The Final Days of the Blessed Ildephonse Schuster

We never let August 30th pass without remembering the Blessed Cardinal Alfredo Ildefonso Schuster, who went to his eternal reward on this day in 1954, after serving as Archbishop of Milan for just over a quarter of a century. We have written about him many times on NLM, partly in connection with our interest in the Ambrosian liturgy, of which he was a great promoter, but also as one of the most important scholars of the original Liturgical Movement.

In 2018, we published a brief meditation of his on the value of praying the Office, which, to judge from viewing numbers and several requests for permission to reprint, was very much appreciated. This was taken from the account of Schuster’s final days included in the book Novissima Verba by Abp Giovanni Colombo, the cardinal’s successor-but-one in the see of St Ambrose. At the time of Schuster’s death, the latter was a simple priest, serving as both rector and professor of Italian literature at Venegono, the archdiocesan seminary which the cardinal had founded; it was he who who administered the last rites to Schuster. My translation of this incredibly moving piece certainly does not do justice to Abp Colombo’s magnificent Italian. Thanks to Nicola de’ Grandi for some of the pictures.

Had it been possible to foresee that these were his last words, that each one was almost like a will, they would certainly have been noted down one by one with diligence, to be kept in a notebook with the veneration due to a father. But there was no way any one could have seen ahead of time how close and how swift his final departure would be, not even the doctors who hoped to get him back his strength with a few weeks’ rest and care. So now, after five years, the heart alone remains, with no written aid, to remember his final holy words, and record them faithfully as it finds them in memory.

The call by which his secretary, Mons. Ecclesio Terraneo, informed us that His Eminence would come to Venegono for a period of rest was received in the seminary with a sense of joy, and also amazement. Joy, because it hardly seemed real that we could have time to enjoy the presence of the archbishop, whose visits were frequent, to be sure, but always accompanied by his eagerness to run off to other places and persons; amazement, and almost dismay, because the suspicion had arisen in us all that only a serious illness could have brought such a tireless shepherd to yield at last to the idea of taking a vacation, the first in 25 years of his episcopacy, and as it would prove, the last. …

… although nature and vocation had made him for the peace of prayer and study, more than for the turmoil of action, he never deceived himself (as to his duty), not even when old age and poor health would have urged greater moderation (in his activities). He had no wish to spare his energies, even when he was close to the end. He used to say “To be archbishop of Milan is a difficult job, and the archbishop of Milan absolutely cannot allow himself the luxury of being ill. If he becomes ill, it is better that he go at once to Paradise, or renounce his see.”

Cardinal Schuster’s episcopal consecration, celebrated in the Sistine Chapel by Pope Pius XI, himself previously archbishop of Milan, on July 21, 1929.

The archbishop’s car stopped outside the entrance to the seminary around 6 p.m. on August 14, 1954. It was no longer raining, but a low cloud cover filled the sky, … Exhausted, wan, in pain, walking towards the elevator with difficulty, he said, “I would like to read some of the recent publications on archeology, liturgy, church history while I am here.” He had always taught that studies are an essential component of the priest’s spiritual life; all his life had borne witness to this teaching, and he remained faithful to it even in the face of a deadly illness.

On the feast of the Assumption, the radio broadcast the noon Angelus recited by Pope Pius XII. Standing in the room where he took his meals privately, because he did not have the strength to reach the common dining room, while awaiting the Pope’s prayer, the archbishop heard along with us the joyful tolling of the bells of St Peter’s. At the sound, he looked at us with eyes full of emotion, and repeated twice, “The bells of my town, the bells of my town!” His voice was trembling; was it the sweet nostalgia of other occasions that called back to him to the long-ago solemnities of his childhood, or was it rather the sad understanding that he would never hear them again?

On the afternoon of August 18th, the high school seminarians and those of the theologate, who had come back to the seminary the day before… gathered on the tree-lined slope under the window of his apartment to see and greet the archbishop. Called by their youthful song, he appeared smiling on the balcony, and spoke to them with these words. “Here I am among you, on a forced rest; because I did not wish to pay the interest year by year, now I am forced to pay both interest and capital at once. You have asked for a memento from me. I have no memento (to give you), other than an invitation to holiness. It seems that people do not any longer let themselves be convinced by our preaching, but in the presence of holiness, they still believe, they still kneel and pray. It seems that people live in ignorance of supernatural realities, indifferent to the problems of salvation, but if a true Saint, living or dead, passes by, everyone runs to see him. Do you remember the crowds around the caskets of Don Orione or of Don Calabria? Do not forget that the devil has no fear of our playing fields and our movie theatres [1], but he does fear our holiness.” …

His days, which should have been passed in complete rest, were full of prayer, reading, decisions on the affairs of the diocese, and discussions. Someone said to him, “Your Eminence allows himself no rest. Do you want to die on your feet like St Benedict?” Smiling, he answered, “Yes.” This was truly his wish, but this was a matter of Grace, and thus it was God’s to grant.

It was only a few days before the 25th anniversary of his entry into the diocese. In the quiet sunsets of Venegono, he was beset by memories. How many labors and events, some of them tragic, did he have to confront after that serene morning of September 7th (1929), when, on the journey from Vigevano to Rho, he stopped the car half-way over the bridge on the Ticino river, got out, and kissed the land of St Ambrose on its threshold? That land had become his portion of the Church, the sacred vineyard of his prayerful vigils, of his austere penances, of his labor and his love, of his griefs both hidden and known, of all his life, and now of his death. From the end of the road he had traveled, looking back, he saw that he had passed through dangers of every sort, but felt that the hand of God had drawn him safely through fire and storm; above all, he was comforted by the thought that he had always had the affection and loyalty of his people. …

(Unedited footage of Cardinal Schuster’s installation as archbishop in Milan cathedral, unfortunately without soundtrack. Particularly noteworthy is the Latin plaque shown at the beginning, which set over the door of the cathedral, and starts with the words “Enter (‘Ingredere’, in the imperative,) Alfred Ildephonse Schuster.” Starting at 1:20, one sees the extraordinarily large crowd in the famous Piazza del Duomo, far too large for them all to enter the cathedral for the ceremony itself, many of whom have climbed up onto the large equestrian statue of King Victor Emmanuel II. From the YouTube archive of the Italian film company Istituto Luce.)

The archbishop spoke of the recent canonization of St Pius X, saying among other things, “Not every act of his governance proved to be completely opportune and fruitful. The outcome of one’s rule in the Church, as a fact of history, is one thing, whether for good or ill; the holiness that drives it is another. And it is certain that every act of St Pius X’s pontificate was driven solely by a great and pure love of God. In the end, what counts for the true greatness of the Church and Her sons is love.”

He spoke of St Pius X, but he was certainly thinking also of himself, in answer to his own private questions. Looking back upon his long episcopacy, the results could perhaps have made him doubt the correctness of some of his decisions, or the justice of some of his measures; he might perhaps have thought that he had put his trust in both institutions and men that later revealed themselves unworthy of it. But on one point, his conscience had no doubts: in every thought and deed, he had always sought the Lord alone, had always taken His rights with the utmost seriousness, and preferred them above everything and every man, and even above himself. As his spiritual father, Bl. Placido Riccardi, had taught him when he was a young monk, the Saint is set apart from other men because he takes seriously the duties which fall to him in regard to God. …

One morning, the door of his room was left half-opened; from without, one could see the cardinal sitting at the table in the middle of the room in the full light of the window. His joined hands rested on the edge of the desk, with the breviary open before them; his face, lit by the sun, was turned towards heaven, his eyes closed, and his lips trembled as he murmured in prayer. A Saint was seen, speaking with the invisible presence of God; one could not look at him without a shiver of awe. I remembered then what he had confided to me some time before concerning his personal recitation of the Breviary, in the days when he found himself so worn out that he had no strength to follow the sense of the individual prayers.

“I close my eyes, and while my lips murmur the words of the Breviary which I know by heart, I leave behind their literal meaning, and feel that I am in that endless land where the Church, militant and pilgrim, passes, walking towards the promised fatherland. I breathe with the Church in the same light by day, the same darkness by night; I see on every side of me the forces of evil that beset and assail Her; I find myself in the midst of Her battles and victories, Her prayers of anguish and Her songs of triumph, in the midst of the oppression of prisoners, the groans of the dying, the rejoicing of the armies and captains victorious. I find myself in their midst, but not as a passive spectator; nay rather, as one whose vigilance and skill, whose strength and courage can bear a decisive weight on the outcome of the struggle between good and evil, and upon the eternal destinies of individual men and of the multitude.” …

He had decided to end his stay and continue on his way. In vain did the doctors and all his close friends ask him to stay longer – he was set to depart from Venegono on August 30. “Neither rest nor the treatments have helped me: I might as well return to Milan. If death comes, it will find me on my feet, at my place and working.” And he would indeed depart that Monday, but on a different voyage.

Giovanni Cardinal Colombo, 1902-92; archbishop of Milan 1963-79.

In the middle of the night, shortly after 1 o’clock in the morning of the 30th, the brother in charge of the infirmary called me to his sickbed. I found him alone, sitting on the bed, with his hands joined, in deep recollection. Just a moment before he had received the Holy Eucharist from his secretary, Mons. Terraneo.

“I wish for Extreme Unction. At once, at once.”

“Yes, Your Eminence; the doctor will be here in a few moments, and if necessary, I will give you Extreme Unction.”

With a voice full of anguish, he replied, “To die, I do not need the doctor, I need Extreme Unction. … be quick, death does not wait.”

Meanwhile, Agostino Castiglioni, the seminary doctor, had arrived, and after seeing his illustrious patient, told us that his condition was very serious, but did not seem to be such that we should fear his imminent death.

Assisted by Mons. Luigi Oldani, by Fr Giuseppe Mauri, and Mons. Ecclesio Terraneo, I began the sad, holy rite. He spoke first, with a clear and strong voice: “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Confiteor Deo omnipotenti...”

He followed every word with great devotion, answering every prayer clearly; at the right moment, he closed his eyes, and without being asked, offered the back of his hands for the holy oils.

When the sacrament has been given, sitting on the bed, he said with great simplicity, “I bless the whole diocese. I ask pardon for what I have done and what I have not done. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” He traced a wide Sign of the Cross before himself; then he lay down on the bed. The doctor at the moment realized that his heart was giving out.

“I am dying. Help me to die well.”

The signs of his impending death became more evident.

He groaned: “I cannot go on. I am dying.” …

He was told that in every chapel of the seminary, the various groups, the students of the theologate, the high school, the adult vocations, the oblate brothers, the sisters, were gathered in prayer and celebrating Masses for him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

He looked steadily upon each person who entered the room, as if he were trying to recognize someone for whom he was waiting. With his innate gentility, which did not fail even in his final agony, he invited those present to sit. “Please, have a seat!”

Again and again he repeated the prayers suggested to him, but at a certain point he said, “Now I can’t any more. Pray for me.” …

At 4:35, he let his head fall on the pillow, and groaned. His face became very red, then slowly lost its color. From the other side of the bed, the expression of the doctor, who was holding his wrist, told us that he no longer lived upon the earth. The heart of a Saint had ceased to beat. …

None of those present felt that they had attended three hours of agony, but rather, at a liturgy of three hours’ length. Three hours of darkness, but a darkness filled with the hope of the dawn that would rise in the eternal East. Three hours of suffering, but a suffering permeated by waves of infinite joy coming rapidly on. He spoke no uncontrolled words; his suffering, which was great, (he said “I cannot go on! I cannot go on!” several times), was indicated by quiet laments, as if in dying he were not living through the sufferings of his own flesh and spirit, but rather reading those of the Servant of the Lord in the rites of Holy Week. [2] He made no uncontrolled movements; his translucent hands, his arms, his head, all his slender body, held to the hieratic gestures of a pontifical service.

The archbishop’s death was in no way different from those of the ancient giants of holiness on whose writings he had long meditated, with such fervor as to become familiar with their very thoughts, their feelings and their deeds. A year before he died, describing their death in the Carmen Nuptiale [3], without knowing it, he prefigured his own death. “The death of the ancient Fathers was so dignified and serene! Many holy bishops of the Middle Ages wished to breathe their last in their cathedral, after the celebration of the Eucharist, and after exchanging the kiss of peace with the Christian community. Thus does St Gregory the Great describe the death of Cassius, bishop of Narni, of St Benedict, of St Equitius, etc. In the Ambrosian Missal, the death of St Martin is commemorated as follows: Whom the Lord and Master so loved, that he knew the hour in which he would leave the world. He gave the peace to all those present, and passed without fear to heavenly glory. [4] But what was it that made the death of these Saints so precious in the sight of God (Psalm 115, 6) and of the Church? In the fervor of their Faith, they rested solidly on the divine promise, and so set their feet on the threshold of eternity. ‘Rejoicing in the sure of the hope of divine reward….’ These are the words of St Benedict.” [5]

The Carmen Nuptiale was a truly prophetic swan song. Speaking of St Benedict, Schuster had written, “After the Holy Patriarch’s death, some of his disciples saw him ascend to the heavenly City by a way decorated with tapestries, and illuminated with candlesticks. This was the triumphal way by which the author of the Rule for Monks and the Ladder of Humility passed.”

The street which descends from the hill of the seminary, passing through Tradate, Lonate Ceppino, Fagnano Olona, Busto Arsizio, Saronno, and comes to Milan, was the triumphal way decorated with tapestries, illuminated by the blazing sun, on which not just a few disciples, but crowds without number, watched him pass, one who out of humility had refused all celebration of his 25th year of his episcopacy.

Who drove all those people, on that August 31st, to line the streets? Who drew the workers to come out of their factories, along the city walls? Who brought those men and women together, waiting for hours for the fleeting passage of his casket? Who drove the mothers to push their little ones towards that lifeless body? Why did they all make the Sign of the Cross, if his motionless hand could not lift itself to bless them? What did those countless lips murmur, what was it that they wished to confide to a dead man, or ask of him?

He himself gave the answer fifteen days before to the seminarians, speaking from the balcony of his rooms. “When a Saint passes by, everyone runs to see him.”

*   *   *

[1] “our playing fields and our movie theatres.” In the post-war period, Italian parishes built countless playing fields for various sports and movie theaters, to provide healthy activities for young people, while keeping them away from similar facilities run by the communists. This was especially common in the urban centers of the north, Milan most prominent among them, which were taking in large numbers of new residents from the poorer regions of the South.

[2] Isaiah 53, known as the Song of the Suffering Servant, is read at the Ambrosian Good Friday service ‘post Tertiam’, before the day’s principal account of the Lord’s Passion.

[3] “Carmen Nuptiale – Wedding Song” is the title of a poem on the monastic life written by the Bl. Schuster in the year before he died.

[4] The Transitorium (the equivalent of the Roman Communio) of the Ambrosian Mass of St Martin. “Quem sic amavit Magister et Dominus, ut horam sciret qua mundum relinqueret. Pacem dedit omnibus adstantibus: et securus pergit ad caelestem gloriam.”

[5] The Rule of St Benedict, chapter 7. “Securi de spe retributionis divinae... gaudentes.”

A Reliquary from the Time of St Ambrose

Today is the feast of a group of four Saints, the martyrs Nazarius and Celsus, who are traditionally said to have died at Milan in the middle of the first century, and Popes Victor I (ca. 189-99) and Innocent I (401-17). On the Ambrosian Calendar, the two martyrs have the day to themselves, and their feast is kept with a vigil; there is also a feast of the translation of Nazarius’ relics on May 10th.

The high altar of the church of the Holy Apostles and St Nazarius, commonly known as “San Nazaro in Brolo”, with the relics of St Nazarius.

In 395 AD, their bodies were discovered by St Ambrose in a garden outside the city; when the tomb of Nazarius was opened, his blood was seen to be as fresh as if he had just been wounded. His relics were then taken to a basilica which Ambrose had constructed about 15 years earlier, and dedicated to the Twelve Apostles; a large apse was added to the church, and the relics laid to rest in a crypt in the middle of it. In 1578, in the course of building a new altar for the church, a silver reliquary contemporary to the original construction of the basilica was discovered under the high altar, with relics of the Apostles Ss Peter and Paul inside it. St Ambrose himself attests that these relics had been given to him by Pope St Damasus I, for the first dedication of the church to the Twelve Apostles; St Charles was rather disappointed to find that they were not relics of their bodies, but relics “by contact”, pieces of cloth that had touched the Apostles’ bones. Nevertheless, he donated one of his own copes to wrap up the relics of St Nazarius, the Apostles, and four of his Sainted predecessors among the archbishops of Milan, who were buried in the church. The reliquary is now displayed in the museum of the Archdiocese of Milan; thanks to Nicola for all of these pictures.

On the lid of the reliquary are shown Christ and the Twelve Apostles. On the lower left are seen the baskets of fragments collected by the Apostles after the multiplication of the loaves and fishes; on the lower right, the six vessels of water turned into wine during the Wedding at Cana. The custom of representing Christ beardless to distinguish Him from the Father was still common in this era, although soon to fade away. The classical style of all five of the panels is very typical of the highest quality artworks of the era, as one would expect from a work commissioned by a man of aristocratic background and high political rank like St Ambrose; this is particularly evident in the pose of the standing figures, which are very reminiscent of the better Roman statues.

Joseph sitting in judgment on his brothers; the young prisoner on the left is Benjamin, the older one on the right is Judah. The hat worn by Joseph and the other brothers, known as a Phrygian cap, was generically associated by the Romans with peoples of the Eastern Mediterranean and beyond, and often adopted by the Christians to represent the characters in the Old Testament.

The Three Children in the Furnace, also wearing the Phrygian cap, and the angel that comes to make the inside of the furnace cool.

The Judgment of Solomon.

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The Basilica of St Victor in Milan

The church of Milan today celebrates the feast of the martyr St Victor, a Christian soldier from the Roman province of Africa, who was killed in the first year of the persecution of Diocletian, 303 AD, while serving at Milan under the Emperor Maximian. He is usually called “Maurus - the Moor” to distinguish him from the innumerable other Saints called Victor, which was a very common name in the Roman world. St Mirocles, bishop of the city at the time of the Edict of Milan, originally buried the martyr in a small basilica just outside the city walls; in the later part of the 4th century, St Ambrose translated the relics to a chapel built for that purpose, within the basilica where he himself was later buried, and which is now named for him. (This chapel, San Vittore in Ciel d’Oro, contains the famous mosaic portrait of St Ambrose.) In the 9th century, the relics were returned to the original basilica, known as St Victor ‘ad corpus’, and have remained there ever since; they were officially recognized as authentic by the Bl. Schuster in 1941. In the mid-16th century, the church was completely rebuilt by the Olivetan monks who then had charge of it. Once again, our thanks to Nicola for sharing his pictures of one of the many beautiful churches of his city.

The architect Galeazzo Alessi, who had charge of the rebuilding project, intended to build a portico in front, but this was never realized, leaving the upper and lower parts of the façade with this rather disjointed appearance.

The main altar, which contains the relics of St Victor, was consecrated by St Charles Borromeo in 1576, when the rebuilding of the church was almost completed.

The main altar seen from behind, in the monastic choir. (The Olivetans were expelled from the church in 1805, during the Napoleonic suppression of religious houses; it is now a parish.)

The cupola is decorated with figures of the four Evangelists by Daniele Crespi (1598-1630) in the pendentives; eight Sybils by Gugliemo Caccia, known as “Il Monclavo” (1568-1625), in the drum, and eighty Angels in the dome itself, also by Caccia.

In the ceiling of the choir, The Coronation of the Virgin, by Ercole Procaccini the Younger (1605-75.)

The tabernacle of the main altar.

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The Tomb of St Peter Martyr in Milan’s Portinari Chapel

Here are some great photos from our Ambrosian correspondent Nicola de’ Grandi of the Portinari Chapel at the Basilica of St Eustorgio in Milan. They were taken during a special night-time opening made possible by a new lighting system; as one might well imagine, the Italians are extraordinarily good at this sort of thing, and more and more museums throughout the country are now offering occasional visits in the evening or night. The chapel is famous as the place where the relics of St Peter Martyr are housed in a large medieval “ark”, which, as noted several years ago in a guest article by our friend Dr Donald Prudlo, was designed so that the faithful could pass under it to touch and kiss it.

The ark of St Peter Martyr was carved by Giovanni di Balduccio in 1339, but has only been in the Portinari Chapel since the 18th century. The major panels on the front show St Peter’s funeral, his canonization, and a posthumous miracle by which he saves a ship in danger.

On the back, St Peter heals a mute, causes a cloud to cover the sun while he preaches outdoors, and heals a sick man and an epileptic.

This inscription records the praises of St Peter by his confrere St Thomas Aquinas. “When St Thomas Aquinas had visited the grave of St Peter as he was traveling to France in the year 1265, wondering at so great a martyr, he said ‘A herald, lantern, fighter for Christ, for the people and for the faith, here rests, here is covered, here lies, wickedly murdered. A sweet voice to the sheep, a most pleasing light of spirits, and sword of the Word, fell by the sword of the Cathars. Christ makes him marvelous, the devout people adore him, and the Faith which he kept by martyrdom adorns him as a Saint. But Christ makes new signs speak, and new light is given to the crowd, and the Faith spread (thereby) shines in this city.”

The dome and vaults of the chapel, painted by Vincenzo Foppa from 1464-68. 

On the left, the miracle of the cloud; on the right, a very famous apparition in which the devil appeared to St Peter in the guise of Virgin, but was driven off when St Peter showed him a Eucharistic Host and told the apparition, “If you are truly the Mother of God, then adore your Son!”

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The Relics of the Magi in Cologne and Milan

In some liturgical books of the Use of Cologne, Germany, today is noted in the calendar as “Obitus tertii regis – the death of the third king”, but it appears that this feast was never in general use within the archdiocese. (It is missing from many books altogether, especially the post-Tridentine editions, and in others is relegated to an appendix.) The kings to which this title refers are the three Magi, whose relics were taken from the basilica of St Eustorgio in Milan in 1162 by the German emperor Frederick Barbarossa, after his conquest of the city. The relics were given to the imperial chancellor for Italy, Rainald von Dassel, who was also archbishop of Cologne, and installed in his see’s cathedral; to this day, Cologne still celebrates the feast of the translation of the relics on July 23rd. The impetus to build the city’s gigantic “new” cathedral (begun in 1248, but not completed until 1880, with a hiatus of over 280 years, from 1560-1842) came in no small part from the desire to build a space that could accommodate the large crowds of pilgrims who came to venerate these relics. (Images of and related to the Cologne reliquary from Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0 unless otherwise noted.)

Image from Wikimedia Commons by Raimond Spekking

In 1190, von Dassel’s successor as archbishop, Philip von Heinsberg, commissioned a goldsmith from Verdun named Nicolas to make a new reliquary for the Magi. It was finished after 35 years of work, and is one of the largest medieval reliquaries that survives: more than 3’ 7” by 7’ 2” at the base, just over 5 feet tall, and weighing over 1100 pounds. The core is made of oak, covered over with gold, gilded copper and silver, and decorated with small golden statues, precious stones, gems, cameos and enamels. Over the centuries, it has been kept in various parts of the cathedral; since 1948, it has stood in a display case right behind the high altar.

by Arabsalam

The reliquary seen from the back, within the ambulatory of the apse.

by Joseacaraballo

The front has a plate which can be removed to expose a grill, behind which can be seen the skulls of the three kings. This is done every year on the Epiphany, and on special occasions.

by Elya

The lower part of the front is divided by highly decorated columns which form an arcade. In the middle sit the Virgin and Child, as the Magi approach from the left. Behind the Magi stands the Holy Roman Emperor Otto IV (1209-18), who donated three golden crowns for the three skulls in 1200. (These were stolen and melted down in 1803.) To the right is shown the Baptism of Christ, and above, Christ in majesty flanked by two angels. Above Him are the archangels Gabriel and Raphael in round medallions; St Michael was replaced by a jewel. (Obviously, the glass case in which the reliquary is kept for security purposes makes for less than optimal photography. The next four images are all by Velopilger, CC0 1.0.)

On the back are shown on the left the Flagellation of Christ, and on the right, the Crucifixion, with the Virgin Mary and the Apostle John. The prophet between them is labelled as Jeremiah, but the text on his scroll is from Isaiah. Above the prophet is a portrait of Rainald von Dassel, and in the upper section, the personification of the virtue of Patience, flanked by the Milanese martyrs Felix and Nabor, whose putative relics were also brought to Cologne, and formerly kept in this reliquary.

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Abp Colombo of Milan Taking Possession of the Cathedral in 1963

Today being the third Sunday of October, in the Ambrosian Rite it is the feast of the dedication of the cathedral of Milan. On this same day and feast in 1963, His Excellency Giovanni Colombo, who had been appointed to the see of St Ambrose earlier that year (on August 10), formally took possession of and solemnly entered his cathedral. (He was raised to the cardinalate in 1965, and retired at the very end of 1979, passing away in May of 1992.) The first picture here shows how the sanctuary of the cathedral was set up for the ceremony; this is followed by pictures of his procession from the archiepiscopal seminary, the solemn entrance, a color photo of the Mass, and finally, the archbishop imparting his blessing to the enormous crowd gathered in the piazza in front of the Duomo. Many thanks to Nicola de’ Grandi for sharing these with us.

In the photograph below, we can see a metal grill in the floor of the Duomo in front of the sanctuary. This is part of the “scurolo”, the chapel which contains the relics of St Charles, which had an open ceiling looking up into the Duomo. Unfortunately, Cardinal Colombo himself decided to effect the post-Conciliar rearrangement of the sanctuary by closing this aperture with a large piece of concrete, and planting the versus populum altar on top of it. The recent renovation of the scurolo was necessitated in part by the atmospheric problems created by the lack of air circulation between the crypt and the nave. As seen in the photo above, the Mass in 1963 was celebrated on a forward facing altar temporarily erected on a raised platform over the scurolo.

The archbishop leaves from the seminary building.

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The Basilica of the Virgin Mary “at St Celsus” in Milan

In the Ambrosian and Roman Rites, today is the feast of the martyrs Nazarius and Celsus; in the latter, they are celebrated liturgically together with two Popes, Victor I (died 199) and Innocent I (401-17). Nazarius is said to have been a Roman who in the very earliest years of Christianity preached the Faith in northern Italy, and to have been beheaded at Milan in the reign of the Emperor Nero, together with a boy named Celsus who accompanied him on his missionary journeys. Their burial place was discovered in a small woods by St Ambrose not long before he died in 397, and the body of St Nazarius, whose blood was as fresh as if it had just been shed, was conveyed to a church originally dedicated to the Apostles. At the same time, a small church was built in the place of the discovery, and St Celsus was buried there. Beginning in the late 15th century, a much larger church, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, was built next to it, and in 1935, the Bl. Ildephonse Schuster had the Saint’s relics transferred there. (Photos by Nicola de’ Grandi; some historical images of the church, and pictures of some relics of the Bl. Ildephonse Schuster, are included below.)

The relics of St Celsus.

The relics were for many centuries kept in this sarcophagus, made sometime between the end of the 3rd and mid-4th century. On the left is one of the earliest know depictions of the Birth of Christ with the ox and the ass; the three kings are shown traveling not towards the infant Christ, but rather to the Christ in majesty of the Traditio Legis in the center. On the right are the three Marys at the tomb, and Christ’s appearance to St Thomas. (On the sides, not seen here, are Moses making water run from the rock, and the healing of the woman with the issue of blood.)

The church of St Celsus, originally built in the 4th century, but completely rebuilt in the 11th; the front of it was then partly demolished at the end of 18th century, and this neo-Romanesque façade added in the 19th. The church is only occasionally open...

and the interior is extremely austere.

Next door, however, is the very splendid basilica dedicated to the Virgin Mary, built to house a miraculous image of Her (shown below), a project which was begun in the late 15th century, and completed at the end of the 16th. Here we see the church of St Celsus on the right, the cupola of the Marian church (1498), its façade (designed by Galeazzo Alessi, modified and constructed by Martino Bassi, 1572), and the portico in front of it by Cristoforo Solari (begun in 1505).

A closer view of the façade.

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Interesting Saints on July 17

Prior to the 1960 reform of the Missal and Breviary, July 17 was kept in the Roman Rite as the feast of a confessor named Alexius. The single proper Matins lesson for his feast states that he was of a noble family, and that on the night of his wedding, “by a particular command of God”, he left his bride untouched, and went abroad as a pilgrim for seventeen years. After spending much time in the Syrian city of Edessa (once a very important center of Christianity), he returned to Rome. There he was welcomed, wholly unrecognized, into the house of his own parents, and died after another seventeen years; when his body was discovered, he had with him a written account of his whole life. The martyrology adds that at his death, he was recognized not only by the writing he had left behind, but also “by a voice heard throughout the churches of the City.” The common tradition, attested in many other versions of his legend, states that after he came back to Rome, he lived under the staircase of the house like Harry Potter; the purported stairs can still be seen to this day in the Roman basilica dedicated to him on the Aventine Hill.

The chapel with the basilica of Ss Boniface and Alexius, which contains the relics of the latter; the stairs under which he lived are mounted on the reredos. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Kent Wang, CC BY-SA 2.0.)

It hardly needs to be stated that no aspect of this prima facie improbable story can be taken as true. Among many other things, it is said to have happened during the papacy of St Innocent I, who reigned from 401-17, and yet there is no trace of it in any Western source before the later 10th century. That includes the many writings of Pope Innocent’s contemporaries such as Ss Jerome, Augustine and Paulinus of Nola, all of whom had regular contact with Rome.

And indeed, the church of Rome was long very chary of including this legend in its liturgy. Before the breviary of St Pius V was published in 1568, St Alexius had regularly appeared in Roman liturgical calendars for over 350 years, and likewise, on the calendars of many other medieval Uses. However, the feast was otherwise not mentioned in the Roman liturgical books; no Mass was indicated in the proper of the Saints in the missal, and no lesson or collect was given in the breviary.

It is now generally recognized that the story of Alexius is based on that of a saint from Edessa known only as “the man of God”, who lived there as a homeless beggar in the early 5th century. He is said to have given most of the money which he received to those in even worse condition than himself, and to have confided to someone in the hospice where he died that he was the son of a Roman nobleman. By the later 10th century, the legend had expanded to give this man the name Alexius (or Alexis in Greek), and when a metropolitan of Damascus called Sergius, exiled to Rome from Syria, was given charge of a basilica dedicated to an equally legendary martyr called Boniface, he added Alexius as its co-titular Saint. (The breviary lessons for St Benedict Joseph Labré (1748-83), a Frenchman who lived by begging his way from shrine to shrine as a pilgrim, describe him as one who “followed in the arduous steps of St Alexius.”)

This icon, known as “the Madonna of Saint Alexius” or “of Edessa”, is traditionally said to have been in Edessa in the time of St Alexius, and greatly venerated by him when he lived in that city, then brought to his Roman basilica by the bishop Sergius mentioned above. It is now generally thought to have been made in Byzantium in the 12th or 13th century. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons, by Beloved Olga.)

On the same day, the martyrology notes the death of the Scillitan Martyrs, a group of twelve Christians, seven men and five women, from a town called Scilla in North Africa, who were martyred for the Faith at Carthage in 180 AD. (Scilla was a suffragan of Carthage, about 172 miles to the southwest of it.) Their written acts are universally recognized as historically accurate, and are also the first account of a martyrdom preserved to us from that region, which gave the Church many martyrs in the early centuries. A basilica was dedicated to them at Carthage, and three sermons which St Augustine preached in it on their feast day are preserved. In the first of these, he refers to the ancient custom by which the acts of the martyrs were read during the Mass, the custom which led to their preservation.

“The holy martyrs, the witnesses of God, preferred by dying to live, lest by living they should die; they disdained life by loving life, lest by fearing death they should deny life. The enemy promised life, so that Christ might be denied, but not life such as Christ promised it. Believing, therefore, that which was promised by the Savior, they laughed at the threat of the persecutor. Brethren, when we celebrate the solemnities of the martyrs, we know that examples have been set forth for us, which we can obtain by imitating them. For we do not increase the glory of the martyrs by keeping this assembly; their crown is known to the companies of the angels. We could hear what they suffered when it was being read, but that which they received, ‘eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.’ (1 Cor. 2, 9)” (Sermo 299/D in init.)

The cathedral of St John the Baptist in Lyon, France. Amid the violence of the ninth century, described below in reference to Pope St Leo IV, the relics of St Cyprian and the Scillitan Martyrs were brought here from Africa for safe keeping; some of the latter were later brought to the basilica of Ss John and Paul on the Caelian hill in Rome. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Otourly, CC BY-SA 3.0) 

In the Ambrosian Rite, July 17 is the feast of St Marcellina, the older sister of St Ambrose, who helped her mother to raise him and their brother Satyrus after the death of their father. From her youth, she wished to dedicate herself entirely to God, and was consecrated as a virgin and veiled by Pope Liberius on Christmas of 353 in St Peter’s Basilica. (This event is an early attestation of the Roman system of station churches.) St Ambrose addressed his treatise On Virginity to her, and at the beginning of the third book, preserves the address which Liberius gave at the time, beginning as follows:

“You… my daughter, have desired a good espousal. You see how great a crowd has come together for the birthday of your Spouse, and none has gone away without food. This is He, Who, when invited to the marriage feast, changed water into wine. He, too, will confer the pure sacrament of virginity on you who before were subject to the vile elements of material nature.”

The monument and relics of Saint Marcellina, in the Milanese basilica dedicated to her brother. Photo by Nicola de’ Grandi.

After her brother’s election as bishop of Milan, Marcellina visited him there many times, and advised him on the pastoral care of consecrated women, but continued to make her home in Rome, living, as aristocratic woman often did, in a private home, but very austerely. She outlived Ambrose, who died on April 4, 397, but the exact date of her death is unknown.

July 17 is also the anniversary of the death of Pope St Leo IV in 855, after a reign of just over eight years and two months. In his time, Saracen pirates were wreaking havoc throughout the western Mediterranean; the year before his election, they had sailed up the Tiber and sacked the basilica of St Paul Outside-the-Walls, destroying at least a large portion of the Apostle’s relics. His papacy began with the construction of major works to defend Rome, including a new set of walls around the Vatican, which are still called the Leonine walls to this day, and the complex as a whole was known as the Leonine city. (This used to be the name of the bus stop in front of Cardinal Ratzinger’s old apartment building, ‘Città Leonina’ in Italian.)

In the year of his election, 847, he put out a fire which had broken out in the Borgo, the neighborhood in front of the Vatican, by giving his blessing from the balcony of St Peter’s. Two years later, he formed a league with the maritime states of Naples, Gaeta and Amalfi; at the battle of Ostia, their combined naval forces destroyed a massive Saracen invasion force which had set out from Sardinia. Both of these events are depicted in one of the rooms now within the Vatican Museums known as the Stanze of Raphael, but these specific paintings are really the works of his students.

The Fire in the Borgo, by the workshop of Raphael, 1514-17. The three male figures on the left are a nod to the story of Aeneas escaping from the burning of Troy; their exaggerated musculature, and that of the man next to them hanging from the wall, reflects the exaggerated influence of the recently discovered statue of Laocoön, which also greatly influenced the work of Michelangelo. This painting was much admired for the cleverly designed figure on the far right, the woman with a water-jar on her head, who has just turned the corner, and opens her mouth in astonishment at the scene. ~ A few years prior to the commissioning of this painting, Pope Julius II and his architect Donatello Bramante had begun the process of replacing the ancient basilica of St Peter, then almost on the point of collapse. This image is an important historical record of what its façade looked like at the time.

The Battle of Ostia, also by the workshop of Raphael, 1514-15. Pope St Leo IV presides over the battle from the far left in cope and papal tiara, as one does; his face is that of the contemporary Pope, Leo X Medici.

The collection of papal biographies known as the Liber Pontificalis contains an enormous list of his works in and benefactions to Roman churches, and he translated the relics of many Saints from the catacombs outside the city to churches within it. He is also traditionally, but erroneously, credited with the invention of the Asperges rite, and the sermon on the duties of priests which the Pontificale appoints to be read by the bishop at their ordination.

The revised Butler’s Lives of the Saints also includes on this day St Clement of Okhrida, who is reckoned as one of the seven Apostles of the Bulgarians. His feast is kept on July 27, but this was apparently the day of his burial, ten days after his death.

Clement was born ca. 835; his ethnic origins and place of birth are not quite certain, but he is generally thought to have been a Slav, born in the Balkan territories of the Byzantine Empire. It is disputed whether he was a Bulgar himself. (The Bulgars were not originally Slavs, but of the same Turkic stock as the Huns and the modern Turks, later Slavicized when they settled in the Balkans.) He became a disciple and collaborator of Ss Cyril and Methodius in their mission to Great Moravia, and led it after Methodius’ death, but was soon expelled from the area, and came down to Bulgaria. The king at that time, Boris I, was to Bulgaria what Constantine had been to Rome, and what Saints Vladimir and Olga would later be to Kyivan Rus’. But Boris was much concerned to keep his kingdom politically free of his Byzantine neighbors, and therefore wished the Church in his domain to use Slavonic, rather than Greek.

An icon of St Clement of Okhrida, with his teachers Ss Cyril and Methodius above him, the former (on the right) holding a scroll with some of the letters of the Glagolitic alphabet. From the Bulgarian monastery on Mt Athos, Zographou, founded in the later 10th century by monks from Okrida. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Yane Bakreski, CC BY-SA 4.0)

The invention of Church Slavonic as a literary idiom, created specifically to translate the Bible and the Byzantine liturgy, was the work of Cyril and Methodius. They also created an alphabet to write it with, since there are many sounds in the Slavic languages for which the Greek and Latin alphabets have no letter. This alphabet, however, was not the one which bears Cyril’s name, and which is still used to write Church Slavonic in modern liturgical books, and (with variations) its many daughter languages. It was rather a very different kind of script known as Glagolitic, from an old Slavic word for “word”.

The so-called Cyrillic alphabet was actually invented about 30 years after Cyril’s death at one of the two literary schools which Clement and his collaborators founded in Bulgaria. Ironically, although this was done to favor Bulgaria’s cultural and political independence from the Greek-speaking Byzantines, it is effectively the Greek alphabet with several letters added for Slav-specific sounds, and some of the Greek letters relegated to use only in Greek loan-words. After the controversies which brought the mission of Ss Cyril and Methodius to naught, it was the work of these schools which definitively established Church Slavonic’s place as a liturgical language.

The early Cyrillic alphabet.

The Paleo-Christian Basilica of St Simplician in Milan

On the Ambrosian calendar, today is the very ancient feast of a group of three martyrs called Sisinnius, Martyrius and Alexander. They were originally from Cappadocia in Asia Minor, but in the days of St Ambrose, came to Milan, then the de facto imperial capital. At that time, all of northern Italy belonged to the ecclesiastical province of Milan, and St Vigilius, the bishop of Trent, had asked his metropolitan for assistance in evangelizing his region. The mission was entrusted to the three Cappadocians, Sisinnius being ordained deacon, Martyrius a lector, and Alexander a porter. In the valley of Anaunia to the north of Trent, they were able to make a good number of converts, and build a church in one of the villages. (All the photos in this article are by Nicola de’ Grandi.)

The relics of St Sisinnius, Martyrius and Alexander in the basilica of St Simplician in Milan. 

Here, they were attacked by the local pagans on the day of a festival, and Sisinnius was beaten so badly that he died a few hours later. In the letter describing their martyrdom, St Vigilius notes that Martyrius was able to hide in a garden attached to the church, but he was unwilling to abandon the sacred place; when he was discovered and taken the next day, the pagans had to fix him to a stake in order to drag him away. Before they could get him to the idol before which they would have sought to compel him to offer sacrifice, he died from being dragged over the sharp stones on the route. Alexander was also taken, and having resisted all attempts to make him repudiate the Faith, he was thrown alive in the fire on which the bodies of the other two were being burned. As happened with many other martyrs, the faithful carefully gathered up the Saints’ ashes, and brought them to Vigilius, who later built a new church on the site of the martyrdom. On two different occasions, Vigilius sent relics of the martyrs to a fellow bishop, once to St Simplician, St Ambrose’s personal friend and later successor, and again to St John Chrysostom; the letters which accompanied them both survive. (Simplician, by the way, was the priest of Milan chosen to complete Ambrose’s instruction in the Faith when the latter, still a catechumen, was chosen bishop by popular acclamation. He outlived his famous student, even though he was older than him, but only by a few years.)

During his time as bishop of Milan, St Ambrose had built four basilicas at roughly the four cardinal points of the city, dedicated to the Apostles, the Prophets, the Martyrs and the Virgins, as a way of reinforcing the city’s Christian character and placing it under the protection of the Saints. When the relics of the martyrs Gervasius and Protasius were discovered, they were placed in the Basilica of the Martyrs on the west side of the city; St Ambrose then arranged for himself to be buried there with them, and the church has subsequently been renamed for him. The same happened with St Simplician, who placed the relics of the three martyrs of Anaunia in the basilica of the Virgins on the north side of the city, arranging for himself to be buried there, and the church is now renamed for him.

The relics of St Simplician in the same church.

As is almost always the case with such ancient churches, the building has undergone many transformations since its original construction. However, the basic structure of the chapel made to house the martyrs’ relics survives; recent archeological study has confirmed that it dates to the very late 4th or early 5th century, the period of Simplician’s episcopacy.

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