Online Resources for Papal Ceremonies

The creators of the Poland-based website Caeremoniale Romanum have contacted us to share news of a couple of important new resources which they have recently added to the site.

At the following page: https://caeremonialeromanum.com/en/caeremonialia-papalia-dykmans/, you will find links to two different works by the Belgian Jesuit Fr Marc Dykmans. The first is his four volume series, “Le Cérémoniale papale de la fin du Moyen Âge à la Renaissance (Papal Ceremony from the end of the Middle Ages to the Renaissance)”, and the second is his edition (in two volumes) of the papal ceremonial of Agostino Piccolomini (died 1495), which became the basis of all the papal rites used in the Tridentine period. Note that these are critical editions of the relevant liturgical books in the original Latin, with copious notes, prefatory and explanatory in French. There is also a link to another ceremonial from one of the manuscripts in the Vatican Library (Urb. Lat. 469), which predates just predates Piccolomini’s reform, in the edition by Mons. Joaquim Nabuco.

The frontispiece of a copy of Piccolomini’s Caerimoniale, ca. 1500. The kneeling man, whose identity is unknown, presents a copy of the book to Cardinal Georges d’Amboise; the inscription says “My Lord, on my return from Rome, I give you this book.” (Bibliothèque nationale de France. Département des manuscrits. Latin 938)

The second page: https://caeremonialeromanum.com/en/sacramentaria-romana-sacramentarium-leonianum-gelasianum-gregorianum/ has links to two different editions of the so-called Leonine Sacramentary, three of the Old Gelasian, and three of the Gregorian. We have previously highlighted the editions of the first two by Leo Mohlberg, which are the most recent and up-to-date, but all the subsidiary material on both of them is in German.

As a reminder, the site also has a YouTube channel with many interesting videos of papal liturgies (and not only papal ones.) Since tomorrow marks the first anniversary of Pope Leo’s election, here is a brief one which they posted today of the three occasions in the current century (2005, 2013 and 2025) on which the papal MC pronounced “Extra omnes! - Everyone out!” before the conclaves began.

The Life of St Stanislaus Depicted on a Chasuble

On the general calendar of the Roman Rite, today is the feast of St Stanislaus (1030-79), a priest of Krakow who was well-known as an excellent preacher, and elected bishop of that see in 1072. The king of Poland at the time, Bolesław II, was a talented and capable man, but indulged in many evil deeds; he kidnapped a noblewoman after whom he lusted, and stole property from the Church. For this, Stanislaus excommunicated him, forbidding services to be celebrated in the Wawel Cathedral whenever he was present, in return for which, the king murdered him while he was in the midst of celebrating Mass. He has often been compared to St Thomas Becket, who likewise resisted the importunities of the sovereign against the Church.

St Stanislaus depicted in a manuscript of the Lives of the Bishops of Kraków by Jan Długosz, the principal source for his life, made in the 1530s for Bp Piotr Tomicki, who is depicted venerating him in the company of King Sigismund I and other dignitaries of the church and state. The tiny figure at his feet is the man whom he raised from the dead, as explained below. The inscription in the red plaque on the left reads, “Vir inclite Stanislae vita, signis, passione, gregem tuam, pastor bone, fove benedictione, guberna protectione, sana salva sancta intercessione. – O Stanislaus, renowned for your life, miracles and passion! O good shepherd, support your flock with your blessing, govern it with your protection, heal and save it through your holy intercession!” This is the antiphon at the Magnificat for Second Vespers of his proper Office used in Poland. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.) 

It has to be noted that many details of the lives of both men are regarded as historically very uncertain, not least the day of the Stanislaus’ death. The Roman Martyrology places it on May 8th, which is still to this day his feast day in Poland, but he was assigned to today on the general calendar because the 8th was already taken by the Apparition of St Michael. Other sources place it on April 11th, the date to which he has been moved in the post-Conciliar Rite. In his memoire (p. 318 of the English edition), Abp Bugnini notes that in response to the proposed degradation of all the Polish Saints on the general calendar to optional memorials, the bishops of Poland requested that at least one remain obligatory, so that “at least once a year the entire Church might recall how much Poland has suffered for its fidelity to the gospel.” Stanislaus was chosen, but, adding injury to insult, his new date means that his feast will be omitted or reduced to a commemoration in 2 years out of 3.

The treasury of the Wawel cathedral preserves an extraordinary chasuble, made in 1503 for the 250th anniversary of Stanislaus’ canonization, a donation of the governor of Krakow, Piotr Kmita. The main events of the Saint’s life are depicted in very high relief and incredibly complex embroidered panels, mounted on wooden boards, and detailed with pearls, and tiny accessories (like the chalice in one of the scenes) made by goldsmiths. Our thanks to the administrators of the cathedral’s Facebook page for their kind permission to reproduce these detailed photographs of it. Below, we have some photos by our own Nicola de’ Grandi of some other things pertinent to the Saint.

Starting from the bottom, Piotr Kmita is depicted holding his coat of arms.

In the second panel, St Stanislaus buys a village from a knight named Piotr, who dies soon thereafter.

Stanislaus, having been accused of fraud in the transaction, which the king used to justify his theft of the village, raises Piotr from the dead to bear witness to the legitimacy of the sale; in the following panel, the Saint brings him before the king. (Note the incredibly realistic representation of the dead man in both panels.)

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Feast of St John at the Latin Gate

John was an Apostle, an Evangelist, and a Prophet: an Apostle, because he wrote to the churches as a teacher; an Evangelist, because he wrote a book of the Gospels, which the other twelve Apostles did not do, apart from Matthew; and a Prophet, for on the island of Patmos, whither he had been banished by Domitian because of his testimony to the Lord, he beheld the Apocalypse, which contains such infinite mysteries of the future. And Tertullian says (De praescript. 36, ca. 200 A.D.) that at Rome, he was put into a vessel of boiling oil, but he came out cleaner and healthier than he went in.” (St Jerome in his treatise against Jovinian, the fifth lesson of Matins of the feast. In the homily on the day’s Gospel, St Matthew 20, 20-23, St Jerome explains the Lord’s prophecy to the sons of Zebedee that they will drink the cup of His Passion.)

The Martyrdom of St John the Evangelist, by Charles le Brun, 1641-42, from the church of St Nicholas du Chardonnet in Paris.

“The question arises how the sons of Zebedee, namely, James and John, drank the cup of martyrdom, since Scripture tells that only that James the Apostle was beheaded by Herod, but John died a natural death. But if we read the history of the Church, in which it is told that he also for the sake of his witness (to Christ) was cast into a vessel of boiling oil, and thence went forth as a champion of Christ to receive his crown, and was at once exiled to the island of Patmos, we see that his spirit did not fail at the prospect of martyrdom, and that John did drink the cup of confession that the three children in the fiery furnace also drank, although the persecutor did not shed their blood.” (Commentary on Matthew, book 3, chap. 20)

The right wing of the St John Altarpiece, by Hans Memling, ca. 1479, showing the Apostle John and his vision of the Trinity.

From the lessons at Matins cited above, one would reasonably assume that the principle object of today’s feast is the Apostle’s martyrdom. However, in the Pre-Tridentine Roman Breviary, different lessons were read which make no mention of it, although it is spoken of in the Magnificat antiphon, which carried over into the Breviary of St Pius V: “In ferventis olei dolium missus beatus Joannes Apostolus, divina se protegente gratia, illaesus exivit, alleluia. - Cast into a pot of boiling oil, the blessed Apostle John, protected by divine grace, came out unharmed, alleluia.” From its first appearance in the late 8th-century, it is known as the feast of St John “before the Latin Gate”, even though the walls of which the Latin Gate are a part were built 200 years after St John’s time. The feast therefore most likely originated, like many secondary feasts, as the dedication feast of the small church built in St John’s honor near the Latin Gate, and was only later associated with the episode of the pot of oil.

The church of St John at the Latin Gate is the station church of the Saturday before Palm Sunday, here photographed by our Roman pilgrim friend Agnese on that occasion in 2014. (interior below)

Next door to the main church is the small oratory known as “Saint John in oleo”, said to be on the very spot where the pot of oil was set up; it is attributed to Donatello Bramante, the original architect in charge of rebuilding St Peter’s Basilica in the early 16th-century.

It is also unlikely a mere coincidence that the Byzantine Rite also keeps a secondary feast of St John only two days later. His principal feast is on September 26; since the Byzantine liturgical year begins on September 1st, he is the first in the year among the Twelve Apostles. On May 8th, a commemoration is made of a miracle whereby a manna-like substance came forth from his tomb in the city of Ephesus, which healed the faithful both physically and spiritually. This day was already occupied in the West, from very ancient times, by the feast of the Apparition of St Michael, and this might explain the slight discrepancy in the dates.

St John the Evangelist writing his Gospel on a scroll, ca. 1450, by the Cretan icon painter Andreas Ritzos (1421-92)  

Introducing the Thomistic Artists Guild, with Upcoming Conference and Competitions

NLM received the following notice from Fr. James O’Reilly, FSSP, and is pleased to share it with the public.

Where has beauty in the arts gone? Buildings are gray, woke agendas are tied to a film’s plot, and classical music usually has one or two channels on public radio. Western Civilization experienced a Renaissance before and it is time for another one to begin. Great works of art were often made in prior ages and with the help of God, we can encourage the next generation of artists to make beautiful art once again.

For those of you interested in promoting beauty and excellence in the fine arts, I encourage you to become patrons for the Thomistic Artists Guild, INC. We are a nonprofit organization based in Los Angeles that is currently seeking status as a Public Association of the Faithful so we can open up local chapters outside of California.

The five points of our vision are as follows:

• Praying for artists
• Fostering appreciation for the fine arts
• Assisting artists find morally sound work
• Preserving reverence for the Church’s patrimony
• Evangelizing through the fine arts

The Guild is under the patronage of St. Thomas Aquinas because we are encouraging artists to make art with the components of beauty (due proportion, clarity, and integrity) that Thomas writes about. We also have been inspired by Dr. Daniel McInerny’s book Beauty and Imitation to see the seven main types of fine art (music, literature, sculpture, film, theater, painting, and architecture) as mimetic arts that tell our story to pursue happiness, ultimately eternal beatitude in heaven. Guild members make art through this mimetic lens and encourage fellow artists to do the same.

Our Guild members also have a great affinity toward the Vetus Ordo due to its high degree of beauty and the impact it has had on artists throughout history. The Traditional Latin Mass brings many artists to encounter Beauty itself in the Sacred Liturgy which inspires them to make works of art containing due proportion, clarity, and integrity. Michelangelo, Vivaldi, and Tolkien regularly worshiped at the TLM when their artistic masterpieces were made. I hope that future Guild members and patrons are also inspired in their artwork due to their love for the Church’s liturgical patrimony. Many members of Thomistic Artists Guild regularly worship God with the TLM and in turn bring true excellence to their artistic disciplines such as theater, film, music, and painting.

Even if you are not an artist yourself, you are welcome to join the Guild as a patron to help us live out our mission. More information about becoming a patron can be found on the Guild’s website.

Previous performances and lectures can be found on the Guild’s YouTube page.

Our first ever “Art and Virtue” conference will be held on May 30th at St. Vitus Catholic Church in Los Angeles. The day begins with a Dominican Rite High Mass followed by a series of presentations, live music, and poetry writing. Thomas Mirus from the Catholic Culture podcast will be the main keynote speaker and will discuss the role of virtue in the life of artists. Elena Roche and Professor Anthony Grumbine are the other two speakers as well. Cash prizes will be awarded for the poetry and art competitions.

Sign up for the art competition here.

Sign up for the poetry competition here.

Please keep the Thomistic Artist Guild in your prayers and pray that artists follow Thomas’ principles of beauty in their artwork!

God our Father, we see the beauty in the world you created. Please guide the actions of Catholic artists, that they may cultivate fine art that glorifies You and promotes virtuous living among others. Help them foster works of art containing due proportion, clarity, and integrity so others may be inspired to be with the source of Beauty itself. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. 

(Thomistic Artists Guild Prayer)

Abbé Henri Dutilliet’s “Little Liturgical Catechism” Now in English

On this feast of St. Pius V, I am pleased to share with NLM readers the latest release from Os Justi Press, Abbé Henri Dutilliet’s Little Liturgical Catechism. Inspired by the efforts of Dom Prosper Guéranger, Dutilliet’s remarkable work, first published in French in 1860, offers a comprehensive distillation of the Roman liturgy and the Church’s annual cycle of worship.

This fine but forgotten book was rediscovered by the decadent-novelist-turned-Benedictine-oblate Joris-Karl Huysmans, who saw it back into print in 1896 as a remedy for “ignorance of the Sacred Liturgy.” Nor has the need for education ceased 130 years later, when the traditional rite so beautifully expounded in these pages has returned to so many churches. It is thus fitting to bring Dutilliet’s marvelous aid to light for our times, even as Huysmans did for his.

Expanded with notes that explain unfamiliar terms or point out differences between various editions of the old Roman rite, this first-ever English translation of Dutilliet’s text offers the faithful “the enduring enchantment of the admirable year of the Church” and the understanding that “all in her worship is full of meaning; nothing is left to hazard; no detail, however minute, is without purpose.”

The book is enriched by a substantial appendix that offers a catechism in Ecclesiastical Chant.

Reading the Little Liturgical Catechism is a painless way to acquire much learning in a short time. It would be especially useful to seminarians, MCs, altar servers, musicians, and catechists or religious educators, not to mention bookstores or bookstands.

Augustin Hacquard, bishop of Verdun, described this book as “the fruit of serious research, composed with as much method as precision. We commend this valuable work alike to those who instruct and to those who seek to be instructed.” Frédéric Victor Duval praised it in like manner: “This booklet is very appealing due to its catechetical form. If it were more widely distributed, Catholics would follow the services with greater enthusiasm, and their piety, less ignorant of the liturgy, would be deeper and more lively.”

You may “look inside” the publication at this link, but here are a few sample photos for convenience:

Also of possible interest to readers, here are some other recent publications:

Continue Reading this Article. . .

A New Commission by Artist Henry Wingate: Our Lady of La Vang for Holy Rosary Church, Houston

I was delighted to hear from an old friend, Henry Wingate, who wanted to tell me about his latest project, a painting of Our Lady of La Vang, commissioned by Holy Rosary Church, in Houston, Texas.

I will admit that I didn’t know anything about this apparition and what follows comes from the Wikipedia entry, which I am trusting is accurate.

“Our Lady of La Vang is a Marian apparition associated with the Vietnamese Catholics. The event is traditionally dated to 1798, during a period of severe persecution under the Nguyen Dynasty, when a group of Catholic faithful had fled into the jungle of La Vang in Quảng Trị Province in central Vietnam.

Suffering from illness and living in constant fear of discovery, they gathered to pray the rosary together. According to the account handed down, a woman appeared to them, dressed in the traditional Vietnamese áo dài and holding the Child Jesus, accompanied by angels. She consoled the refugees, instructed them to gather and boil the leaves of local plants as a remedy for their illnesses, and promised that prayers offered there would be answered. 

The apparition has not received formal Vatican approval, and it remains a pious tradition rather than a defined private revelation. Nonetheless, the site became a place of pilgrimage, and a church was eventually built there, destroyed during the Vietnam War, and later rebuilt. Our Lady of La Vang was declared patroness of Vietnam by the Vietnamese bishops, and the feast is kept on 15 August. For Vietnamese Catholics, both in Vietnam and in diaspora communities around the world, the apparition carries particular weight as a sign of consolation given during persecution - a pattern familiar from other Marian appearances in the tradition.”

See more of Henry’s work at henrywingate.com.

The Legend of St Judah Cyriacus

On May 4th, the Martyrology contains a seemingly very ordinary entry about a saint named Cyriacus: “At Jerusalem (the birth into heaven) of St Cyriacus the bishop, who was slain there under Julian the Apostate when he was visiting the holy places.” But behind this there lies a very remarkable hagiographical confusion, which is connected to the previous day’s feast of the Finding of the Holy Cross.

The fifteenth bishop of Jerusalem, and the last man of Jewish descent to hold that office, was a certain Judah, who is mentioned in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History (IV, 5). He is also traditionally said to be a descendant of the Lord’s family, the great-grandson of the Apostle Jude, and was therefore known by the epithet “Kyriakos”, meaning “of the Lord.” Eusebius also says that he lived at the time of the second great rebellion of the Jews against Roman rule (132-35), known after its leader as the Bar-Kochba rebellion. After this was put down, Jews were forbidden to live in the city, and thus he could no longer serve as its bishop; he was therefore replaced by a man named Marcus, and lived out the rest of his days in Galilee.

(Pictured right: St Judah Cyriacus, 1620-25, by the Venetian painter Iacopo Negretti (1548/50-1628), commonly known as Palma il Giovane; in the sacristy of the Jesuit church of the Assumption in Venice. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

But Kyriakos, written as “Cyriacus” in Latin, was not an unusual name among Christians in the ancient world. Twelve others who bear it are listed in the Martyrology, (plus three women named Cyriaca), and three others who are called by a slightly latinized form “Quiriacus.” One of these is a bishop of Ancona, a city on the Adriatic coast of Italy, about 166 miles to the north-northeast of Rome, who is supposed to have lived in the mid-4th century. And somehow, despite the two centuries that separate them in time, he was confused with the Lord’s kinsman who bears his name as an epithet.

Per se, this is not a particularly unusual thing. Much of what the Middle Ages knew of ancient history, especially regarding less prominent figures such as a random bishop of a small port city, was mixed up in a giant chronological muddle. A similar and very famous confusion took place between a missionary named Dionysius sent to Gaul in the mid-3rd century and his Biblical namesake in the latter part of Acts 17. But what makes this case so interesting is how it became tangled up with the story of the finding of the True Cross.

An aerial view of the cathedral of Ancona, dedicated to St Judah Cyriacus, from a postcard made in the 1960s. The local tradition holds that the relics of the Saint were given to the city by the Roman Empress Galla Placidia in the first half of the 5th century. 

After the Bar-Kochba rebellion, the Romans destroyed the ancient city of Jerusalem in a very Roman fashion, by basically choosing a level, shaving off everything higher than that level, and building a giant platform, on top of which they then constructed a new city. This means that the Jerusalem which Our Lord and the Apostles knew, including Calvary and the tomb, was essentially buried under it. After that point, although the Church might well have preserved the memory of the places where the events narrated in the Gospels and Acts happened, the original sites would no longer have been accessible.

In his wonderful novel Helena, a fictionalized account of the holy empress’ life and the finding of the Cross, Evelyn Waugh describes this situation very beautifully. Helena asks the writer Lactantius how the Church knows that the events of Jesus’ life really took place, and he replies:

“We have the accounts written by witnesses. Besides that there is the living memory of the Church. We have knowledge handed down from father to son, invisible places marked by memory – the cave where he was born, the tomb where his body was laid, the grave of Peter. … If you want to visit the holy places you must find the right man. He can tell you, so many paces to the east from such and such a stone, where the shadow falls at sunrise on such and such a day. A few families know these things and they see to it that their children learn the instructions. One day when the Church is free and open there will be no need for such devices.”

St Helena, 1495, by Cima da Conegliano. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

Now the Church historian Sozomen reports (II.1) that the location of Calvary was “disclosed by a Hebrew who dwelt in the East, and who derived his information from some documents which had come to him by paternal inheritance.” This may well represent a memory of the Lord’s family keeping record of the place, such as the aforementioned Judah Kyriakos, although Sozomen himself doubted the truth of the story.

But in the early medieval retelling of the story, the version which carries over into the Golden Legend, when St Helena went to find the Cross, some of the Jewish leaders knew where it was, but refused to tell her, so she threatened to have them all burned alive. They therefore handed over to her one of their number, a man named Judah, whom she had lowered into a well and left for several days, until he agreed to reveal its location. This distasteful episode furnished the antiphons for Lauds, Vespers and the minor Hours of the Finding of the Cross in the pre-Tridentine Roman Breviary; the second, for example, reads, “Then she ordered them all to be burned, but they, being fearful, handed over Judas, alleluia.” (In Clement VIII’s revision of the Tridentine Breviary, these antiphons were all replaced with those of the Exaltation.)

Judah being lowered into the well, part of the cycle of paintings which depict the legend of the Cross by Piero della Francesca (after 1447), in the basilica of St Francis in Arezzo.

The story goes on that this Judah converted to Christianity, eventually became bishop of Jerusalem, and was then martyred under Julian the Apostate. And thus we find the following passage in William Durandus’ entry on the Finding of the Cross.

“The cross was found at the time of Pope Eusebius by the blessed Helena, the mother of Constantine, with the assistance of Judah, who was then a Jew… (of whom) it is read that, having converted to the faith, he afterwards was made bishop of Jerusalem, and having changed his name, was called Quiriacus. It is said that the devil prophesied about him, ‘A Judah handed Christ over to death, but this Judah exalted him when he was dead… but Julian, my servant and friend, will soon be king, and avenge me upon this one.’ This took place when a monk called Julian, apostatizing from the order, by crime required attained the Roman consulship, and thence having become emperor, and a persecutor of the Christians, afflicted him with various punishments and ordered him to be killed. It is also said that a certain soldier by the name of Quiriacus afterwards killed Julian, from whose tomb in Constantinople there comes forth an intolerable stench.” (Rat. Div. Off. VII, 11, 3-5)

The Martyrdom of St Judah Quiriacus, depicted on an altar frontal made in the 12th century in Catalonia, now in the Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya in Barcelona. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Picturesque as this story may be, no part of it can possibly be true, and it should stand as a caution about the uncritical acceptance of hagiographical legends, even when they come from the pen of a luminary like Durandus. There was indeed a pope called Eusebius, who reigned for 19 months in the years 309-10, well before St Helena went to the Holy Land. It hardly needs saying that the emperor Julian the Apostate was never a monk. His brief reign (Nov. 361 – June 363) falls entirely within the much longer tenure of a bishop of Jerusalem called Cyril (350 ca. – 386), who outlived him by twenty-three years, and is, of course, a Saint and Doctor of the Church. (Cyril is “Kyrillos” in Greek, which might well have been confused with “Kyriakos” in some way.)

There is no solid historical foundation for the tradition that it was a Christian soldier who killed Julian, but in the East, where this tradition is accepted, the soldier’s name is given as Mercurius, not Quiriacus or one of its variants. Julian was originally buried in the city of Tarsus in modern Turkey, but his remains were later moved to Constantinople. The Byzantine chronicler John Zonaras (ca. 1070 – 1140) reports that his sarcophagus stood in a colonnade near the church of the Twelve Apostles. This church was also the imperial mausoleum, and it is impossible to suppose that the emperors would leave near it anything that emitted an intolerable stench.

A porphyry sarcophagus which is believed to have been that of Julian the Apostate, which is now in the Istanbul Archeological Museum in Constantinople. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Apaleutos25, CC BY-SA 4.0.)

Abbot Primate of the Benedictines: “Mass in the Old Rite Can No Longer Be Eliminated”

We are very pleased to note the following from an interview which the Benedictine Abbot Primate, Dom Jeremias Schröder, gave to the website katholische.de, (an official organ of the Catholic Church in Germany), which was published on Saturday. Dom Schröder comes from the archabbey of St Ottilien in Upper Bavaria; he was elected the 11th abbot primate on September 14, 2024. By a happy providence or coincidence, this is also the date that Summorum Pontificum became legally active in 2007, and the birthday of the Holy Father, Pope Leo.

When asked whether the co-existence of the traditional and modern rites created conflict among the Benedictines, Dom Schröder stated, “I don’t see a conflict there. Among us Benedictines, the traditional and modern liturgies coexist harmoniously. In our entire order, we have about ten abbeys that celebrate according to the old rite, most of them in France. These predominantly belong to the Congregation of Solesmes, where, however, the majority of monasteries use the new missal. Starting with the Abbey of Fontgombault, a group of monasteries has emerged that celebrate according to the old rite. They are fully integrated into their congregation. Then there is the abbey of Le Barroux with its daughter houses, which was initially Lefebvrian in orientation. After the illicit episcopal consecrations of 1988, the monastery returned to full communion with Rome and is directly under my authority as Abbot Primate. And then there is the community in Norcia. We all treat each other with respect.”

Then, when asked whether in this regard, the Benedictines “can serve as a model for the entire Church?”, Dom Schröder replied, “In a certain sense, yes, because we already practice this peaceful coexistence. I am very curious to see how Pope Leo will address the issue. After Pope Benedict opened doors here, it will no longer be possible to completely eradicate the old form. We have brothers and sisters who have built their religious lives on this form of prayer and Mass. This has now also gained a place in the Church and should be permitted, at least in some areas.” (In both paragraphs, this is Google’s automatic translation.) 

The text I have bolded above is of course an editorial “my emphasis”, but it is not just my emphasis. It is also the headline for the interview chosen by both katholische.de itself, and by Avvenire, the official news service of the Italian Bishops’ Conference, for summary of it given in Italian on their website. So in both cases, this was the main thing which the editors decided to highlight as the most notable aspect of the interview.  

It bears repeating in this context that both the German and Italian bishops as a whole, while not known for any particular sympathy to the traditional liturgy, have been for the most part blessedly indifferent to the most obvious failure of the previous pontificate. I also note that the abbot primate resides at the abbey of Sant’ Anselmo in Rome, and is chancellor of the its liturgical athenaeum, which has long been one of the centers of opposition to Pope Benedict and Summorum Pontificum. Both sites accompanied their articles with the same photo of the abbot standing in the abbey’s cloister. Perhaps, then, we may take this as another encouraging sign that the Church’s internecine conflict over the traditional liturgy, which was deliberate rekindled almost five years ago, will not last far into its sixth year. And in this regard, let us remember to pray continually for the Holy Father, that the Holy Spirit may inspire to make the right decision, and repeal Traditionis Custodes completely.

And I therefore also make bold to remind our readers of these prayers for the Pope which are traditionally said at services like Benediction, and can of course be said privately any time.

A Legend of St Helena, the Discoverer of the True Cross

The Basilica of the Holy Cross, the main church of the Franciscan Order in Florence, was founded on May 3rd, the feast of the Finding of the Cross, in 1294. Last September, on the Exaltation of the Cross, I posted pictures of the frescoes which the painter Agnolo Gaddi added to the main choir around the year 1385, a cycle that depicts the Legend of the True Cross. The Franciscans were extremely important patrons of the arts in that era, and the basilica is so rich in artworks that it would take several posts to list and describe them all. Here are some pictures from one of the side-chapels, which I am posting today because they are marginally connected to the story of the Finding of the Cross.

The Bardi di Vernio chapel, located in the left transept, is dedicated to Pope St Sylvester I, and was decorated with stories of his life around the year 1335 by Maso di Banco; very little is known about this painter, but he is generally regarded as one of the most talented of Giotto’s followers. (“Maso” was a common Tuscan nickname for “Tommaso.”) This fresco, which is obviously very damaged, depicts the story that the Emperor Constantine, still a pagan and a persecutor of the Church (which he never was in reality) had leprosy, and had been advised by his doctors to bath in the blood of infants to cure it. Many Romans did believe in this kind of sympathetic magic, and while this particular story is certainly a later legend, it is by no means wholly implausible on this point. In this version, which was also read in the Roman Breviary before the Tridentine reform, Constantine was so moved by the weeping of the infants’ mothers that he refusing to commit this terrible crime. One of the great innovations of Giotto’s painting was the use of facial expressions to tell his story, which we see here imitated by Maso in the group of mothers on the right.

The Apostles Peter and Paul appear to Constantine in a dream, and tell him to seek out the Pope, St Sylvester, who is hiding from the persecution on Mt Soracte to the north of Rome, and that the Pope will cure him of his leprosy.

On the left side, Constantine meets Pope Sylvester, who shows him an image of the two Apostles; since he recognizes them as the men who had appeared to him in his dream, he agrees to be baptized, at which his leprosy is indeed cured. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The story that follows (which in the chapel is directly beneath the previous one) is the part of the legend that connects with the Finding of the Cross. Constantine’s mother, the dowager Empress Helena, holds a debate to determine which of the two monotheistic religions, Christianity, represented by the Pope and his cardinals (on the left), or Judaism, represented by a group of rabbis (on the right), is true. When the rabbis have been bested by the Pope at every point in the debate (which is recounted at wearisome length in The Golden Legend), one of them decides to prove the truth of Judaism by whispering what he claims to be the Divine Name into the ear of a ferocious bull, which immediately dies. However, Sylvester then whispers into its ear “O name of cursing and death, go out by the command of the Lord Jesus Christ, in Whose name I say to thee: o bull, arise, and return in all mildness to thy flock.” The bull immediately comes back to life and walks away. Helena and all those present, including the rabbis, become Christians; she then goes on her great expedition to the Holy Land, where she discovers the site of Mt Calvary and the relics of the True Cross. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Ss Athanasius of Alexandria and Gregory of Nazianzus

Today is the feast of St Athanasius, Patriarch of Alexandria and Doctor of the Church, the foremost champion of the true Faith during the great crisis caused by the heretic Arius in the 4th century. May 2nd is universally recognized to be the day of his death; there is a particular fittingness to celebrating him on this date, one week after the feast of St Mark the Evangelist, the founder of the See of Alexandria, as a sign of continuity between the Gospel and Nicene orthodoxy. The Roman Rite shares this arrangement with the Coptic calendar and the Byzantine, although in the latter, today is noted as the feast of the translation of Athanasius’ relics; his principal feast, which he shares with another Patriarch of Alexandria and Doctor, St Cyril, is on January 18th. Likewise, the western Church keeps the feast of St Gregory of Nazianzus on May 9th, a week after Athanasius, as a sign that he inherited his mantle as the greatest theological writer in the controversies over the Trinity and Incarnation. His feast is also kept one week after Athanasius’ in the Byzantine Rite, on January 25th.

Ss Athanasius and Cyril, from the Menologion of Basil II, 985 AD: public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

St Athanasius was always known to the western Church from his Life of St Anthony, which was translated into Latin close to the time of death in 373; St Augustine mentions it in the Confessions. However, many of his most important theological works were not known to the West until the 15th century; in the writings of St Thomas Aquinas, for example, St John Chrysostom is mentioned about 20 times more often. His feast does occur in western liturgical books of the pre-Tridentine period, but almost exclusively in France and Spain, and almost never before the later decades of the 15th century; it does not appear to have been kept at all in Rome.

Much the same holds true for St Gregory of Nazianzus. He was known to the West from the mentions of him in the writings of his student, St Jerome, e.g. in the well-known treatise On Virginity against Jovinian, and the book On Illustrious Men, in which he calls him “a most eloquent man.” But again, very little of his writing was translated into Latin, and he is mentioned by St Thomas even less often than St Athanasius. Before the Tridentine reform, his feast was kept almost nowhere outside Spain, and even there, only from the very beginning of the 16th century.

In 1568, when Pope St Pius V, fulfilling a request of the Council of Trent, published a revision of the Roman Breviary, both Saints were included not just as bishops and confessors, but also as Doctors of the Church, and at the highest of three grades of feasts. The same titles and rank were also given to Ss Basil the Great and John Chrysostom; among these four, only Chrysostom had been widely celebrated with a feast thitherto. Up to that point, the title “Doctor”, and the use of the liturgical texts associated with it, had been formally granted to only four Saints whose writings were always particularly influential in the West, Ss Gregory the Great, Ambrose, Augustine and Jerome.

In the Counter-Reformation, the Roman Catholic Church was greatly concerned to assert that its traditional doctrines were those held “always, everywhere and by all”, and not medieval corruptions, as the early Protestants often claimed. The pairing of four Eastern Doctors with the traditional four Western Doctors therefore asserted the universality of those teachings which were held by Rome and defended by the Council of Trent, and also held by the Eastern churches. The inclusion of St Thomas Aquinas among them then asserted the continuity in teaching between the patristic and medieval Church, also frequently denied by the Protestants. Three of these new Eastern Doctors also have special connections to Rome and the papacy. During the second of his five exiles, St Athanasius was a guest of Pope St Julius I, who defended him against the Arian heretics; relics of Ss John Chrysostom and Gregory of Nazianzus were saved from the iconoclasts in the 8th century and brought to Rome, later to be placed in St Peter’s Basilica.

The Gregorian Chapel in St Peter’s Basilica, built by Pope Gregory XIII to house the relics of his namesake of Nazianzus, which he translated here from the Roman church of Santa Maria in Campo Marzo in 1580.

Furthermore, these same Fathers are witnesses not just to Catholic teachings that the early Protestants rejected, but to others like the Trinity and Incarnation, which they not only accepted, but considered necessary for salvation. This was of course one of the strongest points in the Catholic Church’s favor during the controversies of the 16th century: if one accepts Athanasius, for example, as a witness to the doctrine of the Trinity, on what grounds does one reject him when he says, “So long as the prayers of supplication and entreaties have not been made, there is only bread and wine. But after the great and wonderful prayers have been completed, then the bread is become the Body, and the wine the Blood, of our Lord Jesus Christ”? If one accepts Basil’s defense of the divinity of the Holy Spirit, on what grounds does one reject his teaching that “It is necessary to confess our sins to those whom the dispensation of God’s mysteries is entrusted”? And more broadly, once the Fathers have been admitted as witnesses to the Christian Faith at all, one has in effect admitted a tradition, by which the teachings of some Christians in antiquity are recognized to be true, and those of others false, a further undermining of the original logical impossibility known as sola Scriptura.

There is an aspect of St Gregory of Nazianus’ career in particular which is less well known than his role as a theologian, and which should perhaps be better known today.

For most of the half century after the death of Constantine in 337, the Roman Emperors were supporters of Arianism, rather than of the orthodox faith. It should therefore not surprise anyone that the see of the imperial capital was dominated for most of that period by Arian bishops. However, with the death in 378 of the Emperor Valens, an enthusiastic persecutor of the orthodox, and the accession of Theodosius I, the tide began to turn strongly against the Arians. St Gregory, having retired some years earlier from a bishopric which he had been practically forced into, was then living a quiet and contemplative life in a monastery near Seleucia on the southern coast of Asia Minor, over 400 miles away from the capital. A number of Catholic bishops, anxious to reestablish the true faith in Constantinople, suggested that he come to the city, not as its bishop, but as a missionary; as with his earlier bishopric, he was prevailed upon to take up this new role only with the greatest reluctance.

The consecration of St Gregory of Nazianzus as a bishop, depicted in a manuscript of his writings copied out in Constantinople between 879 and 883. (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des Manuscrits, Grec 510, f. 452r)

Gregory was accepted by almost none of the city’s clergy, and had access to none of its many churches; as Butler’s Lives of the Saints puts it, he was a bishop in Constantinople, but not the bishop of Constantinople. He therefore opened a small chapel attached to the house of a relative, which he called “Anastasis – the Resurrection”, a sign that it would become the place from which the true faith would rise again. His preaching, and especially the series of sermons on the Trinity, was in fact incredibly effective; more and more people were attracted by his eloquence, and his flock began to grow.

This brought with it many difficulties, of course, including persecution from the Arians and other heretics, which more than once came to physical violence, as well as calumnies and insults. At the Easter vigil during his first year in the city, the Arians broke into his church; Gregory himself was wounded, and another bishop present was killed. But among his many disciples, he would soon come to number not only St Jerome, but also Evagrius of Pontus, who would himself become one of the most influential theologians of the era.

The following year, Theodosius, newly baptized by an orthodox bishop, issued the Edict of Thessalonica, recognizing as the true faith “that religion which was delivered to the Romans by the divine Apostle Peter, as it has been preserved by faithful tradition, and which is now professed by the Pontiff Damasus and by Peter, Bishop of Alexandria.” Towards the end of the year, on arriving in Constantinople, he expelled the Arian bishop for refusing to embrace the Nicene confession of faith, and set Gregory in his place. It may seem that this victory was short-lived; within a few months, in the midst of every sort of intrigue and new acts of violence, Gregory obtained the emperor’s permission to resign his see and return to Nazianzus. But in point of fact, it did not matter. At the very moment when it seemed that heresy had triumphed in one of the most important and influential sees of Christendom, the true faith was reborn from a single place, and largely through the work of single man. Nor was this the first or last time such an event happened in the life of the Church. Let it therefore be an object lesson to us, never to despair over the sorry condition in which the Church finds itself in a particular time and place, including our own.

Relics of the Virgin Mary and St Joseph in Rome

There is a famous Italian saying about Rome, “Una vita non basta – one life is not enough”, i.e., to see everything worth seeing in the Eternal City. Today I was reminded how true this is when I saw these images shared on social media by an old friend, Mr John Sonnen, he of Orbis Catholicus fame. Despite having visited all the major churches of Rome countless times, and many of the minor ones, I never knew that the basilica of Saint Anastasia on the edge of the Palatine Hill has these relics, which are purported to be part of a veil which belonged to the Virgin Mary, and the cloak of St Joseph, brought to Rome by St Jerome in the later fourth century. My thanks to Mr Sonnen for sharing with us his pictures of the reliquary, which has been exposed for the veneration of the faithful today, the feast of St Joseph the Worker. (The cloak is in the lower part.)

Francis X. Weiser, SJ, the Domestic Heortologist, Part Two: Liturgiology

Soon I discovered that most people have no clear notion of the origin, background, and true meaning of these customs which they observe in their homes. Since the great majority of our Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and other observances actually go back to the inspiration of liturgical thought and symbolism, I judged it a worthwhile subject to explain. Also a priestly subject; for, given the fact that our popular customs contain the radiation of the liturgy, the understanding of this radiation would make the celebration of our Christian feasts within the family warmer, holier, and more truly joyful. At the same time, a better grasp of the religious meaning and message of our family customs would give parents valuable help for the religious training of their little ones.

--Rev. Francis X. Weiser, SJ

Last week, we surveyed the life and writings of Fr. Francis X. Weiser, SJ, whom we have dubbed “The Domestic Heortologist.” This, week, we examine the principles undergirding his work on the liturgical year.

In the paragraph cited above, Weiser outlines four features of his liturgical works that are worth examining in detail (albeit in a different order): 1) an explanation of customs to correct widespread ignorance; 2) the formation of children; 3) the radiation of the liturgy; and 4) an emerging American melting pot of devotional practices. To these we add a fifth: Weiser’s relationship to the Liturgical Movement.

1. Correction of Ignorance

Weiser begins his Holyday Book thus:

“Many people celebrate the holydays and know their names; but of their history, meaning and origin they know nothing … Truly, such ignorance deserves to be blamed and ridiculed” – St. John Chrysostom … This book was written to provide the information which St. John would have wished the faithful to possess.

Like other voices in the Liturgical Movement, Weiser placed a premium on a historical understanding of liturgical and paraliturgical practices, and lamented the lack of historical accuracy in much of the literature on the subject. On one end of the spectrum are “viciously false” attempts to trace every Christian holiday to a pagan source; on the other are pious “etiological” explanations that substitute for careful historical research. Weiser sought a middle ground between these two extremes.

2. Formation of Children

In his publications and in his forty-year pastoral ministry to college students in Austria and the United States, Fr Weiser had an abiding interest in the formation of Catholic youth, and he saw his liturgical writings as a part of that apostolate. In one of his last books on the Church year, he writes:

Happy the children who grow up in a home that is rich in traditional celebrations! Their lives will be more full and radiant through the inspiration of this childhood experience. Faith, culture, emotional security, absorbing joy, satisfaction of mind and heart, a warm spirit of love and union in the family, sound development of character and personality traits, appreciation of true values: these are some of the fruits which a childhood of such joyful family celebrations produces.

Weiser also believed that filling a home with liturgical joy was a form of evangelization. In his most popular juvenile fiction novel, Das Licht der Berge, the initially agnostic narrator Fritz describes the effect that his cousin’s pious home had on his brother Otto. Their cousin’s family observes a traditional Christmas Eve, which includes elaborately decorating the manger scene. Fritz notes that “Otto went about the job with the utmost interest. I could notice how his soul was opening out as a result of the religious atmosphere he breathed in this house.” Fritz would eventually be caught up by the same breath as well.

3. Radiation of the Liturgy

The religious atmosphere that Weiser describes is one that is informed by sacred liturgy (its rites and calendar) but separate from it. A phrase that he uses to describe the relationship between the Church’s official ceremonies and the laity’s domestic devotions is “the radiation of the liturgy into Catholic homes.” As he explains:

The radiation of liturgy has created many symbols, customs, and traditions that have enriched the observance of festive days and seasons in home and community, and remnants of pre-Christian lore have, in most cases, assumed new meanings and motivations through the influence of liturgical thought and celebration.

Therefore, Weiser concludes, understanding

this radiation would make the celebration of our Christian feasts within the family warmer, holier, and more truly joyful. At the same time, a better grasp of the religious meaning and message of our family customs would give parents valuable help for the religious training of their little ones.

Weiser’s works have been described as a study of the paraliturgical, but since the word, for some at least, denotes practices in opposition to the official liturgy, perhaps the better term is “periliturgical,” that is, customs surrounding the liturgy, like rays around the sun. In any event, his interest in the subject was shared by many Americans in the post-war era. As Msgr. Luigi G. Ligutti, leader of the Catholic rural life movement in the United States, writes in his preface to Florence Berger’s 1949 Cooking for Christ:

This book is an extension of the Missal, Breviary and Ritual because the Christian home is an extension of the Mass, choir and sacramentals. … Liturgical seasons or feast days were intended not merely for church and cloister. To be fully effective and enjoyable, they have to wrap kitchen and commons in their colorful mantle. The motto of the National Catholic Rural Life Conference is “Christ to the Country and the Country to Christ.” We paraphrase it here by saying “Christ to the Kitchen and the Kitchen to Christ.” This is reverent as well as simple.

Berger herself is more succinct: “If I am to carry Christ home with me from the altar, I am afraid He will have to come to the kitchen because much of my time is spent there.” In many respects, Weiser wrote his liturgical books for readers like Florence Berger.

4. The Melting Pot

Weiser describes American holiday life as one that is “molded into one unit out of the best national Christmas lore of various immigrant groups.” Our author wished to contribute to this eclectic molding by making people aware of the Christian meaning behind ethnic lore. His writing is at times nostalgic, but it is not antiquarian or archeologist. Despite his fond boyhood memory of the visit of St. Nicholas, for example, he does not advocate the restoration of this practice but rather “a revival of the veneration and annual celebration of the Saint, who is still patron of little children.”

Weiser was hardly alone in trying to create an American melting pot from international Catholic customs. As early as 1941, fellow emigrees like Therese Mueller published her Family Life in Christ. Of her Claudio Salvucci writes:

Having watched European parents relinquish their children’s Catholic upbringing to religious institutions, only to see the secularization of those institutions, she was keen on giving Catholicism a solid grounding within the home, including celebrating feasts, praying the Office, and maintaining a home altar. Mueller popularized the German Advent Wreath in the United States and helped standardize its violet and pink candles as an antidote to the “horrible, secularized, commercialized Santa Claus, more and more shameful each year.”

An American development: the violet and rose Advent calendar

Possibly the most famous author of this period was Weiser’s friend Maria von Trapp, who in 1955 wrote Around the Year with the Trapp Family, a compendium of periliturgical devotions. Again Salvucci:

Like Mueller, she was a German-speaking emigrant from the Hitler regime, and she had an existing, deeply Catholic Austrian cultural bank to draw from that her American friends admired. They said to her: “These lovely old folk customs of yours–couldn’t they be introduced in our homes too? They really are not necessarily Austrian or Polish or Italian–they are Catholic, which is universal.”

Kathryn A. Johnson notes that this chapter of American Catholic history was marked by a “shift from ethnic communities with special religious traditions to a ‘melting-pot’ approach to family rituals” and that popular literature was an important catalyst in this transition:

In the mid 1950s, for example, two manuals, Rev. Francis Weiser’s Religious Customs in the Family and Rev. Bernward Stokes’ How to Make Your House a Home, were published as aids “for persons whose duty it is to shape and mold the character of children.” These books covered the teaching of both general customs, like the sign of the cross and the sacraments, and special seasonal rituals, including Christmas traditions, Holy Week, and the customs of Lent. These books, and literally thousands of other books and articles—the Family Life Bureau alone published five books on family liturgical practices—taught Catholic parents “modern” ways to incorporate older customs into their homes.

5. The Liturgical Movement

Just as Weiser was responding to a moment in American history, so too was he capitalizing on and contributing to a moment in Church history. The Liturgical Movement in the United States was enjoying unprecedented popularity, with a growing thirst for the kind of information that Weiser was providing. Weiser himself supported this movement, dedicating his Holyday Book to “the Liturgical Movement in the United States.”

But Weiser was also critical of certain strains of the Liturgical Movement of his time. In an article entitled “Some Observations on Recent Literature,” he warmly welcomes the flood of literature that, like his own, attempts to enrich family life with religious customs. But he also points out three areas of concern:

First, he did not approve of trends that blurred the difference between priest and laity, liturgy and domestic custom. Some contemporary authors were advocating that the father merely repeat the words and actions of the priest at home, even to the extent of blessing an object with holy water and calling it a “sacramental.” Weiser advises caution: “It is possible that Rome will approve this new procedure. On the other hand, it might be advisable to make sure of such approval before spreading the custom too far.” Instead Weiser recommends:

Let liturgy, its thought and symbols, inspire your celebrations in the home; but instead of using liturgical texts and symbols in a mere imitation of what the priest does, create new and different forms for these thoughts and symbols in your home. (This is the way most of our beautiful customs developed centuries ago.) Know the liturgy, explain it to your children, make them love it; but don’t “perform” it vicariously in your home.

Second, Weiser was wary of unwarranted innovation,

It would seem to be of special importance that, above all else, we present the true story of these established customs and make them understood again in their original meaning. Since they exist already in millions of families, it should be comparatively easy to get our population (and not only the Catholics) interested in such explanations. Thus the radiant light of liturgical inspiration and religious thought could be rapidly spread everywhere by explaining the “old” customs before we try to introduce “new” ones.

and especially wary of innovation that arose from ignorance or haste:

Many Catholic writers, not familiar with the true history and meaning of our established festive lore, too quickly propose ready-made changes, substitutions and suppressions. The result is a confusing variety of well-meant suggestions, often advanced with more zeal than knowledge or psychological insight.

As mentioned earlier, Weiser was a student at Innsbruck of the famous Jesuit liturgical historian Josef Andreas Jungmann, to whom he dedicated his Handbook of Christian Customs:

This book is dedicated, as a belated but sincere token of gratitude, to my former professor at the University of Innsbruck (Austria), the Rev. Joseph A. Jungmann, S.J. The lasting influence of his personality and example no less than his masterful teaching inspired me, as it did many others of his former students, to attempt a modest contribution to the great task of making the treasures of holy liturgy better known and appreciated. May this handbook not only be useful to anyone seeking information and understanding of our feasts and folklore, but also help toward a joyful and fruitful celebration in our churches, hearts and homes.

His sincere gratitude, however, should not be mistaken for complete agreement. Jungmann was convinced that liturgy had become a “lifeless act” through clericalization and thus he became an advocate for sweeping liturgical reform. Weiser, as far as I can tell, does not recommend a single change to the liturgy. On the contrary, rather than see the liturgy of his day as lifeless, he saw it as radiating life and continuing to inspire personal, domestic, and cultural development around the world. “The celebration of our Christian feasts within the family [can be] warmer, holier, and more truly joyful” not through liturgical innovation but through a recovery of understanding why we do what we do.

Rev. Josef Andres Jungmann, S.J.

Reception

Weiser’s works were generally well received in the 1950s and 1960s. Nash K. Burger wrote in the New York Times:

Since books about Christmas seem as inevitable as Christmas itself, it would be well if they were all as satisfying as Francis X. Weiser’s “The Christmas Book.” Seldom have so many aspects of the origin, observance and meaning of this important Christian holy season been presented in such attractive form.

America Magazine called Handbook “a very palatable and often engrossing introduction to the liturgy”—nay more, it was “an introduction to Christian culture” that is “engagingly written.” Oxford’s Journal of Bible and Religion voiced a similar sentiment about The Holyday Book, describing it as a “a most informative and at the same time delightful book” written in a “friendly, sympathetic style” by an author who “manifests an extraordinary knowledge of languages, folklore, customs, liturgy, and even of cooking recipes” yet who “wears his scholarship gracefully and lightly.”

Responding to these compliments, Weiser revealed the “secret” of his writing as well as his perennial concern for the youth and his own high standards:

Allow me to tell you a secret. I never had the benefit of “studying” English; never had a teacher or any formal instruction in this language. All the English I know, was-to use a popular expression-just “picked up” by reading good English books. (The word “good” refers to both English and books.) That is the reason why I am now so keenly and sadly aware of the incredible harm which the atrocious language and spelling of our comic books must cause to the minds of children. If reading “good English” books gave me my knowledge of the language, what kind of language habits will the comics produce in our children?

According to the Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, Weiser’s biographies of famous Jesuits are brief, accurate, and designed to excite zeal for the missions. They also do a fine job relaying the facts but do not use the critical method of historical scholarship. His liturgical books are “a sketchy but deftly written survey of nativity plays, flowers, symbolic lights and fires, and Christmas foods. Although more comprehensive studies of this fascinating subject have been made by popular writers for a general public, the Christmas Book will find many interested readers among laymen of the Roman Catholic faith.” “Folklorists,” writes one reviewer, “will wish for a more detailed, carefully annotated study. The reference notes serve as a somewhat insufficient guide to the sources used in compiling the data.” “This book [in the genre] of popularization pursues a pastoral goal and includes neither a bibliography nor critical discussion,” writes another.

Aside from his own personal observations or experiences, Weiser depended on the scholarship of others to compile his overview of liturgical customs. One drawback to such a dependence is that one’s “sketches” are only as good as one’s sources; when they err, so do you. In Handbook, for example, Weiser opines that pretzels derive their name from bracellae, a supposed Latin name for “little arms.” The problem is that no such word exists in Latin; it is more probable that pretiola (“little rewards”) is the source of the word “pretzel.”

The Post-Vatican II Era

Weiser’s last monograph on heortology, The Year of the Lord in the Christian Home, appeared in 1964. After that, and aside from some miscellaneous articles on the Church, he returned to German juvenile fiction and biography: between 1966 and 1974, he published seven more books and three biographical entries for New Catholic Encyclopedia. His last book to appear in English was Kateri Tekakwitha in 1971, a translation of his 1970 Das Mädchen der Mohawks, and his last book of all was his 1974 biography of Jesuit priest and explorer Pierre de Smet, In den Bergen von Montana (In the Mountains of Montana).

In 1970 at the age of sixty-nine, Weiser retired from teaching at Boston College and moved to Campion Center in Weston: a Jesuit retirement community, the center is located on the campus of the former Weston College where he had taught twenty years earlier. (Weiser’s retirement may have had something to do with the 1967 Age Discrimination in Retirement Act, which mandated retirement at the age of sixty-five). The year that he retired, “in recognition of his scholarly and literary achievements,” his alma mater the University of Innsbruck awarded him a citation of honor and the Jubilee Medal. Francis X. Weiser, S.J. passed away on October 22, 1986 at the age of eighty-five.

It is not known why such a prolific author stopped writing on the liturgy. There may be several reasons. First, Weiser may have said all that he wanted to say on the subject. The Handbook of Christian Customs is already a thorough compendium of the entire liturgical year, and his subsequent books on periliturgical practices cover all the essentials of domestic devotion.

Second, he may have recognized that the cultural conditions that made his works popular and useful were no longer as strong. The 1950s was a great melting pot moment; the divisive 1960s was not.

But perhaps the greatest reason for Weiser’s abandonment of heortology was the general reform of the Roman Rite that was already taking place in 1964 and that would culminate with the promulgation of a new Missale Romanum in 1969. The new missal included a significantly different calendar that at times makes difficult the implementation of Weiser’s assembled folklore. Gone were the customs surrounding Septuagesima and the customs surrounding saints’ feast days, such as St. Thomas the Apostle, whose feast (once rich in winter customs) was transferred from December 21 to July 3.

That said, Weiser’s work still contains valuable information that is relevant today [even for those observing the Novus Ordo]: almost everything he says about Advent and Christmas, for example, is still applicable, even for his beloved feast of St. Nicholas. Moreover, his work remains a model for us all, whether we are scholars or simply members of the Body of Christ trying to enrich our lives with the Church’s liturgy. As he writes: “When we Catholics write about our own religious feasts and customs, the goal is to present our very best, not only in devotion and inspiration but also in scholarship.”

A version of this article (with full annotation) appeared as “The Domestic Heortologist: An Introduction to Francis X. Weiser, S.J.” in Antiphon: A Journal of Liturgical Renewal 29:2 (2025), pp. 144-171. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.