Should Communion Sometimes Be Eliminated to Avoid Sacrilege?

In a post at his Substack entitled “Nobody is talking about this in the Catholic world,” Patrick Giroux has the courage and good sense to raise the issue of the indiscriminate reception of the Lord at weddings and funerals where many attendees are not Catholics, or, if Catholics, not practicing, not in accord with Church teaching, or not in a state of grace (or all of the above)—all of whom go up and receive anyway, with priests, deacons, and lay “ministers” handing out the Body of Christ as if it meant, and was, nothing more than a potato chip (we can’t even say it’s a sign, because if it were a sign, it would be a sign of membership in the Church, and, by definition, the foregoing categories are not actually members). Giroux suggests a fairly radical solution: do not distribute Communion at weddings and funerals.

It is hard not to sympathize with this suggestion. It is wrong for anyone who is not properly disposed for receiving the Lord to receive Him: objectively sinful and displeasing to God, wreaking havoc on souls and on the Church. Giroux implies that the current sick and dying condition of the Church is in part caused by an epidemic of sinful communions. This, after all, is the view of the Apostle: “For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning the body of the Lord. Therefore are there many infirm and weak among you, and many sleep” (1 Cor 11:29).

I posted this article on social media with the following caveat:

The “solution” proposed here—to discontinue Communion at weddings and funerals—is too radical. However, his “second best” idea is perfectly right: a clear announcement should be made from the pulpit about who should and who should not receive. This is not only owed in justice to Our Lord but is also an act of charity to the attendees. I have found that something like this is done universally at TLM locations.

A long-time friend of mine, seeing the article I shared, was obviously not in sympathy with the author’s suggestion, writing to me as follows.

Dear Peter,
       I hope you’re doing well. I want to ask you to consider writing an article about the problem with suggesting that the answer to sacrilegious communions is to straight across reduce the number of communions. The “solution” in Giroux article you shared just after Christmas was profoundly disturbing, and the comments perhaps more so. I saw you agreed it was too radical, and had hoped you might post more fully about this. The idea that we should categorically reduce Communions by forbidding them at, e.g., weddings and funerals so as to counteract the grave problem of sacrilegious Communions misses the whole problem. Sacrilegious communions are a spiritual problem. The most effective weapon against them is good Communions. We go from the altar “like lions breathing forth fire.” Christ was willing to risk having a whole twelfth of His first congregation make a sacrilegious Communion in order to give the gift of that first Communion of the Apostles to them, and to the Church forever.
       There is a whiff of sulfur (unintentional, I’m sure, but nonetheless there) in the suggestion that we should be so focused on sacrilegious Communions that we be willing to give up good Communions. I certainly understand people being concerned and grieved over bad Communions. Still, aside from other considerations, it’s myopic to think that all weddings or funerals lack the needed announcements about fitting reception. But besides acknowledging that fact, it’s more important for people to realize that to categorically reduce the Mystical Body of Christ’s access to the Eucharistic Body of Christ directly vitiates our power to fight the darkness. It’s very Jansenistic; and Jansenism is finally not only a prideful reliance on one’s own powers, but a total lack of appreciation of God’s power. It’s Jansenistic to think that God is so weak in the Eucharist that we need habitually to take Communion away from good communicants in a desperate attempt to stop bad communicants.
       When Our Lord instituted the Eucharist, He foresaw untold numbers of sacrilegious Communions. Yet He still said, “Take and eat” to us. For sure, He didn’t say, “Take and eat, and don’t bother telling anyone that they should be believing Catholics in a state of grace.” But He also didn’t say, “Don’t take and eat, because someone might choose wrongly and receive me sacrilegiously.” If that was His greatest concern, He wouldn’t have bothered instituting the Sacrament. Setting up excessive barriers between the faithful and Christ in the Eucharist is a Jansenistic attempt at hyper-control. In both cases, the effect is alienation from the desperately needed good God is offering us. I’d note, too, that removing Communion from weddings would habitually deprive all married couples of the huge graces which come from the good Communions made at their wedding. I remember at our wedding, as I marveled a bit over how long Communion went on, thinking that one of the great things about having many good guests at one’s wedding was having so many good Communions made at this pivotal time.

My response:

Dear Friend,

I haven’t written further about this but I have written in defense of frequent communion in a number of articles, against neo-Jansenists. I’m not at all friendly to Jansenism, as my articles on dancing indicated.

Generally, I would agree with you about not discouraging reception of communion for those who are well-disposed. Giroux did not say Catholics should be habitually denied opportunity for Communion, and I am not sure many people hold that view. Rather, he said on occasions when there will be a lot of non-Catholics or non-practicing Catholics, and this can be known relatively easily ahead of time.

What I think you are not taking into account is that most weddings and funerals are, sadly, not like the ones where Thomas Aquinas College or Christendom College or Wyoming Catholic College alumni get married and their devout friends and families come, most of them in a state of grace (indeed, probably having been to Confession in the recent past). Rather, according to priests I know, these are the occasions when the highest number of fallen-away Catholics, Catholics living in states of sin, and clueless unbelievers attend. Moreover, it is in fact not at all common for clear announcements to be made; once again, this tends to be done at more conservative or traditional events, where, ironically, the announcement is less needed. Giroux’s proposal was not to abolish communion tout court so that no sacrilegious communions are ever made, but rather, to consider doing so for weddings and funerals of that sort.

The weakness in his article is that he does not make any distinction between different kinds of congregations and the discernment a priest would have to make. He also errs in depriving (at least by implication) the wedding couple itself of Communion. Instead, they should be shriven shortly before the wedding, and then receive the Holy Eucharist. The Eucharist, after all, is, like Christian marriage itself, sign of the nuptial union between Christ and His Church, and effects that union in us, so it would be perfectly absurd not to have the couple receive.

More generally, I would say that your comments may reveal an insufficient appreciation of the gravity of sacrilegious communions, as we find this highlighted in saints from St. John Chrysostom to St. John Vianney. Our Lord does tolerate this evil, as He does many another evil, from the Holocaust to the dire plague of abortion; but as John Paul II and Benedict XVI acknowledged, the indiscriminate reception of the Lord without due preparation and even in a state of sin—which is, as you know, an additional sin for the one receiving, at least objectively speaking, something displeasing to God and worthy of damnation—is practically an epidemic at this point.

We need, in fact, to reinstall some “barriers,” both physical and moral, to make sure that people do not stupidly eat and drink their own condemnation. We need communion rails to be put up again, and even rood screens; we need to abolish Communion in the hand and standing, replacing it with Communion kneeling and on the tongue, assisted by a server with a paten; we need to abolish “Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion” altogether; and have Confessions going on during Masses whenever possible. (On these matters, see my book Holy Bread of Eternal Life.)

I appreciate your concerns, but I wanted to push back just a bit in defense of Giroux, while also agreeing that orthodoxy and Jansenism have to be separated (they seem to share a razor-sharp border).

Yours in Christ,

Peter

Durandus on Prayer for the Dead (Part 4): Funeral Customs

This post concludes our series of excerpts from the entry on All Souls’ Day in William Durandus’ Rationale Divinorum Officiorum (7.35), the Summa Theologiae of medieval liturgical commentaries. This entry is one of the longest sections of the seventh book, which covers the Sanctoral cycle, and covers basically every aspect of the Church’s prayers for the dead. Click these links to read part 1, part 2 and part 3.

Now we must see how a body ought to be buried. When a man seems to be in extremis, he should be laid on the ground upon ashes, or at least upon hay, which indicates that he is dust, and unto dust he shall return. This is done following the example of the blessed Martin, who ended his life lying upon ashes, in order to give an example to others. And if the person dying is literate, the passion of the Lord should be read in his presence, or at least a part of it, so that he may be moved to greater compunction. A cross should be set up at his feet, so that as he is dying, he may by looking upon it be more contrite, and be converted. He should also lie on his back, so that with his face upright, he may look upon heaven, following the example of the blessed Martin, and his soul be commended to the Lord before he expires.

The Death of St Martin, 1490, by the workshop of the German painter Derick Baegert (1440-1515). Note the straw mat under his body; one can hardly fail to note the two-headed demon at the head of the bed, to whom Martin said just before he died, “Why are you standing here, cruel beast? You shall find no cause for grief in me!” (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.) 

After he dies, the bells should be rung (so that the people may hear it and pray for him). Then the body should be washed, unless the person was anointed shortly before he died, to signify that if the soul is cleansed from sin through confession and contrition, both the body and the soul will obtain eternal exaltation and glory on the day of judgment; and likewise for this reason, as Job says, they truly die in the Lord and are blessed who bear no stain with them, but in this world leave (every stain behind) through penance. But in both the Old and the New Testament, nothing is done about this washing if it is omitted (i.e. no penalty is prescribed for omitting it), so it is not a matter of particular importance. As Augustine says in his book On the Care to be Taken for the Dead, that which is done for a human body after death is not a help to salvation, but the duty of humanity. (cap. 18 in medio. This passage was added to the Office of All Souls’ Day by the breviary reform of St Pius X.)

Nonetheless, since Mary Magdalene anointed the Lord before his passion (for when He was about to die, she did this, which she could not have done once He had already died, as the Lord says, “She is come beforehand to anoint my body for burial”), from this it can be proved that the bodies of the dead are to be washed. For as Jerome says, in those parts of the world, they use ointments instead of baths.

Mary Magdalene Anoints the Feet of Christ in the House of Simon the Pharisee, ca. 1520, by the Veronese painter Bonifazio de’ Pitati, also known as Bonifacio Veronese (1487-1553). Image from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, CC BY 3.0.

A canon of the council of Toledo established that those who depart from this life at God’s call should be brought to burial with psalms, only sung by human voices (i.e. without instrumental accompaniment). The dead man ought to be carried by those who share his state in life, i.e., a deacon by deacons, a priest by priests etc. … but if he belongs to a confraternity, he should be carried by his fellow members. …

While they are carried from their house to the church or the place of burial, according to the custom of some places, three stops are made on the way. First, to signify that by living in this life in such a way that he could be worthily presented to the Lord and enjoy perpetual rest with the other Saints, he exercised himself especially in three things, namely, in the love of the Lord, in charity to his neighbor, and in keeping himself (in grace); or else because he lived and died in the faith of the Holy Trinity. Secondly, to represent that the Lord rested for three days within the earth. Third, the three pauses are made on the way so that through the three parts of the psalmody which is then said, there may be done the threefold absolution from sins committed in three ways, that is, by thought, by word and by deed.

Then he is laid in the burial place, and in some places blessed water is put in it, and coals with incense. The blessed water is so that demons, which fear it very much, may not come near the body… incense to take away the stench of the body, or so that we may understand that the dead person offered to his Creator the acceptable odor of good works, or to show that the help of prayer benefits the dead. Carbons are put in to bear witness that the land can no longer be reduced to common usages, for carbon lasts longer upon the earth than anything else. Ivy, laurel, and plants of this sort, those which always preserve their greenness, are laid out in the sarcophagus, to signify those who die in Christ shall not cease to live, for although they died to the world according to the body, nevertheless they live according to the soul, and revive unto God. …

A bishop incenses a cross with three candles on its, set up for the solemn blessing of a cemetery according to the Pontifical of Clement VIII. (Image used by the kind permission of the Pitts Theological Library, Candler School of Theology at Emory University.)

These things are done, not because there is any sense left in cadavers, but as a figure, namely, either so that men may hope for the resurrection, or for God’s mercy, or to bring His benevolence, since such offices of piety are pleasing to Him. Now a man should be buried in such a way that his head is towards the West, and his feet towards the East, as if he were praying in that position, which signifies that he is ready to hasten from the setting of the sun to its rising, that is, from the world to eternity. And wherever a Christian is buried outside a cemetery, a cross must always be put at his head to signify that he was a Christian, because the devil greatly dreads this sign, and fears to come to a place marked with the sign of the Cross.

Faithful Christians ought also to be buried with a cloth on the face, the custom which country people observe, taking it from the Gospel, in which we read about the face-cloth and shroud of Christ. Some people sew sack-cloth onto this, so that by this garment they may represent the signs of penance, for ashes and sackcloth are the arms of the penitent. Nor should the dead be dressed in common clothes, as they do in Italy, and, as some people say, they ought to be wearing shoes, to signify that they are ready for the judgment (i.e. to stand before Christ at the judgment).

If they are ordained as clerics, they should be clothed the instruments which the orders that they have require … and although in the other orders this practice is often omitted because of poverty, with a priest or a bishop, it should never be omitted, for the priestly vestments signify the virtues, with which those two orders above all others ought to be presented (to God). Pope Eutychian (275-83) established that no one should bury the martyrs without a dalmatic or a violet tunic.

The Funeral of St Martin, 1322-26, depicted in the chapel dedicated to him in the lower basilica of St Francis in Assisi, by the Sienese painter Simone Martini (1284-1344). Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

The question is also posed whether men will be nude or clothed after the day judgment. And it seems that they will be clothed, for angels are always wont to appear clothed, and Christ also after the Resurrection appeared clothed, and at the Transfiguration, whence His garments were made white like snow. On the contrary, it seems that they will be naked, for authority has it that we will be in the same form in which Adam was before he sinned, and even in a better one, therefore we likewise will be nude. The solution is this: we make no definition about the garment, but say only this, that there will be no deformity, nor any adversity, or infirmity, and we will be dressed and adorned with the garments of the virtues. …

The Last Judgment, painted by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel from 1536-41. The nudity of the great majority of the figures, (the object of much criticism at the time the painting was made), expresses the Church’s belief that in “the resurrection of the flesh”, the sin of Adam will be finally and definitively undone, and with it, the shame which we feel over our nakedness, caused by that sin. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

… because it is written (Lev. 21, 11) that “the priest shall not go in at all to any dead man, neither shall he go out of the holy places,” the Roman Pontiff does not go to the house of a deceased person. Again, because it is said in the same place, “Neither shall they shave their head, nor their beard, nor make incisions in their flesh”, therefore, those who are saddened by the death of their loved ones let their beards grow, and do not cut their hair, and also wear black clothing, so that through their somber dress and grief, they may seem to be buried along with the dead.

The Ambrosian Absolution at the Catafalque

On All Souls’ Day, I posted a description of the Ambrosian Requiem Mass; as a follow-up, here is a description of the Ambrosian Absolution at the catafalque.

When the Mass is over, the celebrant and major ministers go to the Epistle side and remove their maniples; the celebrant removes his chasuble and dons a black cope. They then process out to the catafalque and stand at the head of it, preceded by two acolytes, one carrying the thurible and boat, and the other the holy water vessel and aspergil. In the meantime, the following antiphons are sung; the ninth, “In paradisum”, is sung only for the funeral of a bishop, priest or deacon. The music for these is quite simple, much of it with only one note per syllable, and the total length by note-count is less than that of the responsory Libera me which is sung at the Roman Absolution. (There are a number of other rites in the Ambrosian liturgy at which several antiphons are sung in a row without psalmody in this fashion, e.g. the Rogation days.)

Usque in vita mea laudavi te, Domine: da requiem mihi cum Sanctis tuis in regione vivorum, et salva me.	In my life I have always praised Thee, o Lord; grant me rest with Thy Saints in the land of the living, and save me.
Memorare, Domine, quae sit mea substantia; quis est homo qui vivit, et non videbit mor- tem?	Remember, O Lord, what I am made of; what man liveth, and shall not see death?
Adhaesit pavimento anima mea: vivifica me, Domine, secundum verbum tuum.	My soul hath cleaved to the pave- ment: quicken Thou me according to thy word. Ps. 118, 25
Portio mea in terra viventium: me expectant justi, donec retri- buas mihi.	My portion in the land of the living; the just wait for me, until Thou re- ward me. Ps. 141, 6 & 8
Vide, Domine, humilitatem me- am, et dimitte omnia peccata mea.	See, o Lord, my abjection, and for- give all my sins. Ps. 24, 18
Tu jussisti nasci me, Domine; repromisisti, ut resurgerem. Jussione tua venio, Sanctissime; ne derelinquas me, quia pius es.	Thou didst command me to be born, o Lord, that I might rise again. At Thy command I come, o most Holy one; abandon me not, for Thou art gracious.
Credo, quod Dominus non me derelinquet, nec condemnabit me, cum venerit ad judicandum, sed miserebitur mei Redemptor meus, pius Deus.	I believe that the Lord will not abandon me, nor condemn me, when He shall come to judge, but my Redeemer, the gracious God, will have mercy on me.
Etenim pauci fuerunt dies mei; da mihi requiem cum Sanctis tuis, Domine.	And indeed my days have been few; give me rest with Thy Saints, o Lord.
In paradisum deducant te An- geli, et cum gaudio suscipiant te sancti Martyres Dei.	May the Angels lead thee into Para- dise, and may the holy Martyrs of God receive thee with joy.
Tu es, Domine, protector meus; in manus tuas, Domine, com- mendo spiritum meum.	Thou art my protector, o Lord; into Thy hands, o Lord, I commend my spirit. Ps. 30, 5-6

In the following video, the antiphons are sung (from 0:36 to 4:43) alternating between the women’s and men’s sections of the choir; In paradisum is included, with the object “te” changed to the plural “vos”.

Once the antiphons are finished, the deacon intones another: “Redemptor meus vivit, * et in novissimo me renovabit. V. Renovabuntur denuo ossa mea, et in carne mea videbo Dominum Deum. – My Redeemer liveth, and at the end he shall renew me. V. My bones shall be renewed again, and in my flesh I shall see the Lord my God.” (Job 19, 25-26) This is a rare example of an “antiphona duplex”, an antiphon which is sung in full both before and after the psalm; the two parts (before and after the V.) are sung by two groups within the choir. The choir then begins Psalm 50, and the celebrant imposes incense in the thurible without blessing it.

At the verse “Asperges me hyssopo”, the celebrant takes the aspergil, and accompanied by the acolytes, who hold up the ends of the cope, he makes a circuit around the catafalque as in the Roman Rite, sprinkling each side of it with holy water three times. At the same time, the deacon takes the thurible and, walking immediately behind him, incenses the catafalque three times on each side. They return together to their place at the head of the catafalque. When the psalm is finished (without Gloria Patri or Requiem aeternam, neither of which is said with the psalms and canticles in the Office of the Dead), and the antiphon repeated, the celebrant says “Dominus vobiscum”, and a prayer appropriate to the occasion.

The deacon incensing the catafalque.

There follows a responsory from the Office of the Dead, which is also sung at the Requiem Mass as the Psalmellus, the Ambrosian equivalent of the Gradual. The rubric lectoris indicates that the chant is to be led by a lector; there are many parts of the Ambrosian liturgy which are assigned to specific members of the clergy or choir in this way.

Responsorium lectoris Qui suscitasti Lazarum quatriduanum foetidum, tu dona eis requiem, et locum indulgentiae. V. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Dómine: et lux perpétua lúceat eis. Tu dona eis requiem, et locum indulgentiae. – Thou who raised Lazarus that stank on the fourth day, grant to them rest, and a place of indulgence. Eternal rest grant to them, o Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them. Grant to them rest, and a place of indulgence.

However, on All Souls’ Day, and at the Requiem of bishops, including the Pope, and on their anniversaries, the following is sung instead.

Responsorium diaconi Rogamus te, Domine Deus, quia peccavimus tibi: veniam petimus quam non meremur. * Manum tuam porrige lapsis, qui latroni confitenti paradisi januas aperuisti V. Vita nostra in dolore suspirat, et in opere non emendat: si expectas, non corripimur, et si vindicas, non duramus. Manum tuam... – We ask Thee, Lord God, because we have sinned against Thee: we seek forgiveness, which we do not deserve. * Stretch out Thy hand to the fallen, Who didst open the gates of Paradise to the thief that confessed. V. Our life sigheth in sorrow, and emendeth not in deed; if Thou forbear, we are not reproved, and if Thou avenge, we cannot endure. Stretch out ...

The celebrant and servers standing at the head of the catafalque. This absolution was celebrated at the end of a Requiem Mass for our departed friend Mons. Angelo Amodeo, with our own Nicola dei Grandi serving as the master of ceremonies.

After the responsory, a special form of the Litany of the Saints is said, with all present kneeling. Two cantors begin with “Domine, miserere – Lord, have mercy” three times, each repeated by the choir, then “Christe, libera nos - Christ, deliver us” three times, to which the choir answers “Salvator, libera nos – o Savior, deliver us.” The names of the Saints are then sung by the cantors, to which all others answer “intercede pro eo (ea, eis).” In the Roman Rite, the list of the Saints in the litany is always the same, although other names may be added by immemorial custom; in the Ambrosian Rite, the Saints named in the litany change from one occasion to another. At the Absolution, after the Virgin Mary, the three Archangels are named, followed by Ss John the Baptist and Joseph, and the Apostles Peter, Paul, and Andrew; the martyrs Stephen, Lawrence, Vincent, Nazarius, Celsus, Protasius, Gervasius, George and Sebastian; the Virgin Martyrs Thecla, Catherine, Lucy, Apollonia, Agnes, Euphemia, Cecilia and Ursula; then Martha, Mary Magdalene, and Anne; the bishops Dionysius, Simplician, Eustorgius, Pope Gregory the Great and Augustine; the confessors Jerome, Anthony, and Martin; then Galdinus, Charles Borromeo, and Ambrose, who always conclude the litanies in the Ambrosian Rite, and lastly, “All ye Saints.” The litany ends with three repetitions of “Exaudi, Christe. R. Voces nostras. Exaudi, Deus. R. Et miserere nobis.”, (Hear, o Christ, our voices. Hear o God, and have mercy on us.), and three Kyrie eleisons. (In the first video, it runs from 10:07 to 13:17, sung in an abbreviated form.)

As in the Roman Rite, the celebrant makes the sign of the Cross over the catafalque, saying “Requiem aeternam dona ei (eis) Domine. R. Et lux perpetua luceat ei (eis).” He adds “Anima istius, et animae omnium fidelium defunctorum per misericordiam Dei requiescant in pace. R. Amen.” The celebrant and ministers then all return in procession to the sacristy.

Sarum Revivalism on the BBC

British friends have been sharing on social media this screen capture from the most recent episode of the BBC’s Father Brown series, based on the famous detective stories by G.K. Chesterton.

Although this is not part of the original stories, with the artistic license usually granted to all things churchy, the title character is now something of a Sarum revivalist, and here we see three of the ancient Sarum customs for funeral liturgies.

– The biretta is worn sideways, so that the gap is at the front.

– The alb is replaced with a surplice, preferably one normally used by the younger altar servers, so that the sleeves will be quite short. (This custom is believed to have originated in the Use of Hereford, and to have been adopted at Sarum only in the reign of Edward V.)

– The maniple is worn around the neck, rather than on the left forearm, as a sign of mourning. This refers, of course, to the words of Psalm 125, “Going forth they went and wept, casting their seeds, but coming back, they shall come bearing their sheaves.” The Latin word “manipulus” means “a sheaf”, but also the vestment called the maniple.

The Sarum liturgy is, alas, so little used and seen that one might forgive people for thinking this was just a dog’s breakfast made by the show’s liturgical advisor, or a carry-over from the most famous role of the actor who plays Fr Brown, Mark Williams, best known to American audiences as Harry Potter’s father-in-law. As a friend of mine observed, “Mr Weasley was always obsessed with Muggle things, but never did know how to use them correctly.”

Many people don’t realize that this custom of the Sarum Use also inspired a feature of the post-Conciliar rite. Since the maniple was made optional, the stole may be worn backwards and outside the chasuble at a funeral, as depicted in 2015 on a fictitious archbishop of Washington DC in the show House of Cards.

Historic Photos of a Cardinal’s Funeral Procession

January 7th was the anniversary of the death of Eugenio Cardinal Tosi, who was created archbishop of Milan in March of 1922 by his predecessor in that see, Achille Ratti, shortly after the latter’s elevation to the Papacy with name of Pius XI. Raised to the cardinalate at the end of that same year, he served in the see of St Ambrose until 1929, and was succeeded within a few months of his passing by the Bl. Ildephonse Schuster. Nicola recently found some images of Cardinal Tosi’s funeral procession, which was held three days after his death. The procession departed from the archiepiscopal palace, made its way on a long route through the center of the city, and then back to the Duomo. In that period, it was still considered very improper to take photos or film of religious ceremonies, and so this set unfortunately includes only the outdoor procession, and not the funeral itself; the number of ecclesiastics and religious gives us at least a hint of how magnificent the funeral Mass would have been.

The archpriest and canons of the cathedral chapter prepare for the funeral procession. As in many other important churches in Europe, the cathedral canons of Milan have the right to wear miter; they can also traditionally celebrate a slightly reduced form of Pontifical Mass much as abbots do.

Decoration of the central door of the Duomo with a commendatory inscription in honor of the newly deceased cardinal.

The standard of the city of Milan 

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Funeral of Cardinal Tardini, 1961

Today is the anniversary of the death in 1961 of Domenico Cardinal Tardini, the Vatican Secretary of State under Pope St John XXIII. Born in Rome in 1888, and ordained a priest in 1912, he served in the Curia under Pope Pius XI as a close collaborator of the Cardinal Secretary of State Eugenio Pacelli, a role in which he continued when the latter was elected Pope in 1939. In 1952, he was made Pro-Secretary of State for (Extraordinary) Foreign Affairs. Shortly after Pius XII’s death in 1958, John XXIII made him Secretary of State, and raised him to the cardinalate; he was ordained a bishop at the end of the year.

From the always-interesting YouTube channel of British Pathé, here is some archival footage, without soundtrack, of the funeral ceremonies held in St Peter’s Basilica, a Mass coram Summo Pontifice, followed by the Absolution at the catafalque celebrated by the Pope himself.

A few points of interest: throughout the ceremony, the Pope is accompanied by Alfredo Cardinal Ottaviani, whom he had appointed Secretary of the Holy Office, and walking in front of the Pope at the beginning is his Master of Ceremonies, the famous Mons. Enrico Dante. The ceremony is held not at the main altar, but in the right (north) transept, dedicated to Ss Processus and Martinian; starting at 1:44, we see the three chapels of the transept covered over with black drapes, and the central one decorated with a large plain cross. At 2:25, we briefly see the Elevation of the Host during the Mass, which is celebrated at a temporary (but very beautiful) altar set up in front of the drape. The Absolution begins at 2:34; notice how Mons. Dante gestures to people to stand up as he leads the Pope to his place at the foot of the catafalque.

YouTube’s suggestion algorithm also recommended to my attention this footage (once again, archival material without soundtrack), taken in January of 1962, of meetings held in the Apostolic Palace in those strangely perfervid years between the calling of the most recent ecumenical council and its actual beginning.

At 0:21, we see a fresco of St Raymond of Penyafort, the Patron Saint of canon lawyers, presenting his collection of Decretals, the great canon law book of the Middle Ages, to Pope Gregory IX, ca. 1232. At 0:56, we see a group of bishops and cardinals, including Card. Ottaviani and Mons. Dante once again, and at 1:26, Marcel Lefebvre, then newly appointed as Archbishop of Tulle in France; he would serve in this office for less then seventh months, resigning it to take up the role of Superior General of the Congregation of the Holy Spirit. At 1:33, we see Giovanni Cardinal Montini, the Archbishop of Milan and future Pope Paul VI, and then Eugène Cardinal Tisserant, dean of the College of Cardinals, and retired Secretary of the Congregation for the Oriental Churches. The rest of the footage is of a meeting at which Card. Tisserant presides.

The Ambrosian Absolution at the Catafalque

On All Souls’ Day last week, I posted a description of the Ambrosian Requiem Mass; as a follow-up, here is a description of the Ambrosian Absolution at the catafalque.

When the Mass is over, the celebrant and major ministers go to the Epistle side and remove their maniples; the celebrant removes his chasuble and dons a black cope. They then process out to the catafalque and stand at the head of it, preceded by two acolytes, one carrying the thurible and boat, and the other the holy water vessel and aspergil. In the meantime, the following antiphons are sung; the ninth, “In paradisum”, is sung only for the funeral of a bishop, priest or deacon. The music for these is quite simple, much of it with only one note per syllable, and the total length by note-count is less than that of the responsory Libera me which is sung at the Roman Absolution. (There are a number of other rites in the Ambrosian liturgy at which several antiphons are sung in a row without psalmody in this fashion, e.g. the Rogation days.)

Usque in vita mea laudavi te, Domine: da requiem mihi cum Sanctis tuis in regione vivorum, et salva me.	In my life I have always praised Thee, o Lord; grant me rest with Thy Saints in the land of the living, and save me.
Memorare, Domine, quae sit mea substantia; quis est homo qui vivit, et non videbit mor- tem?	Remember, O Lord, what I am made of; what man liveth, and shall not see death?
Adhaesit pavimento anima mea: vivifica me, Domine, secundum verbum tuum.	My soul hath cleaved to the pave- ment: quicken Thou me according to thy word. Ps. 118, 25
Portio mea in terra viventium: me expectant justi, donec retri- buas mihi.	My portion in the land of the living; the just wait for me, until Thou re- ward me. Ps. 141, 6 & 8
Vide, Domine, humilitatem me- am, et dimitte omnia peccata mea.	See, o Lord, my abjection, and for- give all my sins. Ps. 24, 18
Tu jussisti nasci me, Domine; repromisisti, ut resurgerem. Jussione tua venio, Sanctissime; ne derelinquas me, quia pius es.	Thou didst command me to be born, o Lord, that I might rise again. At Thy command I come, o most Holy one; abandon me not, for Thou art gracious.
Credo, quod Dominus non me derelinquet, nec condemnabit me, cum venerit ad judicandum, sed miserebitur mei Redemptor meus, pius Deus.	I believe that the Lord will not abandon me, nor condemn me, when He shall come to judge, but my Redeemer, the gracious God, will have mercy on me.
Etenim pauci fuerunt dies mei; da mihi requiem cum Sanctis tuis, Domine.	And indeed my days have been few; give me rest with Thy Saints, o Lord.
In paradisum deducant te An- geli, et cum gaudio suscipiant te sancti Martyres Dei.	May the Angels lead thee into Para- dise, and may the holy Martyrs of God receive thee with joy.
Tu es, Domine, protector meus; in manus tuas, Domine, com- mendo spiritum meum.	Thou art my protector, o Lord; into Thy hands, o Lord, I commend my spirit. Ps. 30, 5-6

In the following video, the antiphons are sung (from 0:36 to 4:43) alternating between the women’s and men’s sections of the choir; In paradisum is included, with the object “te” changed to the plural “vos”.

Once the antiphons are finished, the deacon intones another: “Redemptor meus vivit, * et in novissimo me renovabit. V. Renovabuntur denuo ossa mea, et in carne mea videbo Dominum Deum. – My Redeemer liveth, and at the end he shall renew me. V. My bones shall be renewed again, and in my flesh I shall see the Lord my God.” (Job 19, 25-26) This is a rare example of an “antiphona duplex”, an antiphon which is sung in full both before and after the psalm; the two parts (before and after the V.) are sung by two groups within the choir. The choir then begins Psalm 50, and the celebrant imposes incense in the thurible without blessing it.

At the verse “Asperges me hyssopo”, the celebrant takes the aspergil, and accompanied by the acolytes, who hold up the ends of the cope, he makes a circuit around the catafalque as in the Roman Rite, sprinkling each side of it with holy water three times. At the same time, the deacon takes the thurible and, walking immediately behind him, incenses the catafalque three times on each side. They return together to their place at the head of the catafalque. When the psalm is finished (without Gloria Patri or Requiem aeternam, neither of which is said with the psalms and canticles in the Office of the Dead), and the antiphon repeated, the celebrant says “Dominus vobiscum”, and a prayer appropriate to the occasion.

The deacon incensing the catafalque.

There follows a responsory from the Office of the Dead, which is also sung at the Requiem Mass as the Psalmellus, the Ambrosian equivalent of the Gradual. The rubric lectoris indicates that the chant is to be led by a lector; there are many parts of the Ambrosian liturgy which are assigned to specific members of the clergy or choir in this way.

Responsorium lectoris Qui suscitasti Lazarum quatriduanum foetidum, tu dona eis requiem, et locum indulgentiae. V. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Dómine: et lux perpétua lúceat eis. Tu dona eis requiem, et locum indulgentiae. – Thou who raised Lazarus that stank on the fourth day, grant to them rest, and a place of indulgence. Eternal rest grant to them, o Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them. Grant to them rest, and a place of indulgence.

However, on All Souls’ Day, and at the Requiem of bishops, including the Pope, and on their anniversaries, the following is sung instead.

Responsorium diaconi Rogamus te, Domine Deus, quia peccavimus tibi: veniam petimus quam non meremur. * Manum tuam porrige lapsis, qui latroni confitenti paradisi januas aperuisti V. Vita nostra in dolore suspirat, et in opere non emendat: si expectas, non corripimur, et si vindicas, non duramus. Manum tuam... – We ask Thee, Lord God, because we have sinned against Thee: we seek forgiveness, which we do not deserve. * Stretch out Thy hand to the fallen, Who didst open the gates of Paradise to the thief that confessed. V. Our life sigheth in sorrow, and emendeth not in deed; if Thou forbear, we are not reproved, and if Thou avenge, we cannot endure. Stretch out ...

The celebrant and servers standing at the head of the catafalque. This absolution was celebrated at the end of a Requiem Mass for our departed friend Mons. Angelo Amodeo, with our own Nicola dei Grandi serving as the master of ceremonies.

After the responsory, a special form of the Litany of the Saints is said, with all present kneeling. Two cantors begin with “Domine, miserere – Lord, have mercy” three times, each repeated by the choir, then “Christe, libera nos - Christ, deliver us” three times, to which the choir answers “Salvator, libera nos – o Savior, deliver us.” The names of the Saints are then sung by the cantors, to which all others answer “intercede pro eo (ea, eis).” In the Roman Rite, the list of the Saints in the litany is always the same, although other names may be added by immemorial custom; in the Ambrosian Rite, the Saints named in the litany change from one occasion to another. At the Absolution, after the Virgin Mary, the three Archangels are named, followed by Ss John the Baptist and Joseph, and the Apostles Peter, Paul, and Andrew; the martyrs Stephen, Lawrence, Vincent, Nazarius, Celsus, Protasius, Gervasius, George and Sebastian; the Virgin Martyrs Thecla, Catherine, Lucy, Apollonia, Agnes, Euphemia, Cecilia and Ursula; then Martha, Mary Magdalene, and Anne; the bishops Dionysius, Simplician, Eustorgius, Pope Gregory the Great and Augustine; the confessors Jerome, Anthony, and Martin; then Galdinus, Charles Borromeo, and Ambrose, who always conclude the litanies in the Ambrosian Rite, and lastly, “All ye Saints.” The litany ends with three repetitions of “Exaudi, Christe. R. Voces nostras. Exaudi, Deus. R. Et miserere nobis.”, (Hear, o Christ, our voices. Hear o God, and have mercy on us.), and three Kyrie eleisons. (In the first video, it runs from 10:07 to 13:17, sung in an abbreviated form.)

As in the Roman Rite, the celebrant makes the sign of the Cross over the catafalque, saying “Requiem aeternam dona ei (eis) Domine. R. Et lux perpetua luceat ei (eis).” He adds “Anima istius, et animae omnium fidelium defunctorum per misericordiam Dei requiescant in pace. R. Amen.” The celebrant and ministers then all return in procession to the sacristy.

A Child Singing with the Angels: The Non-Funerary Funeral

Louis Janmot (1814-1892), Souvenir du ciel

In my old St. Andrew’s Daily Missal — or rather, my reprint of the 1945 edition, which I love both because of its superb commentaries, and because its calendar and Holy Week match up with the customs of an increasing number of traditional parishes nowadays — we find the following heading on p. 1821: “The Burial of Little Children.” The commentary reads:

When a baptized child dies before reaching the age of reason, it goes at once to heaven to praise God and enjoy Him with the angels. Wherefore the Gloria Patri of the Psalms is not replaced by the Requiem aeternam, and the Mass is the Votive Mass of the Angels, with white vestments and Gloria in excelsis, unless the rubrics prescribe the Mass of the day. If in the afternoon, Votive Vespers of the Angels may be sung.

I can’t remember when I first heard about this beautiful custom of not celebrating a Mass for the Dead or funeral Mass for such a little child, but rather a Mass of the Angels; it was probably a couple of decades ago by now. But since I had long been attending only university chapels and did not live near a traditional parish, no occasion like this had ever occurred. It remained theoretical knowledge.

Recently, however, a little child died in our local community, and the rector of the nearby oratory of the Institute of Christ the King offered the Mass just as described above. I had the privilege of singing in the Choir. I found the entire thing extremely striking, and wish to share some thoughts on it, since this old custom has barely survived into the post-Montinian era.

The first thing that must be said is that the old custom bespeaks a resolutely and audaciously supernatural perspective: when all are mourning the loss of a citizen of earth, the Church rejoices in the gaining of a saint in heaven. The Introit of the Requiem Mass pleads: “Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them.” The Introit of the Mass of the Angels exults: “Bless the Lord all ye His angels: you that are mighty in strength, and execute His word, listening to the voice of His orders.” Then the verse challenges us with an imperative: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and let all that is within me bless His holy name.” We are told to do the very thing the departed child is now doing, whose soul, with all that is within it, blesses the Lord.

Holy Mother Church bids us sing with and honor the angels, among whom is found the soul of this little child, a soul already mature in Christ through baptism, adorned with the full complement of infused virtues. The Epistle in the words of the Apocalypse brings before us the hosts of heaven, spirits and souls of the just, saying: “To Him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb, benediction, and honor, and glory and power, for ever and ever.” There is no danger of hell for the baptized child, nor any deportation to the fires of purgatory; the gates of heaven are immediately flung open to receive this sinless, guiltless adopted son of God. This is why the interlectional chants proclaim: “Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise Him in the high places. … Alleluia, alleluia. I will sing praise to Thee in the sight of the angels: I will worship towards Thy holy temple, and I will give glory to Thy name. Alleluia.”

Just as, with apparently wild-eyed fanaticism (though in truth it is but the most sober right judgment) the Church, according to John Henry Newman, can say it were better for the entire universe to perish than that one sin be wilfully committed, [1] so too, with a queenly confidence born of the mercies of the King, the Church, says the usus antiquior, deems it better, more truthful, more grateful, to don white vestments and sing alleluia for a Christian who dies before the age of reason than to put on black and utter the aweful words of the Dies Irae. [2]

The liturgical reform, monstrous in its rationalist leveling of every irregularity, [3] could not tolerate this sharp distinction between the lightsome angelic Mass for the child saint and the dark Requiem Mass for the adult sinner; in its baffling dullness of heart, the reform was blind both to supernatural realities and natural ones. [4] The sable grief that follows the dead man weighed down with years, the urgent reminder to pray for the repose of his soul, the supernatural glory that surrounds a babe of days snatched from this world and thus preserved from the scourge of sin, temptation, vice, anguish, and all the ills that cling to fallen human life—such horizons of life and faith were closed off to utilitarian brains.

The Montinian reform turned everything upside-down. It converted Requiems into informal beatifications, draped in the white of an Easter triumph presumed to be already gained, while suppressing the only instance where white vestments ought to be worn and alleluias and doxologies chanted, where heavenly glory may be joyfully, through a veil of tears, acknowledged as accomplished. The reform took away from the small child the Mass of the Angels that befitted it, and bestowed the honors of the altar on the old man to whom it was foreign, and who needs earnest suffrages for pardon and salvation. Salva me, fons pietatis! It took away this magnificent testimony of faith in a victory known to be won by a few, and substituted a pseudo-victory vainly extended to all.

And why does the old liturgy exhort us, in the very presence of the child’s dead body, to praise the Lord — a sentiment that might seem out of place, to say the least? Here is where the eye of faith is more necessary than ever, to see what should be seen, and not to be clouded over by our frail flesh.

The one and only ultimate end of man is the beatific vision. If someone attains this, he has attained the purpose for which he was created and redeemed. If someone fails to attain this, he has failed as a human being and as a Christian. Our final condition is either total victory or total failure: we have gained all, or lost all. There is nothing in between. The only “happy ending” is heaven, and the only “tragedy” is hell. The rest is relative. The baptized child who dies, although not granted by Divine Providence the relative good of life in this world, has been granted the absolute good of eternal life in the world to come.

This is what all Christians say they desire: eternal life in God. This is the goal of our pilgrimage. And that is why Holy Mother Church, with her lofty and utterly realistic wisdom, clothes herself in white and sings the Mass of the Angels for the little baptized child who flies from this world, and sings with no less fervor the Requiem Mass, clad in black. Alleluia is the song of the lover and the visionary; the Dies Irae is the sequence of the worldly and battleweary. That such customs as these ever had to be swept away is part of the “mystery of iniquity” that surrounds the 20th-century Church. That such customs are beginning to come back is part of the mystery of Providence that surprises the Church of the 21st-century.

NOTES

[1] The text is found in Difficulties of Anglicans, and is quoted in my article “The Denial of the Law of God and His Rights.”

[2] The traditional difference between the funeral of the child who dies before the age of reason and the funeral of everyone else extends beyond the Mass to the obsequies afterwards. In the typical burial, the psalms, verses, and prayers are penitential and pleading for mercy; the child’s burial, on the contrary, can draw from Psalm 118 (“Blessed are the undefiled in the way”) and Psalms 148–150 (“Praise ye the Lord from the heavens”); Psalm 23 (“The earth is the Lord’s”) is recited, followed by this beautiful collect: “O almighty and most merciful God, who dost immediately grant eternal life to every little child who goeth forth from this world after being born again in the baptismal font, without any merit of his own, even as we believe Thou hast done this day for the soul of this little child; grant, we beseech Thee, O Lord, through the intercession of blessed Mary, ever Virgin, and of all the saints, that we may serve Thee here with clean hearts and be united with these blessed children for ever in heaven.”

[3] See my article “In Praise of Irregularity.”

[4] See my article “The Scandal of the Modern Catholic Funeral.”

Visit www.peterkwasniewski.com for information, articles, sacred music, and Os Justi Press.

Five Recent Articles about Funerals and Masses for the Dead

Photo courtesy of Liturgical Arts Journal

November, the month of the Holy Souls, always brings with it a number of articles concerning the current state, or plight, of Catholic funerals and Masses for the Dead. As the years pass, we are fortunate to see a double outcome of Summorum Pontificum: first, an always growing presence of the traditional Requiem Mass with its full panoply of symbols and chants (including the great Dies Irae), as can be seen in the photo albums published here; and second, an ever more widespread acknowledgment that something has gone drastically wrong with the way Catholics approach prayer for the dead.

I would like to mention here four recent articles of potential interest to NLM readers, and give a few excerpts.

The first is “The scandal of the modern Catholic funeral,” one of my daily columns at LifeSite.

Once upon a time, a very important person in my life died. I attended the funeral. It was a Novus Ordo canonization ceremony, conducted by a priest and three women in skirt-suits ministering in the sanctuary. Everyone at the funeral was dressed in black—except for the priest, who was wearing white. The disjunct was glaring and tasteless. The contrast between the deep human instinct of mourning, which can be said to be an ineradicable part of the sensus fidelium, and the crackpot liturgical reformers who introduced white as a color for Masses for the dead, was never so obvious to me.
          The day before, however, my family and I had gone to a traditional Requiem Mass, sung by a priest friend. The contrast was not just profound, but shocking. Between that day and the following, we were emotionally suspended between two radically different offerings for the dead: one that took death with deadly seriousness, that cared about the fate of the departed soul, and allowed us to suffer; another that shuffled death to the side with platitudes and empty promises. The contrast between Friday’s black vestments, Dies irae, and whispered suffrages and Saturday’s stole-surmounted white chasuble and amplified sentiments of universal goodwill seemed to epitomize the chasm that separates the faith of the saints from the prematurely ageing modernism of yesterday.
          I found myself thinking: The greatest miracle of our times is that the Catholic Faith has survived the liturgical reform.

A few weeks ago, Dr Joseph Shaw, the Chairman of the Latin Mass Society of England & Wales and a much-appreciated blogger at LMS Chairman, officially joined the bloggers writing for LifeSite. In this capacity he has given us two articles of note:

“Why Catholic funerals prior to Vatican II better expressed death’s gravity”

The chants of the traditional Mass for the Dead, called by the first word of the Mass proper, Requiem, include some of the Church’s most ancient, solemn, and moving. They express the seriousness, the gravity of death, and seek God’s mercy for those who have died. It was shocking to many when the Dies Irae and other chants were removed from the Mass for the Dead in the liturgical reform that followed the Second Vatican Council. Annibale Bugnini explained the reasoning of the reformers as follows (The Reform of the Liturgy p. 773):
          "They got rid of texts that smacked of a negative spirituality inherited from the Middle Ages. Thus they removed such familiar and even beloved texts as the Libera me, Domine, the Dies irae, and others that overemphasized judgment, fear, and despair. These they replaced with texts urging Christian hope and giving more effective expression to faith in the resurrection."
          The idea that the texts at issue “overemphasize” “despair” (how much should despair be emphasized, one wonders?) is a gross mischaracterization. The texts of the ancient Mass for the Dead speak of God’s mercy and the gift of salvation, in the context of human guilt and God’s justice.

And “Why Christians must honor those who have died in war”:

It is an unsurprising sociological fact that people are more willing to sacrifice themselves for their community if they see that such sacrifices in the past have been honored by the community. If we are not prepared to honor them when they fall, we should not expect our young people to put themselves in harm’s way for our protection.

(As a side-note: NLM readers might not expect to find liturgical commentary at LifeSiteNews, which has built its reputation as a pro-life, pro-family, general news source; but this expectation is not quite accurate anymore, now that Dr Shaw and I are writing on liturgical topics there with some regularity.)

Last but not least, Shawn Tribe, founding editor of NLM, continues to promote the best and most beautiful elements of the Catholic liturgical aesthetic at his site Liturgical Arts Journal, as we see in “The Value of Black as a Liturgical Colour” and “Constructing a Catafalque for the Requiem Mass.”

May each passing November, and indeed the passage of each one of Christ’s faithful into eternity, be accompanied by obsequies and orisons worthy of the dignity of Christian baptism, testifying to the reality of the Four Last Things and redolent of the piety, devotion, and earnest prayer of the ages.