A Reconstruction of an Archaic Rite of Holy Communion (Part 1): New Light on Traditional Eucharistic Praxis

The following article was sent to us by Zsolt Orbán, to whom we offer thanks. Mr. Orbán proposes a most intriguing hypothesis to account for what is depicted in a number of religious images and has survived to the present day in the customs of certain churches; the hypothesis also calls into question some of the changes in Eucharistic praxis characteristic of the twentieth-century liturgical reform. – PAK

According to the popular narrative, the Mass in ancient times took the form of a ‘love feast’, an agape so to speak, as is thought to be depicted in the wall paintings of the catacombs, with everyone seated around a single table. The Mass therefore did not take place with the congregation facing the Lord, and, most importantly, everyone received Communion in their hands.

The problem with this narrative is that it has no basis in reality: no text corroborates it, and no evidence in support of it can be found in the surviving pictorial records either.

In fact, none of the surviving wall paintings in the catacombs depict an actual liturgy. These images can only be regarded as symbolic references to the Holy Mass, to Christ, and to the Eucharist, and it is only in the case of depictions of Gospel scenes that they can be said to be artistic representations of historical events. Common themes include the wedding at Cana, the miraculous multiplication of the loaves, and the Last Supper; as symbols, the most frequent are the fish as a symbol of Christ (the fish – ichthys – is a Christian acronym: Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour), bread, and grapes all refer to the truths of the faith associated with the Holy Mass. In none of these symbolic references do we find any guidance regarding the Holy Mass or the manner of receiving Communion.

The earliest depictions of the rite of the Eucharist

A major innovation in depiction appeared sometime in the 4th or 5th century, perhaps first in the murals or mosaics surrounding the altar of a Christian basilica in Jerusalem. According to researchers’ assumptions, the archetype of such depictions may have been a mural or mosaic in a church in Jerusalem or Constantinople; most suspect that the former paintings of the destroyed Church of the Last Supper served as the model composition. Following this example, the motif of the Communion of the Apostles appears on liturgical metalwork and in books – at least according to the surviving works, generally dated to the 6th century, which survived iconoclasm. During this period, the motif of the Communion of the Apostles appears on several such liturgical objects and in Gospel books.

A characteristic feature of this mode of representation is that it depicts an explicit and specific reception of Holy Communion. On the two halves of the image, Christ himself administers communion to the apostles, giving them their share separately in the two species; this is the metadosis, the handing over of the Holy Body, and the metalepsis, signifying their partaking of the Holy Blood.

Of the earliest such depictions, I shall now examine the three earliest, and thus, from our perspective, the most significant examples, because unlike the speculations regarding the early Christian depictions mentioned above – which lack any concrete basis – these truly do depict an interpretable sacrificial practice, which is moreover supported by written texts. From these, it is indeed possible to reconstruct a highly probable communion practice which, according to the evidence of these artefacts, may have been widespread in the 5th and 6th centuries.

I. Codex Purpureus Rossanensis

This is an illuminated Gospel manuscript dating to the second half of the sixth century. It was discovered in the treasury of the cathedral in Rossano (southern Italy) and became widely known in the 19th century.

In this beautiful Gospel volume, with its crimson-coloured pages and delicate miniatures, two illustrations clearly depict a sacramental rite – the apostles receiving the Eucharist on their tongues. This, of course, has caused some difficult moments for ideologically driven researchers. For example, Franz Xaver von Funk, having established that the depiction shows Christ administering the Eucharist to the apostles on the tongue, declared – as a textbook example of a circular argument – that despite the many corroborating signs, the work could not date from the sixth century, because the practice of administering the Eucharist on the tongue did not exist before the eighth century.

The Receiving of the Holy Body

The scene is explained by the inscription at the top: “He took the bread, gave thanks, gave it to them, saying: This is my body.”

Christ stands on the left-hand side of the painting; the apostles approach him in a line, while in the segment below, Old Testament prophets point to the scene, their messages depicted on their pulpits with scriptural quotations (from left to right):

“O taste, and see that the Lord is sweet” (Psalm 33, 9); “This is the bread which the Lord hath given you to eat” (Exodus 16, 15); “And had rained down manna upon them to eat, and had given them the bread of heaven. Man ate the bread of angels.” (Psalm 77, 24-25); “And one of the seraphim flew to me… and said: ‘Behold this hath touched thy lips, and thy iniquities shall be taken away, and thy sin shall be cleansed.’ ” (Isaiah 6, 6-7)

What we see in the “communion” scene:

1. Three apostles approach for communion from the right, standing and with their hands held open at the sides of their torsos, bowing slightly.

2. Immediately before communion, one apostle stands with his outstretched hands concealed within his garment, forming a horizontal “altar cloth” from his himation (Greek outer garment).

3. An apostle, bowing, places both hands beneath Christ’s right hand and leans his mouth towards Christ’s hand. Christ holds his left hand horizontally, fingers bent, palm facing upwards, as if holding something in his palm (or rather, as the celebrant holds his left palm in the video clip shown at the end of the text)

4. An apostle beside him (in the background due to the composition of the image) raises his hands to heaven in thanksgiving.

A close-up of the reception of the Body of Christ

The reception of the Holy Blood

Christ stands here on the right, holding a chalice in both hands. The inscription above him reads: “Then he took the chalice in his hands, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my blood.’”

Below the Eucharist, there are again four Old Testament prophets; from left to right, the texts read: “This is the blood of the covenant, which the Lord hath made with you.” (Exodus 24, 8); “I take the chalice of salvation, and I call upon the name of the Lord.” (Ps. 115, 4); “And your chalice inebriateth me, like the finest wine.” (Ps 22, 5); “They that drink me shall yet thirst.” (Sir 24, 21)

What we see in the scene of the Eucharist:

1. From the left, three apostles approach for communion, their hands held at waist height alongside their torsos with open palms, bowing slightly.

2. In front of them, an apostle, just before receiving Communion, holds his hands at waist height, concealed within his garment, forming a horizontal ‘altar cloth’ from his himation.

3. An apostle bows, holding his hands beneath Christ’s hands holding the chalice, but without touching it.

4. An apostle stands beside him (behind him in the picture due to the composition), his left hand visible.

A close-up of the reception of the chalice

II. The Riha paten

This is a communion dish belonging to a hoard of liturgical vessels unearthed in Syria at the beginning of the 20th century. Bbased on the imperial seal found on the bottom of the vessel, it may have been made in Constantinople during the reign of Emperor Justinian II (565–578).

Christ himself is offering the Eucharist to the apostles; the two scenes of the reception of the two species are depicted in a single composition. Researchers believe that this type of depiction was originally modelled on a scene on the walls flanking the altar of a church in Jerusalem, from where it was copied and arranged into one composition on vessels and icons.

The reception of the Holy Blood is depicted on the left side of the paten:

1. Four apostles in the background; due to the composition, their hands are not visible

2. An apostle before the Eucharist, holding his hand out at waist height with an open palm

3. An apostle, his hands covered by his himation, holds them out at waist height, raised slightly, whilst drinking from the chalice held by Christ. His hands do not touch the chalice, being covered by the himation.

Close-up of the Communion scene

The chalice used for communion can be seen on the right side of the altar. Below is a photograph of a similar 6th century chalice.

The reception of the Holy Body on the right side of the paten:

1. Four apostles in the background; their hands are not visible due to the composition

2. One apostle just before receiving Communion, his hand extended forward at waist height with an open palm

3. One apostle leans towards Christ’s right hand, holding his own hands (right hand in left palm, thumb resting on the back of the right hand) directly beneath Christ’s hand; his himation no longer covers his hands, it hangs from his left arm.

The “communion” scene enlarged

III. The Stuma paten

This paten is of the same period as the Riha paten and belongs to the same treasure hoard found at Caper Koraon (modern day Kurin, Syria). Based on the imperial seal visible on it, the paten was likely made in 577-78.

The reception of the Holy Body on the right-hand side of the paten:

1. Three apostles in the background; due to the composition, their hands are not visible.

2. An apostle before the Eucharist, his right hand raised with an open palm, his left hand hidden beneath his himation

3. An apostle leaning towards Christ’s right hand, his mouth at the back of Christ’s hand, his elbows at waist height, his hands slightly raised and covered by the himation

4. Another apostle, bowing after Communion, hands extended forward in thanksgiving, fingers slightly spread, palms turned upwards and spread apart, his himation hanging from his left hand.

The reception of the Holy Blood on the left side of the paten:

1. Four apostles in the background; their hands are not visible due to the composition.

2. An apostle stands with uplifted hands veiled by a himation, his eyes turned heavenward.

3. Another apostle drinks from the chalice, which Christ holds out to him with both hands. The apostle’s hands are not visible; they are covered by the himation (the lower edge of the himation is clearly identifiable as it hangs in front of the altar cloth).

Regarding the depiction on the patens, researchers note that, contrary to the order of the liturgy, the wine appears on the left and the bread on the right, although in eighty percent of cases this is usually the reverse. Christ always gives the bread with his right hand and holds the chalice in both hands.

Common features of the depicted communion scenes

Based on the images presented, in my opinion, despite the differences in the individual details visible in them, common features can be identified, on the basis of which a communion rite can be reconstructed using the following interpretative principles. The principles are:

a. the same rite

A common feature of the objects presented is that researchers generally associate them with the eastern, Syrian regions: this applies not only to the two patens but also to the Rossano Codex, which, according to several researchers, may have been brought to Italy to escape the wrath of iconoclasts. And since their dates of origin can also be placed in the same period, we may rightly assume that the sacrificial features depicted on them may be representations of the same sacrificial rite.

b. the simultaneous depiction of a sequence of actions occurring one after the other

Another important point concerns the relationship between the depicted reality and the medium of representation: in these images, a dynamic sequence of events is narrated using static visual elements. Consequently, these compositions are series of cartoon-like images, woven together from several scene fragments determined by the constraints of space and composition. This can be observed in the procession of the apostles approaching the Eucharist, in which the preparations before the Eucharist, the moment of the Eucharist itself, and the actions preceding or following it in chronological order all appear simultaneously.

c. didactic nature

The third aspect concerns the function of the depictions. These were not originally mere decorations, narrative accounts or illustrations, but depictions of a didactic nature. This is particularly true if the researchers’ theory regarding the archetype of the depiction is correct and the Communion of the Apostles did indeed first appear in the wall paintings of a church. For this very reason, these depictions do not merely portray an ancient event – for which it would have sufficed to capture the moment of communion – but the depicted scene fragments also convey a kind of teaching. Simultaneously they present a chronological arrangement of the event’s parts in accordance with the essence of the given teaching – precisely in the spirit of didactic intent.

Reconstruction of the Communion practice

Based on the above considerations, the specific rite of communion can be reconstructed from these depictions, despite the variations visible on individual objects.

To begin with, it is worth paying attention to the himations.

In this regard, we can see that in the Rossano Codex, in the part of the scene closest to the moment of the communion, the hands of the apostle receiving communion are not concealed in the himation; this is only visible with the apostle behind the communicant. On the Riha paten, the himation is on the hands only when receiving the Holy Blood, whereas on the Stuma paten, it is present when receiving both species. Based on the first point outlined above, these differences cannot be attributed to a different rite; therefore, there must be another reason for the variation in the depictions.

Regarding the use of the himation, rather than some more abstract, elusive spiritual significance in holding it horizontally like a cloth, we may surmise a more concrete, practical-spiritual reason stemming from reverence for the Holy Eucharist: the endeavour to prevent the Body and Blood from falling. If, however, this is the case, it is at first incomprehensible why, in the Rossano Codex, we see hands concealed within the himation only in the case of the apostle preparing for communion. Why does the Rossano Codex not show hands covered by the himation in the case of the apostle closest to Christ? And why is the himation absent from the Riha paten during the reception of the Body?

The reason for this is that, due to the limited scope of the composition, only the scene depicting the teaching intended to be conveyed could be included: the frame from the ‘cartoon’ that carries a very essential teaching.

The use of the himation at the moment of communion probably took place in every instance as depicted on the Stuma paten.

The reconstructed sequence of the Eucharist:

1. Before the person preparing for communion reaches the celebrant, they spread their himation over both hands. Since this may have been done for the reason mentioned above, it would make no sense for them to do so if the himation were not already on their hands at the time of communion; it can therefore be assumed that it was always in place.

2. At the moment of communion, the communicant stands bowed, holding his hands, covered by the himation, outstretched beneath the minister’s hands, both when receiving the Body and the Blood. Furthermore, at the moment of communion, his hands do not touch either the chalice or the bread.

3. The minister places the Host in the communicant’s mouth. In doing so, he does not hold the paten in his hand, but takes the Host from the paten on the altar table with his right hand, whilst holding his left palm beneath it so that not a single crumb falls. The communicant’s himation, held horizontally, acts as a ‘safety cloth’ to prevent the sacred species from falling… (as can be seen in the video linked at the end of the text)

4. Immediately after Communion, the images suggest that the communicant leans towards the minister’s hand and kisses the back of their right hand – but only upon receiving the Body.

5. After the kiss of the hand, the communicant stands (Rossano Codex, Riha paten) or bows (Stuma paten), raising empty palms to the sky or extending them forward in thanksgiving.

Instead of the reception of the Holy Body, all three objects depicted show a kiss given to the back of Christ’s right hand; for if they were to depict the Body being placed in the mouth, the celebrant would not be leaning towards the back of the hand. If there was indeed a kiss on the minister’s hand immediately after Communion, this would not have been possible during the reception of the Precious Blood, as the minister held the chalice with both hands, and its contents could easily have spilled if the communicant had leaned towards the minister’s hand. And since, due to the narrow frames, only the essentials could be depicted in such a pictorial composition, the moment of receiving the Body is not visible in any of them.

The reason for this may well be found in the didactic nature of the church scene, which can be regarded as the archetype for the depiction of the Apostles’ Communion: since there is a difference regarding whether a kiss of the hand takes place during the reception of the two elements, it was necessary to emphasise to the congregation when depicting the Communion that the teaching should be before their eyes: one may only kiss the minister’s hand after receiving the Body, but not after receiving the Precious Blood.

To be concluded next week.

Ss Primus and Felician, and the Emptying of the Catacombs

Today is the feast day of Ss Primus and Felician, who were martyred around the year 297. The traditional account of their passion is not regarded as historically reliable, but there is no doubt of the fact of their martyrdom, or of the antiquity of devotion to them. They are said to have been brothers of the Roman patrician class who devoted themselves to works of charity; Primus was quite elderly when they were arrested for the practice of the Christian Faith. The judge who tried them separated them from each other, and tried to convince each one to sacrifice to the pagan gods by saying that the other had already done so. Neither of them was deceived, and so they were taken to a place about 12 miles from Rome near the town of Nomentum, and there beheaded. After the end of the persecutions, a church was built over the site of their burial, but this no longer exists.

The martyrdom of Ss Primus and Felician, depicted in a collection of Saints’ lives known as the Weissenau Passionary, 1170-1200. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.) Felician, looking much like Jesus, is the one in the middle being nailed to a tree trunk, while Primus is lying down with his hands tied, and having molten lead poured into his mouth.

What makes these two Saints particularly noteworthy for us today is that they were the very first whose relics were removed from the site of their original burial and brought into a Roman church. This took place around the year 645, in the reign of Pope Theodore I, and is important for two reasons. The first is that is shows that by the mid-7th century, Christianity had definitively broken many of the ancient Roman taboos about the treatment of the dead. The foremost of these would be the very ancient law which required that they be kept apart from the living in their own places, the “necropolises”, or cities of the dead, outside the walls of the cities of the living. Furthermore, the Romans had many prohibitions of both a legal and religious nature about moving bodies at all from their original burial places, which were now also evidently set aside.

Two Roman mausolea in the necropolis just outside the walls on the southeast side of Pompei. Image from Wikimedia Commons by Diego Delso, (delso.photo, CC BY-SA 4.0).

This in turn would make possible one of the most important shifts in the history of early Christian archeology, the gradual emptying of the catacombs. The Roman prohibition on burying the dead inside the city walls applied to the Christians as much as to anybody else, which is why they made their underground cemeteries, which we now call the catacombs, outside the city. For the first three centuries after the end of the persecution, these cemeteries continued to be used for burials, but also became pilgrimage sites for those who wanted to venerate the tombs of the martyrs buried within them. By the time of Pope Theodore, however, the political instability of Italy made such pilgrimages out into the countryside potentially very dangerous, and part of his motivation for moving the martyrs into Rome itself would certainly have been so that pilgrims could venerate their relics in the relative safety of the city.

Over the next few centuries, therefore, the catacombs would be completely emptied of Saints’ relics, such that by the 10th century, we have a graffito at the entrance of one of them which says, “Turn around, there’s nothing to see here”, meaning that all of the martyrs had been taken away to the churches. When the catacombs were excavated in modern times, only one grave which certainly belongs to a martyr was found still undisturbed, that of St Hyacinth (Sept. 11) in the catacomb of Bassilla on the via Salaria.

Empty graves in the catacomb of Domitilla in Rome. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Giovanni Battista, CC BY-SA 4.0.) 

Pope Theodore built a chapel for Saints Primus and Felician at the church of St Stephen on the Caelian hill, generally known as “Santo Stefano Rotondo – round St Stephen’s”, the only round church built in Rome in ancient times. Although the entire building has been extensively rebuilt and redecorated since its original construction, a fair portion of the apsidal mosaic of this chapel remains in good condition. At the bottom is a poetic inscription in Latin: Aspicis auratum caelesti culmine tectum, / Astriferumque micans praeclaro lumine vultum. (You look upon a gilded roof with its height in heaven, and a star-bearing face that shines with brilliant light. Photo by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P.)

Catholic Education Foundation Seminar 2026: The Role of the Priest in Today’s Catholic School

July 14-16, Cincinnati, Ohio

The 12th annual Catholic education conference for bishops, priests, and seminarians will take place July 14-16, at Mount St. Mary’s Seminary, the Athenaeum in Cincinnati, Ohio; it is offered by the Catholic Education Foundation and led, as usual, by Fr Peter Stravinskas, who is the Executive Director of the CEF. He is also Dean of the Faculty of Education at Pontifex University, which offers the program he designed, the Master’s in Education in Catholic School Administration, and an Education Doctorate.

The intended audience is bishops, priests, and seminarians, and the seminar is based on the conviction that the viability of Catholic schools is directly proportional to the presence and activity of priests.

Further information can be found on the CEF website: catholiceducation.foundation or by calling: 215-327-5754; or emailing Fr Stravinskas directly at fstravinskas@hotmail.com

The cost is $700 (all-inclusive).

Speakers are:

• Rev. Peter M. J. Stravinskas (President, Catholic Education Foundation)
• Rev. John Belmonte, SJ (Superintendent of Schools, Diocese of Venice)
• Deacon Sean Costello (Superintendent of Schools, Diocese of Winona-Rochester)
• Rev. Michael Davis (Pastor, Archdiocese of Miami & Professor, Pontifex University)
• Carlos de Quesada (Vera Cruz Advisory)
• John Dejak (Director, Secretariat of Catholic Education, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops
• Brian Dorrian (Philosophy Department Head, Charlotte Catholic High School)
• Johann D’Souza (Clinical Psychologist)
• Sr. Mary Grace Walsh, ASCJ (Superintendent of Schools, Archdiocese of New York)
• Rev. James Kuroly (Rector/President, Cathedral Prep School & Seminary, Diocese of Brooklyn)
• Rev. Msgr. Thomas Machalski (Pastor, Diocese of Brooklyn)
• Rev. Christopher Peschel (Pastor & Diocesan School Board Member, Fall River, Massachusetts)
• Dr. Robert Royal (Editor, The Catholic Thing)
• Rev. Msgr. Joseph Schaedel (Vicar General Emeritus & Pastor Emeritus, Archdiocese of Indianapolis)
• Br. Owen Sadlier. OSF (Professor, St. Joseph Seminary, New York)

The seminar will include workshops dealing with the following topics: 

• Conciliar and Papal Teaching on Catholic Education
• The History of Catholic Education in the United States
• The Priest’s Presence in the School Community (Students, Faculty,
• Administration, Parents)
• The Priest as the Public Relations Man of the School
• Financial Concerns
• Models of Governance and Best Practices

For further information: call 215-327-5754 or email fstravinskas@hotmail.com.

The Sermon on the Mount, by Jan Brueghel

A Memoir on the Battle to Bring the Latin Mass to the Military

David Sonnier, a 1981 West Point graduate, loved the Army and worked to be a model soldier. A bend in his career path brought him into contact for the first time with the traditional Mass. His life, with that of his family, was changed forever—something quite a few Catholics can relate to!

Naturally, he wanted to share this great good with fellow soldiers, many of whom, as he discovered, were already longing for something more reverent and traditional than they were getting in their chapels.

Sonnier began respectfully petitioning for a traditional Latin Mass to be offered on the bases where he served, in accordance with the policy of John Paul II's letter Ecclesia Dei. He watched in disbelief as chaplains at every level and several bishops, over the course of six years, made every effort to thwart his efforts, stopping at nothing and stooping to any ruse.

In his gripping memoir Rites and Wrongs: One Man's Struggle for the Latin Mass in the U.S. Army, just released by Os Justi Press, Lt. Col. Sonnier relates—documentary evidence in hand—the tangled web of lies, backstabbing, slander, double-crossing, bureaucratic manipulation, letters intercepted and undelivered, veiled threats, and secret meetings, all to ensure that no Latin Mass would ever be celebrated on a military installation, even when willing priests were available. 

The 97-percent-Christian chaplaincy at the time allowed chapels to be used for Protestant praise & worship services and even Wiccan pagan ceremonies (!), but the TLM was subjected to a perpetual ban. When an exasperated Sonnier finally took his story to the press, it was taken up in major newspapers and eventually reached the floor of Congress in Washington, DC.

A true story from a dark period (those who do not know how bad things were before Summorum Pontificum can use this as a crash course), Sonnier's first-person account ranges through the world of the Colombian Army, Special Operations, Fort Bragg, NATO, and the Vatican. A cast of colorful characters enters the drama: Michael Davies, Bishop Timlin, Msgr. Calkins, Msgr. Perl, Cardinal Castrillon Hoyos, and clergy from the Institute of Christ the King and the Society of St. Pius X, together with a whole roomful of multi-star generals and their entourages—plus authoritarian chaplains who launch into spittle-flecked nutties at the slightest mention of Latin, chant, or anything reminiscent of Catholicism before the 1960s. also play a role.

Though active or retired servicemembers and lovers of military history will especially appreciate this memoir, Rites and Wrongs is a captivating read for any Catholic who relishes a story full of life-changing realizations, backroom intrigues, surprising reversals, and hard-earned wisdom. Lt. Col. Sonnier's candor and courage shine through these pages, full of valuable lessons for life, faith, and freedom.

For a brief video introduction to the book:

To look inside, see the endorsements, or order a copy in paperback, hardcover, or ebook, visit this page.

Rites and Wrongs is also available from any Amazon site around the world (e.g., in the USA here).

A Motet and Mass by Palestrina for Corpus Christi

Here is another big win for the YouTube suggestion algorithm, a motet by Palestrina which has the first two verses of the epistle of Corpus Christi (1 Corinthians 11, 23-29) as its text. For simplicity’s sake, I have titled this post “for Corpus Christi”. But our friend Thomas Neal, who is an expert on Palestrina, tells me that the exact occasion for which it was composed is unknown; it may have been written for Holy Thursday instead.

“Brethren: I indeed have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed, took bread, and giving thanks, broke it, and said, ‘Take ye, and eat: this is my body, which shall be delivered for you: this do for the commemoration of me.’”

The motet is preserved in only one manuscript (preserved in the archives of the Cappella Giulia in the Vatican), which dates to around 1584, and contains many other pieces copied out in Palestrina’s own hand. He later used it as the basis of a very beautiful Mass for eight voices, which is therefore called the Missa Fratres, ego enim accepi, published posthumously in 1601.

Relics of St Norbert

Today is the feast of St Norbert, the founder of the Premonstratensian Order, who died in 1134 as archbishop of Magdeburg, in the modern German state of Saxony-Anhalt, and was buried in the choir of his order’s local church. The city was one of the first to turn Protestant in the 16th-century, and although the Saint’s relics were not profaned, as were those of so many others, it was no longer possible for Catholics to venerate them. During the Thirty Years’ War, however, the abbot of Strahov, the Premonstratensian house in Prague, was able to recover them during a temporary Catholic occupation of the area, and bring them to back to his abbey, where they were officially installed on May 2nd, 1627, and have remained to this day.

The shrine of St Norbert in the choir of Strahov Abbey.

The Premonstratensians traditionally kept a feast on May 7th of the translation of St Norbert’s relics; the Matins lessons of the second nocturn state that when the original burial site was opened, the skeleton was found intact. These photographs were taken several years ago during another recognitio (verification) of the condition of the bones. 

Here are some great old photographs of the shrine in Strahov Abbey, and of a procession held in Prague with the relics; they are not precisely dated, but František Kordač, who was Archbishop of Prague from 1919-31, is shown in the procession.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Hymns for the Medieval Office of Corpus Christi

When Pope Urban IV promulgated the feast of Corpus Christi in 1264, he also offered a complete set of Mass and Office texts composed at his behest by St Thomas Aquinas. These are rightly recognized to be among the finest of the High Middle Ages, and have been treasured by Catholics as the official liturgical expression of Eucharistic devotion for many centuries. However, the feast had already been established almost two decades earlier in the city of Liège; in his bull Transiturus, Pope Urban refers to the visionary St Juliana of Mont-Cornillon, who had composed an office of Corpus Christi before St Thomas. Her assistant in this task and in the promotion of the feast was a canon of the church of St Martin in Liège, John of Lausanne; this church and several others continued to use the older Office or parts thereof well after Pope Urban’s time. In a 15th-century manuscript of St Juliana’s life, a note is added by a later hand that refers to this Office, saying that “(i)t begins with the words Animarum cibus, and is found in its entirety in the church of Tongres (about ten miles from Liège) and elsewhere; then Urban IV instituted the office which is now sung everywhere.” (As noted in “The Feast of Corpus Christi”, edited by Barbara R. Walters et al., Penn. State Univ. Press, 2006, p. 61.)

The collegiate church of St Martin in Liège, depicted in a watercolor by Joseph Fussell (1818-1912). Image from Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0. 

Despite the broad liturgical standardization after the council of Trent, Liège maintained its own proper medieval use, edited according to certain criteria of the Tridentine reform, until the French Revolution ended the independence of the city’s Prince-Bishopric. It would appear from the printed liturgical books of the era that the office of St Thomas was adopted throughout the diocese as part of this reform. At the church of St Martin, however, where the feast of Corpus Christi was first celebrated, several parts of the older office Animarum cibus were added to St Thomas’; among them, proper hymns are assigned to the minor hours of Prime, Terce, Sext and None. (This was done in some parts of the Low Countries on a very small number of feasts, where the use of Rome has the same hymns at these hours every day.) As was typical of the period, several lines are borrowed from other hymns already part of the general repertoire; for example, the first line of the hymn of Prime, “Summae Jesu clementiae” is borrowed from a much older hymn which begins with those same words.

At Prime
Summae Jesu clementiae,
Qui ob salutem mentium
Caelestis alimoniae
Nobis praestas remedium

Mores, vitam et opera
Rege momentis omnibus,
Et beatis accelera
Vitam dare cum civibus.

Praesta, Pater, per Filium,
Praesta per almum Spiritum,
Quibus das hoc edulium
Prosperum serves exitum. Amen.

Jesus, of greatest clemency, who for the salvation of our souls grant us the remedy of heavenly nourishment, in every moment guide our manners, life and works, and hasten also to grant us life with the blessed citizens (of heaven.)
(Each of these hymns is sung with the same doxology:)
Grant this, Father, through the Son, and through the Holy Spirit, and a properous end to those to whom you give this food.

At Terce
Sacro tecta velamine
Pietatis mysteria
Mentes pascunt dulcedine,
Qua satiant caelestia.

Sit ergo cum caelestibus
Nobis commune gaudium,
Illis quod se praesentavit,
Nobis quod se non abstulit.

The mysteries of devotion, covered by a sacred veil, feed our souls with the same sweetness that fills those in heaven. Let this then be the joy which we share with them, that He has made Himself present to them, and Has not (by so doing) removed Himself from us.

At Sext
Splendor superni luminis,
Laudisque sacrificium
Coenam tui da numinis
Tuae carnis post prandium.

Saturatus opprobriis
Ad hoc cruci configeris
Et irrisus ludibriis
Crudeli morte plecteris

Splendor of heavenly light, and sacrifice of praise, grant the banquet of your Divine presence after that of your flesh. For this were you weighed down with reproaches, this nailed to the Cross, derided and mocked, and punished with a cruel death.

At None
Aeterna caeli gloria
Lux beata credentium
Redemptionis hostia
Tuarum pastus ovium.

Hujus cultu memoriae
Dirae mortis supplicio,
Nos de lacu miseriae
Educ qui clamas: Sitio.

Eternal glory of heaven, blessed light of believers, victim for our redemption, pasture of your sheep, by the worship of this memorial, by the punishment of this dreadful death, lead us forth from the pit of misery, you who cried out “I thirst.”

The Mass of St. Gregory the Great, by Robert Campin, 1440, or an assistant.

Each of these hymns contains a specific reference to the canonical hour at which it would be sung. The words “in every moment guide our manners, life and works” in the first hymn fit with one of the main ideas of the hour of Prime, to pray for the the sanctification of the day’s work; this is also expressed by the two invariable prayers of that Hour in the Roman Rite and most other uses. The references to receiving Communion in the hymn Sacro tecta velamine derive from the generally observed custom of the Middle Ages that the principle Mass of all major feast days was celebrated after the singing of Terce. The hymn for Sext refers to the Crucifixion which took place “at the sixth hour”, as St Matthew says, and that of None speaks of the death of Christ at the ninth hour, and His crying out “I thirst” just before, as told in the Gospel of St John.

The Offertory: Preparation of the Gifts or a Sacrifice to God? (Part 2)

Having surveyed the Offertory Rite in the 1962 Roman Missal and its theological rationale last week, we turn now to the Offertory Rite in the 1970 Roman Missal.

Modern Revision

Several liturgists of the twentieth century were either unaware or unimpressed with the explanations offered in our last post. They deplored the Offertory’s sacrificial language, its alleged clericalization, its silent recitation, and its medieval Gallican origin, which in their opinion destroyed the “noble simplicity” of the Roman Rite. Some even wanted the washing of the hands and the addition of water to the wine to be eliminated. And most saw the prayers as redundant since they touch upon several themes that are in the Canon. [1] Regarding the latter critique, what these liturgists failed to appreciate was how these prayers were structured to form anticipatory parallels with the Canon, and to develop several themes that are either in the Canon inchoately or not present at all. The result, writes Michael Fiedrowicz, is “a locus theologicus of the highest degree: [the Offertory’s] prayers and rites contain a theology of sacrifice…[that] is unambiguously articulated.” [2]

Vatican II’s Sacrosanctum Concilium makes no mention of the Offertory Rite, but a note from the Conciliar Liturgical Commission circulating at the time states:

The rite of the offertory is to be arranged in such a way that the participation of the people is more prominent. The priest’s prayers, which tend to express a private or singular piety, are to be reviewed; the prayer over the offerings is to be said aloud. [3]

The language is somewhat confusing. For example, how are the priest’s prayers, which frequently have in mind other people, both living and dead, “singular”?

Whatever the answer, the 1967 missa normativa (prototype of the Novus Ordo) went much further in its edits, eliminating almost all sacrificial language, the prayer to the Holy Spirit (Veni Sanctificator), and the Trinitarian prayer Suscipe Sancta Trinitas. An earlier drafted even omitted all offertory language as well, presumably conceiving of the Rite as nothing more than a “preparation of the gifts.” Pope Paul VI, however, insisted that the word offerimus (“we offer”) be incorporated into the two new prayers for the bread and wine, the so-called Berakah prayers (“Blessed are You, Lord God of all creation”). The prayer In spiritu humilitatis and the Orate fratres / Suscipiat were also retained, both of which have sacrificial language. And the name of the Secret was changed to Oratio super oblata, “The Prayer over the Offerings,” a name that presupposes something has indeed been offered.

Interestingly, the new rubrics ignore the wish of the Conciliar Liturgical Commission to have an audible Offertory, stating that the prayers are to be recited secreto (quietly) and may be said aloud only if there is no singing. (GIRM #141-2)

Finally, the beautiful prayer about human dignity (Deus qui humanae substantiae) was removed from the Ordinary. Writing about this decisions decades later, McEvoy and Lebech were astonished that the liturgical reforms uncoupled “human dignity from the mystery at the heart of the liturgy,” [4] especially “given the rise to prominence of the concept of human dignity with the human rights tradition after the Second World War.” They express the hope that “the prayer will be restored in its Tridentine integrity to the liturgy at some point in the future.” [5]

Reception

With its combination of pro- and non-offertory elements, the Novus Ordo Offertory has given rise to vastly different interpretations. Fr. Dennis Smolarski, S.J., is the author of the popular book How Not to Say Mass. Writing over thirty years after the promulgation of the new Missal, he advises his fellow celebrants:

Do not offer the gifts during their preparation – in particular, do not lift them high in the air. The 1969 Order of Mass significantly changed what formerly occurred between the Creed and the eucharistic prayer. In the current Order of Mass the gifts are received, prepared, and formally placed on the altar by the priest after he briefly blesses God in thanksgiving for God’s gifts. Formerly, we “offered” bread and wine to God, but now we realize that offering anything other than Christ is theologically inappropriate…. At this point of the Mass we do NOT OFFER – that will be done during the eucharistic prayer. [6]

Smolarski cites in his favor the fact that the new rubrics omit the gestures of offering, namely, of raising the host and the chalice to eye level. But Smolarski does not account for the language of offering in the prayers that remain or were added, nor does he attempt to reconcile his brazen claim that one should only offer Christ to God with the prayer In spiritu humilitatis, in which the priest offers himself to God—or, for that matter, with the biblical command that inspired the prayer. (see Rom. 12, 1)

At the other end of the spectrum is Fr. Michael McGuckian, S.J., who applauds the new Offertory for the opposite reason, namely, that it is more sacrificial on the strange grounds that less is more: “the language of [the] 1969 [Missal] is less overtly sacrificial, but is, if anything, more deeply so.” [7] McGuckian loves the Old Testament three-act model of sacrifice so much that he applies it in a fundamentalist manner to the Mass. To his thinking, if the Offertory corresponds to the laity slaying the victim, then Christ must be “really and truly present during the Offertory,” [8] before the priest’s consecration of the bread and wine; [8] and if the Canon corresponds to the second act, then it is not about Christ’s Passion and Death but His intercession in Heaven. McGuckian deplores the Tridentine rite as the “lowpoint” of the Offertory in Western liturgy for no other reason than that the procession of gifts by select lay folk is absent in it, [9] blissfully unaware of the fact that a presentation of gifts is not outlawed in the 1570 Missal and indeed occurred in some parts of Europe before the liturgical reforms.

Conclusion

Pace Smolarski, the Novus Ordo affirms, by virtue of the few prayers that it has, that the presentation of the gifts is also an offering to God. On other hand and pace McGuckian, it does so minimally, without any blessings of the oblata, offertory gestures, or clear theological articulation. 

The difference between the two Offertories reminds me of the difference between the robust mission statements of unapologetically Catholic colleges such as Thomas Aquinas College, which vow to “pass on the great intellectual patrimony of our civilization and the wisdom of the Church’s greatest thinkers, and to do so in complete fidelity to the Church and her Magisterium” versus the statements of CINO (Catholic In Name Only) universities that mumble something vague about educating the person “within the Jesuit, Catholic tradition.” The latter state nothing heretical but conduce to a climate of heresy and apostasy and, not surprisingly, heresies and apostasies tend to abound at such institutions. Similarly, the Novus Ordo’s Offertory Rite lands on the side of the Angels but an inch away from the divide, and, not surprisingly, misunderstandings of its nature are legion.

At the same time, I believe that it behooves us who attend a traditional Latin Mass to kindle in our hearts a fuller appreciation of the laity’s role in the Offertory. I personally am tempted to think of this portion of the Mass as an interlude: after I have handed over my donation and perhaps sung a verse or two of a hymn, I tend to zone out until the next priestly prompt. A rather poor showing for a member of “a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation”! (1 Peter 2, 9) Instead, I should be heeding the words of Pope Pius XII:

The conclusion that the people offer the sacrifice with the priest himself… is based on the fact that the people unite their hearts in praise, impetration, expiation and thanksgiving with the prayers or intention of the priest, even of the High Priest himself, so that in the one and same offering of the victim and according to a visible sacerdotal rite, they may be presented to God the Father. [10]

Notes

[1] See the excellent article by Manfred Hauke, “The Offertory as a Challenge to Liturgical Reforms in History,” in The Sacrifice of the Mass, ed. Matthew Hazell (Smenos, 2023).

[2] The Traditional Mass: History, Form, & Theology of the Classical Roman Rite, trans. Rose Pfeifer (Angelico Press, 2020), 257-58.

[3] Acta Synodalia I.2.121-22, cited in Hauke, 146.

[4] James McEvoy and Mette Lebech, “Deus qui humanae substantiae dignitatem: A Latin Liturgical Source Contributing to the Conceptualization History of Human Dignity,” Maynooth Philosophical Papers 10 (2020), 117-33, 123-24.

[5] Ibid., 130-31.

[6] Dennis C. Smolarski, SJ, How Not to Say Mass: A Guidebook on Liturgical Principles and the Roman Missal, Revised Edition (Paulist Press, 2003), 75-76, 77, original emphasis and capitalizations.

[7] Fr. Michael McGuckian, S.J., The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass (Hillenbrand, 2005), 74.

[8] Ibid., 126.

[9] Ibid., 68.

[10] Pius XII, Mediator Dei (1947), 93.

An earlier version of this article appeared as “The Offertory: Preparation of the Gifts or a Sacrifice to God?” in The Latin Mass magazine 34:3 (Fall 2025), pp. 42-46. Many thanks to the editors of TLM for allowing its publication here.

Britain’s Remarkable Monastic History, Told with Admiration, Humor, and Pathos

(This review was first posted at Rorate Caeli but is reprinted here for the benefit of NLM readers, who will also find much that is of liturgical interest in the book under review.)

Britain is full of monastic ghosts. Street names carry them: Monks Lane, Priory Road, Abbey Close. The landscape, too, still bears the imprint of communities that shaped it for a thousand years. The ruins of Fountains, Rievaulx, Tintern, and dozens of lesser houses stand in fields and valleys across England, Wales, and Scotland, drawing visitors who admire their picturesque qualities while knowing almost nothing of the civilization that produced them.

Joseph Kelly, in his new book Long Reign of Silence: A History of Monasticism in Britain (Cruachan Hill Press, 2026), has set out to remedy this ignorance, in what is surely one of the best popular histories of British monasticism ever written.

The scale of what has been lost and forgotten is remarkable. Kelly observes that almost nine hundred religious houses were targeted under Henry VIII between 1536 and 1541, and that their combined population in the thirteenth century numbered some twenty thousand souls in England alone (out of a total population of well under three million). By any measure, British monasticism was a civilization within a civilization, and its disappearance was not simply a matter of institutional change but of a comprehensive cultural rupture.

Kelly argues, convincingly, that the subsequent neglect of monastic history has not been accidental. The powerful new property-owning class of the Reformation whose wealth depended directly on expropriated monastic land had strong reasons to discourage nostalgia, and the cultural legacy of their prejudice is still with us. (We can also sense, against this backdrop, why the Oxford Movement, and even more the revival of monasticism among Anglicans, ignited such fury in the Establishment.)

One of the book’s most interesting segments is its account of how monasticism first took root in Britain. Kelly begins in fourth-century Egypt with Anthony and Pachomius, the desert fathers whose radical withdrawal from the world gave the monastic movement its distinctive character: poverty, common life, manual labor, and ceaseless prayer. That impulse travelled west through Gaul, was received by figures like Ninian and Patrick, and then flowered with extraordinary intensity in Ireland, a land Rome had never touched but whose tribal social structure paradoxically made communal religious life feel native rather than foreign.

The result was a monasticism of vibrant originality, whose hermits and peregrini carried the Gospel across Britain and continental Europe with zeal. Kelly vividly describes beehive huts on Skellig Michael, huddled against the Atlantic, and the monastery-city of Kildare, where the treasures of kings were stored alongside the treasures of God, and readers begin to understand that what was dissolved in the sixteenth century was not a decayed institution but the living continuation of a tradition stretching back to the first Christian centuries.

For the traditional Catholic in particular, this phenomenon matters in a way that goes beyond historical curiosity. The Celtic and Benedictine monks of Britain inhabited a sacramental cosmos wherein prayer was not private therapy but the Church’s essential public work, offered on behalf of the whole of creation—and shaping it in turn. Their monasteries were, as Kelly suggests, the heartbeat of a civilization. When Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries, what ceased was not merely a way of organizing property, but a way of interacting with reality itself. The consequences are well traced by other authors such as Sebastian Morello in his Mysticism, Magic, and Monasteries.

The central chapters of Long Reign of Silence, concerning the Benedictine reform under King Edgar and the three monk-bishops who orchestrated it (Dunstan, Æthelwold, and Oswald), deserve particular attention from readers interested in what authentic Catholic renewal actually looks like, especially when (N.B.) ecclesiastical culture is resistant.

By the early tenth century, monasticism in England had largely collapsed, its communities hollowed out by continuous Viking raids and dominated by married clergy who sang the Office and drew an income while ignoring the Rule. What followed was one of the most complete reversals in ecclesiastical history. The pious King Edgar, supported by his austere Bishop Æthelwold, instituted a thoroughgoing purge, expelling the unworthy and refounding house after house on strict Benedictine lines. The instrument of that reform was the Regularis Concordia, a document Æthelwold produced after convening the kingdom’s leading ecclesiastics at Winchester, mandating in precise detail how every monastery in the realm was to be governed.

Kelly tells this story with a novelist’s instinct for character: Dunstan, brilliant and combative, thrown bodily into the marsh by disgruntled monks and returning years later as their abbot; Æthelwold, who translated the Rule into English for the benefit of laypeople, and whose armed thanes arrived at Winchester to enforce compliance when persuasion failed; Oswald of Worcester, a descendant of Viking invaders who converted and became a champion of the civilization his ancestors had plundered. What makes this episode so interesting is that the reform succeeded not through accommodation to the surrounding culture but through an alignment of sacred and secular authority that is almost inconceivable today—together with a willingness to use “tough love” with gloves off, also quite foreign to our flaccid age.

(A few sample pages)

I’d particularly like to highlight the physical beauty of the book itself, which is a pleasure to hold and to read. The layout is clean and professional, and the more than sixty color illustrations—photographs of ruins, abbey churches, manuscript pages, beehive huts on Skellig Michael, the Book of Kells, and landscapes from Egypt to the Scottish Highlands—are reproduced with a clarity and care that genuinely enhances the text rather than merely decorating it. This is the kind of book you find yourself lingering over, turning back to an image to look again. Cruachan Hill Press and Joseph Kelly have produced a truly beautiful work that every traditional Catholic should own and read.

Long Reign of Silence has real virtues: narrative confidence, historical range, an accessibility that makes it suitable for any educated reader rather than Church history buffs alone. As a Brit from Oxfordshire, Kelly tells the story with a passion for the subject that only an English Catholic could bring. The endnotes are generous and point toward primary sources and scholarly literature with discernment.

Those with an interest in medieval history, in the roots of British culture, or simply in understanding what was lost when the monasteries fell will find much here to reward them. Anyone who has spent time in a functioning Benedictine monastery will recognize the life Kelly is describing, and will feel its absence in the landscape all the more acutely for having read this book. Perhaps, one might dare to hope that some of its readers will be among those whom God is calling to become monks or nuns, to help restore to the West its invisible heart, enclosed in visible walls.

Joseph Kelly’s Long Reign of Silence is available from Amazon. Alternatively, receive a 15% discount by pre-ordering at the Cruachan Hill webstore before the end of June.

Corpus Christi 2026

Transiturus de mundo ad Patrem Jesus, in mortis suae memoriam * instituit sui corporis et sanguinis Sacramentum. V. Corpus in cibum, sanguinem in potum tribuens, Hoc, ait, facite in meam commemorationem. Instituit. Gloria Patri. Instituit. (The twelfth responsory of Matins of Corpus Christi in the Benedictine Breviary.)

Folio 22r of the Hours of René of Anjou, King of Sicily (15th century; Bibliothèque nationale de France. Département des manuscrits.)

V. When He was about to pass from the world to the Father, in memory of His death, Jesus * instituted the Sacrament of His Body and Blood. V. Giving His Body as food, and His Blood as drink, He said, “Do this in memory of me.” He instituted. Glory be. He instituted.

The text of this responsory is taken from the Bull Transiturus of Pope Urban IV (1261-64), by which he ordered the establishment of the feast of Corpus Christi; it is such a beautiful piece of writing that it was commonly read in the Divine Office at Matins of the feast. This custom was changed in the Roman Breviary by the Tridentine reform, but it continued elsewhere, most notably at Liège, where the feast was first celebrated, and where Pope Urban had been archdeacon; also in the Carthusian Breviary.

“When Our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, was about to pass from this world to the Father, as the time of His Passion drew nigh, having taken supper, He instituted unto the memory of His death the most exalted and magnificent Sacrament of His Body and Blood, giving His Body to eat and His Blood to drink. For however so often we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the death of the Lord. In the institution of this saving Sacrament, He said to the Apostles, “Do this in memory of Me”, so that this august and venerable Sacrament might be the special and particular memorial of the exceptional love with which He loved us: this memorial, I say, wondrous and astounding, full of delight, sweet, most secure, and precious above all things, in which signs are renewed and wonders changed, in which is contained every delight and the enjoyment of every savor, and the very sweetness of the Lord is tasted, by which we do indeed obtain the support of our life and salvation. This is the memorial most sweet, most sacred, most holy, profitable unto salvation, by which we recall the grace of our redemption; by which we are drawn away from evil and strengthened in good, and advance to the increase of virtues and graces, by the bodily presence of the Savior.

The Institution of the Holy Eucharist, by Federico Barocci, from the Aldobrandini Chapel of St Maria Sopra Minerva in Rome; 1603-8

Transiturus de mundo ad Patrem Salvator noster Dominus Jesus Christus, cum tempus suae passionis instaret, sumpta coena, in memoriam mortis suae instítuit summum et magnificum sui Corporis et Sanguinis sacramentum: Corpus in cibum, et Sánguinem in poculum tribuendo. Nam quotiescumque hunc panem manducamus, et calicem bibimus, mortem Domini annuntiamus. In institutione quidem hujus salutiferi Sacramenti, dixit ipse Apostolis: Hoc facite in meam commemorationem: ut praecipuum et insigne memoriale sui amoris, quo nos dilexit, esset nobis hoc praecelsum et venerabile Sacramentum, memoriale, inquam, mirabile ac stupendum, delectabile ac suave, tutissimum ac sitibundum, carissimum et super omnia pretiosum. In quo innovata sunt signa, et mirabilia immutata, in quo habetur omne delectamentum, et omnis saporis suavitas, ipsaque dulcedo Domini degustatur; in quo utique vitae suffragium consequimur, et salutis. Hoc est memoriale dulcissimum, memoriale sanctissimum, memoriale salvificum, in quo gratam redemptionis nostrae recensemus memoriam, in quo a malo retrahimur, confortamur in bono, et ad virtutem et gratiarum proficimus incrementa, et in quo profecto reficimur ipsius corporali praesentia.”