Against Concelebration: The Remarkable Intervention of Archbishop Paul-Pierre Philippe OP at Vatican II

Bishops Yves Ramousse and Paul Tep Im concelebrate at Kep Benedictine Monastery in the 1970s (source)

Bishop Athanasius Schneider is to be thanked for recovering and publicizing, in his fine book The Catholic Mass: Steps to Restore the Centrality of God in the Liturgy, a particularly well-argued speech against concelebration that was given by Dominican archbishop during the Second Vatican Council’s debate on the liturgy.

Paul-Pierre Philippe was, it should be noted, no minor figure; later he was created a cardinal and made prefect of the Congregation for Oriental Churches.

I agree that the faculty of sacramental concelebration should be extended in the Latin Church to the Chrism Mass, on Thursday of the Lord’s Supper, as well as, for example, to the Mass celebrated by the bishop during the diocesan synod or on the occasion of a pastoral visit or spiritual exercises of diocesan priests, because in this way the union of the priests with the bishop in the one priesthood of Christ is manifested.
       This reason, however, is not valid for extending concelebration to the daily Conventual Mass of religious, which some Fathers have called for. For the union of many concelebrating priests comes about only as a consequence of the union of each priest with Christ the Priest, whose sacred person he represents at Mass. For the priest, as Pope Pius XII says in the encyclical Mediator Dei, “by reason of the sacerdotal consecration which he has received, is made like to the High Priest and possesses the power of performing actions in virtue of Christ’s very person. Wherefore in his priestly activity he in a certain manner ‘lends his tongue and gives his hand’ to Christ” (AAS 1947:518). In fact, the action of Christ who sacrifices and offers himself through the sacramental action is manifested more expressively in the Mass celebrated by one priest than in a concelebrated Mass, and is better perceived both by the celebrant himself and by the faithful who see in this one priest “the image of Christ” the Priest (cf. ST III, Q. 83, art. 1, ad 3).
       Priestly spirituality is principally based on this doctrine and through it the Eucharistic devotion of priests is nourished. Now, however, if many priests habitually concelebrate, it is to be feared that they will gradually feel less like an “alterChristus” and that their Eucharistic piety will diminish. Religious who concelebrate daily may run into this danger in a particular way.
       Certainly, it has been said that the freedom of individual celebration must be safeguarded, but in reality, the insistence of superiors and confreres as well as external difficulties and the force of custom will impede that freedom. Moreover, too frequent or daily concelebration can lead to a certain contempt for the so-called “private” Mass. For every Mass, according to the doctrine of the Council of Trent, is truly public, since it is celebrated by the public minister of the Church for all the faithful belonging to the Body of Christ.
       Finally, the doctrine of Pius XII on the fruits of the Mass must be recalled (cf. AAS 1954:669). In this matter one must consider not only the fruit produced by a devout and fraternal celebration, but first and foremost the nature of the action taking place, that is, the sacramental sacrifice of Christ. Indeed, the objective fruit of the Mass, that is, the fruit of propitiation and impetration for the living and the dead, is the principal fruit. And because this fruit is not the same in a concelebrated Mass and in many Masses celebrated by many priests, if the use of frequent concelebration becomes widespread it is to be feared that right doctrine will be obscured and the faithful will no longer take care that many Masses be celebrated for the living and the dead.
       Therefore, practical convenience is not acceptable as a reason or criterion in favor of extending concelebration, but only the sometimes appropriate manifestation of the unity of the priesthood through concelebration with the bishop or religious superior. [1]

It cannot be said that the good archbishop was in any way mistaken, either in his theological synopsis or in his prognostication of the spiritual and liturgical effects of routine concelebration.

It is appropriate to add to this conciliar speech a more recent (1994) critique of concelebration mounted by Fr. Enrico Zoffoli—also conveniently included in Bishop Schneider’s The Catholic Mass. Schneider rightly praises Zoffoli’s “keen observations on the doctrinal, pastoral, and spiritual disadvantages of this modern celebratory practice”:

Habitual concelebration of the Mass facilitates a shift toward the heretical conception of the Mass as a banquet, and leads to losing sight of the Mass as a sacrifice; thus the altar yields to the table; the single minister who operates in persona Christi is replaced by the many diners; the substantial reality of Christ the Victim is dissolved into consecrated bread that is reduced to a mere symbol of His presence among the guests, and to His spiritual union with all.
       Concelebration fatally leads to a reduction in the number of individual Masses with seriously negative consequences.
       First, the Church is less frequently united with her Head in the “sacrifice of praise, thanksgiving, propitiation, and expiation” that constitutes every Eucharistic celebration, thus failing in the fundamental duty of worship owed to God through Christ; and, consequently, she suffers a halt in her process of development.
       Second, if concelebration reveals the unity of the Catholic priesthood in the many ministers of worship (as in some circumstances is appropriate), nevertheless, the fact of being together and the need for each one to conform to the others in gestures, formulas, tone of voice, etc., over time reduces the intensity of a priest’s personal, unique, and irreplaceable union with God in Christ, to the detriment of his interior life. . . .
       Against this, many justify concelebration by claiming that it does not reduce the number of Masses, which they say would be equal to the number of concelebrating priests. But this is false, (1) first because every Mass consists essentially in the consecration, whose formula is one and indivisible, even if it is recited by many. (2) Second, several instrumental causes cannot multiply the work of the Principal Cause. That is to say, in each Mass Christ sacramentally immolates himself only once. St. Paul’s “quotiescumque” cannot have any other meaning. . . . Third, it is not the number of priests with their personal intentions that essentially conditions the sacrificial rite, but the consecration, which, if it is one, constitutes a Mass. Now, as noted above, the consecration of several concelebrants is one. Therefore, the Mass concelebrated by them is also one. In reality, the Mass, by the very fact that it is concelebrated, can only be (sacramentally) one. If several priests come together to celebrate, it is only because they intend to perform a single liturgical action, otherwise each would celebrate on his own. For this reason, everyone knows that many diners do not multiply a meal, and — again by analogy — many singers make up a single choir, etc.
       On March 7, 1965, with the decree Ecclesiae semper, the Holy See dispelled all doubts, declaring that when a Mass is concelebrated, the many priests, in virtue of the same priesthood and in the person of the High Priest, act at the same time with one will and one voice, and offer a single sacrifice at the same time by a single sacramental act. [2]

Bishop Schneider then comments: “The truth that the Mass is the source of salvation is demonstrated in a more expressive manner by the practice of its frequent celebration,” and quotes Zoffoli again:

It is right to insist on an ever more conscious, well-considered, and intense participation in the Mass. Who could ever doubt it? But this duty — a serious one for priest and faithful — has nothing to do with the infinite objective value of every Mass; which, being celebrated by Christ, the Priest who offers, is in itself the supreme act of worship of the Mystical Body and an inexhaustible source of grace for all, even when the minister is unworthy, and when the faithful are ignorant, distracted, or completely absent. [3]

Journet asserts: “If Christ in each Mass accomplishes the work of redemption, it is easy to see the need to multiply Masses.” [4]

As an aside, it seems to me that the doctrine of the infinite value of Christ’s sacrifice as present in the Mass can lead logically in only two directions: either you need to say that there is no need to repeat Mass at all, since even one celebration of it would be of infinite value—indeed, the Protestant will go further and say that no Mass is necessary because of the one supreme sacrifice of Calvary itself, all-sufficient and “once for all” (as Catholics, we understand the flaw in that view, which does not see how the Mass is a re-presentation, a making-present-anew, of the one selfsame sacrifice of the Cross)—or you need to say that Mass should be repeated as many times as it is fitting to do so, which the Church has deemed to be once a day for each priest, apart from well-defined pastoral exceptions. To do less than this is precisely not to acknowledge the intrinsic value of the Mass as a sacrificial offering.

Thus, Bishop Schneider continues with a quotation from Fr. Zoffoli that develops this line of reasoning:

The numerical reduction of Masses (one would like to arrive at a single Sunday Mass) has its understandable justification only in the context of the Protestant liturgy; which, having denied the sacrifice, transubstantiation and the real presence, only knows a “banquet,” which is obviously celebrated by several diners independently of the exercise of a “ministerial priesthood”; hence it is taught — even in some Catholic circles — that the true “celebrant” is not the “priest,” but the “community of the faithful” and indeed each believer.

While the error he mentions is not as frequently met with today as it used to be in the ferment of the immediate post-council period, nevertheless one may truly say that the appreciation of the priest’s offering of the Mass as such, independently of the presence of a community or of communicants, is something that is found only in the ambit of traditional liturgy—in which I include younger clergy shaped by the theology of Joseph Ratzinger (inter alia) and the presence of the old rite in lands graced by Summorum Pontificum.

NOTES

[1] Source: Concilii Vaticani II Synopsis, 1053, in Schneider, The Catholic Mass, 224–26.

[2] Questa è la Messa. Non altro!, Udine: Segno, 1994, 90–92, cited in Schneider, The Catholic Mass, 229–30. Zoffoli cites the text of the decree: “In hac ratione Missam celebrandi plures sacerdotes, in virtute eiusdem sacerdotii et in persona Summi Sacerdotis, simul una voluntate et una voce agunt, atque unicum sacrificium unico actu sacramentali simul conficiunt, idemque simul participant” (AAS 57 [1965]: 411).

[3] Zoffoli, Questa è la Messa, 93, in Schneider, The Catholic Mass, 231.

[4] Charles Journet, Oeuvres complètes XIV (1955–1957), Annexe I, sec. III, in Schneider, The Catholic Mass, 231.

Art, Beauty, Creativity and Inspiration #4: What Use is Beauty?...Beauty and Utility

Is Beauty an Extravagance When There is Still Poverty In the World?

This is the fourth and final post in a series exploring a Christian philosophy of art and beauty. In the first post, I examined what art is and what makes it good and Christian. In the second, I looked at how art is made and what beauty does to the human soul. Last week, I asked how we can know what is beautiful, arguing that tradition is our surest collective guide. This week, I turn to two very practical objections that any advocate of beauty must be prepared to answer. The first is the claim that beauty and utility are in tension — that a truly functional building or object has no room for aesthetic considerations. I will argue, on the contrary, that beauty and utility are not rivals but are in fact inseparable: that when something is made well for a genuinely good purpose, beauty follows necessarily. The second objection is the most pointed of all: in a world of poverty and need, can we justify spending money on beautiful churches, art, and sacred objects? I will argue, drawing on the example of the Franciscans and the economic thinking of Benedict XVI, that this is not only justified but is, rightly understood, one of the most effective things we can do for the poor.

20th century utilitarian architecture: The convent of Sainte Marie de La Tourette, France, designed by Le Corbusier, completed in 1960. I’ve seen more pleasing prisons!

Above is a convent that looks like a prison, and here is a Victorian prison, Lincoln Castle Prison, now a listed building, which looks like a palace. The nuns’ cells seem less appealing than those of the prisoners!

Beauty and Utility

It is common for people with traditional tastes to criticize modern architecture as ugly. Its ugliness arises, they say very often, because it is designed on utilitarian principles in accord with the common slogan, ‘form follows function’. The architectural style that developed from this idea in the 20th century is known as functionalism, and it is the movement from which modern architecture emerged. Its most famous proponent was the Franco-Swiss architect Le Corbusier.

The problem with this approach, so the common criticism goes, is that the architect has not considered how to make his design beautiful, as he is only interested in creating a building that serves its function.

For example, imagine a newly built library in a contemporary utilitarian style. Many people with more traditional tastes will likely think it is ugly. The reason for that ugliness, they would say, is that the architect considered only how it could house and provide people with access to books - its ‘utility’ - and made no effort to incorporate a beautiful design. Such critics typically argue that the architect ought to have made it both beautiful and useful.

Vybord Library, Russian, 1927, an example of functionalism

I would very likely dislike the appearance of such a building too, but would argue the case slightly differently. I would say that when any human artefact with a good purpose is made well, it is necessarily beautiful. Beauty is not an add-on to usefulness. Rather, when the library is designed for optimal utility, it is inevitable that it will be beautiful. Beauty, as I see it, is intimately bound up with utility (properly understood), because when it has integrity, everything about it is in conformity to its purpose.

The problem with our imagined ugly library is not that the architect was a strict utilitarian who considered only how the building would be used. Rather, the problem is that he had a diminished understanding of the true utility of a library. Because he only considered the narrow material needs of those who might read its books, he did not understand the full purpose of a library. If people are to be at ease and able to read in peace and tranquility, the building must be a beautiful environment for reading.

These additional functions of a beautiful library relate to our spiritual needs, which, for the Christian, unlike our hypothetical atheist, materialist architect, are even more important than our material needs. Any information that we read and which is grasped by the intellect will impact our spiritual lives, too. It is important that the environment predisposes us to be open to both spiritual and intellectual formation through what we read.

The Radcliffe Camera library in Oxford, designed by James Gibbs in the Baroque style, and completed in 1739.

We can look to church architecture for inspiration here. Traditional church architecture fosters contemplation of God. The main focus of the design of churches is as a place of worship, and the activity of worship properly includes the engagement of the intellect through the reception of information that is imparted to us via both the written and spoken word. It is appropriate, therefore, that the design of a library should draw on that of a church so that we learn what we read in such a way that it raises our hearts to God even in the library, just as it does in the church. Traditionally, this is precisely what we observe. It is no accident that the libraries of the Oxford and Cambridge colleges are adaptations of church architecture, built, for example, in the Gothic style, which originated as a style for churches. The design of a college library is not identical to that of the college chapel, as it is appropriate to the function of a library, but it is closely related to it.

This does not suggest that every human activity has a spiritual component. Rather, it is saying that, since the human person is a unity of body and soul, even activities directed primarily towards the good of the body must also affect the soul.

Take, for example, the most mundane activities, say, cleaning our teeth. I brush my teeth daily because I want to be healthy, and I don’t want my breath to smell bad. I cannot, for the life of me, see how I can brush my teeth spiritually. I doubt that a Christian mystic and an atheist materialist Communist will brush their teeth any differently. However, physical health contributes to my well-being and, in an indirect way, to my spiritual health, thereby enhancing my capacity to undertake the work of the Lord. While it is possible to overcome ill health and remain of sound mind and spirit through grace, it is nevertheless an aid to my spiritual health to be physically sound as well. As something that is God-given, I should do all that I can to maintain bodily health. So even something as mundane as a toothbrush suited to its purpose will, therefore, have a beauty that speaks of this greater picture of the benefits of cleaning our teeth. Its beauty will work in harmony with its primary purpose and will incline us to use it for the good of our health. This is the utility of beauty in a toothbrush! Therefore, it would be reasonable to incorporate traditional proportions, rooted in the beauty of the cosmos, into toothbrush design.

When, unlike a toothbrush, the object we are considering does have a direct impact on the spiritual life, such as on how we pray, as is the case with a church building, then it is all the more obvious that its beauty, which directs us to God, has a direct impact on our ability to carry out that activity well. The beauty of sacred art that hangs inside the church also plays a direct role in raising our hearts to heaven. This means that while ugly toothbrushes are unlikely to lead us to hell, the environment’s impact on worshippers’ souls should be considered of paramount importance. Therefore, everything associated with the liturgy, for example, the art, music, architecture, and vestments, must be appropriately beautiful to serve its purpose well.

A toothbrush made in 1872!

Is Beauty Worth It? Doesn’t It Cost Too Much to Make Beautiful Objects?

First, as a general principle, it is not a given that it is more expensive to make something beautiful than it is to make something ugly. Overall, the beauty of artefacts is a function of design. Mass production and industrialization, which lead to lower production costs, are not, contrary to what is commonly asserted, necessarily processes that automatically produce aesthetically undesirable products. It is as easy to mass-produce something beautiful as it is something ugly. The ugliness of today’s culture is driven as much by poor design principles as it is by economic considerations.

A large basilica built in modern design is typically even more expensive than one built in, say, a traditional Romanesque design, as evidenced by the recent building of the neo-Romanesque church of St Mary in Kansas, which comes in at significantly less cost than the ugly modernist Los Angeles Catholic Cathedral despite being on a similar scale.

The Immaculata Church, St Mary’s Church, Kansas, completed in 2023

While this is not automatically the case, as stated, sometimes creating something beautiful can cost more than its ugly equivalent. Even when the cost is higher, it is an investment that yields economic returns. For example, houses built to traditional proportions typically command higher prices on the open market, which more than offsets any additional construction costs. These buildings cost more, incidentally, not because designing beautifully is intrinsically more costly, but because the current templates of mass production of house parts, for example, window dimensions, do not reflect traditional harmony and proportion. As a result, window frames have to be made individually. If they were mass-produced, the costs of building houses in traditional, harmonious proportions would come down.

I would argue that if we wish to consider the souls of those who use what we create, then we must endeavor to make beautiful objects and do so in a cost-effective manner. An ‘investment’ in the souls of men will pay off.

When faced with the dilemma of whether to spend money on beautiful churches and sacred art, a common objection is that it would be better to give it to the poor. This is an old but false argument (one that goes back to Judas!) that I would counter as follows:

Consider the gospel account of Martha, Mary, and Judas (Luke 10:38-42). Many will be aware of this story of the two women acting as hostesses, in which Mary washed Jesus’s feet with expensive nard while Martha attended to the other guests’ needs and complained to Jesus that she was doing all the work. Judas, the keeper of the apostles’ funds, also complained that the money spent on expensive nard would be better spent on the poor. It is common to interpret this story by focusing on the contrast between Martha and Mary’s attitudes. However, we can also contrast Mary’s attitude with that of Judas. Here is a lesson about the allocation of resources:

Mary made the right choice, we were told, in choosing Christ even before giving to the poor. There is an equivalent choice facing us today whenever we have to decide whether to have beautiful churches and art, intricate vestments, ornate, jewel-studded chalices, and so on. Is it right to direct money to these things when there is poverty? The answer is yes, when these things, through the liturgy, elevate the souls of the faithful to Christ. Directing wealth toward the creation of beautiful churches and church artefacts is a more noble use of resources than giving it directly to the poor, which, in fact, will result in greater benefits for them. Why would we say this?

Interior of St Cyprian’s Church, Clarence Gate, Marylebone, London. Designed by Ninian Compton and completed in 1903. The Anglican Church in England, under the inspiration of ‘slum priest’ Charles Gutch, built its most ornate churches deliberately to serve the poor.

First, all of us, rich or poor, can go to church, and we all need our souls saved. So, in church, the poor benefit spiritually as much as the rich do. Beauty is a common good equally available and equally beneficial to all who encounter it, rich and poor alike.

Second, the poor will benefit materially as well. Faith inspires charity and will directly inspire the rich to give to the poor. Furthermore, it will enable greater wealth creation for the benefit of the poor, thereby elevating their dignity. This is a result of the principle of superabundance at work. Superabundance is the creation of something out of nothing, or of more from less. The Christian life lived according to the principle of love is always fruitful in so many ways—and when it is, God works through us, and it invokes the principle of superabundance.

Benedict XVI addresses the principle of superabundance through charity in the economic sphere in his encyclical Caritas in Veritate (CV). He argues that love may be present even in the ordinary economic transaction. When it is, it not only creates wealth, as all voluntary economic transactions do, but also builds the dignity of all concerned, for even economic transactions suffused with love are raised to a level beyond the material. This interaction contributes to the creation of a community that, through every interaction, including economic ones, builds the dignity of those involved and, in turn, generates greater material wealth by encouraging more economic activity, because a culture of trust and love encourages people to trade with one another.

Benedict explains it as follows:

“Because it is a gift received by everyone, charity in truth is a force that builds community; it brings all people together without imposing barriers or limits. The human community that we build by ourselves can never, purely by its own strength, be a fully fraternal community, nor can it overcome every division and become a truly universal community. The unity of the human race, a fraternal communion transcending every barrier, is called into being by the word of God-who-is-Love. In addressing this key question, we must make it clear, on the one hand, that the logic of gift does not exclude justice, nor does it merely sit alongside it as a second element added from without; on the other hand, economic, social and political development, if it is to be authentically human, needs to make room for the principle of gratuitousness as an expression of fraternity.

“In a climate of mutual trust, the market is the economic institution that permits encounter between persons, inasmuch as they are economic subjects who make use of contracts to regulate their relations as they exchange goods and services of equivalent value between them, in order to satisfy their needs and desires. The market is subject to the principles of so-called commutative justice, which regulates the relations of giving and receiving between parties to a transaction. But the social doctrine of the Church has unceasingly highlighted the importance of distributive justice and social justice for the market economy, not only because it belongs within a broader social and political context, but also because of the wider network of relations within which it operates. In fact, if the market is governed solely by the principle of the equivalence in value of exchanged goods, it cannot produce the social cohesion that it requires in order to function well.” (CV, 34-35)

A Church whose liturgy inspires holiness will foster the atmosphere of mutual trust that Benedict speaks of, thereby generating increasingly productive economic activity.

During his papacy, Pope Francis made headlines with regular calls for charity toward the poor, citing St. Francis of Assisi as a model. To this day, the Franciscan order is characterized by a mission of charity for the poor. But it should not be forgotten that God commissioned St Francis to rebuild Christ’s Church, and the Franciscan order responded by ministering to the poor and by building grand and beautiful churches. Consistent with the principle that Benedict later cites, the Franciscan order did not regard investment in beautiful churches as contrary to its mission to help the poor. They became the great patrons of the art of their age, and many of the great artists from the time of St Francis were third-order Franciscans or were commissioned by Franciscans to work on their churches - Giotto, Cimabue, Simone Martini, Raphael, and Michelangelo. There is no austerity in the Franciscan churches of the past—the Basilica at Assisi is richly decorated from floor to ceiling.

If we are to help the poor in America, we begin, as the Franciscans did in medieval Italy, by striving to transform the Church through beautiful liturgy, art, and architecture. This will, in turn, evangelize the culture and change all men’s hearts, making them more inclined to help the poor in their own community. It will also create a national culture that fosters mutual trust, by which, as a by-product, the economy will grow, so that many will have jobs and greater dignity to support their material needs and aid them in their pursuit of holiness.

The interior of the Basilica of St Francis of Assisi, Umbria, Italy.

St Agnes of Montepulciano

On the Dominican Calendar, today is the feast of St Agnes of Montepulciano, who predates Catherine of Siena among the great Saints of the Order of Preachers, although she was formally canonized very much later, in 1726. Prior to becoming a Dominican, St Agnes, who was born in 1268, was made abbess of a religious community at Procena at the age of only 15, by a special dispensation issued by the Pope. Her native city was so eager to have her back that a convent was founded specifically so that she could be the prioress of it, and affiliated to the then very new Dominican Order; she ruled over the house at Montepulciano until her death in 1317. When St Catherine, who was born 30 years later, came to her shrine to venerate her relics, as she stooped down to kiss St Agnes’ foot, the foot raised itself to meet her lips. Her life was written by Raymond of Capua, St Catherine’s spiritual director, who was himself beatified in 1899.

Our dear Roman pilgrim friend Agnese counts the Roman martyr as her principal patron and name Saint, but is also very devoted to this later Agnes. Our thanks to her for sharing with us these photos of the shrine at Montepulciano, where the Saint’s incorrupt body is preserved, along with a great many other relics.

Note the raised foot!

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Good Shepherd Sunday 2026

Alleluia, I am the Good Shepherd, and I know my sheep, and mine know me, alleluja. (The second Alleluia of Good Shepherd Sunday.)

The Good Shepherd, by Cristóbal García Salmerón (1603-66), originally painted for the church of St Genesius in Arles, France, now in the Prado Museum in Madrid. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Alleluja, Ego sum pastor bonus, et cognosco oves meas, et cognoscunt me meae, alleluia.

In the Ambrosian Rite, the Gospel for today is St John’s account of the Baptism of Christ, chapter 1, 29-34, which the Roman Rite reads on the octave of Epiphany. In the oldest Ambrosian lectionary, the Gospels for the Sundays between Low Sunday and the Ascension continue the instruction of those who were baptized at Easter, and are centered on the figure of Christ. Today John calls him “the Lamb of God”, and on the following Sunday (John 1, 15-28), “the only-begotten Son who is in the bosom of the Father.” On the next two Sundays, Christ speaks of Himself as “the light of the world” (John 8, 12-20) and “the way, the truth and the light (John 14, 1-14).” In the Carolingian era, when the Ambrosian Rite underwent a significant Romanization, the latter three were replaced with the traditional Roman Gospels for these Sundays, but the Gospel of today remained; it is accompanied by the following particularly beautiful preface.

John the Baptist Indicates the Lamb of God to Ss Peter and Andrew; fresco by Domenico Zampieri (1581-1641), generally known as Domenichino, in the ceiling of the apse of the church of Sant’Andrea della Valle in Rome, 1622-28. (Image by AlfvanBeem released to the public domain, from Wikimedia Commons.)

VD... Aeterne Deus: Qui omnia mundi elementa fecisti, et varias disposuisti témporum vices: atque hómini ad tuam imáginem cóndito, universa simul animantia, rerumque mirácula subjecisti. Cui licet orígo terréna sit: tamen, regeneratióne Baptísmatis, caelestis ei vita confertur. Nam devicto mortis auctóre, immortalitátis est gratiam consecútus: et, praevaricatiónis erróre quassáto, viam réperit veritátis. Per Christum.

Truly ... eternal God: Who made all the elements of the world, and arranged the various changes of time, and subjected to man, who was made in Thy image, all living things, and the wonders of creation. And though his origin is of earth, nonetheless, the life of heaven is conferred upon him in the regeneration of baptism. For then the author of death was conquered, he obtained the grace of immortality, and when the error of his transgression was broken, he found the way of truth. Through Christ...

In the Byzantine Rite, today is called the Sunday of the Myrrh-bearing Women from its Gospel, Mark 15, 43 – 16, 8. In the first part of this reading, Joseph of Arimathea requests from Pilate and receives the body of the Lord for burial, wraps Him in the shroud, and lays Him in the tomb; in the second (which the Roman Rite reads on Easter itself, minus the last verse), the women come to the tomb to anoint the body, and meet the angel who tells them that He has risen, and bids them go tell the disciples.

A fresco of the Myrrh-Bearing Women in the Dionysiou Monastery on Mt Athos.

At Matins of Holy Saturday, which is usually sung on the evening of Good Friday, the first set of proper chants at the beginning of the service is based on this Gospel. (The traditional setting in Church Slavonic is one of the best loved and most moving pieces of music among the Slavs.)

The noble Joseph took down from the Cross Thy spotless Body, and when he had wrapped It in a clean shroud with spices, he laid It for burial in a new sepulchre. – Glory be.

When Thou went down to death, o immortal Life, then didst Thou slay Hades by the brightness of the Godhead; and when Thou raised up the dead from the netherworld, all the powers of heaven cried out, ‘Christ our God, Giver of life, glory to Thee.’ – Now and ever.

The angel stood by the tomb and cried to the myrrh-bearing women, ‘Myrrh is fitting for the dead, but Christ has been shown free from corruption.’

At Vespers of the Sunday of the Myrrh-bearing Women, these same chants are sung at the end, but the first two change places, and the second and third have additions (marked here with *) which make them more appropriate for the Easter season.

When Thou went down to death, o immortal Life, then didst Thou slay Hades by the brightness of the Godhead; and when Thou raised up the dead from the netherworld, all the powers of heaven cried out, ‘Christ our God, Giver of life, glory to Thee.’ – Glory be.
The noble Joseph took down from the Cross Thy spotless Body, and when he had wrapped It in a clean shroud with spices, he laid It for burial in a new sepulchre; * but Thou didst rise on the third day, o Lord, granting great mercy to the world. – Now and ever.
The angel stood by the tomb and cried to the myrrh-bearing women, “Myrrh is fitting for the dead, but Christ has been shown free from corruption. * But cry out, ‘The Lord is risen, granting great mercy to the world!’ ”

This video includes only the first one, which has a rather more cheerful melody in its Paschal version.

The Hours of Boussu (Part 2)

This is the second set of images from the Hours of Boussu, an extraordinarily rich illustrated book of Hours, also called the Hours of Isabelle de Lalaing, after its original owner, made sometime after 1490 by an anonymous artist known as the Master of Antoine Rolin. The first part was published on Thursday; this second part contains the images which accompany the Office of the Holy Cross (or ‘of the Passion’), the Penitential Psalms, the Athanasian Creed, the Suffrages, and the Office of the Dead.  

The Office of the Holy Cross is a Little Office similar in conception to that of the Virgin Mary, but much shorter. Each Hour consists of a brief hymn (two or three stanzas), an antiphon, but no psalmody, a versicle, and a prayer. (There does exist a longer version which includes psalms, readings at Matins, etc., but it never caught on.) In this particular version, there is no antiphon, but there are two prayers per Hour. Much more notable is the highly elaborate and detailed repertoire of pictures that come with it. At Matins, we have the prayer in the garden, with the sleeping apostles in the foreground, and in the background, the soldiers coming from Jerusalem to arrest the Lord.

The beginning text block of each Hour includes not just a further image of the Passion, but also the instruments or symbols thereof in the decorative border. Here we see Christ standing before Pilate in the large letter D; in the border, the drops of blood which He shed while praying in the garden (Luke 22, 44), and the Eucharistic symbol of the pelican, feeding its children (as medievals believed) with blood from its own breast.

The Office of the Cross does not have Lauds as a distinct Hour from Matins. Before Prime, the scourging at the column.

In the large letter, Christ blindfolded and buffeted by the soldiers; in the border, the scourges and whips.

Before Terce, the crowning with thorns.

In the large letter, the Ecce homo episode (John 19, 5); in the border, the crown of thorns, and many detached individual thorns. The branches among them seem to be palms, and perhaps this is a reminder of the fact that many of the people who acclaimed Our Lord as the Son of David on Palm Sunday with cries of “Hosanna!” were the same ones crying out “Crucify him!” on Good Friday.

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The Rite of Blessing of the Agnus Deis (Part 2)

Following up on our post on Monday about the blessing of the Agnus Deis, on Wednesday we published the text of the blessing promulgated by Pope Benedict XIV, and today we give a previous version from the late 15th century. This post is reproduced with some modifications from the website of the Cappella Gregoriana Sanctae Caecilia (St Cecilia Gregorian Choir), based in Manilla in the Philippine Islands, with their kind permission, and our thanks.

Dom Prosper Guéranger, in volume 7 of his L’Année liturgique, quotes an even older source for the prayers of the blessing of the Agnus Dei, and that is the Cæremoniale Romanum (Latin text in pdf here), published in 1488 by two-time papal master of ceremonies, Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini, bishop of Pienza and Montalcino, erected from the diocese of Arezzo on 13 August 1462, later split in 1582 into the independent sees of Pienza and Montalcino. Here is an English translation of the prayers based on Dom Guéranger’s French rendition, and below is our translation based on the original Latin.

The prayers in the older version are much, much longer, and the immediate ancestors of the prayers in the text published in 1752. The older version confirms that the water consecrated at the start of the ceremony is already blessed, carried out beforehand as usual either by the Pope himself or by any of his domestic prelates. Other ceremonials call the consecrated water the water of the New Lamb, by reason of the sole and eminent purpose it is reserved. Because the collects are untrimmed, we can clearly discover the Scriptural foundations of this special blessing reserved alone to the Pope. Unlike the 1752 rite, which arranges the constitutive prayers addressed to God from Father to Son to Holy Spirit, the 1488 rite addresses God first the Father, then the Holy Spirit, and finally the Son.

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)

Blessing of waxen Agnus Dei

according to the 1488 Cæremoniale Romanum

On any day after Easter, before Low Saturday, having said or heard Mass in his private Chapel, the Supreme Pontiff, vested in amice, alb, cincture, and simple mitre, blesses water with the usual blessing, as is done on Sundays by priests, in a vessel thither prepared, and, if it is more suitable, said water may be blessed beforehand by one of the Pope’s domestic Prelates. Then, the Pontiff approaches the aforesaid vessel, and, the mitre removed, standing, says:

V. Our help is in the Name of the Lord.
R. Who hath made heaven and earth.
V. The Lord be with you.
R. And with thy spirit.

Let us pray. O Lord God, Father almighty, Founder of all the elements and Keeper of mankind, Giver of spiritual grace and Bestower of eternal salvation, Who didst vouchsafe the waters flowing from the spring of Paradise to irrigate all the earth, upon which Thy Only-begotten Son hath walked with dry feet, and hath deigned to be baptised in them, which hath flowed forth with His Blood from His most holy side, and hath commanded His Disciples to baptise all nations in them: benignantly and mercifully attend, and let the grace of Thy blessing come upon us who remember these Thy wonders, that Thou mayest ✠ bless and, having been blest, sancti✠fy the objects, which We cause to be cast and plunged in this vessel of water that was prepared for the glory of Thy Name, that, by the veneration and honour of these same objects, crimes may be washed off us Thy servants, stains of sins may be wiped off us, pardons may be obtained for us, graces may be granted to us, and we may finally merit to attain eternal life together with Thy saints and elect. Through the same Christ our Lord. R. Amen.

The Pontiff then receives the Mitre again, and pours Balsam from its ampoule into the Water, in the form of a cross, saying:

Deign, O Lord, to consecrate and sanctify these waters through this anointing of balsam, and Our blessing. In the name of the ✠ Father, and of the ✠ Son, and of the Holy ✠ Spirit. Amen.

And he signs thrice. Then, from another ampoule, He pours holy Chrism into the same Water, likewise in the form of a cross, saying:

Deign, O Lord, to consecrate and sanctify these waters through this holy anointing of Chrism, and Our blessing. In the name of the ✠ Father, and of the ✠ Son, and of the Holy ✠ Spirit. Amen.

The Supreme Pontiff, with mitre, having received consecrated water with a silver spoon, consecrates another water: then, he turns towards the baskets, where the Agnus Dei are, and, the mitre removed, standing, says upon them:

V. The Lord be with you.
R. And with thy spirit.

Let us pray. O God of all hallowing, Lord and Ruler, Whose unending mercy is felt: Who didst vouchsafe Abraham, the father of our faith, arranging by Thy commandment to immolate Isaac his son as a foreshadowing of our redemption, to accomplish his sacrifice through a ram stuck amongst the brambles; and didst order Moyses, Thy lawgiving servant, that a perpetual holocaust should be offered in lambs without blemish: humbly we beseech Thee that, implored by the duty of our voice, Thou mayest deign to ✠ bless and, through the invocation of Thy Holy Name, sanctify these waxen figures fashioned with the image of the most innocent Lamb, that, at their touch and sight, the faithful may be invited to prayers; the crash of hailstorms, the storm of whirlwinds, the force of tempests, the rage of winds, the troublesome thunders may be subdued; malignant spirits may flee and tremble before the banner of the Holy Cross, which is engraved into them, to which all knee bendeth, and all tongue confesseth, for death being vanquished through the gibbet of the Cross, Jesus Christ reigneth in the glory of God the Father: for He, led as a lamb unto the slaughter, in death offered Thee, Father, the Holy Sacrifice of His Body, that He may guide back the lost sheep that was waylaid by the devil’s deceit, and bring it back carried upon His shoulders unto the fold of the heavenly homeland: He Who liveth and reigneth in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God: through all the ages of the ages. R. Amen.

He says another Collect:

Let us pray. Almighty and eternal God, Who art the Founder of the sacrifices and ceremonies of the Law, and didst establish them to be accomplished for mankind’s atonement, just as Thy creation, which, deceived by the intimation of the devil, incurred Thy indignation in their disdain towards the empire of Thy majesty, and as Thou didst vouchsafe to be pleased in their obedience to these victims and sacrifices, as Thou didst establish in the sacrifice of Abel’s lamb of the firstfruits, and in the oblation of Melchisedech Thy Priest, and in the immolation of Abraham’s, Moyses’, and Aaron’s victims, lambs, rams, and fattened bulls, with Thy servants humbly offering as a foreshadowing everything that came in contact with them, because with Thy holy blessing, they became holy and salvific: and like the lamb, from whose blood the side posts and upper posts of the house were anointed, being immolated, delivered Thy people at midnight from the striking of the Egyptians; and in the same manner that the innocent Lamb, by Thy will immolated on the altar of the Cross, Jesus Christ, Thy Son, did deliver our forefathers from the power of the devil: so may these Lambs without blemish, which we offer to be consecrated before Thy divine majesty, receive that power: mayest Thou deign to ✠ bless, sancti✠fy, and con✠secrate them, that, sanctified by Thy generous blessing, they may receive the same power against all cunning of the devil, and deceits of malignant spirits, that may no tempest prevail against those devoutly bearing these Lambs upon themselves, may no adversity rule over them, may no pestilential breeze or corruption of air, and no mortal disease, no storm and tempest of the sea, no conflagration, nor any wickedness rule over them, nor may man prevail against them: may a safe delivery with the mother be kept through the intercession of Thy Only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, Who with Thee liveth and reigneth in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God: through all the ages of the ages. R. Amen.

We pray Thy mercy, O almighty God, Who didst create everything out of nothing, and, after Adam’s fall, didst bless Noe and his sons, who lived justly before Thy majesty, and were saved by Thy mercy from the waters of the deluge: mayest Thou thus deign to ✠ bless, sancti✠fy, and con✠secrate these Lambs, so that those bearing them, out of reverence and honour to Thy Name, may be delivered from all inundation of waters, and from all vicissitudes of the devil’s tempest, and from sudden death, through the power of the Passion of Jesus Christ, Thy blessed Son: Who with Thee liveth and reigneth in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God: through all the ages of the ages. R. Amen.

These done, the Supreme Pontiff is girded with a linen apron, and, having received the mitre, sits by the vessel of water, and the servers bring to him the Agnus Dei in silver platters, which the Pontiff plunges into the water, and the attending prelates take them out, and bring them in platters upon tables prepared with clean cloths, that they may be dried; and all having been baptised by the Pontiff, or by his prelates, the Supreme Pontiff, rising, and standing without mitre, says these Collects upon them:

Let us pray. O nourishing Spirit, Who makest the waters fruitful, and givest life to all, and didst establish every great sacrament in the substance of the waters, which, having relinquished bitterness, were transformed unto sweetness, and, sanctified by Thy breath, by impulse of the reception of the laver (of Baptism), at the invocation of the Name of the Holy Trinity, wash away sins: we beseech Thee, O Lord, that Thou mayest deign to ✠ bless, sancti✠fy, and con✠secrate these Lambs, poured forth with the sacred and everlasting water and with the balsam of holy Chrism, so that, being blessed by Thee, they may receive power against all the devil’s temptations, and all who bear them may be protected amidst adversity and prosperity, that, having received Thy consolation, they may fear no peril, and dread no shadow, and no devil’s savagery or man’s cunning may inflict harm upon them, but, strengthened in the fortitude of Thy power, they may glorify in Thy consolation, Thou Who truly art called the Paraclete, and livest and reignest in perfect Trinity: through all the ages of the ages. R. Amen.

O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, Who truly art the innocent Lamb, the Priest and the Victim, Who art foretold by the voice of the prophets as the vine and the cornerstone, Who didst wash away the sins of the world, Who, being slaughtered, didst redeem us, O Lord God, in Thy Blood, and didst anoint with Thy Blood the posts of our breast and brow, lest the devil’s nighttime cunning, and noontime onslaught, and the people thrashing and passing over our houses, display their violence before us: Thou truly art the Lamb without blemish for our atonement, and didst vouchsafe to be perpetually immolated by Thy faithful in Thy memory, and to be eaten as the paschal Lamb under the species of bread and wine in the Sacrament unto the salvation and the remedy of our souls, that, having sojourned across the sea and the present age, we may come to the glory of the resurrection and eternity: we beseech therefore Thy mercy, and mayest Thou deign to ✠ bless, sancti✠fy, and con✠secrate these Lambs without blemish, which we have formed in Thy honour from virgin wax through the merits of the Cross, and, confected with holy water, and balsam, and the liquor of holy Chrism as a hallowing of Thy Conception, which Thou didst receive by divine power alone, without human contact and posterity, mayest Thou thus uphold, protect, and defend those who bear these Lambs from all danger of conflagration, lightning, storm, and tempest, and guard them from all adversity through the mystery of Thy Passion, and mayest Thou thus deign to deliver them and those labouring in childbirth from all perils, as Thou didst deliver Thy Mother from all peril, and Susanna from false accusation, and blessed Thecla Thy Virgin and Martyr from conflagrations; and just as Thou didst cause Peter, freed from fetters, to escape unscathed, mayest Thou cause us to depart unharmed from this age, that we may prevail to live with Thee without end: Who livest and reignest in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God: through all the ages of the ages. R. Amen.

These done, the Agnus Dei are placed back in their baskets, and then, on Low Saturday, after the Agnus Dei at Mass, they are given, as is more fully described in the ceremony of the mentioned day.

Review of Monastery and High Cross: The Forgotten Eastern Roots of Irish Christianity

The Faddan More Psalter

If you want to read a book full of historical and liturgical surprises, pick up a copy of Connie Marshner’s 2024 Monastery and High Cross: The Forgotten Eastern Roots of Irish Christianity (Sopia Institute Press).

We have always known that St. Patrick was sent to Ireland by the Pope, not to bring the Gospel to the Emerald Isle for the first time but to tend a Christian flock already there (of course, he also did a great deal of evangelizing once he arrived). But the question still remains: who were these pre-Patrick Christians?

Marshner’s book, which is an expansion of her Masters thesis in Gaelic literature, provides an answer. The volume opens with the tale of an astonishing discovery. In 2006, an Irishman was digging up peat when he came upon a leather-covered book. The Faddan More Psalter, as it is now known, was written about AD 800. The content (the Psalms) are in Latin text of the Vulgate, the script is Gaelic, but the cover is distinctively Egyptian in style—and, inside the cover were fragments of papyrus!

If the thesis of Monastery and High Cross is correct, then we can consider the Faddan More Psalter a metaphor for early Irish Christianity as a whole: a mixture of Continental, local, and—most surprisingly, Middle Eastern elements. That mixture, incidentally, remained in Ireland until the Anglo-Norman invasion in the twelfth century, which was begun partially on the pretext of bringing the Irish Church more into line with the practices of Rome.

To understand the forgotten Eastern roots of Irish Christianity, let us begin by outlining some of the differences between the Faith in Ireland and on the Continent. The early Irish Church celebrated Easter on a different date; it did not have daily private Mass; it practiced antiphonal singing long before the rest of the West adopted the practice; it was more monastic than diocesan (in part because diocesan headquarters are typically in cities and Ireland had none until the Vikings forced their way in); Irish churches, some of which had an iconostasis (!), were so small that only the priest and his ministers were inside for the Mass while the deacon and congregation were outside; Irish monasteries were more eremitical (hermit-like) than cenobitic (communal); Irish art was unlike any other in Europe; and scholarship, knowledge of the Greek language, and Marian devotion were more advanced in Ireland than anywhere else in the West.

Not your typical Western monastic dwelling: the beehive cells of Skellig Michael, Ireland

Adding to this picture are puzzling artifacts. Besides the Faddan More Psalter, Irish archeologists have discovered objects from Egypt, North Africa, and the Byzantine Empire, including the skull of a Barbary ape. It is also curious that Celtic Crosses frequently depict St. Antony and St. Paul the Hermit, the founders of the Desert Fathers in Egypt, and that there is a fourth-century inscription in County Cork that reads “Pray for Olan the Egyptian”—recall that St. Patrick did not arrive in Ireland as a missionary until 432. We also have Irish manuscripts that contain texts found nowhere else except parts of the Middle East. And there is a Chi Rho monogram carved into a stone in northeast Ireland that is of the same design as that found in second-century Coptic and Armenian sources.

The stone on which is inscribed in Ogham (the earliest form of Irish writing), “Pray for Olan the Egyptian”

All this evidence points to an Eastern influence in general and a Coptic influence in particular, so much so that one of Marshner’s chapter sections is entitled, “The Nile Flows into the Shannon.” Celtic art, like we see in the seventh-century Book of Kells, has elements in common with fifth and sixth-century Coptic manuscripts, including curvilinear interlacing around letters, red dots, and fish or dolphins bearing a cross. The Book was also illuminated with color dyes from around the world, including lapis lazuli from Afghanistan.

From the Book of Kells

Ireland’s famous High Crosses are a particularly interesting example of Eastern influence. The pre-Christian Irish did not cut stone or carve stone, let alone use stone for monumental statuary. But from the seventh to the twelfth century, Celtic Crosses became common in Ireland, western Scotland, and even parts of France, where Irish missionaries were active.

The Celtic Cross of Monsterboice

The crosses are an amalgamation of different Eastern practices. The very idea of having a stone sculpture came from Armenia: the Byzantine Empire did not have a tradition of sculpture, and in the West the practice died out with the fall of the Roman Empire in AD 476. The only Christian nation that had stone sculptures was Armenia, and apparently this easternmost fringe of the former empire shared its tastes with the westernmost fringe.

Chrismal with stauroteca

Celtic Crosses are distinctive because of the circle that surrounds the intersection of the arms. The pattern is most likely from Jerusalem. Pilgrims took home with them chrismals from the Holy City, small vessels that could contain chrism oil or even the Precious Blood. Some of these were in the shape of a cross with a stauroteca, a star-studded shield in the middle containing a portrait of Christ. A fifth or sixth-century Egyptian textile depicts this shield significantly enlarged—in other words, a Celtic cross (see below).

As for the carved markings, what is on the cross is significant as well as what is not on it. What is on it, as previously mentioned, are Desert Father Saints such as Antony and Paul the Hermit. Also included are typically Eastern choices, such as the Alpha and Omega and biblical scenes prefiguring the Crucifixion: Daniel in the lion’s den and the three youths placed in the fiery furnace. And what is not on these crosses is the Lamb of God, for the Byzantine Empire had outlawed depictions of Christ as a lamb.

Escape from persecution was probably the main motive for this Hiberno-Coptic connection. We know that orthodox priests and monks fled Egypt during the reign of Arian Emperors and later during the reign of Julian the Apostate (361-363), who denounced ascetics. They also fled en masse after the Islamic Arab conquest of Egypt in 642. It is quite possible that Ireland was one of several destinations for these periodic waves of refugees. We also know that Armenian clerics dwelt in Ireland for a while in the 600s and that the ninth-century Litany of Pilgrim Saints speaks of “seven monks of Egypt in the desert of Ulster.” Although there is no historical corroboration of this claim, it was enough to inspire the Coptic Orthodox Church to found a Seven Coptic Monks Church in Galway a couple of decades ago.

To compose Monastery and High Cross, Connie Marshner drew from an impressive array of scholarship, but her prose is not exactly that of a typical scholar:

“You might be saying to yourself at this point, ‘Connie, are you crazy? Aren’t we talking about the Dark Ages when nobody went anywhere more than five miles from where they were born? Isn’t it ridiculous to think penniless monks went thousands of miles from home?’ To which I say, ‘Hang on to your hat!’” (46).

The book also has useful call-outs on different topics, but they sometimes contain irrelevant digressions. After describing Andrew Ekonomou’s Byzantine Rome and the Greek Popes, she adds that Ekonomou has a “more varied biography than most academics: a former state prosecutor in Georgia, he is senior counsel at the American Center for Law and Justice” (25). Good for Ekonomou, but how does this contribute to my understanding of Catholic Ireland?

For a book with so many discussions about individual artifacts, I was surprised that it did not contain any illustrations or images. Monastery and the High Cross would have been greatly enriched by photographs, for as they say, each is worth a thousand words. Marshner has subtitled her work the “forgotten Eastern roots of Irish Christianity,” but it would be more accurate to call it “the neglected roots.” As Marshner’s own footnotes attest, scholars have known for at least a century that the East influenced Celtic Christianity. Monastery and High Cross does not so much propose a brand-new thesis as assemble a series of theses and corroborate them with recent findings like that of the Faddan More Psalter.

Nor does the volume present a tidy picture of Eastern influence, either with respect to how it came to be or what was being shared. We do know not always know, for example, whether the path was indirect—from the East, through Mozarabic Spain or Gallican France, to Ireland—or direct. And if it was direct, we do not always know the origin country: Egypt, Syria, Armenia, etc. Monastery and High Cross successfully makes its case that Celtic Christianity has Eastern roots, but it leaves us with more questions than answers. It is Marshner’s hope that her book “may pique the interest of future scholars who will be able to do more justice to the topic” (xiii), and mine too.

This review originally appeared in The Latin Mass magazine 35:1 (Spring 2026), pp. 58-59. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

The Hours of Boussu (Part 1)

Here is yet another magnificent book of Hours from the endless treasure trove that is the Bibliothèque nationale de France, known as the Hours of Isabelle de Lalaing, the noble lady for whom it was made sometime after 1490. It is also called the Hours of Boussu, the town in the county of Hainaut (in modern Belgium) of which her family were the lords; the anonymous artist is known as the master of Antoine Rolin. As with everything on the BnF website, the manuscript can be downloaded as a pdf for free. Here is a selection of images which includes all the large pictures, and some examples of the many different kinds of decoration. This first part goes up to the end of the Little Office of the Virgin, the heart of any books of Hours. A second post will include the other features that come after it, such as the Offices of the Passion and of the Dead.

This book is one of the most richly decorated examples of its genre; literally every page that does not have a sacred picture or more elaborate border has a rectangular section like the ones seen here on the two pages for the calendar in April, filled with birds, sometimes other animals, insects (mostly butterflies), and an extraordinary variety of flowers. A great deal of blank space is left on the pages, which is also a sign of the wealth of the person commissioning the book.

The Virgin Mary kneeling before the Three Persons of the Trinity, with an angel holding a banderole saying, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.”

The Lord’s Prayer

The Stabat Mater, which here, unusally, has a decorative border with angels, rather than an image of the Virgin standing by the Cross.

In addition to the floral and animal motifs in the borders, there are a fair number of pictures related to the prayers at their beginnings, such as this one to the Virgin Mary.

Many books of Hours included a group of four Gospels, one from each of the Evangelists: John 1, 1-14, the Gospel of Christmas day; Luke 1, 26-38, the Annunciation; Matthew 2, 1-12, the Epiphany; and Mark 16, 14-20, the Ascension. Here we see St John on the island of Patmos, where he wrote the Apocalypse...

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An Especially Beautiful Byzantine Chant for Easter

In the Divine Office of the Byzantine Rite, a chant called the Exapostilarion is sung at the hour of Orthros between the section known as the Canon (explained here) and the Laudate Psalms. As in every liturgical tradition, some of the most beautiful texts and musical settings of them are found in Holy Week and Easter; here is an absolutely extraordinary version of the one for Easter, performed in a concert given in Rome in October of 2012 by the National “Dumka” Choir, which is very famous in Ukraine, conducted by Yevgeny Savchuk. This particular chant comes from the tradition of the Monastery of the Holy Dormition in Pochayiv, about 85 miles to the east of Lviv.

To all those who follow the Julian Calendar, and are now in the middle of Bright Week, a most blessed and happy Easter - Christ is risen!

Having fallen asleep in the flesh as a mortal man, o King and Lord, Thou didst rise on the third day, raising Adam from corruption, and destroying death: O Pascha of incorruption, the Salvation of the world!

Плотїю oуснув, яко мертвъ, Царю и Господи, тридневенъ воскреслъ еси, Адама воздвигъ ѿ тли, и oупразднивъ смерть: Пасха нетлѣнїѧ, мїра спасенїе.

Σαρκὶ ὑπνώσας ὡς θνητός, ὁ Βασιλεὺς καὶ Κύριος, τριήμερος ἐξανέστης, Ἀδὰμ ἐγείρας ἐκ φθορᾶς, καὶ καταργήσας θάνατον, Πάσχα τῆς ἀφθαρσίας, τοῦ κόσμου σωτήριον.