Two Medieval Hymns for Epiphany

For brevity’s sake, the title of this post is slightly inexact: the first of these two hymns is for Epiphany, while the second was used for the whole period from Christmas to the octave of Epiphany.

The Baptism of Christ, 1471-79 by the Austrian painter Michael Pacher (1435 ca. - 1498). Image from Wikimedia Commons by Uoaei1, CC BY-SA 4.0)

The Roman Divine Office is traditionally much more conservative than other Uses in the adoption of new texts, and this is particularly true in regard to hymns. Seasons such as Advent and Lent have three hymns, one each for Matins, Lauds and Vespers, but many feasts, even some of the greatest and most ancient, have only two. And thus for the Epiphany, the hymn Crudelis Herodes (originally Hostis Herodes impie) is said at both Vespers and Matins, and O sola magnarum urbium at Lauds.

Many medieval Uses, however, added one to this repertoire, an anonymous composition of at least the 10th century, A Patre Unigenitus. (Dreves, Analecta hymnica medii aevi, vol. 2, p. 80 and vol. 27, p. 66) In the Use of Sarum, it was sung at Matins during the octave, since on the feast itself, Matins has no hymn; the Carmelites and Dominicans put it at Lauds. It is a slightly irregular alphabetic acrostic; A is used twice, and the not-very-well composed strophe that supplied the letters V, X, Y and Z dropped out of use. The C of “clarum” is written with a K, a common practice in acrostics, since K is hardly used in classical Latin. The original reading of the S line was “Sceptrum tuumque inclitum”; this is grammatically irregular, since the enclitic particle “-que” should be attached to the first word, and so it was often corrected to the reading given below, as in the Dominican and Carmelite Offices. The English translation is by the great John Mason Neale, from “Collected Hymns, Sequences and Carols of John Mason Neale” (Hodder and Stoughton London 1914.)

A Patre Unigenitus Ad nos venit per Virginem, Baptisma cruce consecrans, Cunctos fideles generans.	From God the Father, Virgin-born To us the only Son came down, By death the font to consecrate, The faithful to regenerate.
De caelo celsus prodiens Excepit formam hominis, Facturam morte redimens, Gaudia vita rediens.	From highest heaven His course began, He took the form of mortal man, Creation by His death restored, And shed new joys of life abroad.
Hoc te, Redemptor, quaesumus Illabere propitius Klarumque nostris cordibus Lumen praebe fidelibus	Glide on, Thou glorious Sun, and bring The gift of healing on Thy wing; The clearness of Thy light dispense Unto Thy people’s every sense.
Mane nobiscum, Domine, Noctem obscuram remove, Omne delictum ablue, Piam medelam tribue.	Abide with us, o Lord, we pray, The gloom of night remove away; Thy work of healing, Lord, begin, And do away the stain of sin.
Quem jam venisse novimus, Redire item credimus, Sub sceptro tuo inclito Tuum defende clipeum.	We know that Thou didst come of yore; Thou, we believe, shalt come once more: Thy guardian shield o’er us extend, Thine own dear sheepfold to defend.
Gloria tibi, Domine, Qui apparuisti hodie, Cum Patre et Sancto Spiritu, In sempiterna saecula.    Amen.	All glory, Lord, to Thee we pay, For Thine Epiphany to-day; All glory, as is ever meet, To Father and to Paraclete.    Amen.

In the Liturgy of the Hours, the hymn has been subjected to the usual cack-handed alterations by Fr Anselmo Lentini OSB, and assigned to First Vespers of the feast of Our Lord’s Baptism. On the basis of a minority manuscript tradition, the address is changed to the second person, and various other words altered to fit that (e.g. the vocative “Unigenite” in the first line.) The fifth strophe is replaced by a doxology invented by Lentini.

In the Roman Breviary, and in most medieval Uses, the hymns of Prime, Terce, Sext and None are completely invariable throughout the year, although their doxology often changes. However, there existed a minority tradition (e.g. at Liège in the Low Countries, and in England at York, but not in the much more widely diffused Use of Sarum), which assigned a proper hymn, Agnoscat omne saeculum, to these Hours, starting on Christmas day, and continuing through to the octave of Epiphany. The hymn was broken up into two strophes per Hour, plus the doxology of the current feast. When Fr Guido Dreves SJ (1854-1909) was publishing his monumental collection of medieval hymns, the Analecta hymnica, its attribution was apparently a matter of debate; Dreves himself says (vol. 50, pp. 85-6) only that it is certainly by the same author as the common hymn of the Virgin Mary Quem terra, on the grounds that it shares two lines with it. (This seems a weak line of argument; medievals valued originality far less than we do, and borrowing texts was extremely common.) Writing in 1984, Fr Lentini ascribed it to “an unknown author of the 7th or 8th century.” Several more recent scholars, however, accept the traditional attribution to St Venantius Fortunatus (ca. 530-600), the author of the great Passiontide hymns.

In the Liturgy of the Hours, it remains miraculously untouched; the first three strophes and the sixth are assigned to Vespers of the Annunciation, and the fourth, fifth, seventh and eighth to the Lauds of the newly invented Solemnity of Mary on January 1st. It is a tribute to the smashing success of the new Office that no recording of either is available on YouTube, but it would have been sung with the same melody used for the other Christmas hymns, according to local custom, so I have included here the original version of the Roman Vesper hymn of Christmas, Christe Redemptor omnium. The English translation is from the same volume of John Mason Neale cited above.

Ad Primam Agnoscat omne saeculum Venisse vitae praemium, Post hostis asperi iugum Apparuit redemptio.	At Prime Let every age and nation own That life’s reward at length is shown; The foe’s hard yoke is cast away, Redemption hath appeared to-day.
Isaias quae cecinit, Completa sunt de Virgine: Annuntiavit Angelus, Sanctus replevit Spiritus	Isaiah’s strains fulfilment meet, And in the Virgin are complete: The Angel’s tongue hath called her blest , The Holy Ghost hath filled her breast.
Ad Tertiam Maria ventre concipit Verbi fidelis semine; Quem totus orbis non capit, Portant puellae viscera.	At Terce The Virgin Mary hath conceived, By that true word which she believed, And Whom the wide world cannot hold, A spotless maiden’s arms enfold.
Radix Jesse floruit Et virga fructum edidit; Fecunda partum protulit Et virgo mater permanet	Now buds the flower of Jesse’s root, Now Aaron’s rod puts out its fruit; She sees her Offspring rise to view, The Mother, yet the Virgin too.
Ad Sextam Praesaepi poni pertulit, Qui lucis auctor exstitit; Cum Patre caelos condidit, Sub Matre pannos induit.	At Sext He, by Whose hand the light was made, Deigns in a manger to be laid; He with His Father made the skies, And by His Mother swaddled lies.
Legem dedit qui saeculo, Cuius decem praecepta sunt, Dignando factus est homo Sub legis esse vinculo	He that once gave the Law to men, And wrote it in Commandments Ten, Himself man’s nature deigns to share, The fetters of the Law to wear.
Ad Nonam Adam vetus quod polluit, Adam novus hoc abluit, Tumens quod ille deicit, Humillimus hic erigit	At None Now the Old Adam’s sinful stain Doth the New Adam cleanse again; And what the first by pride o’erthrew, This lowliest One uprears anew.
Jam nata lux est et salus, Fugata nox et victa mors; Venite, gentes, credite, Deum Maria protulit.	Now light is come, Salvation shewn, And night repelled, and Death o’erthrown; Approach, ye nations! own this morn, That God of Mary hath been born.

The Gospels of the Epiphany (Part 2)

As with the other solemnities of the Lord, the Sunday within the octave of the Epiphany has its own proper Mass, which begins with the introit In excelso throno; the Gospel of this Mass is that of the finding of the twelve-year old Jesus among the doctors in the temple. (St Luke 2, 42-52) The only canonical episode of the hidden years of Christ’s life has been an object of devotion as a mystery of the Rosary for centuries, and was formerly celebrated with a particular feast by the Dominican Order; it is fittingly placed by the sacred liturgy between His birth and the beginning of His public ministry. When Pope Benedict XV decided to extend the feast of the Holy Family to the universal calendar in 1921, it was fixed to the Sunday within the octave of the Epiphany, since the Gospel, which sets the key note of the whole Mass and Office, is the same as that of In excelso throno.

On the octave itself, the Church celebrates the public manifestation of Christ to the people of Israel in His Baptism, at which God proclaims, “This is my beloved Son; hear ye Him.” Sicard of Cremona comments that the second miracle celebrated by the Epiphany, the Baptism of the Lord, “is put off until the octave day, because (baptism) takes the place of circumcision, which was celebrated on the eighth day.” The public revelation of Christ to the nations, however, is deferred to Pentecost, when the Apostles begin the mission of the Church, which will last until the end of the world.

In the Missal and Breviary of St. Pius V, and subsequent revisions, the octave day of the Epiphany is textually identical to the Epiphany itself, with the exception of the three prayers of the Mass, the Gospel, which is Saint John’s account of the Baptism (1, 29-34), and the readings of Matins. Prior to the Tridentine reform, however, the Office also had a large number of proper antiphons for the psalms of Matins, Lauds and Vespers, all of them centered on the Baptism. These were entirely suppressed from the Roman Breviary in the Tridentine revision, a most uncharacteristic act of a reform that was generally very conservative. The reason would appear to be that these antiphons are clearly Greek in origin; indeed, they were even recognized to be such by the liturgical commentators of the medieval period. These were retained by several breviaries of the religious orders after Trent; the antiphons for the Gospel canticles are:

At the Magnificat of First Vespers The soldier baptizeth the king, the servant his Lord, John the Savior: the water of the Jordan is struck dumb, the dove beareth witness: the Father’s voice is heard: this is my beloved Son.
At the Benedictus John the Forerunner exsulteth, when, the Lord having been baptized in the Jordan, the cause of rejoicing to the word is made: remission of our sins is made. ‘O thou that sanctifieth the waters’, let us all cry out, ‘have mercy upon us!’
At the Magnificat of Second Vespers The fountains of the waters sare sanctified, as Christ appeareth in glory to the world: draw ye waters from the fountains of the Savior; for now Christ our God hath sanctified every creature.

The Baptism of Christ, from the Menologion of Basil II, ca. 985

In several medieval uses of the Roman Rite, white was the liturgical color of the season between the octave of the Epiphany and the Purification, where the Missal of St. Pius V prescribes green; this custom survived in much of France until the later part of the nineteenth century. It reflects the fact that the Masses of the first three Sundays of this period continue the solemnity of the Lord’s manifestation, extending the season of Christmas to include the entire forty days from the Nativity to the Purification. A similar custom existed in many places for the season after Pentecost, whereby red vestments were used instead of green; this is still the tradition of the Ambrosian Rite for all but the last four weeks before Advent.

The Office of the Epiphany itself refers to the conversion of water into wine at the wedding at Cana as one of the three miracles commemorated by the feast. (St John 2, 1-11) The fourth stanza of the principal hymn of the feast, Crudelis Herodes, reads:

Novum genus potentiae

Aquae rubescunt hydriae,

Vinumque jussa fundere,

Mutavit unda originem.

This is translated (in a somewhat archaic style) by the English Breviary of the Marquess of Bute:

A strange miraculous power is shown,

The water pots are ruddy grown,

Whose waters by command divine

Their nature change, and yield pure wine.

Although this is sung every day through the octave, the reading of the Gospel itself is delayed until the second Sunday after the feast. The tradition of commemorating this episode alongside the visit of the Magi and the Baptism of Christ is a very ancient one; St Maximus of Turin refers to it as “the tradition of our fathers” in the mid-fifth century, and the three events are mentioned together in the liturgical texts of many different rites. Of the various actions by which Christ manifests Himself as Our salvation, this one was undoubtedly chosen for such a prominent place because St John calls it the first of Christ’s miracles, whereby “he made manifest (ephanerose) His glory.”

The Wedding at Cana, painting in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, Italy, by Giotto, 1305.

The introit of this Mass is almost identical to the fifth antiphon of Epiphany Matins, taken from the sixty-fifth psalm: “Let all the earth adore Thee, o God, and sing to Thee; let it sing to Thy name, o Most High.” These words are sung on the feast because the three Magi were understood to represent all the ends of the known world, one from Asia, one from Africa and one from Europe. Although this tradition concerning their number and origin was almost universally accepted in the Middle Ages, and the connection with the Epiphany is fairly obvious, the liturgical writers of the era also knew of a curious story concerning the origin of this introit. It is recounted thus by Sicard of Cremona:

It is said that Augustus Caesar decreed for the glory of the Roman Empire, that from each city of the world someone should come to Rome, bearing as much earth as can be held in one hand, so that by this it might be clear that all were subject to the Roman Empire… and from this earth (terra) there arose a small mountain, upon which a church was later built, and dedicated on this Sunday. Therefore, on its dedication is sung “Let all the earth adore Thee.” (Mitrale V, 11)

The modern reader should be aware that medieval authors often use a phrase like “It is said…” to indicate a story which may not be altogether reliable. However, there is in fact an artificial mountain in Rome, the Mons Testaceus (“Monte Testaccio” in Italian), a heap of discarded potsherds near the location of some warehouses of the ancient city; it is well over a hundred feet high, probably even higher in antiquity, and more than half a mile around at the base. It is easily seen to be a man-made structure, and the medieval mind perhaps found it difficult to imagine that such an achievement of engineering could be anything so prosaic as a garbage dump; hence the story.

A view of the Mons Testaceus in the 19th century.

The Altar of the Basilica of St Ambrose in Milan

Last month, we shared pictures of a solemn Ambrosian Mass celebrated in one of the most ancient and important churches in Milan, the basilica of St Ambrose, on December 14th, the fifth Sunday of Advent. As a follow up, here are some close-up pictures of the basilica’s high altar taken by Nicola de’ Grandi. This altar was made between 825 and 859 by a sculptor named Vuolvino; the front, which faces the people, is gold; the back, which faced the apse, is silver.

The central panel of the front shows Christ in glory, surrounded by the symbols of the Evangelists and the Twelve Apostles. Twelve episodes of His life are depicted in the panels to either side.

The stories of the life of Christ run from bottom to top, first on the left side, then the right. Here we see the Annunciation... 

followed by the Nativity, with a shepherd in the middle, raising his arms in a gesture which conveys his emotion at finding the Messiah. This is a very good example of how artists of the Carolingian Renaissance rediscovered a more naturalistic approach to art from ancient Roman models, which they would have been able to study in very old illustrated manuscripts.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

An Ambrosian Chant for Vespers of the Epiphany, “Omnes Patriarchae”

Although the Ambrosian Divine Office shares many features with that of the Roman Rite, its structure is different in almost every respect. Vespers begins not with psalmody, but with a Lucernarium, a responsory originally sung while the lamps of the church were being lit. This is often (but not always) followed by an antiphon called “in choro”, because it was originally sung by the cantors standing around the throne of the celebrant. At Second Vespers of the Epiphany, this antiphon is repeated four times; traditionally, the first repetition was followed by three Kyrie eleisons, the second by Gloria Patri, the third by Sicut erat, and the fourth by three more Kyrie eleisons.

The following recording of the antiphon in choro for Epiphany was taken on Tuesday at the church of Santa Maria della Consolazione in Milan, during the solemn celebration of Second Vespers. (The video track freezes early on.) The printed music and text are given below. Many chants of the Ambrosian Office are sung multiple times by different persons or groups within the choir, a custom which was followed by the cantors at this ceremony.

Nicola de’ Grandi took an old photo of the choir of the Duomo of Milan during the chanting of this antiphon, and colorized it; the result is very nice.

St. Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Sun: Brother Fire

Van Gogh-inspired rendition of fire

Lost in Translation #155

In his Canticle of the Sun, Saint Francis of Assisi has this to say about fire:

Laudato si, mi Signore, per frate Focu,

per lo quale ennallumini la nocte:

ed ello è bello et iucundo et robustoso et forte.

Which I translate as:

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Fire,

through whom you light the night and he is beautiful

and playful and robust and strong.

In the natural world, fire can be a destructive force, obliterating neighborhoods and forests. In the Catholic imagination, fire often represents bad things, such as the vices that burn within our souls. And of course, both eternal punishment and temporal punishment in the afterlife are described in terms of fire: the everlasting inferno of Hell and the refiner’s fire that is Purgatory.

On the other hand, the same Catholic imagination sees fire in a positive light. The Holy Spirit appeared as tongues of flame at the first Pentecost, setting the hearts of the disciples on fire with a love of God. There is an old blessing of fire that praises it for piercing the gloom of darkness. And the blessing of fire on Holy Saturday is an important prelude to the blessing of the Paschal Candle. It is also interesting that the Church insists that fire be present at every sacrifice of the Mass (in the form of lit candles) no matter how brightly lit the altar is.

Elijah calls down fire from Heaven

On a natural level, the management of fire is said to be one of the key elements in the development of our species, separating us decisively from the rest of the animal kingdom. That is certainly the point of the legend about Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. Fire exponentially increases our (delicious) food options, keeps us warm, and brings us light.

Saint Francis chooses to look at the bright side of fire when he talks about his brother, describing him as beautiful and playful and robust and strong.

Fire can certainly be beautiful. Henry David Thoreau (1817-62) thought we were fools to move one of the most beautiful sights in the world—a living fire—from the fireplace to a furnace in the basement. And fire is also playful: after all, it dances. Finally, fire is robust and strong, especially with the right fuel like a nice, dry, crackling log.

There is a charming story regarding Saint Francis of Assisi and fire. Saint Clare had asked to dine with Saint Francis, and after saying no several times, he finally agreed at the urging of his disciples. Francis had the table set on the bare ground, which was his custom. The two saints sat down along with several of their companions. As the first course was being served, Francis began speaking of God so sweetly and profoundly that the entire group went into a rapture. Meanwhile, it appeared to the residents of Assisi that Francis’ church (St. Mary of the Angels) and the entire forest around it were on fire. Grabbing their extinguishers and what not, they raced to where the group was dining, only to find them safe and sound, rapt in contemplation. According to the collection of stories known as the Little Flowers: “Then they knew for sure that it had been a heavenly and not a material fire that God had miraculously shown them to symbolize the fire of divine love which was burning in the souls of those holy friars and nuns.” Happy and relieved, they withdrew.

The ecstasy of Francis and his companions lasted a long time, and when it was over, all were so refreshed by spiritual food that none of them had a bite of their actual meal.

This article originally appeared in the Messenger of St. Anthony 127:9, international edition (September 2025), p. 15. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

Laus in Ecclesia Gregorian Chant Workshop in Nashville, TN

Catholics in the Nashville area: a Gregorian chant workshop not to be missed! Starts January 17, runs most Saturdays from 8-9:30am. Full details in the brochure pictured below.

Register here. 

A Meditation on the Birth of Our Lord from Mother Mectilde of the Blessed Sacrament

I have had occasion in the past to highlight the treasures to be found in the writings of Mother Mectilde de Bar (1614-98), whose works, though well known in their original French and in Italian translation, have only recently begun to be published on a large scale in English.

For this, we have Angelico Press to thank, which has, so far, brought out four volumes: The Mystery of Incomprehensible Love (a fine introduction); The “Breviary of Fire”: Letters by Mother Mectilde of the Blessed Sacrament; My Kingdom Is in Your Heart: Letters to the Duchess of Orleans & Meditations on Christian Life; and, just released, The True Spirit of the Perpetual Adorers of the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.

Chapter 10 of The True Spirit takes the form of an extended meditation on the nativity of Christ, which, as we are still in the larger Christmas season, seems fitting to share for the edification of our readers. I find striking the naturalness with which she draws on language from the Roman Canon, combining it with verses from both testaments, combining Scripture and Tradition in one mighty flood of fervor.

* * *

I cannot enter into the solemnity of this holy day without inviting you to come to adore greatness humbled, power become weakness, infinite majesty reduced to nothing, eternal Wisdom become a babe, immensity in miniature, and the Holy of Holies, the one whom the seraphim extol as thrice holy, reduced to the likeness of a sinner, and as St. Paul says, made sin, in order to become the victim for sinners. Here, come to earth, is the pure victim, the holy victim, the spotless victim....

Oh holy day! Oh glorious day! Oh sacred moment, in which Jesus becomes a babe and in which the august Trinity receives from Him an infinite glory and delight. Oh day of love! Oh day of joy! Gaudium magnum. Oh day of blessing and glory. Gloria in excelsis Deo. Oh day so ardently desired, which restores the reign and kingdom of God over all mankind. Day beyond description because of its excellence, but which we should bless and love with all our hearts, since it re-establishes us in peace: Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.

The causes of our jubilation are the humiliations, poverty, contempt, sufferings, annihilations, and death of a God. Jesus comes into the world, in our flesh, to be the victim of the divine justice and holiness. He comes to be sacrificed and to lose His life, and this is our joy. Oh depth! Oh abyss full of mysteries! The miseries, the pains, the poverty, the humiliations of a God, all this causes our felicity. Yes, this is the happiness and hope of our eternal destiny; for it is by being born, suffering, and dying that He begins to reconcile us with His Father.

Since we receive such great benefits from the Child-God, let us go to pay Him homage; let us go to gaze upon Him in the stable, on the straw where He makes His first sacrifice in the capacity of victim. Oh Jesus, Child-God! As soon as You appear on earth, You are destined to die, You breathe only sacrifice; and the love that drew You from the bosom of Your Father brings You to the Cross and to death. This was the first act You made on coming into the world, immolating Yourself to give an infinite glory and honor to Your Father, and to make reparation for the insults He received through the sins of men. Oh Jesus! From this moment we should regard You as a host. You came to die, and by dying You give us life.

Grant us the grace that the moment of Your birth may be the moment of our death; that Your life alone may be our life. We ask You, Lord, to annihilate our life, so that we may have no other life than Yours. That is what He desires of us, my Sisters. Therefore, let us cease to live [a natural life].

But how? Let us stop pursuing our own interests, following our humors, loving vanity and creatures. Let us stop being submerged in our senses, acting as if we were self-sufficient. God becomes a child for us to teach us littleness, simplicity, docility, surrender, abandonment, poverty, and so on. Let us bring to Him our poverty, our weaknesses, our darkness, our infirmities, our ignorance, our afflictions, our temptations, our sufferings, our abjection. All of this will be leasing to Him; a child receives everything given to him. He does not expect heavenly gifts from us. He knows that we are in the world of sinners, which only brings forth thorns and thistles. It is pride for us to want to give Him what we do not have. He came to clothe Himself in our miseries and to bear our sorrows, as it says in the Prophet; since He came to take these on Himself, can we give Him anything else?

Let us stay at His feet, adoring Him along with His most holy Mother, and offer Him our poverty; provided we give it to Him gladly, He will be content. In exchange, He will give us the graces, virtues, and mercies contained in His littleness. Let us not leave Him, let us gaze at Him ceaselessly; and if we have no other way to honor Him than to behold Him, He will be very pleased with that, and our souls will be strengthened from it. (pp. 67-69)

Let us speak of Your poverty, oh my Savior! Alas! Who can comprehend it? A life poor, unknown, and suffering. A life of unfathomable privation: poor in the womb of His glorious Mother, poor in the manger, poor on the flight into Egypt, poor in the house of St. Joseph, poor in the desert of His penitence, poor in His public life, poor on the Cross, poor in His death, and prodigiously poor in His divine Eucharist! This extraordinary poverty gives an infinite glory to God His Father and makes Him reign fully. This same kingdom of God is ours, but only the one who is perfectly poor understands it. Those who do not have a pure heart will never possess it; it is shown only to the poor and the little, who are no longer anything in themselves, to those who are buried in littleness and nothingness. When everything in the soul is consumed in this way, then Jesus rises like a glorious sun in the sky of the soul (which is the deepest part of its mind and of its substance), and He sheds His divine rays, which fill the soul’s interior completely, with glory, joy, love, and blessing beyond description. (p. 94)

Online Lecture and Q&A with Sir James MacMillan, January 17: “Setting the Words of the Mass to Music in the Secular Environment of Our Time”

The composer’s challenge of writing a Mass setting in the sixteenth century presented itself on a more local level - a setting to be sung in a certain place and time, mindful of the wishes of a patron, and perhaps with a mind towards publication and use elsewhere. Received in an environment integrally linked to liturgical practice, a Mass did not have to make a case for its existence. Even in the nineteenth century, the liturgical practice yet served as a justification for the text which might now be set for a concert setting, aimed at dramatic effect, particularly in the Requiem.

What can be said today? Mass settings are heard in the liturgical context only by a small subset of people. The average Catholics who regularly attend Mass rarely hear something approaching the artistic integrity of a Mass by Palestrina or Rheinberger. The average concert-goer, too, rarely hears a Mass and then usually only the occasional Requiem which, for them, has lost its cultural cachet as something used in religious practice. The Mass presents in our time as an artifact of some long-lost culture, perhaps interesting as a museum piece or an homage to a bygone era. Catholic practice for the average parish, too, is often yet bereft of the hearing of artistically substantial works, presenting a challenge for the intrepid music director to help Catholics feel at home in beautiful works which might seem to them as “a concert at Mass.” There are many miles to be traversed to plant the seeds of a rich culture for reception of the Mass, and certainly readers of the NLM know and are engaged in this project of the re-Christianization of culture and the re-sacralization of liturgical practice.

The current culture presents a particular challenge (and opportunity) for the modern composer: can one compose something that stands on its own as artistically significant in a concert setting so as to draw people into the mysteries bespoken, and yet can it be actually used in a liturgical setting, fulfilling the purposes and qualities of sacred music the Church requires? Or, perhaps the concert aspect is to be shriven altogether, focusing again on the local instantiation as in olden times, again focusing on a culture of lived liturgical practice.

Sir James MacMillan has been writing Masses for a long time in his illustrious career, and is uniquely skilled in our time at writing which makes a case for the Mass, preaching the mysteries of the Mass to the concert-going audience and yet writing for parish and cathedral choirs music the Church gladly receives as part of the treasury of sacred music.

MacMillan’s Missa Brevis, written when he was just 17 but not premiered until 30 years later, displays the remarkable skill of a young composer.

The Catholic Institute of Sacred Music is happy to invite you to the first event of its spring term of its fourth annual Public Lecture and Concert Series to explore this topic with Sir James. The lecture, available online for free or a suggested donation of $20, will feature some of Sir James’ movements from Masses and an opportunity for Q&A. The lecture will be held online via Zoom; an RSVP is required.

Saturday, January 17th

10:00 a.m. PST | 1:00 p.m. EST

Registration available here.

We hope to see you there!

Why Look to the East?

We continue Luisella Scrosati’s series on the orientation of Christian worship with her sixth part, “Perché guardare ad est“, originally published in Italian on the website of La Nuova Bussola Quotidiana on December 14, and reproduced here by permission of the editors. (Read Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5)

Why did Christians insist so much on praying towards the east? Why did they do everything possible to build churches and altars oriented in that direction? Why so much attention and insistence?

Before investigating the rich meaning of the orientation of prayer, which we have already presented in part (see here), it is necessary to recall a fundamental principle that we have forgotten in the spiritualism that has invaded the Catholic world, a spiritualism that translates into an exclusivity of interiority to the detriment of exteriority. Damascene writes:

It is not without reason or by chance that we prostrate ourselves in adoration towards the east, but it is because we are constituted by visible and invisible nature, that is, intelligible and sensible, so that we perform a twofold adoration directed towards the Creator. (Exposition of the Faith, 85)

Our human nature has this twofold dimension; it is in its integrity that it is called to worship God. It is quite evident to contemporary man that a division that sacrifices the invisible and intelligible aspect of worship can lead to a purely formal, sterile, and empty worship; on the other hand, the opposite seems less felt and understood, namely, that the elimination of the visible and sensible dimension in worship creates no less of a problem. Whichever way you look at it, a “schizophrenia” in worship always entails a sickness of the religious man.

Faced with the complacency with which some today would dismiss the problem of the orientation of prayer – the kind of person who says “the important thing is to pray” (and nothing else) – the Christians of the centuries that preceded us, up to the dawn of modernity, knew very well that this physical orientation expresses and conditions the inner orientation of life.

In his Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, to which I already referred in the previous article of this series, William Durandus summarizes the stratification of meanings and mysteries that oriented prayer confesses, and recalls the power and simplicity of a bodily posture. We look to the east, primarily because our whole being is turned toward Christ, “the splendor of eternal light,” who visited us like the sun rising from on high to enlighten us, immersed in darkness and the shadow of death (cf. Luke 1, 78). Turning our bodies toward this earthly light, which since creation has been a sign of the light of Christ the Redeemer, we are also exhorted, Durandus explains, “to turn our minds to higher realities.” In this latter respect, looking toward the east has the same meaning as turning our gaze upward in prayer.

The third reason he offers is a curious one: “because those who want to praise God must not turn their backs on him.” Who knows what Durandus would say about our liturgical gatherings! In reality, it is the “negative” corollary of the first two and further emphasizes the importance of the bodily gesture. Paying attention to orienting one’s body in a certain direction, a gesture that reminds the soul that it too is called to orient itself, to tune in to God, means at the same time spurring it not to forget God by turning its back on him.

It is interesting to note that in the rite of Baptism, the catechumen was asked to confess his faith by turning to the east, while turning his back on the kingdom of darkness, symbolized by the west, which he was determined to renounce forever. This rite is like the photographic negative of what Durandus expresses and marks once again that Christian life is essentially a turning towards the light of Christ: “The night is far gone, the day is at hand. Let us then cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light” (Rom 13, 12).

Durandus, who is generally inspired by St. John Damascene on this theme, explicitly refers to it when he indicates the orientation of prayer as the search for our true homeland.

Scripture adds: “Then the Lord planted a garden in Eden, in the East, and placed there the man whom he had formed” (cf. Gen 2, 8) and who, having violated the divine command, was banished from the delights of the garden, evidently to the West. Seeking our original homeland and keeping our gaze fixed on it, we worship God. (Exposition of the Faith, 85)

Orientation is decisive in constantly reminding man that he is in search of another homeland, that his heart must not settle for the false delights of this world: his original condition is different, and so is the eternal destiny to which he is called. Every time we look to the east, we confess the infinite goodness of God who created us in integrity and grace, and we shed tears of nostalgia for our lost condition and of desire for the true homeland that is promised to us. Looking to the east therefore means rejecting any attempt at a worldly Christianity, a Christianity that presumes to build the city of man, forgetting the City of God, the “new heavens and a new earth, in which righteousness shall dwell” (2 Peter 3:13).

Looking to the east, we also meet the gaze of Christ who, from the cross, “looked to the west,” toward that kingdom of darkness from which he was about to rescue us with the Cross. Meeting this gaze softens the hardness of the heart and causes new tears of gratitude and repentance to flow, while we await his return as judge with fear and hope. In fact, says Damascene,

Christ, rising up, ascended towards the East, and in this way the apostles worship him, and so he will come again in the way he was seen departing towards heaven…. Therefore, ready to welcome him from the East, we turn towards it and worship him. (Ibid.)

By this gesture we confess that history does not lead to absurdity, does not lead to the triumph of evil, despite appearances to the contrary; nor is it a circle closed in on itself and always the same. It goes towards the infallible and unappealable judgment of Christ, who will reveal the thoughts of every heart.

The orientation of prayer thus synthesizes the entire Christian revelation on the origin of man and his redemption, on his eternal destiny, on the direction of history, uniting it with the symbolic reality of creation.

Few other gestures can hold so many meanings and unleash their power. Every time the Christian people (and each individual) remembers to turn towards the east for prayer, they confess and reinvigorate the great hope of the Church, which awaits, renewed by tears, the arrival of her Bridegroom, who “comes forth from his bridal chamber” (Ps 19, 5), like the sun peering over the horizon in the east.

The hour is uncertain but the coming is certain – the moment when, suddenly, we will hear the voice that will shake us from our sleep: “Behold, the bridegroom! Go out to meet him!” (Mt 25, 6). And blessed are those who, with readiness, will turn toward the east to welcome the coming Christ.

The Gospels of the Epiphany (Part 1)

The feast of the Epiphany is one of the richest of the Church’s liturgical year, commemorating several different events in the life of Our Lord. The Roman and other western rites have traditionally laid the strongest emphasis on the visit of the three Magi to the infant Jesus, which is recounted in the Gospel of the feast; the paintings and sarcophagi from the catacombs of Rome attest to the great antiquity of this tradition. In the Byzantine Rite, on the other hand, the visit to the Magi is read on Christmas Day, and the Epiphany is principally focused on the Baptism of the Lord, as may be seen in the icon of the feast. The Roman Rite traditionally assigns the celebration of this latter event to the octave day of the Epiphany, which was officially renamed “the Baptism of the Lord” in the 1961 rubrical reform; this change was carried over into the post-Conciliar liturgy. The Epiphany is also traditionally the day on which the date of Easter is announced to the faithful, and the feast and its vigil are the occasion of several blessings in the Rituale.

The Adoration of the Magi, depicted on a Christian sarcophagus of the 4th century, now in the Pio-Christian collection of the Vatican Museums.

At the first Mass of Christmas, the Church reads the revelation of the Incarnation to the people of the ancient covenant, represented by the shepherds; at the dawn Mass, these men of humble estate come to Bethlehem, and behold the Creator of the Universe as an infant sleeping in a manger. This private manifestation of God to the people of Israel on Christmas is complemented by a similarly private manifestation on Epiphany to the nations of the world, in the persons of the Magi. As St Fulgentius says in a sermon read during the octave of the Epiphany, “The shepherds were the first-fruits of the Jews; the Magi have become the first-fruits of the gentiles.” St Matthew does not say that the Wise Men found the Holy Family still at the stable in Bethlehem, where they had been found earlier by the shepherds, but the Church’s artistic tradition has depicted it thus, precisely to emphasize the connection between these two “epiphanies”.

The last antiphon of Christmas Matins is “God hath made known, alleluja, his salvation, alleluja,” words which are repeated at both Lauds and Vespers; the psalm from which they are taken, Psalm 97, has been associated with the Nativity of the Lord from very ancient times. A subsequent verse of the same psalm is sung as the communion antiphon of the third and most solemn of the three Christmas Masses, and is repeated several times during the octave: “All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.” These words are fulfilled in the Epiphany, when the representatives of the ends of the earth, the Magi, come to worship the Christ Child, God Incarnate for our salvation. Therefore, although the Gospel does not say how many they were, Christian art from the earliest times (and especially in Rome) has usually shown them as three, representing the three parts of the world known to ancient peoples, Asia, Africa and Europe, descendents of the three sons of Noah.

The Adoration of the Magi, by Flemish painter Gerard David, ca. 1490.

From the earliest times, the Roman Gospel of the third Mass of Christmas has been the Prologue of St John (1, 1-14); this is attested already in the middle of the seventh century in the very oldest lectionary of the Roman Rite, the Comes Romanus of Wurzburg. In the high Middle Ages, the custom emerged of reading this same text at the end of the Mass, as part of the celebrant’s thanksgiving. At the third Mass of Christmas, therefore, the Gospel of the Epiphany was read in its place, uniting the revelation of the Incarnate Word to Israel with His revelation to the nations. It is worth noting that the Gospels of both Christmas and Epiphany end with a genuflection, by which we imitate the Magi in kneeling before the Divine Infant, just as we honor the Incarnation every Sunday by genuflecting during the Creed at the words “Et incarnatus est.” (The 1961 rubrical reform of Pope St John XXIII prescribes that there be no last Gospel at this Mass.)

In the Middle Ages, another pair of Gospels was added to the liturgy to associate the feasts of Christmas and Epiphany. At Matins of Christmas, the Genealogy of Christ according to St Matthew (1, 1-16) was sung before the Te Deum and the Midnight Mass, at Epiphany Matins, the Genealogy according to St Luke (3, 21 – 4, 1). Both of these were normally sung with the same ceremonies that accompany the singing of the Gospel at Solemn Mass. Since these texts are fairly repetitive, musicians composed special and elaborate music for them; they were often set for two deacons or groups of deacons, who would alternate the verses.

St Matthew’ genealogy was clearly chosen for Christmas because it ends with St Joseph, “the husband of Mary, from whom was born Jesus, that is called Christ.” In German-speaking lands, it was usually follow by the antiphon “O mundi Domina”, a final O antiphon on the cusp between Advent and Christmas. That of St Luke was then assigned to Epiphany because it is preceded by an account of the Baptism of Christ (vs. 21-23), one of the principal events commemorated by the feast. This Gospel ends with Christ departing into the desert “lead by the Spirit”, a distant prelude to the coming Lenten fast. Commenting on the reason why these two Gospels are read on their respective feasts, Sicard of Cremona writes in about 1200, “Matthew reckons (the genealogy) by descending (from Abraham to Joseph), because he is describing the humanity of Christ, by which He descends to us. Luke recounts (the genealogy) ascending, since from the baptized One he ascends to God, showing the effects of baptism; because the baptized become sons of God.” (Mitrale, V, 6)

Folio 19r of the Schuttern Gospels, an early 9th century illuminated manuscript produced at the Abbey of Schuttern in Baden-Württemberg, Germany.

These texts occur in virtually every use of the Roman Rite except that of the Roman Curia itself, the ancestor of the Breviary of St. Pius V; they were retained after the Tridentine reform in the proper breviaries of certain religious orders, including the Premonstratensians, Dominicans, and Carmelites of the Ancient Observance.

Here is a marvelous recording of the Genealogy of Christ according to St Luke from Epiphany Matins.

An equally nice version of the Genealogy according to St Matthew from Christmas Matins, sung by the Schola Hungarica; brevitatis causa, the names between “the wife of Uriah” and Jacob, the father of St Joseph, are omitted in this recording. (There is small mistake at the very beginning; the word “autem” is incorrectly added after the name of Abraham.)

Also from the Schola Hungarica, the antiphon “O mundi Domina”; the music is very similar to that of the standard seven O antiphons of Advent.

Aña O mundi Domina, regio ex semine orta, ex tuo jam processit Christus alvo, tamquam sponsus de thalamo; hic jacet in praesepio, qui et sidera regit. ~ O Lady of the world, born of royal descent, Christ hath now come forth from Thy womb, as a bridegroom from his chamber; he lieth in a manger, that also ruleth the stars.

A Full Training in Sacred Art Wall Painting Suitable for Catholics

Writing the Light’s 2-year Certificate, Starts Fall 2026, Applications Open Now.

If we want to see a genuine and widespread flourishing of sacred art in our churches, artists must learn to paint church interiors.

To participate authentically in the sacred liturgy, the environment in which we worship must foster an encounter with Christ in the Eucharist. This requires beautifully celebrated liturgies, as well as music, art, and architecture that harmonise with the actions of the celebrants and the congregation.

The frescoes at St Francis of Assisi, Baddesley Clinton, England, painted by contemporary English Catholic artist Martin Earle. See here for more infomation.

If the sacred art is to play its part in this, we need artists who can paint well and on a large scale, directly onto the walls and ceilings of our places of worship, creating sacred spaces that draw us powerfully into the encounter with Christ.

The Writing the Light School of Byzantine artist practice, under the internationally known icon painter George Kordis, now offers a full 2-year Certificate program. I would encourage all Catholic students who want to learn wall painting to consider this, regardless of the style they eventually hope to paint in. They will come out of the program with a facility in drawing and painting that is so great that they will be able to adapt what they learn to their chosen style. George, who is Greek Orthodox, is exceptionally open and friendly to non-Orthodox students. I attended an icon painting class with him in Crete in the summer of 2025, and about a third of the students were Catholic.

Although preserved most clearly in the Christian East, the Byzantine visual system is not foreign to Roman Catholicism. In fact, it formed the common artistic DNA of the undivided Church, which extended well into the second millennium in the West. Romanesque frescoes, early Gothic cycles, illuminated manuscripts, and even elements of early Renaissance sacred art all share its underlying principles:

● Rhythmic structuring of form

● Archetypal proportions

● Ordered movement of line

● Hierarchical composition

● A focus on theological meaning over naturalistic imitation

For contemporary Catholic artists seeking to recover a unified, theologically grounded approach to sacred imagery, this system offers a way forward. 

The Sacred Space program embraces this shared heritage, offering Catholics a way to reconnect with the structural principles that once shaped the visual identity of Western sacred art.

Dr. George Kordis, who heads the program, is regarded as one of the top contemporary master iconographers working in this specialized field today, and it is at the interest and urging of many students around the world that Writing the Light has formed a separate 2-year program for those students who wish to include a special focus on church wall painting in their training. With exposure to a deeper understanding of the role of church painting and the elements of design on a larger scale, students will enter into a two-year program that encompasses theory, methodology, materials, professional best practices, and firsthand apprenticeship experience working with Dr. Kordis, select expert faculty, and learning in real time alongside Kordis’s church-painting team. The select group of students in this limited cohort will engage in the practice of techniques both online and in in-person residencies, culminating in an opportunity to paint a chapel in Greece alongside Dr. Kordis, as well as options for various internship and work/study opportunities.

Dr George Kordis

For more information on the entrance requirements, go to https://writingthelight.com/church-wall-painting-program/.

Download this PDF, written by Writing the Light, especially for interested Catholics who are coming to this from a range of Western artistic traditions.

And watch this video of George painting a church in Hungary. Note the extraordinary facility with which he draws from memory: