The Prayer Unde et memores

Lost in Translation #144

After the prayers of consecration, the priest prays:

Unde et mémores, Dómine, nos servi tui, sed et plebs tua sancta, ejusdem Christi Filii tui, Dómini nostri, tam beátae passiónis, nec non et ab ínferis resurrectiónis, sed et in caelos gloriósae ascensiónis: offérimus praeclárae majestáti tuae de tuis donis ac datis hostiam puram, hostiam sanctam, hostiam immaculátam, Panem sanctum vitae aetérnae, et Cálicem salútis perpetuae.

Which I translate as:

On account of which, O Lord, we Your servants but also Your holy people, also being mindful of the so very blessed Passion of the same Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and certainly His Resurrection from Hell but also His glorious Ascension into Heaven, do offer to Your most splendid Majesty out of Your own presents and gifts a pure Victim, a holy Victim, an unspotted Victim, the holy Bread of eternal life and the Chalice of perpetual salvation.

There is a universal logic operative in this prayer. As Adrian Fortescue explains, “Most liturgies end the words of institution by quoting our Lord’s command to do this in memory of him and all continue with a prayer in the form of an assurance that we do indeed remember him always.” [1] The various rites of the Church therefore follow up the command “Do this in memory (anamnesin) of me” with an Anamnesis or remembrance of the Paschal mystery. Eastern liturgies recall the Passion, Resurrection, and Second Coming of Our Lord, while the West recalls His Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension. To my mind, it makes more sense to commemorate the Ascension at this point, for it is the final stage of the sacrifice that Jesus Christ made on the Cross, the moment when He as High Priest brought His own slain Blood into the inner sanctum of Heaven, presented it to the Father, and secured our eternal redemption. (see Heb. 9, 11-12).

The prayer has the same blend of poetic beauty and legal precision as the rest of the Canon. The “[one and the] same Christ” is called to mind, as opposed to all the other Christs we might have been thinking of. And in referring to the prayers of the Church, the priest mentions her two different classes or groups: “we Your servants” (the clergy) and “Your holy people” (the laity). This ancient distinction, which goes back to St. Clement of Rome (d. 100), was changed by the Second Vatican Council when it instead referred to the entire Church, clergy included, as the people of God. In any event, it is again noteworthy that the laity are identified as co-offerers (albeit not equal offerers) of the Holy Sacrifice.

The language of the Unde et memores is arresting. The opening word unde, which means “from which place” or “whence,” is an excellent adverb to form a bridge between the line, “As often as ye shall do these things, ye shall do them in remembrance of Me,” and an elaboration of what is being remembered. The prayer also has two instances of the curious construction sed et (“but also”) which, as we have seen before, can almost mean “and let us not forget” – a fitting connotation in a prayer on memory.

The second time that sed et is used is as the final conjunction connecting the three events of the Paschal Mystery: the Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension. The verbal heralds of the Passion and Resurrection are also distinctive. Tam, the Latin word for “so” or “so much,” introduces the blessed Passion, as if to say, “the Passion of Your Son, which was so very blessed.” It is rarely, if ever, translated. And instead of proceeding to the Resurrection with a simple et or ac or atque, the prayer uses nec non or “neither not,” a litotes used for emphatic affirmation. Together these words add emotional resonance to what could otherwise be a lifeless laundry list of historical events, and they also seem to imitate the workings of memory itself, as if the events were coming to the priest’s mind the way that connected memories return to one’s consciousness. “Your Passion was so very blessed… and now that I think about it, Your Resurrection certainly was as well. But I should not forget your glorious Ascension.”

The articulation of these mysteries also involves a contrast of locations. Although it is common to translate ab inferis resurrectio as “Resurrection from the dead,” inferi refers to the netherworld; it is the same word used in the Apostles’ Creed to denote Christ’s descent into Hell or the Limbo of the Fathers. In this prayer, Christ in Limbo is juxtaposed with His ascent into Heaven, as if to highlight the enormous cosmic distance that He journeyed between Easter Sunday and Ascension Thursday, from the bottom to the summit of the mountain.

In the phrase offerimus praeclarae majestati tuae de tuis donis ac datis (“we offer to Your most splendid Majesty out of Your own presents and gifts”), it may seem redundant to use two words where one would suffice, which may explain why the 2011 ICEL translation renders it “from the gifts that you have given us.” [2] But the double dona et data anticipates and parallels the double Host and Chalice that concludes the sentence. As for the sentiment itself, that when we give to God we are simply returning what He has given to us, it is also expressed beautifully in the Byzantine Rite’s prayer: “We offer you, your own, from your own, always and everywhere.” Finally, praeclarus or “splendid,” used here to modify God’s majesty, is the word used in the consecration of the wine to describe the chalice. Peter Kwasniewski interprets this repetition to mean that

what is about to be within this chalice is at one with, and worthy of, the One to whom it is raised up. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass collapses the distance between Creator and creation while emphatically affirming the infinite abyss bridged by Christ alone, in His very Person. [3]

The Unde et memores concludes by progressing from the metaphysically precise to the biblically poetic. What was once bread and wine are now the holy Victim that is Jesus Christ. But after the triple affirmation of the Host and Precious Blood as living Victim, the priest calls the former the Bread of eternal life (see Ps. 77, 25 and Wisdom 16, 20) and the latter the Chalice of perpetual salvation. (see Ps. 115, 4) There is also a pleasing variation in the diction: “life” and “salvation,” “eternal” and “perpetual.” And the pairing of the Host with bread and the Chalice with salvation is fitting, for as we have already noted, the Host connotes spiritual nourishment (which the Bible sometimes signifies with the word “bread”) while the Precious Blood connotes our absolution and redemption (“salvation”). Moreover, the phrase “Chalice of perpetual salvation” subtly affirms that the prayers of the Offertory have been answered as well as anticipates the priest’s reception of the Precious Blood.

Signs of the Cross

That both the Host and the Chalice constitute the Holy Victim is reinforced by the priest’s actions. Each of the three times that he mentions the Victim, he makes the sign of the cross over both species; but when he mentions the Bread of life, he signs only the Host, and when he mentions the Chalice of salvation, he signs only the Precious Blood. These signs of the cross, incidentally, “have ever been regarded,” in Nicholas Gihr’s words, as difficult to explain. [4]. Indeed, when the Fathers at Vatican II debated the meaning of “useless repetitions” in the Mass in the document Sacrosanctum Concilium, the first thing that came to their mind were the signs of the cross in the Canon. [5]

St. Thomas Aquinas and others have little difficulty in offering an allegorical interpretation of these signs of the cross, correlating them with things that happened during the Passion. The five signs of the cross that are made during the Unde et memores, for example, signify the five Holy Wounds. [6] As valid as these interpretations are, the literal meaning of these signs still remains obscure. Gihr rightly notes that the sign of the cross has a wide variety of meanings, and he has no difficulty identifying the meaning of the signs of the cross made over the gifts before the Consecration as that of a blessing. But, he continues,

Evidently this object cannot be ascribed to the sign of the Cross after the Elevation: there are no longer present on the altar material elements susceptible of or in need of blessing, but Christ's Body and Blood under the appearances of bread and wine. Jesus Christ, the source of all blessings and the Holy of Holies, can and may not be blessed by the priest. Therefore, all admit that the signs of the Cross made over the oblation after the Consecration can in nowise have the signification and power of effective signs of blessing for Christ who is present, for His Body and Blood. [7]

Gihr is, of course, correct if one holds to a narrow definition of blessing as a conferral of divine favor. But Holy Church also ends several of her ceremonies with the admonition Benedicamus Domino, “Let us bless the Lord,” and it is foolhardy to think that we can confer divine favor upon the Divine. The solution to this apparent contradiction is to meditate on the etymology of a blessing in Greek and Latin, for both the Greek eulogeo and the Latin benedico literally mean to “speak well.” Now when God speaks well of one of His creatures, as He did when He made heaven and earth, the creature is objectively improved, for God’s word is all-powerful. [see Gen 1] And when one of his ordained priests speaks well of something, he does so, according to the classical distinction, in an invocative way or a constitutive way. An invocative blessing expresses a wish that God may or may not grant, e.g. long life, good health, protection from evil, etc.; a constitutive blessing, like the dedication of a church, successfully consecrates or imparts a sacred character on the thing or person blessed. Finally, when a layman speaks well of his food or his family, as he has a right to do, his blessing is generally invocative—even though I do believe that there is an objective difference between blessed and unblessed food.

But when, on the other hand, a human being “blesses” or speaks well of God, God is not improved or enlarged in the slightest. If anyone is changed, it is the speaker, for the very act of sincerely blessing God improves the heart of the one blessing—hence the frequent commands in the Sacred Scriptures and sacred liturgy to bless or praise the Lord.

I therefore contend that while the signs of the cross before the Consecration are a constitutive blessing that consecrate the objects blessed, the signs of the cross after the Consecration are the “saying well only” blessing that bless the subject (the priest), deepening his devotion and increasing his love of the Living and Holy Victim that he has just helped bring about onto the altar.

Notes

[1] Fortescue, 345.

[2] 2011 Roman Missal, p. 641.

[3] The Once and Future Roman Rite, 240-41.

[4] Gihr, 653.

[5] Cardo, 145-49.

[6] St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae III.83.5.ad 3.

[7] Gihr, 654.

The Office of the Dead in the Dominican Liturgy: Lecture by Fr. Innocent Smith OP, Nov. 8

The 4th Season of the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music’s Public Lecture and Concerts Series continues with:

The Office of the Dead in the Dominican Liturgy

Lecture by Fr Innocent Smith

Date: Saturday, November 8th

Time: 10 a.m. Pacific (1 p.m. Eastern)

Location: Online via Zoom

Tickets: Free, or suggested donation of $20

RSVP here.

From the time of their foundation in the 13th century, Dominican friars have been committed to praying for the dead, commemorating deceased friars and sisters, parents, friends, and benefactors in annual, weekly, and daily cycles of prayers. When forming their rite in the mid-13th century, the Order of Preachers fashioned a particular version of the Office of the Dead that arranged traditional chants and prayers in a distinctive order. In this presentation, we will explore the texts and chants of the Dominican Office of the Dead, considering the relationship of these texts to the Church’s broader liturgical tradition.

Space in the online event is limited; an RSVP is required.

About the Lecturer

Fr Innocent Smith, O.P., is Assistant Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame. After undergraduate studies in music and philosophy at Notre Dame, he entered the Order of Preachers in 2008 and was ordained priest in 2015. Smith served in parish ministry for several years before completing a doctorate in liturgical studies at the University of Regensburg in 2021. His teaching and research interests include liturgical history, codicology, and sacred music.

Smith’s 2023 monograph, Bible Missals and the Medieval Dominican Liturgy, focuses on medieval bibles which contain liturgical texts for the celebration of the Mass. The liturgical selections contained in bible missals give precious insight into both the development of the celebration of the liturgy as well as the processes of customization and design of medieval bibles. Bible missals present a fascinating example of the interpenetration of memory and enactment, enabling the celebration of the mysteries articulated in the biblical text.

About the Series

The Public Lecture & Concert Series of the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music welcomes the general public to St. Patrick’s Seminary to hear from preeminent scholars about topics which have a profound impact on the Church and humanity, inviting them especially to consider the Church’s wisdom on matters related to the worship of God, the spiritual life, beauty, and works of art.

We invite you to join us for these important and inspiring events.

About the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music

Founded in 2022, the mission of the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music is to draw souls to Jesus Christ through the beauty of sacred music and the liturgy.

The Institute offers a substantial program of accredited, graduate-level coursework and, beginning in the summer session of 2026 pending WSCUC approval, a Masters of Sacred Music and Post-baccalaureate certificates in Gregorian Chant and Sacred Choral Music. All of the Institute’s coursework and public outreach are designed to help church musicians and clergy better to know and love the Church’s treasury of sacred music and her teachings on sacred music. Our goal is to equip students with the theological, philosophical, and historical knowledge, as well as the practical skills (singing, playing, conducting, composing, organizing, fundraising) necessary to build excellent sacred music programs in parishes and schools. We aim to help others revitalize the faith of Catholics and instill vitality in parish and school life through a vibrant sacred music program.

We are committed to a faithful and generous service of the Church. We cultivate fidelity, resiliency, a healthy sense of creativity, and selflessness within our student body and faculty as characteristics of our service as we labor together in the vineyard of the Lord to bring in a rich harvest.

The Abbey and Library of San Gall in Switzerland

Today is the feast of St Gall (‘Gallus’ in Latin, ‘Gallen’ in German), a disciple of the great monastic founder of the later 6th and early 7th century, St Columban. He was born in Ireland, educated under Columban at the abbey of Bangor, and accompanied his teacher to the continent, where he assisted him in the founding of the important abbeys at Annegray and Luxeuil. From there, they made their way to the area around the Swiss lakes of Zurich and Constance; when Columban went to Italy, Gall remained behind, and having preached and gathered a group of disciples who lived under Columban’s rule, died sometime around 645 AD.

A stained-glass window with a picture of St Gall, from one of the corridors of the abbey library, 1566. He is often depicted in the company of a bear, in reference to a legend that when he had come to Switzerland, in the area where the abbey stands now, as he was warming himself at a fire, he was charged at by a bear. The Saint rebuked the animal, which then went into the forest and brought back some wood for the fire, then became his pet for the rest of its days. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Martin Thurnherr, CC BY-SA 4.0.)

The great Swiss abbey of San Gallen is named after him, since it was built over the site traditionally said to be that of his hermitage, about 70 years after his death. This abbey is the home of one of the most important libraries in the world; among other things, it houses several of the oldest manuscripts of Gregorian chant. Much of the collection is now free to consult via the website https://www.e-codices.unifr.ch/en, which also includes links to the digital collections of numerous other Swiss libraries. Here are pictures of the abbey church and library taken by our Ambrosian expert Nicola de’ Grandi on a recent visit; there will be a follow-up post with some of the books on permanent display in the library.

The church as we see it today is the result of a rebuilding project begun in 1755 by the Prince-Abbot Cölestin Gugger von Staudach, and was completed in 1767. The same architect designed both the church and the library.

The frescos in the ceilings of both building were done by an artist named Josef Wannenmacher, and are framed by very complicated rococo stucco work. (I vaguely recall hearing during a visit to Switzerland many years ago that the formula for the pigments which makes some parts of the stucco green is now lost.)

Continue Reading this Article. . .

The Proper Hymns of St Theresa of Avila

St Theresa of Avila, whose feast we keep today, the anniversary of her death in 1582, was canonized on March 12, 1622, alongside Ss Philip Neri, Ignatius of Loyola, Francis Xavier and a fourth Spaniard, Isidore the Farmer. The Pope who celebrated this grand triumph of the Counter-Reformation, Gregory XV, died a bit less than 16 months later, and was succeeded by Cardinal Maffeo Barberini, who took the name Urban VIII, and is well known in the liturgical field for the classicizing reform of the breviary hymns which he enacted. This reform was the occasion for a famous barb, “Accessit latinitas, recessit pietas. – Latinity came in, piety went out”, but Pope Urban’s own original compositions are generally well-regarded, among them, the two hymns which he wrote for St Theresa, Regis superni nuntia, which is said at Vespers and Matins, and Haec est dies, qua candidae. The translation of the former is by Fr Edward Caswall O.C.

Regis superni nuntia, Domum paternam deseris, Terris Teresa barbaris Christum datura, aut sanguinem.	Blest messenger of Heaven! thou didst Thy home in childhood leave; Intending to barbaric lands Christ or thy blood to give.
Sed te manet suavior Mors, pœna poscit dulcior Divini amoris cuspide In vulnus icta concides.	But thee a sweeter death awaits; A nobler fate is thine; Pierc’d with a thousand heavenly darts, To die of love divine..
O caritatis victima! Tu corda nostra concrema, Tibique gentes creditas Averni ab igne libera.	Victim of perfect charity! Our souls with love inspire; And save the nations of thy charge From everlasting fire.
Sit laus Patri cum Filio Et Spiritu Paraclito, Tibique sancta Trinitas, Nunc, et per omne sæculum.    Amen.	Praise to the Father, with the Son, And Holy Spirit, be; Praise to the blessed Three in One, Through all eternity. Amen.

The Czech composer František Tůma (1704-74) made a motet out of the the first and last stanzas. As with many such compositions, it was likely used not just as a motet, but for the actual celebration of Vespers, during which the clergy would “double” the full text in a low voice, according to a very decadent practice sadly common in the era.

There does not appear to be any recording of the Lauds hymn available. (Translation by D.J. Donahoe)

Hæc est dies, qua candidæ Instar columbæ, cælitum Ad sacra templa spiritus Se transtulit Teresiæ.	Behold the blessed morning, When, like a snow-white dove, Thy soul arose, Theresa, To join the choirs above.
Sponsique voces audiit: Veni soror de vertice Carmeli ad Agni nuptias: Veni ad coronam gloriæ.	The Bridegroom calls: “From Carmel Come, sister, unto me, Partake the Lamb’s high nuptials; Thy crown awaiteth thee.”
Te sponse, Iesu, virginum Beati adorent ordines, Et nuptiali cantico Laudent per omne sæculum. Amen.	O Jesus, tender Bridegroom By holy virgin throngs Be evermore surrounded, Be praised in endless songs. Amen.

A New Short Film about Clear Creek Abbey

Recently, a film crew journeyed to Clear Creek Abbey in Hulbert, Oklahoma, to capture a glimpse of the Benedictine way of life. This stop was part of a longer adventure that took the crew across Europe, tracing the rich and beautiful Benedictine heritage that the monks at Clear Creek do their best to steward on the Oklahoma plains. The resulting footage, a short film called The Fire of Faith, is very good, a reminder of the role that Benedictine monasticism has played throughout history, and the vital work to which it is being called today.

For their part, the monastic community at Clear Creek is asking for prayers as they begin work to complete their abbey, including the final construction of their church. Their ranks have grown considerably since its founding, from 13 to 72 monks in just the last two decades, and they discern about 100 inquiries each year. The monks have asked people to consider formally enrolling them in their prayer intentions at this website, https://future.clearcreekmonks.org/, and of course, promise to pray for those who do so in their turn.

We are glad to share these photos of daily life at the monastery in all of its various aspects.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Pictures from Mt Athos (Part 4): The Skete of St Andrew

Here is another group of pictures graciously shared by a friend who recently visited Mt Athos, this time from a monastery called the Skete of St Andrew, about a kilometer from the administrative center at Karyes, in the center of the peninsula. “Skete” is a Greek word of uncertain origin which means a monastery which is dependent on another; there are twelve such on Athos. That of St Andrew is actually the largest monastery on the peninsula, but it is not part of the hierarchy of twenty major monasteries, which includes only the ancient ones founded in the Byzantine period.

It was originally a small house dedicated to St Anthony the Abbot, founded in the 15th century after the fall of Constantinople, dependent on the Vatopedion monastery, then rebuilt in the mid-18th century and jointly dedicated to St Andrew. In 1841, Vatopedion gave it to Russian monks; under the patronage of Tsar Nicholas I, it was massively rebuilt, and the community grew to over 700. In the early 20th century, it became the center of a very peculiar heresy founded by one of its monks, known as the Imiaslavie doctrine, the belief that the name of God is God Himself. After this heresy was condemned by the Russian Orthodox Church, the community was violently dispersed by the Russian Imperial Navy; four monks were killed, and many others injured. After a long period of decline and abandonment, it was repopulated by Greeks at the beginning of this century. The monastery possesses the relic of the skull of St Andrew which was returned to the Orthodox Church from the Vatican in 1966. 

The entrance to the monastic complex.

Frescos of the titular Saint, Andrew the Apostle, known as the First-Called in the Byzantine tradition...

and another of St Anthony the Abbot, called Anthony the Great in the East, the original titular Saint.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Edward the Confessor and John the Evangelist

St Edward the Confessor, king of England, died on January 5, 1066, after a reign of over 23 years. He is called “the Confessor” to distinguish him from King Edward the Martyr (died 978), another Saint who was very popular in pre-Reformation England. He is the last monarch of England honored as a Saint; Henry VI (1422-71) was the subject of a strong popular devotion, with many miracles attributed to him, but his cause for canonization was broken off at the Reformation, and subsequent attempts to revive it have failed. (This was a favorite subject of the great Mons. Ronald Knox.) The numeration of the English monarchs begins with the Norman Conquest, which took place shortly after, and largely because of, Edward’s death, and therefore neither he nor the Martyr is included in it. (Edward I reigned in the later 13th and early 14th centuries.)

Ss Edmund the Martyr (a 9th century King of East Anglia, also very popular before the Reformation), Edward the Confessor and John the Baptist present King Richard II to the Virgin and Child (The Wilton Diptych, 1395.) TheConfessor holds a ring in his hand, in reference to the story recounted below.

He was canonized in 1161 by Pope Alexander III, who had a remarkably long reign (one week shy of 22 years), and lived to canonize another very important Englishman, St Thomas Becket. Since he died on the vigil of the Epiphany, which was considered far too important to displace, his feast was assigned to October 13, the day on which St Thomas himself translated his relics from their original place in Westminster Abbey to a shrine in the choir. (It is also the anniversary of the abbey’s rededication in 1269, after the rebuilding begun by Henry III in 1245, and of the coronation of Henry IV in 1399.) They were later moved to a different shrine within the abbey behind the altar, where they remain to this day, one of two such shrines in all of England not destroyed by the impiety of Henry VIII and his successors. (The other is of a Saint called Wite of whom nothing is known.) In 1689, the year after the last Catholic monarch of England was dethroned, Bl. Pope Innocent XI extended his feast to the general calendar.

A Catholic Requiem Mass celebrated at the shrine of St Edward in Westminster Abbey in 2013 (from an NLM post by Charles Cole.)

The Sarum Breviary tells a charming story of St Edward and his devotion to St John the Evangelist. While attending the consecration of a church, Edward was approached by an elderly man who asked him for alms in the name of God and of St John. The royal almoner was not present, and having nothing else on him, Edward gave him his ring. Many years later, two English pilgrims in Jerusalem met an elderly man who, on learning where they were from, said to them, “I ask you brothers, return to your king, and give him the message which I shall send by you. I am John, the Apostle and Evangelist, and I love the holy king Edward for his chastity, for I know him to be near to God.” He then explained to them how he received the ring from Edward, “which I have kept unto this day for love and reverence for the man of God; I now send it back to him with glory, and within a short time, shall render even more pleasing gifts. For within half a year’s time, he will be clothed as I am in the robe of immortality…”

The pilgrims, cleverly described in the breviary as “apostolic legates”, returned to the king, delivering both the message and the ring. And indeed, St Edward took ill on Christmas night of that year, and by Childermas, was too sick to attend the consecration ceremony of the abbey of St Peter, which he himself had founded and built. The original Romanesque building was replaced by the famous Gothic church now known as Westminster Abbey in the mid-13th century. The only surviving representation of the original church is in the section of the Bayeux Tapestry which shows the body of King Edward being brought into it for burial.

“Here the body of King Edward is brought to the church of St Peter the Apostle.”

The Maternity of the Virgin Mary

The traditional observance of October as the month of the Holy Rosary begins, of course, with the Battle of Lepanto in 1571, and the institution of the feast of the Holy Rosary, also called the feast of Our Lady of Victory. Two years later, at the request of the Dominican Order, Pope Gregory XIII (1572-85) granted the feast to all churches which had an altar of the Rosary. After another important victory against the Ottoman Turks, the Battle of Peterwardein in 1716, Clement XI (1700-21) extended the feast to the entire Roman Rite. In accordance with the common custom of the time, it was originally fixed to the first Sunday of October, regardless of the date; partly because the victory at Lepanto was on the first Sunday of October, partly because, with the continual reduction of the number of holy days of obligation, feasts were often fixed to Sunday so that they might be kept with greater solemnity by the people. The custom of permanently fixing feasts to particular Sundays was abolished by Pope St Pius X as part of the breviary reform of 1911, and the feast of the Holy Rosary then assigned to the calendar date of Lepanto, October 7.

The Battle of Lepanto, by an unknown artist, late 16th century, now in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England.

Once October had been thus established as a Marian month, two other feasts were then created for the second and third Sundays of October, called the feasts of the Maternity and of the Purity of the Virgin Mary. Of these two, the former gradually grew in popularity, to the point where the 1911 edition of the Catholic Encyclopedia says, “At present the feast is not found in the universal calendar of the Church, but nearly all diocesan calendars have adopted it.” The latter was at least popular enough to be routinely found in the appendix “for certain places” of most editions of the Roman Missal and Breviary printed in the later 19th and early 20th centuries.

In 1931, Pope Pius XI extended the feast of the Virgin’s Maternity to the universal calendar, assigning it to October 11th, which was then the first free day of the month. A breviary lesson was added to the feast, which explains that the Pope intended it to serve as a liturgical commemoration of the 15th centenary of the Ecumenical Council of Ephesus. The third Ecumenical council was held in that city in 431 to refute the heresy of Nestorius, Patriarch of Constantinople, by which he rejected the liturgical use of the title “Mother of God” for the Virgin Mary. Shortly thereafter, Pope Sixtus III (432-40) built the basilica of Saint Mary Major in Rome, the oldest church in the world dedicated to the Mother of God, which still preserves a famous mosaic with episodes of Her life on the arch over the altar. Pope Pius XI also notes in this lesson that he had arranged for extensive restorations of the basilica, “a noble monument of the proclamation of Ephesus,” and particularly of the mosaic.

The upper left section of the mosaic on the triumphal arch of Saint Mary Major, with the Annunciation above and the Adoration of the Magi below. To the right of the Annunciation, the angel comes to reassure St Joseph. In the Adoration of the Magi, Christ is shown as a young child, but not as an infant, since the Gospel of St Matthew does not say how long after the Birth of Christ the Magi came to Him.

October 11 was then set by Pope St John XXIII as the opening day of the Second Vatican Council in 1962. Pope John had a great devotion to Pope Pius IX, who was not yet a Blessed in his time, and whom he very much wished to canonize. Pius IX had proclaimed the dogmatic definition of the Immaculate Conception in 1854, and fifteen years later, set the feast of the Immaculate Conception as the day for the opening of Vatican I. As Bl. Pius had placed his council under the protection of the Mother of God by opening it on one of her feast days, so did St John, the feast in question being also a commemoration of yet another ecumenical Council, and one especially associated with the Church’s devotion to the Virgin.

The crest of Pope St John XXIII, in the atrium of St Peter’s Basilica; the opening date of Vatican II is written beneath it, without reference to the feast of the Maternity of the Virgin Mary.

In the post-Conciliar liturgical reform, the feast of the Maternity of the Virgin Mary was suppressed, on the grounds that the newly-created Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, on January 1st made it superfluous, another fine example of the law of unintended consequences. The offical account of the changes made to the calendar, published by the Vatican Polyglot Press in 1969, explains this new feast in reference to the “Synaxis of the Mother of God” which the Byzantine Rite keeps on December 26th.

But in point of the fact, the latter observance arises from a particular Byzantine custom, by which several major feasts are followed by the commemoration of a sacred person who figures prominently in the feast, but who is, so to speak, overshadowed by another. These are usually, but not invariably, called “σύναξις (synaxis)” in Greek, “собóръ (sobor)” in Church Slavonic; that of St John the Baptist is kept on January 7th, the day after the Baptism of the Lord, that of St Gabriel the day after the Annunciation, that of the Twelve Apostles after Ss Peter and Paul, and that of Ss Joachim and Anne, the Virgin’s parents, on the day after Her Nativity. These are not the principal feasts of the persons honored by these “synaxes”, and one also finds in the Byzantine Calendar the feasts of St John on June 24 and August 29, of St Gabriel on June 11, the Apostles each on their own day (rarely the same as in the Roman Rite), and St Anne on July 26.

September 9th is also kept by the Byzantines as the commemoration of the “Fathers of the Third Ecumenical Council at Ephesus”; a most appropriate choice, since the liturgical New Year of the Byzantine Rite is on September 1st, and the Nativity of the Virgin is therefore the first Marian feast of the year. And indeed, the Maternity of the Virgin Mary would be better described, despite its title, as a Roman version of this Byzantine feast of the Fathers at Ephesus. The Byzantine Rite also has similar commemorations of the Fathers of the other ecumenical councils, as well as a joint commemoration of those of the first six, and another of Second Nicea.

An icon of the “Synod of the Holy Fathers”, in which the Emperor Constantine holds a scroll with the opening words of the Nicene Creed in Greek.

Pope St John XXIII died on June 3, 1963, a day which at the time had no feast on the General Calendar, but in the Novus Ordo was made the feast of the Ugandan Martyrs canonized in 1964. Despite the oft-stated modern preference for keeping Saints’ feasts on the anniversary of their death, or as near to it as possible, his feast day was assigned at the time of his beatification, for those places which kept it, to the anniversary of the opening of Vatican II. His feast and that of St John Paul II were extended to the general calendar as optional memorials in 2014; the latter is assigned to October 22, the day of his inauguration as Pope in 1978, since the day of his death, April 2, is very often impeded by Holy Week or Easter week.

The Second Oldest Altarpiece of St Francis of Assisi

Last week, for the feast of St Francis of Assisi, I posted about the oldest known altarpiece of him, the work of an artist named Bonventura Berlinghieri, which is dated to 1235, only seven years after Francis’ canonization. As a follow-up, here is the second oldest such work, known as the Bardi altarpiece or panel, after the chapel where it has been kept since 1595 within the Franciscan order’s church in Florence, the basilica of the Holy Cross. For a long time, the artist’s name was unknown, and he was simply called the Master of the Bardi St Francis. It is now generally accepted as the work of a Florentine painter called Coppo di Marcovaldo, who lived from roughly 1225-76; about 10 other works of his survive, almost all in various parts of Tuscany, but only three are attributed to him with absolute certainty. The painting is dated to around 1245-50; if the attribution to Coppo is correct, that would mean he made it when he was about 20-25 years old. (All images from Wikimedia Commons by Francesco Bini, CC BY-SA 4.0.)

The Bardi panel is very similar in form to Berlinghieri’s, but much more elaborate, with 20 stories from the Saint’s life, where the other has only six. Some of these stories are taken from Thomas of Celano’s biography, the first, written in 1228-9, very shortly after the canonization, and do not appear in the version by St Bonaventure which officially replaced it in 1266. The Saint appears in the middle, wearing the Franciscan habit, showing the stigmata as he gives a blessing, and holding a book. The border around him is populated with Franciscan friars. The inscription above his head reads, “Hunc exaudite perhibentem dogmata vitae. - Listen to this man who offers the teachings of life.” Although the body of St Francis is still artificially elongated in the manner of the Byzantine iconographic style which prevailed in Italy at the time, the proportions of the head, hands and feet are much better rendered than in Berlinghieri’s work.

The Bardi panel is similar in form to Berlinghieri’s, but more elaborate, with 20 stories from the Saint’s life, where the other has only six. Some of these are taken from Thomas of Celano’s biography, the first, written in 1228-9, very shortly after the canonization, and do not appear in the version by St Bonaventure which officially replaced it in 1266. They run counterclockwise from the upper left side. Here we see St Francis delivered from prison after being captured during a battle between Assisi and its perennial rival, nearby Perugia, and his renunciation of all his worldly possessions in the presence of his parents and of the bishop of Assisi.

Francis designs the habit of his followers (not yet an order in the proper sense) in the presence of the bishop of Assisi, and hears the words from the reading of the Gospel which will inspire the Franciscan rule and way of life. At the lower right, he removes his shoes as a symbol of his embrace of poverty.

Francis and his followers receive approval of the Rule from Pope Innocent III, and he makes the first Christmas creche.

Preaching to the birds, and to the Saracens in the presence of the Sultan.

Francis rescues a lamb which is grazing among goats, and exchanges his habit to rescue two lambs that are being taken to slaughter.

Francis receives the stigmata, and does public penance for improperly breaking a fast.

Francis teaches the lepers, holding one on his knee and washing the feet of another; he appears to Brother Monaldo during a general chapter of the order held at Arles in southern France, while St. Anthony is preaching.

The remaining panels (those on the right side) are to be read upwards from the bottom. During his funeral, as his soul ascends to heaven, Francis heals a girl with a twisted neck and several demoniacs.

Pope Gregory IX canonizes him; he prevents the wreck of a ship sailing out of Ancona on the Adriatic coast of Italy.

Pilgrims bring offerings of candles to his tomb; he heals a man suffering from gout.

A Review of Close the Workshop

As readers of New Liturgical Movement may know, the prolific Dr. Peter Kwasniewski completed his trilogy on the Roman liturgy earlier this year.

In The Once and Future Roman Rite: Returning to the Traditional Latin Liturgy after Seventy Years of Exile (2022), Kwasniewski argues—in direct opposition to the claims of Pope Francis’ 2021 Traditionis Custodes—that the Tridentine Rite is the authentic Roman Rite and that the Novus Ordo does not meet the essential criteria of a traditional liturgy.

In Bound by Truth: Authority, Obedience, Tradition, and the Common Good (2023), Kwasniewski contends that every Latin-rite priest has the right and indeed the duty to offer the traditional liturgy, and that no pope or bishop has the authority to take that right away (though some may abuse their power by attempting to do so).

And now, in Close the Workshop: Why the Old Mass Isn’t Broken and the New Mass Can’t Be Fixed, Kwasniewski puts forth, as the subtitle boldly says, that the old rite is not broken and that the new rite cannot be fixed. In the author’s words:

The Mass of Paul VI is so deeply flawed that it cannot be repaired from within, whether by copious helpings of smells and bells, by arbitrary attempts at traditionalizing, or by an official “reform of the reform”; and the Roman Mass inherited from the Age of Faith did not (and does not) need to be “reformed” along antiquarian or pastoral-utilitarian lines, as it fulfills the highest act of religion in a fitting manner perfected over many centuries of prayerful practice. The liturgical revolution, driven by ideology, culminated in balkanization, banality, and boredom; its fabrications must be retired from use, and the traditional rite must be restored to its rightful place of honor in the Church of the Latin rite.

The volume begins with a Foreword by Fr. Thomas Kocik. Once a doyen of the “Reform of the Reform” movement, Kocik surprised the Catholic world in 2014 by concluding that the reformed liturgy is irreformable. In his fascinating testimony, he lists some of the reasons why. First, he realized that his efforts to celebrate the Novus Ordo reverently belied the greater issue about the content of the Novus Ordo, namely, its missing or problematic parts. And second, a return to the Second Vatican Council’s Sacrosanctum Concilium was not sufficient since the document itself is rife with ambiguities, time bombs, and contradictions.

Close the Workshop echoes these sentiments and more. The book is divided into two parts. Part I, “Detours to a Dead End,” offers a critique of Sacrosanctum Concilium and of the 1970 Roman Missal. The Council’s document on the liturgy comes under scrutiny for including “time bombs” that would later be detonated by their architect, Annibale Bugnini, and for its modern, deconstructive, bureaucratic attitude towards immemorial sacred liturgy. That attitude would come to full fruition under Bugnini’s deft leadership, who instituted several dozen isolated liturgical workshops which, working in great haste, invented new components for the new liturgy. Bugnini then assembled the parts like a Model T on the assembly line, thereby creating a “modular liturgy” or a “Frankenmass” that came to life thanks only to the breath of papal fiat.

It may sound like a rhetorical potshot to refer to a sacred rite promulgated by Holy Mother Church as a “workshop” (which Kwasniewski does in the title of his book and in several chapters), but the author is only quoting some of the proponents of this brave new liturgical world, who see the Novus Ordo as merely the first stage of an ongoing revolution. Leading figures who view the liturgy not as a sacred gift to be treasured but as a protean artifact in a workshop to be experimented upon include Bugnini, his ally Joseph Gélineau, the influential liturgist Dom Anscar Chupungco, and Francis apologist Andrea Grillo, who called for the liturgy to become “a great construction site.”

Kwasniewski also does not spare the autocratic behavior of Pope Francis and the underhanded way in which he promulgated Traditionis Custodes, for as the journalist Diane Montagna discovered, the document was written as a response to the bishops’ opinion before the bishops were even polled about their opinions (who, incidentally, were largely in favor of keeping the status quo of Pope Benedict XVI’s Summorum Pontificum). Kwasniewski also calls out “the outrageous propaganda of Cardinal Roche and company,” which includes the contributors to websites like Pray Tell and Where Peter Is.

Part II, which is entitled “Did—Does—the Old Mass Need to Be ‘Reformed’?,” affirms the teaching of the Council of Trent that there is “nothing superfluous” and nothing defective about the traditional Roman liturgy. Kwasniewski defends, among other things, the fewer options of the Tridentine Missal, the proclamation of biblical readings in Latin and the traditional “lectionary,” the pre-1955 Good Friday prayer for the Jews, the rich array of Saints mentioned in the Mass, the thick and more extensive rubrics, and the compatibility between traditional liturgy and allegorical interpretation. Likewise, he is critical of both the 1965 and 1962 editions of the Roman Missal and calls for a return to the rites of Holy Week before they were revised in 1955.

Not a blind cheerleader, Kwasniewski also offers advice about the proper celebration of the usus antiquior. Chapters 21 through 23 give guidance as to the use of Gregorian chant, ways to improve the Low Mass, and whether the postures of the laity should be regulated, legislated, or revised. Kwasniewski prudently lands on the Augustinian aphorism: In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas—in necessary matters, unity; in doubtful matter, liberty; in everything, charity.

As with several other of Kwasniewski’s monographs, Close the Workshop is not written for a universal audience. Readers who think that the Pope is always right will probably need to brush up on more rudimentary introductions to ecclesiology before they can profit from this volume; otherwise, they will be scandalized by Kwasniewski’s candid critique of the papacy and the post-conciliar Magisterium. But readers who are already sympathetic to liturgical tradition and who desire more information and better arguments to help them formulate their own thoughts will find Close the Workshop an eloquent and well-researched aid in their quest.

That said, there is one chapter in particular that I would recommend to one’s friends who are still sitting on the fence. “Sacrifice and Desacrificialization” (chapter 9) offers a succinct contrast between the two rites vis-à-vis the one theme that matters: the Mass as a true and living sacrifice. Kwasniewski examines the elements of the usus antiquior that were abandoned after the Council—the ad orientem stance, the Prayers at the Foot of the Altar, the prayers that expressed a separation of the priest from the people, the many kissings of the altar, the Offertory Rite and Roman Canon, the genuflections immediately after the consecrations, the priest’s ablutions and communion, the Last Gospel, and the placement of the Tabernacle; and he concludes, citing Chad Pecknold, that there is a subtle “counter-catechesis” at work in the new rite that accounts for the dwindling number of Catholics who believe in the Church’s teaching about the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist.

It is my hope—and no doubt Dr. Kwasniewski’s—that a juxtaposition such as this will be a twitch upon the thread that tugs more Catholics back to their patrimony now under fire.

Peter Kwasniewski and Michael Foley

This review originally appeared in The Latin Mass magazine 34:2 (Summer 2025), pp. 70-71. Many thanks to its editors for permitting its inclusion here.