archbishop emeritus of Genoa, and a former president of the Italian Episcopal Conference. In an interview with the Italian newspaper Roma, he said, “I have never seen, and still do not see, how the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite … could cause problems. There are no risks or dangers if everything is approached calmly and with goodwill by all.” Indeed.

The headline of this article is “The Pope works to unite the Church”, and in connection with this, we note the following item from Vatican News. On Thursday, the Pope attended a meeting in the Vatican with several newly appointed bishops, during which, as the headline notes, he urged them to be “builders of bridges.” (This is, of course, the original meaning of the Latin word “pontifex”, which is used of all bishops, not just of the Pontifex Maximus.) And we note the following in particular:

If indeed the bishops are called to be builders of bridges, and if indeed young people are not satisfied with the typical (or, perhaps we could say “Ordinary” here) experience of our parishes, perhaps the time has come to stop expelling them from their parishes for the crime of wanting something Extraordinary. We very much hope that the welcoming back of the Summorum Pontificum pilgrimage to St Peter’s basilica is a sign for the good in this direction. 

The Dedication of the Holy Sepulchre

In the Byzantine Rite, there are three observances on the calendar today. The first is a very ancient feast adopted from the liturgical tradition of the city of Jerusalem, the annual commemoration of the dedication of the basilica of the Anastasis, which is now generally called in English “the church of the Holy Sepulchre.” This dedication was performed in the year 335 by the bishop of Jerusalem, St Macarius, in the presence of the Emperor Constantine, who had financed the building project. This church was completely destroyed in 1009 at the orders of the Muslim caliph; the building which stands on the site today is a replacement first completed about 40 years later, and has, of course, subsequently undergone innumerable modifications and renovations. (Photos of the Holy Sepulcher from a distance, on the left in the 1st photo, and of the Edicule and Rotunda, both by Fr Lawrence Lew, from this post of 2019: https://www.newliturgicalmovement.org/2019/05/photos-of-holy-land-from-fr-lew.html).

In the Byzantine liturgical ranking of feasts, Easter stands in a class by itself, followed by Twelve Great Feasts, eight of Our Lord and four of Our Lady. Most of these are preceded by a day of preparation called a Fore-feast, the equivalent of the vigils of the Roman Rite, and followed by an After-feast, the equivalent of a Roman octave, although they vary in length. Today is therefore also the Forefeast of the Exaltation of the Cross.

Many major feasts in the Byzantine Rite are followed immediately by a “synaxis” (“σύναξις” in Greek, “собóръ” in Church Slavonic), a commemoration of a sacred person who figures prominently in the feast, but who is, as it were, overshadowed by its principal subject. (Scholars of the Eastern rites also call them “concomitant feasts.”) This past Tuesday, for example, was the Synaxis of Ss Joachim and Anne, which is kept the day after the Birth of the Virgin Mary. Another is kept in honor of the Virgin Herself on the day after Christmas, another of St Gabriel on the day after the Annunciation, etc.

The Dedication of the Anastasis was one of the most important feasts in Jerusalem itself, and according to the oldest sources of the city’s native liturgical rite, was kept with an octave. (This rite is also known as the “Hagiopolite Rite”, from the Greek “Hagia polis – the Holy City.”) The Exaltation of the Cross began as a kind of synaxis or concomitant feast for this dedication, since the complex of the Anastasis also contained the site where the True Cross was found, and the Cross itself was long kept within it. In Byzantium, however, the Exaltation supplanted the dedication in importance, since the latter celebration was closely tied to the Holy City, but obviously less important outside it.

The chapel of the Finding of the Cross within the Holy Sepulcher, served by the Armenian Apostolic Church; from this post of photos by Nicola dei Grandi, also from 2019:
https://www.newliturgicalmovement.org/2019/04/a-visit-to-church-of-holy-sepulchre.html

The third feast of today is that of the centurion Cornelius who receives the Apostle Peter in his house in Acts 10. This makes for a very subtle and cleverly thought-out connection with the other two feasts. The liturgical texts of the dedication and the fore-feast refer several times to the conversion of the nations, as for example in the very first hymn of Vespers. (The text is taken from a sermon of St Gregory of Nazianzus, 44 “On the new Sunday”; P.G. XXXVI, col. 608.) 

“It was the old law that dedications be honored, and rightly so; all the more should the new things be honored through dedications, for ‘the islands are made new unto God’, as Isaiah saith, by which we should understand the churches now established from among the nations, which receive a firm foundation from God; wherefore, let us spiritually celebrate this present dedication.” (From 0:27 to 2:21 in this video: Ἐγκαίνια τιμᾶσθαι, παλαιὸς νόμος, καὶ καλῶς ἔχων· μᾶλλον δὲ τὰ νέα τιμᾶσθαι δι᾿ Ἐγκαινίων· ἐγκαινίζονται γὰρ νῆσοι πρὸς Θεόν, ὥς φησιν Ἡσαΐας· ἅς τινας ὑποληπτέον τὰς ἐξ ἐθνῶν Ἐκκλησίας, ἄρτι καθισταμένας, καὶ πῆξιν λαμβανούσας βάσιμον τῷ Θεῷ· διὸ καὶ ἡμεῖς τὰ παρόντα Ἐγκαίνια πνευματικῶς πανηγυρίσωμεν.)

Cornelius, an official representative of the Roman Empire, sends his men to fetch the Apostle Peter, the future bishop of Rome, and they find him praying in the house of Simon the Tanner at Joppe. There Peter receives the vision of the winding sheet, and learns from God Himself that the gentile nations are not required to keep the dietary restriction of the old law. The episode concludes with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the members of the house, and “the faithful of the circumcision, who came with Peter, were astonished, for that the grace of the Holy Ghost was poured out upon the gentiles also.” The conjunction of Cornelius’ feast with the other two therefore represents the Cross of Christ as the source of grace from which the nations are converted, the Church as the place of that conversion, and the church building as the visible sign of God’s enduring presence among them.

There is another important historical detail that ties into this theme. September 13th was the date on which the ancient Romans commemorated the dedication of one of their city’s most important temples, that of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill, where he was called “Jupiter Capitolinus.” This massive edifice and the complex that surrounded it were clearly visible from the heart of Rome’s public life, the Forum, but also from the foreigners’ quarter on the other side of the Tiber, where the Jews resided, and many of the earliest Christians among them. The historian Tacitus describes it by saying that “the enormous wealth of the Roman people acquired thereafter adorned rather than increased its splendor.” (Histories 3, 72)

The Roman Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, more or less as it would have been seen from an elevated point on the opposite side of the Tiber, with various other buildings. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

In 70 A.D., the Romans put down a great rebellion of the Jews that had broken out in Judaea four years earlier, and destroyed a considerable part of Jerusalem, including, most importantly, the temple. Sixty years later, the Emperor Hadrian decided to found a Roman colony on the site, which he called “Aelia Capitolina”, from his family name “Aelius”, and from a large temple to Jupiter Capitolinus which he built on or very near the site of the former Jewish temple. This may have been what provoked another rebellion in 132, which the Romans also put down with great violence, and after which, Jews were forbidden from entering the city except on the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, to mourn the destruction of the temple on its anniversary. The memory of “Jerusalem” as such was erased so completely that the Romans themselves even forgot the name. In 310, Firmilian, the governor of the Roman province of Palestine, arrested a large number of Christians, and when they were asked what city they were from, they replied “Jerusalem”, meaning the heavenly Jerusalem, which they said was “in the East” and belonged to Christians only. Firmilian, having never heard of this place before, took this to mean that the Christians had founded a new city, which enraged him to persecute them all the more fiercely. (Eusebius of Caesarea, The Martyrs of Palestine, 11, 8 sqq.)

Jerusalem in a mosaic map in the floor of the church of St George in Madaba, Jordan, ca. 570 A.D., discovered in 1884. The main street of the Roman city of Aelia is clearly visible running through the middle of it. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

With the coming of Constantine, however, and the liberation of the Church, there also began first era of major church constructions. After building six great basilicas in Rome, Constantine moved East to Byzantium, and built several more major churches on important Christian sites, including the Anastasis. This project would have entailed destroying Hadrian’s temple of Jupiter Capitolinus.

It seems very likely, therefore, that September 13th, the date of the dedication of the original Roman temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, was deliberately chosen for the dedication of the Anastasis, as a sign that Jerusalem was now definitively cleansed of the profanation inflicted on it by the Romans, and beginning a new life as a Christian city. This is also strongly suggested by the Greek word for dedication, “enkainia”, which derives from “kainos – new.” In John 10, 22, this word refers to a festival that commemorated the “renewal” of the temple under Judas Maccabee after it was profaned by the Greeks. In the same way, the “enkainia” of the Holy Sepulcher refers to the renewal of the specific site of the Anastasis, and by extension, of the entire Holy City, after its profanation by the Romans.

The Most Holy Name of Mary 2025

At that time: the Angel Gabriel was sent from God into a city of Galilee, called Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the Angel being come in, said unto her: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. Who having heard, was troubled at his saying, and thought with herself what manner of salutation this should be. And the Angel said to her: Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God. Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever. And of his kingdom there shall be no end.

The Annunciation, 1430 ca., by the Florentine painter Stefano d’Antonio di Vanni (1405 ca. - 1483); in the predella, the Birth, Presentation and Dormition of the Virgin. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

And Mary said to the Angel: How shall this be done, because I know not man? And the Angel answering, said to her: The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most High shall overshadow thee. And therefore also the Holy which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren: Because no word shall be impossible with God. And Mary said: Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word. (Luke 1, 26-38, the Gospel of the feast of the Most Holy Name of Mary.)

The Simili modo: Biblical Background

Lost in Translation #141

To turn a mixture of wine and water into the Blood of the Son of Man, the priest prays:

Símili modo postquam cenátum est, accipiens et hunc praeclárum cálicem in sanctas ac venerábiles manus suas: item tibi gratias agens, benedixit, deditque discípulis suis, dicens: Accípite, et bíbite ex eo omnes.

Hic est enim Calix Sánguinis mei, novi et aeterni testamenti: mysterium fídei: qui pro vobis et pro multis effundétur in remissiónem peccatórum.

Haec quotiescumque fecéritis, in mei memoriam faciétis.

Which I translate as:

In a similar way, after dinner, taking also this excellent chalice into His holy and venerable hands, again giving You thanks, He blessed it and gave it to His disciples saying: Take and drink from this, all of you.

For this is the Chalice of My Blood, of the new and everlasting covenant, the Mystery of Faith; which shall be poured forth for you and for many for the remission of sins.

As often as you do these things, you shall do them in memory of Me.

Today, we will examine the biblical background behind this prayer; next week, we will examine the Roman Canon’s modifications.

The Words of Institution for the Precious Blood in the New Testament are more peculiar than those for Our Lody’s Body. The Gospels according to Matthew and Mark have a straightforward formula: Hic est enim sanguis meus novi testamenti—“For this is My blood of the New Covenant” (Matt. 26, 28; see Mark 14, 24). But Luke’s Gospel and Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians have: “This chalice is the New Covenant in My Blood” (Luke 22, 20; see 1 Cor. 11, 25). The statement is sufficient for transubstantiation, but it is less direct; moreover, it draws attention to that which holds the Precious Blood, a manmade chalice, while there is no corresponding artifact of importance associated with the Host. (It rests at various times on the corporal and the paten, but neither is mentioned in the prayers). The Roman Canon follows the Lucan-Pauline tradition, although it also retains the word enim from Matthew’s account of the Last Supper (or perhaps it is a coincidence). St. Thomas Aquinas defends the formula Hic est enim Calix Sanguinis mei by arguing that the chalice is either a metonymy for Christ’s Blood or a reference to His Passion, for He referred to His Passion as a chalice (see Matt. 26, 39) and it was by virtue of His Passion that His Blood was separated from His Body. [1]

The Roman Canon follows Saints Luke and Paul in two other respects. First, both authors state that the consecration of the wine happened in a similar manner to that of the bread. The Vulgate uses the adverb similiter to express this fact, while the Canon uses the adjectival phrase simili modo.

Second, Saints Luke and Paul and the Roman Canon stipulate that the consecration of the wine took place after dinner. The Vulgate uses a simple means of communicating this fact with postquam coenavit or “After he dined.” The Canon, on the other hand, uses the impersonal passive voice, a construction popular in several languages in which the verb essentially has no subject. (The closest equivalent in English is the use of “there,” as in “There are no bananas.”) If one wanted to assert in Latin that a dance was going on, one would say saltatur, or “it is being danced.” In the case of the Canon, the phrase postquam cenatum est is most slavishly translated “after it was dined” or “after dinner took place.” The 2011 ICEL translation captures the flavor of the impersonal passive with its “when supper was ended.” Preconciliar hand Missals, on the other hand, often drew from the Vulgate phrasing and had “after He had supped.”

All four New Testament accounts identify Christ’s Blood as the Blood of the New Covenant; they do not do the same for Christ’s Body. Biblically speaking, blood is the sine qua non for contracting a covenant; indeed, the Hebrew phrase for making a covenant is “to cut a covenant.” With the exception of circumcision, Old Testament covenants were made with a vicarious victim. Here, Christ offers His own blood as an everlasting covenant for the remission of our sins. The significance is at least threefold.

The first is ablution and aspersion, washing and sprinkling. The flesh of the sacrificial lamb may have been eaten during the feast of Passover, but its blood was sprinkled on the doorposts, thereby averting the Angel of death. Similarly, St. Peter speaks of being sanctified for “the sprinkling of the Blood of Jesus Christ,” (1 Pet. 1, 2) while the Book of Revelation describes the Blood of the Lamb of God as washing the white robes of the saints. (7, 14; cf. 1, 5)

Second, the red Blood that washes white also redeems, buying us back from the slave block of the devil. In the Epistle to the Hebrews we read that “neither by the blood of goats or of calves, but by His own blood [Christ] entered once into the Holies, having obtained eternal redemption.” (Heb. 9, 12) One of the earliest epithets for the Savior’s Blood in Church parlance is pretium redemptionis nostrae, the “price of our redemption.”

Third, we remember the Atonement, with its teaching on sin and propitiation. The Blood forcibly reminds us of our shared responsibility in spilling it, and God’s mercy in accepting it as our reconciliation with Him. In the Book of Genesis, the blood of Abel “speaks” from the ground. (4, 10) What does it say? That Cain is guilty. Similarly, the Epistle to the Hebrews states that the Blood of Christ “speaks better” than Abel’s. (12, 24) What does it say? That we are guilty, but that we are also reconciled. Christ was wounded for our iniquities, (Is. 53, 5) but it is by these stripes that we are healed. (1 Pet. 2, 24) Hence, God proposes His Son as “a propitiation, through faith in His blood…for the remission of former sins.” (Rom. 3, 25)

As a sidenote, the differing qualities of body and blood are why it is appropriate to have separate feasts honoring Christ’s Eucharistic Body and His Precious Blood. For although to receive one is to receive the other (thanks to concomitance), the connotations of each are different. When we think of the Host, we think of spiritual food and, as the Feast of Corpus Christi puts it, a “pledge of our future glory,” that is, our glorified bodies. But when we think of the Precious Blood, we think of immolation, sprinkling, redemption, atonements, etc.

All three Gospels accounts use the verb fundetur or effundetur for what happens to this Blood; the Roman Canon uses effundetur. Although some preconciliar hand Missals translate effundetur as “shed,” the 2011 ICEL translation’s “poured out” is more accurate, for the verb effundere means to pour forth, rather than to cut into something and make blood flow. It is a fitting choice for the Blood that Our Lord shed, for indeed it was poured out like a libation. According to tradition, Jesus Christ was exsanguinated during His Passion, pouring forth every drop of His blood for the sake of humanity—even posthumously, His slain side issued forth blood and water. And “pouring out” also describes the movement of wine, first into the chalice and then into the mouth of the recipient.

Finally, the New Testament accounts give different answers to the question for whom this Blood is poured out. Matthew and Mark state that it is pro multis (“for many”), while Luke states that it is pro vobis (“for you”). Paul is silent on the matter; instead he writes: hoc facite quotiescumque bibetis, in meam commemorationem (“As often as you do these things, you shall do them in memory of Me.”). The Roman Canon combines all three elements into a seamless whole.

The translation of pro multis was once the subject of controversy, since the original ICEL rendered it “for all” instead of “for many” (the 2011 translation corrected this). Although God does indeed want all to be saved, (see 1 Tim. 2, 4) the translation shows a certain haughty disregard for the original meaning and raised fears that the heresy of universalism was being encouraged. My own sense is that the pro multis is not meant to weigh in on what percentage of the population is going to Heaven or Hell; rather, it is a statement about the scope of this New and Everlasting Covenant that is being cut. The Mosaic covenant, for example, was for the few, the tiny nation of Israel; the Davidic covenant was for the one, David himself. The New Covenant, by contrast, is not for the one or for the few; it is for the many, for Jew and Gentile alike. [2]

Notes

[1] Summa Theologiae III.78.3.ad 1.

[2] See [1] Summa Theologiae III.78.3.ad 8: “The blood of Christ’s Passion has its efficacy not merely in the elect among the Jews, to whom the blood of the Old Testament was exhibited, but also in the Gentiles; nor only in priests who consecrate this sacrament, and in those others who partake of it; but likewise in those for whom it is offered. And therefore He says expressly, ‘for you,’ the Jews, ‘and for many,’ namely the Gentiles; or, ‘for you’ who eat of it, and ‘for many,’ for whom it is offered.”

The Golden Codex of Echternach - A Gospel Book of the 11th Century (Part 2)

Following up on the first part of this article about the Golden Codex of Echternach (Codex Aureus Epternacensis), here are the images related to the Gospels of Matthew and Mark; Luke and John will be in the third and final part. This manuscript, which was made at the abbey of Echternach circa 1030-50, has many things in common with other illuminated gospel books of the period, but also one rather unusual characteristic. The pictures of stories from the Gospel are not spread through the book, placed with the corresponding text, but grouped together in four sets of four pages each, one set before each Gospel, and arranged in bands. These images run in the chronological order of Our Lord’s life (roughly), and are taken from all four Gospels simultaneously, and are one of its most interesting features. The manuscript is now kept at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg, and may be viewed in full at the following link: https://dlib.gnm.de/item/Hs156142.

The beginning of a prologue to the Gospel of Matthew.

The beginning of the list of its chapters, according to the system of the Eusebian canons (described in the previous article of this series.)

Each Gospel is also preceded by a pair of pages decorated with a reproduction of an extremely high quality textile of some sort.

The four pages of events of the life of Christ, before the text of the Gospel of Matthew itself. From top to bottom: the Annunciation and Visitation; the birth of Christ and the adoration of the shepherds; the Magi before King Herod.

Second page: the adoration of the Magi; the Magi are warned in a dream to return to their own country, and do so; the Presentation. Note that in the latter, the prophetess Anna is absent, and Simeon is not shown as an old man.

Third page: the dream of Joseph and the flight into Egypt; the Massacre of the Innocents; Christ in the synagogue at Nazareth (Luke 4, 14  sqq.) and His baptism.

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Chant Workshop in Nashville with Clear Creek Choirmaster, Nov. 14-16 (Notice of Date Change)

The church of the Assumption in Nashville, Tennessee is hosting a chant workshop the weekend of November 14-16, beginning at 6pm on Friday evening, continuing on Saturday morning and lasting into the afternoon, and concluding on Sunday with the chanted Mass, and Vespers and Benediction. It will include instruction from Br. Mark Bachmann, O.S.B., choirmaster of Clear Creek Abbey in Oklahoma. The weekend will offer something for both the musical novice or those new to singing chant, as well as more advanced singers, and will include both celebrations of the Holy Mass and of the Divine Office. This event was previously announced for the last weekend of September, but has been moved to this new date due to factors outside the church’s control.

The parish would like to make this a regular feature of its calendar, as it continues to celebrate the restoration of the parish church and its reopening on Laetare Sunday earlier this year. The modest fee of $60 covers lunch and the cost of printing the book. The registration link is HERE. Please see the flyer for more details and contact information.

Laus Beatae Mariae Virginis

We are now in the midst of an octave that contains three feasts of the Virgin Mary, her Nativity on September 8th, her Holy Name on the 12th, and the Seven Sorrows on the 15th. The historical starting point of this arrangement is of course the first of these, which was imported into the Roman Rite from the Byzantine tradition at the end of the 7th century, along with three other Marian feasts, the Annunciation, the Purification, and the Assumption. Unlike those other three, however, it was slow to catch on, and still not celebrated in many parts of western Europe even by the beginning of the 11th century. To a large degree, the impetus for its general acceptance came from the preaching of a Saint named Fulbert, who became bishop of Chartres in France in 1006, and held the see for 22 years. His city was already an important pilgrimage center because it possessed an object believed to be a garment of the Virgin Mary herself. Fulbert began rebuilding Chartres Cathedral after it was destroyed by a fire in 1020 in a much larger form, to accommodate the great crowds of pilgrims who came to venerate the relic. (As is so often the case with such projects, it was not completed until after his death. This new church in turn burned down in 1194, leading to the magnificent Gothic building which stands today, rightly recognized as one of the greatest architectural achievements of the Middle Ages.)

A stained glass window in the south ambulatory of Chartres Cathedral, known as Notre-Dame de la Belle Verrière (Our Lady of the Beautiful Window), or the Blue Virgin. The three large panels in the center were made in the 12th century, and are among the very few pieces of stained glass that were found to be salvageable from the fire of 1194 that destroyed the older church.

One of St Fulbert’s sermons about the Virgin Mary (PL 141, 338C etc.) came to be particularly well known, in part because it was somehow mistakenly attributed to St Augustine. Although it was originally preached on the Annunciation, the standard late medieval custom was to read it at Matins on the feast of Mary’s Nativity. In many churches (e.g. Notre-Dame in Paris), the peroration (or parts thereof) was read as the lessons of the Little Office of the Virgin. One section of it, (“Sancta Maria… commemorationem”) was also set to music and became of the most commonly used antiphons of the Divine Office.

“O beata Maria, quis tibi digne valeat jura gratiarum ac laudum рræconia impendere, quæ singulari tuo assensu mundo succurristi perdito? Quas tibi laudes fragilitas humani generis persolvat, quæ solo tuo commercio recuperandi aditum invenit? Accipe itaque quascumque exiles, quascumque meritis tuis impares gratiarum actiones: et cum susceperis vota, culpas nostras orando excusa. Admitte nostras preces intra sacrarium exauditionis, reporta nobis antidotum reconciliationis. Sit per te excusabile, quod per te ingerimus: fiat impetrabile quod fida mente poscimus. Accipe quod offerimus, redona quod rogamus; excusa quod timemus. Quia tu es spes unica peccatorum, per te speramus veniam delictorum; et in te, beatissima, nostrorum est exspectatio præmiorum. Sancta Maria, succurre miseris, juva pusillanimes, refove flebiles, ora pro populo, interveni pro clero, intercede pro devoto femineo sexu. Sentiant omnes tuum juvamen, quicumque celebrant tuam commemorationem. * Assiste parata votis poscentium, et repende omnibus optatum effectum. Sit tibi studium assidue orare pro populo Dei, quæ meruisti benedicta pretium ferre mundi.

The Gregorian antiphon Sancta Maria, succurre miseris.

A polyphonic setting of the same text as a motet by Victoria.

O blessed Mary, who might be able worthily to offer thee due thanks and praise, who by thy unique act of assent, didst come to the aid of a lost world? What praises might the frailty of the human race render to thee, which by thy exchange (with God), found the entrance to new life? Receive therefore these acts of thanksgivings, however meagre, however unequal to thy merits, and when thou shalt receive our request, do by thy prayers obtain pardon for our sins. Admit our supplications into the hallowed presence of thy hearing, give us in return the medicine of reconciliation. Let that prayer which we pour forth through thee find forgiveness, let us obtain what we ask with confidence. Receive what we offer, grant in return what we ask for, remit that which we fear, for thou art the only hope of sinners, through thee do we hope for the forgiveness of our crimes, and in thee, most blessed one, is the hope of our rewards. O Holy Mary, come to the aid of the wretched, help the fearful, comfort to the sorrowful, pray for the people, plead for the clergy, intercede for all devout women; may all that keep thy holy commemoration feel thy assistance. Readily accede to the prayers of those who ask, and render to all the desired effect. Be it thy care to constantly pray for the people of God, thou who are blessed, and merited to bear the ransom of the world.”

Implementing the Traditional (Pre-55) Roman Holy Week, Part 2 — Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday

(Continuing from Part 1.)

Holy Thursday

You probably have most of the materials needed for Thursday even if you have never done the 1955 Holy Week, only that of Paul VI; if you do not have an ombrellino, silk can be placed over a more ordinary umbrella… the veil for the second chalice really ought to be plain white, and you need wide ribbon, but a white chalice veil turned inside-out does in a pinch. Practice tying a bow beforehand, and make sure that the ribbon is suitably wide, lest your two left thumbs get in the way.

The Pange lingua gloriosi ought to be sung in alternation (cantors-all or men-women); this becomes particularly acute when the people are used to intoning themselves only part of it and not really knowing the melody as well as they think, having learned it orally. But hopefully no one insists on going on to Tantum ergo when either one must wait briefly or return to the second verse… Some instruction may be needed; otherwise, more musically advanced parishes may choose a polyphonic setting of the text to conclude the hymn.

Remember that it is not especially Roman for the thurifers to ever walk backwards. It is also easier to walk the normal way. When arranging the altar of repose, think of your future selves; flowers do not belong right in front of the altar. While the ideal altar of repose is temporary, as splendid as it ought to be, and does not use a tabernacle, but rather a sort of urn, it must lock, and the altar of repose needs to be reasonably out of the way. A side altar must do for many of us, and it can be quite splendid as shown in another example from the Institute of Christ the King. 

If the Mandatum is sung, I personally do not feel scrupulous about singing any particular antiphons and especially all of them. The music is meant to cover the time of the washing, nothing more or less, but Holy Thursday presents a special case. Choral enthusiasts have heard or even performed the Maurice Duruflé harmonization outside of the liturgy. The chant (harmonized or otherwise) is popular, well-known, beloved. It is fairly easy for experienced congregations to join at least the response portion, with the schola taking the verses. This makes it hard to insist on singing another antiphon first; one certainly will not have time after.

But should the Mandatum be done at all? It depends. Some pastors in the West (Europe and North America) are sensitive to not only not having ecclesiastical subordinates as does a bishop or religious superior, or at least the dean of a cathedral chapter, but that the otherwise natural replacement are children, not the men of the parish, and so they do not wish to touch the feet of the altar servers, at least the minors. Since most servers are boys, or at least will be some part of the contingent necessary for the Mandatum rite, then it is easy to justify omitting the rite. It is also optional. Now, most of this is optional as it is, but if one had to cut one thing from this week, it would be the Mandatum, if it meant preserving everything else including Vespers of Thursday and Friday.

Moving on to the stripping of the altars: my reading is that ps. 21 and its antiphon are sung recto tono, not with the chant from Good Friday’s Matins. The psalm need not be repeated, nor the repetition of antiphon delayed, if the carpet, some of the candlesticks, etc. are not removed promptly, so long as the ministers have finished removing the altar cloths and the major part of the work is completed.

More considerations on the Divine Office will follow, but I would strongly encourage you to sing, even recto tono, Vespers after the main liturgy on Thursday and Friday; on all three days of the Triduum, one could celebrate None beforehand, although this is not strictly required.

Good Friday

One does not need black falls for the legilia or covers for the missal. Everything is “naked” on this day. But what applies to purple folded chasubles applies to the black worn on this sacred day. The Good Friday celebrant’s chasuble should be even more splendid than usual if possible.

If you have adoration lasting into the night of Thursday, ending at midnight per the rubrics common to all variations of the Roman rite, then you will likely wish to change the candles and followers at the altar of repose before beginning the Mass of the Pre-Sanctified.

The choirmaster must work with the celebrant to give the right pitches for the unveiling of the cross. Try to roll with what he sings, not what you planned to sing.

Just as on Sunday and on Thursday, the music for the adoration covers the adoration itself. It need not extend beyond this, and should not, only to the extent that a chant should finish logically and polyphony should finish in its entirety, omitting subsequent chants or polyphonic settings. For example, one may end the Reproaches with one final “Popule meus,” one should repeat the antiphon Crucem tuam, and one should sing the (entire) Crux fidelis, but one need not sing all of the chants just to sing them, if adoration has concluded.

The books are clear: the people adore by genuflecting on both knees three times as they approach the single large crucifix placed on a cushion. Permission was given, admittedly, to pass down the communion rail a crucifix which essentially eliminates this creeping to the cross. But it happens once a year. It replaces communion on this day. This rite was broken in bits first in 1955, and in 1970, doing what Thomas Cranmer and his ilk wished to do but as it turns out from the inside. Unless there is an unusually large congregation (not realistic in most churches attached to the traditional rite and to the traditional Holy Week ceremonies), I would not recommend skipping the creeping of the cross in favor of the permission to move down the altar rail with a crucifix to be kissed by the faithful, but this requires coordination with ushers.

Should the people remove their shoes? I am in favor of this, and it may happen anyway, as they copy the clergy.

The rest of the rite is quite straightforward, so long as the Vexilla Regis begins only when the procession departs to return to the main altar. I hardly wish to touch the prayer for the Jews, but most clerics will probably use the 2007 prayer preceded by the genuflection as with the other prayers (keep in mind that this is the original pre-Carolingian practice).

Make sure you know that the tool used to light and extinguish candles is brought to the altar of repose for the actual Mass of the Presanctified when candles are lit at the same time that the cross is adored and, importantly, that it is returned to the sacristy before Tenebrae.

Holy Saturday

The triple candle is not easy to make. I do not make it myself. Various ways of heating the wax to twist three candles together including a sous-vide machine and using a weight system may work. I find that it is most in the spirit of things to have three candles in one, as opposed to three candles in a candelabra attached to a pole.

If possible, I encourage using a different dalmatic than the one for the Mass as seen here in photos from Saint Mary’s Oratory in Wausau, Wisconsin. A nice lampas could work too. The priest’s chasuble for the vigil itself is also especially striking.

Prepare the list of readers in advance. Some readings can be done by a chanter from the schola, but others are followed by tracts or are preceded by one. I do not think that forcing at most a handful of clerics to sing twelve readings is an ideal to which we should aspire. Laymen who can sing should be pressed into service.

For the procession and the blessing of the font, it may be necessary to begin the tract as the celebrant prepares and the candle is removed. Otherwise, the tract will be so long with the ministers left waiting at the font. If the Palestrina setting is sung, there is a second part in polyphony, or one may sing the chant.

The Litany is tricky. First, it seems that it may be started as the celebrant begins to process from the baptistry; he need not be prostrating at this point, if he blessed the font. Otherwise, it makes sense to wait, when the font is not blessed.

All of the invocations are doubled, that is, from “Pater de caelis…miserere nobis” to “Santa Maria, ora pro nobis” all the way to the end of the Litany, with the invocations “Ut…te rogamus audi nos” (possibly — probably — excluding the Agnus Dei; see below). This is entirely foreign to anyone used to the 1960 or 1970 rubrics. I find it best for cantors to sing and to reply to themselves, that is, they sing all of the first “Santa Maria, ora pro nobis” by themselves, and so on and so forth. Then the people only reply to the second invocation. Why? In part, to not mess up and to stay together. The chant books have breath marks omitted from missals in the last set, and then the people clearly hear the plural invocations of the saints (some pairs of saints invoked together, the “All ye…” concluding each section…).

Further, the cantors alone should restart at “Agnus Dei…” and in my ideal world, they sing until “Parce nobis, Domine” etc. The last invocation is not sung with the same melody as in Mass XVIII, so it needs to be taught to the congregation ahead of Holy Week. (One can send links via email newsletters and the various apps for parish communications; it might be helpful to do a series with recordings. A handful of parishioners in the pews who are prepared can make a difference.)  I cannot tell from the rubrics or from the ceremonials if the Agnus Dei strophes or the “Christe, audi nos”/“Christe, exaudi nos” are also doubled. To me, I think that they logically are not, but everything else is, so it feels inconsistent. In any case, some instruction on the chant of the Litany is needed.

The pitch will almost inevitably drop when doubling. I recommend starting on B flat or at least A and to correct the falling pitch at each new set (certainly by “Peccatores”…).

For the solemn Alleluia, the choirmaster must work with the celebrant to give the right pitches. Try to roll with what he sings, not what you planned to sing. In this case, feel free to intone for the repetition if the celebrant takes you too high such that the next two, or even the current one, are out of range. With this in mind, ideally, the bulk of tracts are sung in one key, but the verse and final tract follow the last pitch of the final Alleluia, and so they may be in a different key if you choose a more comfortable key for the others.

I personally prefer to omit the Marian antiphon, even if on Saturday there is not much congregational singing to do. In a way, Christ is not yet risen! Also, recessing to organ music is much easier after singing for three to four hours, and besides, the antiphon comes back after Compline, not Vespers, and we should respect this even outside of obligatory prayer of the office in choir.

We will conclude the series with Tenebrae and the Divine Office.

The Golden Codex of Echternach - A Gospel Book of the 11th Century (Part 1)

The Golden Codex of Echternach (Codex Aureus Epternacensis) is an illuminated gospel book made at the abbey of Echternach circa 1030-50. (The abbey is now located at the extreme east of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, barely a third of a mile from the German border; for a sense of historical perspective, it was founded in 700, more than two-and-a-half centuries before the fort that eventually became the duchy.) The word “golden” in its name refers not just to the extremely high quality of the decorations and images, but also, and indeed primarily, to the fact that the text is written out in gold ink. It is now kept at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg, and may be viewed at the following link in full: https://dlib.gnm.de/item/Hs156142

Usually, when I write about manuscripts of this sort, I give a selection of the images, but this one is so rich and beautiful that I am going to be much more comprehensive, and consequently, divide it into three posts; the first will cover all the prefatory materials, the second, the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, and the third, Luke and John. The cover was made about 50 years before the codex for a different manuscript, and has an ivory image of the Crucifixion mounted into the center of it, of uncertain age and origin. It is now displayed separate from the manuscript.

The first image in the manuscript is of Christ in majesty, surrounded by the symbols of the four Evangelists, and the four major prophets. The style here is very characteristic of the Ottonian period, which turned away to a large degree from the Carolingian interest in naturalistic art; the figures are stylized and essentially weightless.

A dedicatory inscription held up on a plaque by two angels, with representations of the four cardinal virtues in the middle of each side of the border.

The title page for St Jerome’s first preface to the Gospels...

and the opening words, “Beato Papae Damaso Hieronymus” (Jerome to the blessed Pope Damasus).

A second preface commonly included in Gospel manuscripts, and falsely attributed to Jerome.

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Reflecting the Hierarchy of Being in Visual Art

Or... Why How We Paint Christ Ought to Dictate How We Paint Everything

In this exploration of Christian art, I summarise the hierarchy of being according to Catholic theology, rooted in Thomistic philosophy of nature, which orders creation from inanimate matter, through plant life, animal life, and humanity, all directing us to Christ, the Creator, who is both perfect man and God. Authentic Christian art [1], shaped by a Catholic worldview and centuries of sacred tradition, reflects this hierarchy by balancing naturalism and idealism, uniting the material and spiritual dimensions of existence. As I explain, traditionally, this balance is first perfected in depictions of Christ, whose dual nature as divine and human sets the standard for all artistic representation. From liturgical icons to secular landscapes, Christian art organically reveals the Creator’s presence, bearing the mark of Christ in every aspect of creation. 

In writing this, as is always necessary in the blog format, I have made assertions that some might feel need justification. I have added numbered footnotes (in square brackets) with further reading for those who wish to delve further in this regard.

The Mocking of Christ, 1628-30, by the Flemish Baroque artist Sir Anthony Van Dyck

Naturalism and Idealism in Christian Art

Traditionally, Christian art has balanced naturalism – conformity to visual appearances – with idealism, a partial abstraction that deviates from strict adherence to visual appearances to suggest the existence of invisible truths associated with whatever is painted [2]. 

With the emergence of the dominant modern art movements of the 20th century, through to the present day, artists have typically rejected this approach, instead leaning toward one extreme or the other. Abstract Expressionism [3], for example, dissolves form into unrecognisable chaos, seeking to portray the soul detached from the body. At the other extreme, Photorealism, with its mechanical precision, reduces reality to mere matter, neglecting the spiritual dimension and presenting a world devoid of meaning. Both approaches conflict with the Catholic understanding of creation as a harmonious union of material and spiritual elements. 

Authentic Christian art integrates naturalism – ensuring subjects are recognisable – with idealism, stylising forms to convey invisible truths, such as the presence of a principle of animation in animal and plant life.

This balance is most fully realised in depictions of Christ [4], who, as the Creed states, is the one through whom “all things were made.” As both divine and human, Christ embodies the ultimate union of the created and the uncreated world. In the Eucharist, where He is present – body, soul, and divinity – liturgical art, designed to deepen our encounter with Him, becomes the highest form of Christian artistic expression. The style used to portray Christ, especially in liturgical contexts, sets the standard for all art, reflecting His dual nature and His role as the source of creation.

Crucifixion by Velázquez, 17th-century Spanish, in the Baroque style.

The Hierarchy of Being – How all created beings bear the mark of Christ, and the importance of this to artists.

Catholic theology recognises a hierarchy of being within creation, with Christ, its Creator, at the apex.

Christ possesses an immaterial divine nature and a human nature comprising both a material body and an immaterial, immortal soul. This Christology reveals Him as the node through which all created beings pass, uniting the material and spiritual in His person. We all unite the material body and the created spiritual soul in our human person. Christ unites this human nature to his uncreated (and therefore Divine) purely spiritual nature. He straddles, so to speak, the divide between heaven and earth. The divide he straddles is between divine and human nature, that is, uncreated and created existence. All of creation bears his mark, his thumbprint is on them as the clay pot bears the mark of the hands of the potter, but the fullness of being – created and uncreated is in Christ alone. All other created beings bear aspects of Christ without possessing existence in its fullness as Christ does. Christ is one with us in His humanity and one with God in His divinity.

Humanity is unique among material beings, possessing both a body and an immortal spiritual soul. The spirit of man, which St. Paul refers to in his letters to the Ephesians and the Hebrews, is the highest aspect of his soul, comprising the intellect and will (according to St Thomas writing in his commentaries on the Epistles), distinguishing humans from animals and all other material beings, and likening us to angels. [5] Angels are created beings, too, but are pure spirit. The reference to the spirit of man names the spiritual faculties of the soul, by which he can be taken up to supernatural destiny. It gives us the capacity for self-awareness – being “aware that we are aware” – and enables spiritual acts such as knowing and loving God, through the full exercise of the intellect and the will. The human soul, immaterial and immortal, survives bodily death and allows humans to engage in rational and volitional acts that animals, with their sensitive souls, which we will refer to in a moment, cannot perform.

The paragraph above describes man’s natural state, but through this capacity of the human spirit to relate and respond to God, Christians have the potential to be raised to a higher state by grace. Through grace, we are deified, partaking of the divine nature. This process is fully realised when we are united to God in heaven, experiencing the beatific vision, and, by degrees, increasing degrees in this life, to the extent that we remain on that path to heaven.

Below man in the hierarchy of being, animals possess what is referred to as a sensitive soul, enabling sensation and movement, but not the capacity to know and love God, which are the higher operations of the intellect and will present in the spirit of man.

Plant life, which sits below animals, has a vegetative soul, governing growth, nutrition, and reproduction, but lacking sensation and movement in the manner of animals.

Inanimate matter, though lacking a soul, which is the principle that gives life to those beings above it, nevertheless reflects the divine order through its conformity to the natural order in its internal structure, which we perceive when we apprehend its beauty. All created beings have an essence (from God) that gives them their defining characteristics. For living beings, that essence is called the soul. All inanimate beings have an essence (which, without ‘life’, is not called soul). Every created essence (with existence) reflects its Creator.

All creation, therefore, to varying degrees, bears the mark of Christ, its Creator. Each being possesses the faculties of all those below them in the hierarchy, with some additional higher faculties that distinguish the higher from the lower beings. Therefore, the human soul includes the powers of the vegetative and sensitive soul. These are assumed by the ‘higher’ soul and are raised to a human level. The one spiritual soul of man is the ‘form’ of the whole body. We are not an amalgam of different souls.

The beauty of the natural created order is in both his material body and his spiritual soul because they are both part of the created order. We perceive both when we interact with each other, and it is the duty of the artist who is devoted to representing what is true to indicate this somehow in the way he paints man.

Crucifixion by Federico Barocci, Italian, late 16th century, in the Baroque style.

This hierarchy of being informs a parallel hierarchy in Christian art. The style developed for depicting the person of Christ as a man – balancing naturalism and idealism – serves as the model for portraying saints, religious subjects, and secular forms, such as portraits, landscapes, and still lifes. Whether painting a saint or a flower, the Christian artist looks to Christ for inspiration and applies principles derived from liturgical art to each piece, ensuring that every work reflects Christ in a way that is appropriate to its subject and is rooted in and points to the Creator. Each subject, therefore, reflects this balance of naturalism and idealism as defined by the representation of the Creator.

The Eucharist as the Wellspring of Christian Culture

The Eucharist, where Christ is truly present, is the source and summit of the Catholic faith and fittingly the primary inspiration for Christian art. Liturgical art, therefore, particularly in Eucharistic contexts, shapes our approach to the mystery of God.

The purpose of liturgical art is to make visible in an image the realities that are otherwise invisible to us, to help us encounter Christ more profoundly in the Mass. Christ is present in the Eucharist, but under the appearance of bread and wine. Sacred art can sit alongside the Blessed Sacrament and show us Christ and, one might even say, supply in some reduced way the missing accidents – ie the outward appearance – of the person of Christ. This helps us grasp the mystery that Christ is present, body, soul, and divinity, in the Eucharist.

Similarly, liturgical art portrays the saints and angels in heaven who participate in the Mass, praying and worshipping alongside us, but are invisible to us. It also portrays the essential narratives of the feasts celebrated in the liturgical cycle and reflected in the rituals of the liturgy, in a way that makes the theological truths associated with the memorial more apparent.

Just as there is a hierarchy of being in the cosmos, so for men there is a hierarchy of activity, which has the worship of God at its pinnacle. Hence, by a similar argument, the form and content of art intended to help us encounter Christ in the Mass become the type for all art. That is, once again, the style used to paint Christ in these settings thus becomes the archetype for all artistic expression, manifesting His body, soul, and divinity.

The style with which we paint Christ for use in the liturgy becomes, therefore, the wellspring of Catholic art, with the stylistic elements cascading down into art for every other subject and every other purpose, as all, in the proper order of things, is derived from and points to Christ present in the Eucharist.

An authentic Christian tradition of art reflects this hierarchy of being and of human activity. An icon of Christ Pantocrator, with its stylised features and golden background, conveys His divine authority, while a Baroque painting of the Crucifixion, with dramatic chiaroscuro, emphasises His human suffering. Although each is very different in style, both unite naturalism and idealism to reveal Christ’s dual nature, guiding the faithful in worship [6]. This Eucharistic foundation extends to secular art. A landscape, with its harmonious compositions, or a still life of flowers, with its attention to natural beauty and symbolic meaning, reflects the same divine order seen in Christ.

The Baroque Style of Painting is Permeated with the Mark of Christ

To illustrate what I have described, let’s consider the Christian tradition of Baroque art. To be distinguished from other naturalistic styles that many this is the art of Frederico Barocci, Caravaggio, Vermeer, De La Tours, Velazquez, Rubens, Ribera, Reni and Tiepolo and Rembrandt and should be distinguished from other naturalistic styles such as Photorealism and 19th-century Realism (such as the work of Bougeureau, whom I consider the godfather of sentimental Catholic kitsch that became the standard for mid-20th century prayer cards).

This style of art was given impetus by some simple directives from the Council of Trent, which closed in 1565, and the Catholic Counter-Reformation that followed, aimed at serving the worship of the faithful in the liturgy. It took several decades for these directives to take hold and for a response to emerge concretely. The tradition evolved from the styles of the masters of the High Renaissance and other notable 16th-century painters, particularly Titian. The result of this integration was a distinctive new style developed first to serve Christian worship. What began as liturgical art, however, quickly became the standard for portraiture, landscape, and still life.

Protestant artists took to this new Catholic art form, too. The Dutch artists to the north of Italy, especially, saw this liturgical art style and, attracted by its power and beauty, quickly adapted it to their purposes, focusing especially on devotional religious art, portraiture and landscape, inadvertently bringing a Catholic form into their Protestant Christian culture.

Caravaggio is credited with popularising the style, beginning around 1600, but perhaps a better articulation of what became the baroque style was done slightly earlier by another Italian, Federico Barocci. (His first name is Federico, not Frederico!) Consider this painting, which depicts St. Jerome and was created in 1598.

Crucifixion by Federico Barocci, Italian, late 16th century, in the Baroque style.

I have never read any historical account that confirms this, but I have often wondered if the mysterious name for the style, baroque, is in part a play on Federico’s surname. Indeed, his work of this period bears all the hallmarks of the tradition and was pioneering. Notice certain features that are the hallmarks of baroque art, and consider that this is not a photographic type representation of nature at all:

The figure of St Jerome is painted with the most naturalistic coloration and is most brightly lit, most detailed in its rendering and most sharply focused. All of these devices are designed to draw the eye to the most important part of the composition.

He draws attention to the figure, further, by contrast with the background for which he uses a limited palette, in this case, one colour, sepia and which he varies tonally only. There is very little detail in the rendition of the background compared to, say, the face of St Jerome. Notice how the brightest colours are in the cloth next to St Jerome. And the sharpest contrast in tone is between the line that is on the edge of his right elbow and traces its way along his shoulder to a sharp point under the right ear. This leads our eye to the face. See also how this contrast is sharpened by making the background very dark immediately adjacent to this edge.

The focus, that is, the sharpness and clarity of expression, varies in different parts of the painting, too. The least focused parts are those on the periphery, and the most focused are those in the primary point of interest, the face and the hands of the saint. These are the primary points of interest within the saint because the face and gesture communicate most powerfully the mood of the person. This is how the artist communicates to the viewer of the painting that this is not a sterile wax model, but a living being with a soul. Ordinarily, we would discern this by observing a person in real time.

We see the same stylistic vocabulary in Rembrandt’s famous self-portrait:

…in a landscape by the Dutch 17th-century artist Albert Cuyp;

And in a still life by the French 18th-century artist Chardin:

To summarise, Christian artistic tradition, as exemplified by the Baroque, in art conforms to the principle that the way we paint Christ is the way we paint all of creation. By balancing naturalism and idealism, Christian art, especially in its liturgical forms, reveals the unity of material and spiritual. From those forms intended to help deepen the encounter with Christ in the Eucharist, the source and summit of the faith, flows a cascade of artistic expression that shapes sacred and secular art alike. Whether depicting a saint, a landscape, or a still life, the artist draws from the same principles used to portray Christ, ensuring that every work bears the mark of the Creator and invites the viewer to contemplate the beauty and truth of the Catholic faith.

Footnotes:

1. Art is not Christian simply because a Christian painted it, or because some Christians like it. There are criteria by which we can say that the content and form are consistent with the Catholic worldview. Regarding how we make a judgment on how both style and content of art conform to a Catholic worldview, read my book, The Way of Beauty, and for an introduction a past Substack: ‘Eastward Ho! How The Catholic Church Can Reestablish Its Liturgical Art Traditions to Replicate and Even Surpass the Glory of the Past.’

2. For details on how Christian art balances naturalism and idealism, read my previous Substack article, Both the Chaos of Jackson Pollock and the Sterility of Photorealism are Incompatible with Christianity.

3. For definitions of Abstract Expressionism and Photorealism, the 20th century art movements, I refer readers to the Tate Modern website, which as a museum that advocates for the value of such styles (unlike me), I will take as representing accurately what artists in those styles were aiming for.

4. For the conventions on how paintings of Christ reveal his human and divine nature, read a recent Substack article: ‘Visual Odes to Joy: How Sacred Art Reveals the Body, Soul and Divinity of Christ.’

5. St Thomas uses the word ‘spiritus’ to describe the human spirit. There is a tradition in Orthodox theology of using the Greek word, nous, to refer to the human spirit. Originating in ancient Greek thought, nous generally means “mind,” but in this context, it is usually used in the sense of “intellect,” or “reason”. For Aquinas, the will and intellect, which comprise the spirit, are not two separate “things”. The will is simply the appetite that flows from, and corresponds to, intellectual apprehension. This is why St. Thomas calls the will the “rational appetite,” which is the appetitive movement towards goodness apprehended by the intellect. The use of the word “nous” in the East to refer to this rational part in man is fitting, therefore, and, it seems to me, consistent with St Thomas’ approach.

6. For details on why the three liturgical traditions of the Catholic Church are considered the Iconographic, the Gothic and the Baroque styles, and how each balances naturalism and idealism, read my book The Way of Beauty.