An American Diocese Institutes Lenten Stational Churches

My thanks to Kathy Pluth, whose excellent work on hymns I have often cited, for bringing this item to my attention. The Diocese of Bridgeport, Connecticut, which comprises the southwest corner of the state, has instituted a daily Lenten pilgrimage, following the very ancient modeled of the Roman station churches. In this video, His Excellency Frank Caggiano, who has led the diocese since July of 2013, announces that the stations will be held every evening at a different church on the weekdays and Saturdays, starting on Ash Wednesday at the cathedral of St Augustine.

Rome was, of course, not by any means the only place that kept stational observances; e.g., we ran a series in 2019 by Henri de Villiers on those of Paris. There is no reason why other dioceses cannot follow suit and institute a similar custom themselves, and as a reminder, it is not even necessary to have them every day. (The Parisian church only kept them on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays of Lent.) We congratulate Bishop Caggiano for this fine initiative, and very much hope that it will be widely copied - feliciter!

Learn Wall Painting in the Gothic Style of Matthew Paris and the School of St Albans

Artists, This Will Equip You To Get Commissions

Here is a recommendation for painters: if you want to get commissions, you need more than the ability to supply individual paintings in your chosen style. You need to be able to paint walls. My recommendation for style in contemporary churches is a new manifestation of the School of St Albans. Read more about why here.

Virgin and Child, by Matthew Paris, English, 13th century. The artist has included himself venerating the Mother of God and adoring Christ

And here’s a recommendation for patrons, those choosing and paying for art for churches: if you want to have an impact on the liturgical engagement of your congregations through art – something which is vital for the revival of Catholic culture – the most cost-effective way is to introduce a planned full schema of art, floor to ceiling, on the apse or back walls of the sanctuary. Ideally, this would be like the iconostasis in a Byzantine church, except as a wall painting behind the altar.

Fresco by Martin Earle, English, 21st century

Artists can now learn how to do this by taking the Writing the Light wall painting program and icon drawing program under Master iconographer George Kordis. This is a two-year, part-time hybrid program (a combination of online and in-person workshops) – see a recent post about it here. The program focuses on the Greek style of iconography, but students who want to make the School of St Albans style their own should supplement it with personal study of past works by artists such as Matthew Paris. The key is to imitate that style until it becomes your natural artistic expression. This process of copying with understanding is how, for example, artists of the High Renaissance such as Michelangelo and Raphael made the ancient Greek ideal their own. They systematically copied Greek and Roman statues as part of their training, as well as drawing and painting from life. So artists who wish to make the Gothic style their own should learn the skills of their craft – Writing the Light will teach them this – as they study both from life and works of past Masters in the Gothic style. It will need students with ability and drive initially, but it is most certainly possible.

Patrons, another challenge for you: consider sponsoring a talented artist from your church to develop these skills through Writing the Light. You can read more at WritingtheLight.com.

What is the School of St Albans?

The School of St Albans is the style of English illumination in the late Romanesque and early Gothic period, particularly the work of the 13th-century monk Matthew Paris, based at St Albans Abbey in Hertfordshire, England. The style can be seen in manuscripts like the Westminster Psalter and in wall paintings that still survive in English churches.

This is a style that relies on the description of form with line, and is restrained in its use of tonal and color variation. These limitations help eliminate the sentimentality of naturalism, which is the blight of so many modern artists.

True to the Gothic spirit, by which classical sources were integrated into cultural expressions. Paris drew and painted not only sacred art for books like psalters and illustrations of the lives of saints, but also figures such as Plato and Socrates. He was also influenced by the renewed interest in the philosophy of Aristotle, and thus a keen observer of nature who drew many studies of plants and animals.

Why the School of St Albans?

When in discussing the reestablishment of beautiful sacred art in the Roman Catholic Church, part of what we have to think about is choosing a style from the past and using it as a starting point from which it is believed a characteristic style for today will emerge. Some look at the Baroque, some at iconography. My thought is that we look at this period. The suggestion for the name of the art of this period – the School of St Albans – originally came from a student in a class of mine over 10 years ago now.

My experience as a teacher is that Roman Catholics do seem to take to this style naturally and make it their own, even in a single class. You can see the work my students did in a past week-long workshop several years ago in this blog post.

When we studied images from this period, the students engaged with them much more readily – they liked them more than Eastern icons and seemed to understand them more instinctively. As a result, some quickly developed a feel for what they could change without straying outside the tradition they were working in. In contrast, most who had not seen it before found the style of Eastern icons slightly alien. In iconography classes, they had no instinctive sense of what they could change while remaining within the tradition. This meant we had to copy rigorously to avoid introducing errors. It was a bit like learning words in a language by rote, without understanding their meaning. This is not always such a bad thing – copying with understanding is an essential part of learning art – but at some point the student must apply his understanding in new ways. This latter point seemed to be reached more quickly by these Roman Catholic students when working in the Gothic style than in the iconographic style.

Can This Style Work on a Large Scale?

The style will be most familiar to readers as seen in illuminated manuscripts by Matthew Paris; generally, these are miniatures. Some have questioned whether this style would work on a large scale. I have always thought that it could be adapted to work on the walls of modern churches.

Original medieval wall paintings have been uncovered at St Albans Cathedral. I made a trip there to see them in 2018. The paintings are pale, but as we can see, they are done on a large scale and follow this same basic style – form described by line, with simple coloration. The photographs include St Amphibalus (a convert of St Alban) baptizing converts – note full immersion! – and Euclid and Herman the Dalmatian (a medieval philosopher), above.

Whether or not you are convinced that it is right to use this style today, we can certainly conclude that the artists of the period considered it appropriate for floor-to-ceiling frescoes (this church has a high ceiling). I would encourage patrons and artists to look at these and think about how they could reproduce this style in our churches. I think that it allows for large areas to be covered relatively easily and appropriately.

New Novel About the Latin Mass Reviving A Rural Parish

Bishop J. Donald Doherty was chuckling at the large map of his diocese that covered most of his desk, its parish churches marked by bright blue crosses, the parish boundaries by dotted blue lines, their schools and the diocesan high school by (of course) little red schoolhouses, the cemeteries by bright green crosses. Near the northern edge of his fief lay a lonely blue cross, circled by him, a moment ago, in heavy black ink. He pressed the intercom button on his phone.

“Ed, you remember that strange letter from those people calling themselves Saint—what was it? Ambrose? Aquinas?” Asking for the old Mass? I’m going to give them Forty Martyrs.”

“Don, you can’t do that—er, sorry.”

“Relax, Ed. Haven’t had so much fun in years. It’s perfect.”

~ ~ ~

Double doors with glass windows led into the nave, which was carpeted in surgical green, with brown spots scattered about, some bearing fresh bits of ceiling tile. Just inside the doors stood a wide concrete birdbath, evidently a combination baptismal font and stoup, with two small birds of the same material perched on the rim. The free-standing altar directly ahead bore a festive drape of pale blue satin, richly ornamented with vines and flowers. The tabernacle of indeterminate metal with abstract dove stood on a narrow shelf beyond it, flanked by thirsty-looking ferns in green plastic trugs.

“Fern bar,” Houghton commented brightly.

~ ~ ~

Few of his parishioners had ever heard of Septuagesima, he was sure. Sometimes he thought he knew how the Irish felt when they labored to restore Gaelic, or the Israelis when they revived Hebrew as a spoken language.

~ ~ ~

In her new novel Death Comes to Wyandotte, Elizabeth Altham has given us something all too rare in modern fiction: a deeply Catholic story that shines with the triumph of grace and grit over sin and cynicism. Instead of being dark, dark, dark (as so much new writing is), the story glimmers with hope and sparkles with humor.

In its pages, we follow the assignment of Fr. Hopkins and Fr. Houghton to a hideously constructed, dying parish in the boondocks, where the bishop is counting on the Latin Mass community to fail and fall apart. But that’s not what the Lord has in mind, who uses a variety of weak, strong, and volatile instruments to accomplish His purpose, in spite of every obstruction. “The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not.”

“It is no accident that Death Comes to Wyandotte calls to mind the great work of Willa Cather, because Elizabeth Altham’s splendid writing mirrors hers. Altham’s tragicomical account of two young priests navigating the debris of a post-conciliar church is a page-turner.” —Rev. John A. Perricone

“This is a true story—or should be—about two priests who must come to grip with the dying, both natural and unnatural, of persons. Much to the chagrin of the Church leaders, the salt-of-the-earth parishioners respond heartily to the old-fashioned manners of their new clergy, and support them in the greatest trauma of all.” —Duncan Stroik, Professor of Architecture, University of Notre Dame

“Wyandotte is about life well-lived by hardworking people in a midwestern rural parish run by two blessedly agreeable, hardworking priests.... The book delightfully fills that literary gap in your bookshelf reserved for ‘restoration of spirit.’” —Priscilla Smith McCaffrey, author of Christmas Blossoms

“Like Willa Cather, Elizabeth Altham channels the beauty of the Midwest into a quietly triumphant celebration of hope and faith.” —Maggie Gallagher, Executive Director, Benedict XVI Institute

Available in hardcover, paperback, or ebook, directly from the publisher, or from any Amazon site.

The Hours of Charles of Angoulême (Part 1)

Here is another wonderful discovery from the endless treasure trove of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, a book of Hours made forone Charles, count of the French city of Angoulême (1459-96), and the father of King Francis I (r. 1515-47). (BnF Lat. 1173) The book contains a large number of full and half-page images of extremely high quality, most of which are attributed to an artist named Robinet Testard (fl. 1470 - 1519). It also includes several engravings reproduced from works by a German printmaker, Israhel van Meckenem, which were colored in by Testard; these include a series of 12 images of the Passion, which I will post separately.

By the later 15th century, Books of Hours almost always included a set of four Gospel readings, one from each evangelist: John 1, 1-14, from the day Mass of Christmas; Luke 1, 26-38, from the feast of the Annunciation; Matthew 2, 1-12 from Epiphany; and Mark 16, 14-20 from the Ascension. Very often, each is introduced by its own picture of the corresponding evangelist, but here, they are all represented in one image by their traditional symbols, which surround Our Lord. Between them are the original four doctors of the Latin Church, and in the corners, the major prophets.

At the beginning of the Office of Our Lady is this image of the Annunciation. Note the arms of the kings of France on the reading desk, and on the altar, an image of Moses with the tablets of the Law.

The first page of the Office, with Our Lady dressed in blue and holding a prayer book, within the decorative initial.

A decorative page at the end of Lauds.

Books of Hours also routinely include two very brief Offices after that of the Virgin, one of the Cross, and another of the Holy Spirit. The former is introduced by this image of Our Lord as a child holding the Cross...

and the latter by this image of the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, set within a church; only eight of the twelve Apostles are included, so as to not make the space too crowded. (One of them is clearly identifiable as St James the Elder from his pilgrim hat.)

Matins of the Holy Spirit, with this beautiful image of the dove, and banderoles chained together with strings of beads, with several liturgical texts from Pentecost written on them.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Sexagesima Sunday 2026

Sexagesima (sixtieth) means “six times ten”, and thus, by six are understood the works of mercy, and by ten, the Decalogue... and just as the Lord, after working for six days, blessed the seventh, so after perfecting the works of the Decalogue, we will come to eternal blessedness, and He will say to us, “Come, ye blessed.” (Matthew 25, 31-46, the Gospel of the first Monday of Lent.)

Icon of the Last Judgment, 1640-41, by Franghias Kavertzas. In the Byzantine Rite, today is known as both Meatfare Sunday, from the custom that it is the last day on which meat may be eaten before the fast of Great Lent begins, or the Sunday of the Last Judgment, from the Gospel read at the Divine Liturgy. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

And therefore, on Sexagesima is read the Gospel, “When a very great multitude (was gathered together; Luke 8, 4-15)”, about the seed of the word of God, so that men may sow the works of mercy, in order to have that blessing. And because in most that seed is suffocated, therefore (the Church) cries out in the Introit, “Arise, why does thou sleep, o Lord?” But on the third Sunday (of Forelent), namely, on Quinquagesima, she shows by Whom she wishes to be freed, namely, by God, whence she says in the Introit, “Be thou unto me God and protector”; and because the Lord is near to all who call upon Him, that liberation follows on the next Sunday, whience she says in the Introit, “He will call upon me, and I will hear him.” For it is impossible that he not be freed, who through confession lays bare his sins, which are the griefs that lead to hell (mentioned in the Introit of Septuagesima), and grieves with a grief that makes satisfaction (for his sins), and asks to be free by the Lord. But, because sins separate a man from God, therefore in doubt he cries out (William Durandus, De Div. Off. VI, 26, 2-3) 

Arise, why dost Thou sleep, o Lord? Arise, and drive us not away forever; why dost Thou turn Thy face away, forgetting our tribulation? Our belly cleaveth to the earth; arise, O Lord, help us, and deliver us. Ps. 43 O God, our ears have heard, our fathers have declared to us. Glory be. As it was. Arise. (The Introit of Sexagesima Sunday.)

Exsurge, quare obdormis, Dómine? exsurge, et ne repellas in finem: quare faciem tuam avertis, oblivísceris tribulatiónem nostram? adháesit in terra venter noster: exsurge, Dómine, ádjuva nos, et líbera nos. Ps. 43 Deus, áuribus nostris audívimus: patres nostri annuntiavérunt nobis. Gloria Patri. Sicut erat. Exsurge.

The Feast of St Romuald

The incorrupt body of St Romuald was transferred to the church of St Blaise in the Italian city of Fabriano on February 7, 1481. When Pope Clement VIII added his feast to the general calendar in 1595, in the second edition of the Breviary of St Pius V, it was assigned to the anniversary of this translation, since the day of his death, June 19th, had been from very ancient times the feast of the Milanese martyrs Ss Gervase and Protase. On the calendar of the post-Conciliar Rite, he is kept on the latter date.

Born in the mid-10th century, an age in which religious life had in many places fallen into terrible decadence, Romuald became one of the great monastic reformers in an age of great reformers. The pattern of Benedictine monasticism which he created was formed by bringing together two different ways of life. The first of these was the traditional communal life, as practiced at the monastery of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe near Ravenna, in accord with the Cluniac reform. To this day, there stands right in the middle of the church’s nave the altar where St Romuald was praying, when Apollinaris, an early martyr buried therein, appeared to him in a vision, and confirmed his monastic vocation.

The second was the eremitical life, a tradition more focused on personal austerity, which he learned under a spiritual master named Marinus. Romuald’s biographer, St Peter Damian, describes Marinus as “a man of simple spirit... driven to the eremitical life only by the impulse of his good will,” while referring also to his “severity lacking in judgment.” The monastery founded by Romuald at Camaldoli near Arezzo would thus become the model for a rather loosely organized order, formerly divided into five separate congregations, in which the cenobitic and eremitical life were united.

In the year 1365, the Florentine painter Nardo di Cione executed an altarpiece for the chapel of St Romuald in the Camaldolese house in Florence, St Mary of the Angels. (He is better known today as the first painter of Dante’s Divine Comedy, including what was once an exceptionally vivid, though now much-ruined vision of Hell, in the Strozzi Chapel at Santa Maria Novella.) The central panel shows the Trinity, in the form known as the Mercy Seat, with St Romuald on the left, and St John the Evangelist on the right.

The Lamb of God, as described in the fifth and sixth chapters of the Apocalypse of St John, is represented at top, on the book with the seven seals.

On the left of the predella is shown the appearance of Saint Apollinaris to Romuald.

On the left part of the middle panel, Marinus is shown disciplining Romuald by hitting him in the face with a stick. St Peter Damian tells us that after enduring many such blows, Romuald humbly asked that Marinus might beat him on the right side of his face, since he was starting to loose his hearing on the left side. (Hence the reference to “severity lacking in judgment.”) On the right, Romuald overcomes the assaults of demons, like many great monks before him, such as St Anthony the Abbot.

On the right panel, the famous vision of St Romuald is depicted, in which he beholds a ladder by which monks in the white Camaldolese habit ascend to heaven, “in the likeness of the Patriarch Jacob”, as the Roman Breviary says.

“The Divine Services of the Orthodox Church with Commentary” - A New Liturgical Handbook for the Byzantine Rite

I am very happy to share news of the publication of a new handbook for the Byzantine Rite, entitled “The Divine Services of the Orthodox Church with Commentary”, authored by three priests and scholars of liturgical theology, Fr Joshua Genig PhD, Fr Lucas Christensen PhD, and Fr Patrick O’Grady PhD. The book is a comprehensive yet accessible catechetical resource, designed to guide both clergy and laity more deeply into the rich theology, symbolism, and spiritual meaning embedded in the Orthodox liturgical cycle, an Eastern hand missal, as it were, with rich catechetical commentary.

Key features include:

• Detailed explanations of each major service (Vespers, Matins, Divine Liturgy, Sacraments, and festal services)
• Patristic commentary integrated with practical pastoral insights
• Sections on how the liturgy forms the Christian life and combats modern secular distractions
• Beautiful liturgical texts, rubrics, and catechetical questions for group study or personal reflection
• Original translation of liturgical texts

The priests who authored it are eager to share this work as a tool for renewal in parishes and for inquirers seeking to understand the heart of Eastern Christian worship.

Among the other contributors to the project are some Roman or Byzantine Catholics, including Brendan Devine, Deacon Trevor Fernandes, and myself. (I wrote most of the essays in one part of the book, the section on the history and significance of the Twelve Great feasts.) Father Robert Taft, SJ, beatae memoriae, one of the great modern scholars of the Byzantine Rite, wrote an endorsement of the project. It is hoped that this book will help to bring about liturgical renewal in both East and West. The book has endorsements of three Orthodox Hierarchs.

The book may be purchased at the following links, in either full-color version or grayscale; all profits from the sale will go toward the priests in their ministry.

https://www.amazon.com/Divine-Services-Orthodox-Church-Commentary-Full/dp/B0GCYK7NJF

https://www.amazon.com/Divine-Services-Orthodox-Church-Commentary-Grayscale/dp/B0GCYJKNK8

“From its opening pages, this book unveils a treasury of wisdom, weaving together the beauty of our liturgical tradition, the depth of patristic theology, and the radiant hope of the Gospel. The authors have crafted a text that speaks not only to the mind but also to the heart, guiding readers toward a deeper communion with the Holy Trinity. Whether addressing the mysteries of the Eucharist, the sanctity of prayer, or the call to virtuous living, this work resonates with the apostolic zeal and pastoral care that define our Orthodox witness.

I am particularly moved by the book’s fidelity to the teachings of the Holy Fathers and its gentle invitation to all—clergy, monastics, and laity alike—to live more fully in the grace of our Lord. It is a rare gift to encounter a text that so harmoniously balances scholarly insight with spiritual warmth, making it an invaluable companion for the sacred liturgy and communal study.” — from a letter of endorsement by Metropolian Jakovos of Mexico, Exarch of Central America and the Carribbean Islands.

The Per quem haec omnia

Lost in Translation #159

In order to honor the 800th anniversary year of the passing of St Francis of Assisi, we interrupted our explication of the Ordinary of the Mass with several weeks dedicated to Francis’ Canticle of the Sun. That being complete, we now return to the Mass. Since our last entry was on the Nobis quoque peccatoribus, we turn now to the prayer in the Canon that follows it:

Per quem haec omnia, Dómine, semper bona creas, sanctíficas, vivíficas, benedícis, et praestas nobis.

Which I translate as:

Through Whom, O Lord, You forever create, sanctify, enliven, bless, and give all these good things to us.

Our first task is to determine the referents to the words “whom” (quem) and “all these” (haec omnia). The “whom” is easy, since the previous prayer ends with “Through Christ our Lord.” God the Father endlessly creates, sanctifies, enlivens, and blesses through His Son, the Word through whom all things are made. (John 1, 1) Or, to borrow the framework of St. Maximus the Confessor, in the Word (Logos) are all the little words (logoi) of creation, words that are the blueprints for each and every created thing. All creatures, then, are images and signs of the Divine Logos who loved them into existence.

The identity of “all these good things” is less clear. The preceding prayer, the Nobis quoque peccatoribus, asks for two good things, a part and a fellowship with fifteen named saints. But one does not normally think of a part and a fellowship as creatures. The newly consecrated Eucharist could be what the prayer has in mind, but only if we think first of (created) bread and wine that is then sanctified, enlivened, and blessed to become Christ’s Body and Blood.

Solving this puzzle requires a historical knowledge of the prayer. At this point of the Canon, the early Roman liturgy sometimes paused in order to have certain products of nature blessed, often in tandem with the liturgical year. For a solemn baptism, water, milk and honey were blessed; on St Stephen’s Day (December 26), fodder for cattle; on St John the Apostle’s Day (December 27), wine; on St Blaise’s Day (February 3), bread, wine, fruits, and seeds; on St Agatha’s Day (February 5), bread and water; on Easter Sunday, the “Easter lamb”; and on St Xystus’ Day (August 6), grapes. A residue of this custom remains in the Roman Rite when the bishop blesses the oil for the sick in the Holy Thursday Mass. [1]

The Per quem haec omnia, then, is most likely the unchanging conclusion to various blessings once used throughout the year. This in itself is significant, for by placing a blessing of creatures within the Canon, a link is established between the Eucharist and creation, and that link remains even when there is no particular blessing of a creature. As Jungmann eloquently puts it, “The Incarnation itself was the grand consecration of creation,” [2] for in the grand words of the Roman Martyrology on Christmas Eve:

In the sixth age of the world, while the whole earth was at peace, Jesus Christ, Himself Eternal God and Son of the Eternal Father, wishing to consecrate the world by His most merciful coming, having been conceived of the Holy Spirit, and when nine months were passed after His conception, was born of the Virgin Mary at Bethlehem of Juda, made Man, our Lord Jesus Christ was born according to the flesh.

The wording of the prayer is curious. God the Father, through His Son, does four things to “all these good things”: He creates them, sanctifies them, enlivens them, and blesses them. To underscore its meaning, the priest makes the sign of the cross three times during this prayer, when he says “sanctify,” “enliven,” and “bless” but not when he says “create.” Such is also the pattern in the Genesis account of creation, where God first creates and then blesses. And there is an additional mystical meaning. For St. Thomas Aquinas, the signs of the cross made during the Canon signify the different stages of the Passion. The three signs made here represent Christ’s threefold prayer on the Cross: “Father, forgive them,” “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” and “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.”[3]

The addition of “sanctify” and “enliven” may seem superfluous, but it introduces a “Pneumatological” (or Holy Spirit) dimension, thus acknowledging a Trinitarian role in creating and redeeming creation. Sanctification hearkens to when God blessed and sanctified the seventh day (Gen. 2, 3), while “enliven” (vivificas) is from the same word used to describe the Holy Spirit in the Nicene Creed, the Vivificans or Life-Giver.

William Durandus sees even more in the prayer:

And so, “You create” by founding nature, “You sanctify” by consecrating matter, “You enliven by transubstantiating creation, and “You bless” by increasing grace. Indeed, what is said about these things is simply a demonstration of the pronoun… “these things”—obviously, bread, wine, and water, He always creates good things according to primordial canonical causes. “You sanctify” according to sacramental causes; “You enliven,” that it may pass into Flesh and Blood; and “You bless,” that it may preserve unity and charity. [4]

Notes

[1]The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development, vol. 2 (New York: Benzinger Brothers, 1951), p. 260.

[2] See Jungmann, vol. 2, p. 263.

[3] Summa Theologiae III.85.5.ad 3.

[4] See William Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officionorum IV.46.9.

A New Album of Sacred Music from the Choir of St Martin of Tours

We are very glad to share this announcement from the shrine of St Martin of Tours in Louisville, Kentucky, of a new album of sacred music sung by their choir.

The Shrine of St Martin of Tours in downtown Louisville, Kentucky, is known for many blessed things, and especially for the beautiful liturgies celebrated within its walls and the quality of sacred music that resounds there to lift hearts to heaven and glorify God. The sacred music is led by the Choir of St Martin of Tours, a semi-professional choir comprising both volunteers and section leaders.

Thanks to the generosity of a member of the Shrine, this past year the Choir produced their first professionally recorded album, O Great Mystery, featuring several motets for the Advent and Christmas seasons as well as William Byrd’s Mass for Four Voices.

The album was recorded in the gorgeous acoustic of the Shrine, which features a six-second reverb. All of the music on the album was carefully prepared over several weeks, and regularly performed for Holy Mass both in the Ordinary Form and in the Extraordinary Form over the Advent and Christmas seasons.

We hope you will consider listening to the album on your preferred streaming service! The links are included below.

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7iMYbnzAArxC-hMCs6l-tA

Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/artist/the-choir-of-st-martin-of-tours/1755647524

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5xZhYLNRAhE0WFyVyIU30d?si=TqEoIgaXSdmCujvLGJBqEg&nd=1&dlsi=1c8efc7c7f014c69

For more information about the Shrine of St Martin of Tours, please visit our website, shrineofstmartin.org.

On New Revisions to the Carthusian Liturgy: Guest Article by Mr Calder Claydon

Our thanks to Mr Calder Claydon for sharing with us this account of some research he has been doing on the modern revisions of the Carthusian liturgical books. The pictures are all his, taken during a recent visit to the Charterhouse of St Hugh in Parkminster, England.

The Carthusian Rite has existed, in one form or another, since the very beginning of the order, as a liturgical Use of the Roman Rite separate from that which was codified later by Pope St Pius V. It was heavily influenced by the Use of the see of Grenoble, within whose territory order was founded. The first discussion of it as a separate Use was in the year 1142, when the 7th prior of the order, St Anthelme, instituted a General Chapter. This was the occasion on which the communities following the life and charism of Saint Bruno were united under the authority of the prior of the Grande Chartreuse, and uniformity was brought to the liturgies celebrated in the various charterhouses. It continued in use after the Tridentine reform of the Roman liturgy was promulgated; the last notable revision took place in 1687 at the request of the Sacred Congregation of Rites, but this merely concerned conformity with the text of the Vulgate.

After the Second Vatican Council, a new project of revisions began in 1981, significantly later than the rest of the Church, with the promulgation of a revised Missale Cartusiense, published by the Order itself. Further changes have been made including a revised English edition of the diurnale. In 2008, the Pleterje Charterhouse in Slovenia published an ad experimentum edition of this book, which had not yet received the Imprimatur of the (then) Congregation for Divine Worship.

In 2018, the Congregation for Divine Worship approved a new Calendarium ad usum Ordinis Cartusiensis, which was followed by a further revised edition of the missal in 2021, but without the imprimatur of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, in both Latin and English. In May 2026, a General Chapter will meet at the Grande Chartreuse in France where it is hoped that the final revisions will be approved by the Order, before being presented to the DDW for approval.

The rubrics of the 1981 and 2021 revised editions of the missal inevitably differ, given the forty years between them, but the language seen in the 2021 revising concerning the Roman Rite differs greatly to from that of the 1981 edition.

In the 1981 rubrics, the Roman Liturgy is mentioned three times.

“Patrum nostrorum erga sanctam Missam veneratio et reverentia iam ex eo apparent, quod Guigo noster in Consuetudinibus Cartusiæ apprime de Liturgia conventuali tractet: ubi plurimos usus, ad Missam celebrandam spectantes, nobis tradit. Cartusiensis celebrandi modus in decursu temporis paulatim evolutus est, dum Patres nostri haud pauca e vicinis ecclesiis vel monasteriis, et ulterius e Missali Romano, mutuarentur, ita tamen ut propria suæ vitæ generis indoles omnia quasi pervaderet.

The veneration and reverence of our Fathers towards the Holy Mass is already apparent from the fact that our Guigo, in his Consuetudines Carthusiae, deals particularly with the conventual Liturgy: where he gives us many uses pertaining to the celebration of the Mass. The Carthusian way of celebrating gradually developed over time, as our Fathers borrowed not a few things from neighboring churches or monasteries, and further from the Roman Missal; yet in such a way that the distinctive character of their own manner of life permeated almost everything.”

“Pro celebratione Sanctorum, calendarium nostrum, ad exemplar calendarii romani recognitum, universalitatem sanctitatis christiánæ, per regiones orbis et per tempora, in lucem ponit.

For the celebration of the Saints, our calendar, revised according to the model of the Roman calendar, brings to light the universality of Christian holiness, throughout the regions of the world and throughout time.”

“Novi textus praesertim e Missali Romano, simplicitatis ratione semper habita, desumpti sunt, vel aliquando e veteribus sacramentariis, vel e Sacra Scriptura.

The new texts have been taken primarily from the Roman Missal, always with due regard for simplicity, and at times from the old sacramentaries, or from Sacred Scripture.”

The language of the rubrics explicitly mentions the “Carthusian way of celebrating” as a separate form, with the Carthusian Missal borrowing from neighbouring monasteries and rites, and “further from the Roman Missal”. Furthermore, the rubrics speaks of how the revised Missal has also revised their conventual calendar according to the “model of the Roman Calendar”. Despite this, no mention, or implication, of the Carthusian Liturgy being a use or a form of the Roman Rite is made.

However, in the further revision in 2021, this language changes substantially.

“Ordo quoque Cartusiensis, ut Ecclesiæ voluntatem plenius adimpleret, sana traditio retineretur et tamen via legitimæ progressioni aperiretur, accurata investigatione peracta, proprii Missalis instaurationem perfecit secundum Concilii generales rationes prout in instaurato Missali Romano recipiuntur. Cum autem Cartusiensi Ordini proprii quidam usus sint, in hoc Missali nonnullæ particularitates inveniuntur.

The Carthusian Order, in order to fulfill the will of the Church more fully, to retain sound tradition and yet to open the way for legitimate progress, after careful investigation, completed the restoration of its own missal according to the general principles of the Council as they are received in the restored Roman Missal. However, since there are certain practices specific to the Carthusian Order, some particularities are found in this Missal.”

“Missale Cartusiense antiquam peculiarem formam celebrandi in gremio Ritus romani iugiter servat præbetque. Quapropter et hæc editio fundamenta in Institutione Generali Missalis Romani.

The Carthusian Missal constantly preserves and presents the ancient and special form of celebration within the fold of the Roman Rite. For this reason, this edition also has its foundations in the General Institution of the Roman Missal.”

“Quædam notæ distinctivæ huius instaurationis hæc sunt: a) Prex eucharistica aucta est copia præfationum necnon formulariis a Missali Romano receptis, ut peculiares partes mysterii salutis clarius patefierent, et uberior gratias agendi materia præberetur.

Some of the distinctive features of this restoration are: a) The Eucharistic Prayer has been increased in the number of prefaces and formularies taken from the Roman Missal, so that special parts of the mystery of salvation are more clearly revealed and richer material for giving thanks is provided.”

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Bl. Rabanus’ Hymn for the Purification Quod Chorus Vatum

In the Roman tradition, the feast kept on February 2nd was always known as the Purification of the Virgin Mary. Of course, it also commemorates the presentation of the Lord in the temple, which is why liturgical commentators of the Middle Ages such as our dear friend William Durandus often referred to it as a “double feast”. The Roman Office for it was always a mixture of parts proper to the feast, and others drawn from the common Office of the Virgin Mary, with the three hymns taken from the latter. But there were other traditions which mixed these elements differently; for example, in the use of Liège, the hymn for Lauds of Christmas, A solis ortus cardine, was sung at both Vespers.

Many medieval Uses have a hymn for Vespers, Quod chorus vatum, which was written by the Blessed Rabanus Maurus (780 ca. - 856), whose feast day is today. Among them is the Use of Sarum, (along with those of the Carmelites and Premonstratensians), which is why we have this lovely setting in alternating chant and polyphony by the famous English composer Thomas Tallis (1505-85). In the post-Conciliar Liturgy of the Hours, it was by some miracle incorporated into the feast without any of the usual cack-handed mangling of the text. The English translation below is the Anglican priest Thomas Alexander Lacey (1853-1913), and very cleverly keeps the meter of the original. The individual lines are too long for the side-by-side tables which I normally use for hymns.

Quod chorus vatum venerandus olim,
Spiritu Sancto cecinit repletus,
In Dei factum genitrice constat
   Esse Maria.

Hæc Deum cæli Dominumque terræ
Virgo concepit peperitque virgo,
Atque post partum meruit manere
   Inviolata.

Quem senex Iustus Simeon in ulnis
In domo sumpsit Domini, gavisus:
Ob quod optatum meruit videre
   Lumine Christum.

Tu libens votis, petimus, precantum
Regis æterni genitrix, faveto,
Clara quæ cæli renitens Olympi
   Regna petisti.

Sit Deo nostro decus et potestas,
Sit salus perpes, sit honor perennis,
Qui poli summa residet in arce,
   Trinus et Unus. Amen.

All prophets hail thee, from of old announcing,
By the inbreathèd Spirit of the Father,
God’s Mother, bringing prophecies to fullness,
   Mary the maiden.

Thou the true Virgin Mother of the Highest,
Bearing incarnate God in awed obedience,
Meekly acceptest for a sinless offspring
   Purification.

In the high temple Simeon receives thee,
Takes to his bent arms with a holy rapture
That promised Saviour, vision of redemption,
   Christ long awaited.

Now the fair realm of Paradise attaining,
And to thy Son’s throne, Mother of the Eternal,
Raisèd all glorious, yet in earth’s devotion
   Join with us always.

Glory and worship to the Lord of all things
Pay we unresting, who alone adorèd,
Father and Son and Spirit, in the highest
   Reigneth eternal. Amen.

The Good News and Bad News of African Catholicism

The following essay was published on January 2 by Jozef Duháček at the Slovak website Christianitas and is given here in translation, with permission.—PK

Catholic priest celebrates Mass in Kenya

When you study history, it often happens that what you thought was a historical fact turns out to be just a story with no basis in reality. For example, many Americans grew up believing that the Boston Tea Party took place because the colonists disagreed with the tax imposed on tea by the British government. However, I recently discovered that all the tea was dumped into the sea in Boston in protest against the British government’s plan to subsidize the East India Tea Company and grant it a monopoly in the colonies, with the aim of making British tea cheaper than that which Boston merchants imported from India. The tea party was not a protest against expensive tea, but an act of protectionism against cheap tea. The story of the protest against the British tea tax was just a widespread narrative—and a completely reversed one at that.

Boston Tea Party

Another widespread false historical narrative is that in the Middle Ages, people believed that the earth was flat and that it was Galileo and Columbus who proved that this was not the case. This is a simple, blatant lie. Ancient Greek scholars (Aristotle, Eratosthenes) already knew that the Earth was round, and Eratosthenes even calculated its diameter with relative accuracy (he was off by about 10 percent). The fact that the Earth is round was taught at medieval universities, and the lie about the flat Earth dates back to the 19th century as part of an effort to discredit the Catholic Church.

Another false story says that Marie Antoinette told the French people that if they had no bread, they should eat cake. This is also a complete lie. There is no evidence that she said this, and it was attributed to her during the revolution as propaganda to justify her execution. Many history textbooks mindlessly repeat this story in order to discredit the old regime and glorify the atrocities of the revolution.

History is full of such narratives, and the older we get, the better we are at exposing them. Narratives are repeated, but they are never substantiated. They are used as evidence in other discussions, but they are rarely the subject of discussion themselves. They are convenient, providing an easy sense of certainty without effort (the truth, on the contrary, requires patience, diligence, and careful sifting through details). Narratives are often nested within each other like Russian matryoshka dolls, with smaller narratives forming the building blocks of larger ones, until a monumental edifice of fiction is created, where the individual parts reinforce each other and hold the whole structure together.

A beautiful example of such a construction is the so-called Black Legend, which describes the atrocities committed by the Spanish in the New World. It originated in England and the Netherlands as a propaganda attack by Protestants on the Catholic Spanish Empire. It contains a number of lies, here and there developed from facts taken out of context, which were intended to portray the Spaniards as extremely cruel colonizers, fanatical inquisitors, and racially and culturally backward tyrants.

Perhaps no event in Catholic history has generated as many narratives as the Second Vatican Council. From claims such as “the new lectionary contains more of the Holy Scriptures” to “Eucharistic Prayer II comes from the earliest days of the Church,” decades of fabricated myths have been woven to justify the reforms of the Council and explain the obvious demographic decline. One such widespread myth is: “Although the Church in the West is in crisis, the reforms of the Council have been successful in Africa! Catholicism is flourishing in Africa! The African Church has many vocations, is missionary, and is growing promisingly.” This is what “Catholic” portals, newspapers, and dailies tell us, and many of us believe it without bothering to seek any proof.

Second Vatican Council

In 2023, in an episode of his show “Word on Fire,” Bishop Barron responded to two articles by Ross Douthat in the New York Times about the Second Vatican Council and its failure as follows: Argument No. 1: Blaming the Second Vatican Council for the decline of Catholicism in the West is a logical fallacy known as “post hoc, ergo propter hoc.” Argument No. 2: The growth of the Church in Africa after the Second Vatican Council is due to that very council.

It is not difficult to see that Msgr. Barron is guilty of the same logical fallacy of which he accuses Douthat and others. Nevertheless, this oft-repeated argument about Africa deserves closer examination, as it is one of the great myths of our time.

To be honest, any examination of the state of Catholicism in the “global south” must include the fact that, although Catholicism is growing in absolute numbers due to population growth, Protestant and Pentecostal sects are growing much faster in percentage terms—and tragically attracting many former Catholics into their ranks. This does not sound like an indisputable “success story.”

It is noteworthy that the growth of Catholicism in Africa was proportionally much higher before 1970, i.e., at the end of the so-called “Tridentine” period. The conclusion is inevitable: if the Second Vatican Council was intended not only to preserve the status quo of the 1950s, but also to launch a new evangelization and missionary expansion, then it has failed in Africa.

What we see in the claims about the excellent state of African Catholicism—a myth that is refuted by the facts—is very similar to what we see in almost every discussion about the successes of Vatican II or liturgical reform: an enormous willingness to ignore evidence or perhaps even distort the truth—for ideological reasons.

In Africa, which is very often presented as a showcase for the “successes of Vatican II,” the number of Catholics receiving the sacraments per 1,000 inhabitants has fallen by half since the Council until 2015, as statistics from religionnews.com show: “More Catholics, fewer receiving sacraments: A new report maps a changing church.”

In 1900, Catholics made up 2% of Africa’s population. By the Second Vatican Council, this proportion had risen to 13%. After the Council, the number of Catholics rose to about 18% (according to the World Christian Database), while Protestants doubled their share from 15% to 29% during the same period. The increase in the number of “Catholics” is mainly due to the fact that the population has tripled in absolute terms. In other words, the growth after the Second Vatican Council is mainly due to higher fertility rates and not to conversions or evangelization. In the first 70 years of the 20th century, the number of African Catholics increased sixfold. In the 60 years since the Council, it has only grown by half. What caused this change? Would it have been “worse without the Council,” as the usual phrase goes?

This topic is addressed in a book published by Os Justi Press entitled Is African Catholicism a “Vatican II Success Story”?. This concise book, which brings together contributions by four authors, effectively challenges this narrative by referring to history, liturgy, and common sense.

The well-known claim that Catholicism is flourishing in Africa—that it is the only continent where Vatican II has borne rich fruit—is not consistent with the available data and descriptions, as shown by the reports of the late George Neumayr from Ivory Coast. Moreover, a Nigerian seminarian analyzes the harmful inculturation imposed on Africans by racially stereotyping European liturgists. Claudio Salvucci asks critical questions about the so-called Zairean rite based on Congolese history, and Peter Kwasniewski evaluates the evangelizing potential of preconciliar faith, life, and worship. In Africa, as elsewhere, traditional Catholicism won over entire nations and stimulated enormous cultural creativity. However, under the reign of the new ecclesiology, new ecumenism, and new liturgy of progressive Western intellectuals, more and more people are turning to Protestant sects and uprooted secularism.

It was Neumayr’s articles on this topic in the American Spectator magazine that brought this issue to the forefront of a broader discussion. Neumayr had long questioned the African narrative and traveled to Ivory Coast, one of the most Catholic regions in Africa, to find out the true state of Catholicism there. Unfortunately, Neumayr fell ill and died in Africa in 2023. Only a few of his essays have been published so far, which can be found in this book and are an excellent introduction to the question of African Catholicism. On January 13, 2023, Neumayr posted this comment on social media: “As Freemasons grew stronger in Ivory Coast, they were condemned not by Catholic bishops, but by Pentecostal preachers. (Catholic) bishops only criticized them weakly, out of fear after it came to light that they had allowed the head of the lodge to receive Holy Communion.”

In his final weeks, he published a series of articles in The American Spectator that are instructive, albeit depressing, and testify to the decline of Catholicism in Ivory Coast and the many parallels with other parts of post-conciliar Africa. Neumayr was a man of keen observation, and he wittily shows that Catholicism in Ivory Coast is very, very far from its heyday. Neumayr effortlessly introduces foreigners to the issues of contemporary African culture and liturgical life through an interesting travelogue. His visit to Ivory Coast, especially its capital city, offers a valuable insight into the decline caused by the post-colonial situation. We learn that the rule of Western states (whatever its shortcomings) was not the only stabilizing factor that has been removed over the past seventy years. The ancient Roman liturgy, which once evangelized and united these countries, has been replaced by a rite that has become a source of division owing to the multitude of local dialects; speakers are humiliated when this or that dialect, not their own, is chosen as the language of celebration for a particular Mass.

The longest contribution to the book is by an anonymous African seminarian who discusses in detail the problems of inculturation in Africa. His section is extremely instructive and reveals the failures of inculturation.

As this seminarian shows, the enormous fragmentation is further exacerbated by the political progressivism of many parish priests who promote socialism from the pulpit and allow heresy to flourish in their communities. One of the officially tolerated forms of heresy, as the seminarian explains, is liturgical inculturation, which has been spreading in Africa since the Second Vatican Council. Based on numerous scholarly sources, he explains how inculturation differs from adaptation, which was a healthy way in which the Church once integrated its liturgical rites into the healthy aspects of a culture. It is worth noting that the idea of an “inculturated” African liturgy did not originate with Africans themselves, but with European experts who speculated on what would best suit their African brothers.

One of the most interesting reflections in the book comes from this essay, where the author rejects the idea that liturgy in indigenous languages can save those languages:

Latin has never been a threat to the Igbo language, but English is. And this is not because English is taught in school or sometimes used in the church, but principally because Igbo is no longer spoken in many Igbo homes, no longer the mother tongue; making it the liturgical language does not help. The English language may indeed threaten the identity of the Igbo people, but post- Christian Western values, torn as it were from God and from the natural law, pose a mortal and infernal danger. A largely sentimental revitalization of traditional Igbo customs and its incorporation into the liturgy stand little chance in stemming the surging and sophisticated onslaught of the decadent West. (p. 67)

This section is indeed very interesting and is complemented by chapters by Claudio Salvucci, which describe what the adaptation of the liturgy before the Council looked like in practice. Salvucci writes about the Catholic Kingdom of Congo and points out that efforts to inculturate a kind of constructed “paradisiacal” African heritage actually ignore the real history of African Catholicism and erase the very heritage that we claim to want to respect. Unlike the modern “Zairean rite,” which includes ceremonies that were never part of traditional African Catholic culture, the Mass in the presence of the King of Congo had several elements that organically integrated his royal role into the liturgy—without violating a single prescribed rubric of the Mass. Salvucci asks: “How can we speak of the inviolability of non-Catholic customs and demand their preservation in the Church when at the same time we discard our own native Catholic customs and culture?”

Unfortunately, this is exactly what has happened in Africa over the past 70 years, and the alleged fruits of these changes do not correspond to the simple narrative we have all heard—namely, that “the Church in Africa has experienced a genuine renaissance since the Council!” On the contrary, as the Nigerian seminarian and Dr. Peter Kwasniewski clearly show in graphs depicting quantitative data, the pace of growth on the continent has slowed dramatically since 1970, even though the number of Catholics continues to increase due to population growth. This change cannot be fully explained by secularization, as the growth rate of Protestant sects is increasing while that of Catholicism is declining.

Kwasniewski describes the unifying power of the old Mass, whose homogeneity and rituality have brought millions of Africans to Catholicism in past centuries. The revival of the old Mass in several places on the continent gives great hope for its spread in the future, so that the important task of cultural adaptation and flourishing can continue unhindered. Kwasniewski recalls that Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre was a missionary in Africa from 1932 to 1959, and under his leadership, Catholicism spread extensively in the regions of Africa for which he was responsible. These included twelve archdioceses, thirty-six dioceses, and thirteen Italian apostolic prefectures.

As elsewhere in the world, Africans were denied something that was already a precious part of their Catholic heritage. Several thriving parishes with traditional Latin Masses in Africa, particularly in Nigeria and Gabon, suggest that African Catholics would perhaps flock to these Masses if they were more accessible. Their inaccessibility cannot therefore be used as an argument against their appeal or power.

Another significant problem that the proponents of the success story of Vatican II in Africa tactfully conceal is the shameless mixing of pagan practices into Catholic liturgy and faith.

Rev. Edwin Ezeokeke, a doctoral student in systematic theology at the John Paul II Catholic University in Lublin, wrote a thesis entitled Theological Analysis of Syncretic and Pagan Beliefs and Customs in Catholic Funerals in Igboland, Nigeria, in which he lists a number of animistic rituals and beliefs that tarnish the beautiful image of the African Church. He concludes his thesis with the words:

Many people in Igboland are Catholics but Catholic faith and the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ especially his teachings on death and resurrection are yet to take deep root in their lives. This is why many Catholic faithful incorporate lots and lots of pagan practices and beliefs in the Catholic burials and funerals. Many see this as inculturation. But as I have said above, inculturation is never and will never be syncretism. They are two different things with totally different meanings. Inculturation is recommended for evangelization. It entails a sincere and honest appreciation of the dimensions of other cultures in so far it does not alter the main essence of the Church’s identity. Syncretism alters the main essence and meaning of the Church’s identity. This is exactly what the above pagan practices do to Catholic Church in Igboland especially as it concerns her burial and funeral rites. These practices completely alter the entire essence and meaning of the Catholic burials and funerals.

Der Spiegel magazine published an article by Thilo Thielke entitled “Christianity in Africa: Jesus in the Morning, Voodoo in the Evening,” in which he vividly describes how animism mixes with the Christian faith. In the text, he quotes voodoo shaman John Odeh:

“Christianity has destroyed our culture. The people have lost faith in our ancient gods and values,” the animist priest laments. Ape skulls, amulets and shells are laid out on the concrete floor of the adjacent garage. Figures of Ogun, the god of iron, Orunmila, the god of wisdom, and Olokun, the god of waters, adorn this unusual shrine. Osalobua, the supreme God, punishes theft swiftly and without mercy, says Odeh. And the dead hear every lie told by the living. “The pastors go to church in the morning and preach Christianity,” says the voodoo priest. “And in the evening they come to me and speak with their forefathers.”

I personally heard the testimony of a priest from France, where the shortage of local priests is being remedied by importing priests from former African colonies. This priest said that Africans first celebrate a new Mass in the church and then spend the whole evening drumming and chanting their pagan rituals in the rectory. “But without the Council, it would probably have been worse…” (!).

However, the overall message of this introductory book is very positive. Perhaps it will open the door to further study of the Church in Africa, as it would be helpful to see an even stronger emphasis on demography.

Mark Twain once said, “The trouble with the world is not that people know too little; it’s that they know so many things that just aren’t so.” This book is an excellent response to those who “know so many things that simply are not true” about Africa. The book Is African Catholicism a “Vatican II Success Story”? can be obtained from Os Justi Press or from any Amazon outlet.