Sitientes Saturday, The Last Day of Lent

In the liturgical books of the traditional Roman Rite, today is the last day of “Quadragesima”, the Latin word for Lent; since the mid-ninth century, tomorrow has been called “Dominica de Passione”, usually translated in English as “Passion Sunday.” The last two weeks of the season are collectively known as “Tempus Passionis – Passiontide”; the custom of joining them as a liturgical period distinct from the rest of Lent is unique to the Roman Rite. However, the specific liturgical character of this period is older than its formal nomenclature, and the traditional Mass for today marks the transition in several ways.

The Introit, Isaiah 55, 1, is a rare example of one taken from a prophetic book, rather than the Psalms; the text is slightly different from that of the Vulgate. “Sitientes, veníte ad aquas, dicit Dóminus: et qui non habétis pretium, veníte et bíbite cum laetitia. – Ye that thirst, come to the waters, saith the Lord; and ye that have not the price, come and drink with rejoicing.” On the Easter vigil, these words are read as part of the fifth prophecy, Isaiah 54, 17, and 55, 1-11, in reference to the waters of baptism. At the beginning of Lent, on Tuesday of the first week, a shorter version of the same passage is read, starting at verse 6, “Seek ye the Lord, while He may be found; call upon Him, while He is near.” The fuller reading indicates that those who began to seek the Lord by enrolling themselves in the catechumenate, having completed their initiation into the Faith over the course of Lent, will indeed find Him when they come to the waters.

The Epistle is taken from a different chapter of Isaiah, 49, 8-15, and is deliberately chosen to mark the closure of the first part of Lent. On the First Sunday of Lent, the Epistle, 2 Corinthians 6, 1-10, begins with a citation of this passage: “We exhort you, that you receive not the grace of God in vain; for he saith, ‘In an accepted time have I heard thee; and in the day of salvation have I helped thee.’ (Isaiah 49, 8) Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” Before Ash Wednesday was instituted in the 7th century, this passage of St Paul was the very first Scriptural reading of Lent. These two readings form the bookends of the first four weeks, which emphasize catechumenal lessons and the discipline of fasting, before the shift in tone towards meditation on the Lord’s Passion that marks the last two weeks much more notably.

Today, the passage from Isaiah continues: “I have preserved thee, and given thee to be a covenant of the people, that thou might raise up the earth, and possess the inheritances that were destroyed: that thou might say to them that are bound, ‘Come forth!’, and to them that are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves. … For he that is merciful to them, shall be their shepherd, and at the fountains of waters he shall give them drink.” The “inheritances that were destroyed” are the various nations of men, lost in the darkness of sin. Three days earlier, the catechumens heard the story of the man born blind (John 9, 1-38), whom the Church Fathers understood to represent the condition of Man before the coming of Christ. As St Augustine writes “… the whole world is blind. Therefore Christ came to illuminate, since the devil had blinded us. He who deceived the first man caused all men to be born blind.” (Sermon 135 against the Arians) In baptism, at “the fountains of waters”, Christ calls them out of darkness, as He did the man born blind.

Christ Healing the Blind Man, from the church of Sant’Angelo in Formis, Capua, Italy, ca. 1080.

The words that follow, “Behold these shall come from afar, and behold these from the north and from the sea, and these from the south country,” (verse 12) would certainly have been read in Rome, “the head of the world”, as a reference to the many nations of the Empire present in its capital. From the very beginning, the Church had always been concerned to assert that Christ came to the Jewish people, to whom the promises of mankind’s redemption were made, but came as the Savior and Redeemer of all nations.

The Gradual is taken from Psalm 9: “To thee, o Lord, is the poor man left: thou wilt be a helper to the orphan. V. Why, O Lord, hast thou retired afar off? why dost thou slight us in our wants, in the time of trouble? While the wicked man is proud, the poor is set on fire.” This text refers to the original Roman station of this day, which was kept at the church of St Lawrence Outside-the-Walls, where the great martyr is buried. He was very famously one of the deacons to whom the care of the poor was left in the Lord’s name; the words “the poor man is set on fire” refer to the manner of his martyrdom, which took place after he had given away all of the Church’s charitable funds.

The Martyrdom of Saint Lawrence, by Titian, 1567; from the Spanish Royal Monastery of the Escorial.

The station was later transferred to the church of St Nicolas ‘in Carcere’, i.e., in the prison, where, according to a late and unreliable tradition, the Saint was imprisoned by the Emperor Constantius for refusing to accept the Arian heresy. The Bl. Ildephonse Schuster posits in his book The Sacramentary that this change was made in part because the procession to the former station had become inconvenient “in the showery weather of March.” This seems to me a very improbable explanation, since the two stations are almost exactly the same distance from the medieval residence of the Popes at St John in the Lateran, and the weather cannot have been radically different on one route as opposed to the other.

On the preceding Thursday, the station is held at the church jointly dedicated to Ss Silvester and Martin, who were among the first Confessors to be venerated as Saints, and certainly the most popular. On Friday, it is held at the church of St Eusebius, a Roman priest who was also a Confessor, but in the original sense of the term, one who suffered for the Faith, but was not violently put to death. With the addition of this new station, the season of Quadragesima closes with a celebration of the newer Saints, those who came after the age of the Apostles and Martyrs.

The Gospel of the day, John 8, 12-20, begins with another reference to the upcoming ceremonies of baptism, referring back to the words of the Epistle about calling the nations out of darkness. “I am the light of the world: he that followeth Me, walketh not in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” But it is the closing words which shift the liturgy’s thought forward to the Lord’s Passion. “These words Jesus spoke in the treasury, teaching in the temple: and no man laid hands on Him, because His hour was not yet come.” Very shortly, however, when hands are laid on Him to bring Him to trial, He will say, “When I was daily with you in the temple, you did not stretch forth your hands against Me; but this is your hour, and the power of darkness.” The Gospels read after this day, in Passion week and Holy Week, will all speak far more clearly than those of the first four weeks about Christ’s impending arrest, trial, condemnation and passion, and frequently in reference to the temple. “They took up stones therefore to cast at him. But Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple.” (Passion Sunday, John 8, 59) “then He also went up to the feast, not openly, but, as it were, in secret. … And there was much murmuring among the multitude concerning Him, for some said, ‘He is a good man,’ and others said, ‘No, but he seduceth the people.’ ” (John 7, 10 and 12, Passion Tuesday)

The Communion antiphon forms part of a series which begins on Ash Wednesday with Psalm 1, and continues through the Psalms in numerical order until the Friday of Passion week. (The series is interrupted several times for various reasons, and does not include Holy Week.) On this day, it is the beginning of Psalm 22, “The Lord ruleth me: and I shall want nothing. He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment.” “Pasture” refers back once again to the Epistle from Isaiah 49, specifically the verses “They shall feed in the ways, and their pastures shall be in every plain.”, while the final words speak yet again of Baptism.

The Implications of Baby Names

Madison in Splash

Baby names made the news earlier this week when New York Times journalist Madison Malone Kircher posted an article entitled “Have We Reached Peak Baby Names?” Kircher notes that in 2024 almost anything can become a name. Gone are the days when unusual names raised eyebrows, as in 1984 when the name Madison for a girl skyrocketed after the mermaid in the movie Splash (Daryl Hannah) looked at a street sign in Manhattan and told her beau Allen (Tom Hanks) that that was her name (hey! that’s the NYT journalist’s first name as well!). Even attempts to parody this trend appear to backfire. In a 1996 episode of Seinfeld, the ever-foolish George Costanza wishes to name his future child Seven in honor of Mickey Mantle’s number for the New York Yankees. Since the episode’s debut, the Social Security Administration reports, the popularity of the name Seven has spiked.

It was not always so. It is speculated that one of the reasons that “Michael” was, with the exception of 1960, the most popular boys’ name in the United States from 1954 to 1998 was because the warrior Archangel who defeated Satan and his minions was invoked to protect our troops against the wicked legions of Hitler and Tojo during World War II.[1] The returning GIs—Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish—remembered Michael’s patronage and gratefully named their sons after him.

The Heraclitan flux of contemporary baby names stands in sharp contrast to the Church’s traditional teaching on the subject. The 1917 Code of Canon Law states:

Curent Parochi ut ei qui baptizatur, christianum imponatur nomen; quod si id consequi non poterunt, nomini a parentibus imposito addant nomen alicujus Sancti et in libro baptizatorum utrumque nomen perscribant (§761).

Which I translate as:

Pastors should see to it that someone who is baptized be given a Christian name; if, however, they do not succeed in this, they should add to the name given by the parents the name of some Saint and enter both names in the baptismal register.

The Rituale Romanum repeats this law and further elaborates:

Et quoniam iis qui baptizantur, tamquam Dei filiis in Christo regenerandis, et in ejus militiam adscribendis, nomen imponitur, curet, ne obscoena, fabulosa, aut ridicula, vel inanium deorum, vel impiorum ethnicorum hominum nomina imponantur, sed potius, ut jam supra num dictum est, Sanctorum, quorum exemplis fideles ad pie vivendum excitentur, et patrociniis protegantur (§70).

Which I translate as:

And seeing that a name is given to those who are baptized (and who are to be regenerated in Christ as sons of God and enlisted into His army), care should be taken that no obscene, fabulous, or ridiculous names, either of inane gods or of impious heathen persons, should be given; rather, as stated above, they should be given the names of the Saints, by whose example the faithful are stirred up to live piously, and by whose patronage they are protected.

The instruction is admirably direct. The estimable Philip T. Weller translates obscoena, fabulosa, aut ridicula as “ugly, notorious, or ridiculous,” but I think a more literal translation is warranted. [2] Obscene names are names that are literally “off-stage” (ob-scena), too vulgar to be used for the noble role that a Christian plays in the great theater of life. Fabulous names are from fables (such as Achilles, Odysseus, and Aeneas) and, perhaps we should add, from sitcoms like Seinfeld. Ridiculous names are self-explanatory, and perhaps in need of more scrutiny today. In her article, Madison Kircher mentions some of the names bandied about on Tik Tok for babies; they include Tank, Flick, Halo, Dew, Ethereal, and Orca.

The Rituale states not only a rule for naming but offers a rationale behind it. A baptized person is regenerated in Christ as an adopted son of God and enlisted in Christ’s military service (militia). He no longer belongs to himself or even to his earthly family, for he no longer lives but Christ lives in him. (Gal. 2, 20) And with a new identity comes a new name.

Finally, the Rituale requires the use of a Saint’s name. Being named after a Saint provides inspiration for the person so named, and it establishes a patron-client relationship. Because of this relationship, a Christian can turn to his patron Saint in times of need and look forward to his “name day,” his patron saint's feast day. Reflecting on this relationship, the great liturgical author Fr. Francis X. Weiser, SJ recalls:

According to ancient traditions, the name-day is festively held in Christian homes. I remember how from early childhood I went to church with my father every year on the feast of St. Francis Xavier, attending the Holy Sacrifice and later receiving Communion, too. Returning home, I found the table cheerfully decorated with flowers and little presents. Mother, Father, brothers and sisters offered their congratulations. Then we sat down to a joyful breakfast, my proud little self sitting in the place of honor. And all this because centuries ago a wonderful young man in Spain loved God so much that he became a Saint. I cannot express the powerful conviction that filled me every year on this occasion, how great and important it is to become holy. This was one of the eloquent lessons which our religious customs taught me without words, but with an effect greater than many words could achieve. Judging from this aspect, we may truly say that such Catholic customs in the home educate the children more efficiently than the best Catholic teachers could ever do in school.[3]

Biblical Inspiration

The impetus behind favoring saintly names is derived from the Sacred Scriptures, where two principles are operative. The first is what we may call nominal realism, where the name designates the essence of the person. Adam is ha-Adam, the human being, while his wife is Ishah, the “woman” (“from the man”) as well as “Eve,” the mother of the living. Jacob is the “heel-grabber” who usurps his twin brother Esau. Needless to say, God is the best namer in this category, for He knows things according to their essences better than any other.

The second principle is nominal vocationalism. When God confers a new purpose or identity upon someone, He often gives him a new name. Abram becomes Abraham, Sarai becomes Sarah, Jacob becomes Israel, Simon bar Jonah becomes Saint Peter, and Saul of Tarsus becomes St. Paul. The concept of vocational naming was so strong in the Christian imagination that it affected not only baptismal names but religious names as well (the taking of a new name during final religious vows) and confirmation names--which, curiously, are nowhere mentioned in the liturgical rubrics either before or after Vatican II, but have been customary since the Middle Ages as a way of marking the significance of the sacrament.

From Abram to Abraham, “Father of the Multitude”

Nominal Determinism

And there is an additional temptation. Nominative or nominal determinism is the concept whereby one’s name determines one’s destiny. One website has chalked up some amusing examples in support of this theory: the neuroscientist Lord Brain, the Cherokee feminist Wilma Mankiller, the lawyer Sue Yoo, the ophthalmologist Dr. Ashley Seawright, a music teacher named Miss C. Sharp, and last but not least, the gastroenterologist Dr. Joshua Butt.

Personally, I marvel at the fact that Archbishop Annibale Bugnini’s parents gave him not the name of a Saint but of the Carthaginian general whose name means “the Grace of Ba’al” and who swore to his father at the age of nine that for as long as he lived he would never be a friend of Rome. [4] One would have thought that “Hannibal,” at least to a son of Italy, eminently qualifies as the name of an “impious heathen person,” and yet the name was common before Vatican II and remains popular in Italian-speaking communities to this day. A nominal spin on loving thy enemy?

Hannibal Swears Enmity to Rome

Annibale ad portas!

It also strikes me as appropriate that the father of liberal Protestant theology is named Schleiermacher, or “veil-maker,” and that a previous Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (the former Holy Inquisition) should have the name “rat-catcher,” or Ratzinger.

Of course, outside the biblical narrative, there are dangers in taking nominal determinism seriously. Having the name Hooker does not make one unchaste, and not everyone named Victor is a winner. When my wife and I named our daughter Monica Grace, our friends, knowing my work on St. Augustine of Hippo, congratulated me on such a thoroughly Augustinian name: Monica for Augustine’s mother, and Grace for his title, the Doctor of Grace. Their reading is perfectly valid, although we chose the name out of familial piety: Monica is my mother’s middle name, and Grace is my mother-in-law’s middle name.

Imperfect Practice

Despite the explicit guidelines of the 1917 Code of Canon Law and the Rituale Romanum, Catholic naming has never historically been in complete compliance with the principle that one’s Christian name should be that of a canonized Saint. In Hispanic cultures, names like Concepcion, Dolores, and Soledad honor titles of the Blessed Virgin Mary—Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, Our Lady of Sorrows, and Our Lady of Solitude, respectively. Similarly, English names include Grace, Hope, and Charity. Catholics have been known to name their child Trinity, which is not a Saint but the Godhead itself. And, of course, there is the use of the Holy Name of Jesus as a boy’s name in Spanish-speaking cultures and among Arab Christians. Finally, the parents of the mystic stigmatist Blessed Hosanna of Mantua (1449-1505) named their daughter after a Hebrew exclamation or a word in the Mass.

Hosanna of Mantua: a Blessed not named after a Saint

1983 Code of Canon Law

The new legislation has no language about obscene, fabulous, and ridiculous names, nor does it admonish parents or pastors to name infants after Catholic Saints. Canon 855 of the 1983 Code of Canon Law simply states:

Curent parentes, patrini et parochus ne imponatur nomen a sensu christiano alienum.

Which the official translation renders:

Parents, sponsors, and the pastor are to take care that a name foreign to Christian sensibility is not given.

On one hand, “foreign to Christian sensibility” overcomes the discrepancy between the old official policy of a Saint’s-name-only with the immemorial custom of also naming children after different Christian mysteries or titles. On the other, it may not do enough to promote Christian identity. Indigo is a purplish-blue dye from plants native to India, and it is now a popular name for both boys and girls. Is it alien to Christian sensibility? There are, after all, Saints named after colors (Albanus, Candidus, Rufus, etc.), and Indigo is not the name of an inane god or an impious heathen. Even so, what the new instructions lack is a robust understanding of the baptismal name as a link to a person’s new vocation and to a Saint who is both inspiration and patron and, once a year, the source of a little boy or girl’s joy. And insofar as the new instructions do not foster customs such as name-days or personal devotion to a Saint, they do not contribute to Catholic culture or to individual Catholic formation.

Branding

Ms. Kircher’s article in the Times cites Emily Kim, a full-time baby name consultant who charges $295 for a five-minute session for her personalized suggestions. “A baby name is just one facet of your personal style, in the same way home décor and clothing is part of your style,” Ms. Kim said:

In our parents’ day, the elements of your personal style were known by your close friends and maybe your neighbors, your family, but your style wasn’t showcased on a larger scale to acquaintances and strangers in the way that is the norm now.

Put cynically, we now name our children to showcase ourselves rather than attempt to name their essence or their vocation or their destiny. Of course, Catholics can also be accused of promoting their own “brand” by adhering to Saints’ names or the like, and yet there remains a difference between a universal brand that sees children as a gift from God of which the parents are mere stewards and guardians, and a particular brand that sees children as an extension of a couple’s ego and idiosyncrasies. Surely the latter worldview, and the baby names that it engenders, are foreign to Christian sensibility.

Michael Patrick Foley is a baby name consultant who offers free, unsolicited, and generally unwelcome advice on how to name your baby. He was not paid $295 for this article, even though he worked way more than five minutes on it.

Notes

[1] Janet Adamy, “New Parents Drop the Mike --- U.S. boys named Michael dip to 76-year low,” Wall Street Journal (May 13, 2017), A1.

[2] Philip T. Weller, The Roman Ritual: The Sacraments and Processions, vol. 1 (Bruce Publishing Co., 1950), 37.

[3] Francis X. Weiser, SJ, Religious Customs in the Family: The Radiation of the Liturgy into Catholic Homes (Collegeville, 1956), 27.

[4] There is a Saint Hannibal Mary di Francia, but Bugnini was born in 1912 and St. Hannibal did not die until 1927.

The Mass of Pentecost Monday

From the most ancient times, Pentecost has been celebrated in the Roman Rite as one of the Church’s great baptismal feasts, and it therefore shares some important characteristics with Easter, the baptismal feast par excellence. One very notable point on which they differ, however, is the relationship between the texts of the Mass and the station churches at which they are celebrated. The stations of the Easter octave are arranged according to the hierarchical order of their dedication: first, the vigil at the cathedral of Rome, which is titled to the Lord, then St Mary Major on Easter Sunday, followed by the tombs of the city’s three Patron Saints, Peter, Paul and Lawrence, and then the basilicas of the Twelve Apostles and of all the martyrs. With the exception of Easter itself, the Masses of the octave contain many references and allusions to those Saints. During Pentecost week, on the other hand, the station churches are arranged in deliberate imitation of those of the first week of Lent, since both weeks include the celebration of the Ember days. The Masses celebrated at them contain almost no references to their station churches, with one notable exception, that of Pentecost Monday, when the station is kept at the church of St Peter in Chains.

The Introit, which begins with the words “He fed them with the finest of the wheat”, might seem more appropriate for Ember Wednesday, when the Gospel, John 6, 44-52, is taken from the passage known as the Bread of Life discourse. And indeed, St Thomas Aquinas would later borrow this same introit for the Mass of Corpus Christi. In this case, however, the second part of it, “and filled them with honey out of the rock,” is a reference to the very ancient tradition that when St Peter was jailed in the Mamertine prison in Rome, held with the very chains that the church was built to house and honor, he converted his jailers, Ss Processus and Martinian. For lack of any water with which to baptize them, Peter, like Moses before him, knocked on the solid rock of the prison walls, making water flow from them. This also refers to the baptismal character of Pentecost, since those who had been newly baptized on the vigil the previous Saturday would then, of course, also have partaken of the Bread of Life for the first time.

An ancient Christian sarcophagus known as the Sarcophagus of the Two Brothers, made in the second quarter of the 4th century, now in the Vatican Museums. The episode of St Peter making water run from the rock is at far left of the lower register.

The Collect of this Mass is the only prayer within the week that refers to the Apostles. “O God, Who gave the Holy Spirit to Thy Apostles, grant to Thy people the (desired) effect of their devout prayer; that Thou may bestow also peace upon those to whom Thou hast given faith.”

On Easter Monday, when the station is at the church of St Peter in the Vatican, the Epistle, Acts 10, 37-43, is taken from the Apostle’s discourse in the house of Simon the tanner, and refers to both baptism and the Resurrection.

“You know the word which hath been published through all Judea: for it began from Galilee, after the baptism which John preached, Jesus of Nazareth: how God anointed him with the Holy Ghost, and with power, who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. And we are witnesses of all things that he did in the land of the Jews and in Jerusalem, whom they killed, hanging him upon a tree. Him God raised up the third day, and gave him to be made manifest, not to all the people, but to witnesses preordained by God, even to us, who did eat and drink with him after he arose again from the dead; And he * commanded us to preach to the people, and to testify that it is he who was appointed by God, to be judge of the living and of the dead. To him all the prophets give testimony, that by his name all receive remission of sins, who believe in him.”

On Pentecost Monday, the Epistle repeats the last two verses from Easter Monday (beginning at the star noted above), then continues to verse 48, with the descent of the Holy Spirit upon all those who hear Peter speaking, and their subsequent baptism.

“While Peter was yet speaking these words, the Holy Ghost fell on all them that heard the word. And the faithful of the circumcision, who came with Peter, were astonished, for that the grace of the Holy Ghost was poured out upon the gentiles also. For they heard them speaking with tongues, and magnifying God. Then Peter answered, ‘Can any man forbid water, that these should not be baptized, who have received the Holy Ghost, as well as we?’ And he commanded them to be baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The Baptism of the Centurion Cornelius, 1658 by Michel Corneille l’Ancien (1601-64); Museum of the Hermitage, St Petersburg.

The reference to “the gentiles” in a Roman station church reminds us that Ss Peter and Paul both came to Rome as the ideal place from which to preach of the Christian faith to people from every corner of the world.

The first Alleluja verse paraphrases the end of the Epistle of Pentecost Sunday, in words which also appear repeatedly in the Divine Office: “In varied tongues the Apostles were speaking the wondrous deeds of God.” The second Alleluja and the Sequence that follow are sung at every Mass of the octave.

(A particularly good motet of the words “Loquebantur variis linguis” by Thomas Tallis.)

The Gospel, John 3, 16-21, clarifies the words of St Peter in the Epistle that speak of Christ as the one “appointed by God to be judge of the living and of the dead.”

“For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting. For God sent not his Son into the world, to judge the world, but that the world may be saved by him. He that believeth in him is not judged. But he that doth not believe, is already judged: because he believeth not in the name of the only begotten Son of God. And this is the judgment: because the light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than the light: for their works were evil. For every one that doth evil hateth the light, and cometh not to the light, that his works may not be reproved. But he that doth truth, cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest, because they are done in God.”

The Offertory is repeated from Easter Tuesday: “Intónuit de caelo Dóminus, et Altíssimus dedit vocem suam, et apparuérunt fontes aquárum, allelúja. – The Lord thundered from heaven, the Most High gave forth His voice, and the fountains of waters appeared, alleluja.” (Psalm 17, 14 and 16)

This was clearly chosen in reference to the story of St Peter making water run from the rock noted above, but also perhaps because the station on Easter Tuesday is kept at the basilica of St Paul Outside-the-Walls, which houses the tomb of the Roman church’s other Apostolic founder. Just as the two Apostles share a feast day, and almost always appear together in early Christian and medieval art, likewise, the church of St Peter in Chains was originally dedicated also to St Paul.

A modern copy of a dedicatory inscription placed in the basilica of St Peter in Chains by Pope St Sixtus III (432-40), who says that he adorns the church with the names of Peter and Paul together (“Petri Paulique simul ... nomine signo”), and asks them both to receive it from him as a gift (“pares unum duo sumite munus.”) - Image from Wikimedia Commons by Luciano Tronati, CC BY-SA 4.0.

An ancient commentary on the Psalms, attributed with uncertainty to Rufinus of Aquileia, says that the “fountains of water are the gifts of the Holy Spirit.” (Commentarius in LXXV Psalmos; Ps. XVII, 16; PL XXI, col. 705D). Another commentary on the Psalms, uncertainly attributed to Rufinus’ friend and correspondent St Jerome (with whom he later had a very sharp and long-running theological dispute), says that “the fountains” are the Apostles themselves. “The fountains are the Apostles, as if (to say that) they were given to drink from the one fountain… which is Christ… as it says in the Gospel, ‘He that shall drink the water which I shall give him will not thirst forever.’ (John 4, 14) And in another sense, the fountains of water are those who through the sacrament of baptism have become a fountain of the living water springing up for sinners unto eternal life.” (Breviarium in Psalmos, Ps. XVII; PL XXVI, col. 866D) Either interpretation makes this Psalm an appropriate choice in light of both the baptismal character of the feast and the celebration at this particular station.

Finally, the Communio is also taken from the Gospel of Pentecost, words addressed by Christ to the Apostles. “The Holy Spirit will teach you, alleluja, all things whatsoever I shall say to you, alleluja, alleluja.” The plural “you” is perhaps also reminiscent of the church’s ancient dedication to both Peter and Paul.

The Psalms of Pentecost

In the traditional Roman Divine Office, the only Hours which change their Psalms according to the specific feast day are Matins and Vespers. [1] On the majority of feasts, the first four Psalms of Vespers (109-112) are taken from Sunday, but Psalm 113, the fifth and longest of Sunday, is substituted by another; on the feasts of martyrs, by Psalm 115, on those of bishops by 131, etc. There are, however, four occasions on which Psalm 113 is not replaced, three of which are very ancient indeed, and the fourth relatively recent in origin.

The latecomer is the feast of the Holy Trinity, which was first instituted at Liège in the 10th century, and spread from there very slowly. Pope John XXII (1316-34) ordered that it be celebrated throughout the Western Church on the Sunday after Pentecost, a custom which became universal after Trent; however, even as late as the mid-16th century, the Low Countries and several major German dioceses kept that day as the Octave of Pentecost, and put Trinity on the following Monday. The use of Psalm 113 at Second Vespers is a reminder of the day’s previous status as either the octave of Pentecost, or the first of the ordinary Sundays after it.

A page from a Breviary according to the Use of Augsburg, Germany, ca. 1493. In the right column, the first rubric reads “And so on Monday after the octave of Pentecost will the feast of the Trinity be celebrated.”

The three ancient feasts are Easter, Pentecost and Epiphany, on which it is said on the day itself and through the octave. (Some medieval Uses, however, vary this.) This custom reflects the traditional baptismal character of these celebrations, which go back to the very earliest days of the Church.

The Psalm numbered 113 in the Septuagint and Vulgate is really two Psalms joined together, those numbered 114 and 115 in the Hebrew. [2] It is the first of these which speaks of the passage of the Jews out of Egypt, and then of the Crossing of the Jordan into the Holy Land.

“When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a barbarous people: Judea became his sanctuary, Israel his dominion. The sea saw and fled (i.e. the Red Sea): the Jordan was turned back. … What ailed thee, O sea, that thou didst flee: and thou, O Jordan, that thou wast turned back? … At the presence of the Lord the earth was moved, at the presence of the God of Jacob, who turned the rock into pools of water, and the stony hill into fountains of waters.”

The Church has always understood the story of the Exodus as a prefiguration of salvation in Christ, and specifically, the Crossing of the Red Sea as a prefiguration of the Sacrament of Baptism. The reading of the relevant passage from Exodus is attested in the very oldest surviving homily on the subject of Easter, the Paschal homily of St Melito of Sardis, from the mid-2nd century; it begins with the words “The Scripture about the Hebrew Exodus has been read”, and this custom continues into every historical Christian liturgy. Following the lead of St Paul, who says that the rock which provided water to the children of Israel in the desert was Christ (1 Cor. 10, 4), St Melito attributes all of the events of the Exodus directly to Him.

“This was the one who guided you into Egypt, and guarded you, and himself kept you well supplied there. This was the one who lighted your route with a column of fire, and provided shade for you by means of a cloud, the one who divided the Red Sea, and led you across it, and scattered your enemy abroad. This is the one who provided you with manna from heaven, the one who gave you water to drink from a rock, the one who established your laws in Horeb, the one who gave you an inheritance in the land, the one who sent out his prophets to you, the one who raised up your kings. This is the one who came to you, the one who healed your suffering ones and who resurrected your dead.”

Psalm 113, therefore, which speaks of the Red Sea fleeing to make passage for the children of Israel as they go out of Egypt, and the rock that becomes a pool of water, is perfectly suitable to the two most ancient feasts on which the Church celebrates the Sacrament of Baptism, Easter and Pentecost. Likewise, on Epiphany, the Church commemorates the Baptism of Christ in the waters of the Jordan, to which the Psalm also refers.

The Crossing of the Red Sea, by Agnolo di Cosimo, known as Bronzino, 1540; from the Chapel of Eleonora of Toledo in the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence.

Matins of Pentecost, like those of Easter, has only three Psalms; these are 47, 67 and 103 according to the Vulgate numbering. The antiphon sung with Psalm 47 is not taken from it, but from the Acts of the Apostles (2, 2): “There suddenly came a sound from heaven, as of a mighty wind coming, alleluia, alleluia.” The psalm seems to have been chosen because of the words of its first verse, “Great is the Lord, and exceedingly to be praised in the city of our God, in his holy mountain.”, the city of our God being Jerusalem, where the first Pentecost took place. And likewise, the second verse, “With the joy of the whole earth is mount Sion founded”, may be referred to the preaching of the Gospel to all nations, which begins on Pentecost.

The third Psalm, 103, describes the glory of God throughout His creation, drawing us back to the very beginning of the Bible, when God created the heaven and the earth. “Who stretchest out the heaven like a pavilion … Who hast founded the earth upon its own bases.” It is sung with an antiphon from verse 30 which makes it obvious why it was chosen, “Send forth thy spirit, and they shall be created: and thou shalt renew the face of the earth, alleluia, alleluia.”, for the renewal of creation at the coming of the Holy Spirit is also celebrated at Pentecost. The Byzantine Rite expresses this idea of renewal very beautifully in the traditional icon for the feast. At the bottom is placed the figure of an aged king, who represents the world grown old in sin and idolatry, and living in darkness. In the cloth in his hands are scrolls, which represent the teaching of the Apostles, by which he will receive the Gospel and the renewal of the Holy Spirit.

St Paul is included among the Apostles, he was not present at Pentecost; this demonstrates that the Holy Spirit continues His mission in the Church even after the day of Pentecost itself. The other Apostles are holding scrolls, representing their role as the Church’s teachers.

It is also a common custom to fill the church with greenery for the feast day, and although there is no absolutely formalized liturgical color scheme, among the Slavs, it has become standard to use green vestments. In Ukrainian, this has given rise to a nickname for the feast, “Зелені свята – green holiday.”

St Peter’s Eastern Catholic Church in Ukiah, California, decorated for Pentecost in 2018.

The choice of the middle psalm, 67, is also explained in part by its antiphon, which is taken from verses 29 and 30, “Confirm, O God, what thou hast wrought in us, from Thy holy temple in Jerusalem, alleluia, alleluia.” This refers to the place of the first Pentecost, and the last words of the Gospel of St Luke, who says that after the Ascension, the Apostles “were always in the temple, praising and blessing God.”

This is famously one of the most difficult texts in the entire Psalter. There are a number of lines which are very hard to understand, and endless emendations have been proposed for the Hebrew. These difficult readings carry over into its first translation, the Septuagint, and thus to the Vulgate, which derives from it; a good example is verse 14, “If you sleep among the midst of lots, you shall be as the wings of a dove covered with silver,” But even where the individual lines are perfectly clear, the psalm as a whole is not; indeed, the thought of it is so disjointed that some Biblical scholars have proposed that it was not originally written as a psalm at all, but rather as a list of titles of psalms which are now lost, or a collection of their first lines, or a collection of fragments.

It is precisely this disjointed quality that makes it a perfectly appropriate choice for Pentecost. When the people in Jerusalem first heard the Apostles speaking in a variety of languages, “they were all astonished, and wondered, saying one to another: What meaneth this? But others mocking, said, ‘These men are full of new wine.’ ” This confusion is reflected by the confusion of thoughts in the psalm. But St Peter explains to them that “these men are not drunk, as you suppose, … but this is that which was spoken of by the prophet Joel, ‘And it shall come to pass, in the last days, (saith the Lord,) I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh.’ ” (Acts 2, 12-17, citing Joel 2, 28) The Apostolic preaching takes away their confusion, as it reveals to them the true meaning of the Old Testament. We may therefore conclude by noting that St Augustine explains the “lots” in the verse given above as symbols of the two Testaments, and that “sleeping” between them signifies the Church’s peaceful acceptance of the harmony between them. (Enarratio in Psalmum LXVII)

St Peter Preaching in Jerusalem, by Charles Poërson, 1645. (The twisted columns in the background will be familiar to anyone who has visited St Peter’s in Rome, and the many Baroque churches throughout Europe that imitated the Vatican Basilica. They are also known as “Solomonic” columns, from the legend that the Emperor Constantine recovered them from the ruins of Solomon’s Temple, and brought them to Rome to decorate the original church. On the basis of this wholly mistaken but widely accepted belief, artists often included them when representing the Jerusalem Temple.)

[1] The regular psalms of Sunday Lauds (92, 99, 62-66, the Benedicite, and 148-149-150) were traditionally said on all feast days in the Roman Rite. In the reform of St Pius X, psalms 66, 149 and 150 were, lamentably, removed, but the group thus reduced continued to be used on all major feasts, including Pentecost. The psalms of the day hours were likewise traditionally invariable for all feasts (53 and the eleven parts of 118), and those of Compline always invariable; this was also changed in the reform of St Pius X, but not in a way that applied to major feasts like Pentecost.

[2] There are four places where the Psalms are joined or divided one way in the Hebrew and another in the Greek. There are also psalms which both traditions have as a single text, but are generally believed to be two joined together, (e.g. 26), and others which both traditions have as two (41 and 42), which are generally believed to have originally been one, later divided. It is quite possible that these variations come from ancient liturgical usages of which all knowledge has long since been lost. Likewise, the meaning of many words and phrases in the titles of the Psalms had already been lost when the Septuagint translation was made in the 3rd century B.C.

“Aquae Sanctae Terrae”: The Spiritual Signification of the Waters of the Holy Land (Conclusion)

“Aquae Sanctae Terrae”: The Spiritual Signification of the Waters of the Holy Land

A Seminarian from the Midwest

Conclusion: The Devil and the Dead Sea

(Part 1 may be read here, Part 2 here.)

Aerial view of Dead Sea shore (source)

The Dead Sea

Now there is only one more lake in the Holy Land to discuss — the Dead Sea. Its name betrays where it represents on the spiritual map. The Dead Sea represents Hell. The geographic features alone make a strong case for this theory. The Dead Sea, at -1,411 feet below sea level, is the lowest place on earth. Scripture is filled with allusions to Hell being a place where the damned will go down to. The region around the sea can also be odorous due to the high sulfur concentration. The Dead Sea is about nine times saltier than the ocean, and is unable to support any life.[46] The average summer temperatures around the lake are about 105 F, but at times have been recorded over 120 F.

The Dead Sea is also an endorheic lake, which means it has no outlet. This accounts for its high salinity. Whatever minerals the Jordan pumps into it will never leave unless they are physically extracted, which means the lake will only get saltier over time. It is also worth noting that the only entrance into the Dead Sea is from the north, or the top of the lake. This is fitting, because the only way to get to Hell is to go down to it from earth. Lake Hula and the Sea of Galilee, on the other hand, are exorheic lakes, which means they have both an entrance and an exit point. This mirrors how there are entrances at each end of earth and Purgatory. For earth, you can either go up to Purgatory or Heaven, or down to Hell. For Purgatory, there is an entrance coming from earth and an entrance going up to Heaven. Heaven only has a door at the bottom, which Saint Peter faithfully guards, for those coming up from earth or Purgatory.

The Dead Sea also features negatively in the scriptures. In Deuteronomy, the Dead Sea is referred to as the Salt Sea or the Sea of the Arabah, which means Sea of the Desert or Wasteland in Hebrew.[47] Scholars debate the exact locations of Sodom and Gomorrha, but there is a general consensus they were located somewhere on the shores of the Dead Sea. These cities are synonymous for immorality and are fitting symbols for Hell. We also read that God destroys Sodom and Gomorrha with fire and brimstone (which is the same thing as sulfur).[48] Lot’s wife is also turned into a pillar of salt.[49] The Dead Sea and the surrounding region abounds with these two hellish symbols — salt and sulfur. The wicked city Jericho is only seven miles from the Dead Sea.

Debris beside the Dead Sea (source)

Jerusalem is also only about fifteen miles from the Dead Sea which is striking. One may ask why the holy city of Jerusalem is so close to a place that represents Hell? The answer can once again be found in the topography/geography of the landscape. Although relatively close to the Dead Sea and Jericho, Jerusalem towers nearly 4,000 feet above the Dead Sea and sits about 3,200 feet higher than Jericho. Jerusalem is not part of Hell, but is almost its gate. This is fitting because Jerusalem is where Christ triumphed over Satan and Hell.

Through His passion and death, Christ tore down the gates of Hell and harrowed it. Jerusalem and the gates of Hell serve as a counterpoint to Caeserea Philippi and the gates of Heaven. This image of gates is referenced in Matthew’s gospel, “And I say to thee: Thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”[50] The gates of Hell shall not prevail against the Church because Christ has vanquished them through His passion and death just outside Jerusalem.

The devil’s hatred for water

The final point to note is the Devil’s hatred for water. Although this theory is more speculative, there is evidence to support it. The storm on the Sea of Galilee can be viewed as a challenge from the Devil. He uses water to try to frighten Christ and the Apostles. The Devil is threatened because Christ is on His way to exorcise the Gerasene demoniac (Mark 5). Our Lord is encroaching on what the Devil thinks is his territory. The water in the symbolic Hell (the Dead Sea) is so polluted with salt, it is useless and cannot support life. Moreover, the Dead Sea itself is shrinking at a steady pace.

The real Hell is likely going to be a place without any water. We can deduce this from the story of the rich man in Saint Luke’s gospel. The rich man, languishing in Hell, begs for a single drop of water, “And he cried, and said: Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, to cool my tongue: for I am tormented in this flame.”[51] The Devil hates God and God’s creation and is constantly seeking to destroy it. His favorite way to do this is by stealing souls away from Heaven.

The waters of baptism are a painful reminder to him of souls who are escaping from his grasp and of God’s supreme power. Through baptism, God stamps an indelible mark on a man’s soul. The Devil does all he can to sully this mark, but he cannot erase it. Christ’s side during the passion also sprayed water alongside blood. Saint Thomas says this is appropriate because it signifies the purifying effect of the passion.[52] Water is also used at every Mass which is yet one more small reminder to Satan of his defeat at Calvary.

God is eternal wisdom; nothing He does is arbitrary. The geography of the Holy Land is no exception. Although the historical events that occurred in this region tell us it is important, the land and water themselves tell a story through their physical structure. The physical features of the Holy Land were designed in such a way that they would reflect spiritual places and realities:

• The beautiful region around the Jordan’s headwaters with its fresh mountain air signifies Heaven.
• The malarial swamp of Lake Hula and the scorched land around it, cleared of infidels, represents Purgatory as a place of penance and purgation.
• The sometimes tranquil and sometimes turbulent waters of the Sea of Galilee reflect the many ups and downs we experience in our earthly lives. Christ’s abiding presence, however, always pervades the stormy world. Our Lord is always ready to extend a hand to save us or calm the storm when we call on Him.
• The Jordan River, flowing from its heavenly heights, sanctified by Christ Himself, is a symbol of baptism and the grace which flows down to us on earth. It is a life-giving highway connecting Heaven with earth. It also washes the filth of our sins down to the dregs of Hell.
• Finally, the lifeless Dead Sea, sitting at the lowest place on earth, represents Hell in all its hot and sulfurous misery.

The Jordan and its watershed, therefore, are more than just a sliver of Palestine; they also signify the whole physical and spiritual world.

NOTES

[46] Learning Lesson: A Funny Taste — National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, www.noaa.gov/jetstream/ocean/ll-taste.

[47] Deuteronomy 3:17

[48] Genesis 19:24

[49] Genesis 19:26

[50] Matthew 16:18

[51] Luke 16:24

[52] Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, III, q. 76, a. 6, corpus, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province, (New York, NY: Benziger Brothers, Inc., 1947), 2443.

The Ancient Character of Pentecost in the Roman Rite (Part 1)

In this article, I propose to examine the ancient character of the feast of Pentecost in the Roman Rite: first, its role as a baptismal feast; second, the development of its octave; and third, its relationship to the Ember days. (This last section will be published separately as a second part.) In addition to the ancient liturgical sources, my guide in this consideration will be St Leo the Great, who was Pope from 440-61, and whose writings are one of the first and most important witnesses to the Roman liturgical tradition. Foremost among these are his three surviving sermons on Pentecost, and four on the following Ember days, but we begin with one of his letters.

A statue of St Leo on the façade of the cathedral of Florence. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, CC BY 3.0)

Pentecost as a Baptismal Feast

At the end of the fourth century, Pope St Siricius (384-399) wrote in a letter to Himerius, bishop of Tarragon, that the sacrament of baptism was to be celebrated on Pentecost as on Easter. (Epist. ad Himerium, cap. 2: PL XIII, 1131B-1148A) Pope Leo reasserted that this was the Church’s practice in a letter to the bishops of Sicily, exhorting them to follow the example of the Apostle Peter, who baptized three-thousand persons on Pentecost day. (Epist. XVI ad universos episcopos per Siciliam constitutos: PL LIV, 695B-704A)

As we would expect, therefore, all pertinent liturgical books of the Roman Rite, as far back as we have them, reflect this tradition. The very oldest collection of Roman liturgical texts, the so-called Leonine Sacramentary, ca. 550 A.D., contains a Mass “on Pentecost, for those coming up from the font.” The first part of its preface is almost identical to that of the Holy Spirit in the Missal of St Pius V, which is used from the vigil to the following Ember Saturday. (The variants of the Roman Missal are in parentheses.)

VD: Qui ascendit (-ens) super omnes cælos sedensque ad déxteram tuam, promissum Spíritum Sanctum (hodierna die) in filios adoptiónis effúdit.

It is truly meet and just… Who ascended (-ing) above all in the heavens, and sitting at Thy right hand, (this day) poured out the promised Holy Spirit upon the children of adoption.

Likewise, the variable Hanc igitur, which is also traditionally said on Easter, is very similar to the Pius V version. (In keeping with the erratic character of the Leonine Sacramentary, this is placed before a variable Communicantes, which differs from the traditional one.)

Hanc ígitur oblatiónem, quam tibi offérimus pro his quos ex aqua et Spíritu Sancto regeneráre dignátus es, tríbuens eis remissiónem omnium peccatórum, quæsumus, placátus accipias, eorumque nómina ascríbi júbeas in libro viventium. Per.

We therefore ask, o Lord, may Thou graciously accept this oblation, which we make unto Thee for these whom Thou hast vouchsafed to bring to a new birth from water and the Holy Spirit, granting them remission of all their sins: and may Thou command that their names be entered into the book of life.

The oldest actual sacramentaries contain prayers for the vigil of Pentecost to go with the readings of prophecies repeated from the Easter vigil, and even more explicitly baptismal prayers and prefaces for the Masses. This tradition continues uninterrupted into the Missal of St Pius V; it was, inexplicably, mostly abolished by the Holy Week reform of 1955. (This is one of the many aspects of this reform which thoroughly belies its claim to be any kind of “restoration.”) I say “mostly” because although the parts of the ritual borrowed from the Easter vigil are suppressed, the Hanc igitur continues to be said, nonsensically; the post-Conciliar rite removed even this.

The interior of the Lateran Baptistery

The Octave

In his first sermon “on the fast of Pentecost”, Pope Leo says that it was observed “after the days of holy rejoicing, which we have passed unto the honor of the Lord who rose from the dead, and then ascended into heaven, and after receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit.” (chapter 3) And likewise, in the third sermon, “the current season invites us to recur to the remedies of fasting, after passing fifty days from the Lord’s resurrection to the coming of the Holy Spirit…” (chapter 3) Nothing in any of the sermons indicates that this fast was regarded as part of the feast. Scholars therefore agree that there was no octave of Pentecost in his time, an example of a fairly solid argument from silence, even though it was clearly not Leo’s purpose to give any kind of systematic explanation of the liturgical year.

It is also true that roughly a century later, there is no mention of the octave in the “sacramentary” named after him, but here, the argument from silence is perhaps rather less solid. This manuscript, of which there survives only one copy (very possibly the only one ever made), was not actually a sacramentary at all, which is to say, a book which contains the priest’s parts of the Mass, the Canon, and the variable prayers and prefaces of individual Masses.

Before the creation of such books, the variable prayers and prefaces of the Mass were written down in booklets called “libelli Missarum”, which might well vary from one church to another even within the same city. The manuscript in question is a privately made and highly irregular collection of these libelli, generally dated on internal evidence to the mid-6th century. The collection was certainly made in Rome itself, since it contains numerous specific references to the city. Its traditional name “Leonine”, in reference to Pope St Leo I, is no more than a fancy of its discoverer, Fr Giuseppe Bianchini (1704-64), a canon of Verona who found it in the library of the cathedral chapter.

The capitular library of Verona Cathedral. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Marco Almbauer, CC BY-SA 4.0) 

This is what accounts for its rather haphazard arrangement, the irregularity of its contents (five Masses of St John the Baptist, but twenty-eight for Ss Peter and Paul), its many mistakes, several incomplete Masses, and the inclusion of the worst preface ever written. (One of its strangest mistakes is the placement of nine Masses of St Stephen the First Martyr on August 2nd, the feast of Pope St Stephen I, even though the former was certainly celebrated on December 26th long before the collection was made.)

It is therefore too much to say that because the octave is not mentioned in it, it cannot have existed in any form when the collection was made. Pope Leo says very clearly that the Ember fasts were kept on the Wednesday, Friday and Saturday after Pentecost, but the “Leonine” manuscript has only two Masses for them, one placed before Pentecost, and the other after, so it is certainly not a definitive or wholly reliable witness.

The Mass of the octave of Pentecost in the Gellone Sacramentary, ca. 780 AD. It begins with the second rubric on the left hand side; the preface of the Holy Trinity is introduced by the large VD glyph towards the bottom. 

The oldest actual sacramentary, the Old Gelasian, dated ca. 700, does not have special Masses for the days within the octave of Pentecost. However, it does have, right after the Mass of Pentecost Sunday, six prayers for Vespers “within the octave of Pentecost”, followed by the Ember Day Masses, and then the Mass “on Sunday of the octave of Pentecost.” The preface of this last is that which we say on the feast of the Holy Trinity, the following Sundays until Christmas, and between Epiphany and Lent. This also reflects the work of St Leo, who expounds the doctrine of the Trinity at length in his Pentecost sermons; all of the preface’s keywords (Trinitas, substantia, essentia etc.) appear in these sermons quite frequently.

Likewise, readings for the days within the octave appear in the earliest lectionaries, and the chants in the oldest antiphonaries. The Thursday within the octave of Pentecost was originally an “aliturgical” day like the Thursdays in Lent, on which no Mass was said. By the time this custom was changed in the early 8th century, the corpus of Mass chants was regarded as a closed canon, which is why the Thursdays of Lent borrow almost all their chants from other Masses, and that of Pentecost simply repeats the Mass of Sunday.

The post-Conciliar rite purported to restore the earliest custom of the Church by abolishing the octave, and making one undifferentiated fifty-day long feast of the whole period between Easter and Pentecost. (This in itself is, unsurprisingly, a misrepresentation of the custom of the early Church.) This claim is belied by the fact that it also abolished the Ember days, which are consistently attested in the same ancient sources that attest to the “fifty days of Easter.”

Sitientes Saturday, The Last Day of Lent

In the liturgical books of the traditional Roman Rite, today is the last day of “Quadragesima”, the Latin word for Lent; since the mid-ninth century, tomorrow has been called “Dominica de Passione”, usually translated in English as “Passion Sunday.” The last two weeks of the season are collectively known as “Tempus Passionis – Passiontide”; the custom of joining them as a liturgical period distinct from the rest of Lent is unique to the Roman Rite. However, the specific liturgical character of this period is older than its formal nomenclature, and the traditional Mass for today marks the transition in several ways.

The Introit, Isaiah 55, 1, is a rare example of one taken from a prophetic book, rather than the Psalms; the text is slightly different from that of the Vulgate. “Sitientes, veníte ad aquas, dicit Dóminus: et qui non habétis pretium, veníte et bíbite cum laetitia. – Ye that thirst, come to the waters, saith the Lord; and ye that have not the price, come and drink with rejoicing.” On the Easter vigil, these words are read as part of the fifth prophecy, Isaiah 54, 17, and 55, 1-11, in reference to the waters of baptism. At the beginning of Lent, on Tuesday of the first week, a shorter version of the same passage is read, starting at verse 6, “Seek ye the Lord, while He may be found; call upon Him, while He is near.” The fuller reading indicates that those who began to seek the Lord by enrolling themselves in the catechumenate, having completed their initiation into the Faith over the course of Lent, will indeed find Him when they come to the waters.

The Epistle is taken from a different chapter of Isaiah, 49, 8-15, and is deliberately chosen to mark the closure of the first part of Lent. On the First Sunday of Lent, the Epistle, 2 Corinthians 6, 1-10, begins with a citation of this passage: “We exhort you, that you receive not the grace of God in vain; for he saith, ‘In an accepted time have I heard thee; and in the day of salvation have I helped thee.’ (Isaiah 49, 8) Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” Before Ash Wednesday was instituted in the 7th century, this passage of St Paul was the very first Scriptural reading of Lent. These two readings form the bookends of the first four weeks, which emphasize catechumenal lessons and the discipline of fasting, before the shift in tone towards meditation on the Lord’s Passion that marks the last two weeks much more notably.

Today, the passage from Isaiah continues: “I have preserved thee, and given thee to be a covenant of the people, that thou might raise up the earth, and possess the inheritances that were destroyed: that thou might say to them that are bound, ‘Come forth!’, and to them that are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves. … For he that is merciful to them, shall be their shepherd, and at the fountains of waters he shall give them drink.” The “inheritances that were destroyed” are the various nations of men, lost in the darkness of sin. Three days earlier, the catechumens heard the story of the man born blind (John 9, 1-38), whom the Church Fathers understood to represent the condition of Man before the coming of Christ. As St Augustine writes “… the whole world is blind. Therefore Christ came to illuminate, since the devil had blinded us. He who deceived the first man caused all men to be born blind.” (Sermon 135 against the Arians) In baptism, at “the fountains of waters”, Christ calls them out of darkness, as He did the man born blind.

Christ Healing the Blind Man, from the church of Sant’Angelo in Formis, Capua, Italy, ca. 1080.

The words that follow, “Behold these shall come from afar, and behold these from the north and from the sea, and these from the south country,” (verse 12) would certainly have been read in Rome, “the head of the world”, as a reference to the many nations of the Empire present in its capital. From the very beginning, the Church had always been concerned to assert that Christ came to the Jewish people, to whom the promises of mankind’s redemption were made, but came as the Savior and Redeemer of all nations.

The Gradual is taken from Psalm 9: “To thee, o Lord, is the poor man left: thou wilt be a helper to the orphan. V. Why, O Lord, hast thou retired afar off? why dost thou slight us in our wants, in the time of trouble? While the wicked man is proud, the poor is set on fire.” This text refers to the original Roman station of this day, which was kept at the church of St Lawrence Outside-the-Walls, where the great martyr is buried. He was very famously one of the deacons to whom the care of the poor was left in the Lord’s name; the words “the poor man is set on fire” refer to the manner of his martyrdom, which took place after he had given away all of the Church’s charitable funds.

The Martyrdom of Saint Lawrence, by Titian, 1567; from the Spanish Royal Monastery of the Escorial.

The station was later transferred to the church of St Nicolas ‘in Carcere’, i.e., in the prison, where, according to a late and unreliable tradition, the Saint was imprisoned by the Emperor Constantius for refusing to accept the Arian heresy. The Bl. Ildephonse Schuster posits in his book The Sacramentary that this change was made in part because the procession to the former station had become inconvenient “in the showery weather of March.” This seems to me a very improbable explanation, since the two stations are almost exactly the same distance from the medieval residence of the Popes at St John in the Lateran, and the weather cannot have been radically different on one route as opposed to the other.

On the preceding Thursday, the station is held at the church jointly dedicated to Ss Silvester and Martin, who were among the first Confessors to be venerated as Saints, and certainly the most popular. On Friday, it is held at the church of St Eusebius, a Roman priest who was also a Confessor, but in the original sense of the term, one who suffered for the Faith, but was not violently put to death. With the addition of this new station, the season of Quadragesima closes with a celebration of the newer Saints, those who came after the age of the Apostles and Martyrs.

The Gospel of the day, John 8, 12-20, begins with another reference to the upcoming ceremonies of baptism, referring back to the words of the Epistle about calling the nations out of darkness. “I am the light of the world: he that followeth Me, walketh not in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” But it is the closing words which shift the liturgy’s thought forward to the Lord’s Passion. “These words Jesus spoke in the treasury, teaching in the temple: and no man laid hands on Him, because His hour was not yet come.” Very shortly, however, when hands are laid on Him to bring Him to trial, He will say, “When I was daily with you in the temple, you did not stretch forth your hands against Me; but this is your hour, and the power of darkness.” The Gospels read after this day, in Passion week and Holy Week, will all speak far more clearly than those of the first four weeks about Christ’s impending arrest, trial, condemnation and passion, and frequently in reference to the temple. “They took up stones therefore to cast at him. But Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple.” (Passion Sunday, John 8, 59) “then He also went up to the feast, not openly, but, as it were, in secret. … And there was much murmuring among the multitude concerning Him, for some said, ‘He is a good man,’ and others said, ‘No, but he seduceth the people.’ ” (John 7, 10 and 12, Passion Tuesday)

The Communion antiphon forms part of a series which begins on Ash Wednesday with Psalm 1, and continues through the Psalms in numerical order until the Friday of Passion week. (The series is interrupted several times for various reasons, and does not include Holy Week.) On this day, it is the beginning of Psalm 22, “The Lord ruleth me: and I shall want nothing. He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment.” “Pasture” refers back once again to the Epistle from Isaiah 49, specifically the verses “They shall feed in the ways, and their pastures shall be in every plain.”, while the final words speak yet again of Baptism.

The Mass of Pentecost Monday

From the most ancient times, Pentecost has been celebrated in the Roman Rite as one of the Church’s great baptismal feasts, and it therefore shares some important characteristics with Easter, the baptismal feast par excellence. One very notable point on which they differ, however, is the relationship between the texts of the Mass and the station churches at which they are celebrated. The stations of the Easter octave are arranged according to the hierarchical order of their dedication: first, the vigil at the cathedral of Rome, which is titled to the Lord, then St Mary Major on Easter Sunday, followed by the tombs of the city’s three Patron Saints, Peter, Paul and Lawrence, and then the basilicas of the Twelve Apostles and of all the martyrs. With the exception of Easter itself, the Masses of the octave contain many references and allusions to those Saints. During Pentecost week, on the other hand, the station churches are arranged in deliberate imitation of those of the first week of Lent, since both weeks include the celebration of the Ember days. The Masses celebrated at them contain almost no references to their station churches, with one notable exception, that of Pentecost Monday, when the station is kept at the church of St Peter in Chains.

The Introit, which begins with the words “He fed them with the finest of the wheat”, might seem more appropriate for Ember Wednesday, when the Gospel, John 6, 44-52, is taken from the passage known as the Bread of Life discourse. And indeed, St Thomas Aquinas would later borrow this same introit for the Mass of Corpus Christi. In this case, however, the second part of it, “and filled them with honey out of the rock,” is a reference to the very ancient tradition that when St Peter was jailed in the Mamertine prison in Rome, held with the very chains that the church was built to house and honor, he converted his jailers, Ss Processus and Martinian. For lack of any water with which to baptize them, Peter, like Moses before him, knocked on the solid rock of the prison walls, making water flow from them. This also refers to the baptismal character of Pentecost, since those who had been newly baptized on the vigil the previous Saturday would then, of course, also have partaken of the Bread of Life for the first time.

An ancient Christian sarcophagus known as the Sarcophagus of the Two Brothers, made in the second quarter of the 4th century, now in the Vatican Museums. The episode of St Peter making water run from the rock is at far left of the lower register.

The Collect of this Mass is the only prayer within the week that refers to the Apostles. “O God, Who gave the Holy Spirit to Thy Apostles, grant to Thy people the (desired) effect of their devout prayer; that Thou may bestow also peace upon those to whom Thou hast given faith.”

On Easter Monday, when the station is at the church of St Peter in the Vatican, the Epistle, Acts 10, 37-43, is taken from the Apostle’s discourse in the house of Simon the tanner, and refers to both baptism and the Resurrection.

“You know the word which hath been published through all Judea: for it began from Galilee, after the baptism which John preached, Jesus of Nazareth: how God anointed him with the Holy Ghost, and with power, who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. And we are witnesses of all things that he did in the land of the Jews and in Jerusalem, whom they killed, hanging him upon a tree. Him God raised up the third day, and gave him to be made manifest, not to all the people, but to witnesses preordained by God, even to us, who did eat and drink with him after he arose again from the dead; And he * commanded us to preach to the people, and to testify that it is he who was appointed by God, to be judge of the living and of the dead. To him all the prophets give testimony, that by his name all receive remission of sins, who believe in him.”

On Pentecost Monday, the Epistle repeats the last two verses from Easter Monday (beginning at the star noted above), then continues to verse 48, with the descent of the Holy Spirit upon all those who hear Peter speaking, and their subsequent baptism.

“While Peter was yet speaking these words, the Holy Ghost fell on all them that heard the word. And the faithful of the circumcision, who came with Peter, were astonished, for that the grace of the Holy Ghost was poured out upon the gentiles also. For they heard them speaking with tongues, and magnifying God. Then Peter answered, ‘Can any man forbid water, that these should not be baptized, who have received the Holy Ghost, as well as we?’ And he commanded them to be baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The Baptism of the Centurion Cornelius, 1658 by Michel Corneille l’Ancien (1601-64); Museum of the Hermitage, St Petersburg.

The reference to “the gentiles” in a Roman station church reminds us that Ss Peter and Paul both came to Rome as the ideal place from which to preach of the Christian faith to people from every corner of the world.

The first Alleluja verse paraphrases the end of the Epistle of Pentecost Sunday, in words which also appear repeatedly in the Divine Office: “In varied tongues the Apostles were speaking the wondrous deeds of God.” The second Alleluja and the Sequence that follow are sung at every Mass of the octave.

(A particularly good motet of the words “Loquebantur variis linguis” by Thomas Tallis.)

The Gospel, John 3, 16-21, clarifies the words of St Peter in the Epistle that speak of Christ as the one “appointed by God to be judge of the living and of the dead.”

“For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting. For God sent not his Son into the world, to judge the world, but that the world may be saved by him. He that believeth in him is not judged. But he that doth not believe, is already judged: because he believeth not in the name of the only begotten Son of God. And this is the judgment: because the light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than the light: for their works were evil. For every one that doth evil hateth the light, and cometh not to the light, that his works may not be reproved. But he that doth truth, cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest, because they are done in God.”

The Offertory is repeated from Easter Tuesday: “Intónuit de caelo Dóminus, et Altíssimus dedit vocem suam, et apparuérunt fontes aquárum, allelúja. – The Lord thundered from heaven, the Most High gave forth His voice, and the fountains of waters appeared, alleluja.” (Psalm 17, 14 and 16)

This was clearly chosen in reference to the story of St Peter making water run from the rock noted above, but also perhaps because the station on Easter Tuesday is kept at the basilica of St Paul Outside-the-Walls, which houses the tomb of the Roman church’s other Apostolic founder. Just as the two Apostles share a feast day, and almost always appear together in early Christian and medieval art, likewise, the church of St Peter in Chains was originally dedicated also to St Paul.

A modern copy of a dedicatory inscription placed in the basilica of St Peter in Chains by Pope St Sixtus III (432-40), who says that he adorns the church with the names of Peter and Paul together (“Petri Paulique simul ... nomine signo”), and asks them both to receive it from him as a gift (“pares unum duo sumite munus.”) - Image from Wikimedia Commons by Luciano Tronati, CC BY-SA 4.0.

An ancient commentary on the Psalms, attributed with uncertainty to Rufinus of Aquileia, says that the “fountains of water are the gifts of the Holy Spirit.” (Commentarius in LXXV Psalmos; Ps. XVII, 16; PL XXI, col. 705D). Another commentary on the Psalms, uncertainly attributed to Rufinus’ friend and correspondent St Jerome (with whom he later had a very sharp and long-running theological dispute), says that “the fountains” are the Apostles themselves. “The fountains are the Apostles, as if (to say that) they were given to drink from the one fountain… which is Christ… as it says in the Gospel, ‘He that shall drink the water which I shall give him will not thirst forever.’ (John 4, 14) And in another sense, the fountains of water are those who through the sacrament of baptism have become a fountain of the living water springing up for sinners unto eternal life.” (Breviarium in Psalmos, Ps. XVII; PL XXVI, col. 866D) Either interpretation makes this Psalm an appropriate choice in light of both the baptismal character of the feast and the celebration at this particular station.

Finally, the Communio is also taken from the Gospel of Pentecost, words addressed by Christ to the Apostles. “The Holy Spirit will teach you, alleluja, all things whatsoever I shall say to you, alleluja, alleluja.” The plural “you” is perhaps also reminiscent of the church’s ancient dedication to both Peter and Paul.