St Demetrius the Great-Martyr

On October 26, Byzantine Christians celebrate with great solemnity the feast of St Demetrius of Thessalonica, a soldier and martyr of the early 4th century, whose popularity is almost as great as that of another warrior, St George. The traditional story of his life is that he succeeded his father as military commander at Thessalonica, but was imprisoned by the Emperor Maximian (286-305) for not only refusing his orders to persecute the Christians, but openly preaching the Gospel.

Maximian had a favorite gladiator, a very large German named Lyaeus, who, at his behest, challenged any Christian to wrestle him on a platform surrounded by spears. A Christian named Nestor, brave, but very small of stature, visited Demetrius in prison and received his blessing, after which he wrestled and beat Lyaeus, hurling him down onto the spears. In his anger at losing his favorite gladiator, Maximian sent his soldiers to the prison, where they speared Demetrius though the chest, while Nestor was killed the following day.

This story forms the tropar of St Demetrius’ feast day.

The world has found you to be a great defense against tribulation, and a vanquisher of heathens, O Passion-bearer. As you bolstered the courage of Nestor, who then humbled the arrogance of Lyaios in battle, Holy Demetrius, entreat Christ God to grant us great mercy.
Kontakion God, who has given you invincible might, has tinged the Church with streams of your blood, Demetrius! He preserves your city from harm, for you are its foundation!

Devotion to St Demetrius has always been very strong among the Slavs, particularly as a patron of soldiers, as witnessed by the popularity of the name Dmitry. Attempts have even been made to claim him as a Slav, since he was supposed to be originally from the city of Sirmium, now called Mitrovica, in Serbia; this is in fact in the area of the Balkan peninsula where the Slavs first settled in Europe, but only in the 6th century. His patronage of soldiers was reaffirmed in modern times during the First Balkan War (Oct. 1912 – May 1913), when Thessalonica was liberated from Ottoman control and united to Greece on his feast day in 1912. He is also honored with the titles “Great-Martyr”, as one who suffered much for the Faith, “Myrrh-gusher” from the tradition that streams of scented oil came forth from his relics, and “Wonderworker” for the many miracles attributed to him.

An icon of the Martyrdom of St Demetrius, painted by an unknown Cretan artist in the second half of the 15th century. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Saint’s funeral, by the same artist. The church in the background is a representation of his basilica in Thessaloniki, with an image of him over the door. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Christ with Four Military Saints (Theedore of Amasea, Theodore Stratelates, Demetrius and George), by Michael Damaskinos (1530-93). - Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

The Byzantine Synaxarion, the equivalent of the Martyrology, also still notes on this day a terrible earthquake which took place in Constantinople in the year 740, which killed thousands of people and did terrible damage to the city and its walls. This was the year before the death of the first iconoclast Emperor, Leo the Isaurian, and it was generally believed that the earthquake was a divine punishment for the iconoclast heresy. There are also liturgical texts for the day which refer to this event, which serve roughly as the equivalent of what we call a commemoration in the Roman Rite. As a matter of their deep respect for history and tradition, those who celebrate the Byzantine Rite may omit these texts, but they have never been removed from the liturgical books, a wise policy we would do well to emulate in the West.

Troparion Thou who lookest upon the earth, and cause it to tremble, deliver us from the fearful threat of the earthquake, and send upon us Thy rich mercies, by the prayers of the Mother of God, o Thou who lovest mankind.

There Was No “Original Liturgical War”: A Response to Dmitri Solzhenitsyn

Communion of the Apostles

The following article was published at Crisis Magazine on October 7, 2026, and is reprinted here with the kind permission of the editor Eric Sammons.

In an article published at The Catholic Thing on September 18, 2026, Dmitri Solzhenitsyn endeavors to summarize for readers what he calls “The Original ‘Liturgy Wars’: Between East and West.” His basic argument is that wars over liturgy are nothing new—in fact, the first battlefield was between East and West, inasmuch as the Western church slowly drifted away from the original template still preserved to this day in the Eastern churches. The way he tells the story makes it almost sound plausible.

The argument he puts forth rests on an underlying double premise: first, there was a primitive common liturgical repository from which all the different traditions differently evolved; second, this repository was Greek or Byzantine.

However, no serious liturgical scholar holds either of these positions any more.

As to the first, Paul Bradshaw and others have demontrated that the opposite is true: at the beginning there seems to be considerable diversity, and over time there tends to be convergence and assimilation, as different rites either borrow from each other or replace one another. Ritual practice tends to assimilate itself to that of the great Sees (see Gregory DiPippo’s discussion of this trend in his lecture “Unity in Diversity”). In the West, that great See would, of course, be Rome; in the East, it would not be Byzantium initially, but Jerusalem and Antioch, with Constantinople acquiring dominance after the seventh century.

Solzhenitsyn gives the impression that we have a well-documented commonality between Old Rome and New Rome in liturgical matters, from which one of them (namely Old Rome) diverged; thus, he writes: “All of this established the Roman rite as distinct from the Byzantine,” as if they had begun aligned and then diverged. That is not the case; there is no evidence whatsoever for it. After all, if “by the end of the seventh century, East and West had diverging prayers, hymns, cadences, and even iconography,” what are we to make of the “diverging prayers” etc. within the East itself—since Jerusalem, Alexandria, Antioch, and Byzantium all prayed differently? The notion that the Byzantine liturgy has a normative antiquity or a peculiar fidelity to apostolic origins is an assumption without foundation.

That brings me to the second premise. Solzhenitsyn gives the impression that “the East” means or is equivalent to Byzantine or Constantinopolitan. Not only does it not mean this, but in the earliest period of Christian liturgy Byzantium is very much less important than Jerusalem, Antioch, and Alexandria, whose traditions are older and were more influential for a time. Armenia and Georgia had already adopted the liturgy of Jerusalem at the time when Byzantium/Constantinople/New Rome was first declared a patriarchate. Those older rites already wielded considerable prestige. And yet, we see—as could be expected—a great diversity and vitality of different traditions. The paucity of information and the diversity of traditions in the early centuries make it singularly difficult to pin down where something first occurred, or who influenced whom.

Solzhenitsyn claims: “During the later 300s the Greek liturgy was uniquely refined: garments like the sticharion (a kind of long tunic), hymnography like the short troparia, and sophisticated vessels were a much more prominent feature of Byzantine rites than of the simpler Latin rites.”

By “the Greek liturgy,” presumably he means “the Byzantine.” The problem with such sweeping claims is that we know little to nothing about the Byzantine liturgy of the fourth century. There is precious little documentation of it or citation from it available. There is, for example, no equivalent to St. Ambrose of Milan’s citation of the Roman Canon in the De Sacramentis, written around 387, which strongly points to the Roman Canon already being a familiar anaphora by that time.

The claim about the sticharion cannot be substantiated and is anachronistic. It is well known that clerical attire in the early centuries had not yet evolved into a distinct type of clothing set apart from secular clothing; rather, the clergy wore the best garments available when performing the rites, and due to the innate conservatism of the religious instinct, the sacristy wardrobe remained fixed in style while secular clothing changed out in the world. In any case, it was not long before Western vestments displayed the same stunning beauty as their contemporaneous Eastern counterparts.

Hymns such as the troparia had indeed already emerged as a literary genre by the late 300s, when Byzantium was still a suffragan of Herakleia, not a patriarchate. The Latin hymns of St. Ambrose, long admired for their mellifluous poetry and lofty theological conceptions, were written at just the same time, and soon entered the Western liturgy.

As for “sophisticated vessels,” it is rather difficult to understand what the phrase even means. As soon as we have records of liturgical vessels in the West, we see they are ornate and valuable, which is why the pagan Romans tried to steal them. For example, the Gesta apud Zenophilum/Acta purgationis Felicis, centered on the church at Cirta in North Africa and dated to 303, records an inventory of items taken in a raid, including 2 gold chalices, 6 silver chalices, 6 silver cruets, a small silver basin, 2 large chandeliers, 7 small bronze lamps and their holders, 11 bronze lamps with chains, 38 curtains, substantial quantities of clothing, a silver chest, and a lamp that had been concealed in the library.

The gravest error in Solzhenitsyn’s article is his reporting, with approval, the opinion of some Eastern sources that the Roman liturgy originally had a “descending” epiklesis—that is, an invocation of the Holy Spirit to bring about the conversion of bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ—that had somehow dropped out of or been removed from the Roman rite. He cites (approvingly?) Orthodox patriarchs who in 1848 accused the Roman Church of “rejecting” from the Canon “the very ancient and Apostolic invocation of the Consecrating Spirit” and thus “miserably mutilating the Sacrifice in its most essential part.” (A less extreme exponent of the view that the Roman Rite once had this kind of epiklesis would be Adrian Fortescue, the inaccuracy of whose views has been discussed elsewhere.)

In reality, the Roman rite never had such an epiklesis because its unique anaphora predates the Macedonian controversy over the divinity of the Holy Spirit, which afflicted only the East and is the reason why the Byzantine rite inserted an epiklesis that the Roman rite never needed. The Roman theology of consecation is different, and, tellingly, older. If anything, it is the Byzantine epiklesis, as a later insertion, that requires explanation. (I will not enter here into the Roman rite’s “ascending” epiklesis, the Supplices te rogamus, which is not relevant to the point at hand, nor into the Veni, Sanctificator prayer of the Offertory, which alludes to the Holy Spirit but does not have the function of an epiklesis as we are now discussing it.)

Continuing his brief for Latin deviation from or corruption of a putatively pure and uniform “Greek” original, Solzhenitsyn claims that leavened bread was used by everyone from the beginning but the West drifted later on into the practice of unleavened bread, and, similarly, that the marriage of priests was normative but the West later enforced clerical celibacy. He seems unaware that a long history of scholarly debate exists on these questions.

On the topic of the type of bread used, our information is too scant to permit a determination of when unleavened bread began to be used in the West. The West may have used unleavened bread in imitation of what Christ did at the Passover; for all we know, both types may have been in use at the same time in different places. The fact that we know unleavened bread to be widespread by the Carolingian period does not mean it was invented in that period. On the topic of celibacy, Solzhenitsyn oversimplifies the historical record. For a different telling of the history, I recommend Alphonso Stickler’s The Case for Clerical Celibacy: Its Historical Development and Theological Foundations, Christian Cochini’s Apostolic Origins of Priestly Celibacy, and the first chapter of Gary Selin’s Priestly Celibacy: Theological Foundations.

Sadly, it would appear that Solzhenitsyn has permitted himself to be formed and persuaded by classic tropes of Eastern Orthodox apologetics, which tend to grant a fictitious primacy to the Byzantine East, instead of taking seriously the far more complex and diversified picture that scholarship paints of the early Christian centuries. Moreover, Eastern writers in general neglect to pay attention to the historical evidence of slow organic development within their own liturgical (and theological) tradition. The “Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom,” whatever connections it had with the saint after whom it is named, took many centuries to develop to its present completed state; it did not descend fully formed from the heavenly Jerusalem.

I would not wish to be seen as solely negative. The article’s strongest point is its near-admission that the modern rite of Paul VI or Novus Ordo marks an unprecedented rupture from both the Roman tradition itself and from the entire world of historic apostolic rites, both Eastern and Western—a claim I defend at length in my book The Once and Future Roman Rite (2022), a portion of which is available in the article “The Byzantine Liturgy, the Traditional Latin Mass, and the Novus Ordo—Two Brothers and a Stranger.” The melancholy words of Cleenewerck would be difficult to dispute: “The liturgical metamorphosis of the Roman Catholic Church... widened the gulf” between East and West.

The Feast of the Holy Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical Council

In the Byzantine tradition, today is the commemoration of the Holy Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, the second held in the city of Nicaea, at which the Iconoclast heresy was condemned, and the sacred images restored to their rightful places for the veneration of the Christian faithful. The definitive decree on the veneration of images was promulgated at the seventh session of Second Nicaea, on October 13, 787; the commemoration is fixed according to various traditions to a Sunday close to that date. Some years ago, I heard a sermon at a Byzantine liturgy on this day which recalled an important truth about this council, namely, that it did not decree that sacred images are merely good and useful, but that they are necessary!

The rejection of the sacred images, particularly those of Christ, is ultimately a denial of the Incarnation. The very choice of location for the council expressed this idea; at the time it was called, the two previous ecumenical councils and the important synod ‘in Trullo’ had all been held in Constantinople. The Empress Irene, who as regent of her young son Constantine VI, arranged for a council to condemn iconoclasm, had tried to hold it in the imperial capital, but it was broken up by soldiers friendly to the heresy. It was therefore moved to Nicaea, where the first ecumenical council had gathered 462 years earlier to condemn the Arian heresy that denied the true divinity of Christ. (To put this in chronological perspective, this is a greater distance in time than that between Trent and Vatican II.)

The refusal to depict Christ is a rejection of the fullness of His humanity, which is real, solid, and “circumscribed”, i.e., subject to limitations, and therefore capable of being expressed in an image. His humanity is the means of our redemption and salvation, as we confess in the Creed every Sunday, “For us men and for our salvation He came down from Heaven, etc.” In the eighth and final session, the Council therefore also anathematized all who do not confess that “Christ our God is circumscribed according to His humanity.” The Greek word used here, “perigrapton – circumscribed”, is related to the verb “graphein – to write”, the term which is often used in Greek to refer to the painting of icons. None of this is accidental.

The famous icon of Christ the Pantocrator from the Monastery of St. Catherine on Mt Sinai, 6th century. The collection of icon at St. Catherine’s is particularly important, since it contains a large number of pieces that predate the iconoclast persecutions.

The liturgical texts proper to this commemoration make the point in a very interesting way. At Second Nicaea, the Patriarchs of Constantinople who had supported the iconoclast heresy were all condemned by name. However, they are not referred to in the liturgy, nor are the iconoclast emperors Leo the Isaurian, the real inventor and motivator of the heresy, and his two successors, Constantine V and Leo IV. (The traditional nickname of the second of these, “Copronymus”, means “dung-named” in Greek, a reference to what would now be called a diaper accident that occurred at his baptism; this was taken by those who honored the sacred images as a presage of his impiety. It occurs repeatedly in the Roman Martyrology, in reference to the many Saints killed or otherwise persecuted by him for the sake of the sacred images.)

It would be easy, but unjust, to see in this omission nothing more than an unwillingness to offend the offices of the Emperor and Patriarch. The greater truth taught by the Council, and by the Byzantine liturgy, is that the refusal of sacred images is a refusal of the Incarnation. To this point, therefore, the earlier Christological heretics are named repeatedly in the liturgy of the day, as in these texts from Vespers (bold texts are my emphases).

As true shepherds you bravely drove away those who are like Macedonius, Nestorius, Eutyches, Dioscorus, Apollinaris, Sabellius and Severus (of Antioch), exposed as dangerous wolves in sheepskins, far from the Savior’s flock, stripped of their fleeces, making them thrice-wretched; therefore we call you blessed.

Let us praise today the mystical trumpets of the Spirit, the God-bearing Fathers, who sang a harmonious melody of theology in the midst of the Church, to the one Trinity, unchanging Essence and Godhead; the overthrowers of Arius, the champions of the Orthodox, who intercede with the Lord that He may have mercy on our souls.

Holy Fathers, you have become sure guardians of the Apostolic traditions; for by teaching the orthodox doctrine of the consubstantiality of the Holy Trinity, you overthrew in council the blasphemy of Arius. With him you refuted Macedonius, the opponent of the Spirit, and condemned Nestorius, Eutyches and Dioscorus, Sabellius and Severus the Leaderless. We implore you: beg that we who have been delivered from their error may preserve our life spotless in the faith.

The following text, sung between the first and second parts of the doxology at the Aposticha, is particularly noteworthy. One might easily assume it was a part of the commemoration of the Fathers of the First Ecumenical Council on the Sunday after the Ascension, rather than that of today, again underlining the intrinsic connection between iconoclasm and Arianism, and between veneration of the images and the Incarnation. (A friend of mine who is a great scholar of the Byzantine liturgy tells me that this hymn may very well have been composed for the commemoration of the Fathers of First Nicaea, and later added to this feast.)

Let us with faith celebrate today the yearly commemoration of the God-bearing Fathers, who were assembled from the whole world in the radiant city of Nicaea, as we reverence the gatherings of the orthodox; for they, their minds attuned to true religion, overthrew the godless teaching of Arius, and in council banished him from the Catholic Church; and in the symbol of faith, which they precisely and devoutly laid down, they taught all to confess clearly the Son of God as consubstantial and co-eternal, and existing before the ages. And so we too, following their divine teachings and firm in our belief, worship the Son and the all-holy Spirit with the Father, in one Godhead, a consubstantial Trinity.

A 19th-century icon of the Fathers of the First Seven Ecumenical Councils. The Byzantine liturgy contains several such commemorations: of the fathers at First Nicaea, at Ephesus, at Second Nicaea, at the Seven Councils collectively.

Although Iconoclasm was definitively condemned at Second Nicaea, it was revived in the early 9th century for almost thirty years under the emperors Leo V (813-20), Michael II (820-29) and Theophilus (829-42). Shortly after Theophilus’ son Michael III, (the bearer of another unfortunate nickname, “the Drunkard”), came to the throne as a child of two, his mother and regent Theodora arranged for the definitive restoration of the icons at a synod in Constantinople. (Theodora is venerated as a saint in the Byzantine Rite.)

St. Theodora, Empress of Byzantium, in a 19th-century Greek icon.

The liturgical expression of this final victory is the celebration of the first Sunday of Lent as the “Feast of Orthodoxy.” On that day, the Byzantine liturgy reads a text known as the “Synodikon of Orthodoxy”, a collection of the anathemas of the first seven ecumenical councils. The text has been much altered and added to over the years, but the first rubric in one of the oldest manuscripts describes it thus: “A yearly thanksgiving is due to God on account of that day when we recovered the Church of God, with the demonstration of the dogmas of true religion and the overthrowing of the blasphemies of wickedness.”

The final eight anathemas are dedicated to the iconoclasts, (and the iconoclast patriarchs are named explicitly.) The first one says,

On those who accept with their reason the incarnate economy of God the Word, but will not allow that this can be beheld through images, and therefore affect to receive our salvation in words, but deny it in reality: Anathema!

And the second:

On those who wickedly make play with the word ‘uncircumscribed’ and therefore refuse to depict in images Christ, our true God, who likewise shared our flesh and blood, and therefore show themselves to be fantasiasts: Anathema!

“The Mystery of the Orthodox Liturgy”: A New Video about the Byzantine Rite

In February, we shared news of the publication of a handbook for the Byzantine Rite, entitled “The Divine Services of the Orthodox Church with Commentary”, from St Symeon of Thessalonica Press, a catechetical resource designed to guide both clergy and laity more deeply into the Orthodox liturgical cycle. St Symeon Press has recently released another very useful catechetical resource, a video which gives a tour through the Byzantine Divine Liturgy, written by the authors of the books, Frs Lucas Christensen, Joshua Genig and Patrick O’Grady, and Dr Emmanuel Melonakos. The authors write, “Our aim is to increase the catechesis of our people, helping the faithful to understand, love, and more deeply enter into the worship of the Church. We also hope for the growth of the liturgical movement in the West, particularly the recovery and flourishing of the ancient rites of the Latin Church.”

The book can be purchased in various formats through Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Divine-Services-Orthodox-Church-Commentary-Full/dp/B0GCYK7NJF?ref_=ast_author_mpb

The Feast of St Thecla, First-Martyr Among Women

In the Byzantine and Ambrosian Rites, today is the feast of the virgin and martyr St Thecla; in the Roman Rite, she is kept as a commemoration on the preceding day.

Image from Wikimedia Commons by Shesmax, CC BY-SA 3.0

Her story is told in a document known as the Acts of Paul and Thecla, generally dated to roughly 180 AD; the narration is often confused and disjointed, and I here give only a very basic summary of it. When St Paul went to Iconium (Acts 14, 1), he was received by a man named Onesiphorus, whose house (i.e. the community gathered in his house) is mentioned twice in II Timothy; in verse 3, 11, Paul also mentions “the persecutions and suffering such as I underwent at Antioch, Iconium and Lystra.” Inspired by his preaching particularly on the subject of virginity, one of the young women present, Thecla, determined not to marry the man to whom her parents had betrothed her, a nobleman called Thamyris. The latter, blaming Paul for his fiancée’s change of heart, hauled him before the city officials, who remanded the Apostle to prison. When Thecla visited Paul there, she was discovered by Thamyris, who then had them both brought before the governor of the city; Paul was scourged and expelled from Iconium, and Thecla condemned to be burnt alive.

As is so often the case, nature refused to cooperate with the persecutors of one of God’s Saints, and the fire was extinguished by a sudden rain. Thecla was then let go, and after finding Paul, accompanied him to Antioch, where she was assaulted by a powerful man named Alexander. For rebuffing his advances, she was twice condemned to the wild beasts, which on the first occasion refused to touch her; on the second, one of them, a lioness, defended her from the rest, and was herself killed in the process. The governor, impressed by this miracle, released her; she then went to find Paul again, catching up with him at Myra (later the see of St Nicholas). From there she returned to Iconium, and then went to Seleucia in Asia Minor, where she lived an ascetic life in a cave for 72 years.

The apse of the ruined church of St Thecla in Seleucia, built at the site of her cave by the Emperor Zeno ca. 475. (Image by Klaus-Peter Simon from Wikimedia Commons, GNU Free Documentation License.)

During her time at Seleucia, she made many converts to the Faith, and performed many miraculous healings, which raised the ire of the local pagan physicians. They therefore plotted to assault her, but she was protected from them when the rock wall of her cave opened up to receive her, and closed when she had passed into it. The story ends here, and seems to imply that this was the manner of her death. Her tomb at Seleucia became an important pilgrimage site, and was seen there in the 4th century by St Gregory of Nazianzus and the pilgrim Egeria among others.

This document has often been attributed, at least in its inspiration, to an heretical sect of the later 2nd-century called the Encratites (“the continent”, or more accurately, “the self-controlling”), who completely rejected the use of marriage. It is true that when he is preaching at the house of Onesiphorus, St Paul is represented delivering a set of Beatitudes partly of his own devising which lay strong emphasis on virginity: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God (Matt. 5, 8); blessed are they that have kept the flesh chaste, for they shall become a temple of God (1 Cor. 6, 18-19); blessed are they that control themselves, for God shall speak with them: … blessed are they that have wives as not having them, for they shall receive God for their portion (1 Cor. 7, 29) … blessed are the bodies of the virgins, for they shall be well pleasing to God, and shall not lose the reward of their chastity.” Shortly after this, Thecla’s mother, Theocleia, says to Thamyris, “(Paul) will overturn the city of the Iconians, and your Thecla too besides; for all the women and the young men go in beside him, being taught to fear God and to live in chastity.”

However, the Encratites taught that all sexual activity is intrinsically immoral, even within marriage, and that virginity or perfect continence is necessary for salvation. The “Beatitudes” given above do not say this, nor do they really stray from the words of Paul and Christ Himself in the canonical writings of the New Testament. In point of fact, the closest thing to the Encratite teaching within the story is not said by Paul or Thecla or the narrator, but rather by two characters called Demas and Hermogenes. These are described as “hypocrites” who are “jealous” of Paul, and attribute to him the belief that “(T)here is for you a resurrection in no other way, unless you remain chaste, and pollute not the flesh, but keep it chaste.” But of course, even these words can certainly be understood in a perfectly orthodox sense.

The Preaching of Ss Paul and Barnabas, by Giovanni Paolo Panini, 1744

At her second appearance in the arena with the wild beasts, Thecla baptizes herself by throwing herself into a ditch of water, saying “In the name of Jesus Christ I am baptized on my last day.” Later on, when she departs from Paul to return to Iconium, he says to her, “Go, and teach the word of God.” The first known reference to the Acts of Paul and Thecla is in the treatise On Baptism by Tertullian (cap. xvij in fine), who says that these episodes should not be used to justify women teaching and baptizing, since the document was forged by a priest in Asia Minor, who did this “out of love for Paul”, and having confessed to the forgery, was deposed from his office. St Jerome also refers to them as apocryphal, on the grounds that if they were not, St Luke would have included some mention of the episodes they narrate in the Acts (De viris illustr. 7); they are likewise rejected by a document of the 6th century known as the Gelasian Decree, which lists the books accepted and rejected by the Church.

Despite this diffidence towards the written account of her life, the Church’s tradition has accepted devotion to Thecla as a Saint. In a letter to one of his spiritual daughters, Jerome himself writes that on her death she will be received in heaven by the Virgin Mary, by Miriam, the sister of Moses, and by Thecla, who “shall fly with joy to embrace you.” (Ep. 22, ad Eustochium, cap. 41) St Ambrose, in his treatise On the Virgins (lib. II, 3, 19) also pairs Thecla with the Mother of God: “Let, then, holy Mary instruct you in the discipline of life, and Thecla teach you how to be offered (i.e. how to die), for she, avoiding nuptial intercourse, and condemned through her (would-be) husband’s rage, changed even the disposition of wild beasts by their reverence for virginity.” In his 14th sermon on the Song of Songs, St Gregory of Nyssa comments on the words “His lips are as lilies, dropping a rich myrrh” (5, 13) as follows: “(Myrrh) is contempt for this corporeal life … such myrrh did Paul pour forth from his mouth, mixed with the pure lily of temperance, into the ears of a holy virgin. This was Thecla, who, having nobly received these drops within her soul, mortified the outer man, and extinguished every carnal thought and desire.” (PG 44, 1067-68) Many other references might be adduced to the point.

St Thecla and the Wild Beats; relief probably made in Egypt n the 5th century, now at the Nelson Atkins Museum in Kansas City. (Photo from Wikimedia Commons by R. Huggins, CC BY-SA 3.0)

There is no reason to be surprised at this. Modern scholars of hagiography have long recognized that there are many Saints whose written lives as they have come down to us are, either wholly or in part, not reliable historical documents, but who are nevertheless themselves indisputably real. In St Thecla’s case, we may rightly say that the Church simply recognized this about her a very long time ago.

In the traditional Roman prayers for the dying, known as the “Commendation of a soul (to God)”, the last invocation is “And as Thou didst deliver Thy most blessed Virgin and Martyr Thecla from three most cruel torments, so may Thou deign to deliver the soul of this Thy servant, and cause him to rejoice with Thee in the goods of heaven.” Prior to the Tridentine reform, however, this was the only mention of her in the Roman liturgical books; although her feast was celebrated or commemorated almost everywhere else in Europe, in Italy, it was kept only at Milan. She was added to the Roman calendar as a commemoration on the feast of Pope St Linus on September 23, in the first liturgical book to be published after the council of Trent, the breviary issued by Pope St Pius V in 1568, followed two years later by his missal.

As with certain other Saints (Catherine of Alexandria, Gregory the Wonderworker, Timothy), the inclusion of Thecla on the Tridentine calendar is part of the Catholic Church’s answer to the ideas of the Protestants. Despite their supposed emphasis on the teachings of St Paul (whom Luther made the lens by which to read the rest of the Bible), the churches of the Reformation in practice rejected his teaching on virginity and continence from the very start, abolishing the discipline of clerical celibacy, and every form of monasticism or canonical life. This abolition in turn left no formal place at all for women in their institutional life. The figure of Thecla, a personal disciple of St Paul, therefore stands as a witness to the value of virginity, the apostolic origins of the Church’s teaching about it, and the importance of women in consecrated life as both leaders and teachers.

The Duomo of Milan as it stands today is the result of a project which began in 1386, to replace the two cathedrals which had hitherto served the see of St Ambrose. The “winter church” as it is still called in Ambrosian liturgical books, was the smaller of the two, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and used from the Third Sunday of October, the feast of its Dedication, until Holy Saturday; it stood where the modern cathedral stands, but was much smaller. The larger “summer church”, which was demolished in 1543, stood on the opposite end of the modern Piazza del Duomo; in the Carolingian period, it was endowed with a relic of St Thecla’s skull, and her name was added to its dedication. She is therefore included in the list of Saints in the Nobis quoque of the Ambrosian Mass; within the new church, a large altar is dedicated to her at the end of the left nave.

The altar of St Thecla in the Duomo of Milan, by Luigi Bisi, 1872

In the Byzantine Rite, Thecla is called a “Great Martyr”, the title of those who suffered many different torments, and “Equal to the Apostles.” The texts of her Office refer to her over 20 times as the “first martyr” or “first to contend”, not, of course, to the despite of St Stephen, but as the first among women. For this reason, in the preparation rite of the Divine Liturgy, she is named first among the female martyrs. At Vespers of her feast, one of the hymns sung during the major incensation of the church reads, “O Lord, though Thy chaste First-Martyr was given over to the fire, yet she was not burned up within it, having received Thee as a dewfall, and among the many wild beasts, she remained unassailed, protected by Thy hand, who art the Savior of our souls.”

The Audible Recitation of the Secret Priestly Prayers of the Divine Liturgy from an Empirical Perspective

St. Basil the Great praying during the Holy Anaphora (source)

A guest article by Pan. Papadimitriou, PhD

“Having shut thy door, pray to thy Father who is in secret”, Mat. 6:5–6
“While the Secret prayer is being performed” (St. Gregory of Nyssa, 4th c.)
“The first [prayer] silently/secretly”, 19^th Canon, The Council of Laodicea (364 A.D.)

A characteristic feature of the Orthodox is their adherence to Tradition. The observance of Holy Tradition is an apostolic command: “Stand fast, and hold the traditions” (2 Thess. 2, 15). “Let all things be done decently and in order” (1 Cor. 14, 40). In ministry within the Orthodox Church, each person does not simply act according to his own will; otherwise, in practice, he would be adopting a Protestant mentality. The Church is “following the Holy Fathers,” not following the personal opinions of each individual.

Why must the Tradition of the Church be observed? Holy Tradition is the secure path of the Church, the path of the Holy Fathers, the secure path of divine worship, prayer, repentance, purification, illumination, and deification.

The Tradition of the Divine Liturgy is as follows: the deacon proclaims aloud (eis epēkoon) the common prayers by way of exhortation, addressing the priest and the faithful; they, in response, pray secretly (inwardly, mentally) and individually—the priest with his own prayers, and the faithful with the silent Kyrie eleison (“Lord, have mercy”) or with their own prayers. The chanter responds aloud as the “guide” of the faithful in their prayerful responses to the deacon’s common prayer.

By the grace of God, all these prayers together ascend to God, not as separate prayers, but as one common and powerful prayer, as one common force. This means that even the smallest prayer of a spiritually negligent member of the faithful in church acquires greater boldness before God than when he prays alone at home—though home prayer must by no means be neglected—because he participates in the common prayer of the Church.

Let us not neglect prayer at home. Prayer at home strengthens our prayer in church, and prayer in church, in turn, strengthens our prayer at home. When repentance, forgiveness, guilelessness, love, and humility are also present, then our prayer acquires even greater power—always by the grace of God.

According to Ioannis Fountoulis, during his lifetime, the overwhelmingly predominant Tradition was the ancient Tradition of the prayers being recited secretly, silently, inwardly (not the modern innovation of their audible recitation): [1]

a) “A tradition extending over many centuries has, however, been formed concerning the secret reading of the prayers, and this today is the generally prevailing order throughout the entire Orthodox Church.”

b) “Quite early there prevailed the practice that the prayers of the Divine Liturgy be said secretly (μυστικῶς). Usually the priest said them at the time when the deacon was saying the synapte, in any case before the ekphonesis.”

c) “Secretly, as is well known, all the prayers of the Divine Liturgy are said today, except for the prayer Behind the Ambo [at the end].”

d) “Secretly are said the prayers which are addressed to God.” [Yet all prayers are addressed to God (!), not to men, but for men, for the world, etc.].

The audible recitation of the prayers in the Divine Liturgy was promoted in Greece mainly during approximately the last eighty years, and with particular intensity, publicity, and widespread diffusion after the repose of the late Archbishop Seraphim of Athens (+1998), by theologians, liturgists, and clergy (including Bishops) who were influenced by the preparatory developments leading up to the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), [2] and who in turn influenced numerous clergy and laypeople, who then influenced many others, down to the present day.

Unfortunately, in our time, many people, at every opportunity, whether appropriate or inappropriate, advocate the innovative practice of priests reciting their prayers aloud during the Divine Liturgy.

They say: “The priest should pray aloud, so that the faithful may hear him.”

Here we shall attempt to respond briefly to this argument, from an empirical point of view.

Response from the Perspective of Holy Tradition

There is no evidence in the Holy Tradition of the Church, with regard to the Divine Liturgy, that the priest recited the prayers audibly for the congregation to hear. On the contrary, their secret recitation is attested, either explicitly or implicitly. [3] Indeed, even the Hieratikon published by the Apostoliki Diakonia prior to 2002/2004 explicitly prescribed that the priestly prayers of the Divine Liturgy be recited secretly.

The Holy Synod of the Church of Greece, moreover, issued not one but three (3) Synodal Encyclicals addressed to those innovators who persisted in disobedience: Prot. No. 499 / 16 February 1951, Prot. No. 1353 / 9 June 1956, and Prot. No. 1137 / 13 March 1974—to ears unwilling either to hear or to understand. [4]

The faithful heard the common prayers proclaimed by the deacon, just as the priests heard them; and, in response, both the priests and the people [5] prayed secretly, inwardly. Only the chanter responded aloud, serving, as it were, as a “guide” for the faithful in their prayerful responses to the deacon’s prayer.

Of the priestly prayers, the faithful heard only the “later” prayer behind the Ambo at the conclusion of the Liturgy. [6] This is also why it was recited aloud in the middle of the church—so that the faithful could hear it, in an age before microphones and loudspeakers—with the priest always facing east, standing before the ambo, which at that time was located in the centre of the church (or “behind the ambo,” opisthambonos, if the ambo is viewed from the direction of the sanctuary).

Likewise, the priests do not hear the secret prayers of the faithful, nor those of the monks in monasteries; nor does any Orthodox Christian pray in church audibly for the person standing beside him to hear. For this reason, when the deacon addresses the assembly, he does not say: “In peace, pray to the Lord, Father! And you, faithful people, listen to the Father as he prays aloud!” Neither does he say: “In peace, you faithful, pray to the Lord!”

What, then, does he proclaim? He proclaims: “In peace, let us pray to the Lord!”

To whom does the deacon address the words “let us pray”? Naturally, to the priest and to the faithful people. [7] [8] [9]

Response from the Perspective of the Faithful (and of Monastics in Monasteries)

The innovators argue that the faithful—and, by extension, the monks in monasteries—should hear the secret prayers of the priest.

Even if we set aside the innovative character of this position, they do not explain what, precisely, the faithful (and the monks) are expected to do while the priest is reading the secret priestly prayer aloud. Are they to listen actively (that is, to reflect upon it intellectually—or how exactly is “actively” to be defined?), passively, or to follow the priestly prayers by reading them from the latest modernist editions of the “Hieratikon for the Faithful”? If their attention wanders for a moment, and they fail to hear or read one, two, or ten sentences of the priest’s prayer—or even the entire prayer—what then becomes of their “participation”?

Can the faithful truly pray while listening to the secret prayers of the priest, or are the faithful transformed into reflective listeners, then perhaps merely hearers, and eventually into indifferent spectators? [10] Prayer is not the hearing, comprehension, or interpretation of prayers, nor is it a form of theatrical observation. The liturgical Holy Tradition of the Church does not require the faithful to be present as hearers or interpreters of the priestly prayers, nor as spectators of the priests, but rather to participate prayerfully in the common prayer of the Church. What is required is that the whole Church pray together, heeding and responding to the common prayers proclaimed by the deacon, while each person prays secretly and inwardly (“the prayers of the multitude” and “the prayers of the priests,” as St John Chrysostom says; see also St Porphyrios). [11]

What power this common prayer possesses! The secret prayers of the priest and of the faithful, are neither competing nor disconnected prayers, but one common ecclesial prayer which, by the grace of God, ascends to God.

When, however, the listening—the recitation—becomes continuous, theologically and conceptually dense, and demanding of sustained attention, it hinders the inward prayer of the faithful and turns the believer into a listening observer. Yet the deacon said, “Let us pray to the Lord,” not “Pray, Father!” The faithful, too, must pray secretly and inwardly; and when the priest prays aloud, he makes that inward prayer more difficult, whether knowingly or unknowingly—especially when microphones are used.

It is for this reason that the great practitioner of prayer, the dispassionate and watchful Saint of our own times, St Joseph the Hesychast, called out to the hieromonk: “Do not shout, Father; say them quietly, just as it is written in the Hieratikon, that they are to be said secretly.” [12] [13]

The same difficulty caused by a priest praying aloud affects not only the faithful, but also concelebrating Presbyters who wish to pray together. In earlier practice, the Tradition of priestly Concelebration was that each priest (and each Bishop) would recite the secret priestly prayers privately, [14] just as each member of the faithful (and each monastic) prays privately, in accordance with the commandment of the Lord: “shut thy door and pray to thy Father.”

Yet, although all pray individually within the Church—priests and faithful alike—responding to the common prayers proclaimed by the deacon, nevertheless one prayer, one spiritual force, ascends to God!

“Let the whole body of the Church, with one accord, offer up the supplication with one voice, the priests being present and presenting the prayers of the common multitude,” Chrysostom [PG 56, 182]; cf. [PG 48, 725]. That is: “the supplication is offered by the multitude of the faithful, by the body of the Church, with one soul, in the presence of the priests, who offer to God the prayers of the congregation.” [15] This also explains the plural forms found in the priestly prayers, which the innovators misinterpret. The plural signifies that the priest also presents the prayers of the faithful; it does not signify that the secret priestly prayers must be made audible to the faithful. [16]

Even if the faithful person wishes, or attempts, to pray while listening to the priest’s secret prayer (where it is recited aloud), his mind is drawn away from his own prayer in order to follow and understand what he is hearing, insofar as he is able to do so and insofar as his theological and spiritual formation permits. Even if the faithful person holds before him the text of the secret priestly prayer, or reads it in a Modern Greek translation, [17] he may still fall into the same—and even greater—distractions: he tries to read, to listen, not to lose his place, to study, to reflect, to comprehend intellectually the theological meanings, to notice any possible errors on the part of the priest or in the text itself, or to assess whether the priest is reading correctly and conveying the meaning properly, while at the same time attempting to … pray. If he is also reading from a mobile phone, the situation is even worse. This, however, is not prayer, but at best auditory or intellectual following. In short, the innovators bind heavy burdens and lay them on men’s shoulders.

What is prayer? “prayer is the ascent of the mind to God, or the asking of fitting things from God,” St John of Damascus [PG 94, 1089C–D, ch. 64]. [18] In the Divine Liturgy, such asking consists in the personal prayerful response directed to God in response to the common prayer proclaimed by the deacon (or in each person’s own private petitions); it does not consist in listening to the priest’s prayer. Likewise, the “ascent of the mind to God” [19] is the mind’s speaking to God, for “prayer is the mind’s speaking to God” (Evagrius/Nilus) [PG 79, 1168C, ch. 3]. There is, of course, also an ascent of the mind to God without verbal speaking. [20]

If, when speaking to a prime minister, a ruler, or someone whom we hold in high esteem, we naturally adopt an appropriate disposition, how much more should this be so in our speaking—our prayer—to God.

Metropolitan Athanasios of Limassol says: “In essence, the Saints do not think; they pray. [21] That is, discursive thought is set aside, and prayer remains—prayer which is a question addressed to God and an answer received from God. Such are perfect humans beings, those who are in Christ.” [22]

The faithful person—and especially, as is often the case, the young person—does himself a disservice when he uses a modernist “Hieratikon for the faithful” during the Divine Liturgy. He remains present throughout the service, yet in practice, because of the distractions involved, it becomes difficult for him to pray truly.

By the grace of God, you will understand the Divine Liturgy more deeply and more correctly by participating in it through your secret prayer than by reading about it—although reading is, of course, also very beneficial, provided that the book contains no errors, but this should be done outside the service and outside the church. “prayer enlightens the human person. If a person prays, then he will receive assurance from God.” [23] It is also necessary, however, to cultivate virtue, so that prayer may have power [PG 61, 398].

Of course, the priestly exclamations, blessings, the exhortations that properly belong to the Tradition of the Church—not the modernist “all together”—the readings, the troparia, and so forth, which the Church’s Tradition has wisely incorporated into the order of the Divine Liturgy, and which serve as doxology and catechesis while at the same time, by the grace of God, spiritually strengthening the faithful for more attentive prayer, these are traditionally proclaimed aloud, not secretly.

Response from the Perspective of the Priests

The priest’s audible prayer during the Divine Liturgy is not only contrary to Tradition, [24]  and contrary to the canonical order, [25] nor does it merely distract the praying faithful from their secret (inward) prayer; it also distracts the priest himself. The “[audible] recitation of the prayers for the congregation to hear requires rhetorical projection, modulation of the voice, and often a pompous style and other ‘dramatic’ abilities—elements that stand in sharp contrast to the solemn and compunctious atmosphere required for the celebration of the Mysteries of the Church.” [26]

In this respect, the audible recitation of the secret priestly prayers may transform prayer into a concern with being heard, a rhetorical performance, or a liturgical presentation. The priest runs the risk of ceasing to be a praying celebrant and becoming instead a reader.

As a praying celebrant, however, he approaches “the throne of the grace of God with boldness, with a true heart, in full assurance of faith, speaking to God and conversing alone with Him” [PG 98, 429A].[27] We have already discussed priestly Concelebration in §B.

A characteristic rubric (instruction) found in the Euchologia states that the priest prays while bowed,[28] or, more specifically, that “the priest, inclining himself, prays,” naturally in secret. [29] This posture is, moreover, also depicted in iconography. This bowed posture of the praying priest, as a bodily expression of restraint and reverence, is not suited to the public delivery of speech before an audience, but rather to secret prayer addressed to God.

This also accords with the patristic interpretation of the Divine Liturgy, and especially of the Holy Anaphora, according to which the priest “alone to the Alone, he speaks mysteries to God, uttering them in mystery [secretly]” [30] and is “conversing alone with Him.” [31]

Thus, the priest who recites the secret priestly prayers of the Divine Liturgy aloud for the express purpose of making them heard by the people does an injustice first of all to himself; he also does an injustice to the faithful, depriving them of true prayer and making them, willingly or unwillingly, hearers of his secret prayers—something that would rightly be regarded as disorderly if the faithful or monastics themselves were to do the same by loudly voicing their own secret prayers. Most importantly, however, he does an injustice to the whole Church by diminishing the power of her prayer. The weakening of the Church’s prayer may be observed on the personal, ecclesiastical, social, national, and global levels.

At the same time, the audible recitation of the priestly prayers of the Divine Liturgy may conceal a form of clericalism. Clericalism does not consist in the secret prayer of the priests—the people also pray secretly—but, on the contrary, in their deliberate, often affected, and contrary-to-Tradition audible prayer, when it is performed for the purpose of drawing the congregation’s attention to the celebrant, with the result that the faithful are hindered from praying truly.

To God be the glory for all things.

For futher reading:

Pan. Papadimitriou, “Let Us Pray to the Lord”: Neither “Pray Thou, Father” nor “Pray Ye, Faithful” (Secret prayers), [PDF], translated from the 3rd Greek edition, 15/5/2026.

Our liturgical articles [in Greek] (available in Ἀναλόγιον [32], and in Academia [33]).

NOTES

[1] Ioannis M. Fountoulis, Answers to Liturgical Questions, vol. V (2003), nos. 551–553, p. 201; vol. II (1994), no. 235, p. 229; vol. V (2003), nos. 551–553, p. 192; vol. V (2003), no. 558, p. 222.

[2] The Second Vatican Council took place between 1962 and 1965. It was, however, based upon the corresponding publications and movements of liturgists that had developed over many years beforehand within the Western-inspired so-called liturgical renewal. It was upon these publications of Western liturgists that Trembelas relied—and by which he was influenced—when he wrote, on p. 61 of his book The Roman Liturgical Movement and the Practice of the East (Athens, 1949):

“For the immediate and active participation of the people in the celebration of the Mysteries, and especially of the Divine Eucharist, and for the restoration of the unity (sic) between the altar and the people, the Roman Catholic liturgical movement advocated, as we have said, that the celebrant should turn toward the congregation during the Anaphora and should read the prayers of the Divine Liturgy in a voice audible to the people.”

The Second Vatican Council was cautious and highly diplomatic on the question of the Prayers—in order to avoid reactions from its own “traditionalists”—and simply condensed all the innovations that had appeared in the West up to that time into the diplomatic expression “active participation” of the people, leaving its “interpretation” to a later stage. Those who came afterwards “interpreted” “active participation” in the same manner as those who had interpreted it before the Second Vatican Council (cf. Trembelas), namely, as requiring the Prayers to be recited aloud. The same term and the same interpretation are also given by our own contemporary so-called liturgical reformers.

More precisely, the Second Vatican Council states verbatim in Sacrosanctum Concilium (4 December 1963), under the heading “II. The Promotion of Liturgical Instruction and Active Participation”: “all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations.”

The Western-inspired liturgical mentality, and our own so-called liturgical reformers who follow it, understand the “active participation” of the people in the Liturgy as an auditory, intellectual, and theatrical participation. Hence the audible prayers; hence also the occasional anti-traditional celebration, even within Orthodoxy, of the Divine Liturgy, Memorial services, Holy Unction, the Blessing of Waters, and other services facing westward—that is, with the priest turned not eastward in prayer, but toward the people; hence also the practice of “everyone together,” and so forth.

Orthodox “active participation,” however, is pre-eminently “participation in prayer.” And prayer is secret, according to the word of the Lord (Matt. 6:5–6).

[3] Pan. Papadimitriou, While the Deacon Recites the Prayer, the priest Prays the Prayer, 30 October 2022.

[4] The fact that repeated and stringent Synodal interventions were deemed necessary indicates that the innovative practice was not an isolated or accidental phenomenon, but rather a persistent and organized liturgical deviation.

[5] “And let all the faithful pray for them secretly (in their minds, inwardly), saying: Lord, have mercy” [PG 1, 1076–1077]. The Holy Apostles: “while all the people stand and pray quietly” [PG 1, 737]. St Clement: “Let us therefore, having gathered together in concord in one place, cry out earnestly to Him in our conscience, as though from one mouth, that we may become partakers of His great and glorious promises” [PG 1, 277]. For further discussion, see our article on Canon XIX of the Council of Laodicea, especially notes 11 and 15, concerning prayer kata dianoian (“in the mind”, secretly).

[6] This Prayer was added to the Liturgy on account of certain inquisitive persons who active contended against not knowing what was taking place [St Germanos, Archbishop of Constantinople (640–740), PG 98, 452C], a type of persons that has never entirely disappeared from the life of the Church throughout the centuries. See also Presbyter G. Diamantopoulos, The Theological Basis for the Concealment of What Is Performed in the Sanctuary according to St Niketas Stethatos, paper presented at the conference of the Estia of Patristic Studies, In the Aftermath of Liturgical Renewal: Disturbances in Divine Worship, 11 June 2023.

[7] Pan. Papadimitriou, “Let Us Pray to the Lord”: Neither “Pray Thou, Father” nor “Pray Ye, Faithful” (Secret Prayers), [PDF], translated from the 3rd Greek edition, 15/5/2026.

[8] St John Chrysostom: “For the expression ‘Let us pray’ is addressed not only to the priests, but also to those who constitute the [faithful] people” [PG 61, 399].

[9] “The expression ‘let us pray,’ just like ‘let us stand aright,’ which we hear in the Church, is addressed not only to the priests, but also to the congregation, the people,” Panagiotis G. Stamou, John Chrysostom: Prayer — The All-Powerful Weapon of the Faithful, Athens 1988, p. 34.

[10] An anonymous priest wrote in a comment on a post on the Anastasios blog: “Whether the [aloud secret priestly] Prayers help toward an understanding of worship and the participation of the people is clearly shown by the manner in which Christians participate in the Mysteries of Baptism and Marriage, and in funerals, where they hear everything proclaimed aloud. No compunction, no sense of the sacred space.” (accessed 27 May 2026).

[11] See Sections §B and §C of the article: Let Us Pray to the Lord: Neither “Pray, Father” nor “You, the Faithful, Pray”, 3rd ed., 15 May 2026.

[12] Elder Ephraim of Philotheou, My Elder Joseph the Hesychast and Cave-Dweller (1897–1959), Monastery of St Anthony, Arizona, USA, 9th ed., 2019, p. 160.

[13] Pan. Papadimitriou, Contemporary (Saintly) Elders and the Secret Prayers, 8 February 2022; Orthodoxos Typos, 13–27 January 2023, nos. 2431–2433.

[14] Pan. Papadimitriou, priestly Concelebration — A Comparison of Rubrics, Hieratika, and Commentary, 21 December 2022.

[15] Panagiotis G. Stamou, John Chrysostom: Prayer — The All-Powerful Weapon of the Faithful, Athens, 1988, p. 31.

[16] In other words, according to the innovators’ interpretation, if the faithful pray, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on the priest,” or “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on us,” must these prayers also be made audible to the priest and to the faithful standing nearby simply because they are expressed in the plural? Or, in the absence of a microphone for the faithful, should they approach the priest and whisper into his ear that they are now praying for him?

[17] The question of rendering the texts into Modern Greek is a separate matter. Even the [Greek] New Testament [in Greece] has not been translated in a single universally accepted form, and there are numerous Modern Greek versions of it—one by Zoe, another by Soter, another by Stavros, another by the Apostoliki Diakonia, and so forth. If one turns to published global English translations and paraphrases—now approaching some 900 in number—there is, even in English, still no single official Orthodox translation.

[18] See also: “Prayer is the ascent of the mind to God” (Evagrius/Nilus), [PG 79, 1173, ch. 35].

[19] “For the mind is the eye and the purest part of the soul” [PG 95, 144B]. “for just as the eye is to the body, so the mind is to the soul”, [PG 94, 924B].

[20] Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos and Agios Vlasios, Empirical Dogmatics of the Orthodox Catholic Church, according to the Oral Teachings of Fr John Romanides, vol. I, 2nd ed., 2011, Holy Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos, p. 109.

[21] “Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thess. 5:17–18). Pray without ceasing, especially during the Church services.

[22] Homily on Prayer, 52:38 (First Series—lectures at the University of Cyprus, Nicosia).

[23] Homily on Prayer, 52:29 (First Series—lectures at the University of Cyprus, Nicosia).

[24] Ioannis Fountoulis: “A tradition regarding the secret recitation of the Prayers has, however, been established for centuries, and today this is the generally prevailing order throughout the entire Orthodox Church.”

[25] Pan. Papadimitriou, Canon XIX of the Council of Laodicea (364) and the Recitation of the Liturgical Prayers, 3 April 2022.

[26] Protopresbyter Alexandros K. Karapanagopoulos, The Divine Liturgy (Introduction – Text – Interpretation), Athens, 1975, p. 12.

[27] Pan. Papadimitriou, The invisible of the Altar (hidden Sanctuary) …, chs. 53, 65, p. 242.

[28] In earlier times, the people too bowed deeply at the reading of the Gospel and at the “Your own of Your own” (Ta Sa ek ton Son).

[29] Pan. Papadimitriou, While the Deacon Recites the Prayer, the priest Prays the Prayer, 30 October 2022.

[30] [PG 98, 429A]. The invisible of the Altar (hidden Sanctuary) …, chs 53, 65, p. 242.

[31] In earlier times, the curtains of the sacred Ciborium over the Holy Altar were closed, with the priest praying within during the Holy Anaphora. See The invisible of the Altar (hidden Sanctuary) …, chs. 11.2, p. 117.

[32] analogion.gr/typikon/liturgy-articles.

[33] independent.academia.edu/ΠΔΠ/Liturgical.

Liturgical Notes on the Nativity of the Virgin Mary

Advent is considered the start of the Roman Rite’s liturgical year as a matter of logic and convention, but is not formally designated as such in the liturgy itself. In the Byzantine Rite, on the other hand, the liturgical year has a formally designated beginning on September 1st, a custom which has its origin in an ancient Roman cycle of taxation known as the Indiction. This was celebrated as the civil New Year in the Byzantine Empire until the fall of Constantinople in 1453, and in the Russian Empire until 1699, when it was changed by Tsar Peter I as part of his Westernizing reforms. The Indiction is still mentioned repeatedly in the liturgical texts of September 1, as in this Idiomel for Matins.

Thy kingdom, Christ God, is the kingdom of all the ages, and Thy dominion is from generation to generation; Thou hast made all things in wisdom, fixing for us times and seasons; therefore we thank Thee for all things and through all things we cry out: Bless the crown of the year with Thy goodness and grant that we may all cry out to Thee without condemnation: Lord, glory to Thee! (Psalm 144, 13; 103, 24; 64, 12)

The Byzantine tradition distinguishes twelve feasts, eight of Our Lord and four of Our Lady, as “Great Feasts”, with Easter in a category of its own as the Feast of Feasts. Whether by design or coincidence, the first of these in the liturgical year is also the first chronologically, the Nativity of the Virgin on September 8th. This event does not of course occur in the Bible, but is first mentioned in the popular apocryphal work known as the Protoevangelium of James. The precise origin of the feast is a matter of speculation, and the reason for the choice of date is unknown. It was celebrated at Constantinople by the 530s, when St Romanus the Melodist composed a hymn for it; by the seventh century, it had passed to the West, and Pope St Sergius I (687-701) decreed that it be should celebrated with a procession from the church of St Adrian (who shares his feast day with the Birth of the Virgin) to St Mary Major. It would seem, however, that it was rather slower to be accepted than the other early Marian feasts, the Purification, Annunciation and Assumption, since it is not mentioned in some important early liturgical books. Thus we find it included in the oldest manuscript of the Gelasian Sacramentary in roughly 750 A.D., but missing from the calendar in some later books.

A 16th-century icon of the Birth of the Virgin.

From the Byzantine Rite, the Roman borrowed the following troparion as the antiphon at the Magnificat for Second Vespers, surely one of the most beautiful of the entire Gregorian reportoire.

Ἡ γέννησίς σου Θεοτόκε, χαρὰν ἐμήνυσε πάσῃ τῇ οἰκουμένῃ· ἐκ σοῦ γὰρ ἀνέτειλεν ὁ Ἥλιος τῆς δικαιοσύνης, Χριστὸς ὁ Θεὸς ἡμῶν· καὶ λύσας τὴν κατάραν, ἔδωκε τὴν εὐλογίαν· καὶ καταργήσας τὸν θάνατον, ἐδωρήσατο ἡμῖν ζωὴν τὴν αἰώνιον.
Nativitas tua, Dei Genitrix Virgo, gaudium annuntiavit universo mundo: ex te enim ortus est sol justitiae, Christus Deus noster: qui solvens maledictionem, dedit benedictionem, et confundens mortem, donavit nobis vitam sempiternam.
Thy birth, O Virgin Mother of God, proclaimed joy to the whole world; for from Thee arose the sun of righteousness, Christ our God; who released us from the curse, and gave us blessing; and confounding death, He granted us eternal life.

A tradition of the church of Angers in France claims that the feast was instituted by a bishop of that see in the early fifth century, St Maurilius, in consequence of an apparition of the Virgin vouchsafed to him. Another version of the story, also associated by some authors with St Maurilius, claims that a hermit who lived near Angers heard angels singing on September 8th to celebrate the birth upon earth of the Queen of Heaven. However, St Fulbert of Chartres, (ca. 960-1028) speaks of it as a feast of recent institution, and his three sermons on the subject are the oldest genuine Latin homilies on the feast. In the first of these, he says, “After some of Her other, more ancient feasts, the devotion of the faithful was not content, unless it could add to them today’s feast of Her Birth.”

Ironically, it was another sermon of St Fulbert, preached not on the Nativity, but on the Annunciation, which became the standard medieval Office sermon for the feast, since it was included among the sermons of St Augustine. This inclusion was perhaps not an accident, but a way of adding greater authority to the work of a “new” author on a new custom. (It is still to this day noted as “A Sermon of St Augustine” in the Breviary of the Extraordinary Form.) This text would have a huge fortune in the history of Marian devotion, since a part of the peroration became one of the most commonly used texts for antiphons and responsories of the Virgin Mary.

Sancta Maria, succurre miseris, juva pusillanimes, refove flebiles, ora pro populo, interveni pro clero, intercede pro devoto femineo sexu. Sentiant omnes tuum juvamen, quicumque celebrant tuam commemorationem.
Holy Mary, come to the aid of the wretched, help the weak in spirit, refresh the mournful, pray for the people, intervene for the clergy, intercede for all devout women. May all those who celebrate the commemoration of Thee perceive Thy aid.

The words occurring before and after these were often used in France as lessons for Matins in the Little Office of the Virgin Mary, as for example in the Cistercian Use, which, with characteristic austerity, proposes the same single lesson every day.

Admitte, piissima Dei Genitrix, preces nostras intra sacrarium tuæ exauditionis, et reporta nobis antidotum reconciliationis. Sit per te excusabile quod per te ingerimus: fiat impetrabile quod fida mente poscimus. Accipe quod offerimus, redona quæ rogamus, excusa quod timemus.
Most holy Mother of God, admit our prayers into the holy place where Thou may hear them, and bring us the remedy of reconciliation. Through Thee, may all be forgiven, that we place therein also through Thee; and what we ask with confidence become obtainable. Receive what we offer, grant in return what we ask, obtain pardon for what we fear.

The upper part of the Tree of Jesse window, one of the most famous and best preserved of the stained glass windows in the cathedral of Chartres, from the end of the 12th century.

At the Papal conclave of 1241, one of the most difficult in the Church’s history, the cardinals were forcibly enclosed in a ruined Roman building known as the Septizodium, then a thousand years old, under such rough conditions that one of their number died. This was done by another cardinal, Matteo Orsini, in an attempt to force the election of a Pope favorable to certain interests which he backed. The cardinals vowed to honor the feast of the Virgin Mary’s Nativity by granting it an octave, if She would lead them to agreement on a candidate and obtain their deliverance; the liturgical commentator William Durandus, writing at the end of the century, notes that the Pope thus elected, Celestine IV, died after a reign of two-and-a-half weeks, and it was left to his successor, Innocent IV, to fulfill the vow.

As a “new” feast, the Nativity of the Virgin was never kept with a vigil in the Roman Rite, i.e., a fast on the day before, accompanied by a Mass in violet after None, and without the Gloria in excelsis, Alleluia or Creed. (The same holds true even for the medieval feast par excellence, Corpus Christi.) In the Ambrosian Rite, however, it is kept with such a vigil, as a feast of particular importance, the titular feast of the cathedral. On the façade over the central door is a large plaque with the two words “Mariae Nascenti - To Mary as She is born.”

On both the vigil and feast, a lesson is read which very cleverly links two Biblical passages traditionally associated with the Virgin Mary, the sixth chapter of the Song of Songs, and the twenty-fourth of Ecclesiasticus.

Thus sayeth Wisdom: Song 6, 8-9 She is the only one of her mother, the chosen of her that bore her. The daughters saw her, and declared her most blessed: the queens and concubines, and they praised her. Who is she that cometh forth as the morning rising, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army set in array? Eccli. 24, 24-28 I am the mother of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and of holy hope. In me is all grace of the way and of the truth, in me is all hope of life and of virtue. Come over to me, all ye that desire me, and be filled with my fruits. For my spirit is sweet above honey, and my inheritance above honey and the honeycomb. My memory is unto everlasting generations.

The Protoevanglium of James mentioned above is also the source for the names of the Virgin’s parents, Ss. Joachim and Anna. Because it is an apocryphal Gospel, their feasts were suppressed from the Roman Rite in the reform of St Pius V, along with the Virgin’s Presentation in the Temple, which is also first mentioned therein. This went far too strongly against the grain of traditional piety, and all three feasts were swiftly restored, St Anne’s by Pius’ own successor, Gregory XIII, in 1584, the Presentation by Sixtus V the following year, and St Joachim by Gregory XV in 1622. In the Roman Rite, his feast was assigned to the Sunday within the Octave of the Assumption, and later fixed by St Pius X to August 16th. The Ambrosians, however, placed it on September 9th, the day after the Virgin’s Nativity; arguably a more reasonable choice, since the ancient tradition was that Joachim and Anne were both quite elderly at the time of the Virgin’s birth, making it certain that neither was still alive at the time of the Assumption.

The Descent of the Virgin from St Anne, by Gerard David, ca. 1490

On both feasts, in both the Roman and Ambrosian liturgies, the Gospel is the genealogy of Christ from the beginning of St Matthew, chapter 1, 1-16. From ancient times, it was understood that this Gospel, in tracing the royal descent of St. Joseph, shows that the Virgin Mary is also descended from King David, to whom the promise of the Messiah was made. Since Joseph is commended as a just man, he would not transgress the law that a Jew must marry within his own tribe, and therefore Mary must also be of the tribe of David. A passage to this effect from St John Damascene’s book “On the Orthodox Faith” (book 4, 15) is read in the Roman Breviary on the feast of St Joachim.

On September 12th, 1683, the combined armies of the Holy Roman Empire and the Kingdom of Poland defeated the invading armies of the Ottoman Empire at the gates of Vienna, a battle which would prove to be the high-water mark of the Turkish invasion of Europe. The King of Poland and commander of the Christian armies, Jan III Sobieski, had placed his troops under the special protection of the Virgin Mary, as they rode to the defence of Christendom. In thanksgiving for the victory, therefore, Blessed Innocent XI (1676-89) extended to the universal calendar the feast of the Holy Name of Mary, thitherto kept only in Spain and Naples. It was originally assigned to the Sunday within the Octave of the Nativity of the Virgin, but later fixed by St Pius X to September 12th. (The reform of 1911 abolished the once-common custom of fixing feasts to particular Sundays, with a few exceptions.) In the Calendar of 1969, the feasts of the Holy Name of Jesus and of Mary were both abolished, one of the reformers’ worst decisions, happily undone by St John Paul II in 2002. In the interim, it continued to be observed as the titular feast of many churches of the Virgin Mary, especially in Italy.

King Jan Sobieski Victorious at the Gates of Vienna, by Jan Matejko, 1883. In the middle, King Jan hands to a Dominican friar a message to deliver to the Pope, announcing the victory; on the right, Leopold I, Archduke of Austria and Holy Roman Emperor, doffs his hat to him. The artist, himself a Pole, painted this in commemoration of the 200th anniversary of the battle, by which time the Kingdom of Poland had been partitioned between Austria, Russia and Prussia, and no longer existed as an independent state; he is here reminding the Austrians that their position as a dominant power in Central Europe was due in no small measure to the military might of the Poles, now in part their subjects. This painting was donated to the Vatican Museums by the artist, on condition that it always be prominently displayed; on the frame (not seen here) are medallion portraits of Bl. Innocent XI and the then-reigning Pope, Leo XIII. A copy of this image in silver relief was placed over the grave of King Jan in the cathedral of Krakow.