“Now About the Midst of the Feast” - Christ the Teacher in the Liturgy of Lent

Today’s Gospel in the Roman Rite, John 7, 14-31, begins with the words “Now about the midst of the feast,”, referring to the feast of tabernacles, which St John had previously mentioned in verse 2 of the same chapter. And indeed, the whole of this chapter is set within the context of this feast.

The Expulsion of the Money-Changers from the Temple, the Gospel of yesterday’s Mass, John 2, 13-25; part of the St Wolfgang Altarpiece by the Tyrolean painter Michael Pacher (1435 ca. - 1498), made in 1471-79. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Uoaei1, CC BY-SA 4.0.)

In the Byzantine Rite, this same Gospel, minus the last verse, is read on the very ancient feast of Mid-Pentecost, exactly half-way between Easter and Pentecost, a custom which was formerly also found in the Ambrosian Rite. In the Mozarabic Rite (which is an outlier among liturgies in many ways), the opening words seem to have been taken instead to mean something like, “When the feast was half-way arrived,” meaning the feast of Easter. The same Gospel is therefore read on the 4th Sunday of Lent, and the words “Mediante die festo” are used as that Sunday’s nickname, as Romans say, “Laetare Sunday.” The Roman Rite, on the other hand, seems to have ignored the timing given by the Evangelist as a detail of no particular importance, and places this Gospel on a day that isn’t halfway between anything noteworthy.

The beginning of the Mass of the Fourth Sunday of Lent in a Mozarabic Missal printed in 1804, with the subtitle, ‘Mediante die festo.’

Much of the text is taken up with a dispute over Our Lord’s authority to teach, since He “had not studied”, which is to say, He had not been formally trained as a rabbi. This dispute ends with Him saying, “He is true, who sent me, whom ye know not. I know Him, because I am from Him, and He sent me”, at which they sought to seize Him, but “no one laid a hand on Him, because His hour had not yet come.” Like the Gospel of the preceding day, St John’s account of the cleansing of the temple (2, 13-25), this reading begins to set the stage for the following week, when the Church shifts the focus of the liturgy to the Lord’s Passion.

The introits of these Masses, which are taken from two psalms in sequence, 53 and 54, also hint at this in their verses: on Monday, “For strangers have risen up against me; and the mighty have sought after my soul”, and on Tuesday, “I am grieved in my exercise; and am troubled, at the voice of the enemy.” At Tenebrae of Holy Thursday, the lessons of the second nocturn are taken from St Augustine’s explanation of the latter verse as a prophecy of the Passion, in his great commentary on the Exposition of the Psalms.

A motet by Orlando de Lassus of the words of today’s Introit, the beginning of Psalm 54: “Exaudi, Deus, oratiónem meam, et ne despéxeris deprecatiónem meam: intende in me et exaudi me.” (Hearken, o God, to my prayer; and despise not my pleading; give heed to me, and hearken unto me.)

The epistle for this Mass is Exodus 32, 7-14, in which Moses is told by God to come down from the mountain, where he has been for forty days and nights, so that he may see that the people have rebelled against the Lord and made the golden calf. God offers to destroy them and raise up a new and great nation from Moses himself, but the prophet intercedes for them, “and the Lord was appeased from doing the evil which he had spoken against his people.”

In the oldest lectionaries of the Roman Rite, a shorter version of this same reading, beginning at verse 11, was the fifth Old Testament lesson on the Ember Saturday of September, which falls near the beginning of the range of dates for the Jewish feast of Tabernacles. As I have described elsewhere, this reading is paired with an epistle from the Letter to the Hebrews (9, 2-12), which says that the Tabernacle of the Covenant was but “a parable of the time present… but Christ, being come as a high priest of the good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle not made by hand, that is, not of this creation: neither by the blood of goats, or of calves, but by his own blood, entered once into the holies, having obtained eternal redemption.”

In the article linked above, I postulated that these readings were paired thus for the sake of those among the early Christians in Rome who still felt themselves to be close to their Jewish roots, and remembered mid-September as the time of the High Holy Days. These people may well have seen the refusal of their former coreligionists to accept Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah as a rebellion against God, similar to that of the golden calf episode. The reading from Exodus would thus serve to remind them that God had been merciful at the appeal of Moses, and suggest that He would be similarly merciful through the appeal of Christ, “the high priest of the good things to come, who by His own blood obtained eternal redemption by a greater and more perfect tabernacle.” And indeed, the Gospel for today in the Roman version includes the first part of verse 31, which is not read in either the Byzantine Rite, or the oldest lectionaries of the Mozarabic rite, “But of the people many believed in him,” a reminder that many Jews did in fact accept the Messiah when He came.

The Worship of the Golden Calf, 1518-19, painted by Raphael and assistants in the loggia of the papal palace of the Vatican. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

This idea seems also to have determined the texts of the other chants of the Mass. The Gradual includes the first verse of Psalm 43, “We have heard, o God, with our ears: our fathers have declared to us the work which thou hast wrought in their days, and in the days of old.” As St Paul says at the very beginning of Hebrews, God “spoke at sundry times and in divers manners to our fathers by the prophets, (and) last of all, in these days hath spoken to us by his Son.” This would therefore profess that some of the Jews had in fact heard what God said by Him in the person of His Son when He was sent in the fulness of time.

The Offertory chant is taken from Psalm 39, and in this context, speaks of the longing of the Jewish people for their redemption: “Eagerly did I await the Lord, and He looked upon me and heard my prayers”, i.e. prayers for for the coming of the Messiah. “And He put into my mouth a new song”, referring to the establishment of a new people, a new Israel, and a new manner of worship. And thus in the Communio, from Psalm 19, “We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we shall be exalted”, “salvation” being the meaning of the Holy Name of Jesus.

The Offertory Exspectans exspectavi, which is also sung on the 15th Sunday after Pentecost: “Exspectans exspectávi Dóminum, et respexit me, et exaudívit deprecatiónem meam, et immísit in os meum cánticum novum, hymnum Deo nostro. ~ Eagerly did I await the Lord, and He looked upon me, and put into my mouth a new song, a hymn to our God.”

The Communio Laetabimur in salutari tuo, recorded by the mighty brothers of OP Chant. “Laetábimur in salutári tuo: et in nómine Dómini, Dei nostri, magnificábimur. ~ We shall rejoice in Thy salvation, and in the name of the Lord, our God, we shall be glorified.”

The Apple of Her Eye

“The Lord God planted a garden in Eden, which is in the east, and there he put the man he had fashioned. From the soil, the Lord God caused to grow every kind of tree, enticing to look at and good to eat, with the tree of life in the middle of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” (Gen. 2, 8-9) 

This 17th century painting by an anonymous follower of the Flemish artist Ambrosius Benson (1490-1550) portrays the Madonna and Child with the soft gaze of loving maternal devotion. Mary’s facial features are idealised in the manner of ancient Greek sculptures of goddesses such as Venus, by the convention of artists in the Renaissance period to draw inspiration from classical forms. The idealisation of Mary was not done to present her as a goddess, but rather to emphasize that she is a person of great beauty and holiness who is worthy of our veneration.

The white swaddling clothes that envelop Christ remind us of his future burial shroud, linking his infancy to his ultimate sacrifice through his passion and death before the Resurrection. As is common in oil paintings of this period, the sharp contrast between the luminous figures and the dark background emphasises that Christ is the Light that overcomes the darkness (cf. John 1, 5).

The painting shows two fruits: Mary holds a pear, while Christ has an apple. The juxtaposition of the pear and apple suggests that the fruits’ symbolism relates to the different trees of Eden described in the book of Genesis, and referred to in the quoted passage above.

First, the apple alludes to the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. This is the fruit that Adam and Eve ate, although God had forbidden them to do so. Scripture does not name the fruit as an apple, but the connection arose because the Latin word malum means both “apple” and “evil”; it therefore became a symbol of the fruit of this tree, and hence of the Fall. The Church Fathers suggest that this malum - bad fruit - was presented by God as a test of obedience for Adam and Eve, which, of course, they failed spectacularly. Their disobedience in eating the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil brought about the Fall, subjecting mankind to the effects of sin and evil thereafter.

When the apple is in the hand of Christ, the New Adam, it is transformed into the fruit of salvation. This additional interpretation is based on a passage from the Canticle of Canticles 2, 3:

“As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my love among young men. In his delightful shade, I sit, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.”

In Christian tradition, the pear as a sweet fruit symbolizes divine love. In this context, in juxtaposition with the apple, it might also be considered the sweet fruit of the Tree of Life. Mary holds the pear in her left hand and supports Jesus, connecting the two in our minds. As members of the Church, we eat the fruit of the Tree of Life, which is Jesus, present in the Eucharist, and are, as a result, promised eternal life.

Church Fathers such as Ephraim the Syrian speculated that Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden to prevent them from eating the fruit of eternal life, which, after the Fall, would have condemned man to eternal misery:

“For if he [Adam] had the audacity to eat of the Tree of which he was commanded not to eat, how much then more would he make a dash for the Tree concerning which he had received no command? Lest therefore he eat of it after having transgressed and live forever bearing the shame of the transgression, God expelled him from Paradise.”— (Commentary on Genesis, Section II, 31).

Through his Church, God now invites all people to enter the life initially intended for Adam and Eve, but from which they were initially barred. Thus, humanity has gained more than Original Paradise. God offers us the path to eternal life in heaven, representing not just the redemption of man but also the elevation of human nature to something higher. The naturally sweet pear and the redeemed or, one might say, supernaturally ripened apple can be allusions to the Eucharist, perhaps indicating that through the Church, we are offered both what would have been without the Fall and what came from the Fall through Christ’s intervention.

The Exposition of the Holy Lance at St Peter’s Basilica

The YouTube channel of EWTN recently published a video about the exposition of the Holy Lance at St Peter’s basilica on the first Saturday of Lent. This was formerly done on the Ember Friday, which was long kept as the feast of the Holy Lance and Nails, but since this feast is no longer observed, the exposition of the relic has been transferred to the following day, when the station is at St Peter’s. Each of the four massive pillars which hold up the church’s dome is dedicated to one of its major relics (apart from those of the Apostle himself, of course): the True Cross, a piece of which is kept there; the Holy Lance; the skull of St Andrew; and the veil of Veronica. The last of these is shown to the faithful on Passion Sunday, when the station is also at St Peter’s. Our good friend Jacob Stein from Crux Stationalis is interviewed, and talks about the importance of the station and the relic, the veneration of which starts Lent off by looking forward to the Passion on Good Friday.

Here is Jacob’s own video about the station of that day: as a reminder, his YouTube channel has new videos about the stations and other Roman customs several times a week at least.

The Feast and Sunday of St John Climacus

In the Byzantine liturgy, each of the Sundays of Lent has a special commemoration attached to it. The first Sunday is known as the Sunday of Orthodoxy, because it commemorates the defeat of iconoclasm and the restoration of the orthodox belief in the use of icons; many churches have a procession in which the clergy and faithful carry the icons, as seen in this video from the Sacred Patriarchal Monastery of St Irene Chrysovalantou, in Astoria, New York.

The Third Sunday of Lent is called the Sunday of the Adoration of the Cross; in place of the Trisagion are sung the words “We venerate Thy Cross, O Lord, and we glorify Thy holy Resurrection.” A cross is placed in the middle of the church, and “We venerate Thy Cross” is sung again three times, as all prostrate themselves before it, and then come forth to kiss it. The traditional Church Slavonic melody is in my opinion one of the most beautiful pieces in the repertoire.

The Fourth Sunday is dedicated to St John of the Ladder, whose Greek title (“tēs klimakos - of the Ladder”) is often improperly Anglicized as “Climacus”; he also has his own feast day on the calendar, March 30, which can falls on his Sunday, as it does this year, or near it, when Easter is later. (In 2019, on the Gregorian calendar, his feast day was on Saturday, and followed immediately by the Sunday dedicated to him.) The title refers to his popular and extremely influential spiritual treatise, the Ladder of Paradise, still commonly read, and especially in Lent, among Eastern Christians. The treatise is also known as the Ladder of Divine Ascent, and outlines thirty steps by which, through the acquisition and exercise of the various virtues, one may seek to ascend to attain to salvation. The icon of his feast shows him indicating the ladder by which a group of monks ascend to Heaven; with an important touch of realism, all versions of this icon show some of the monks being pulled off the ladder by devils with grappling hooks, and falling into the mouth of hell on the lower right.

Very little is known about St John’s origins and life, and even the exact period in which he lived has been the subject of academic debate. A letter of Pope St Gregory the Great in the year 600 is addressed to one John, the “abbot of Mount Sinai”; John Climacus certainly held this office at one time, and he is traditionally said to be the recipient of letter, and to have died at around the age of 75 a few years later. Others place his life at a later period, from roughly 580-650.

The Troparion: With the streams of thy tears thou didst till the barren desert, and with sighs from the depths of thy soul, thou didst render thy labors fruitful a hundredfold, and became a shining light for the world, resplendent with miracles. O John, our holy father, entreat Christ our God that our souls be saved.
The Kontakion: The Lord truly set you on the heights of abstinence, to be a guiding star, showing the way to the universe, o our Father and Teacher John.

The Story of Susanna in the Liturgy of Lent

In the Roman Rite, the story of Susanna is read as the epistle of Saturday of the third week of Lent, the longest epistle of the entire year. This episode is not in the Hebrew text of Daniel, but in the manuscripts of the Septuagint, it appears as the beginning of the book, probably because in verse 45 Daniel is called a “younger man”, which was apparently understood to mean “younger than he was when the rest of the story happened.” When St Jerome produced the group of translations now known as the Vulgate, he relegated the story to the end of the book, along with the other “apocryphal” episode known as Bel and the Dragon; hence the common designation of Susanna as chapter 13 of Daniel. Well before Jerome’s time, however, the great biblical scholar Origen had defended the canonicity of Susanna in a letter to his friend Africanus, who claimed that the Greek puns in the book proved that it could not be part of the original text. It is very important to note that Origen’s defense of the story, and of the other deuterocanonical books, repeatedly refers to the “use” of the book in the churches, i.e., in the liturgy. He also cites a saying of the book of Proverbs, “Thou shalt not remove the ancient landmarks which thy fathers have set,” (22, 28), a passage long understood by Jewish commentators as a command to preserve the ancient traditions of religious practice. His opinion, and not that of St. Jerome, is clearly that of the majority of early Christians, as reflected not only in theoretical consideration, but also in early Christian art, and the ancient traditions which find their way into the lectionaries.

(Pictured above: Daniel in the lion’s den, from the Dogmatic Sarcophagus in the Vatican Museums, ca. 340 A.D. On the right, the prophet Habakkuk bringing food to Daniel.)

A contemporary of Origen provides an exegetical basis for understanding the importance of the story of Susanna to the early Church. Among the fragments of a commentary on Daniel written by Hippolytus of Rome (died ca. 236) we read in reference to Susanna that she “prefigured the Church; and Joachim, her husband, Christ; and the garden, the calling of the saints, who are planted like fruitful trees in the Church. And Babylon is the world; and the two elders are set forth as a figure of the two peoples that plot against the Church – the one, namely, of the circumcision, and the other of the gentiles.” (On Susannah 7: the reader will understand, of course, that this quotation is in no wise chosen in endorsement of Hippolytus’ anti-Jewish sentiments.) And later on, “it is in our power also to apprehend the real meaning of all that befell Susannah. For you may find this also fulfilled in the present condition of the Church. For when the two peoples conspire to destroy any of the saints, they watch for a fit time, and enter the house of God while all there are praying and praising God, and seize some of them, and carry them off, and keep hold of them, saying, ‘Come, consent with us, and worship our gods; and if not, we will bear witness against you.’ And when they refuse, they drag them before the court and accuse them of acting contrary to the decrees of Caesar, and condemn them to death.” (On Susannah 22)

We cannot be certain that it is Hippolytus’ interpretation specifically which influenced the early Church to assign the story of Susanna to Lent. However, we can say with certainty that the Lenten readings for Mass were largely chosen as lessons for the catechumens who would be baptized at Easter, and that the story of Susanna was read to prepare the new Christians for the reality of persecution in the Roman Empire. This is reflected in the art of the catacombs, where stories from the Lenten lectionary are always very prominent, Susanna among them. In the catacomb of Praetextatus, for example, she appears as a lamb (the name Susanna is written over her), with two wolves on either side of her labelled “seniores – the elders.”

Susanna as a lamb between two wolves, from the Arcosolium of Celerina in the Catacomb of Praetextatus, mid-4th century.

In the catacomb of Priscilla, the story appears in three parts in the burial chamber known as the Greek Chapel, made in the second half of the second century A.D. On the right side, the two elders are pointing at Susanna’s midriff, indicating that “they were inflamed with lust towards her” (verse 8); on the left side (further from the camera in this photo), the two elders, having been refused by Susanna, accuse her before the people of adultery by placing their hands upon her head (verse 34). She is condemned to death, but the prophet Daniel, inspired by the Lord, saves her by asking the two elders separately where exactly in Joachim’s garden they witnessed the supposed adultery. When they give different responses, the Jews of Babylon realize she is innocent, and put the two elders to death; in the final scene, Daniel (not visible in this photograph) and Susanna give thanks to God for her deliverance.

The so-called Greek Chapel in the Catacomb of Priscilla, second half of the second century. The stories of Susanna appear on the side walls, with white backgrounds.

In Rome, the Station for today is kept at the church of St Susanna, who is traditionally said to have been martyred, like her uncle Pope St Caius (283-96) and her father, St Gabinus, under the Emperor Diocletian. This station was clearly chosen for the coincidence of names; in the Ordinary Form, it has been moved to Monday of the week traditionally known as Passion Week, although the stations have not been rearranged accordingly. In the lectionary of 1969, it may also be read in an abbreviated form which begins directly with Susanna’s condemnation at verse 41.

The façade of Santa Susanna, by Carlo Maderno, 1603

In the Ambrosian Liturgy, which in many respects provided inspiration for the post-conciliar revisions, the association with the Lord’s Passion is made even more explicit. The reading is assigned to Holy Thursday, which in the Milanese lectionary is focused much more on the Passion than on the institution of the Eucharist. At a service of readings and prayers said after Terce, the first reading is that of Susanna; the psalmellus (the equivalent of a gradual in the Roman Rite) which follows is taken from Psalm 34, “Unjust witnesses rising up have asked me things I knew not. They repaid me evil for good.” The second reading is from the book of Wisdom, chapter 2, 12 – 25, beginning with the words “In those days the wicked said to each other: Let us lie in wait for the just, because he is useless to us, and he is contrary to our doings, and upbraideth us with transgressions of the law, and divulgeth against us the sins of our way of life.” The Gospel that follows immediately after, Matthew 26, 14-16, tells of the betrayal of Judas, who sells the Lord for thirty silver pieces.

Although the reading was chosen to prepare the catechumens for membership in a persecuted sect, it continued in use after the liberty of the Church, as did many other early liturgical references to the Age of the Martyrs. In the Breviary of St. Pius V, we read an explanation of this in the second nocturn of Passion Sunday, from the ninth Lenten sermon of Pope St Leo the Great.

(In Lent) a greater fast was ordered by the holy Apostles, taught by the Holy Spirit, so that by a common sharing in the Cross of Christ, we too may in some measure partake in what He did for our sake, as the Apostle says, ‘If we suffer with Him, we will be also glorified with Him.’ Certain and sure is the hope of blessedness promised to us, when we partake of the Lord’s Passion. There is no one, dearly beloved, who is denied a share of this glory because of the time he lives in, as if the tranquility of peace was without occasion for virtue. For the Apostle foretells us, ‘All that will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution’; and therefore, there will never lack the tribulation of persecution, if the observance of godliness is not lacking. For the Lord himself says in his exhortations, ‘He that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.’ And we must not doubt that these words apply not only to his immediate disciples, but belong to all the faithful and to the whole Church; who all heard of His salvation in the person of those present.

A New Edition of the Monastic Breviary Available Soon

The printing house of the Monastère Saint-Benoît in Brignole, France, Éditions Pax inter Spinas, is pleased to announce the re-publication of the two volumes of the last edition (1963) of the traditional Latin Monastic Breviary.

The Breviary contains all that is necessary to pray the complete Monastic Divine Office of Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline for each day of the liturgical year. In addition to the complete contents of the 1963 edition, an appendix will provide texts found in previous editions of the Breviary for those who wish to use them. Printed on bible paper in black and red throughout with gilt edges, 6 silk marker ribbons and a black flexible cover, these volumes shall be both worthy and durable.

In addition to the whole of the Monastic Office, both volumes of the Breviarium Monasticum include the Little Office of Our Lady, the manner of praying the Gradual psalms in choir, as well as the seven penitential psalms and the litany of the saints. There is also an appendix with excepts from the Roman Missal (the prayers for the preparation for Mass and thanksgiving afterwards), prayers to St Benedict, prayers for the pope, prayers for the renewal of religious profession, a filial commendation to St Benedict, excerpts from the Roman Ritual (the litanies of the Holy Name, of the Sacred Heart, of the Precious Blood, of Our Lady, of St Joseph, rites for visiting and blessing the Sick, rites and prayers for the dying, rites for the blessing of Holy Water, images, children, medals of St Benedict, rosaries, houses, etc.), monastic rites including the blessings of lectors and refectory servers, grace before and after meals, the Itinerarium, the General Absolution from faults against the Rule given at certain times of the year, as well as the brief formulae used in the administration of the Sacraments in emergencies.

The Breviary is now in production with a publication date of 11 July 2025 (it may well be available earlier). All orders paid for by the publication date of 11 July will benefit from a €50 discount on the published price of €275,00 per set, post free worldwide. The Breviaries are not available as separate volumes. Discounts are available for orders from monasteries or other religious communities for orders of 5+ copies. Trade discounts are available for bookshops. Please contact us.

BREVIARIUM MONASTICUM vol. I 10.5 x 16.5cm, sewn flexible cover, 1680pp ISBN 9782956905523

BREVIARIUM MONASTICUM vol. II 10.5 x 16.5cm, sewn flexible cover, 1400pp ISBN 9782956905530

Special pre-publication offer until 11 July: 1 set (2 volumes) €225.00, post-free worldwide.

To order: www.monasterebrignoles.org/editionspaxinterspinas.html

A Mid-Western Saint from Rome: Guest Article by Mr Sean Pilcher

Thanks once again to our friend Mr Sean Pilcher, this time for sharing with us this account of the relics of a Saint from the Roman catacombs, which were brought to the cathedral of Dubuque, Iowa, in the 19th century. Mr Pilcher is the director of Sacra: Relics of the Saints (sacrarelics.org), an apostolate that promotes education about relics, and works to repair, research, and document relics for religious houses and dioceses. Sacra recently did an inventory and cleaning of the relics as part of the cathedral’s recently completed renovation.

In 1837 Pope Gregory XVI named Msgr Pierre-Jean-Mathias Loras (1792 – 1858), originally born in France, first bishop of the diocese of Dubuque. This territory was of considerable size, ranging over present-day Iowa, Minnesota, part of Wisconsin, and the Dakotas. Bishop Loras’ father, Jean-Mathias Loras, had been guillotined during the French Revolution for harboring priests. Two of his aunts and one uncle were also be put to death for sheltering priests in their home. Loras had a strong sense of his identity as a Catholic, and a knowledge that he would have to sacrifice much to spread the Faith. Once he was consecrated bishop, he set about learning all he could of his new diocese. There were three Catholic parishes, an Indian mission, and one priest.

Roman Boy Martyr, Oxford Oratory. Photo courtesy of the Rev’d James Bradley, J.C.D.

In an audience with the Holy Father, Bishop Loras received relics for his new mission. These relics, usually remains of martyrs from Rome’s catacombs, were meant to bridge the gap between the Old World and the New World, as well as establish spiritual ties between mission territory and already-Christianised Europe. As holy relics of a saint, they would also form a spiritual bond between Catholics striving for holiness on earth, and those who had already won the crown in heaven.

Msgr Mathias Loras

Relics would be used in consecrating new altars as churches were established, and could serve as a focal point for local liturgical life and popular devotion to the saints. The New World could not yet boast many saints—it was Bishop Loras’s job to change that—but in the meantime, Rome could spare a few.

The reliquary box brought by Bishop Loras from Rome. All photos of relics and reliquary courtesy of Katzie & Ben. Photography.

At his audience with the Pope, Bishop Loras received a marbled wooden box containing relics of a Roman boy martyr called Cessianus from the catacombs. The Saint, whose name is a nomen proprium, and not a generic name affixed to remains, was removed from the catacombs of St Callistus and granted as a sign of unity, encouragement, and commission to Bishop Loras. He brought the marbled wooden box with the bones, a glass ‘vessel of dried blood’ (which we shall return to later), and possibly a marble gravestone, on a boat with him to America, and it was on this dangerous journey that Loras’ particular devotion to the Saint began.

Eugène Louis Boudin, Le Havre, Brooklyn Museum

It was time to make the long journey across the sea. As Bishop Loras and his companions left Le Havre, France, on 27 August, 1838, they brought the box of the relics of the Saint, whom he endearingly called Saint Cessien–early English-language sources call him St Cessian. The journey was of course taken by boat, and subject to considerable danger. Bishop Loras credited his safe arrival in New York on 10 October to the intercession of his boy saint; he was even able to offer Mass with the relics several times while at sea, a great source of consolation to all present. He did not arrive until April of 1839; from New York he first went to St Louis, and then traveled with the relics up the Mississippi to his new diocese, arriving two full years after his appointment by the Pope. When he made his solemn entrance into his cathedral in the American wilderness, St Cessian was there. Here was a true meeting of Romanità and the pioneering spirit of the New World.

After settling into his new diocese, Bishop Loras wrote to the Sacred Congregation of Rites in Rome asking for St Cessian to have a special feast in his diocese, with its own Mass and Office, on 25 October:

‘Je vous prierai si ce n’est pas trop tard, de faire insérer dans l’ordo pour le diocèse de Dubuque au 25 octobre, festum Sancti Cessiani, Martyris, Duplex cum suo officio de praecepto.’ (I should ask you, if it is not too late, to kindly add into the ordo for the Diocess of Dubuque, a feast of St Cessian, martyr, on 25 October, a duplex feast with an obligatory office.)

Catacomb martyrs are saints, but it was not always a given that they would be liturgically commemorated. This letter shows the importance St Cessian’s feast had for Bishop Loras, and the initiative he personally took to establish devotion for him in his diocese.

His Excellency Mathias Loras, First Bishop of Dubuque

The feast of St Cessian (25 October) comes the day after the titular feast of the cathedral and diocese’s principle patron, St Raphael the Archangel, whose traditional feast is 24 October. The date has a connection to the Saint’s grave marker from the catacombs. Although the marker has not yet been rediscovered, the inscription on it was carefully recorded on the relic’s documentation. It may have been irrevocably lost, or may still lie in an archive somewhere.

The inscription from the grave marker, as recorded on the document given to Bishop Loras. 

The inscription reads ⳨ ΘΚΑΛΑ—ΝΟΒ—ΚΑΤ. ΚΕϹϹΙΑΝΟϹ. The first character is a staurogram or chi-rho symbol, a mark of the Christian Faith. Then follows ‘nine days (the Greek letter nine is written as the letter theta) before the kalends of November, Cessianus was buried.’ The date is October 24, the same day as St Raphael, so Bishop Loras chose the following day for his feast. Since St Cessian would be the patron of the whole territory, celebrations of the two saints could be easily linked. If and when the original marker is found, its inscription can be compared to this record to ensure a match.

Another, unrelated Christian gravemarker, for reference.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Fons et Culmen Sacred Liturgy Summit - July 1–4, Menlo Park, California

You are cordially invited to the Fons et Culmen Sacred Liturgy Summit, which will be held from July 1-4, in Menlo Park, California!

Fons et Culmen Sacred Liturgy Summit gathers together Catholics who love Christ, the Church, and the Church’s sacred liturgical tradition for: 

- the solemn celebration of the Mass and Vespers;
- insightful talks on the sacred liturgy, liturgical formation, and the sacred liturgical arts;
- and fellowship to build fraternal bonds through which the clergy, religious, and lay faithful can support the Church and one another in their promotion of the sacred liturgy.

Fons et Culmen

At the heart of the Summit is the solemn pontifical celebration of the sacred liturgy, both Mass and Vespers.

The conference liturgies feature a special emphasis on excellence in ars celebrandi, superb preaching, beautiful sacred music rendered from the Church’s treasury throughout the ages by a professional choir, and the opportunity to sing Vespers in common.

Clergy attendees, supported by letters of good standing, are welcome and encouraged to assist at conference liturgies.

Lectures

Featuring lectures from prominent prelates, clergy, and laity from around the world, the talks of the Summit will offer timely insight into the nature of the sacred liturgy, its ars celebrandi, liturgical formation, the sacred liturgical arts (music, art, and architecture), and the role of the sacred liturgy in the lives of the Church’s clergy and faithful.

Fellowship

Designed to foster conversation amongst attendees and speakers, the Summit schedule features time for shared meals and conversational fora.

The fora, moderated by conference hosts, will engage participants, prelates and clergy in attendance, and Summit speakers in discussion about the practicalities of the promotion of the sacred liturgy and liturgical formation in their parishes and schools.

Speakers and Liturgical Celebrants include:
- His Eminence Robert Cardinal Sarah, Prefect Emeritus, Congregation for Divine Worship
- His Eminence Malcolm Cardinal Ranjith, Archbishop of Colombo, Sri Lanka

- His Eminence Seán Cardinal O'Malley, Archbishop Emeritus of Boston
- His Excellency Salvatore J. Cordileone, Archbishop of San Francisco
- His Excellency Michael C. Barber, SJ, Bishop of Oakland
- His Excellency Bishop Earl K. Fernandes, Bishop of Columbus, Ohio
- Dom Benedict Nivakoff, OSB, Abbot of San Benedetto in Monte, Norcia, Italy
- Abbot Marc Crilly, OSB, Abbot of St. Benedict Abbey, Still River, Massachusetts
- Rev. Lawrence Lew, OP, Dominican Order’s Promoter General for the Holy Rosary
- Dr. Jennifer Donelson-Nowicka, Director, Catholic Institute of Sacred Music
- Rev. Anselm Ramelow, OP, Professor of Philosophy, Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology
- Dr. Michael Foley, Professor of Patristics, Baylor University
- Dr. Anthony Lilles, Professor of Spiritual Theology, St. Patrick’s Seminary
- Dr. John Pepino, Academic Dean, Veterum Sapientia Institute
- Dino Marcantonio, Architect, New York
- Rev. Joshua Neu, Assistant Professor of Scripture, St. Patrick’s Seminary, Menlo Park
- Rev. Vincent Woo, Assistant Professor of Canon Law, St. Patrick’s Seminary, Menlo Park

Directors of Sacred Music:
- Prof. Christopher Berry, Director of Sacred Music and Organist, St. Stanislaus Oratory, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
- Dr. Jennifer Donelson-Nowicka, Director, Catholic Institute of Sacred Music

Organist:
- Dr. Aaron James, Director of Music, Toronto Oratory, Sessional Lecturer in Organ, University of Toronto

The music will be rendered by an all-professional choir assembled from around the U.S.

View the complete speaker lineup here.
View the complete musician lineup here.
View the complete schedule here.
REGISTRATION AND FAQ here.

A Lenten Station Mass in the Roman Forum

Today’s Mass is one of the series instituted by Pope St Gregory II (715-31) when he abolished the older custom of the Roman Rite, by which the Thursdays of Lent were “aliturgical” days on which no Mass was celebrated. The station appointed for the day is at the basilica of Ss Cosmas and Damian, which was constructed by Pope St Felix IV (526-30) in the Roman Forum, partly by rebuilding two earlier structures. As we see it today, this church preserves very little of its original appearance. The one surviving part of its earliest decoration, the apsidal mosaic, has been heavily restored more than once. Because the Forum is within the Tiber’s flood plain, the church was very badly damaged over the course of the Middle Ages, and in 1632, Pope Urban VIII had a new floor put in roughly 23 feet above the level of the old one, effectively cutting the building in half.

The Stational Mass at Ss Cosmas and Damian in 2017; photo by the great Agnese. The forward tilt of the apsidal mosaic is determined in part by the fact that it was meant to be seen from a vantage point more than 20 feet lower than the current floor of the church.

This Mass is unique in that three of its prayers, the Collect, Secret and Post-Communion (but not the prayer “over the people” at the end), were originally composed for the feast of the Saints to whom the station church is dedicated; in the Old Gelasian Sacramentary, the oldest sacramentary of the Roman Rite, they are assigned to the feast of Ss Cosmas and Damian on September 27th. It is not at all evident why the compilers of the Gregorian Sacramentary decided to move them from the feast to the station without altering their wording, so that the Collect speaks of the “blessed solemnity of Cosmas and Damian”, and the Secret of the sacrifice offered “in the precious death of Thy just ones.” (On the feast itself, these prayers are replaced with the ones found in the Missal of St Pius V.) The only other prayer of a stational Mass that refers to a Saint in this way is the Collect of Sexagesima Sunday, which mentions St Paul, at whose tomb the station is held. However, this prayer was composed specifically for the Mass of Sexagesima, and does not refer to the day as a feast, nor is there any mention of St Paul in the other prayers.

In the Lent volume of The Liturgical Year, Dom Prosper Guéranger attempts to explain this anomaly as an imitation of the Byzantine Rite, and is followed in this by the Blessed Schuster. The Byzantine Third Sunday of Lent is effectively kept as a feast, known as the Veneration of the Holy and Life-Giving Cross. The following Thursday, today, marks the middle of Byzantine Lent, and has some special liturgical texts which encourage the faithful to persevere in the fasting and other exercises which they have already half-completed. Guéranger and Schuster therefore both explain the festal character of today’s Roman stational Mass as an imitation of the festal character of the Sunday of the Veneration of the Cross and of Mid-Lent.

These photos were taken yesterday in the church of St Anthony the Abbot in Rome, the church of the Pontifical Russian College (on the Esquiline hill, very close to Santa Maria Maggiore.) At the end of Orthros of the Third Sunday of Lent, the Cross is brought out of the sanctuary and set up in the middle of the church in this fashion, and remains there until after the Ninth Hour on the following Friday. For the feast of the Annunciation and its afterfeast, the festal icon is placed next to it. (Courtesy of the church’s rector, Fr Joseph Koczera, SJ.)

However, Mid-Lent is in point of fact a very minor feature of the Byzantine liturgy. There are references to it on each weekday after the Veneration of the Cross (as Guéranger does note), but there are far more of them on Wednesday and Friday than on Thursday, and in any case, they are on every day vastly outnumbered by references to the Cross. Furthermore, the texts about Mid-Lent are encouragements to perseverance, but do not have a festal character such that one would call it a “blessed solemnity.” For example, the very first such text on Monday begins “having now completed half the hard toil of our self-restraint...”

If the Byzantine Rite had any influence on the Roman in this regard, it seems much more likely it would be felt rather on Laetare Sunday, which has a similarly festive tone, and would determine the station for that day at the basilica of the Holy Cross. It may also perhaps have influenced the choice of Gospel for the Tuesday after Laetare, John 7, 14-31, which begins with the words, “Now about the middle of the feast.” However, it is difficult to see what any of this has to do with Ss Cosmas and Damian; they were indeed Saints from the Byzantine East, but hardly the only ones with a church in Rome.

Folio 35r of the Gellone Sacramentary ca. 780 AD. The Mass of today’s station at Cosmas and Damian begins with the next-to-last rubric; the prayers are not those of the Saint’s feast day.

There is a further problem with this explanation. The Old Gelasian Sacramentary was copied out ca. 750 AD, but represents the state of the Roman liturgy of about 50 years earlier, before the aforementioned reform of St Gregory II. The manuscript therefore contains nothing at all for the Thursdays of Lent. However, later Gelasian sacramentaries, made towards the end of the 8th century or beginning of the 9th, do include Masses for these Thursdays, but the prayers which they have for that of the third week are not those of Ss Cosmas and Damian, and have nothing festive about them. This means that the festive character of the station suggested by the prayers currently in use may well not be original, and would therefore have played no role in determining the station. It seems to me that it would therefore be better to simply recognize that the anomaly cannot be satisfactorily explained.

The choice of some of the other liturgical texts for this Mass, however, is quite easy to understand. By the time of St Gregory II’s reform, the chant repertoire for the Masses was already regarded as a closed canon; therefore, new Gregorian propers were never composed for the Thursdays of Lent, which instead borrow them from other Masses. The Introit is taken from the 19th Sunday after Pentecost: “I am the salvation of the people, saith the Lord; from whatsoever tribulation they shall cry out to me, I will hear them, and I will be their Lord forever.”

The Latin word for “salvation” here, “salus”, also means “health”, and was clearly chosen because Cosmas and Damian were doctors; in the East, they are two among several Saints known as “moneyless” healers, those who did not charge their patients for their services. This theme is also reflected in the Gospel, Luke 4, 38-44, which recounts Christ’s healing of St Peter’s mother-in-law, followed by various other healings of physical ailments (vs. 40) and the expulsion of many demons (vs. 41). These physical healings look back to the Gospel chosen by Gregory II for the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, the healing of the centurion’s servant (Matt. 8, 5-13). The healing of the possessed looks back to the healing of the possessed daughter of the Canaanite woman on the Thursday after that (Matt. 15, 21-28), and forward to the Gospel of Passion Thursday, Luke 7, 36-50, the anointing of Christ’s feet by the sinful woman. This woman has long been understood in the West to be St Mary Magdalene, “from whom seven demons had gone out”, as stated at the beginning of the next chapter. (Luke 8, 2)

At the end of the Gospel, the people of Capharnaum “stayed (Jesus) that he should not depart from them, to whom he said, ‘To other cities also I must preach the kingdom of God.’ ” These words are appointed to be read in the first Christian church built in the Forum, the very heart of ancient Rome, which the Romans themselves often called simply “The City.” Ending the reading with Christ’s own words about preaching to other cities therefore reminds us of the providential role which the Roman Empire played in the spread of the Gospel: first, by pacifying the world, as noted in the Martyrology entry of Christmas, which states that Christ was born “in the forty-second year of the rule of Octavian Augustus, when all the world was set at peace”; second, by building the road system which Christian missionaries used to travel to every corner of the empire. This may be why the Communion antiphon was also taken from the 19th Sunday after Pentecost, “Thou hast commanded thy commandments to be kept most diligently. O! that my ways may be directed to keep thy justifications.” (Psalm 118, 4-5).

It also reminds us specifically of the German mission of St Boniface, who came to Rome in 718 to receive confirmation of and authority to continue his missionary activities in Germany from St Gregory II. Four years later, he returned to Rome, and was consecrated a bishop for the entire region by the same Pope, given the pallium, and authority to organize a hierarchy. And indeed, considering the significance of this mission, and the active interest which Gregory II took in it, we may well posit that this Gospel was chosen for the Mass first, and then the station chosen as an appropriate place to read it.

All of these themes appear also in the Epistle of the day, Jeremiah 7, 1-7. “Stand in the gate of the house of the Lord, and proclaim there this word…” The original gates of the church of Saints Cosmas and Damian on the Forum side are to this very day preserved from the original building out of which the church was made, and date back to the beginning of the fourth century. As one stands at them, one can look into the Forum and see several of its most important monuments, including the regia, the ancient home of Rome’s chief religious authority, the pontifex maximus, and the temple of the first divinized emperor, Julius Caesar. More than anything else, it was the refusal of the early Christians to participate in the cult of the divinized emperors that led the Romans to persecute them; the admonition of verse 6 to “walk not after strange gods to your own hurt” would therefore refer to the conversion of Rome, the former persecutor, her renunciation of her ancient and false gods, and her role in leading other peoples (at that point, the Germans) to do the same.

The basilica of Ss Cosmas and Damian, seen from the Palatine Hill. The bronze doors seen near the bottom of this photo are the ones mentioned above. Going left from this point of view, but right when exiting the church, the regia is just a few steps down the street which passes in front of it, known as the Via Sacra, and the temple of Julius Caesar is next to the regia.

That none of this is accidental is confirmed by the prayer “over the people” at the end of the Mass, which asks that “the heavenly propitiation may increase (‘amplificet’) the people subject to Thee.” The verb “amplificet” can mean both to increase in number, but also to broaden, in the sense of spreading the Church beyond the former territories of the Roman Empire, as St Boniface was then doing in Germany. The word “subject” is placed first for emphasis in the Latin. The Romans subjected many peoples to their empire, which then became the means of their evangelization. These peoples are now subject to Christ, and worship Him in the very heart of that empire, led by one who now more truly bears the title “Pontifex Maximus.”

Do Priests or Religious Need Special Permission to Pray a Pre-55 Breviary?

On occasion, I receive an email like the following (in this case, from a seminarian): “Do you happen to know of any sources/authoritative references which you could point me to that explain why praying the Pre-55 Breviary definitely satisfies the canonical obligation for clerics or religious? As I am strongly desirous of the Pre-55 Liturgy, I wanted to check all my p’s and q’s.” (The same question could be asked, mutatis mutandis, about taking up a pre-Pius X breviary as well.)

My Initial View

In the past, my standard line has been: There is no official statement that you can do this. If one can do it, it is because “what earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too, and it cannot be all of a sudden entirely forbidden or even considered harmful. It behooves all of us to preserve the riches which have developed in the Church’s faith and prayer, and to give them their proper place.” It can be done because it is the Church’s venerable and immemorial lex orandi. If you are confident that this is true, then you have sufficient certainty that by fulfilling the obligation as it was fulfilled by countless saints before you, you too are fulfilling it today, in a way that is supererogatory inasmuch as it goes above and beyond the minimum that is required by current law.

However, I thought it best to solicit a variety of opinions from experts. I will now share their responses. As you’ll see, opinions differ, but a certain majority consensus emerges.

Expert Opinion #1 (a secular priest from an Ecclesia Dei institute)

“I am a bit more cautious when it comes to using an older version of the Office than an older version of the Missal, because I see a distinction between, on the one hand, something being the public prayer of the Church and, on the other, something fulfilling a positive obligation imposed by the Church through the power of the keys.

“I would say that if one were to pray the Office using an older version, it would still be the public prayer of the Church. But because the obligation to recite the Divine Office and its binding under the pain of mortal sin is something produced by positive ecclesiastical law, if the requirements as set forth by the law are not fulfilled, then the penalty is incurred. This is different from the Missal as there is, in general, no obligation under penalty to celebrate Mass—an exception being if it is required for the faithful to fulfill an obligation of attendance. For example, I would say that if Pius X had decided that secular clergy or clergy with pastoral responsibilities were bound to recite only Lauds and Vespers, they would fulfill their obligation and avoid sin by doing so, while if they went beyond this, it would still be part of the public prayer of the Church.

“Touching on this topic, ‘Art. 9 §3 of the Motu Proprio Summorum Pontificum gives clerics the faculty to use the Breviarium Romanum in effect in 1962, which is to be prayed entirely and in the Latin language’ (Universae ecclesiae, 32). This expresses that the obligation can be fulfilled using the ’62 Breviary. This does not really answer the question definitively, but it might help shape the direction the discussion might go and the points which need to be considered in answer the question.”

Expert Opinion #2 (a Benedictine monk)

“Would the praying of the pre-55 Breviary constitute a mortal sin if ecclesiastical discipline established that one must pray the 1962 Breviary? Frankly, I think this is the sort of positivist nonsense that got us into trouble in the first place.

“The promise at ordination is to pray the Divine Office. Period. The Paul VI Liturgy of the Hours is so edited and short that I do not know how someone could possibly incur sin by saying the John XXIII breviary instead, as it is much longer and more demanding. (Imaginary confession: ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have prayed 150 psalms in the Office this week rather than 62.25!’) So too, the older versions are still more demanding. (‘Bless me, Father, I have prayed the Octave of All Saints and enjoyed it! Can this really be a sin?’) Give me a break!

“In the early days of the Ecclesia Dei Commission, Cardinal Mayer was asked by a priest for permission to say the old breviary. His response was that no permission was needed because it is longer than the Breviary of Paul VI. Enough said. So too, the policy of positivism falls, for now Summorum Pontificum is abrogated. The Missal of 1962 is mandated by Summorum; yet it and all its predecessors are forbidden by Traditionis Custodes. Et cetera. Are we supposed to change our liturgical and devotional life with each new pontificate? Come on!

“If a seminarian wishes to pray more, let us thank God and concern ourselves with those who don’t pray the breviary at all.”

My response to the monk:

I am in full agreement. Thank you for your rant. Really, we should say this: The obligation of the cleric or religious is to honor God by praying the Divine Office, consisting of the psalms and other texts. As long as he is doing this in a manner “received and approved,” he is fulfilling that task.

However, it must be recognized that the stranglehold of legal positivism is very powerful, and St. Pius X mightily contributed to it with his over-the-top language when promulgating his own new breviary:

Therefore, by the authority of these letters, We first of all abolish the order of the Psaltery as it is at present in the Roman Breviary, and We absolutely forbid the use of it after the 1st day of January of the year 1913. From that day in all the churches of secular and regular clergy, in the monasteries, orders, congregations and institutes of religious, by all and several who by office or custom recite the Canonical Hours according to the Roman Breviary issued by St. Pius V and revised by Clement VIII, Urban VIII and Leo XIII, We order the religious observance of the new arrangement of the Psaltery in the form in which We have approved it and decreed its publication by the Vatican Printing Press. At the same time, We proclaim the penalties prescribed in law against all who fail in their office of reciting the Canonical Hours every day; all such are to know that they will not be satisfying this grave duty unless they use this Our disposition of the Psaltery.
          We command, therefore, all the Patriarchs, Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots and other Prelates of the Church, not excepting even the Cardinal Archpriests of the Patriarchal Basilicas of the City, to take care to introduce at the appointed time into their respective dioceses, churches or monasteries, the Psaltery with the Rules and Rubrics as arranged by Us; and the Psaltery and these Rules and Rubrics We order to be also inviolately used and observed by all others who are under the obligation of reciting or chanting the Canonical Hours. In the meanwhile, it shall be lawful for everybody and for the chapters themselves, provided the majority of the chapter be in favor, to use duly the new order of the Psaltery immediately after its publication.
          This We publish, declare, sanction, decreeing that these Our letters always are and shall be valid and effective, notwithstanding apostolic constitutions and ordinances, general and special, and everything else whatsoever to the contrary. Wherefore, let nobody infringe or temerariously oppose this page of Our abolition, revocation, permission, ordinance, precept, statue, indult, mandate and will. But if anybody shall presume to attempt this, let him know that he will incur the indignation of Almighty God, and of His Apostles, Sts Peter and Paul.
          Given at Rome at St. Peter’s in the year of the Incarnation of the Lord 1911, on November 1st, the Feast of All Saints, in the ninth year of Our Pontificate. 

So, it seems to me, there must be a theological rationale for maintaining that something like this decree is null and void from the get-go. Not that Pius X’s breviary is thereby invalidated or rendered illegal, but his attempt to prohibit all contrary customs no matter how venerable seems like it would have to be null and void, if we take serious the concept of tradition and do not think it is totally subject to the will of the reigning pontiff (cf. Benedict XVI’s comments about the limits of the pope’s authority: “The Pope is not an absolute monarch whose thoughts and desires are law.... The Pope knows that in his important decisions, he is bound to the great community of faith of all times...,” etc.). If Benedict XVI is right, then the “sacred and great” principle takes precedence over attempts to thwart it.

One may sympathize with the hesitation of clergy or religious to take the line: “I am expressly disobeying the dictate of Pope N. in doing what I’m doing, because it rests on deeper and better principles than his.” One would, at very least, need moral certainty that one had properly understood the nature of the obligation owed to tradition in contrast with that owed to papal legislation. I am reminded here of an exchange at the trial of St. Thomas More: “What, More, you wish to be considered wiser and of better conscience than all the bishops and nobles of the realm?” To which More replied, “My lord, for one bishop of your opinion I have a hundred saints of mine; and for one parliament of yours, and God knows of what kind, I have all the General Councils for 1,000 years, and for one kingdom I have France and all the kingdoms of Christendom.”

The monk’s reply:

“Yes, moral certainty is what one needs. But that comes easily enough when positive law twists and turns back on itself every few years. Pius X was a little over-the-top on authority, perhaps understandably so. Today, when authority changes the teaching of the Church on the definitive revelation of God in Christ, on marriage, on Holy Communion, on the death penalty, on the “blessability” of same-sex unions, etc., it is hard to say that using a fuller, older breviary can be considered grave matter, let alone mortal sin. Trads often lack ecclesial, historical and theological perspective, alas. Following rules—even stupid ones—is often easier than thinking.”

Expert Opinion #3 (diocesan priest and canon lawyer)

“At first glance, it would seem that the command to pray the office must be fulfilled by the use of an edition that has been promulgated and proposed for its fulfilment. From this perspective, only the Paul VI office or the John XXIII office would fulfil the obligation, especially from the vantage of ‘public prayer of the Church,’ i.e., not something done out of personal devotion.[i]

“However, while it is true that the legislation (in Summorum Pontificum Art. 9 n. 3) only specifically mentions the 1962, I still think there is room for the pre-conciliar breviary. Two aspects argue in favor of this: antinomy and lacuna legis.

“Some would argue that this matter falls into an issue of antinomy—two laws or norms belonging to the same juridical ordering, which take place in the same space and attribute incompatible legal consequences to a certain factual situation, which prevents their simultaneous application; in other words, a factual situation with two or more legal consequences that are incompatible because of two rules. So, one might look for a ‘legislative silence’ that would speak in favor of the freedom to use an older breviary. Silence is of far greater canonical value than most people realize.

“Moreover, a failure to specifically proscribe the recitation of the pre-55 breviary would lend support to its use based on the well-established canonical practice of respecting custom; indeed, the elucidation of this issue should be based on analogous situations, e.g., what happens with the missal. Even in this iconoclastic period we are living in, the Church has allowed the use of pre-’62 ceremonies, and even though there is no obligation to celebrate Holy Mass, nevertheless, one could say that the (at times) explicit and (at other times) implicit approval of pre-’62 ceremonies suggests that the breviary could also fall into this approval, even with silence on the subject.

“I would also argue that odious and dishonest things are not to be presumed in law, and since the prayer of an older, at one time normative breviary is certainly not odious, and the use of it in no way bespeaks a desire to contravene the mens legislatoris, one could in good conscience pray the pre-55 breviary.

“Furthermore, I would add that in the modern legislation for the preconciliar liturgy—Summorum Pontificum, Traditionis Custodes, etc.—there is no explicit prohibition of the use of the earlier breviaries, and one could argue that this falls into the well-established legal principle of ‘odiosa sunt restringenda, favores sunt amplianda’: odious laws—in other words, those that restrict a right or freedom—must be interpreted strictly, in favor of those who are subject to them; while favorable laws must be interpreted broadly.

“Finally, we should take into consideration the actual state of affairs in the mess of the postconciliar world. After Vatican II, monastic communities were allowed to experiment and make up their own divine office. You can find this out by visiting almost any community at random: they are all doing different things. There is a principle in the Church: ‘office for office.’ I was visiting an abbey in another country and I noticed that their monastic office was different. I wondered aloud to the prior if praying it would suffice to fulfill my obligation, and he said: ‘office for office,’ meaning, I could substitute the office prayed in common in the abbey for the office I would have prayed from the breviary (so, their morning prayer for my morning prayer, etc.). I do not know how far this notion of ‘office for office’ could be taken, but it seems to suggest that the Church regards it as sufficient if a priest or religious offers the daily round of prayers and praises in any accepted (or even tolerated) form.”

Expert Opinion #4 (another Benedictine)

“I was not convinced by the Benedictine’s first opinion. When he calls the priest’s opinion ‘legal positivism,’ is he denying that this is a matter of positive law? Or is he saying that even though it is a matter of positive law, it should be obvious that this particular law (requiring the Pius X office or the ’62 office) is beyond the authority of the legislator?

As far as I can see, the only real argument he gives (in his first response) is that the old office is much longer than that of Paul VI. To me, this is not convincing. If I am bound by a lawful superior to go to Texas, I don’t fulfill my duty by going to China on the grounds that it is a harder trip. The comparison is not simply ‘more’ in the sense that option 2 includes everything option 1 includes, plus some. That would be different. For the question is not, can a priest pray the whole Paul VI office and then pray the pre-’55 in addition, but rather, can he replace the one with the other? If the Church is a visible body with a visible head who has a real legislative authority, one must allow that positive laws can exist and should be obeyed, even when they are bad laws (I don’t mean sinful, but just mistaken or dumb, or otherwise flawed).

“The monk’s second reply (to your implied objection from Pius X) is more to the point. As far as I can see, the moral certainty that we can stick to the old stuff arises predominantly from the evidence that the new stuff is not simply ‘less,’ or that it does away with a 1,000-year-old tradition, but that it is really somehow against the faith. I don’t mean that the breviary itself of Paul VI contains heresies. Rather, I think one can look at the whole shebang since Vatican II, look at the current pontificate, and reasonably conclude that there is an evil and anti-Catholic trend which encompasses, more or less clearly, all the reforms in the past several decades. The result would be a strong doubt about the obligation to comply, and at least a reasonable guess that sticking to pre-reform prayer is safe, despite what the pope says.

“I don’t want to downplay the importance of tradition, but the fact stands that there is no clear teaching (as far as I know) about the limits of papal authority. For instance, we have no council that says ‘if anyone says a pope can change a tricentennial liturgical custom, let him be anathema.’ And, in fact, the texts we do have tend in the opposite direction.

“As far as I can see, there is no way to know with certainty that Pius X overstepped his authority and that his decree was null. And, as a side note, I am not convinced that this is a purely post-Vatican I problem either. Gregory VII tried aggressively to replace the Mozarabic liturgy with the Roman Liturgy, invoking his papal right to do so. At the same time, I think there is a good deal of evidence to reasonably conclude—notice, I do not say conclude with certainty—that the traditions prior to Vatican II can be safely used, based on the overwhelming evidence that the Church has tended in an anti-Catholic direction since that time.

“The diocesan canonist’s opinion is more convincing to me as well, but for different reasons. It acknowledges that this is a matter of positive law but seeks to answer the question within the framework of positive law. I am not qualified to assess the argument canonically but it seems reasonable. As the aforementioned moral argument is sufficient (in my mind at least), I don’t really bother with trying to find solutions within the letter of the law.”

My response to the last (and in general):

I think the logically possible approaches are well summarized in the expert opinions 1, 2, and 3.

Does a pope have authority to require a certain form of prayer? I think the question is ambiguous. If the form he requires represents a radical break with the form required for centuries and centuries, then we might have a problem on our hands—one that could result in a true crisis of conscience. This is where the fateful combination of legal positivism and ever-expanding ultramontanism presses comes in, for the question is rendered easy if you say the pope has absolute authority over everything liturgical (except for a highly distilled “form and matter” of sacraments), and that the only duty of the subordinate to obey his will (or his whims).

But since this is not the way the Church has behaved throughout her history—in fact, it is the opposite of the way she has behaved—and there are sound theological, anthropological, and moral reasons to think that this cannot be right, one may arrive at the position of the Benedictine monk who says it is absurd to believe that praying a traditional “received and approved” form of the liturgy could be wrong, or ruled out as sinful.

The Texas/China analogy fails because, in fact, we are talking about different forms or versions of the same thing, namely, the divine office by which the hours of the day are to be sanctified through the recitation of psalms and prayers. A form that is both more ancient and more extensive would satisfy a requirement that one must do something of the same kind that is more recent and more restricted. The only way it could be maintained that a later form must replace an earlier form is if there was something wrong with the earlier form.

Indeed, this is why, when Urban VIII changed all the breviary hymn language, the religious communities (Benedictines, Cistercians, Dominicans, some others too) simply begged off and said they were content with the language of the hymns as they existed in their own offices. The new language and the old could exist side-by-side. Nor did that pope, or any other, dare to force the matter. That’s because there once was respect for autonomy and diversity, as opposed to now, when everyone talks about these things but no one actually respects them.

The fact that there is no explicit statement that the pope cannot cancel out “received and approved rites” of venerable standing is because it would have seemed ridiculous to our forebears to think that he could. You might remember the episode at Vatican I:

Now before the final vote on Pastor Aeternus at Vatican I, several Council Fathers were concerned that they would be voting for a doctrine that would give the pope absolute and unqualified jurisdictional authority. Various (documented) discussions were given by members of the Deputation of the Faith assuring the Council Fathers that this was not a correct understanding of the doctrine. That is, they (the Relators of the Deputation) stated that the pope, in his jurisdictional authority, does not have absolute and unqualified jurisdictional authority. One Council Father, however, an American named Bishop Verot of Savannah, apparently was not convinced, and requested that specific qualifying statements (to the effect that the pope’s jurisdictional authority is qualified) be inserted into the texts of the schemas. He was told that the Council Fathers had not come to Rome “to hear buffooneries.” In other words, if this bishop had understood the theological context of the schema, he would not have put himself in such an embarrassing situation. (Brill, Great Sacred Music Reform, 47n25)

I rather regret that it seemed so obvious to the fathers of Vatican I, because I think the qualifying language that Bishop Verot wanted would have been exceedingly useful at present. Of course, when the German bishops got around to explaining Vatican I to Prussia, they did add a number of valuable clarifications, though again, their document suffers from vagueness (just what does “human arbitrariness” amount to? What does it look like? How do we know it when we see it?—assuredly, it seems that today we know it when we see it, because popes have gone so far off the deep end in this or that instance). I tried to bring some clarity to this topic in my lecture “The Pope’s Boundedness to Tradition as a Legislative Limit: Replying to Ultramontanist Apologetics.” Fr. Réginald-Marie Rivoire also discusses this point in his tract Does “Traditionis Custodes” Pass the Juridical Rationality Test? (to which the answer is, no).

Now, if it could be shown that anything demanded by a pope was contrary to the faith or to sound morals, that in itself would be a reason to say no to it and to stick with what was there before. This, evidently, is what we must do with something like Amoris Laetitia. But it seems also true to say that if something demanded by a pope is followed by a period of uninterrupted institutional chaos or decline, it becomes suspect by that very fact; or (perhaps this is to say the same thing) that in a period of institutional chaos or decline, it is legitimate to maintain the “status quo ante,” much as Lefebvre maintained that he realized he had to stick with the missal prior to the deformations of the 1960s that led to the Novus Ordo of 1969. (Sadly, neither he nor the Society has ever quite figured out that the changes in the 1950s were part of the same process of deformation, and therefore should have been rejected for exactly the same reason. It was the same people with the same principles who were behind both phases, before and after the Council.)

This is really all the light I have, and it may not be much. It seems to me that at this time in particular, when the postconciliar autodemolition of the Church is plain for all to see, there is no reason to doubt anymore that the liturgical revolution—which had its ill-starred conception in Pius X’s hyperpapalist revamp of the breviary, its ominous childhood in Pius XII’s rewriting of Holy Week, and its monstrous adulthood in the ruptures of Paul VI—is something that cannot be of God, cannot be truly “of the Church,” and cannot be for the good of souls.

Granted, each stage is worse than the one before, such that, as I argue in chapter 12 of Once and Future Roman Rite, there are fewer objections one can make to earlier stages and more to later ones, which also implies that adhering to the earlier is less problematic than adhering to the latter (e.g., praying the breviary of Pius X is not as bad as using the Holy Week of Pius XII, and using the Holy Week of Pius XII is not as bad as using the missal of Paul VI). But since there is a real continuity of principles, one is fully justified in taking the whole series as a single process, and saying, as a matter of coherent traditionalism: I will pray the breviary and the missal as they existed prior to this revolutionary process.

Benedictines are fortunate in this regard, as they have the unchanged cursus psalmorum of St. Benedict, nice editions of their choir books, and an altar missal from the first half of the 20th century. All this is “ready to go” in a way that makes the Roman situation look terribly messy by comparison. That’s why I’m not surprised that a number of secular clergy have become or seek to become Benedictine oblates: it gives them a direct channel to a full set of traditional liturgical books still in use in a fair number of abbeys in communion with the Holy See.
 

NOTE

[i] A clause in Rubricarum instructum of Pope John XXIII seems intended to close the lid on the issue (mind you, only for those with an obligation to the Divine Office): no. 3, “Item statuta, privilegia, indulta et consuetudines cuiuscumque generis, etiam saecularia et immemorabilia, immo specialissima atque individua mentione digna, quae his rubricis obstant, revocantur.” However, the pope left an exclusion clause in no. 3: “quae his rubricis obstant.” What exactly this amounts to would need further investigation.