A Reconstruction of an Archaic Rite of Holy Communion (Part 3): Further Evidence

We are very pleased to share the final part of this essay by Zsolt Orbán: part one was published last week, and part two yesterday.

Elements supporting the above, which survive to this day in various liturgical traditions

1. The right palm held in the left hand

Naturally, on this point I do not assume that the hand position used in today’s ecclesiastical practice of communion in the hand is identical to that of antiquity, since the modern sacramental hand position – more precisely, the reception of the Eucharist by hand – differs substantially from the ancient sacrifice, despite the physical similarity of the hand positions.

The right palm, held in the left hand and turned upwards, is the traditional hand posture still found in today’s Orthodox tradition; however, this is naturally not used during the distribution of communion, but rather during blessings: for this is the hand posture for requesting a blessing – the gesture of the person asking for it.

2. The paten on the table

Among the textual sources, I mentioned above the letter of Bishop Dionysius of Alexandria, in which the sacrificial rite is alluded to; I believe this rite can be reconstructed in this paper based on the evidence provided by the images. To support this, I cite as an example the liturgy of the Copts, the modern heirs of the Alexandrian liturgical tradition, in which several elements can be identified that refer to what is depicted in the material artefacts and can be traced back to the practice depicted.

In the Codex Rossanensis, at the moment after the delivery of the Holy Body, Christ does not hold the paten in His hand, but rather takes the particle from the paten resting on the altar. Just as the Copts do in the video clip above.

3. The left palm of the celebrant

Christ places the piece taken with His right hand into the apostle’s mouth, whilst, as seen in the scene from the Codex Rossanensis, he holds his left palm protectively beneath it. After the communion, he continues to hold his left palm upwards, with his fingers slightly bent – so that no crumbs would be lost. Just as Coptic priests do: the video shows the way the priest holds his left palm. This seems very reminiscent of Christ, as seen in the enlarged image from the Rossano Codex above.

4. The communion cloth alluding to the ancient use of the himation

The small cloth worn by the communicant in the Coptic video also seems to evoke the himation seen in the images above. I believe that the changes in dress over the past one and a half thousand years may in themselves explain the replacement of the himation – that is, the ancient outer garment – during the Eucharist: the need to use a cloth, arising from reverence for the Eucharist, may have been stronger than the absence resulting from the disappearance of the himation due to changes in dress. However, the natural process of classifying items associated with the liturgy as sacred may also have led to the emergence of a cloth specifically intended for this purpose in liturgical use.

A communion shawl with a similar function is also used in the Byzantine liturgy, as can be clearly seen in the last video.

Among Ethiopian Christians (Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church), the himation – which has become entirely liturgical in purpose – has also been preserved under the name netela: both men and women wear it in church. This short video discusses how this shawl is worn and its spiritual significance:

5. The holy kiss

I have not found any trace of the kissing of the priest’s hand after communion in the various liturgical traditions, but in the Orthodox tradition there is another form of holy kiss that follows directly after Communion: after receiving the sacred species, the faithful kiss the base of the chalice. The holy kiss given to the base of the chalice, reminiscent of the himation, together with the use of a cloth identical to it in terms of its liturgical function:

Although this kiss differs from the presumed practice described in this text, in which a kiss might have been given to the right hand of the ministering priest, this may be explained by the change in the manner of communion under the two species compared to ancient practice. The distribution of the Body, placed in the Precious Blood, using a spoon – directly into the communicant’s mouth – eliminated the possibility of kissing the priest’s hand, as this could have endangered the contents of the chalice.

But the need to express the spiritual significance embodied in the kiss sought and found a place.

Concluding Remarks

The famous quote from Saint Basil (Letter 93) demonstrates that communion on the tongue was the normative mode of receiving the Eucharist in the Church from the beginning. Ecclesiastical practice deviated from this only under extraordinary circumstances, such as during times of persecution or a shortage of priests, and even then only temporarily (at the time the letter was written, around 372 AD, the practice of the lay faithful taking the Eucharist home was customary only in Alexandria). Despite this, the narrative of "communion in the hand" became dominant in the second half of the twentieth century, inextricably linked to the liturgical reform. The architects of the latter were enthusiastic proponents of this narrative (see, e.g., this article by Annibale Bugnini), which explains why today almost every scholarly textbook and popular publication treats it as a self-evident fact that communion on the tongue was unknown until the 8th or 9th century. Consequently, every written source is interpreted through the lens of this narrative. This, however, distorts the accurate understanding of historical reality and, by extension, hinders the return to correct ecclesiastical practice.

Therefore, it is crucial for researchers to finally re-examine the ancient sources allegedly proving the exclusivity or primacy of communion in the hand. They must thoroughly undertake the work that has been neglected for sixty years, researching actual ecclesiastical practice supported by the analysis of other available historical remains. Anyone who has examined in detail the ‘justifying’ textual interpretations and citations of Bugnini or the frequently cited Dom Ambrois Verheul OSB (La communion dans la main, in: Les questions liturgiques et paroissiales 50 (1969), pp. 115–122) can see their tendentious nature; thus, one can be confident that this narrative can be successfully refuted if the necessary time is dedicated to it.

In the preceding sections, I have addressed textual witnesses only partially; instead, I have attempted to reconstruct a probable ancient rite of communion based on the earliest surviving depictions of authentic liturgical scenes. Far from being contradicted, this reconstruction is rendered more plausible by even the most frequently cited textual sources of the ‘communion in the hand’ narrative, while elements preserved in various liturgical traditions support it in detail. I have done this in the hope of providing inspiration and insights to researchers, whose efforts are essential if a history of the concrete liturgical forms of receiving Holy Communion is to be compiled in accordance with historical reality.

A Reconstruction of an Archaic Rite of Holy Communion (Part 2): Insight into St. Cyril of Jerusalem’s Famous Text

The following essay is by Zsolt Orbán. Read Part 1 here.

The Testimony of Written Records

One might naturally ask: If Communion truly occurred in the way we described at the end of our first part, based on the Rossano Codex, the Riha paten, and the Stuma paten, why is there no written confirmation of such a practice?

In fact, such confirmation may well exist. To be sure, we lack a direct and unambiguous primary source that explicitly states – alongside other elements of the reconstructed rite – that “the priest places the Holy Body upon the believer’s tongue.” Nowhere is this ritual described in every minute detail; indeed, this very silence justifies the reconstruction attempted here.

At first glance, the available written records seem to confirm this rite only indirectly, insofar as they do not exclude, but rather permit, the interpretation I have presented. However, upon closer inspection, looking beyond popular translations that often embed their own interpretations, we find confirmation for this rite in the most unexpected places.

In the next section, while listing elements of the rite that survive to this day, I will demonstrate that most components of this reconstructed ritual have been preserved in the Coptic Liturgy. Since Christian liturgical traditions prior to the Novus Ordo did not develop ex nihilo, it is likely that the Coptic tradition did not emerge ex nihilo either, but was characterized by a continuity faithful to its origins. Consequently, elements of today’s practice may well have ancient roots.

If this is the case, the few remaining textual witnesses may indeed validate the reconstruction. Therefore, as witnesses to the reconstructed rite, I cite a frequently invoked Alexandrian example from Eusebius, and one from Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, along with a Syriac text often mentioned as another ancient precedent for the practice.

In his Historia ecclesiastica, Eusebius quotes a letter from Bishop Dionysius of Alexandria to the pope (book VII, chapter 9) regarding a believer who came from a heretical sect. Upon witnessing a true baptism for the first time, the man realized his own baptism had borne no resemblance to the real one and began to doubt its validity. From this letter, the following passage is often cited: “...and stretching forth his hands to receive the holy sustinence, and receiving it, and partaking of the Body and Blood of our Lord.” (“καὶ χεῖρας εἰς ὑποδοχὴν τῆς ἁγίας τροφῆς καὶ ταύτην καταδεξάμενον καὶ τοῦ σώματος καὶ τοῦ αἵματος τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν μετασχόντα.”)

Popular interpretation holds that “hands stretched forth to receive” clearly indicates communion in the hand. In reality, however, in nearly every Greek text cited as evidence for this practice, the word used for receiving Communion is the same one found here, yet its meaning is not what many assume. Among ancient Christians, the Greek word term hypodoché (ὑποδοχή) did not signify taking something into one’s palm. Originally, it was a Scriptural term for welcoming a guest (cf. Luke 10, 38 or 19, 6), and from there, it became a terminus technicus for Communion. This evolution is easily understood by anyone who recognizes that in Communion, we welcome the most Precious Guest. Furthermore, the text describes these hands as proteinanta (προτείναντα), meaning “stretched forward.” Thus, the actual meaning of the full expression used for Communion is: hands stretched forward for the welcoming / receiving of the Guest. This is correctly understood only when viewed through the lens of the practical ritual shown by the physical artifacts analysed earlier.

The second text is from the 17th Homily of Narsai of Edessa. This, too, is often presented as proof of communion in the hand; indeed, it cannot be ruled out that Alphonse Mingana, who discovered the text and was not above occasional forgery, sought to ensure it was read that way. In Dom R. H. Connolly’s translation, it reads:

“He who approaches to receive the Body stretches forth his hands, lifting up his right hand and placing it over its fellow. In the form of a cross the receiver joins his hands; and thus he receives the Body of our Lord upon a cross... And the priest who gives says unto him: ‘The Body of our Lord’... He receives in his hands the adorable Body of the Lord of all; and he embraces it and kisses it with love and affection.” (The liturgical homilies of Narsai online; see p. 108; in the original, p. 28)

Yet, in Mingana’s “original” Syriac text, the expression used for receiving the Host – just as in Eusebius – does not denote taking it with the hands. Instead, we find the same Scriptural term for “welcoming / receiving” as in the Greek. This term stems from the root Q-B-L, which in this context refers to the internal, spiritual, or faithful reception of the Sacrifice, much like in the Peshitta version of John 1, 12: “as many as received Him” (d-qabbelūhy).

Beyond the spiritual interpretation, the part of the expression referring to the hands allows for two grammatical readings. The preposition b- (b-īdayhī) can be either locative (‘in’) or instrumental (‘with/by means of’). In the latter case, Narsai’s text may not imply the Body being placed into the hands, but rather approaching the reception of the Body with hands outstretched in a gesture of welcome. The Syriac expression clearly supports this possibility precisely because of the aforementioned primary meaning of the terminus for communion. If, however, one still wishes to interpret the preposition as a locative, they may view it as a spiritual ‘place,’ much like the Father’s hands in Luke 23, 46, which feature the same preposition (b’idayk).

While the grammatical reading would ideally be determined by the subsequent parts of the text, the interpretation of the entire passage ultimately depends on what one considers a conceivable or plausible practice; thus, even the grammatical reading is decided primarily along extra-textual presuppositions. For example, it depends on whether one can imagine that the embracing and kissing of the Eucharist was not spiritual in sense, but an actual physical practice. Since I find this difficult to imagine, I more readily assume that the preposition has an instrumental meaning grammatically, involving a kind of spiritual instrumentality. Outstretched hands are symbols representing and signaling a readiness for reception, which practically served only to prevent crumbs from falling; thus, they are primarily spiritual instruments of a clearly spiritual reception. Therefore, in this text, the Body is perhaps not placed into the hands, but rather the communicant approaches for reception with outstretched hands, bowing.

The final example is the Fifth Mystagogical Catechesis of Saint Cyril of Jerusalem – often considered the “ultimate weapon” for proponents of communion in the hand. The passage in English reads:

“When, therefore, you approach, do not draw near with your wrists extended, nor with your fingers spread; but making your left hand a throne for the right, as for that which is about to receive the King, and hollowing your palm, receive the Body of Christ, saying, ‘Amen’.”

Migne’s edition: “Προσιὼν οὖν, μὴ τεταμένoις ταῖς τῶν χειρῶν καρποῖς προσέρχου, μηδὲ διῃρημένοις τοῖς δακτύλοις· ἀλλὰ τὴν ἀριστερὰν θρόνον ποιήσας τῇ δεξιᾷ, ὡς μελλούσῃ Βασιλέα ὑποδέχεσθαι· καὶ κοίλανας τὴν παλάμην, δέχου τὸ σῶμα τοῦ Χριστοῦ, ἐπιλέγων τὸ, Ἀμήν.” (PG 33, 1124-25, pdf pp. 562-3.)

Here again, we see the author using the technical term hypodechomai (ὑποδέχομαι) for the act of receiving. Even more interestingly: if we can momentarily set aside the ‘communion in the hand’ narrative, we discover that the scene described here is entirely compatible with the reconstructed rite, without the Holy Body ever touching the palm. Because the text does not forbid approaching with hands extended; rather, it forbids approaching with wrists separated, with the right palm not resting in the left, with the right palm not facing upward, or with fingers spread and arms flung wide. The purpose of closing the fingers and slightly hollowing the palms is obvious: to prevent any fragments of the holy Body from falling, an issue the text explicitly addresses with its analogy of gold dust.

Essentially, the text forbids the very hand gesture before reception that the images above depict as the posture of thanksgiving – after communion. If we recall the educational intent mentioned earlier, the Apostle on the Stuma paten – standing with arms wide and fingers spread – shows that the posture St. Cyril forbade before communion was actually the correct posture after communion, during the time of thanksgiving. This was a point of such significance that it demanded the instruction of the faithful; hence, its representation was deliberately sought, even while navigating the inherent constraints of pictorial composition.

It is also worth taking a closer look at the following passage:

“So then after having carefully hallowed thine eyes by the touch of the Holy Body, partake of it; giving heed lest thou lose any portion thereof; for whatever thou losest, is evidently a loss to thee as it were from one of thine own members. For tell me, if any one gave thee grains of gold, wouldest thou not hold them with all carefulness, being on thy guard against losing any of them, and suffering loss? Wilt thou not then much more carefully keep watch, that not a crumb fall from thee of what is more precious than gold and precious stones?” (Μετ’ ἀσφαλείας οὖν ἁγιάσας τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς τῇ ἐπαφῇ τοῦ ἁγίου σώματος μεταλάμβανε, προσέχων μὴ παραπολέσῃς τι ἐκ τούτου: ὅπερ γὰρ ἐὰν ἀπολέσῃς, τοῦτο ὡς ἀπὸ οἰκείου ἐζημιώθης μέλους. Εἰπὲ γάρ μοι, εἴ τίς σοι ἔδωκε ψήγματα χρυσίου, οὐκ ἂν μετὰ πάσης ἀσφαλείας ἐκράτεις, φυλαττόμενος μή τι αὐτῶν παραπολέσῃς καὶ ζημίαν ὑποστῇς; Οὐ πολλῷ οὖν μᾶλλον ἀσφαλέστερον τοῦ χρυσίου καὶ λίθων τιμίων τιμιωτέρον διασκοπήσεις ὑπὲρ τοῦ μὴ ψῖχα ἐκπεσεῖν.)

Those who view the above quote as irrefutable evidence for Communion in the hand generally fail to address what exactly was to be done after receiving the Most Holy Body. If this text were meant in a literal sense, then the Eucharist would have had to be touched to the eyes, just as later the remaining drops of the Holy Blood on the lips would have been smeared onto the sensory organs. Yet, it is highly contradictory that the author argues against dropping Eucharistic fragments using the gold dust metaphor, while simultaneously prescribing that it be kissed and touched to the eyes, acts that would obviously increase the risk of crumbs falling.

Furthermore, smearing droplets of the Holy Blood would almost inevitably result in dripping. Such a practice is highly improbable because – as proponents of Communion in the hand often overlook – those who possess an “excessive fear” of losing a single particle, likening it to the loss of their own limbs, do not typically handle the Blessed Sacrament in their hands, much less touch or smear it onto various parts of their body. Therefore, a sober interpretation suggests that the quote refers to actions in a spiritual sense; thus, the eyes are sanctified by gazing upon the Eucharist rather than by physical contact.

This is further supported by grammatical analysis, specifically the presence of the instrumental dative (dativus instrumenti) in the phrase τῇ ἐπαφῇ. This term, denoting contact or touch, can be rightly interpreted here as a kind of dativus instrumenti spiritualis.

Thus, this text serves as a vital supplement to the reconstructed ritual of the faithful’s Communion. With this detail, the action immediately preceding the reception of the Holy Body can be visualized: the communicant, approaching with hands extended and covered by the himation, raised his gaze to the Holy Body before receiving it, saying “Amen,” and then receiving it from the priest’s hand directly into his mouth.

Beyond its spiritual significance, the act of raising the eyes may have served a practical purpose. The phrase “carefully” (Μετ’ ἀσφαλείας) emphasizes the mindfulness with which the eyes are raised to gaze upon the Holy Body. This suggests a practical role for the gesture: by looking up at the Host, the face and mouth of the communicant, who approaches bowing with hands extended and covered, are placed in the optimal position for receiving Communion, thereby ensuring the safety of the metadosis (the priest’s handing over of the Holy Body). This aspect of safety is paramount, underscored by the Greek word for great care, “ἀσφάλεια”, a constant liturgical technical term in the Byzantine tradition. This very care is traditionally prescribed in Byzantine rubrics for priests administering the Eucharist. An example of this consistency is found in the Great Horologion (Horologion to Mega, p. 70), published in Venice in 1856, where the rubric for the priests’ communion prescribes: “And thus he takes what is in his hand with fear and great care.” (Καὶ οὕτω μεταλαμβάνει τοῦ ἐν χερσὶ μετὰ φόβου, καὶ πάσης ἀσφαλείας.)

In summary, it can be asserted with confidence that the texts presented here do not exclude the possibility of the reconstructed Communion rite. On the contrary, if we understand the spiritual state of the faithful – approaching bowed, with covered and extended hands as a humble sign of readiness to receive – we discover a posture identical to the traditional gesture of requesting a blessing preserved in Eastern traditions to this day, as we shall see in the final part of this essay.

The Ambrosian Sundays “After the Beheading of St John the Baptist”

This article is an expanded version of one originally published in 2018. The first part, up to the *, is mostly a translation of notes written by Nicola de’ Grandi. 

The oldest lectionary of the Roman Rite, a manuscript now in Wurzburg, Germany, dates to ca. 700, and represents the reading system used at Rome about 50 years earlier. It has a very disorganized and incomplete set of readings for the period after Pentecost, which is divided into four parts; the Sundays are counted as two after Pentecost, seven after Ss Peter and Paul, five after St Lawrence, and six after St Cyprian, a total of only 20.

The second oldest lectionary, from Murbach in eastern France, dates to about 100 years later, and represents the Roman Rite as used in France after Charlemagne had introduced it to replace the older Gallican Rite. It is much better organized and more complete than the Wurzburg manuscript, with 25 Sundays “after Pentecost.” This system has remained in use in the Roman Rite ever since, adjusted for the variable date of Easter, which can leave as few as 23 and as many as 28 such Sundays. The later medieval custom of counting Sundays after Trinity is no more than a variation on this theme.

A page of Ambrosian Missal printed in 1522; the Ingressa (Introit) of the First Sunday after the Beheading of St John the Baptist is at the bottom of the lower right hand column.

In the Ambrosian Rite the same period is divided into four different parts, as it anciently was in the Roman Rite. There are fifteen Sundays “after Pentecost”, followed by five “after the Beheading of St John the Baptist”; depending on the date of Easter, up to four of the former series will be omitted so the latter can begin. There are then three Sundays “of October”, on the last of which is celebrated the dedication of the cathedral of Milan, followed by three Sundays “after the Dedication”, which close the year before the beginning of the six-week Ambrosian Advent.

This arrangement is attested in one of the oldest sources of the Ambrosian Rite, a codex kept in the Capitular Library of the basilica of St John the Baptist in Busto Arsizio, which contains a very ancient order of readings, one that certainly predates the Carolingian period, when the Ambrosian lectionary underwent a significant reform.

The question therefore arises as to why Ambrosian liturgy raises the Beheading of St John the Baptist, (a very ancient feast, to be sure), to the level of feasts such as Easter, Epiphany, Pentecost, and the dedication of the rite’s mother church. The answer to this was given by Prof. Cesare Alzati in a paper which he delivered at the Sacra Liturgia conference in Milan in 2017.

On the Egyptian calendar, the New Year begins on the first day of the month of Tout, which corresponds to the Roman date of August 29th. (Since the Copts have not reformed their calendar according to the principles of the Gregorian calendar, Tout 1/August 29 currently falls on the Gregorian date September 11th.)

The Roman emperor Diocletian began his reign on November 20th, 284, but the Egyptians backdated his first regnal year to the start of their New Year, and the “Era of Diocletian” was thus counted from August 29th, 284. Since it was he who initiated the last, greatest and most systematic ancient persecution of the Church, the “Era of Diocletian” soon came to be known as the “Era of the Martyrs”; this term is still used to this very day by the Coptic Church, whose calendar begins in 284, making their current ecclesiastical year 1740.

A famous icon showing Christ with St Menas, one of the most revered of the early Egyptian Martyrs; his feast was even adopted at Rome, and he is still kept as a commemoration on the feast of St Martin in the Roman Rite. (Public domain image from Wikipedia.) This icon, which is now in the Louvre, is one of the oldest in existence, dated to the 6th or 7th century.

After the Council of Nicea adopted the method of dating Easter followed by the churches of Rome and Alexandria, it became the latter’s responsibility to calculate the date of Easter, and communicate it to the other churches. As Prof. Alzati noted, St Ambrose speaks about this in one of his epistles. “In the eighty-ninth year from the reign of Diocletian, when the 14th day of the moon was on March 24th, we celebrated Easter on March 31st. The Alexandrians and Egyptians likewise, as they themselves wrote, when the 14th day of the moon fell on the 28th day of the month of Phamenoth, celebrated Easter on the fifth day of the month of Pharmuth, which is March 31st, and so they agreed with us.” (Ep. 13, alias 23, 14, PL XVI 1031A)

The church of Constantinople, or New Rome, as it was officially called, has perhaps preserved a memory of the same tradition, since the ecclesiastical New Year of the Byzantine Rite begins with the first day of the first Roman month after August 29th. The years, however, are counted from the creation of the world, dated to 5509 BC, and the year which begins today is therefore reckoned as Annus Mundi 7533. (Ἔτος τοῦ Κόσμου in Greek, Лѣто Мира in Church Slavonic.) *

This, then, explains why the feast of the Beheading of St John the Baptist, forerunner and prototype of the martyrs, is raised to such prominence in the Ambrosian Rite as one of the reference points for the arrangement of the liturgical year. After the three major cycles of the life of Christ marked by the seasons after Epiphany, Easter and Pentecost, we see His life as it continues in His Mystical Body, the Church, first in the Era of the Martyrs, and then in the era of peace, marked by the building of the great churches.

A reconstruction of the ancient cathedral complex of Milan, with the “summer church”, dedicated to St Thecla, on the left, and the “winter church”, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, at the right. The octagonal structure in front of St Thecla is the baptistery of St John; the smaller structural beneath it is the baptistery of St Stephen. At the lower right is a partial reconstruction of the interior of the baptistery of St John.

In the Ambrosian Missal, each Sunday between Pentecost and Advent has its own Scriptural readings, but the feast of the Dedication is the only one that has its own Mass chants, prayers and preface. For the chants, there is a limited repertoire of material (e.g. nine psalmelli, the equivalent of the Roman gradual, but only three allelujas), which are repeated in a mostly regular cyclical order. For the prayers and prefaces, there are only six of each, which are also repeated in a regular cycle. This arrangement places the following as the first prayer as the first Sunday after the Beheading, surely not by coincidence, as it refers to the end of the persecutions and the establishment of the peace of the Church. (It is also said on the Fourth and Tenth Sundays after Pentecost, and the second of October.)

“Deus, qui Ecclesiam tuam nova semper prole foecundas; auge eam quotidie credentium puritate, et divinæ gratiæ infusione multiplica: ut, repulsa impugnatione malorum omnium, in tranquillitate pacis et fidei, tuo semper ditata munere glorietur.

The church of St George ‘al palazzo - at the palazzo’, built on the site of the imperial palace at Milan, from which Constantine issued the Edict of Toleration in 313 AD. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Parsifall, CC BY-SA 4.0)

O God, who dost ever enrich Thy Church with new offspring, increase it daily in the purity of those who believe, and multiply it by the infusion of divine grace, so that, the assaults of all evils being repelled, in tranquility of peace and faith, it may always glory that it has been enriched by Thy gift.”

The words “omnium malorum – all evils” may also be translated “all evil men”, speaking of the Church’s victory over the persecutors, and this is perhaps more consonant with the prophetic reading which comes immediately after it, Isaiah 65, 13-19.

“Thus saith the Lord God: Behold my servants shall eat, and you shall be hungry: behold my servants shall drink, and you shall be thirsty. Behold my servants shall rejoice, and you shall be confounded: behold my servants shall praise for joyfulness of heart, and you shall cry for sorrow of heart, and shall howl for grief of spirit. And you shall leave your name for an execration to my elect: and the Lord God shall slay thee, and call his servants by another name, in which he that is blessed upon the earth, shall be blessed in God, amen: and he that sweareth in the earth, shall swear by God, amen: because the former distresses are forgotten, and because they are hid from my eyes. For behold, I create new heavens, and a new earth: and the former things shall not be in remembrance, and they shall not come upon the heart. But you shall be glad and rejoice for ever in these things, which I create: for behold I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and the people thereof joy. And I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and have joy in my people: saith the Lord almighty.”

The Gospel, Luke 9, 7-11, also speaks of the martyrdom of John the Baptist as a sign of the beginning of a new era in the life of the Church, which continues in the ministry of the Apostles and their successors, those through whom it is spread throughout the earth.

“At that time, Herod the tetrarch heard of all things that were done by the Lord Jesus, and he was in a doubt, because it was said by some, that John was risen from the dead, but by others that Elijah had appeared, and by others, that one of the old prophets was risen again. And Herod said, ‘John I have beheaded, but who is this of whom I hear such things?’ … And the apostles, when they had returned, told (Jesus) all they had done; and taking them, He went aside into a desert place apart, … And when the people learned of this, they followed Him; and He received them, and spoke to them of the kingdom of God, and healed them who had need of healing.”

The antiphon “after the Gospel” which is sung on this Sunday also refers to the end of the persecutions. (There are eight of these for the period; this is one is also sung on the eighth Sunday after Pentecost and the first of October.)

“Manus tua, Domine, pugnavit pro patribus nostris; tu enim ipse es Dominus Deus noster. Dextera tua confringat inimicos; ut cantemus nomini tuo, Domine, laudem tuam.

Thy hand, o Lord, did fight for our father; for Thou Thyself are the Lord, our God. Let Thy right hand shatter the enemies, that we may sing Thy praise, o Lord, to Thy name.”

The Feast of the Forty Martyrs

The Forty Martyrs were a group of soldiers from the Roman Twelfth Legion, who died for the Faith at Sebaste in Armenia in the year 320. This was seven years after the Edict of Milan and the Peace granted to the Church by Constantine, whose brother-in-law Licinius at that point ruled in the East, and after a period of tolerance, renewed the persecution of Christians. When the Forty had been called to renounce the Faith and refused, they were sentenced first to various tortures, and then condemned to die a particularly horrible death, stripped naked and left to freeze on the ice of a frozen lake. The governor who supervised this execution ordered that a hot bath be prepared at the edge of the lake, by which any one of them who would apostatize might save himself from freezing to death.

A 10-century ivory relief icon of the Forty Martyrs, made in Constantinople, now in the Bodemuseum in Berlin. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Breviary of St Pius V represents the martyrs praying as their sufferings began, “Forty we have entered into the stadium, let us receive forty crowns, o Lord, lest even one be lacking from this number. This number is held in honor. You adorned it with a fast of forty days; through it the divine Law entered into the world. Elijah, seeking God, obtained the vision of Him by a fast of forty days.” This is a very ancient motif, by which the fast of forty days observed in the Law (Moses) and the Prophets (Elijah) is associated with that observed in the Gospel by Christ. (For this reason, on the first Sunday of Lent the Roman Rite reads the account of Christ’s fast, and on the second, that of His Transfiguration, at which Moses and Elijah appear as witnesses to the divinity of Christ. On the Ember Wednesday between them, there are two readings before the Gospel, Exodus 24, 12-18, which tells of the forty day fast of Moses, and 3 Kings 19, 3-8, the forty day fast of Elijah.)

One of the forty, however, did abandon the company and enter the hot bath; in some accounts it is said that he died immediately from the shock. In the meantime, one of their guards had a vision of Angels descending upon the martyrs, bearing thirty-nine crowns; he was inspired by this to become a Christian, take the place of the one who had left, and so fulfill the mystical number of forty. Seeing the martyrs’ constancy, those who were in charge of their execution decided to finish them off by breaking their legs, as was done to the thieves crucified alongside the Lord. Only one of them did not die from this, a young man named Melito, but he was mortally wounded and could not live. His own mother then carried him to the place where the rest of them were taken to be cremated, walking behind the wagon; during the journey he died in her arms, and was laid by her on the pyre among the bodies of his comrades.

Their ashes were scattered to prevent the veneration of their relics, but the Christians were able to recover some of them. St Basil the Great tells of the presence of the relics at Caesarea; his brother, St Gregory of Nyssa, says that their parents, Ss Basil the Elder and Emmelia, were buried in a church at a place called Annesis, which they themselves had built, and for which they had obtained some relics of the Forty. Portions of them were later taken to Constantinople and elsewhere, and devotion to them was brought to the West by St Gaudentius of Brescia, who received a part of the relics from St Basil’s nieces while passing through Caesarea on his way to Jerusalem.

The iconostasis of the Chapel of the Forty Martyrs in the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. (Photo from Wikimedia Commons by Deror Avi, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Their feast was originally kept in the West on March 9, the same day it still has in the East. St Frances of Rome died on that day in 1440; when she was canonized in 1608, she was assigned to that day, and the martyrs moved forward to the 10th. In the rubrical reform of 1960, ferias of Lent were given precedence over the majority of feasts, and the Forty were permanently reduced to a commemoration, since March 10th cannot occur outside Lent; notwithstanding the great veneration in which they are held in the East, and the antiquity of the feast, it was abolished from the calendar of the Novus Ordo.

In the Byzantine Rite, certain features of the liturgy which are reserved for the more important Saints are included on their day. The very strict Lenten fast is relaxed, so that wine and oil may be consumed. A Gospel is read at Orthros, John 15, 17 – 16, 2, in which Christ speaks of Himself as the model of martyrdom, and the martyr as the most perfect imitator of Him. “If the world hate you, know ye, that it hath hated me before you. If you had been of the world, the world would love its own: but because you are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you. ... If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you: if they have kept my word, they will keep yours also. ... Yea, the hour cometh, that whosoever killeth you, will think that he doth a service to God.”

If the Vespers of the Presanctified Gifts are celebrated, an Epistle and Gospel are added to the rite, sung as they would be at the Divine Liturgy. The Gospel is that which the Roman Rite reads on Septuagesima Sunday, Matthew 20, 1-16, the parable of the workmen in the vineyard; this was clearly chosen in reference to the guard who joined the martyrs at the last minute, and received the same crown with the rest of the company, just as the workmen who came at the eleventh hour received the same wage as the rest.

In the annals of Christian hagiography, there are many stories of people who were spontaneously converted to the Faith by seeing the constancy of the martyrs in the midst of their torments; it is not rare for such persons to become martyrs themselves, even joining the suffering Christians of their own will right on the spot, like the guard among the Forty. This phenomenon was realized again nine years ago in the person of one Matthew Ayariga, a Ghanaian who was seized in Libya by Islamic fanatics, along with a group of twenty Egyptian Copts. Although he was not a member of the Coptic Church, he refused to embrace Islam, even at the threat of being beheaded; seeing how the others prayed and called upon the Holy Name of Jesus as they died, he said of them, “Their God is my God,” and was slain in their company.

An icon of the New Martyrs of Libya, by Tony Rezk. Matthew Ayariga is represented in the middle of the group. 

These twenty-one men were canonized as martyrs by the Coptic Pope Tawadros II very shortly after their death; six years ago, a church named in their honor was dedicated in the village of Al-Our, Egypt, where thirteen of them came from, on the third anniversary of the martyrdom. In the following video, members of the martyrs’ families give exemplary testimonies of true Christian forgiveness, speaking not of anger, hatred or vengeance, but rather of the joy and pride which they take in their Sainted relatives. (It should be remembered that these men were all fairly young, and working construction jobs abroad to provide for their families.) “And God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes: and death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor crying, nor shall sorrow be any more, for the former things are passed away.”

A 12th-Century Coptic Gospel Book (Part 3)

This is the third and final part of a series of images from a Coptic Gospel book of the later twelfth century, which I stumbled across on the website of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. (Département des Manuscrits. Copte 13) In the first post, we saw the majority of the images, concentrated in the Gospel of St Matthew, and in the second, those from Mark and Luke, so here is John. I have cropped the pages to highlight just the illustrations.

Each Gospel is preceded by one of these elaborately decorated crosses.

The beginning of the Gospel itself. The Coptic alphabet is the same as the Greek alphabet, with seven letters based on late demotic Egyptian script to represent sounds for which Greek has no letter. The language also borrows a huge number of words from Greek, as for example in the very first line, “ⲁⲣⲭⲏ – beginning.”

St John the Baptist sends his disciples to follow the Lord.

The Wedding at Cana

The Samaritan Woman

Continue Reading this Article. . .

A 12th-Century Coptic Gospel Book (Part 2)

Last month, I posted pictures of a twelfth-century Coptic Gospel book which I happened to stumble across on the website of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. (Département des Manuscrits. Copte 13) Even though the see of Alexandria was founded by St Mark the Evangelist, there is a much higher concentration of illustrations in the Gospel of St Matthew than in the other three, so here are the images from Mark and Luke. This is just a selection, and I have cropped the pages to highlight just the illustrations.

Each Gospel is preceded by one of these elaborated decorated crosses; the Coptic letters around it (with abbreviation marks over them at top) mean “Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world.” The Coptic alphabet is the same as the Greek alphabet, with seven letters based on late demotic Egyptian script to represent sounds for which Greek has no letter. The language also borrows a huge number of words from Greek, as for example “souter - savior”, from the Greek “soter.”

The beginning of the Gospel; that of Luke as both of these elements as well, but they are almost perfectly identical to these from Mark, and are not included below.

The first illustration does not occur until chapter 6, the beheading of John the Baptist; St Mark gives the most complete account of this, and is consequently read on the feast on August 29th in most liturgical traditions, even those like the Roman Rite which otherwise make fairly little use of him.

The healing of the blind man at Bethsaida in chapter 7.

At the very end of the Gospel, Joseph of Arimathea goes to Pilate to ask for the body of Christ.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

A 12th-Century Coptic Gospel Book (Part 1)

Here is another beautiful manuscript which I stumbled across on one of my favorite websites for liturgical books, that of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France: a Coptic Gospel book dated (I presume on internal evidence) to the years 1178-80. (Département des Manuscrits. Copte 13) Unfortunately, the site doesn’t give any historical details about it, apart from the fact that it contains a portrait of the Coptic Pope Mark III, who reigned from 1166-89. There is a much higher concentration of illustrations in the Gospel of St Matthew, which I will cover in this post, than in the other three, which will be in a separate post. This is kind of surprising when one considers the tradition that the Evangelist St Mark founded the See of Alexandria. here I give only a selection, and have cropped the pages to highlight just the illustrations.

An image of Christ with writing in the border in Arabic; many of the smaller images have what appear to be Arabic captions added to them as well.

The portrait of the Coptic Pope Mark III

The beginning of the Gospel of St Matthew

The angel appears to St Joseph

The Magi are sent by King Herod to find “the new-born king of the Jews”; notice how the artist conveys the agitation of Herod and all of Jerusalem that was troubled with him by the position of their hands.

The Magi bring their gifts to Christ.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Feast of the Forty Martyrs

The Forty Martyrs were a group of soldiers from the Roman Twelfth Legion, who died for the Faith at Sebaste in Armenia in the year 320. This was seven years after the Edict of Milan and the Peace granted to the Church by Constantine, whose brother-in-law Licinius at that point ruled in the East, and after a period of tolerance, renewed the persecution of Christians. When the Forty had been called to renounce the Faith and refused, they were sentenced first to various tortures, and then condemned to die a particularly horrible death, stripped naked and left to freeze on the ice of a frozen lake. The governor who supervised this execution ordered that a hot bath be prepared at the edge of the lake, by which any one of them who would apostatize might save himself from freezing to death.

A 10-century ivory relief icon of the Forty Martyrs, made in Constantinople, now in the Bodemuseum in Berlin. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Breviary of St Pius V represents the martyrs praying as their sufferings began, “Forty we have entered into the stadium, let us receive forty crowns, o Lord, lest even one be lacking from this number. This number is held in honor. You adorned it with a fast of forty days; through it the divine Law entered into the world. Elijah, seeking God, obtained the vision of Him by a fast of forty days.” This is a very ancient motif, by which the fast of forty days observed in the Law (Moses) and the Prophets (Elijah) is associated with that observed in the Gospel by Christ. (For this reason, on the first Sunday of Lent the Roman Rite reads the account of Christ’s fast, and on the second, that of His Transfiguration, at which Moses and Elijah appear as witnesses to the divinity of Christ. On the Ember Wednesday between them, there are two readings before the Gospel, Exodus 24, 12-18, which tells of the forty day fast of Moses, and 3 Kings 19, 3-8, the forty day fast of Elijah.)

One of the forty, however, did abandon the company and enter the hot bath; in some accounts it is said that he died immediately from the shock. In the meantime, one of their guards had a vision of Angels descending upon the martyrs, bearing thirty-nine crowns; he was inspired by this to become a Christian, take the place of the one who had left, and so fulfill the mystical number of forty. Seeing the martyrs’ constancy, those who were in charge of their execution decided to finish them off by breaking their legs, as was done to the thieves crucified alongside the Lord. Only one of them did not die from this, a young man named Melito, but he was mortally wounded and could not live. His own mother then carried him to the place where the rest of them were taken to be cremated, walking behind the wagon; during the journey he died in her arms, and was laid by her on the pyre among the bodies of his comrades.

Their ashes were scattered to prevent the veneration of their relics, but the Christians were able to recover some of them. St Basil the Great tells of the presence of the relics at Caesarea; his brother, St Gregory of Nyssa, says that their parents, Ss Basil the Elder and Emmelia, were buried in a church at a place called Annesis, which they themselves had built, and for which they had obtained some relics of the Forty. Portions of them were later taken to Constantinople and elsewhere, and devotion to them was brought to the West by St Gaudentius of Brescia, who received a part of the relics from St Basil’s nieces while passing through Caesarea on his way to Jerusalem.

The iconostasis of the Chapel of the Forty Martyrs in the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. (Photo from Wikimedia Commons by Deror Avi, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Their feast was originally kept in the West on March 9, the same day it still has in the East. St Frances of Rome died on that day in 1440; when she was canonized in 1608 (together with St Charles Borromeo), she was assigned to that day, and the martyrs moved forward to the 10th. In the rubrical reform of 1960, ferias of Lent were given precedence over the majority of feasts, and the Forty were permanently reduced to a commemoration, since March 10th cannot occur outside Lent; notwithstanding the great veneration in which they are held in the East, and the antiquity of the feast, it was abolished from the calendar of the Novus Ordo.

In the Byzantine Rite, certain features of the liturgy which are reserved for the more important Saints are included on their day. The very strict Lenten fast is relaxed, so that wine and oil may be consumed. A Gospel is read at Orthros, John 15, 17 – 16, 2, in which Christ speaks of Himself as the model of martyrdom, and the martyr as the most perfect imitator of Him. “If the world hate you, know ye, that it hath hated me before you. If you had been of the world, the world would love its own: but because you are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you. ... If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you: if they have kept my word, they will keep yours also. ... Yea, the hour cometh, that whosoever killeth you, will think that he doth a service to God.”

If the Vespers of the Presanctified Gifts are celebrated, an Epistle and Gospel are added to the rite, sung as they would be at the Divine Liturgy. The Gospel is that which the Roman Rite reads on Septuagesima Sunday, Matthew 20, 1-16, the parable of the workmen in the vineyard; this was clearly chosen in reference to the guard who joined the martyrs at the last minute, and received the same crown with the rest of the company, just as the workmen who came at the eleventh hour received the same wage as the rest.

In the annals of Christian hagiography, there are many stories of people who were spontaneously converted to the Faith by seeing the constancy of the martyrs in the midst of their torments; it is not rare for such persons to become martyrs themselves, even joining the suffering Christians of their own will right on the spot, like the guard among the Forty. This phenomenon was realized again six years ago in the person of one Matthew Ayariga, a Ghanaian who was seized in Libya by Islamic fanatics, along with a group of twenty Egyptian Copts. Although he was not a member of the Coptic Church, he refused to embrace Islam, even at the threat of being beheaded; seeing how the others prayed and called upon the Holy Name of Jesus as they died, he said of them, “Their God is my God,” and was slain in their company.

An icon of the New Martyrs of Libya, by Tony Rezk. Matthew Ayariga is represented in the middle of the group. 

These twenty-one men were canonized as martyrs by the Coptic Pope Tawadros II very shortly after their death; three years ago, a church named in their honor was dedicated in the village of Al-Our, Egypt, where thirteen of them came from, on the third anniversary of the martyrdom. In the following video, members of the martyrs’ families give exemplary testimonies of true Christian forgiveness, speaking not of anger, hatred or vengeance, but rather of the joy and pride which they take in their Sainted relatives. (It should be remembered that these men were all fairly young, and working construction jobs abroad to provide for their families.) “And God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes: and death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor crying, nor shall sorrow be any more, for the former things are passed away.”

The Coptic Orthodox View of a 21st Century Renaissance in Catholic Culture

I want to draw your attention to a new blog from my friend, Dr. Stephane Rene, who is one of the foremost proponents of neo-Coptic iconography today. You can find it here: copticiconography.com.

Stephane is not only a wonderful painter; he has a deep understanding of the Christian tradition, and he is always worth reading and listening to. He is based in London and teaches at the Prince of Wales’ school of traditional arts in Shoreditch. Here is an example of his work.

His latest post is intended for a Coptic readership, and is an appeal against the influence of Western kitsch art in Coptic iconography. It is interesting to me to see how sentimentality and kitsch are so virulent they can infect just about any milieu, even one that I had viewed as resiliently traditional as the Coptic culture.

While he is critical of some Western traditions, most notably the High Renaissance, (and he is in good company here; Benedict XVI was too), he is refreshingly open to the first developments taking place in what he sees as a renewal of sacred arts in the Roman Catholic Church. As a member of the Coptic Orthodox Church, he is making such observations as an outsider. After first making some kind comments about my book, The Way of Beauty, he mentions two artists by name. One is known to me already, Ian Knowles the British iconographer whose style is influenced by that of his teacher Aidan Hart. The other is a French painter that I had not seen before, François Peltier who, he says, “has a more contemporary approach and uses modern materials, but his content and vocabulary are steeped in tradition.” The image below is one of his Stations of the Cross.

This is interesting work. It brings to mind the scripturally based work of the 20th-century Jewish French artist Marc Chagall. Benedict XVI is an admirer of Chagall’s art; I wrote in an article in 2011 that while I can see potential for devotional art in his style, I was skeptical about its value as liturgical art and the likelihood of it inspiring the rejuvenation of tradition. At the time I wrote:

Chagall’s work is highly individual in its stylization, and it relies much more on an interpretation of ideas that is directed by intuition rather than reason. Unless we can discern the principles that underlie it and characterize them very clearly, we can copy his work, but it is going to be difficult to do so with sufficient understanding for it to be the basis of a new tradition.

There is another factor that mitigates against Chagal: we live in the age where the tradition is one of anti-tradition. Today’s artists spend most of their time trying to be different be from everyone else. So even if Chagall does represent the beginning of a fourth liturgical tradition and somebody worked out his system of iconography, no tradition derived from it is is going to emerge as long as artists spend most of their time chasing ‘originality’ and consciously trying to differentiate themselves from other work.

Time will tell!

I’m not sure it is to my taste, but perhaps time is telling me something after all through the work of M. Peltier! Below is his Divine Mercy, which I prefer to the common image, as he has managed to purge it of the sentimentality which is so strong in the original.

Martin Mosebach on the Coptic Martyrs of Libya

Today is the fourth anniversary of the martyrdom of a group of 20 Egyptians and one Ghanaian, collectively known as the Coptic Martyrs of Libya, who were beheaded by Islamic terrorists on the Libyan seashore. These men were working abroad to provide for their families, braving the dangerous conditions in Libya; several of them were married, the oldest among them was only forty-six, the youngest twenty-two. The Ghanaian, Matthew Ayariga, was seized along with them, and although he was not a member of the Coptic Church, refused to embrace Islam, even at the threat of being beheaded; seeing how the others prayed and called upon the Holy Name of Jesus as they died, he said of them, “Their God is my God,” and was slain in their company. They were canonized as martyrs by the Coptic Pope Tawadros II very shortly after their death; one year ago, a large church named in their honor was dedicated in the village of El-Aour, Egypt, where thirteen of them came from. Their relics, which were recovered in September of 2017, were brought back to Egypt, and are now housed in this church.

A widely-diffused icon of the Coptic Martyrs of Libya, by Antoun Rezk.

Last year, Martin Mosebach, who is well-known to our readers, published a book about them in German, an account not only of the Saints and their martyrdom, but also of the author’s visit to Egypt and meetings with several members of their families and community. The English translation, The 21: A Journey into the Land of Coptic Martyrs, has just been published today. An essay adapted from the book, typical of Mosebach’s simple and beautiful writing, has just been published on First Things, and is very much worth your time.

“So the martyrs’ family members weren’t surprised when people came to visit. Their husbands, sons, and brothers had experienced the most amazing transformation of all: they had left home as poor migrant workers, and would never return, but had become saints and were now more present than ever, albeit in a different form. They now wore crowns, even though they had only done what was expected of them, and what all their brothers were equally prepared to do. Unexpectedly, this natural fulfillment of duty that would otherwise be taken for granted was surrounded by the greatest splendor—but this served only to prove that little more than the thinnest tissue separates earthly life from the heavenly sphere. One must always be prepared for the possibility that this tissue could tear, letting a golden ray of light fall into the realm of everyday life. Precisely by accepting such a cruel fate, their husbands, sons, and brothers were magnificently exalted. The martyrs’ relatives made no pretense of sharing their late loved ones’ glory, but they did take calm pride in the dead.”

The Ambrosian Sundays “After the Beheading of St John the Baptist”

The oldest lectionary of the Roman Rite, a manuscript now in Wurzburg, Germany, dates to ca. 700, and represents the reading system used at Rome about 50 years earlier. It has a very disorganized and incomplete set of readings for the period after Pentecost, which is divided into four parts; the Sundays are counted as two after Pentecost, seven after Ss Peter and Paul, five after St Lawrence, and six after St Cyprian, a total of only 20.

The second oldest lectionary, from Murbach in eastern France, dates to about 100 years later, and represents the Roman Rite as used in France after Charlemagne had introduced it to replace the older Gallican Rite. It is much better organized and more complete than the Wurzburg manuscript, with 25 Sundays “after Pentecost.” This system has remained in use in the Roman Rite ever since, adjusted for the variable date of Easter, which can leave as few as 23 and as many as 28 such Sundays. The later medieval custom of counting Sundays after Trinity is no more than a variation on this theme.

A page of Ambrosian Missal printed in 1522; the Ingressa (Introit) of the First Sunday after the Beheading of St John the Baptist is at the bottom of the lower right hand column.

In the Ambrosian Rite, however, the same period is divided into four different parts, as it anciently was in the Roman Rite. There are fifteen Sundays “after Pentecost”, followed by five “after the Beheading of St John the Baptist”; depending on the date of Easter, up to four of the former series will be omitted so the latter can begin. There are then three Sundays of October, on the third of which is celebrated the dedication of Milan cathedral, followed by three Sundays “after the Dedication”, which close the year before the beginning of the six-week Ambrosian Advent.

In the ancient use of the Roman Rite, the Saints whose feast days mark the divisions of this period are three patrons of the city of Rome itself, and one of the most prominent martyrs of the era before the Peace of the Church. The question therefore arises as to why the Ambrosian liturgy marks the second division with a feast which is certainly very ancient, but by no means the most prominent within the same period, where the Assumption might be seen as a more logical choice. This was answered by Prof. Cesare Alzati in his talk given last year at the Sacra Liturgia conference held in Milan.

On the Egyptian calendar, the New Year begins on the first day of the month of Tout, which corresponds to the Roman date of August 29th. [1] The Roman Emperor Diocletian began his reign on November 20th, 284, but the Egyptians backdated his regnal year to the start of their New Year, and the “Era of Diocletian” was thus counted from August 29th, 284. Since it was he who initiated the last, greatest and most systematic ancient persecution of the Church, the “Era of Diocletian” soon came to be known as the “Era of the Martyrs”; this term is still used to this very day by the Coptic Church, whose calendar begins in 284, making their current ecclesiastical year 1734.

A famous icon showing Christ with St Menas, one of the most revered of the early Egyptian Martyrs; his feast was even adopted at Rome, and he is still kept as a commemoration on the feast of St Martin in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite. (Public domain image from Wikipedia.) This icon, which is now in the Louvre, is one of the oldest in existence, dated to the 6th or 7th century.

August 29th, therefore, becomes a crucial point within the Ambrosian ecclesiastical year both as the beginning of the Era of the Martyrs, and slightly later, as a feast of the Saint who is both forerunner and prototype of the Martyrs. This tradition, which is attested in the oldest Ambrosian liturgical books, would have come to Milan from the East in the 4th century.

After the Council of Nicea adopted the method of dating Easter followed by the churches of Rome and Alexandria, it became the latter’s responsibility to calculate the date of Easter, and communicate it to the other churches. St Ambrose speaks about this in one of his epistles. “In the eighty-ninth year from the reign of Diocletian, when the 14th day of the moon was on March 24th, we celebrated Easter on March 31st. The Alexandrians and Egyptians likewise, as they themselves wrote, when the 14th day of the moon fell on the 28th day of the month of Phamenoth), celebrated Easter on the fifth day of the month of Pharmuth, which is March 31st, and so they agreed with us.” (Ep. 13, alias 23, 14, PL XVI 1031A)

The church of Constantinople has perhaps preserved a memory of the same tradition, since the ecclesiastical New Year of the Byzantine Rite begins with the first day of the first Roman month after August 29th. The years, however, are counted from the creation of the world, and the year about to begin is reckoned as 7527.

[1] Since the Copts have not reformed their calendar according to the principle of the Gregorian calendar, Tout 1/August 29 currently falls on Gregorian September 11th.

Part of this article comes from notes written by Nicola de’ Grandi.