The Abbey of St Martin in Disentis, Switzerland

Our resident Ambrosian expert Nicola de’ Grandi recently visited the abbey of St Martin in the town of Disentis, which is located in the central Swiss canton of Grisons, about 35 miles to the southeast of Lucerne. In Romansch, a Romance language which is spoken principally in Grisons, the town is called “Mustér”, which is to say, monastery, after this foundation, which began in the late 7th or early 8th century. The monastery is also dedicated to the Virgin Mary, to St Peter, and to its founders, Placidus and Sigbert, but St Martin is the titular of the main church. Like so many ancient monasteries, it has been rebuilt many times; the current church dates to the late 17th and early 18th century.

The main sanctuary and choir.

The nave seen as one looks back from the crossing.

The altar to the left of the main choir is dedicated to St Benedict

On the opposite side, an altar dedicated to a Saint called Placid, not the disciple of St Benedict, but a local landowner who assisted St Sigbert in the foundation of the abbey, and was killed by the regional governor, a man named Victor.

The preaching pulpit

Continue Reading this Article. . .

St. Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Sun: Sister Water

Claude Monet, Water Lilies

Lost in Translation #154

After wishing that Brother Wind and the air praise God, Saint Francis turns to Sister Water:

Laudato si, mi Signore, per sor’Acqua,

la quale è multo utile et humile et pretiosa et casta.

Which I translate as:

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water,

which is very useful and humble and precious and chaste.

Water, it would seem, captures the human imagination like no other earthly element. “Meditation and water are wedded for ever,” writes Herman Melville in Moby Dick. “Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it.” Norman Maclean concludes his beautiful novel A River Runs through It with this observation:

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.

And this magic stuff becomes even more magical, so to speak, when mixed with sanctifying grace. Our Lord knew what He was doing when He made water the matter for the sacrament of our initiation into eternal life. In the Old Testament, water is both life and death: life, for example, for the Hebrews crossing the Red Sea and death for the Egyptians who followed them. Water is also cleansing and healing, as in the case of the Naaman the Aramean who was cured of leprosy after bathing seven times in the River Jordan. The sacrament of baptism combines all these characteristics: being plunged in the waters of baptism brings death to self and life in Christ, and it washes us clean of all sin.

Saint Francis gives three descriptions for water. First, it is “very useful.” Water not only sustains our lives but the lives of every other creature on whom we depend for sustenance, every plant and animal. And there is no beverage we consume that does not contain H2O. Water is also essential to cleanliness and, despite its dangers, it is a lot of fun to boat on or to swim in or simply to gaze upon from the shore.

Second, water is precious. Thanks to our impressive modern water-treatment plants and an amazing network of indoor plumbing, it is easy to forget how difficult it was for many of our ancestors to have a reliable source of potable water, and how difficult it still is in some parts of the developing world. Francis was surely grateful for water. “To him,” writes Msgr. Arthur Tonne, “plain Sister Water tasted better than the richest wine.”

Third, the Saint calls water “chaste.” It is a curious choice. No doubt he is referring to water’s purity, but like English, the Italian language has its own word for purity. Chastity, on the other hand, is a special kind of purity, a purity regarding sexual desire and activity. The image that emerges is of Sister Water as a humble and dear maiden, not unlike the Blessed Virgin Mary. It is a surprising image but fitting, since Francis has personified water by calling it/her his sister.

And perhaps this image of chastity should make us more concerned about polluting or sullying Sister Water. The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is an island of microplastic debris in the Pacific Ocean three times the size of France; and 703,000,000 people today (one in ten) lack access to clean water. Let’s do a better job protecting our sister’s chastity.

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

This article appeared as “Song of Water” in the Messenger of St. Anthony 127:7, international edition (July/August 2025), p. 33. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

The Ancient Character of the Feast of the Circumcision

It is a commonplace of pre-Conciliar liturgical scholarship that the title of today’s feast as that of the Circumcision is a later development in the Roman Rite, imported from the Gallican Rite and elsewhere. The revised Butler’s Lives of the Saints states “On the whole it would seem that outside Rome—in Gaul, Germany, Spain, and even at Milan and in the south of Italy—an effort was made to exalt the mystery of the Circumcision in the hope that it might fill the popular mind and win the revelers from their pagan superstitions. In Rome itself, however, there is no trace of any reference to the Circumcision until a relatively late period.” Similar statements are made in the Catholic Encyclopedia article on the feast, in the Bl. Schuster’s The Sacramentary, in Dom Suitbert Bäumer’s History of the Breviary, and in Mons. Pierre Battifol’s History of the Roman Breviary. [1] This assessment is based on a very superficial reading of the day’s original title and liturgical texts; in reality, the Circumcision was a prominent feature of today’s liturgy from the very beginning.

The title “feast of the Circumcision” is first attested in the 540s, in a non-Roman lectionary known as the Lectionary of Victor of Capua. However, it may well be rather older than that. A council held at Tour in France in 567 refers explicitly to the Circumcision as a feast of long-standing: “our fathers established … that on the Calends (of January) the Mass of the Circumcision should be celebrated.” The words cited above from Butler’s Lives about “win(ning) the revelers from their pagan superstitions” refer to a common feature of the liturgies of January 1st, that they were designed at least in part as an answer to and reproof of riotous pagan celebrations of New Year’s Day; the same canon of the Council of Tours speaks of three day of litanies instituted in this season “to trod down the custom of the pagans.”

In the most ancient Roman liturgical books, however, the title is simply “the octave of the Lord”, as we find for example in the Lectionary of Wurzburg and the Gelasian Sacramentary. Nevertheless, even though the word “circumcision” is not used as the title of the liturgical day, or in the prayers, it is not true that “there is no trace of any reference to the Circumcision” in the early Roman liturgy.

Folios 8v and 9r of the Gellone Sacramentary, a sacramentary of the mixed Gelasian type written in 780-800 AD. The Mass of “the Octave of the Lord” begins towards the bottom of the page on the left. (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des Manuscrits, Latin 12048)

The Breviary and Missal of St Pius V have as the Collect for the day the prayer “Deus, qui salutis aeternae”, which refers principally to the Virgin Mary as the one “through whom we merited to receive the Author of life.” However, this is not the original Collect, which is attested in the Gelasian Sacramentary in the 8th century, and found in many other Uses of the Roman Rite, (Sarum etc.); it is still used by the Premonstratensians, Dominicans and Carmelites to this day. “O God, who grant us to celebrate the eighth day of the Savior’s Birth; strengthen us (or ‘defend us’ – fac nos muniri) by the everlasting divinity of Him, by whose dealing in the flesh we have been restored (or ‘renewed’ – reparati).” [2]

The verb “reparo”, of which “reparati” is the past participle, is used especially in mercantile language to mean “to procure by exchange; to purchase, obtain.” In the context of this prayer, it is deliberately chosen in reference to the words immediately before it, “dealing (commercio) in the flesh.” This language of commerce and purchase reflects the fact that the Circumcision was the very first shedding of Christ’s blood, the price of our redemption, of which St Paul says, “you are bought with a great price. Glorify and bear God in your body” (1 Cor. 6, 20), and St Peter, “you were not redeemed (literally ‘bought back’) with corruptible things as gold or silver, from your vain conversation of the tradition of your fathers, but with the precious blood of Christ …” (1 Pet. 1, 18-19)

The first antiphon of Lauds on the feast of the Circumcision also refers to this “commerce” or “exchange.” “O wondrous exchange (commercium)! The creator of the human race, taking on a living body, hath deigned to be born of a Virgin; and without seed, coming forth as a man, hath bestowed on us His divinity.” [3] Like the Collect cited above, this is one of the many places where the liturgy of the Christmas season reflects upon the fact that in the process begun with His Incarnation and Birth, and completed in His Passion and Resurrection, Christ does not merely rescue Man from sin and death, but bestows upon him glory and immortality, which the Eastern Fathers call the “divinization” of man.

It is not true, as is too often stated by people who have every reason to know better, that the early Church had to persuade people of the divinity of Christ. The idea of a divine being of some sort descending from heaven and doing something beneficial for the human race was very congenial to the Greco-Roman mind. What the Church had to persuade the world of was not the divinity of Christ, but rather the humanity of God: the idea that the being that took so much interest in the welfare of the human race that He joined it is none other and none less than God Himself. The language of “commerce” and “exchange” between “divinity” (specified as “everlasting” against the teaching of Arians that the Son of God had a beginning) and “the flesh” is eminently appropriate to the Circumcision, not only because it was the first shedding of Christ’s blood, but also because the manner of its shedding demonstrates the reality and fullness of His temporal human nature which He unites to His eternal divine nature.

The Circumcision, by Friedrich Herlin, 1466

The Gelasian Sacramentary has a second collect for the feast which reads as follows: “Almighty and everlasting God, who in Thy only-begotten Son made us to be a new creature; preserve the works of Thy mercy, and cleanse us from every stain of oldness: so that by the help of Thy grace, we may be found in the form of Him in whom our substance is with Thee, Our Lord Jesus Christ, etc.” [4] The words “new creature” in the context of the feast of the Circumcision refer to one of the two places where St Paul uses the same expression, Galatians 6, 15: “For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision [5], but a new creature.” This explains, then, that the “oldness” of which we are being cleansed is the rites of both Judaism and paganism, looking forward to the washing of sins in baptism, which is commemorated in a few days time on the feast of the Epiphany.

It is well known that the Roman Rite anciently used far more prefaces than we have in the later medieval Missals, and that of the Gelasian Sacramentary for January 1st is particularly elaborate. “Truly is it worthy… through Christ our Lord: and as we celebrate today the octave of His Birth, we venerate Thy wondrous deeds, o Lord. For * She that bore (Him) was both Mother and Virgin; He that was born was both an infant and God. Rightly did the heavens speak, and the Angels give thanks; the shepherds rejoiced, the wise men were changed, kings were troubled, and the little children crowned in their glorious passion. Suckle, o Mother, (Him that is) our food; suckle the bread that cometh from heaven, and was laid in a manger, as if to feed the devout beasts. For there did the ox know his owner, and the ass his master’s crib, namely, the circumcision and the uncircumcision. * Which also our Savior and Lord, being received by Simeon in the temple, deigned entirely to fulfill. And therefore with the Angels etc.” [6]

The section marked between the stars here is taken from a Christmas sermon by St Augustine [7]; the words “the circumcision and the uncircumcision” stand in apposition to “the ox … and the ass.” This refers to an exegetical tradition of the Church Fathers which goes back to Origen [8], that the ox, a clean animal according to the Law of Moses, represents the Jewish people, the people of the circumcision, while the ass, an unclean animal, represents the gentiles, the people of the uncircumcision. The presence of both at the manger indicates the universality of Christ’s mission as the redeemer and savior of all men, Jew and gentile. He submitted to the Old Law, which He Himself had instituted, but also replaced it with a truly universal rite, since circumcision can only be done to men, but baptism can be done to all, as St Paul teaches: “For as many of you as have been baptized in Christ, have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek: there is neither bond nor free: there is neither male nor female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3, 27-28)

The so-called Sarcophagus of Stilicho, in the Basilica of St. Ambrose in Milan. ca. 400 A.D. The Gospel of St Luke does not say which animals were present in the stable, but an ox and an ass are mentioned in Isaiah 1, 3 in connection with a manger. Once this verse was connected with the Gospel passage, the ox and the ass alone became so indicative of the scene that in a small space, Mary, Joseph, the angels, the shepherds, the Magi, the star, and even the stable could all be omitted, as we see here.

In the Missal of St Pius V, the Gospel of the Circumcision is the shortest of the liturgical year, consisting of a single verse, Luke 2, 21. “After eight days were accomplished, that the Child should be circumcised, His name was called Jesus, which was called by the Angel, before He was conceived in the womb.” Anciently, however, a much longer Gospel was read, and it was because of this that the day was called “the octave of the Lord”, rather than “the feast of the Circumcision.”

In the two oldest lectionaries of the Roman Rite, the Gospel is Luke 2, 21-32, recounting both the Circumcision and the Presentation of Christ in the temple (up to the Nunc dimittis), of which we now celebrate the latter on Candlemas. This explains the reference to the Presentation in the Gelasian preface given above. In the oldest lectionary of the Ambrosian Rite, the same Gospel was read up to verse 40, including also the words of Simeon to the Virgin Mary, and Luke’s account of the prophetess Anna. Although the Ambrosian Office for January 1st makes many explicit references to pagan celebrations of New Year’s Day, as does the first Scriptural reading of the Mass, the original Preface is wholly concerned with the Circumcision and the Presentation. [9] The ancient Gallican and Mozarabic liturgies also read this longer version, and the very lengthy preface of the latter speaks of both the Circumcision and the Presentation.

There is good reason to believe that this conjunction of the Circumcision and Presentation of Christ in a single feast is extremely ancient. St Jerome translated a homily of Origen on Luke 2, 21-23, which appears as the Gospel for January 1 in the Gallican Missal of Bobbio. [10] In his commentary on the Gospel of St Luke, which is collected in part from notes on sermons preached in the churches of Milan ca. 389-90, St Ambrose interrupts his thoughts about the Circumcision to say, “ ‘To present him to the Lord.’ (Luke 2, 22) I would explain what it means for Him to be presented to the Lord in Jerusalem, had I not explained it earlier in my comments on Isaiah.” [11] This indicates that both episodes were read at the same time. In a Christmas sermon different from the one cited above, St Augustine concludes his explanation of Christ’s circumcision by saying “I ask you, dearest brothers, what greatness did the elderly Simeon see in the little one? What he saw was what the Mother carried; what he understood was the ruler of the world.” [12]

The celebration of the Circumcision and the Presentation together would explain why the liturgical title of January 1st was not originally “the feast of the Circumcision”, nor “the octave of the Nativitity”, but rather “the octave of the Lord”, which is to say, a feast that celebrated all the later events of the Lord’s infancy after His Birth. It remains therefore only to note that all Western traditions agree in highlighting the Circumcision by beginning the day’s Gospel at verse 21, without repeating any of the verses from the Nativity itself.

My heartfelt thanks to Nicola de’ Grandi for helping me with the research on this article.

NOTES

[1] Schuster vol. 1, p. 395: “(The Octave of Our Lord) ... was the original designation of today’s synaxis until, though the influence of the Gallican liturgies, was added to it that of the Circumcision.” Bäumer, vol. 1, p. 270: “En Gaule également, il y eut des additions; on ajouta les fêtes de la Circumcisio Domini (au lieu de l’Octava Domini des livres romains).” Batiffol, p. 251, footnote: “This title is, in fact, the ancient Roman one, while the custom of keeping the festival of Our Lord’s circumcision is of pre-Carolingian Gallican origin.”

[2] Deus, qui nobis nati Salvatóris diem celebráre concédis octávum: fac nos, quaesumus, ejus perpétua divinitáte muníri, cujus sumus carnáli commercio reparáti.

[3] O admirábile commercium! Creátor géneris humáni, animátum corpus sumens, de Vírgine nasci dignátus est; et procédens homo sine sémine, largítus est nobis suam Deitátem.

[4] Omnípotens sempiterne Deus, qui in Unigénito tuo novam creatúram nos tibi esse fecisti; custódi ópera misericordiae tuae, et ab ómnibus nos máculis vetustátis emunda: ut per auxilium gratiae tuae, in illíus inveniámur forma, in quo tecum est nostra substantia, Jesu Christi, Dómini nostri.

[5] The term “uncircumcision” is used by the Douay-Rheims and King James Bibles as a slightly more delicate term for “foreskin.”

[6] VD. Per Christum, Dóminum nostrum. Cujus hodie octávas nati celebrantes, tua, Dómine, mirabilia venerámur; quia quae péperit et mater et virgo est; qui natus est, et infans et deus est. Mérito caeli locúti sunt, Angeli gratuláti, pastóres laetáti, Magi mutáti, reges turbáti, párvuli gloriósa passióne coronáti. Lacta, Mater, cibum nostrum; lacta panem de caelo venientem, et in praesépi pósitum velut piórum cibaria jumentórum. Illic enim agnóvit bos possessórem suum, et ásinus praesépe Dómini sui, circumcisio scílicet et praeputium. * Quod etiam Salvátor et Dóminus noster a Simeóne susceptus in templo pleníssime dignátus est adimplére. Et ídeo.

[7] Sermon 369. Its authenticity as a genuine work of St Augustine was long considered doubtful, and it is listed as such in the Patrologia Latina, but seems to have been vindicated by more recent scholarship.

[8] Homily 13 on the Gospel of Luke.

[9] This Gospel was later shortened to match the older Roman Gospel, and again in 1594, when it was shortened to the single verse of the Missal of St Pius V, and the section of the preface related to the Presentation excised.

[10] PL 26, 246C-251C

[11] Book 2 on chapter 2 of St Luke, read in part as the Homily on the Gospel of the Circumcision in the Roman Breviary (PL 15, 1572B)

[12] Sermon 196/A

Veni, Creator Spiritus!

And to invoke His blessings upon the year of grace 2026 that now begins.

Oremus. Deus, qui corda fidelium Sancti Spiritus illustratione docuisti: da nobis in eodem Spiritu recta sapere, et de eius semper consolatione gaudere. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Let us pray. O God, Who hast taught the hearts of the faithful by the light of the Holy Spirit, grant that in the same Spirit, we may be always truly wise, and ever rejoice in His consolation. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Te Deum Laudamus

Let us give thanks to the Lord for all the benefits, mercies and blessings which He has bestowed upon us over the course of the year of grace 2025...

Oremus. Deus, cujus misericordiae non est númerus, et bonitátis infi­nítus est thesaurus: piíssimae Majestáti tuae pro collátis do­nis gratias ágimus, tuam semper clementiam exorantes; ut, qui peténtibus postuláta concédis, eosdem non déserens, ad praemia futúra dispónas. Per Christum, Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Let us pray. O God, of Whose mercies there is no number, and of Whose goodness the treasure is infinite, to Thy most gracious majesty we render thanks for the gifts bestowed upon us, ever imploring Thy clemency, that as Thou dost grant the petitions of them that ask, Thou may never forsake them, and prepare them for the rewards to come. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.

The Third Anniversary of Pope Benedict XVI’s Death

Deus, qui inter summos sacerdótes fámulum tuum Benedictum ineffábili tua dispositióne connumerári voluisti: praesta, quáesumus; ut, qui Unigéniti Filii tui vices in terris gerébat, sanctórum tuórum Pontíficum consortio perpétuo aggregétur. Per eundem Christum, Dóminum nostrum. Amen.

God, Who in Thy ineffable providence, did will that Thy servant Benedict should be numbered among the high priests, grant, we beseech Thee, that he, who on earth held the place of Thine Only-begotten Son, may be joined forevermore to the fellowship of Thy holy pontiffs. Through the same Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

As we pray for the eternal repose of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, who died three years ago today, let us also remember with gratitude the gift of his papacy, his graciousness and good humor, his many wise and well-considered writings, his paternal love especially for priests and religious, but of course above all, his restoration to the Church of the incomparable treasure of the traditional Roman Rite, an act which will continue to bear great spiritual fruit and lead the way for much-needed reform. “What earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too, and it cannot be all of a sudden entirely forbidden or even considered harmful.”

Joseph Ratzinger serving an open-air solemn Mass in the town of Buchfelln in 1947, when he was 20. Tradition will always be for the young!

The Peculiarities of Constantine’s Basilica of St. Peter

We continue Luisella Scrosati’s series on the orientation of Christian worship with her fifth part, “Le singolarità della basilica costantiniana di San Pietro”, originally published in Italian on the website of La Nuova Bussola Quotidiana on November 30, and reproduced here by permission of the editors. (Read Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4)

The rule of praying towards the east, which determined the orientation of churches, had some exceptions. This is neither surprising nor scandalous. It has already been mentioned that the east-west axis was sometimes not feasible, either because the buildings already existed and were converted for religious use, or because new buildings had to take into account the presence of roads and other factors that made traditional orientation impossible.

Karl Otto Nußbaum argued (see Part 4) that Italy, and Rome in particular, had no traces of oriented prayer, at least until the eighth century. On the contrary, Monsignor Stefan Heid has shown that evidence of such exists both archaeologically and literarily.

The churches of Rome deserve special attention, particularly the Constantinian Vatican Basilica. Guillaume Durand (1230-96), bishop of Mende, who lived for many years in Rome in the service of Clement IV and Gregory X, stated in his Rationale Divinorum Officiorum (V, 2, 57) that “although God is everywhere, nevertheless the priest at the altar and in divine offices must pray towards the east, by order (ex institutione) of Pope Vigilius.”

He explained more precisely that in those churches where the entrance was located to the west, and therefore the priest celebrated facing the apse, he had to turn towards the faithful for the liturgical greeting (Dóminus vobiscum); if, on the other hand, the entrance was located to the east, it was not necessary for him to turn towards the faithful, since he already had them in front of him.

The reference to Pope Vigilius indicates that, as early as the sixth century, prayer in Rome was also directed towards the east. The expression ex institutione does not necessarily indicate that he was the first to establish this rule. According to Heid, it is possible that the provision arose from the fact that this rule was not universally followed, not so much because someone celebrated “towards the people,” but rather because some priests celebrated facing the apse, and therefore with their backs to the faithful, even when the entrance was to the east. It is also unclear whether Pope Vigilius’ provision was addressed to the churches of Rome or the churches of Gaul.

It seems clear, however, that Vigilius wanted prayer to be directed towards the east, regardless of where the entrance (and therefore the nave) was located; and it seems rather unlikely that he gave this instruction in opposition to a previous tradition, rather than to restore a practice that was no longer understood and was partly disregarded, in Rome or in Gaul.

In fact, in the wooden door (5th century) of the early Christian basilica of Santa Sabina on the Aventine Hill, we find a panel depicting the Parousia. The woman, placed between Saints Peter and Paul, symbolizes the Church in prayer, recognizable by the position of her hands, awaiting her Lord and facing the sun, the east. This important relief testifies that the orientation of prayer and its meaning were also well established in Rome.

Complicating the understanding of liturgical orientation in the ancient basilicas of Rome is the fact that they contained a singular “pole” of orientation, namely the tombs of the martyrs. Churches had to be built in such a way as to combine the orientation of prayer with the possibility of celebrating super corpora martyrum.

If we consider the basilica of St. Peter in the Vatican from the Constantinian era, we can note some peculiarities. It is well known that the basilica had (and has) its façade facing east; on the western side there was a mosaic apse, with the traditional depiction of the Traditio legis in the center, that is, Christ, between Saints Peter and Paul, offering the scroll of the new law to the former. A few meters from the apse, where the altar is normally located, was the Trophy of Gaius, a small funerary aedicule indicating the location of the tomb of the Apostle Peter, protected by a marble structure with a pergula, almost a sort of early Christian canopy. The structure was about 3 meters wide and high and 1.80 meters deep. The aedicule appeared lower because the new flooring had raised the level by 35 centimeters, thus incorporating part of the Trophy, which now rose just over a meter above the floor.

It is not at all clear where the altar was located, nor whether it was fixed, but it is more than likely that, due to the extreme importance of the presence of Peter’s tomb in the basilica, celebrations were held not towards the east but towards the monument, thus ending up accidentally facing west. To hypothesize a celebration towards the east, in the architectural context of Constantine’s basilica on Vatican Hill, would have meant turning one’s back on Peter’s tomb; it is therefore understandable that the focal point of the liturgical celebration was the tomb of the Apostle.

There is no shortage of evidence to support the idea that the travertine slab of the first aedicule was used as an altar; the celebration would thus have taken place inside the shrine that incorporated the Trophy, right above the tomb of the Apostle. The importance of the celebration super corpus should not be underestimated, as evidenced by the clash between the presbyter Vigilantius and St. Jerome. Among the practices in use in the fifth century that were challenged by the presbyter was the custom of offering the Holy Sacrifice over the bones of the martyrs. In Contra Vigilantium 8, Jerome asks rhetorically whether perhaps the popes were wrong to offer sacrifices to the Lord above the venerable bones of Peter and Paul – thus supporting the hypothesis that, at the time, in the Vatican basilica, the celebration took place inside the shrine itself and not simply in its vicinity.

Whatever the case, in the fifth century it was not possible to celebrate towards the east in St. Peter’s because of the location of the Confession. It was only with the elevation of the altar that both the super corpus celebration and the correct orientation could be preserved.

An interesting hypothesis is that Pope Vigilius’s decision, mentioned above, may have been motivated by the need to correct incorrect prayer orientations, which arose from the fact that the pope himself celebrated facing west in the Vatican basilica. The misunderstanding of why, in St. Peter’s, the pope had to celebrate in the opposite direction to the traditional one may have led others to celebrate towards the west in churches with an east-facing façade.

Sarum Chants for Christmas

I happened to stumble across this video which was posted on YouTube just a couple of days ago, which contains all the proper chants for the Midnight Mass of Christmas according to the Use of Sarum. The recording was made by the Tallis Scholars many years ago, but this video gives the full score of eaxh part. In addition to the regular parts of the Kyriale, (including a troped Kyrie, which was standard in Sarum), it also includes a brief lesson before the Epistle, Isaiah 9, 2 & 6-7, which is sung with a series of tropes, and a sequence. I plan on updating this post with the full text later, but for now, you can read the text of the former in Latin and English at this link, and the sequence in English here.

The Mass of St David, King and Prophet

In the Roman Martyrology, the second entry after that of St Thomas of Canterbury reads as follows: “At Jerusalem, (the birth into heaven) of St David, King and Prophet.” David is not among the handful of Old Testament Saints to whom there is any historical devotion in the West, but his feast is extremely ancient in the East. In one of the oldest liturgical books of the Rite of Jerusalem, he is commemorated in a joint feast with St James, the Holy City’s first bishop, and assigned to December 25th; this indicates that this observance is even older than the adoption of Christmas as a separate feast in the East, which happened towards the end of the fourth century. It was soon moved, however, first to the 26th, then to the 28th; in the modern Byzantine Rite, it is kept on the Sunday after Christmas, whatever its date may be, and St Joseph has been added to it. (See Liturgy and Byzantinization in Jerusalem, by Dr Daniel Galadza, table 4.5; Oxford, 2017)

In the Roman Rite supplement for the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem issued in 1935, his feast is kept as a double major, and has its own proper Mass. English translations of the texts, and some recordings of its chant parts, most of which come from other Masses, are given below. The Mass is celebrated with commemorations of St Thomas of Canterbury and the octave of Christmas.

The Introit is that of the Fourth Sunday after Easter, with the extra Allelujas of the Easter season removed. This was obviously selected to celebrate David’s role as the author of the Psalms; Psalm 97, from which it is taken, also figures prominently in the Roman Divine Office of Christmas. “Sing to the Lord a new song, for the Lord hath done wondrous things; before the sight of the nations He hath revealed His justice. Ps. His right hand hath wrought for Him salvation, and His arm is holy. Glory be... Sing to the Lord...”

The Collect: God, almighty Father, who by the mouth of David made hymns to be sung in Thy Holy Spirit; grant, we ask, that by his intercession, we may be able to worthily make the sacrifice of praise. Through our Lord...”

The Epistle, 1 Samuel 16, 4-13, recounts David’s election as the new king of Israel in place of Saul, through the anointing administered to him by the prophet Samuel.

The Anointing of David, 1555, by Paolo Veronese. In this typically overcrowded Mannerist composition, there are fourteen people to either side of the central figures of Samuel and David, reminding us of the three groups of fourteen into which St Matthew divides the ancestors of Christ named at the beginning of his Gospel. That this is a deliberate reference is demonstrated by the presence of three women, as there are three women mentioned in the Genealogy, Rahab, Ruth, and the wife of Uriah, i.e. Bathsheba. (Image from Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0)

The Gradual is taken from the first Mass of a bishop and martyr, even though David himself fits neither of these categories, since he is mentioned in it by name. “I have found David my servant: with my holy oil I have anointed him. For my hand shall help him: and my arm shall strengthen him. V. The enemy shall profit nothing against him: nor shall the son of iniquity hurt him.” Psalm 88 from which both it and the Communio are taken is also sung at Matins of Christmas.

The Alleluja is taken from the book of Judges, 5, 3, which is very rarely cited anywhere in the liturgy, and appears to be unique to this Mass. “Hear, O ye kings, give ear, ye princes: It is I, it is I, that will sing to the Lord, I will sing to the Lord the God of Israel.”

Of the various Gospel passages that mention King David, Matthew 22, 41-44, seems to have been chosen for this Mass because in it Christ, whose Birth is celebrated a few days before, obliquely asserts His own divinity. The Messiah must come from the house of David, yet David himself calls him “the Lord”, which would make no sense if the former were no more than a distant descendent. The liturgy of the Christmas octave is very much concerned to assert that the Child who is born in Bethlehem is not a mere mortal, but God Himself revealed in the Incarnation for our salvation.

“At that time: the Pharisees being gathered together, Jesus asked them, saying, ‘What think you of Christ? whose son is he?’ They say to him, ‘David’s.’ He saith to them, ‘How then doth David in spirit call him Lord, saying: The Lord said to my Lord, Sit on my right hand, until I make thy enemies thy footstool?’ ”

The Offertory is taken from the First Sunday of Advent. “To thee have I lifted up my soul; in thee, o my God, I put my trust; let me not be ashamed; neither let my enemies laugh at me: for none of them that wait on thee shall be confounded.”

The Secret: God, who are moved by humbling and appeased by satisfaction, look with kindness upon the contrite and humbled heart of Saint David, that by his example, we, being filled by the spirit of compunction, may be able worthily to offer Thy sacrifice. Through Our Lord... ”

The Communio is also taken from the first mass of a martyr and bishop, another clearly appropriate choice for this feast. “Once have I sworn by my holiness: His seed (i.e. Christ) shall endure for ever. And his throne as the sun before me: and as the moon perfect for ever, and a faithful witness in heaven.”

The Post-Communion: “Lord God, whose only-begotten deigned to be the son of David, , grant we ask, that we by the participation on the his mystery, we may be joined by adoption to the sons of the King of kings by adoption. Through the same...” This also obviously reflects the Christmas season.

The Byzantine Divine Office has an enormous number of proper texts for each feast, and for many days of the temporal cycle. (In the liturgical seasons which are equivalent to the Roman times after Epiphany and Pentecost, most of the proper of the season is repeated on an eight-week rotation.) Two of these texts, which are called the Troparion and the Kontakion, are then repeated as the specific liturgical day requires at the Divine Liturgy, which has far fewer variable parts than the Roman Mass does. Here are the troparion and kontakion of King David, Joseph the Betrothed, and James, the brother of Lord and first bishop of Jerusalem, which unite the Saints in a very clever way for their joint commemoration.

The Troparion Proclaim, o Joseph, the good and wondrous tidings to David, the father (i.e. ancestor) of God; Thou didst see the Virgin with child, thou didst adore with the Magi, thou gavest glory with the shepherds, divinely warned by the angel. Beseech Christ God that our souls may be saved.

The Kontakion Today the divine David is filled with rejoicing, and Joseph brings forth praise with James, for having received a crown by their kinship with Christ, they rejoice, and in hymns exalt Him that is ineffably born on earth, and cry out: O Merciful One, save them that praise Thee!

A 17th century Russian icon of King David; image from Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0

Ancient Altars Facing the People? Nußbaum’s Misinterpretation

We continue Luisella Scrosati’s series on the orientation of Christian worship, with her fourth part, “Altari antichi verso il popolo? L’errata interpretazione di Nußbaum”, originally published in Italian on the website of La Nuova Bussola Quotidiana on November 30, and reproduced here by permission of the editors. (Read Part 1; Part 2; Part 3)

A constant feature of revolutions in the liturgical sphere is the encounter between novelty and antiquity, the convergence between progressivism and archeologism.

In the recent book dedicated to the practice of Communion in the hand, Il cibo dei Serafini. Comunione sulla mano, sì o no? [The Food of the Seraphim: Communion in the Hand, Yes or No?], an attempt was made to show how this phenomenon came about precisely through a misunderstanding of the meaning of ancient sources, interpreted in the light of ideological convictions completely foreign to that context, resulting in a new ritual form that has very little to do with the Church of the early centuries, but much to do with more modern heterodox ideas.

Something similar has also happened with regard to the orientation of prayer and sacred buildings. This misunderstanding was reinforced by a great scholar, Karl Otto Nußbaum (1923-1999), professor of liturgy at the University of Bonn and author of a highly erudite two-volume book published in 1965, Der Standort des Liturgen am christlichen Altar vor dem Jahre 1000. Eine archäologische und liturgiegeschichtliche Untersuchung [The Position of the Celebrant at the Christian Altar before the Year 1000. An Archaeological and Liturgical-Historical Investigation].

Nußbaum recognized that the first Christian churches were built on an east-west axis, with the apse or façade facing east, but he came to the incredible conclusion that “when proper religious buildings appeared, there were no precise rules determining which side of the altar the celebrant should stand on. He could stand either in front of or behind the altar.”

In practice, for Nußbaum, the almost universal orientation of churches did not necessarily indicate an equally universal orientation of prayer and, therefore, of the location of the celebrant, who could freely stand in front of or behind the altar, facing either east or west. According to him, when the apse was located to the east, the priest could celebrate either towards the people or towards the east; however, when the entrance faced east, the priest always faced the people, with the altar between the celebrant and the assembly. It was only from the sixth century onwards that things changed and the priest ended up between the altar and the assembly, facing the apse.

Reviewing Nußbaum’s book in the journal of the Faculty of Theology of the University of Innsbruck, Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie (no. 88, 1966), another great expert on the history of liturgy, the Tyrolean Josef Andreas Jungmann, a member of the Liturgical Commission during the Second Vatican Council, had no hesitation in declaring that “the often-repeated assertion that the early Christian altar presupposed as a rule that it should face the people is a legend.” A scathing criticism.

In fact, Nußbaum did not conclude in favor of celebrations facing the people on the basis of unequivocal archaeological or written data, but on the basis of highly questionable interpretations of some of this data. For example, the existence of the cathedra and the steps for the presbytery in the apse would, for him, be proof of the celebration versus populum. But this location (see Part 2), provides indications about the first part of the Divine Liturgy, dedicated to singing and listening to the Word of God, which took place from an ambo usually located between the nave and the presbytery, but does not testify to anything relating to the liturgy of sacrifice itself.

Another example of a free interpretation: he believed that the church of Kalat Siman, built on the site where St. Simeon Stylites lived, 30 kilometers from Aleppo, was an example of celebration towards the people, although the archaeological remains do not allow the altar to be located with precision, and although the most likely hypotheses place the altar very close to the apse wall, suggesting that the celebrant had to stand on the west side of the altar, facing east.

It is quite evident that Nußbaum’s interpretation of the archaeological data is strongly influenced by prejudice, which, among other things, clouded his view of the numerous written testimonies according to which the orientation of prayer was an established fact, and even attributed to the teaching of the Apostles themselves. Suffice it to consider his reading of the presence of the remains of two churches in Abu Mena, Egypt: although both have their apses facing east, he believed, without any solid evidence, that in one the liturgy was celebrated facing east and in the other facing west. Or to the interpretation that the orientation of churches, particularly the basilicas in Rome and North Africa, with their facades facing east, was evidence of a celebration facing the people.

But what was this prejudice? 

The logical justification given by Nußbaum for systematically giving priority in his theory to the versus populum celebration is that it was “the original form of the Eucharist.” Nußbaum believes that the early Christians participated in the Liturgy of the Word in the temple, but celebrated the Eucharistic banquet in their homes. When the two forms of worship were finally united, it was customary for the presider to stand behind the sacred table, facing the people like an orator in front of an assembly. (Uwe M. Lang, Facing the Lord. Orientation in Liturgical Prayer, 2006, p. 45)

And so we return to where our investigation began: the myth of the domestic church (which I discuss here) and of tables as communal tables (see here, here, and here). Once they had places of worship, the early Christians would (on this theory) have celebrated facing the people, because the Eucharist had been celebrated in homes as a fraternal meal in memory of the Lord. The Lord’s command at the Last Supper – “do this in memory of me” – would have been understood as the perpetuation of the convivial model, in which, of course, all the diners face each other. Only later, when the convivial model was joined by, and then superseded by, the sacrificial model, did the celebrant end up turning his back on the people.

The problem with this interpretation is that, although it is now widespread in the common imagination, it is not based on solid evidence. Instead, the evidence points to an understanding of the Eucharist as a sacrifice (and therefore also as a sacrificial meal) from the beginning, testifying to buildings dedicated to worship and not to common dining rooms, and to actual altars and not to dining tables.

Similarly, there is a great deal of evidence confirming that the orientation of the Church’s prayer since the early centuries was towards the east and was by no means ‘free’. The exceptions, as we shall see, can be explained by specific circumstances that have nothing to do with a celebration facing the people.

Liturgical Notes on the Feast of the Holy Innocents

In the Missal of St Pius V, the feast of the Holy Innocents is celebrated in violet vestments, rather than the red used on all the other feasts of Martyrs. It is also the only feast on which the Gloria in excelsis is omitted, and with it, the Te Deum in the Divine Office; furthermore, the Alleluia at Mass is replaced with a Tract, and Benedicamus Domino is said in place of Ite, missa est, as in Advent and Lent. This custom is attested in the 9th century by Amalarius of Metz, who writes in his treatise On the Ecclesiastical Offices, citing a rubric in his copy of the Gradual, “ ‘The day is passed, as it were, in sadness.’ The author of this Mass wishes us to be joined to the souls of the devout women who mourned and wept at the Innocents’ death.” (book 1, 47) He also attests that the feast of the Innocents was kept with an octave, as were those of St Stephen the First Martyr and St John the Evangelist. (book 4, 37 in fine).

The Massacre of the Innocents, by Tintoretto, 1582-87, from the Scuola Grande di San Rocco in Venice.

Towards the end of the twelfth century, Bishop Sicard of Cremona notes that in addition, the “festive vestments”, i.e. the dalmatic and tunicle, were not worn on this day, and that these signs of mourning were observed because the Innocents, dying before the Resurrection of Christ had opened the gates of heaven, “went down to hell”, (i.e. the Limbo of the Fathers), but also “to represent the sadness of the mothers.” (Mitrale 9.8) He also says (which Amalarius does not) that the feast was not kept with these signs of mourning if it occurred on a Sunday, “because of their future glorification” in heaven.

Writing about a century later, William Durandus rejects Sicard’s idea that these customs refer to the Innocents’ descent to the Limbo of the Fathers, since if that were the case, the same would have to be observed with St John the Baptist. He does agree with Amalarius, citing his words very closely, and then explains that “the songs of joy” (i.e. the Gloria, Te Deum and Alleluia) are sung if the feast falls on Sunday, and always sung on its octave, “to signify the joy which they will receive on the eighth day, that is, in the resurrection. Although they did go down to (the Limbo of the Fathers), nevertheless they will rise with us in glory; for the octaves of feasts are celebrated in memory of the general resurrection, which they signify.” This is exactly the custom prescribed by the Missal of St Pius V and its late medieval antecedents. Durandus also knows of the custom “in many churches” that the dalmatic and tunicle were not worn, but this is not followed by the Tridentine Missal. (Rationale Divinorum Officiorum VII, 42, 11-12)

The Collect of the Innocents traditionally reads as follows: “O God, whose praise the Innocent Martyrs on this day confessed, not by speaking, but by dying, mortify in us all the evils of the vices; that our life also may proclaim in its manners Thy faith, which our tongues profess.” The phrase “mortify in us all the evils of the vices (omnia in nobis vitiorum mala mortifica)”, which has been removed in the Novus Ordo, refers to the traditional interpretation of the last line of Psalm 136 (137), in which the Psalmist curses the “daughter of Babylon” that had sent the children of Israel into exile: “Blessed be he that shall take and dash thy little ones against the rock.” For obvious reasons, this passage was used by the early Church’s critics as an example of evil behavior purportedly sanctioned by the Bible, as also by heretics who rejected the Old Testament, such as the Marcionites and Gnostics.

The Masses of the Holy Innocents and Pope St Sylvester I, in the Sacramentary of St Denis, (folio 26v), second half of the 9th century; Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des Manuscrits, Latin 2290

The 3rd century biblical scholar Origen, whose massive corpus of Scriptural interpretation (now mostly lost) was devoted in large measure to answering such critics, explains the meaning of this passage in a spiritual sense as follows.

(T)he little ones of Babylon (which signifies ‘confusion’) are those troublesome sinful thoughts which arise in the soul, and he who subdues them by striking, as it were, their heads against the firm and solid strength of reason and truth, is the man who dashes the little ones against the stones; and he is therefore truly blessed. God may therefore have commanded men to destroy all their vices utterly, even at their birth, without having enjoined anything contrary to the teaching of Christ.” (Contra Celsum, 7.22)

This explanation is accepted and elaborated upon by several of the Latin Fathers. St Hilary refers to “vices – vitia” eight times in his Treatise on this Psalm; he would also seem to be the first to associate the rock against which the vices are dashed in their “infancy” with the rock which St Paul says was Christ. (1 Corinthians 10, 4). He is followed in this by St Jerome in his 22nd Epistle, written to his spiritual daughter Eustochium, and by St Augustine (Enarratio in Ps. 136). Hilary and Jerome in particular were quite familiar with the Greek Fathers, and especially the famous Origen. Continuing this tradition, St Gregory the Great writes in his Commentary on the Penitential Psalms, “We dash our little ones upon the rock, when we mortify illicit impulses (or ‘passions’) as they arise, by directing the mind towards the imitation of Christ. For it is written ‘But the rock was Christ.’ ”

Of course, the actual children who died in Bethlehem at the hands of King Herod’s soldiers do not represent our vices, and their death does not represent the mortification of our vices. The parallel between the Psalm and the Gospel lies in the fact that in both cases, Christ brings redemption and glory out of an event full of horror and sadness, as He will later do with His own death. In the Old Testament, this is realized only in a spiritual and allegorical way; in the New Testament, the story of the Incarnation, it is realized in the very flesh in which Christ is born and dies as a man, and which He shares with the other sons of Bethlehem. The curse of the Psalm becomes an exhortation to virtue, the words that precede it, “blessed shall he be who shall repay thee thy payment which thou hast paid us,” replaced by Christ’s command, “Bless them that curse you.” The murder of the Innocents in Bethlehem, a sin that cries to Heaven for vengeance, will bring them to glory in Heaven, after the murder of another Innocent opens its gates and effects the redemption of the human race.

This may also be the reason why the Roman Rite developed the custom, which is unique to it, of referring to these children as “the Holy Innocents”, since they did not live long enough to commit any sin, and never lost or struggled to keep the innocence which adults must preserve or regain by the mortification of the vices. In other rites, they are referred to simply as a “children” or “infants.” In the Epistle of their Mass, Apocalypse 14, 1-5, St John the Evangelist, whose feast is kept the previous day, sees that “a Lamb (also a symbol of innocence) stood upon Mount Sion, and with him an hundred forty-four thousand, having his name, and the name of his Father, written on their foreheads. … these were purchased from among men, the firstfruits to God and to the Lamb: And in their mouth there was found no lie; for they are without spot before the throne of God.” Medieval authors in the West, having no idea of the true size of Bethlehem at the time of Christ’s birth, often assumed on the basis of this reading that their number must have been 144,000, but the Byzantine tradition says they were 14,000. (The whole population of the city today is just over 25,000.)

A Greek icon of the Massacre of the Innocents, ca. 1580

Various liturgical scholars, including Fr Frederick Holweck, the author of the Catholic Encyclopedia article on the Holy Innocents, have noted that before the reform of St Pius V, their feast was kept at the middle rank of “Semidouble” in the Use of Rome, rather than the highest rank of Double. None of them, as far as I can tell, has noted that it was the only Semidouble feast kept with an octave. These terms derive from the custom of semidoubling the antiphons in the Office, i.e., not singing them in full, but only intoning them before each psalm or canticle. This may seem rather odd to us now, but was historically far more common than doubling, which became the norm less than 70 years ago. Since both doubling and the keeping of octaves were traditionally reserved for the greatest solemnities, this anomaly may also have been thought of as a sign of mourning.

Holweck also states, incorrectly, that the pre-Tridentine Breviary sang the hymns of Christmas at the Office of the Innocents; in point of fact, the Common hymns of Several Martyrs were used. The Pian Breviary, which is in most regards extremely conservative, introduced two new proper hymns for the feast, stanzas from the Epiphany hymn of the 5th century poet Prudentius; the first three of these are sung at Matins, and the other two at Lauds, to be repeated at Vespers. The latter hymn has become famous in connection with a story about St Philip Neri. He lived for many years at the Roman church of San Girolamo della Carità, right across the street from the Venerable English College, many of whose young students died as martyrs in England under Queen Elizabeth I. He used therefore to greet them with the first line of the hymn “Salvete, flores Martyrum! – Hail ye flowers of the martyrs!”

Salvete flores martyrum, / Quos lucis ipso in limine / Christi insecutor sustulit, / Ceu turbo nascentes rosas.
All hail, ye little Martyr flowers, / Sweet rosebuds cut in dawning hours! / When Herod sought the Christ to find / Ye fell as bloom before the wind.

Vos prima Christi victima, / Grex immolatorum tener, / Aram sub ipsam simplices / Palma et coronis luditis.
First victims of the Martyr bands, / With crowns and palms in tender hands, / Around the very altar, gay / And innocent, ye seem to play.

Jesu, tibi sit gloria, / Qui natus es de Virgine, / Cum Patre et almo Spiritu, / In sempiterna saecula. Amen.
All honor, laud, and glory be, / O Jesu, Virgin-born to thee; / All glory, as is ever meet / To Father and to Paraclete. Amen. (English translation by Msgr. Hugh Thomas Henry and J. M. Neale.)

The Matins Antiphons of St John the Evangelist

In its habitual conservatism, the Roman Breviary has fully proper offices for only two of the Apostles, Ss Andrew and Paul. Most of the others take all the chant propers from the common, and even St Peter himself has proper responsories at Matins, but no proper antiphons. The same is true of St John the Evangelist, whose feast we keep today, even though he is one of the titular saints of the cathedral of Rome.

The upper part of the façade of St John in the Lateran; in the middle are statues of Christ and the two Saints John, the Baptist and the Evangelist. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by NikonZ7II, CC BY-SA 4.0, cropped.)

Of course, many proper offices were created for the Apostles, some of which were more widely adopted than others. One of the most common is a set of very beautiful antiphons for Matins of St John, which are attested in most of the oldest sources for the cathedral office, although it seems they were less widely diffused among the monks. Unlike those of St Andrew, which are drawn from his hagiography, or those of St Paul, many of which are Scriptural, these antiphons are mostly drawn from the writings of the Fathers, although some of them do refer to specific events in the traditional legend of St John.

The text of the first three antiphons is taken directly from St Isidore of Seville’s book “On the birth and death of the Fathers”, chapter 72.

Aña 1 Joannes Apostolus et Evangelista, virgo est electus a Domino, atque inter ceteros magis dilectus. ~ John the Apostle and Evangelist, was chosen as a virgin by the Lord, and more beloved among the others. (This also refers to an argument made by St Jerome in his treatise Against Jovinian (I. 26), who had spoken against the superiority of virginity over marriage.)

Aña 2 Supra pectus Domini Jesu Christi recumbens, Evangelii fluenta de ipso sacro Dominici pectoris fonte potavit. ~ Resting upon the breast of the Lord Jesus Christ, he drank the streams of the Gospel from the sacred font of the Lord’s breast.

The Last Supper, 1324, by Ugolino di Nerio (1280-1330)

Aña 3 Quasi unus de paradisi fluminibus, Evangelista Joannes verbi Dei gratiam in toto terrarum orbe diffudit. ~ Like one of the rivers of Paradise, the Evangelist John poured out the grace of the Word of God in all the earth.

The next two are taken in their specific wording from a homily of St Bede for St John’s feast. (VIII in die natali S Joannis) The fourth antiphon refers to a very ancient story, already known to Tertullian ca. 200 A.D. (de Praescript. 36) that St John came to Rome after the deaths of Ss Peter and Paul, and in the reign of the emperor Domitian, was put into a vessel of boiling oil, but he came out cleaner and healthier than he went in.” This also cited by St Jerome in his treatise Against Jovinian.

Aña 4 In ferventis olei dolium missus Joannes Apostolus, divina se protegente gratia, illæsus exivit. ~ The Apostle John, put into the vat of boiling oil, came out unharmed by the protection of God’s grace.

The traditional story goes on that after this failed attempt to kill him, John was sent into exile on the island of Patmos, where he received the visions of the book of the Apoclypse.

The Martyrdom of St John, 1545/55, by Carlo Portelli. Image from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, CC BY 3.0.

Aña 5 Propter insuperabilem evangelizandi constantiam exsilio relegatus, divinæ visionis et allocutionis meruit crebra consolatione relevari. ~ Because of his invincible constancy in preaching the Gospel, being sent into exile, he merited to be conforted by the frequent consolation of divine vision and address.

After the death of Domitian, he is released from his exile, and returns to Asia Minor to visit the churches. This antiphon seems not be traceable to a specific literary source.

Aña 6 Occurrit beato Joanni, ab exsilio revertenti, omnis populus virorum ac mulierum, clamantium et dicentium: Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. ~ As the blessed John returned from exile, all the people, men and women, came to meet him, crying out and saying, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”

The text of the next antiphon comes partly from a sermon on the Lord’s Supper, subtitled “To the brothers dwelling in the desert”, and falsely attributed to St Augustine. All three of these are quoted in Jacopo da Voragine’s Golden Legend. When St John is very old, and has long outlived all the other Apostles:

Aña 7 Apparuit caro suo Joanni Dominus Jesus Christus cum discipulis suis, et ait illi: Veni, dilecte mi, ad me: quia tempus est ut epuleris in convivio meo cum fratribus tuis. ~ The Lord Jesus Christ appeared to his dear John with his disciples, and said to him, “Come to me, my beloved friend; since it is time for you to dine in my banquet with your brothers.”

Aña 8 Expandens manus suas ad Dominum, dixit: Invitatus ad convivium tuum, venio, gratias agens, quia me dignatus es, Domine Jesu Christe, ad tuas epulas invitare, sciens quod ex toto corde meo desiderabam te. ~ Stretching out his hands to the Lord, He said, “Invited to your feast, I come, giving thanks that you have deigned to invite me to your banquet, o Lord Jesus Christ, knowing that I longed for you with all my heart.”

The Ascension of St John, painted by Giotto ca. 1315 in the Peruzzi Chapel in the Franciscan basilica of the Holy Cross in Florence.

Aña 9 Domine, suscipe me, ut cum fratribus meis sim, cum quibus veniens invitasti me: aperi mihi januam vitæ, et perduc me ad convivium epularum tuarum: tu es enim Christus, Filius Dei vivi, qui præcepto Patris mundum salvasti: tibi gratias referimus per infinita sæculorum sæcula. ~ Lord, receive me, that I may be with my brothers, with whom you have come to invite me; open to me the door of life, and lead me to the feast of your banquet; for you are Christ, the son of the living God, who at the command of the father saved the world; we give you thanks through the endless ages of ages.

End, Don’t Mend, Traditionis Custodes: Guest Essay by Kevin Tierney

We are very grateful to Mr Kevin Tierney for sharing with NLM this insightful essay on the failure of Traditionis Custodes, which I am sure our readers will find especially interesting in light of the upcoming extraordinary consistory. You can find more of his excellent writing on his Substack; He is also on Twitter at https://twitter.com/CatholicSmark

When the cardinals gather in Rome in January at the invitation of Pope Leo XIV, they will discuss, among other things, the sacred liturgy. While not explicitly named, everyone understands that, in this conversation, some of them will raise the topic of Traditionis custodes. To speculate, the ensuing discussion will likely center on how to preserve it while eliminating its worst aspects, such as the rescript that revoked the bishops’ right to regulate the liturgy in their dioceses. I think instead that the cardinals should discuss not how to mend Traditionis custodes, but how to end it.

While normally this discussion centers on why people prefer the TLM vs the Novus Ordo, I’d like to look at the legislation itself, and the culture in which that legislation came into being. A striking thing about Traditionis custodes (hereafter TC) was that the plan had a single point of failure. By his own words, Pope Francis promulgated TC to bring about liturgical uniformity within the Roman Rite, because only liturgical uniformity could faithfully honor the Second Vatican Council. (“This unity I intend to re-establish throughout the Church of the Roman Rite.”) Since the bishop is the moderator of the liturgy in his diocese, Francis entrusted this task to the bishops… who mostly ignored it. This led to Francis changing Church law regarding the liturgy, removing the authority of the local bishop (in the Roman Rite) to regulate the sacred liturgy, and instead putting it in the hands of the head of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, whom he could more easily pressure into eliminating the TLM on a case-by-case basis. In doing so, he exposed TC’s single point of failure.

Dangerous counter-revolutionaries threatening the unity of the Faith!

A single point of failure is an engineering concept where an entire system succeeds or fails based on one point. Many times, a single point of failure is ignored because of all the complex dynamics involved in a system, or the number of data points involved. When that one point fails, the entire system crashes, normally leading to long term disaster. For this reason, the first thing any smart design of a system does is abandon a single point of failure, by either adding redundancy (a backup) or diffusing the risk (distributing the cost of failure between points.)

Pope Francis proved that the person of the Roman Pontiff is TC’s single point of failure. As Diane Montagna revealed, when he asked the bishops for their opinion, the majority told him what he wanted to do was a bad idea. Francis responded to this by bypassing every norm of implementing a law, and demanding that it take immediate effect. He moved a change into a live environment, not knowing if it would work. When it was clear that it would not work, he doubled down on the single point of failure, by making enforcement dependent almost entirely on who is Pope. With the end of a pontificate, the desire to keep enforcing TC would be entirely in the hands of a successor, whose priorities might be very different. I think we have seen this with Leo. While some bishops have attempted to continue to implement the decree, Leo has shown himself far more amenable to the TLM’s continued existence. While some might say that Leo can fix this situation by being less oppressive, this does not change the fundamental reality of TC: few want it, and even fewer are invested in its success.

Solemn Mass celebrated by His Eminence Raymond Cardinal Burke in St Peter’s basilica on October 25th, during this year’s Summorum Pontificum pilgrimage. 

The second reason it should be rescinded is that TC fails to achieve its stated goal. The decree and the documents implementing it claim that a powerful sign of unity will be fostered in the Church because of these actions. I would simply ask the reader to look at the dioceses where this approach has been emphasized. Are Detroit and Charlotte centers of unity and visible communion? Are their bishops united with their pastors and laity? Are those bishops known for being well liked by their brother bishops? To ask these questions is to answer them.

The third reason TC should end is there is no realistic way to get to Yes. When you introduce a change into the world, you must have a way you can measure if it is successful, at which point you can say that “Yes, this worked” or “No, it didn’t.” At what point can you say that TC worked? Does anyone believe, in 2025, that the TLM is going to be abolished? If not, what are the options for getting to that point? The first option would be even greater centralization or a brute force ban of the TLM, options which, whatever their chance of success, just add even more pressure onto that single point of failure. The second would be a mass purging of bishops, and appointing outright yes-men in their place. This would destroy the authority of even bishops sympathetic to TC, and introduce into the dynamic a lot of bishops deprived of their jurisdiction, who would nonetheless still be admired by the faithful, while central authority would be held in contempt. Ecclesiastically speaking, bad things happen in that situation.

Faced with this reality, there will be a temptation to take measures which will turn the temperature down. The rescript could remain in place, but just ignored. Bishops would receive automatic approval to keep having the TLM celebrated, or Rome could drop that part entirely. The rescript could be removed, returning the issue to the bishops entirely. While all of these would be welcomed as short-term measures, they do not address the long-term instability of TC. Most bishops still do not want this decision, and are fine with leaving it to their priests. They either do not care about the TLM, or they want it preserved and encouraged. The younger a priest is, the more conservative he is, and the more at peace he is with the continued existence of the TLM, and not just in America.

Instead of trying to make a dying project work, the cardinals – and the Church at large – have a chance to introduce a new question: instead of trying to check off long desired ideological goals that have no relevance to today’s Catholics, what can we do to make it easier for Catholics to follow Christ?