Wednesday, March 26, 2025

Do Priests or Religious Need Special Permission to Pray a Pre-55 Breviary?

On occasion, I receive an email like the following (in this case, from a seminarian): “Do you happen to know of any sources/authoritative references which you could point me to that explain why praying the Pre-55 Breviary definitely satisfies the canonical obligation for clerics or religious? As I am strongly desirous of the Pre-55 Liturgy, I wanted to check all my p’s and q’s.” (The same question could be asked, mutatis mutandis, about taking up a pre-Pius X breviary as well.)

My Initial View

In the past, my standard line has been: There is no official statement that you can do this. If one can do it, it is because “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. It behooves all of us to preserve the riches which have developed in the Church’s faith and prayer, and to give them their proper place.” It can be done because it is the Church’s venerable and immemorial lex orandi. If you are confident that this is true, then you have sufficient certainty that by fulfilling the obligation as it was fulfilled by countless saints before you, you too are fulfilling it today, in a way that is supererogatory inasmuch as it goes above and beyond the minimum that is required by current law.

However, I thought it best to solicit a variety of opinions from experts. I will now share their responses. As you’ll see, opinions differ, but a certain majority consensus emerges.


Expert Opinion #1 (a secular priest from an Ecclesia Dei institute)

“I am a bit more cautious when it comes to using an older version of the Office than an older version of the Missal, because I see a distinction between, on the one hand, something being the public prayer of the Church and, on the other, something fulfilling a positive obligation imposed by the Church through the power of the keys.

“I would say that if one were to pray the Office using an older version, it would still be the public prayer of the Church. But because the obligation to recite the Divine Office and its binding under the pain of mortal sin is something produced by positive ecclesiastical law, if the requirements as set forth by the law are not fulfilled, then the penalty is incurred. This is different from the Missal as there is, in general, no obligation under penalty to celebrate Mass—an exception being if it is required for the faithful to fulfill an obligation of attendance. For example, I would say that if Pius X had decided that secular clergy or clergy with pastoral responsibilities were bound to recite only Lauds and Vespers, they would fulfill their obligation and avoid sin by doing so, while if they went beyond this, it would still be part of the public prayer of the Church.

“Touching on this topic, ‘Art. 9 §3 of the Motu Proprio Summorum Pontificum gives clerics the faculty to use the Breviarium Romanum in effect in 1962, which is to be prayed entirely and in the Latin language’ (Universae ecclesiae, 32). This expresses that the obligation can be fulfilled using the ’62 Breviary. This does not really answer the question definitively, but it might help shape the direction the discussion might go and the points which need to be considered in answer the question.”

Expert Opinion #2 (a Benedictine monk)

“Would the praying of the pre-55 Breviary constitute a mortal sin if ecclesiastical discipline established that one must pray the 1962 Breviary? Frankly, I think this is the sort of positivist nonsense that got us into trouble in the first place.

“The promise at ordination is to pray the Divine Office. Period. The Paul VI Liturgy of the Hours is so edited and short that I do not know how someone could possibly incur sin by saying the John XXIII breviary instead, as it is much longer and more demanding. (Imaginary confession: ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have prayed 150 psalms in the Office this week rather than 62.25!’) So too, the older versions are still more demanding. (‘Bless me, Father, I have prayed the Octave of All Saints and enjoyed it! Can this really be a sin?’) Give me a break!

“In the early days of the Ecclesia Dei Commission, Cardinal Mayer was asked by a priest for permission to say the old breviary. His response was that no permission was needed because it is longer than the Breviary of Paul VI. Enough said. So too, the policy of positivism falls, for now Summorum Pontificum is abrogated. The Missal of 1962 is mandated by Summorum; yet it and all its predecessors are forbidden by Traditionis Custodes. Et cetera. Are we supposed to change our liturgical and devotional life with each new pontificate? Come on!

“If a seminarian wishes to pray more, let us thank God and concern ourselves with those who don’t pray the breviary at all.”


My response to the monk:

I am in full agreement. Thank you for your rant. Really, we should say this: The obligation of the cleric or religious is to honor God by praying the Divine Office, consisting of the psalms and other texts. As long as he is doing this in a manner “received and approved,” he is fulfilling that task.

However, it must be recognized that the stranglehold of legal positivism is very powerful, and St. Pius X mightily contributed to it with his over-the-top language when promulgating his own new breviary:

Therefore, by the authority of these letters, We first of all abolish the order of the Psaltery as it is at present in the Roman Breviary, and We absolutely forbid the use of it after the 1st day of January of the year 1913. From that day in all the churches of secular and regular clergy, in the monasteries, orders, congregations and institutes of religious, by all and several who by office or custom recite the Canonical Hours according to the Roman Breviary issued by St. Pius V and revised by Clement VIII, Urban VIII and Leo XIII, We order the religious observance of the new arrangement of the Psaltery in the form in which We have approved it and decreed its publication by the Vatican Printing Press. At the same time, We proclaim the penalties prescribed in law against all who fail in their office of reciting the Canonical Hours every day; all such are to know that they will not be satisfying this grave duty unless they use this Our disposition of the Psaltery.
          We command, therefore, all the Patriarchs, Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots and other Prelates of the Church, not excepting even the Cardinal Archpriests of the Patriarchal Basilicas of the City, to take care to introduce at the appointed time into their respective dioceses, churches or monasteries, the Psaltery with the Rules and Rubrics as arranged by Us; and the Psaltery and these Rules and Rubrics We order to be also inviolately used and observed by all others who are under the obligation of reciting or chanting the Canonical Hours. In the meanwhile, it shall be lawful for everybody and for the chapters themselves, provided the majority of the chapter be in favor, to use duly the new order of the Psaltery immediately after its publication.
          This We publish, declare, sanction, decreeing that these Our letters always are and shall be valid and effective, notwithstanding apostolic constitutions and ordinances, general and special, and everything else whatsoever to the contrary. Wherefore, let nobody infringe or temerariously oppose this page of Our abolition, revocation, permission, ordinance, precept, statue, indult, mandate and will. But if anybody shall presume to attempt this, let him know that he will incur the indignation of Almighty God, and of His Apostles, Sts Peter and Paul.
          Given at Rome at St. Peter’s in the year of the Incarnation of the Lord 1911, on November 1st, the Feast of All Saints, in the ninth year of Our Pontificate. 

So, it seems to me, there must be a theological rationale for maintaining that something like this decree is null and void from the get-go. Not that Pius X’s breviary is thereby invalidated or rendered illegal, but his attempt to prohibit all contrary customs no matter how venerable seems like it would have to be null and void, if we take serious the concept of tradition and do not think it is totally subject to the will of the reigning pontiff (cf. Benedict XVI’s comments about the limits of the pope’s authority: “The Pope is not an absolute monarch whose thoughts and desires are law.... The Pope knows that in his important decisions, he is bound to the great community of faith of all times...,” etc.). If Benedict XVI is right, then the “sacred and great” principle takes precedence over attempts to thwart it.

One may sympathize with the hesitation of clergy or religious to take the line: “I am expressly disobeying the dictate of Pope N. in doing what I’m doing, because it rests on deeper and better principles than his.” One would, at very least, need moral certainty that one had properly understood the nature of the obligation owed to tradition in contrast with that owed to papal legislation. I am reminded here of an exchange at the trial of St. Thomas More: “What, More, you wish to be considered wiser and of better conscience than all the bishops and nobles of the realm?” To which More replied, “My lord, for one bishop of your opinion I have a hundred saints of mine; and for one parliament of yours, and God knows of what kind, I have all the General Councils for 1,000 years, and for one kingdom I have France and all the kingdoms of Christendom.”

The monk’s reply:

“Yes, moral certainty is what one needs. But that comes easily enough when positive law twists and turns back on itself every few years. Pius X was a little over-the-top on authority, perhaps understandably so. Today, when authority changes the teaching of the Church on the definitive revelation of God in Christ, on marriage, on Holy Communion, on the death penalty, on the “blessability” of same-sex unions, etc., it is hard to say that using a fuller, older breviary can be considered grave matter, let alone mortal sin. Trads often lack ecclesial, historical and theological perspective, alas. Following rules—even stupid ones—is often easier than thinking.”


Expert Opinion #3 (diocesan priest and canon lawyer)

“At first glance, it would seem that the command to pray the office must be fulfilled by the use of an edition that has been promulgated and proposed for its fulfilment. From this perspective, only the Paul VI office or the John XXIII office would fulfil the obligation, especially from the vantage of ‘public prayer of the Church,’ i.e., not something done out of personal devotion.[i]

“However, while it is true that the legislation (in Summorum Pontificum Art. 9 n. 3) only specifically mentions the 1962, I still think there is room for the pre-conciliar breviary. Two aspects argue in favor of this: antinomy and lacuna legis.

“Some would argue that this matter falls into an issue of antinomy—two laws or norms belonging to the same juridical ordering, which take place in the same space and attribute incompatible legal consequences to a certain factual situation, which prevents their simultaneous application; in other words, a factual situation with two or more legal consequences that are incompatible because of two rules. So, one might look for a ‘legislative silence’ that would speak in favor of the freedom to use an older breviary. Silence is of far greater canonical value than most people realize.

“Moreover, a failure to specifically proscribe the recitation of the pre-55 breviary would lend support to its use based on the well-established canonical practice of respecting custom; indeed, the elucidation of this issue should be based on analogous situations, e.g., what happens with the missal. Even in this iconoclastic period we are living in, the Church has allowed the use of pre-’62 ceremonies, and even though there is no obligation to celebrate Holy Mass, nevertheless, one could say that the (at times) explicit and (at other times) implicit approval of pre-’62 ceremonies suggests that the breviary could also fall into this approval, even with silence on the subject.

“I would also argue that odious and dishonest things are not to be presumed in law, and since the prayer of an older, at one time normative breviary is certainly not odious, and the use of it in no way bespeaks a desire to contravene the mens legislatoris, one could in good conscience pray the pre-55 breviary.

“Furthermore, I would add that in the modern legislation for the preconciliar liturgy—Summorum Pontificum, Traditionis Custodes, etc.—there is no explicit prohibition of the use of the earlier breviaries, and one could argue that this falls into the well-established legal principle of ‘odiosa sunt restringenda, favores sunt amplianda’: odious laws—in other words, those that restrict a right or freedom—must be interpreted strictly, in favor of those who are subject to them; while favorable laws must be interpreted broadly.

“Finally, we should take into consideration the actual state of affairs in the mess of the postconciliar world. After Vatican II, monastic communities were allowed to experiment and make up their own divine office. You can find this out by visiting almost any community at random: they are all doing different things. There is a principle in the Church: ‘office for office.’ I was visiting an abbey in another country and I noticed that their monastic office was different. I wondered aloud to the prior if praying it would suffice to fulfill my obligation, and he said: ‘office for office,’ meaning, I could substitute the office prayed in common in the abbey for the office I would have prayed from the breviary (so, their morning prayer for my morning prayer, etc.). I do not know how far this notion of ‘office for office’ could be taken, but it seems to suggest that the Church regards it as sufficient if a priest or religious offers the daily round of prayers and praises in any accepted (or even tolerated) form.”


Expert Opinion #4 (another Benedictine)

“I was not convinced by the Benedictine’s first opinion. When he calls the priest’s opinion ‘legal positivism,’ is he denying that this is a matter of positive law? Or is he saying that even though it is a matter of positive law, it should be obvious that this particular law (requiring the Pius X office or the ’62 office) is beyond the authority of the legislator?

As far as I can see, the only real argument he gives (in his first response) is that the old office is much longer than that of Paul VI. To me, this is not convincing. If I am bound by a lawful superior to go to Texas, I don’t fulfill my duty by going to China on the grounds that it is a harder trip. The comparison is not simply ‘more’ in the sense that option 2 includes everything option 1 includes, plus some. That would be different. For the question is not, can a priest pray the whole Paul VI office and then pray the pre-’55 in addition, but rather, can he replace the one with the other? If the Church is a visible body with a visible head who has a real legislative authority, one must allow that positive laws can exist and should be obeyed, even when they are bad laws (I don’t mean sinful, but just mistaken or dumb, or otherwise flawed).

“The monk’s second reply (to your implied objection from Pius X) is more to the point. As far as I can see, the moral certainty that we can stick to the old stuff arises predominantly from the evidence that the new stuff is not simply ‘less,’ or that it does away with a 1,000-year-old tradition, but that it is really somehow against the faith. I don’t mean that the breviary itself of Paul VI contains heresies. Rather, I think one can look at the whole shebang since Vatican II, look at the current pontificate, and reasonably conclude that there is an evil and anti-Catholic trend which encompasses, more or less clearly, all the reforms in the past several decades. The result would be a strong doubt about the obligation to comply, and at least a reasonable guess that sticking to pre-reform prayer is safe, despite what the pope says.

“I don’t want to downplay the importance of tradition, but the fact stands that there is no clear teaching (as far as I know) about the limits of papal authority. For instance, we have no council that says ‘if anyone says a pope can change a tricentennial liturgical custom, let him be anathema.’ And, in fact, the texts we do have tend in the opposite direction.

“As far as I can see, there is no way to know with certainty that Pius X overstepped his authority and that his decree was null. And, as a side note, I am not convinced that this is a purely post-Vatican I problem either. Gregory VII tried aggressively to replace the Mozarabic liturgy with the Roman Liturgy, invoking his papal right to do so. At the same time, I think there is a good deal of evidence to reasonably conclude—notice, I do not say conclude with certainty—that the traditions prior to Vatican II can be safely used, based on the overwhelming evidence that the Church has tended in an anti-Catholic direction since that time.

“The diocesan canonist’s opinion is more convincing to me as well, but for different reasons. It acknowledges that this is a matter of positive law but seeks to answer the question within the framework of positive law. I am not qualified to assess the argument canonically but it seems reasonable. As the aforementioned moral argument is sufficient (in my mind at least), I don’t really bother with trying to find solutions within the letter of the law.”


My response to the last (and in general):

I think the logically possible approaches are well summarized in the expert opinions 1, 2, and 3.

Does a pope have authority to require a certain form of prayer? I think the question is ambiguous. If the form he requires represents a radical break with the form required for centuries and centuries, then we might have a problem on our hands—one that could result in a true crisis of conscience. This is where the fateful combination of legal positivism and ever-expanding ultramontanism presses comes in, for the question is rendered easy if you say the pope has absolute authority over everything liturgical (except for a highly distilled “form and matter” of sacraments), and that the only duty of the subordinate to obey his will (or his whims).

But since this is not the way the Church has behaved throughout her history—in fact, it is the opposite of the way she has behaved—and there are sound theological, anthropological, and moral reasons to think that this cannot be right, one may arrive at the position of the Benedictine monk who says it is absurd to believe that praying a traditional “received and approved” form of the liturgy could be wrong, or ruled out as sinful.

The Texas/China analogy fails because, in fact, we are talking about different forms or versions of the same thing, namely, the divine office by which the hours of the day are to be sanctified through the recitation of psalms and prayers. A form that is both more ancient and more extensive would satisfy a requirement that one must do something of the same kind that is more recent and more restricted. The only way it could be maintained that a later form must replace an earlier form is if there was something wrong with the earlier form.

Indeed, this is why, when Urban VIII changed all the breviary hymn language, the religious communities (Benedictines, Cistercians, Dominicans, some others too) simply begged off and said they were content with the language of the hymns as they existed in their own offices. The new language and the old could exist side-by-side. Nor did that pope, or any other, dare to force the matter. That’s because there once was respect for autonomy and diversity, as opposed to now, when everyone talks about these things but no one actually respects them.

The fact that there is no explicit statement that the pope cannot cancel out “received and approved rites” of venerable standing is because it would have seemed ridiculous to our forebears to think that he could. You might remember the episode at Vatican I:

Now before the final vote on Pastor Aeternus at Vatican I, several Council Fathers were concerned that they would be voting for a doctrine that would give the pope absolute and unqualified jurisdictional authority. Various (documented) discussions were given by members of the Deputation of the Faith assuring the Council Fathers that this was not a correct understanding of the doctrine. That is, they (the Relators of the Deputation) stated that the pope, in his jurisdictional authority, does not have absolute and unqualified jurisdictional authority. One Council Father, however, an American named Bishop Verot of Savannah, apparently was not convinced, and requested that specific qualifying statements (to the effect that the pope’s jurisdictional authority is qualified) be inserted into the texts of the schemas. He was told that the Council Fathers had not come to Rome “to hear buffooneries.” In other words, if this bishop had understood the theological context of the schema, he would not have put himself in such an embarrassing situation. (Brill, Great Sacred Music Reform, 47n25)
I rather regret that it seemed so obvious to the fathers of Vatican I, because I think the qualifying language that Bishop Verot wanted would have been exceedingly useful at present. Of course, when the German bishops got around to explaining Vatican I to Prussia, they did add a number of valuable clarifications, though again, their document suffers from vagueness (just what does “human arbitrariness” amount to? What does it look like? How do we know it when we see it?—assuredly, it seems that today we know it when we see it, because popes have gone so far off the deep end in this or that instance). I tried to bring some clarity to this topic in my lecture “The Pope’s Boundedness to Tradition as a Legislative Limit: Replying to Ultramontanist Apologetics.” Fr. Réginald-Marie Rivoire also discusses this point in his tract Does “Traditionis Custodes” Pass the Juridical Rationality Test? (to which the answer is, no).

Now, if it could be shown that anything demanded by a pope was contrary to the faith or to sound morals, that in itself would be a reason to say no to it and to stick with what was there before. This, evidently, is what we must do with something like Amoris Laetitia. But it seems also true to say that if something demanded by a pope is followed by a period of uninterrupted institutional chaos or decline, it becomes suspect by that very fact; or (perhaps this is to say the same thing) that in a period of institutional chaos or decline, it is legitimate to maintain the “status quo ante,” much as Lefebvre maintained that he realized he had to stick with the missal prior to the deformations of the 1960s that led to the Novus Ordo of 1969. (Sadly, neither he nor the Society has ever quite figured out that the changes in the 1950s were part of the same process of deformation, and therefore should have been rejected for exactly the same reason. It was the same people with the same principles who were behind both phases, before and after the Council.)

This is really all the light I have, and it may not be much. It seems to me that at this time in particular, when the postconciliar autodemolition of the Church is plain for all to see, there is no reason to doubt anymore that the liturgical revolution—which had its ill-starred conception in Pius X’s hyperpapalist revamp of the breviary, its ominous childhood in Pius XII’s rewriting of Holy Week, and its monstrous adulthood in the ruptures of Paul VI—is something that cannot be of God, cannot be truly “of the Church,” and cannot be for the good of souls.

Granted, each stage is worse than the one before, such that, as I argue in chapter 12 of Once and Future Roman Rite, there are fewer objections one can make to earlier stages and more to later ones, which also implies that adhering to the earlier is less problematic than adhering to the latter (e.g., praying the breviary of Pius X is not as bad as using the Holy Week of Pius XII, and using the Holy Week of Pius XII is not as bad as using the missal of Paul VI). But since there is a real continuity of principles, one is fully justified in taking the whole series as a single process, and saying, as a matter of coherent traditionalism: I will pray the breviary and the missal as they existed prior to this revolutionary process.

Benedictines are fortunate in this regard, as they have the unchanged cursus psalmorum of St. Benedict, nice editions of their choir books, and an altar missal from the first half of the 20th century. All this is “ready to go” in a way that makes the Roman situation look terribly messy by comparison. That’s why I’m not surprised that a number of secular clergy have become or seek to become Benedictine oblates: it gives them a direct channel to a full set of traditional liturgical books still in use in a fair number of abbeys in communion with the Holy See.
 
NOTE

[i] A clause in Rubricarum instructum of Pope John XXIII seems intended to close the lid on the issue (mind you, only for those with an obligation to the Divine Office): no. 3, “Item statuta, privilegia, indulta et consuetudines cuiuscumque generis, etiam saecularia et immemorabilia, immo specialissima atque individua mentione digna, quae his rubricis obstant, revocantur.” However, the pope left an exclusion clause in no. 3: “quae his rubricis obstant.” What exactly this amounts to would need further investigation.

Monday, July 11, 2022

The Feasts of St. Benedict and Their Proper Texts in Benedictine Churches

Catholics attentive to the sanctoral cycle will have noticed two feasts of St. Benedict that appear in the calendar (depending on your location and the form of the Mass): the dies natalis of March 21, which almost always falls during Lent, and the summer feast on July 11, which historically originated as a feast of the translation of relics but has been simply accepted by most Benedictines as an opportune time to celebrate their holy father. Traditionally March 21 has no octave due to Lenten austerity but July 11 has a jubilant octave. In the Tridentine calendar, March 21 is the only feast of the saint, and sadly since John XXIII the day is rarely given over to the great patriarch of Western monasticism. Even if the feast is observed, it would be observed with the “Os Justi” Common.

However, Benedictines who keep their own traditions rejoice in three proper Masses for their holy founder: one on March 21; another on July 11; and a third on July 18 for the octave. I thought it would interest NLM readers to see the proper texts for all three, which are conveniently found in an appendix to the St. Andrew Daily Missal (reprint of the 1945 edition). I do not know if any other founder of a religious “order” (taking that term in the broadest possible sense) enjoys such a profusion of proper Masses! The texts are extraordinarily rich and well-suited to the saint, a luminous exemplar of how the usus antiquior coalesces its changing texts around the figure of a saint as an icon of Christ, as a figure that fulfills in his life the message of Sacred Scripture.

I would draw the reader's attention particularly to the Sequence and the proper Preface.

We should bear in mind thatt the July 11th feast as the translation of St Benedict’s relics, while very old, was not universally celebrated by the OSB before the 19th century, and the recasting of it as the “solemnity of St Benedict” with an octave is rather recent. E.g., it is not in this edition of the breviary from 1831.

UPDATE (7/12/22): I have been informed by several people that there is yet another feast of St. Benedict observed in some monasteries, namely, a December 11th "In Veneratione et Repositione Sacrae Reliquiae Capitis SS. Patriarchae Nostri Benedicti." I have not been able to get hold of the Propers but here's a screenshot that was shared with me:
 

March 21


The March 21st propers are conveniently available as a PDF online, from which the following images have been extracted.

Monday, March 21, 2022

Humility of Service in Fixity of Form: The Policy of St. Benedict of Nursia

March 21 is the dies natalis of one of the most influential of all saints, Benedict of Nursia, Patriarch of Western Monasticism and Co-Patron of Europe. Highly pertinent to this blog’s concerns are the many profound liturgical lessons contained in the Holy Rule. Today I would like to consider a point from chapter 5.

According to St. Benedict, the root of humility is that a man must live not by his own desires and passions but by the judgment and bidding of another: ambulantes alieno judicio et imperio. When St. Benedict comes around to ordering the monastic liturgy, he makes continual reference to how things are done elsewhere: the psalms prayed by our fathers, the Ambrosian hymn, the canticles used by the Church of Rome. Even when fashioning his monastic cycle of prayer, he is constantly looking to the models already in existence. In like manner, chapter 7 warns us against “doing our own will,” lest we become corrupt and abominable.

This is the true spirit of liturgical conservatism, piety towards elders, and the imitation of Christ. We are not the ones who determine the shape of our worship; we receive it in humility as an “alien judgment” that we make our own. To do otherwise is to put the axe to the tree of humility. (St. Benedict allows for a redistribution of the psalms, as long as monks rigorously hold to the principle of praying the full psalter in one week. Therefore it would not conflict with humility for a monastic community to make some adjustments to the cycle of psalms, yet it would smack of temerity to reject the most ancient and stable pillars of the office, such as the praying of the whole psalter each week, and, to take a couple of specific examples, Psalms 109–112 for Sunday Vespers and Psalms 66, 50, 117, 62, and 148–150 for Sunday Lauds.)

Liturgical prayer has always been the foremost way of inculcating submission to Christ and His Church, so that we can learn His ways, and assimilate His prayer, and drink of His wisdom—which will certainly not be something we ourselves could have “cooked up.” Thus we take His yoke upon us…the yoke of tradition.

Prior to the middle of the twentieth century, it was taken for granted in Catholic circles that it is a special perfection of the sacred liturgy to be fixed, constant, stable, an immovable rock on which to build one’s spiritual life. The liturgy’s numerous and exacting rubrics were understood as guiding the celebrant along a prayerful path of submissive obedience, in which he could submerge his personality into the Person of Christ and merge his individual voice with the chorus of the Church at prayer. The formal, hieratic gestures transmitted an eternally fresh symbolism while limiting (if not eliminating) the danger of subjectivism and emotionalism. The priest or other minister was conformed to Christ the servant, who came not to do His own will but the will of Him who sent Him; he is commanded what to speak and what to do; he never speaks of himself.

The Father who abides in the Son does the work of the Son, and the Son who abides in the priest likewise does the work of the priest. In this way, even as the Son was “emptied of glory” in taking on the form of a slave, so, too, is the priest who enters His kenosis, sharing the hiddenness, humiliation, passion, and death of Christ. We may even say that the priest imitates and participates in the descent of Christ into hell by offering the Holy Sacrifice for the release of souls in Purgatory, which has a certain resemblance to the limbo of the fathers.

The last Holy Communion of St. Benedict

Our Lord, the great High Priest of the New Covenant said: “I cannot do anything of myself” (Jn 5:30). Here we have perhaps the most radical statement of the priest’s being tethered to the liturgy. It is a tethering so complete that he may truthfully say: “I cannot do otherwise.” If he thinks or acts otherwise, he has not yet become a slave, in imitation of the One who assumed the likeness of a slave. Worse, if he is allowed to do otherwise by a liturgical book, that book is a smudged and fractured mirror that does not reflect the Word.

This is why we ought to be unnerved by one of the most notable novelties in the Missal of Paul VI and in all the revised liturgical books, namely, that by which the celebrant is given many options among which he may choose, as well as opportunities for crafting his own speech: “in these or similar words.”[1] Confronted with such a phrase, one might legitimately ask: “How similar is similar?” In reality, the word of the liturgy and the word of the minister ought to be homoousios, of one and the same substance, not homoiousios, of a similar substance.

In the action of selecting options and extemporizing texts, the celebrant no longer perfectly reflects the Word of God who, as the perfect Image of the Father, receives His words and does not originate them, who does the will of another and not His own will. The elective and extemporizing celebrant does not show forth the fundamental identity of the Christian: one who receives and bears fruit, like the Blessed Virgin Mary; one who conceives with no help of man, by the descent of the Spirit alone.[2]

Instead, he adopts the posture of one who originates; he removes this sphere of action from the master to whom he reports; he carves out for himself a zone of autonomy; he denies the Lord the privilege of commanding him and deprives himself of the guerdon of submission; for a moment he leaves the narrow way of being a tool and steps on to the broad way of being somebody. He becomes not only an actor but a playwright; his free choice as an individual is exalted into a principle of liturgy. He joins the madding crowd that says, in the words of the Psalmist: linguam nostram magnificabimus, labia nostra a nobis sunt; quis noster dominus est? “We will magnify our tongue; our lips are our own; who is Lord over us?” (Ps 11:5).

But since free choice is antithetical to liturgy as a fixed ritual received from our forebears and handed down to our successors, choice tends rather to be a principle of distraction, dilution, or dissolution in the liturgy than of its well-being. The same critique may be given of all of the ways in which the new liturgy permits the celebrant an indeterminate freedom of speech, bodily bearing, and movement. Such voluntarism strikes at the very essence of liturgy, which is a public, objective, formal, solemn, and common prayer, in which all Christians are equally participants, even when they are performing irreducibly distinct acts. The prayer of Christians belongs to everyone in common, which means it should not belong to anyone in particular. The moment a priest invents something that is not common, he sets himself up as a clerical overlord vis-à-vis the people, who must now submit not to a rule of Christ and the Church, but to the arbitrary rule of this individual.

In the liturgy above all, we must never speak “from ourselves,” but only from Christ and His beloved Bride, the Church.

The deepest cause of the missionary collapse of the Church in the Western world is that we have lost our institutional and personal subordination to Christ the High Priest, the principal actor in the liturgy, the Word to whom we lend our mouth, our hands, our bodies, our souls. For the past fifty years it has not been perfectly clear that we are in fact ministers and servants of another, intelligent instruments wholly at His disposal. On the contrary, the opposite message has been promoted over and over again, ad nauseam, whether in words or in deeds: we have “come of age,” we are shaping the world, the Church, the Mass, the entire Christian life, according to our own lights, and for our own purposes. It is not difficult to see both that this is an inversion of the preaching of Christ and of the tradition of the Church and that it cannot produce renewal, but rather, confusion, infidelity, boredom, and desolation. We see here an exact parallel to what has happened with marriage: when so-called “free love” entered into the picture, out went committed love and heroic sacrifice, and in came lust, selfishness, dissatisfaction, and an unspeakable plague of loneliness. “Without me, you can do nothing” (Jn 15:5). In the realm of sexual morality as in the realm of liturgical morality, we have given a compelling demonstration of what we can accomplish without Christ and without His gift of tradition—namely, nothing.

As if the Church had suddenly developed an autoimmune disease, churchmen in the twentieth century turned against ecclesiastical traditions, against greatness in music, art, and architecture, against rites and ceremonies, in a sterile love-affair with nothingness. We have witnessed an inbreaking of the underworld, an influx of demonic energy and chaos. Rejecting one’s past is rejecting oneself; this is what makes the comparison to an autoimmune condition apt. It does no good to pretend that we are dealing with anything less harmful than this, less dangerous, or less in need of exorcism.

I believe that we are much more on our guard now: the enemy of human nature has shown his cards and we are better prepared to detect his wiles. I would include in this category the flurry of thinking and writing that has taken place in recent years about the inherent limits of papal authority, the obligation of the pope to act as servant of the servants of God rather than an oriental (or South American) despot, and the inner connection between liturgy, dogma, and morality. As time goes on, I have no doubt that the truth of the axiom lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi will be made manifest in a blazing light of obviousness that will swell the ranks of Catholic traditionalists and expose the modernism of their opponents past all gainsaying.

The liturgical humility taught and practiced by St. Benedict will be, once again, as it had already been for so many centuries of Church history, a vital force in the restoration of worship for which we pray and labor.

NOTES

[1] See Rev. Paul Turner, In These or Similar Words: Praying and Crafting the Language of the Liturgy (Franklin Park, IL: World Library Publications, 2014). A synopsis may be found at http://paulturner.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/ml-in-these-or-similar-words.pdf.

[2] See “The Spirit of the Liturgy in the Words and Actions of Our Lady” in Peter Kwasniewski, Noble Beauty, Transcendent Holiness: Why the Modern Age Needs the Mass of Ages (Kettering, OH: Angelico Press, 2017), 53–87.

Thursday, December 23, 2021

Our Lady’s Garden: A Benedictine Oblate’s Prayer Initiative for Catholic Families

A Benedictine oblate with whom I have been in correspondence for some time asked me if I would post this at NLM.--PAK

Our Lady’s Garden
“Who maketh a barren woman to dwell in a house
The joyful mother of children.” Psalm 112:9

I would like to introduce both myself and my apostolate.

My name is Barbara Swan. I am a parishioner at Mater Ecclesiae in Berlin, New Jersey. I am also Sister Barbara Mectilde of the Blessed Sacrament, OSB Oblate, and as such, I am an “external monastic,” an Oblate, attached to Our Lady of the Annunciation Abbey in Clear Creek, Oklahoma. (Clear Creek Abbey is a daughter of the Abbey of Fontgombault, which is, in turn, a daughter of the Abbey of Solesmes founded by the great Dom Prosper Guéranger, the author of The Liturgical Year.) My apostolate is prayer—prayer especially for the many young faithful families at Mater Ecclesiae.

Starting on December 28, 2021, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, I will begin praying a daily Holy Hour at my home oratory for any family who would like to have me do so. What I ask is that, if you are interested, you provide me with the following:

The names of all family members
A recent photograph of the entire family to put on my altar (because we are often anonymous to each other; preferably portrait orientation so I may use it on my mobile devices)
Any special prayer requests or concerns you would like me to pray for

My daily Holy Hour for each family would consist of:

Monastic Vespers according to the Rule of St. Benedict
Five decades of the Rosary of the Mysteries of the day
Individual prayers for each family member
Intercessory prayers to each member’s patron Saint
A daily sacrifice or mortification
Dedication of the graces and blessings of entire day to that family

On Sundays, I would offer my intentions at Mass and the Divine Office for all the families for whom I am praying.

I take my inspiration from Father Pasley’s declaration of gratitude for, and encouragement of, the many “young families making many sacrifices to pass on the Faith…(who) give me strength and hope…(and who) remind me every day that the Lord will be victorious.”

You, young faithful families, are our future and it is incumbent upon all of us to also offer our own sacrifices along with yours so that the entire Body of Christ will be strengthened.

If you are interested in allowing me to offer what I can to the Lord for your family, please contact me at: ourladysgardenprayers@gmail.com.

I hope to be able to set up a website for this apostolate if it generates enough interest.

Our Lady’s Garden

I sit in a Garden of Flowers
In bud and in bloom
Precious in the eyes of Him
To Whom they lend their fragrance:
their fragrance of innocence, purity and  love

Many blooms has this garden
Too numerous to count
O that they will bloom for eternity
Planted in His hidden garden of
Life Everlasting

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

How Do Friendships Endure? by a Monk of Pluscarden Abbey

Here is an essay on the nature of friendship by a monk of the community of Pluscarden Abbey in Scotland, reproduced with permission from the Pentecost edition of their magazine, Pluscarden Benedictines. Friendship is an important aspect of the life of Benedictine monks, who are, in principle, bound to live in community with the same people for may well turn out to be several decades. As such, their lives as celibates in long-lasting and stable communities puts them in a position to consider the nature of human friendship and its relation to friendship with God. The bond that unites the community is the noble call of their common work of the worship of God, the opus Dei.

This essay is similar in theme, but at the same time in stark contrast to the series of three, I posted recently on the pictorial allegories of love as described in the Song of Songs: part 1, part 2, and part 3. Whereas the Song is a romantic and passionate love poem in which spousal love is portrayed as analogous to and participating in our love of God and God’s love for us, caritas, our wise Benedictine focuses on friendship (philia, amicitia), in which is there is no romantic component, and makes the argument that this too, if authentic, is a participation in ‘divine friendship’, which is an alternative way of referring to that same caritas. Caritas is a love which is simultaneously multi-faceted, superabundant and yet, paradoxically simple. Friendships, as with the spousal relationship in marriage, are therefore a training ground for heaven.

While the writer’s focus is primarily (though not exclusively) on deep and lasting friendships, my thoughts ran as I read it to the significance of superficial and temporary friendships. One thing that the last 18 months of enforced wearing of face-hiding masks and social isolation has taught me is how important regular and superficial contact with people is. For the most part, in the time of COVID, I have managed to maintain in some form at least my close friendships, but the number of regular face-to-face contacts with strangers has reduced dramatically, and I can feel the difference. Saying, ‘hello’ to strangers or to a person only seen in that one context regularly, say at the checkout of the local store, and who then returns the greeting with a smile, has a part to play in relieving loneliness too. Perhaps even these simple short interactions can also be small but significant occasions that lead us and others to heaven!
Photos by Peter Chalmers
There is a scene in the film About a Boy in which a couple asks the protagonist, played by Hugh Grant, to be godfather to their new baby girl. Grant plays an aging pop star who is drifting in life, and has for years been living off the royalties of the only hit single of his career. Though capable of personal charm, he is a cynic who claims he delights in a life of selfishness and irresponsibility in his personal relationships. At the beginning of the story, when asked to be a godfather he immediately refuses. The parents respond by suggesting that maybe he has hidden depths to his personality and that taking on this responsibility might help to bring them out. ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong,’ he replies, ‘I really am this shallow.’
However, in the course of the film, he meets a boy who draws him into friendship by stimulating his latent instincts to be a father. This in turn opens him up to other deeper and more satisfying loving relationships that he previously claimed he did not need. Its ring of truth for me was that it was not presented as a story of transition from misery to ecstasy, but rather, from relative contentedness to a far richer and more joyful life: from grayscale to glorious technicolor. It’s not that the friendships he had were nothing, rather, they were not enough, and he didn’t realize it until one of them developed into the life-changing friendship between himself and the boy.
I am not suggesting that shallowness and superficiality are all we need in our personal interactions, but I am going to say that shallow and superficial human interactions are underrated! Most of us need the full spectrum ranging from superficial and temporary to deep and permanent; one might say that God’s love is a single utterance that draws all loves, grey and colored, into itself.
Here then, is the essay.
HOW DO FRIENDSHIPS ENDURE?
How do friendships endure? It is certainly an interesting question. Both classical philosophy and St Thomas Aquinas applied the term friendship (philia, amicitia) to a wider range of human relationships than we are used to doing. Or rather, to be more precise, the Greek and Latin words which they used covered a wider range of meanings. Still, these terms obviously included our ordinary friendships. I cannot help but think of my best friend Paul in this context. We have known each other for over twenty years now. Our friendship endures and thrives, even though twelve years ago I entered a contemplative Benedictine monastery, while he has since become a husband and a father of four. That, plus a busy professional life, consumes more than 100% of his physical, mental and spiritual energies. We see each other a couple of times a year, at best, and yet the bond between us is stronger than ever, I would say. Why is this? Basing myself solely on Aristotle, I could already say a great deal: true human friendship is based on virtue, on worth; there has to be a certain equality between friends and the attachment must be mutual, but once it exists, friendship provides an ideal setting for growth in virtue; this growth in its turn strengthens the bond, and so it goes...
For St Thomas, this is how we prepare “the ground” for charity, which alone can carry us to God and life everlasting. Still, Aquinas would obviously want me to move beyond these basic truths and see my natural love for a friend itself as (with the help of grace) charity – so not just a mere setting for something greater, but the privileged means of achieving life everlasting. This is how we make our way to heaven: “not by bodily movements but by the soul's affections”, by enlarging the scope and the intensity of our human loves (2a2ae.24,4). Even though there can be no “natural” equality between God and man, charity (what God is in his essence and that thing “with which” we love him in our turn) is a kind of friendship! Charity “is our friendship for God arising from our sharing in eternal happiness” (2a2ae.24,2). It “is not based principally on human virtue, but on the divine goodness” 10 (2a2ae.23,3), expressed in “his sharing his happiness with us”.
In this present life, we can only experience it within our souls where “we have intercourse with God and the angels, though imperfectly” (2a2ae.23,1). My friendship with Paul then is ultimately a participation in this “divine friendship” – a unique virtue, the highest of all virtues, which alone “attains God himself so as to rest in him without looking for any gain” (2a2ae.23,6). Let me take a few steps back and start again. I could say that my friendship with Paul has endured because somehow we found each other equal in worth (more or less), and we mutually affirmed one another with (more or less again) the same intensity. Before that could happen, “life” somehow had to throw us together. We started off as what people would call “colleagues” nowadays (as students in the same department of the University of Warsaw) and teammates (representing our university in volleyball), not friends as such. But Aristotle would already apply the term philia to both of these fairly superficial connections, and St Thomas took up this broad understanding: “the chief concern of any friendship is with the main source of that shared good on which it is based” (2a2ae.26,2).
In other words, any shared good can become the basis of an amicitia. Yet I had studied and played volleyball with dozens, if not hundreds of people over those five years, and the vast majority of these “friendships” lasted only as long as the shared good on which they were based lasted, that is, only as long as we had the same preoccupations. Moreover, I had been in relationships with women which, at the time, seemed deeper and stronger than anything else in my life – but they all ended. Not so with Paul. Our friendship has survived all sorts of losses of lesser goods over the years. Why? Because we found each other good somehow, I think.
Man always aims at some good, Aristotle would say, even when in the middle of making a complete mess of his life. We love and desire “goodness” naturally, wherever we see it, even when we are deluded and the good is only apparent. So I can love the genuine good that comes with playing volleyball and, by extension, “love” all those who share this experience with me, especially when they are on my team and play well. But it is 11 slightly different when it comes to good people as such, because the “shared good” is hardly separable from them. What is more, it is also hardly separable from me, as I want to be good too. Not in some flat, moralistic sense; I just want to be a good instance of man, or even simply a good me. What happens when I see a man who appears good? “There are two things that we love in friendship,” wrote Aquinas, “our friend himself, for whom we desire good things; and the very good itself that we desire for him” (2a2ae.25,2). This “very good” in the case of people has to do with virtue, according to the classical tradition: a good man is a virtuous man; his virtue constitutes his worth as a man.
Our friendship began because Paul’s goodness somehow manifested itself to me through the dispositions which constitute his character, and vice versa – though back then we would never think of it this way. It endured because these dispositions are stable, repeatedly manifest themselves in what he does, and so they tend to strengthen the initial affirmation. This provides an ideal setting for growth in virtue for both of us; these “two things that we love in friendship” – we love them more and more, as the “two loves” and the two friends reinforce one another. St Thomas went further by placing friendship in the grandest of all possible schemes of things – “within” the theological virtue of charity, which then, in its turn, takes it right “into” God. I am able to love other people, including my friend Paul, because God loved me first – and that, for Aquinas, is specifically by sharing his eternal happiness with me. This is how God's love manifested itself, this is “God's virtue”, so to speak, through which I am able to know what he is like, to know his “character”.
Astoundingly, since eternal life is what I have in common with God now, I am able to have a personal relationship with a Being utterly beyond my reach otherwise. And this, in turn, enables me to love others (with various types of love and degrees of intensity), even my personal enemies and grave sinners, ultimately as also belonging to God, as his (potential) friends. Love, says Aquinas, “derives its species from its object, but its intensity from the lover” (2a2ae.26,7). Therefore, I will naturally desire greater good for 12 people whom I consider nearer to God, but the nearer the person is to me, the more intense this desire. No two relationships in my life will be the same then; their quality will depend on people's nearness to God and their nearness to me. Or perhaps, more precisely, on my inevitably skewed perceptions of these “nearnesses”. So really, in the final analysis, my friendship with Paul endures because, to a large extent, it has eternal life as the shared good on which it is based. Consequently, our friendship provides us with an ideal setting not merely for further growth in virtue, though it does – it is rather a training ground for heaven. In eternity “the entire order of love will be determined with reference to God, so that the closer another is to God the more dearly will we love him and see him as our own,” says St Thomas (2a2ae.26,13). In other words, the closeness to God will be the same as nearness to me. There is therefore no form of amicitia better than true friendship in approximating what will go on in heaven.
This is the best “simulator” available, if you like. But it does not stop at this, there is one more final consolation: Paul and I will still be friends “up there”, according to Aquinas (providing we both make it, of course, one can never presume that). True, closeness to God will be by far the most important factor in determining the order of our loves in heaven, but our earthly attachments will survive also – grace does not supplant nature, it perfects nature.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

Mens’ Monastic Experience Weekend in Petersham, Mass., Nov. 8-10

Fr Dunstan from St Mary’s Monastery, Petersham, has asked me to pass on information about the next monastic experience weekend. They are a contemplative OSB community in Central Massachusetts, 70 miles from Boston. He says:
During this weekend, young single RC men don’t stay in the guest house and hear talks about monastic life from us, they actually live monastic life with us, within the usually private monastic enclosure. They do what we do, when we do it.

Contact Fr Gregory and the Vocations Team, St Mary’s Monastery
Incidentally, if you are wondering why St Mary’s gets a spot on the NLM the answer is simple. They asked me!

Tuesday, July 09, 2019

Monastic Experience Weekend at Pluscarden Abbey in Elgin, Scotland, Aug. 2-5

The monks of Pluscarden Abbey, a Benedictine monastery in northern Scotland, are offering an exceptional opportunity to experience first-hand what monastic life is about. It takes place during the weekend of Friday, August 2nd to Monday, August 5th. (Pluscarden Abbey is featured by this site in the Vocations column, bottom left.)

There will be no charge. The invitation is extended to single young men, Catholics who practice their faith, aged 18-35 years. Anyone interested is invited to contact Fr Benedict Hardy OSB by email, novicemaster@pluscardenabbey.org. You can find out more about the abbey and the event itself at www.pluscardenabbey.org.

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Monastic Experience Weekend at St Mary’s in Petersham, Mass., May 31 - June 2

Live a Life in L - Liturgy, Lectio, Labor!

The next monastic experience weekend for men at St Mary’s Benedictine Monastery in Petersham, Massachusetts, will take place at the end of the month, May 31 - June 2. It is open to men aged 18-40 years of age. This is now the third year that they have put this on, and each time the response has been positive. The hope is to attract vocations, which has happened in the past, but there are great benefits to both attendees and the community alike, regardless if any ever come back again. There is a poster with contact details below, and as before, Fr Dunstan has recorded one of his slightly off-the-monastic-perimeter-wall videos.


Their rule for discerning vocation is interesting: listen twice, act once. This is very similar to what my icon painting teacher Aidan Hart always says in regard to artistic inspiration: think twice, paint once. The discernment of vocation is, in one sense, looking for inspiration on how to paint the picture of our life for which each of us the artist, so it is not surprising that the two contemplatives, artist and monk might adopt a similar approach.

In his video and in the poster, there is a request for prayers for the community, as they say, people often forget to pray for the pray-ers!

Fr Gregory and the Vocations Team, St Mary’s Monastery:
http://www.stmarysmonastery.org/
https://www.facebook.com/stmarysmonastery/

Tuesday, October 02, 2018

Benedictine Monastic Experience Weekend, St Mary’s Monastery, Petersham, MA. October 26-28

Fr Dunstan at St Mary’s Monastery in Petersham, Massachusetts has sent me notice of the next Monastic Weekend, so if you would like to explore a religious vocation, go on a retreat, or just investigate what it is like to be  monk, this might be for you!

This is regular event which has been appreciated in the past, and I am happy to pass on details again.

Fr Dunstan explains more about it in a video at the bottom, with another great opening line (he has a knack for these): “If you want to change the world, think big and act little!”


Thursday, October 12, 2017

Benedictine Monastic Experience Weekend, Nov 3-5, Petersham, Massachusetts

Here is notification for this year’s weekend at St Mary’s Monastery in Petersham, Massachusetts. I was pleasantly surprised at how positive the response was last year, and am happy to give notification of the event again. A poster with the details is below, followed by a video of Fr Dunstan describing the event.

It has one of the best opening lines I have seen in a while: “This is a low quality video about a high quality idea.” And it is indeed a high quality idea! I suggest that this is worth watching even if you are sure you’re not going to the November event and will never get to Petersham. It is a wonderfully clear explanation of what a religious vocation is and why it is worth pursuing.


Monday, October 02, 2017

Revisiting Courtly Liturgy

When I published an article here some time ago, “In Defense of Liturgy as Carolingian Court Ritual,” a reader shared with me the following comments:
Would you say that the monastic tradition of liturgy contrasts to the ‘courtly’ diocesan form of ritual, especially after Trent? That is my impression. My own sense and understanding of the traditional liturgy is more from reading the French Benedictines, and from Cardinal Ratzinger. It seems that most of the liturgical movement drew from the monastic tradition, as opposed to the Baroque and modern diocesan traditions of ritual. Might a renewal of the traditional liturgy drawing more from the monastic tradition answer the ‘needs of modern man’ more than a courtlier Baroque form?
This is an interesting point. If one doesn't look too closely at the age of Cluny, it would be true to say that monastic liturgy is, on the whole, simpler; nor is it surprising that so many of the pioneers of the Liturgical Movement were Benedictine monks who sought to share the wealth they had preserved, particularly in the form of the Divine Office, with modern people who still felt moved by the witness of the monks and nuns when the golden glow of the Baroque had long since faded. In every era until our own (and even now, in places where communities are faithful to their original charisms), the monastic liturgy has retained a profound consistency, tranquility, dignity, and loving attention to detail, which makes it especially suitable for emulation and transplantation. We should not forget, however, that the abbot, a prelate in his own right, is treated regally according to the rubrics of the traditional Mass, and that the equation of ‘monastic’ with austere, angular, and efficient is more a heritage of Collegeville than of any thriving monastery prior to about 1950.

Nevertheless, while I would want there to be a place for relatively simpler liturgy (as long as it was still thoroughly traditional), I also think we should not underestimate the “shock value” of Baroque liturgy. It is so different that it has something special to tell us right now. The Institute of Christ the King, with its French Baroque style of celebrating solemn functions, is making an important contribution to the life and mission of the Church today precisely by recovering and giving a suitable place to a rich part of our Catholic liturgical tradition that people who are too wedded to democracy and pragmatism have lost, or never cared to acquire. We need many tongues for proclaiming the Gospel; we have room for, and a need for, as many manners of celebrating authentic liturgical rites as our history has developed. One may go so far as to state that Baroque grandeur and excess are needed in direct proportion to contemporary reductionism and trivialization.
Photo courtesy of St Peter’s Seminary, Wigratzbad, Germany (FSSP)
Gregory DiPippo also pointed out to me another angle of argumentation that I had not exploited in my original post. When we are considering the courtliness of liturgy with its irreducible monarchical and aristocratic elements, we should not forget to breathe with both lungs of the Church. The Byzantine Divine Liturgy is positively bursting with courtly imagery and gesture, as befits its long sojourn in Constantinople. The Byzantines have retained many of these features because they did not succumb to the minimalism, utilitarianism, and democratic thinking that have poisoned the springs of Western social life and made of us men with hollow chests.

Byzantine Christians have all the same kinds of “courtly” rituals that the Roman Rite has, such as the kissing of the celebrant's hands, the bowing towards persons, icons, and other objects, the candles, and the incense, rituals that had their origin in the veneration surrounding the emperor.[1] Nor should we be surprised: both the Byzantine court and the Carolingian court saw themselves as continuations of the Roman Empire, now consecrated in its new role as supreme governor of the Christian world, for the glory of God and the empire of Christ. It was completely natural to the clergy and faithful to adopt for their divine worship customs that accompanied the earthly ruler; indeed, in so doing, they restored, as it were, the proper immovable and incorruptible object of veneration, bestowing on the ruler the privilege of being an earthly icon of the divine King. What began on earth was raised to heaven and seated there at the right hand of the Father; thence it descended to the human throne as a mantle of authorization and responsibility.

All four of the Cherubic hymns refer to Christ as King.

Daily use:
We, who mystically represent the Cherubim, and chant the thrice-holy hymn to the Life-giving Trinity, let us set aside the cares of life that we may receive the King of all, Who comes invisibly escorted by the Divine Hosts.
At the Liturgy of the Presanctified:
Now the powers of heaven do serve invisibly with us. Lo, the King of Glory enters. O, the mystical sacrifice is upborne, fulfilled. Let us draw near in faith and love, and become communicants of life eternal.
On Holy Thursday:
Of Thy mystical Supper, Lord, let me partake, O Son of God, for of Thy mysteries I will not speak to Thy enemies nor kiss Thee like Judas, but like the thief on the cross I will confess Thee: In Thy Kingdom, Lord, remember me.
On Holy Saturday:
Let all mortal flesh keep silent, and stand with fear and trembling, and in itself consider nothing of earth; for the King of kings and Lord of lords cometh forth to be sacrificed, and given as food to the believers; and there go before Him the choirs of Angels, with every dominion and power, the many-eyed Cherubim and the six-winged Seraphim, covering their faces, and crying out the hymn.
The Byzantines currently use the last of these only on Holy Saturday, but it was the daily use Cherubic hymn for the Liturgy of St James, which is currently undergoing something of a revival among the liturgically outré. The traditional Old Church Slavonic version is incredibly impressive.

Thus the Byzantine rite’s four chants for the Great Entrance refer to the coming of the King, including His post-resurrection life as king of the universe. This, of course, is nothing other than a consistent application of the imagery of kingship with which the Book of Revelation is rife:
And the seventh angel sounded the trumpet: and there were great voices in heaven, saying: The kingdom of this world is become our Lord's and his Christ's, and he shall reign for ever and ever. Amen. And the four and twenty ancients, who sit on their seats in the sight of God, fell on their faces and adored God... (Rev 11:15-16 DRA)
Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ: because the accuser of our brethren is cast forth, who accused them before our God day and night. (Rev 12:10 DRA)
And singing the canticle of Moses, the servant of God, and the canticle of the Lamb, saying: Great and wonderful are thy works, O Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, O King of ages. Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and magnify thy name? For thou only art holy: for all nations shall come, and shall adore in thy sight, because thy judgments are manifest. (Rev 15:3-4 DRA)
These shall fight with the Lamb, and the Lamb shall overcome them, because he is Lord of lords, and King of kings, and they that are with him are called, and elect, and faithful. (Rev 17:14 DRA)
It was once common to say, and one still hears it said once in a while, that the Mass is a mystical representation of the life of Christ, that it makes His life present to us in all of its mysteries, as if recombining the spectrum into pure white light so that all the colors are virtually there in a single moment. Since this is true, we must say that ALL phases of the life of Our Lord are present and active, including the 2,000 years of His Mystical Body over which He reigns as the glorified King and Son of God (in the Davidic and more than Davidic sense). In fact, while the Mass is the sacramental renewal of the once-for-all sacrifice of Calvary, we know at the same time that it is the offering of the risen Lord in His royal dignity, power, and beauty. Thus, however much we rightly emphasize the Passion, the Mass should be for us a tangible (i.e., sacramental) encounter with our glorious King. The traditional Roman rite, especially in its sung and solemn forms, does exactly this, in company with all the Eastern rites.

It is currently, for some odd reason, fashionable to admire the colorful extravagance of the Byzantine liturgy while contemptuously dismissing anything in the Latin tradition suggestive of the same. We admire gigantic gold vessels and rich vestments in the East while settling for unsightly cups and drab drapes in the West; we catch our breaths at an impressive iconostasis, while shaking our heads at altar rails and other signs of separation between the nave and the sanctuary; we extol the marvelous poetry of the kontakion or troparion sung to a haunting traditional melody, while leaving our own incomparable Gregorian repertoire out in the cold. I doubt NLM readers are afflicted with this peculiar double standard or hypocrisy, but its ubiquitous presence in the halls of academia and power suggests that we are dealing with a psychological disorder, a kind of self-loathing that compels some people to strip themselves of the treasures of "the other" and to force themselves into a plainness that is almost a punishment or an echo chamber of one's own emptiness. We can point to the beauty elsewhere, like a tourist passing through Versailles, as long as we deprive ourselves of it here and now, and suffer our democratic fate.

This, eventually, is where the rejection of Christ's kingship will lead, and has already led. His royalty will either be fully embodied in and expressed through our primary, fundamental, and culminating public, political, and civic action, namely, the sacred liturgy, which will form the reference point and stable basis of Christian society; or it will be rejected and replaced by the tyranny of man over man, the tyranny of fashion or ideology: "We have no king but Caesar."

NOTES

[1] "The liturgy had taken over from the court ceremonial of the pagan emperors the symbolic language for the presence of the supreme sovereign: candles, which preceded the emperor, and the thurible. Whenever candles and incense appear in the liturgy, they indicate a new culmination of the divine presence" (Martin Mosebach, Foreword to P. Kwasniewski, Noble Beauty, Transcendent Holiness [Kettering, OH: Angelico Press, 2017], xxii).

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