The Legend of St Judah Cyriacus

On May 4th, the Martyrology contains a seemingly very ordinary entry about a saint named Cyriacus: “At Jerusalem (the birth into heaven) of St Cyriacus the bishop, who was slain there under Julian the Apostate when he was visiting the holy places.” But behind this there lies a very remarkable hagiographical confusion, which is connected to the previous day’s feast of the Finding of the Holy Cross.

The fifteenth bishop of Jerusalem, and the last man of Jewish descent to hold that office, was a certain Judah, who is mentioned in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History (IV, 5). He is also traditionally said to be a descendant of the Lord’s family, the great-grandson of the Apostle Jude, and was therefore known by the epithet “Kyriakos”, meaning “of the Lord.” Eusebius also says that he lived at the time of the second great rebellion of the Jews against Roman rule (132-35), known after its leader as the Bar-Kochba rebellion. After this was put down, Jews were forbidden to live in the city, and thus he could no longer serve as its bishop; he was therefore replaced by a man named Marcus, and lived out the rest of his days in Galilee.

(Pictured right: St Judah Cyriacus, 1620-25, by the Venetian painter Iacopo Negretti (1548/50-1628), commonly known as Palma il Giovane; in the sacristy of the Jesuit church of the Assumption in Venice. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

But Kyriakos, written as “Cyriacus” in Latin, was not an unusual name among Christians in the ancient world. Twelve others who bear it are listed in the Martyrology, (plus three women named Cyriaca), and three others who are called by a slightly latinized form “Quiriacus.” One of these is a bishop of Ancona, a city on the Adriatic coast of Italy, about 166 miles to the north-northeast of Rome, who is supposed to have lived in the mid-4th century. And somehow, despite the two centuries that separate them in time, he was confused with the Lord’s kinsman who bears his name as an epithet.

Per se, this is not a particularly unusual thing. Much of what the Middle Ages knew of ancient history, especially regarding less prominent figures such as a random bishop of a small port city, was mixed up in a giant chronological muddle. A similar and very famous confusion took place between a missionary named Dionysius sent to Gaul in the mid-3rd century and his Biblical namesake in the latter part of Acts 17. But what makes this case so interesting is how it became tangled up with the story of the finding of the True Cross.

An aerial view of the cathedral of Ancona, dedicated to St Judah Cyriacus, from a postcard made in the 1960s. The local tradition holds that the relics of the Saint were given to the city by the Roman Empress Galla Placidia in the first half of the 5th century. 

After the Bar-Kochba rebellion, the Romans destroyed the ancient city of Jerusalem in a very Roman fashion, by basically choosing a level, shaving off everything higher than that level, and building a giant platform, on top of which they then constructed a new city. This means that the Jerusalem which Our Lord and the Apostles knew, including Calvary and the tomb, was essentially buried under it. After that point, although the Church might well have preserved the memory of the places where the events narrated in the Gospels and Acts happened, the original sites would no longer have been accessible.

In his wonderful novel Helena, a fictionalized account of the holy empress’ life and the finding of the Cross, Evelyn Waugh describes this situation very beautifully. Helena asks the writer Lactantius how the Church knows that the events of Jesus’ life really took place, and he replies:

“We have the accounts written by witnesses. Besides that there is the living memory of the Church. We have knowledge handed down from father to son, invisible places marked by memory – the cave where he was born, the tomb where his body was laid, the grave of Peter. … If you want to visit the holy places you must find the right man. He can tell you, so many paces to the east from such and such a stone, where the shadow falls at sunrise on such and such a day. A few families know these things and they see to it that their children learn the instructions. One day when the Church is free and open there will be no need for such devices.”

St Helena, 1495, by Cima da Conegliano. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

Now the Church historian Sozomen reports (II.1) that the location of Calvary was “disclosed by a Hebrew who dwelt in the East, and who derived his information from some documents which had come to him by paternal inheritance.” This may well represent a memory of the Lord’s family keeping record of the place, such as the aforementioned Judah Kyriakos, although Sozomen himself doubted the truth of the story.

But in the early medieval retelling of the story, the version which carries over into the Golden Legend, when St Helena went to find the Cross, some of the Jewish leaders knew where it was, but refused to tell her, so she threatened to have them all burned alive. They therefore handed over to her one of their number, a man named Judah, whom she had lowered into a well and left for several days, until he agreed to reveal its location. This distasteful episode furnished the antiphons for Lauds, Vespers and the minor Hours of the Finding of the Cross in the pre-Tridentine Roman Breviary; the second, for example, reads, “Then she ordered them all to be burned, but they, being fearful, handed over Judas, alleluia.” (In Clement VIII’s revision of the Tridentine Breviary, these antiphons were all replaced with those of the Exaltation.)

Judah being lowered into the well, part of the cycle of paintings which depict the legend of the Cross by Piero della Francesca (after 1447), in the basilica of St Francis in Arezzo.

The story goes on that this Judah converted to Christianity, eventually became bishop of Jerusalem, and was then martyred under Julian the Apostate. And thus we find the following passage in William Durandus’ entry on the Finding of the Cross.

“The cross was found at the time of Pope Eusebius by the blessed Helena, the mother of Constantine, with the assistance of Judah, who was then a Jew… (of whom) it is read that, having converted to the faith, he afterwards was made bishop of Jerusalem, and having changed his name, was called Quiriacus. It is said that the devil prophesied about him, ‘A Judah handed Christ over to death, but this Judah exalted him when he was dead… but Julian, my servant and friend, will soon be king, and avenge me upon this one.’ This took place when a monk called Julian, apostatizing from the order, by crime attained the Roman consulship, and thence having become emperor, and a persecutor of the Christians, afflicted him with various punishments and ordered him to be killed. It is also said that a certain soldier by the name of Quiriacus afterwards killed Julian, from whose tomb in Constantinople there comes forth an intolerable stench.” (Rat. Div. Off. VII, 11, 3-5)

The Martyrdom of St Judah Quiriacus, depicted on an altar frontal made in the 12th century in Catalonia, now in the Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya in Barcelona. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Picturesque as this story may be, no part of it can possibly be true, and it should stand as a caution about the uncritical acceptance of hagiographical legends, even when they come from the pen of a luminary like Durandus. There was indeed a pope called Eusebius, who reigned for 19 months in the years 309-10, well before St Helena went to the Holy Land. It hardly needs saying that the emperor Julian the Apostate was never a monk. His brief reign (Nov. 361 – June 363) falls entirely within the much longer tenure of a bishop of Jerusalem called Cyril (350 ca. – 386), who outlived him by twenty-three years, and is, of course, a Saint and Doctor of the Church. (Cyril is “Kyrillos” in Greek, which might well have been confused with “Kyriakos” in some way.)

There is no solid historical foundation for the tradition that it was a Christian soldier who killed Julian, but in the East, where this tradition is accepted, the soldier’s name is given as Mercurius, not Quiriacus or one of its variants. Julian was originally buried in the city of Tarsus in modern Turkey, but his remains were later moved to Constantinople. The Byzantine chronicler John Zonaras (ca. 1070 – 1140) reports that his sarcophagus stood in a colonnade near the church of the Twelve Apostles. This church was also the imperial mausoleum, and it is impossible to suppose that the emperors would leave near it anything that emitted an intolerable stench.

A porphyry sarcophagus which is believed to have been that of Julian the Apostate, which is now in the Istanbul Archeological Museum in Constantinople. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Apaleutos25, CC BY-SA 4.0.)

A Legend of St Helena, the Discoverer of the True Cross

The Basilica of the Holy Cross, the main church of the Franciscan Order in Florence, was founded on May 3rd, the feast of the Finding of the Cross, in 1294. Last September, on the Exaltation of the Cross, I posted pictures of the frescoes which the painter Agnolo Gaddi added to the main choir around the year 1385, a cycle that depicts the Legend of the True Cross. The Franciscans were extremely important patrons of the arts in that era, and the basilica is so rich in artworks that it would take several posts to list and describe them all. Here are some pictures from one of the side-chapels, which I am posting today because they are marginally connected to the story of the Finding of the Cross.

The Bardi di Vernio chapel, located in the left transept, is dedicated to Pope St Sylvester I, and was decorated with stories of his life around the year 1335 by Maso di Banco; very little is known about this painter, but he is generally regarded as one of the most talented of Giotto’s followers. (“Maso” was a common Tuscan nickname for “Tommaso.”) This fresco, which is obviously very damaged, depicts the story that the Emperor Constantine, still a pagan and a persecutor of the Church (which he never was in reality) had leprosy, and had been advised by his doctors to bath in the blood of infants to cure it. Many Romans did believe in this kind of sympathetic magic, and while this particular story is certainly a later legend, it is by no means wholly implausible on this point. In this version, which was also read in the Roman Breviary before the Tridentine reform, Constantine was so moved by the weeping of the infants’ mothers that he refusing to commit this terrible crime. One of the great innovations of Giotto’s painting was the use of facial expressions to tell his story, which we see here imitated by Maso in the group of mothers on the right.

The Apostles Peter and Paul appear to Constantine in a dream, and tell him to seek out the Pope, St Sylvester, who is hiding from the persecution on Mt Soracte to the north of Rome, and that the Pope will cure him of his leprosy.

On the left side, Constantine meets Pope Sylvester, who shows him an image of the two Apostles; since he recognizes them as the men who had appeared to him in his dream, he agrees to be baptized, at which his leprosy is indeed cured. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The story that follows (which in the chapel is directly beneath the previous one) is the part of the legend that connects with the Finding of the Cross. Constantine’s mother, the dowager Empress Helena, holds a debate to determine which of the two monotheistic religions, Christianity, represented by the Pope and his cardinals (on the left), or Judaism, represented by a group of rabbis (on the right), is true. When the rabbis have been bested by the Pope at every point in the debate (which is recounted at wearisome length in The Golden Legend), one of them decides to prove the truth of Judaism by whispering what he claims to be the Divine Name into the ear of a ferocious bull, which immediately dies. However, Sylvester then whispers into its ear “O name of cursing and death, go out by the command of the Lord Jesus Christ, in Whose name I say to thee: o bull, arise, and return in all mildness to thy flock.” The bull immediately comes back to life and walks away. Helena and all those present, including the rabbis, become Christians; she then goes on her great expedition to the Holy Land, where she discovers the site of Mt Calvary and the relics of the True Cross. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Gospel of Nicodemus in the Liturgy of Eastertide

By “the Gospel of Nicodemus”, I mean not the apocryphal gospel of that title, but the passage of St John’s Gospel in which Christ speaks to Nicodemus, chapter 3, verses 1-21. This passage has an interesting and complex history among the readings of the Easter season. For liturgical use, the Roman Rite divides it into two parts, the second of which begins at one of the most famous verses in all the Gospels, John 3, 16, “For God so loved the world that He sent His only Son …”; the first part anciently included verse 16, but was later cut back to end at 15.

Christ and Nicodemus, by Fritz van Uhde, ca. 1886

The oldest surviving Roman lectionary, the “Comes Romanus” of Wurzburg, was written around 700 A.D, and represents the liturgy of approximately 50-100 years earlier, the period just after St Gregory the Great; in it, John 3, 1-16 is assigned to be read twice in Eastertide. The first occasion is on the Pascha annotinum, the anniversary of the previous year’s Easter and baptism of the catechumens. The second is the Octave Day of Pentecost, the observance of which is, of course, much older than the feast of the Holy Trinity which we now keep on that Sunday.

In his Treatises on the Gospel of St John (11.3), St Augustine say that “this Nicodemus was from among those who had believed in (Christ’s) name, seeing the signs and wonders which He did” at the end of the previous chapter. (2, 23) “Now in this Nicodemus, let us consider why Jesus did not yet entrust Himself to them. ‘Jesus answered, and said to him: Amen, amen I say to thee, unless a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.’ (John 3, 3) Therefore, Jesus entrusts Himself to those who have been born again. … Such are all the catechumens: they already believe in the name of Christ, but Jesus does not entrust himself to them. If we shall say to the catechumen, ‘Do you believe in Christ?’ he answers, ‘I believe’, and signs himself; he already bears the Cross of Christ on his forehead.”

These words refer to the very ancient custom, still a part of the rites of Baptism to this very day, by which the catechumens were signed on their foreheads with the Cross. Augustine here follows his teacher St Ambrose, who says in his book On the mysteries, “The catechumen also believes in the Cross of the Lord Jesus, by which he is also signed: but unless he shall be baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, he cannot receive forgiveness of sins, nor take in the gift of spiritual grace.” (chapter 4)

Augustine then says (11.4), “Let us ask (the catechumen), ‘Do you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink (His) blood?’ He does not know what we are saying, because Jesus has not entrusted Himself to him.” The fact that Nicodemus first came to Christ at night (John 3, 2) also refers to his status as a catechumen. “Those who are born from water and the Spirit (John 3, 5), what do they hear from the Apostle? ‘For you were heretofore darkness, but now light in the Lord. Walk then as children of the light.’ (Eph. 5, 8) and again, ‘Let us who are of the day be sober.’ (1 Thess. 5, 8) Those then who have been reborn, were of the night, and are of the day; they were darkness, and are light. Jesus already entrusts Himself to them, and they do not come to Jesus at night as Nicodemus did…”.

Following this interpretation, the Gospel is perfectly suited for the celebration of the Pascha annotinum, in which the catechumens commemorated the day when Christ first entrusted Himself to them in both Baptism and the Eucharist.

Two leaves of a 1491 Missal according to the Use of Passau (Germany). The Mass for the Octave Day of Pentecost begins towards the bottom of the first column on the left, with the rubric “everything as on the feast, except the Epistle and Gospel.”

On the Octave Day of Pentecost, this Gospel is repeated, although the Wurzburg manuscript here attests to a custom of the Roman Rite observed in northern Europe, but not in Rome itself. Already in very ancient times, baptisms were done on Pentecost as on Easter; this is attested in a letter of Pope St Siricius (384-399) to Himerius, bishop of Tarragon in Spain (cap. 2), and one of Pope St Leo the Great (440-461), in which he exhorts the bishops of Sicily to follow the Church’s custom and the example of the Apostle Peter, who baptized three thousand persons on Pentecost day. (Epist. 16) The Gospel of the vigil of Pentecost, John 14, 15-21, is continued on the feast itself with verses 23-31, both passages referring to the sending of the Holy Spirit. Since Baptism was traditionally administered on Pentecost, the reading of the Nicodemus Gospel on the Octave, a foundational text for the Church’s understanding of that Sacrament, expresses what an important aspect of the feast this really was.

This point is made even more clearly by the Ambrosian rite. The Church of Milan assigns two Masses to the Easter vigil and each day of Easter week, one “of the solemnity”, and a second “for the (newly) baptized”; the latter form a final set of lessons for the catechumens who have just been received into the Church. At the Easter vigil Mass “for the baptized”, the Nicodemus Gospel is read, ending at verse 13. The first prayer of this Mass begins with a citation of it: “O God, who lay open the entrance of the heavenly kingdom to those reborn from water and the Holy Spirit, increase upon Thy servants the grace which Thou hast given; so that those who have been cleaned from all sins, may not be deprived of the promises.” The Epistle, Acts 2, 29-38, is taken from St Peter’s speech on the first Pentecost, ending with the words, “and you will receive the Holy Spirit.”

On Easter itself, the Gospel of the Mass “for the baptized” is John 7, 37-39.

On the great day of the festivity, the Lord Jesus stood and cried out, saying: If any man thirst, let him come to me, and drink. He that believeth in me, as the scripture saith, Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. Now this he said of the Spirit which they should receive, who believed in him: [for as yet the Spirit was not given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.]

However, the words noted here in brackets are omitted at this Mass. Pentecost also has two Masses, and at its Mass “for the baptized”, this Gospel is repeated, but including the final words, further emphasizing the connection between the two great baptismal feasts.

The remains of the Baptistery of Saint John at the Fonts (San Giovanni alle Fonti), the paleo-Christian baptistery of Milan, discovered under the modern Duomo in 1889.

In the second-oldest Roman lectionary, the Comes of Murbach, roughly a century later than the Wurzburg manuscript, the Nicodemus Gospel was added to a third Mass, that of the Finding of the Cross on May 3rd. The origin and gradual diffusion of this feast are not the subject of this article; suffice it to note two points here. The Wurzburg lectionary has neither the Finding of the Cross nor the Exaltation, but both are in Murbach, and are well-established by the end of the Carolingian period. The latest possible date for Easter, (occurring only once per century since the Gregorian Calendar was promulgated in 1582), is April 25, making May 2nd the latest date for Low Sunday. It is probably not a coincidence that the Finding of the Cross was fixed to May 3rd, the first date at which it must occur in Eastertide, but cannot fall within the Easter Octave itself.

The choice of Gospel was certainly determined by the final words, “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him, may not perish; but may have life everlasting.” St Augustine explains, “As those who looked upon the serpent did not perish from the bites of the serpents; so those who with faith look upon the death of Christ are healed from the bites of sins. But they were healed from death to temporal life: here, however, He says “that they may have eternal life.” (Tract. in Joannem, 12, 11)

The Deposition of Christ, by Michelangelo, 1547-53, also known as the “Nicodemus Pietà” from the generally accepted tradition that the hooded figure at the top of the group is Nicodemus, and a self-portrait of the artist. From the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo di Firenze.

It may also have been motivated by the fact that the Pascha annotinum was by this time falling into disuse; Bl. Ildephonse Schuster notes in The Sacramentary (vol. 2, p. 260) that it is only rarely mentioned in Rome after the 8th century. (The Murbach lectionary omits its Epistle.) This is probably due both to the disappearance of the adult catechumenate, and to the fact that it was supposed to be celebrated with the same rites as Easter itself, but will often occur in Lent; it would then have to be transferred, rather obviating the point of it. Assigning John 3, 1-16 to May 3rd may therefore have been intended to maintain its importance by finding it a more prominent position in the liturgy. And indeed, it is as the Gospel of the Finding of the Cross that it will serve as part of the liturgy of Eastertide past the Middle Ages and through the Tridentine period.

Although the Octave of Pentecost is very ancient, Rome and the Papal court never kept the first Sunday after Pentecost as part of it. (This forms another parallel with Easter, since the liturgy of Low Sunday differs in many respects from that of Easter itself.) In northern Europe, as noted above, the Octave Day was a proper octave, repeating the Mass of the feast, but with different readings: Apocalypse 4, 1-10 as the Epistle, and John 3, 1-16 as the Gospel. Both of these traditions were slowly but steadily displaced by the feast of the Trinity, first kept at Liège in the early 10th century; but there was a divergence of customs here as well. When Pope John XXII (1316-34) ordered that Holy Trinity be celebrated throughout the Western Church, he placed it on the Sunday after Pentecost, a custom which became universal after Trent. But even as late as the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Low Countries and several major dioceses in Germany still kept the older Octave Day of Pentecost, and put the feast of the Trinity on the Monday after.

Others compromised between the older custom and the new by keeping the readings from the Octave of Pentecost, but inserting them into the Mass of the Trinity; this was observed at Sarum, and by the medieval Dominicans and Premonstratensians. After the Tridentine reform, however, as part of the general tendency to Romanize liturgical books, this compromise was retained only by the Old Observance Carmelites, leaving the first part of the Nicodemus Gospel only on the Finding of the Cross for all the rest of the Roman Rite.

In 1960, the feast was suppressed from the general Calendar, and relegated to the Missal’s appendix “for some places”, causing the effective disappearance of the crucial Gospel passage from the liturgy of Eastertide. This defect been partially remedied in the Novus Ordo; the reading is broken into two pieces, assigned to the Monday and Tuesday after Low Sunday, but not to any major feast of the season.

A second (and shorter) part of this article will consider the second part of the Gospel of Nicodemus, John 3, 16-21, on Pentecost Monday, June 9th.

The Story of the True Cross, by Piero della Francesca

In the mid-15th century, the Italian painter Piero della Francesca (1416-92) did a remarkable series of frescoes in the choir of the Basilica of St Francis in Arezzo, known as The History of the True Cross. Although a few sections of the paintings are completely lost, most of it is in very good condition; the entire cycle was beautifully restored in the 1990s. Arezzo is a lovely city, but it would be worth a visit even if there were nothing else to see there besides these works.

The cycle includes not only St Helena’s discovery of the Cross, which is celebrated today, and its recovery in the 7th-century, which is celebrated on September 14th, but also some of the popular stories collectively known as the Legend of the Cross, as recounted in Bl. Jacopo de Voragine’s Golden Legend and elsewhere. It has to be said that some of these stories stretch the bounds of credibility well past the breaking point, a fact of which Bl. Jacopo was quite aware. In his account of today’s feast, he refers several times to conflicting accounts in the histories to which he had access. The stories are not depicted in order within the choir itself; I will give them here in the chronological order of the legend. (Click on the images to enlarge them.)

The first panel (right wall at the top) depicts the death of Adam, the elderly man lying on the ground on the right, with Eve supporting him from behind. His son Seth receives from the Archangel Michael a branch from the Tree of Life in the Garden of Paradise, which he plants in his dead father’s mouth (at the bottom, to the left of the tree.) From this branch grows the tree which will become the wood of the Cross. (The depiction of a skull at the base of Christ’s Cross derives from this legend.)

Second panel, below the first - The tree lives until the time of Solomon, when it is cut down and part of it used to make a bridge. When the Queen of Sheba comes to visit Solomon, she recognizes it as coming from the Tree of Life, and kneels before it. On the right, she meets Solomon and his court, and bows before him. One version of the story adds that she had webbed feet, which were made normal by touching the wood. (Piero della Francesca’s mastery of the art of perspective is seen very nicely in the horse on the far left. His habit of depicting people in unusual hats, which he shares with a number of his Tuscan contemporaries, comes from seeing the delegates of the Eastern churches to the Council of Florence, which concluded shortly before he began this project.)

The third panel is to the left of the one above, on the back wall; Solomon has the wood from the bridge buried. (Piero does not depict the story of how the wood was then recovered and used to make the Cross of Christ.)

In the fourth panel just below it, the story moves forward to Constantine; an angel appears to him in a dream as he sleeps in his tent, the night before the great battle which will make him master of the Roman Empire, leading to his conversion. The angel bears a small Cross in his hand, a very subtle depiction of the In hoc signo vinces episode. (Piero has here done a very skillful depiction of a night scene, which most artists of the Renaissance shy away from.)

Returning to the right wall, to the right of the panel above, Constantine defeats Maxentius at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, another tour-de-force of perspective, but sadly also the most damaged of the frescoes.

After the death of Christ, the wood of His Cross is buried again. According to the legend, when St Helena went to find it, some of the Jewish leaders knew where it was, but refused to tell her, so she threatened to have them burned alive. They therefore handed over to her one of their number, a man named Judas, whom she had lowered into a well and left for several days, until he agreed to reveal its location. This scene, to the left of the window at the back wall, shows him being lifted out of the well; his foot on the edge of the well is another example of Piero’s clever mastery of perspective. (This distasteful episode furnished the antiphons for Lauds, Vespers and the minor Hours of the Finding of the Cross in the pre-Tridentine Roman Breviary; the second, for example, reads “Then she ordered them all to be burned, but they, being fearful, handed over Judas, alleluja.” These were removed in Clement VIII’s revision of the Tridentine Breviary, and replaced with the antiphons of the Exaltation.)

St Helena finds the crosses of both Christ and the two thieves by digging up Mt Calvary. The Lord’s is identified by touching all three to a dead man whose funeral procession happens to be passing by; the third one raises the man back to life, at which all present adore it. (Piero is really showing off on the right with the perspective of the Cross. This panel is in the middle of the left wall.)

The Cross is stolen from the church of the Holy Sepulcher by the Persians when they take the city of Jerusalem in 614 AD. This spectacularly chaotic battle scene shows the defeat of the Persian Emperor Chosroes at the hand of the Byzantine Emperor Heraclius, which took place in 627 at Nineveh. Chosroes returns in defeat to his capital, where he is murdered by his elder son and successor Siroes. The latter will sue for peace with Heraclius, who makes the return of the relics of the Cross one of the conditions for the treaty. (This panel is located lowest on the left wall, to mirror the Battle of the Milvian Bridge on the right wall.)

At the top of the left wall, Heraclius, simply dressed and barefooted, brings the relics of the Cross back into Jerusalem. As described in the Matins lessons for the Exaltation of the Cross, on approaching the city, Heraclius found himself unable to pass the gate, held back by a mysterious force. The bishop of Jerusalem then told him to imitate the poverty and humility of the King of kings by laying aside his royal robes, at which he was able to continue his way to the Holy Sepulcher. It may be guessed that this story was particularly appealing to the Franciscans who sang Mass and Office in this choir every day, and was therefore put at the top as the most “exalted” of the scenes. (Here Piero really goes to town with the funny hats!)

To the left of the window in the back wall, below the scene of Judas being lifted out of the well, is depicted the Annunciation. More than one art historian has failed to realize that this is also, obliquely, part of the Holy Cross cycle, in accord with the ancient tradition, very widely accepted in the Middle Ages and beyond, that the earthly life of Christ was a perfectly circle of years, and that the day of His Incarnation was the same as the day of His death.

The Commemorations of the Holy Cross in the Byzantine Liturgical Year

We are happy to share this article by Fr Deacon Philip Gilbert on the feasts of the Cross in the Byzantine tradition, since next Sunday, the Third of Lent, is dedicated to the Veneration of the Holy Cross. Father Philip is a deacon of the Ukrainian Greco-Catholic Church; we have previously published his articles on the week preceding Great Lent, on the first ceremony of Lent in the Byzantine Rite, Vespers of Forgiveness Sunday, and on the Sunday of Orthodoxy, as the First Sunday of Lent is called. We also published photographs and a video of his subdiaconal ordination in 2018.

In the Byzantine tradition, in addition to the commemorations of the Holy Cross on each Wednesday and Friday, there are three major feasts of the Cross over the course of the year, on September 14, August 1, and the third Sunday of the Great Fast.

The first of these is formally known as “the Universal Exaltation (or Elevation) of the Holy Cross”, and commemorates the discovery of the relics of the True Cross in 326. In the wake of the famous appearance of the cross to the Emperor Constantine just before the battle of the Milvian Bridge, and the ensuing victory which made him master of the Roman Empire, he sent his mother Saint Helena to Jerusalem to find the Cross. In the excavations of Golgatha (where a temple to Aphrodite had been set up by the pagan emperor Hadrian [1]), three crosses were found, but it was impossible to tell which was the saving cross of the Lord, and which belonged to the thieves. A dying widow was therefore brought to the site to see if one of them would heal her, and when one of them did indeed miraculously restore her to health, that cross was determined to be the one upon which our Lord was crucified. The traditional icon of this feast depicts the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Macarius, standing on the ambo of a church and holding up this Cross before the crowd of faithful for all to see. When the people beheld the Holy Cross being thus elevated, they cried out “Lord, have mercy!” Angels or deacons hold his elbows, assisting him as he elevated the Cross, while Saint Helen stands below the ambo, wearing her imperial crown.

The second feast, on August 1st, which is also the feast day of the Holy Maccabee martyrs, is called the Procession of the Holy Cross. The Synaxarion of that day (the equivalent of the Roman martyrology) succinctly says:

Because of the many diseases that occur in the month of August, the custom prevailed of old in Constantinople to carry the precious Wood of the Cross in procession throughout the city for its sanctification and its deliverance from illnesses. It was brought forth from the imperial treasury on the last day of July and placed upon the Holy Table of the Great Church of the Holy Wisdom; and beginning today, until the Dormition of the Theotokos, it was carried in procession throughout the city and was set forth for veneration before the people. [2]

A brief video of a procession with a relic of the Cross held at the beginning of the pandemic four years ago, at the Greek-Catholic cathedral of St George in Lviv, Ukraine.

On this day, holy water is blessed with a rite which includes the reading of John 5, 1-4; this ties the blessing of waters, and the supplication to be healed from disease, to the words of the Gospel, “From time to time an angel of the Lord used to come down into the pool; and the water was stirred up, so the first one to get in after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease afflicted him.” Fr. David Petras explains that “Water was formerly blessed frequently, usually on the first day of each month. The blessing for August 1 is the only one retained in the Typikon (the ordinal of the Byzantine Rite).” [3]

The third major commemoration of the Holy Cross is fixed not to a specific date on the calendar, but instead to the cycle of movable feasts centered on Pascha, and thus Great Lent. The third Sunday of the Great Fast is the Veneration of the Holy Cross, which is continually observed all through the following fourth week of Lent. Archbishop Job Getcha writes:

“The third Sunday of Great Lent is dedicated to the veneration of the lifegiving Cross, … According to Nicephoras Kallistos Xanthopoulos in his Synaxarion, the Cross is offered to us as a comfort and encouragement in our journey through Great Lent, and it announces the approach of the Passion and Resurrection of the Lord.” [4] Another Synaxarion reading says:

With the help of God, we have almost reached the middle of the course of the Fast, where our strength has been worn down through abstinence, and the full difficulty of the labour set before us becomes apparent. Therefore our holy Mother, the Church of Christ, now brings to our help the all-holy Cross, the joy of the world, the strength of the faithful, the staff of the just, and the hope of sinners, so that by venerating it reverently, we might receive strength and grace to complete the divine struggle of the Fast. [5]

Another Synaxarion explains: “when a king is coming, at first his banner and symbols appear, then he himself comes glad and rejoicing about his victory and filling with joy those under him; likewise, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is about to show us His victory over death, and appear to us in the glory of the Resurrection Day, is sending us in advance His scepter, the royal symbol – the Life-Giving Cross – and it fills us with joy and makes us ready to meet, inasmuch as it is possible for us, the King himself, and to render glory to His victory...” [6] By having the Holy Cross set before us at the midpoint of the Fast, we are reminded what else is very soon to be set before us: Great and Holy Week, and the commemoration of Christ’s betrayal, passion, death, and victorious and glorious resurrection from the dead.

On all three of these commemorations, an image of the Cross, or if a parish has one, a relic of the True Cross itself, is adorned with flowers and placed on a tray. Some typika prescribe that it be laid on a bed of basil leaves, since some accounts of the finding of the Cross say that basil grew on the place where the Cross was uncovered at Golgatha. But this custom may arise from the fittingness of adorning the cross of our King with a plant whose name has the same root as the word for “royal” and “emperor”. (The troparion to St. Basil the Great employs this same play on words and addresses him as “O royal one”).

After Small Vespers, the Holy Cross is taken from the sacristy to the Holy Table by the priest, the deacon incensing before him as he goes, and is placed on the Table in place of the Gospel Book. At the end of the Great Doxology of Orthros, the Cross is solemnly carried out the north door of the iconostasis and placed in the center of the church on the analogion or tetrapod (a stand for holding up icons). It is incensed on all sides, while the troparion to the Holy Cross is sung three times: “O Lord, save your people and bless Your inheritance. Grant victory to the emperor (or orthodox Christians, or, our country) over his/their enemies, and guard your habitation by Your Cross.”

On September 14, and only on this day, the rite of the Exaltation is performed at this point. The priest takes up the cross, and first facing the East, then in each cardinal direction until he is once again facing East, he says a petition of a special litany for this rite, and then, as the people sing “Lord, have mercy” 24 or 100 times, “the priest slowly bows as deeply as he can, holding the Cross and then rising up again during the chant. This is done for each of the five petitions… The cross is then replaced on the tetrapod.” [7] In some places, fragrant rose water is poured on the Cross as it is elevated, signifying that it is the spring of life for sinners. (In the following video, taken at the church of St Elias in Brampton, Ontario, last September, this part of the ritual begins at 2:32:00.)

Once the adorned Cross is placed on the analogion for veneration, the hymn which replaces the usual Trisagion during feasts of the Cross is sung: “Before Your Cross we bow down in worship, O Master, and Your holy resurrection we glorify.” This is done three times, and all make a prostration after each. The clergy and faithful then all come forward to venerate the cross by kissing it, customarily making two prostrations before and one after. (Video taken at the Golden-Domed Monastery of St Michael in Kyiv, Ukraine, on the Third Sunday of Lent, 2021.)

During the week after the Third Sunday of Lent, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, there is also a solemn veneration of the Cross at the Third Hour, at which “Before your Cross” is sung again, while the priest incenses it on all sides, followed by the singing of a group of hymns from Matins, while all approach to venerate the Cross. [8] It remains in the center of the temple until the end of the 9th hour and the Typika service on the following Friday. Having been solemnly venerated one last time, it is then returned to the sacristy just before the celebration of the Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts on Friday evening.

It is worth noting that all three of these feasts are days of strict abstinence, regardless of what day of the week they fall on. In many places, dark (burgundy or purple) vestments are worn, but in others, a festal bright red is customary.

[1] Cf. The Great Horologion, trans. Holy Transfiguration Monastery (Boston: 1997), 250.

[2] ibid., 564.

[3] Typicon, arranged Archpriest David Petras, (Pittsburgh: Byzantine Seminary Press, 2024), 61.

[4] The Typikon Decoded, Archbishop Job (Getcha), trans Paul Meyendorff, (Yonkers: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press: 2012), 191.

[5] The Great Horologion, 604.

[6] A Byzantine Rite Liturgical Year, Julian J. Katrij, OSMB (Detroit: Basilian Fathers Publication, 1983), 111.

[7] Typicon, 72.

[8] Cf. The Typikon Decoded, 193.

A Legend of St Helena, the Discoverer of the True Cross

The Basilica of the Holy Cross, the main church of the Franciscan Order in Florence, was founded on May 3rd, the feast of the Finding of the Cross, in 1294. Last September, on the Exaltation of the Cross, I posted pictures of the frescoes which the painter Agnolo Gaddi added to the main choir around the year 1385, a cycle that depicts the Legend of the True Cross. The Franciscans were extremely important patrons of the arts in that era, and the basilica is so rich in artworks that it would take several posts to list and describe them all. Here are some pictures from one of the side-chapels, which I am posting today because they are marginally connected to the story of the Finding of the Cross.

The Bardi di Vernio chapel, located in the left transept, is dedicated to Pope St Sylvester I, and was decorated with stories of his life around the year 1335 by Maso di Banco; very little is known about him, but he is generally regarded as one of the most talented of Giotto’s followers. (“Maso” was a common Tuscan nickname for “Tommaso.”) This fresco, which is obviously very damaged, depicts the story that the Emperor Constantine, still a pagan and a persecutor of the Church (which he never was in reality) had leprosy, and had been advised by his doctors to bath in the blood of infants to cure it. Many Romans did believe in this kind of sympathetic magic, and while this particular story is certainly a later legend, it is by no means wholly implausible on this point. In this version, which was also read in the Roman Breviary before the Tridentine reform, Constantine was so moved by the weeping of the infants’ mothers that he refusing to commit this terrible crime. One of the great innovations of Giotto’s painting was the use of facial expressions to tell his story, which we see here imitated by Maso in the group of mothers on the right.

The Apostles Peter and Paul appear to Constantine in a dream, and tell him to seek out the Pope, St Sylvester, who is hiding from the persecution on Mt Soracte to the north of Rome, and that the Pope will cure him of his leprosy.

On the left side, Constantine meets Pope Sylvester, who shows him an image of the two Apostles; since he recognizes them as the men who had appeared to him in his dream, he agrees to be baptized, at which his leprosy is indeed cured. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The story that follows (which in the chapel is directly beneath the previous one) is the part of the legend that connects with the Finding of the Cross. Constantine’s mother, the dowager Empress Helena, holds a debate to determine which of the two monotheistic religions, Christianity, represented by the Pope and his cardinals (on the left), or Judaism, represented by a group of rabbis (on the right), is true. When the rabbis have been bested by the Pope at every point in the debate (which is recounted at wearisome length in The Golden Legend), one of them decides to prove the truth of Judaism by whispering what he claims to be the Divine Name into the ear of a ferocious bull, which immediately dies. However, Sylvester then whispers into its ear “O name of cursing and death, go out by the command of the Lord Jesus Christ, in Whose name I say to thee: o bull, arise, and return in all mildness to thy flock.” The bull immediately comes back to life and walks away. Helena and all those present, including the rabbis, become Christians; she then goes on her great expedition to the Holy Land, where she discovers the site of Mt Calvary and the relics of the True Cross. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

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St Joseph and St Helena

This year, the feast of the Finding of the Cross is followed immediately by the Solemnity of St Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church. Although they often come close to each other, this is the first time in thirty years that these two feasts have concurred at Vespers, as the rubrics traditionally describe it. This got me to thinking about some profound reflections on the figure of St Helena by the English writer Evelyn Waugh, and how they also apply to Our Lord’s foster father.

In 1950, Waugh published his only historical novel, Helena, a fictionalized account of the empress’ life, and her discovery of the Cross. His introduction begins with a funny story based on the Latin version of the feast’s title, “Inventio Crucis”, which, in his classic fashion, foreshadows the greater point of the story.

“It is reported (and I, for one, believe it) that some few years ago a lady prominent for her hostility to the Church returned from a visit to Palestine in a state of exultation. ‘I got the real low-down at last,’ she told her friends. ‘The whole story of the crucifixion was made up by a British woman named Ellen. Why, the guide showed me the very place where it happened. Even the priests admit it. They call their chapel “the Invention of the Cross.” ’ ”

The chapel of the Finding of the Cross in the church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem; photo by Nicola dei Grandi, from an article published in April of 2019.

“a British woman named Ellen” refers to a medieval tradition that Helena was the daughter of a local chieftain in Roman Britain, a tradition which Waugh incorporates into the story. He always regarded it as his best work, a fact which may well surprise those who know him for much more famous books like The Loved One or Brideshead Revisited. The latter was made into a critically acclaimed mini-series, and several of his other works have likewise been brought to film, although none as well or successfully. Helena, on the other, has not only never been filmed, but is the only one of his novels that ever fell out of print.

Two years after its publication, Waugh was invited by Claire Booth Luce, who like him, was a prominent convert to Catholicism, to contribute to a collection of essays called Saints for Now, alongside a number of other Catholic writers. He chose St Helena as his subject, and his essay, essentially a summary of the novel’s theological ideas, is deeply insightful; all the more so, when one considers that he had no pretense of any sort to be a theologian.

Evelyn Waugh in 1940. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

What Waugh correctly understood was that in the 4th century, once Christianity had been legalized, it was in danger of being assimilated to (if not into) the numerous other religions that existed in the ancient Roman world. Many things about it were already very congenial to the Roman religious mind: “(a)nother phase of existence which select souls enjoyed when the body was shed; a priesthood; a sacramental system, even in certain details of eating, anointing and washing – all these had already a shadowy place in fashionable thought. Everything about the new religion (i.e. Christianity) was capable of interpretation, could be refined and diminished…”

The novel is set shortly after the Council of Nicea, the first major defeat of the Arian heresy, but far from the last battle fought over it. This newly fashionable version of the Creed, which most of the emperors for 50 years after Constantine adopted, was just such an interpretation, refinement and diminution: the translation of Christianity into Platonism, with God the Father as Plato’s One, and God the Son as the demiurge of the Timaeus.

But Waugh goes on to clarify that everything about Christianity was capable of being interpreted in such a fashion “except the unreasonable assertion that God became man and died on the Cross; not a myth or an allegory; true God, truly incarnate, tortured to death at a particular moment in time, at a particular geographical place, as a matter of plain historical fact.” And thus, in the novel, St Helena herself (a classically British self-assured older woman, who could well be played by Maggie Smith if it were ever filmed), says to the Pope, St Sylvester I, “Just at this moment when everyone is forgetting it… there’s a solid chunk of wood waiting for them to have their silly heads knocked against. I’m going off to find it.”

St Helena, 1495, by Cima da Conegliano. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

And of course, find it she does, a fact whose importance Waugh underscores by saying in Saints for Now, “It is not fantastic to claim that her discovery entitles her to a place in the Doctorate of the Church, for she was not merely adding one more stupendous trophy to (its) hoard of relics … She was asserting in sensational form a dogma that was in danger of neglect.”

Now it must be stated that the Church’s defense of that dogma was not the argument over abstruse and useless theology that bad historians have long presented it as. It was motivated rather by the gravest possible pastoral concerns, and for this reason, it is very appropriate that the Finding of the Cross should be preceded by the feast of St Athanasius, the great champion of Nicene orthodoxy.

The assertion of Christ’s full divinity is the assertion that it is God Himself who takes such great interest in the salvation of the human race that He joins it, uniting each baptized person to Himself in His mystical body. And since it is God Himself, not a lesser creature, who freely offers redemption and salvation to “every man that cometh into this world”, the Church can truly say to every man, regardless of his status in this world, “God is your salvation.” In this sense, the only sense that ultimately matters, all men are equal before God. From this derives the very concept of personhood, which did not exist in the ancient world before Christianity, and the dignity of the human person.

Waugh beautifully connects this essential point, the unique importance of each individual before God, to the career of St Helena. When Constantine came to power in 306, she had been divorced from his father, Constantius Chlorus, for over 15 years, and was no more than a wealthy but obscure retiree, far from power and the centers of power. Indeed, it was for the sake of consolidating power through political alliances that Constantius had put her aside. But as Waugh writes in Saints for Now, “God had His own use for her. Others faced the lions in the circus; others lived in the caves in the desert. She was to be St Helena Empress, not St Helena Martyr or St Helena Anchorite. She accepted a state of life (i.e. that of dowager empress, after her son’s ascent to power) full of dangers to the soul in which many foundered, and she remained fixed in her purpose … Then came her call to a single peculiar act of service, something unattempted before and unrepeatable – the finding of the True Cross. … What we can learn from Helena is something about the workings of God; that He wants a different thing from each of us, laborious or easy, conspicuous or quite private, but something which only we can do and for which we were each created.”

A catacomb stone of the 3rd century, with the Magi approaching the child Jesus as he sits in the His Mother’s lap; note that St Joseph is standing behind the throne.

This also applies in an especially fitting way to St Joseph. Like St Helena, very little is known about him, although many traditions, some of them very ancient, but historically very uncertain, have sprung up around him. In recent centuries, he has largely taken over St Barbara’s role as patron Saint of a good death, but the canonical Gospels, our only genuinely reliable source of information about him, do not even mention his death. In many early depictions of the Nativity, he is either absent or relegated to a visibly inferior position, standing where the servants stand, behind the throne of the Virgin and Child. His feast day was slow to catch on, not admitted at Rome until the later 15th century.

But like St Helena, he too was chosen for “a single peculiar act of service”, the guardianship of the two holiest persons who have ever lived in this world. And the Church, having long and duly considered his role as Jesus’ earthly foster father and the true spouse of the Virgin Mary, has thus entrusted itself to him as its own guardian under the title “Patron of the Universal Church”, with which he is honored in today’s feast.

Apart from their specific roles in the history of salvation, these two Saints therefore each remind us in their own way of the broader truth stated by Waugh above, also beautifully expressed by one of the more recent Popes who was given Joseph’s name in baptism. “We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.” (Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, in the homily of his inaugural Mass, April 24, 2005.)

St Joseph as Patron of the Catholic Church. This image was used as the header of his feast under that title in liturgical books printed by the German company Frideric Pustet, from the later 19th to mid 20th century. The crests of Popes Bl. Pius IX, who placed the feast of the Patronage of St Joseph on the universal calendar, and Leo XIII are seen to either side of St Peter’s Basilica.

The Gospel of Nicodemus in the Liturgy of Eastertide

By “the Gospel of Nicodemus”, I mean not the apocryphal gospel of that title, but the passage of St John’s Gospel in which Christ speaks to Nicodemus, chapter 3, verses 1-21. This passage has an interesting and complex history among the readings of the Easter season. For liturgical use, the Roman Rite divides it into two parts, the second of which begins at one of the most famous verses in all the Gospels, John 3, 16, “For God so loved the world that He sent His only Son …”; the first part anciently included verse 16, but was later cut back to end at 15.

Christ and Nicodemus, by Fritz van Uhde, ca. 1886

The oldest surviving Roman lectionary, the “Comes Romanus” of Wurzburg, was written around 700 A.D, and represents the liturgy of approximately 50-100 years earlier, the period just after St Gregory the Great; in it, John 3, 1-16 is assigned to be read twice in Eastertide. The first occasion is on the Pascha annotinum, the anniversary of the previous year’s Easter and baptism of the catechumens. The second is the Octave Day of Pentecost, the observance of which is, of course, much older than the feast of the Holy Trinity which we now keep on that Sunday.

In his Treatises on the Gospel of St John (11.3), St Augustine say that “this Nicodemus was from among those who had believed in (Christ’s) name, seeing the signs and wonders which He did” at the end of the previous chapter. (2, 23) “Now in this Nicodemus, let us consider why Jesus did not yet entrust Himself to them. ‘Jesus answered, and said to him: Amen, amen I say to thee, unless a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.’ (John 3, 3) Therefore, Jesus entrusts Himself to those who have been born again. … Such are all the catechumens: they already believe in the name of Christ, but Jesus does not entrust himself to them. If we shall say to the catechumen, ‘Do you believe in Christ?’ he answers, ‘I believe’, and signs himself; he already bears the Cross of Christ on his forehead.”

These words refer to the very ancient custom, still a part of the rites of Baptism to this very day, by which the catechumens were signed on their foreheads with the Cross. Augustine here follows his teacher St Ambrose, who says in his book On the mysteries, “The catechumen also believes in the Cross of the Lord Jesus, by which he is also signed: but unless he shall be baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, he cannot receive forgiveness of sins, nor take in the gift of spiritual grace.” (chapter 4)

Augustine then says (11.4), “Let us ask (the catechumen), ‘Do you eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink (His) blood?’ He does not know what we are saying, because Jesus has not entrusted Himself to him.” The fact that Nicodemus first came to Christ at night (John 3, 2) also refers to his status as a catechumen. “Those who are born from water and the Spirit (John 3, 5), what do they hear from the Apostle? ‘For you were heretofore darkness, but now light in the Lord. Walk then as children of the light.’ (Eph. 5, 8) and again, ‘Let us who are of the day be sober.’ (1 Thess. 5, 8) Those then who have been reborn, were of the night, and are of the day; they were darkness, and are light. Jesus already entrusts Himself to them, and they do not come to Jesus at night as Nicodemus did…”.

Following this interpretation, the Gospel is perfectly suited for the celebration of the Pascha annotinum, in which the catechumens commemorated the day when Christ first entrusted Himself to them in both Baptism and the Eucharist.

Two leaves of a 1491 Missal according to the Use of Passau (Germany). The Mass for the Octave Day of Pentecost begins towards the bottom of the first column on the left, with the rubric “everything as on the feast, except the Epistle and Gospel.”

On the Octave Day of Pentecost, this Gospel is repeated, although the Wurzburg manuscript here attests to a custom of the Roman Rite observed in northern Europe, but not in Rome itself. Already in very ancient times, baptisms were done on Pentecost as on Easter; this is attested in a letter of Pope St Siricius (384-399) to Himerius, bishop of Tarragon in Spain (cap. 2), and one of Pope St Leo the Great (440-461), in which he exhorts the bishops of Sicily to follow the Church’s custom and the example of the Apostle Peter, who baptized three thousand persons on Pentecost day. (Epist. 16) The Gospel of the vigil of Pentecost, John 14, 15-21, is continued on the feast itself with verses 23-31, both passages referring to the sending of the Holy Spirit. Since Baptism was traditionally administered on Pentecost, the reading of the Nicodemus Gospel on the Octave, a foundational text for the Church’s understanding of that Sacrament, expresses what an important aspect of the feast this really was.

This point is made even more clearly by the Ambrosian rite. The Church of Milan assigns two Masses to the Easter vigil and each day of Easter week, one “of the solemnity”, and a second “for the (newly) baptized”; the latter form a final set of lessons for the catechumens who have just been received into the Church. At the Easter vigil Mass “for the baptized”, the Nicodemus Gospel is read, ending at verse 13. The first prayer of this Mass begins with a citation of it: “O God, who lay open the entrance of the heavenly kingdom to those reborn from water and the Holy Spirit, increase upon Thy servants the grace which Thou hast given; so that those who have been cleaned from all sins, may not be deprived of the promises.” The Epistle, Acts 2, 29-38, is taken from St Peter’s speech on the first Pentecost, ending with the words, “and you will receive the Holy Spirit.”

On Easter itself, the Gospel of the Mass “for the baptized” is John 7, 37-39.

On the great day of the festivity, the Lord Jesus stood and cried out, saying: If any man thirst, let him come to me, and drink. He that believeth in me, as the scripture saith, Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. Now this he said of the Spirit which they should receive, who believed in him: [for as yet the Spirit was not given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.]

However, the words noted here in brackets are omitted at this Mass. Pentecost also has two Masses, and at its Mass “for the baptized”, this Gospel is repeated, but including the final words, further emphasizing the connection between the two great baptismal feasts.

The remains of the Baptistery of Saint John at the Fonts (San Giovanni alle Fonti), the paleo-Christian baptistery of Milan, discovered under the modern Duomo in 1889.

In the second-oldest Roman lectionary, the Comes of Murbach, roughly a century later than the Wurzburg manuscript, the Nicodemus Gospel was added to a third Mass, that of the Finding of the Cross on May 3rd. The origin and gradual diffusion of this feast are not the subject of this article; suffice it to note two points here. The Wurzburg lectionary has neither the Finding of the Cross nor the Exaltation, but both are in Murbach, and are well-established by the end of the Carolingian period. The latest possible date for Easter, (occurring only once per century since the Gregorian Calendar was promulgated in 1582), is April 25, making May 2nd the latest date for Low Sunday. It is probably not a coincidence that the Finding of the Cross was fixed to May 3rd, the first date at which it must occur in Eastertide, but cannot fall within the Easter Octave itself.

The choice of Gospel was certainly determined by the final words, “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him, may not perish; but may have life everlasting.” St Augustine explains, “As those who looked upon the serpent did not perish from the bites of the serpents; so those who with faith look upon the death of Christ are healed from the bites of sins. But they were healed from death to temporal life: here, however, He says “that they may have eternal life.” (Tract. in Joannem, 12, 11)

The Deposition of Christ, by Michelangelo, 1547-53, also known as the “Nicodemus Pietà” from the generally accepted tradition that the hooded figure at the top of the group is Nicodemus, and a self-portrait of the artist. From the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo di Firenze.

It may also have been motivated by the fact that the Pascha annotinum was by this time falling into disuse; Bl. Ildephonse Schuster notes in The Sacramentary (vol. 2, p. 260) that it is only rarely mentioned in Rome after the 8th century. (The Murbach lectionary omits its Epistle.) This is probably due both to the disappearance of the adult catechumenate, and to the fact that it was supposed to be celebrated with the same rites as Easter itself, but will often occur in Lent; it would then have to be transferred, rather obviating the point of it. Assigning John 3, 1-16 to May 3rd may therefore have been intended to maintain its importance by finding it a more prominent position in the liturgy. And indeed, it is as the Gospel of the Finding of the Cross that it will serve as part of the liturgy of Eastertide past the Middle Ages and through the Tridentine period.

Although the Octave of Pentecost is very ancient, Rome and the Papal court never kept the first Sunday after Pentecost as part of it. (This forms another parallel with Easter, since the liturgy of Low Sunday differs in many respects from that of Easter itself.) In northern Europe, as noted above, the Octave Day was a proper octave, repeating the Mass of the feast, but with different readings: Apocalypse 4, 1-10 as the Epistle, and John 3, 1-16 as the Gospel. Both of these traditions were slowly but steadily displaced by the feast of the Trinity, first kept at Liège in the early 10th century; but there was a divergence of customs here as well. When Pope John XXII (1316-34) ordered that Holy Trinity be celebrated throughout the Western Church, he placed it on the Sunday after Pentecost, a custom which became universal after Trent. But even as late as the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Low Countries and several major dioceses in Germany still kept the older Octave Day of Pentecost, and put the feast of the Trinity on the Monday after.

Others compromised between the older custom and the new by keeping the readings from the Octave of Pentecost, but inserting them into the Mass of the Trinity; this was observed at Sarum, and by the medieval Dominicans and Premonstratensians. After the Tridentine reform, however, as part of the general tendency to Romanize liturgical books, this compromise was retained only by the Old Observance Carmelites, leaving the first part of the Nicodemus Gospel only on the Finding of the Cross for all the rest of the Roman Rite.

In 1960, the feast was suppressed from the general Calendar, and relegated to the Missal’s appendix “for some places”, causing the effective disappearance of the crucial Gospel passage from the liturgy of Eastertide. This defect been partially remedied in the Novus Ordo; the reading is broken into two pieces, assigned to the Monday and Tuesday after Low Sunday, but not to any major feast of the season.

A second (and shorter) part of this article will consider the second part of the Gospel of Nicodemus, John 3, 16-21, on Pentecost Monday, June 6th.