Centenary Exposition of St Francis of Assisi’s Relics

This year, the Church marks the 8th centenary of the death of St Francis of Assisi, which happened in the later evening of October 3rd, 1226. As part of the celebrations, his relics have been removed from his tomb, and exposed for the veneration of the faithful; they were placed before the altar of the lower church of the great basilica at Assisi this past Sunday, and will remain there until March 22nd. As noted in passing in this video from Rome Reports, the precise location of the remains was unknown for centuries; they were rediscovered in December of 1818 after nearly two months of exploratory digging.

In the YouTube archive of the old newsreel company British Pathé, I found this video (without soundtrack) of an event of the 7th centenary, a visit to Assisi by Cardinal Merry del Val, then serving Pope Pius XI as the Secretary of the Holy Office. In those days, it was still considered wholly inappropriate to film or photograph the Mass, and so the footage is all of the comings and goings outside the basilica, including part of a solemn procession. (At about 1:20, a cleric in biretta and surplice who is acting as MC for the procession looks at the camera, and seems just about to smile when the shot cuts away.)

St Peter Damian on Liturgical Prayer

St Peter Damian died on the feast of St Peter’s Chair, February 22, in the year 1072, a very appropriate day for one who spent so much of his life in service to the Church and to the Holy See. His feast was extended to the general calendar in 1828 by Pope Leo XII, who also made him a Doctor of the Church, and assigned to the day after his death; in the calendar of the post-Conciliar rite, St Polycarp of Smyrna was moved to February 23rd, his date in the Byzantine Rite, and so St Peter was moved to the 21st.

The Madonna and Child with Ss Anne, Elizabeth, Augustine and Peter Damian, by Ercole Roberti, 1479-81. Executed for the church of Santa Maria in Porto outside Ravenna, now in the Brera Gallery in Milan.

The revised Butler’s Lives of the Saints describes Peter Damian very well as “one of those stern figures who seem specially raised up, like St John the Baptist, to recall men in a lax age from the error of their ways and to bring them back into the narrow path of virtue.” He was born in the early years of the 11th century, an age in which the Church in western Europe lay very low indeed. Lay control of ecclesiastical offices and the attendant vice of simony were rampant, and the discipline of clerical celibacy was widely ignored; the years of his youth also saw the appalling spectacle of Pope Benedict IX, whom St Robert Bellarmine called “the nadir” of the Papacy. It is perhaps difficult to for us even imagine the career of this man, who was temporarily driven off the Papal throne by violence for his personal immorality, reinstated, then sold the Papacy (see note below), attempted to take it back, and was deposed again by the Holy Roman Emperor.

However, even the darkest days of the Church’s history are not without their Saints. As France gave Her the abbey of Cluny, which was ruled by six Saints in a row over a 190 year period, to pave the way for reform, Italy saw a new flourishing of strict and reform-minded monastic orders in the 11th century, led by St Romuald, the founder of the Camaldolese Order, and St John Gualbert, the founder of the Vallombrosians. It was among these communities that Peter Damian was formed as a religious, and was called to serve as abbot of an important Camaldolese house at Fonte Avellana.

It is often darkest before the dawn; after the deposition of Benedict IX and the extremely brief (24 day) reign of Damasus II, the Papal throne was occupied by Leo IX (1049-54), an active and enthusiastic reformer, now canonized as a Saint. From this time, the reform party within the Church was very much in the ascendant, with St Peter Damian as one of its most powerful leaders and spokesmen. In 1057, Pope Stephen IX made him the Cardinal-Bishop of Ostia, to which office it then belonged to crown the Pope, but he was later released from this position at his own request by Pope Alexander II. He continued to serve as a Papal legate and ambassador, and to write a great deal by way of exhortation to the clergy at all levels to a stricter and more disciplined life. Two particularly famous example of his severity are his rebuke to the canons of Besançon in France for sitting down during the Divine Office (!), although he was willing to allow this during the lessons of Matins, and to the bishop of Florence for playing a game of chess.

King Otto IV of Brandenburg indulges in frivolity. (From the Codex Manesse, 1305-13; public domain image from Wikipedia)

In his large body of writings, three of his letters were regarded as especially important treatises for the reformers of the age, and circulated widely as “books.” The “Liber gratissimus” treats of the problem of simony, which he condemns in the harshest possible terms. (“Judas sold the Lord, … but soon thereafter cast away the price of blood… you, on the other hand, … keep the profit from the sacrilege you commit.”) The “Liber gomorrhianus” treats of the worst aspects of sexual immorality among the clergy. The third is known by the odd title “Liber ‘Dominus vobiscum’ ”, and is of particular interest in the field of liturgical history.

It was addressed to a monk and hermit named Leo, who had written to St Peter to inquire whether he ought to say “The Lord be with you” and “Pray, lord, give the blessing” when saying the Divine Office alone in his cell. St Peter’s answer is argued at length and with great thoroughness, but what it really boils down to is “the liturgy is not about you.” Since it is the public prayer of the Church, which is made of many members and yet One in the Holy Spirit, the liturgy may rightly speak in the singular in choir (he cites Psalms such as “Incline to me Thy ear, o Lord” and “I will bless the Lord at all times”), and in the plural when celebrated by only one. He also notes, perhaps more persuasively, that a very large part of the Divine Office is said in the plural, invitatories such as “Come, let us worship the Lord”, hymns such as “Rising in the night let us all keep watch” etc.; so much, in fact, that to switch it to the singular in private prayer would mean to either omit most of it or mutilate it.

(Note: The man who bought the Papacy from Benedict IX was his godfather, an archpriest named John Gratian, who did so for the worthiest of motives, namely, to get Benedict out of the way; as Pope he was called Gregory VI. Although he was deposed for this act of simony, he was held in such high regard that almost 30 years later, when St Gregory VII was elected, certainly no laxist in matters of Church discipline, he chose his Papal name in John Gratian’s honor.)

The First Sunday of Lent 2026

Here is a very interesting recording of the Tract for the First Sunday of Lent by the French ensemble Dialogos, with only female voices. The verses Scapulis suis and Scuto circumdabit are omitted; at A sagitta, it veers off into some really nice polyphonic effects, and then resumes the Gregorian. The verses In manibus and Super aspidum are also omitted.

He that dwelleth in the aid of the most High, shall abide under the protection of the God of Jacob. V. He shall say to the Lord: Thou art my protector, and my refuge: my God, in him will I trust. V. For he hath delivered me from the snare of the hunters: and from the sharp word. [V. He will overshadow thee with his shoulders: and under his wings thou shalt trust. V. His truth shall compass thee with a shield: thou shalt not be afraid of the terror of the night.] V. Of the arrow that flieth in the day, of the business that walketh about in the dark: of ruin, or of the noonday devil. V. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand: but it shall not come nigh thee. V. For he hath given his angels charge over thee; to keep thee in all thy ways. [V. In their hands they shall bear thee up: lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. V. Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk: and thou shalt trample under foot the lion and the dragon.] V. Because he hoped in me I will deliver him: I will protect him because he hath known my name. V. He shall call upon me, and I will hear him: I am with him in tribulation, I will deliver him, and I will glorify him. V. I will fill him with length of days; and I will show him my salvation. (Psalm 90, 1-7 and 11-16)

Tractus Qui hábitat in adjutorio Altíssimi, in protectióne Dei caeli commorábitur. V. Dicet Dómino: Susceptor meus es tu et refugium meum: Deus meus, sperábo in eum. V. Quoniam ipse liberávit me de láqueo venantium et a verbo áspero. V. Scápulis suis obumbrábit tibi, et sub pennis ejus sperábis. V. Scuto circúmdabit te véritas ejus: non timébis a timóre nocturno. V. A sagitta volante per diem, a negotio perambulante in ténebris, a ruína et daemonio meridiáno. V. Cadent a látere tuo mille, et decem milia a dextris tuis: tibi autem non appropinquábit. V. Quoniam Angelis suis mandávit de te, ut custodiant te in ómnibus viis tuis. V. In mánibus portábunt te, ne umquam offendas ad lápidem pedem tuum. V. Super áspidem et basiliscum ambulábis, et conculcábis leónem et dracónem. V. Quoniam in me sperávit, liberábo eum: prótegam eum, quoniam cognóvit nomen meum. V. Invocábit me, et ego exaudiam eum: cum ipso sum in tribulatióne. V. Eripiam eum et glorificábo eum: longitúdine diérum adimplébo eum, et ostendam illi salutáre meum.

While we’re at it, here’s a very good recording of the Gradual which precedes the Tract, with repetition of the first part, by the Consortium Vocale.

He hath given his angels charge over thee; to keep thee in all thy ways. V. In their hands they shall bear thee up: lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. (Psalm 90, 11-12)

Graduale Angelis suis Deus mandávit de te, ut custódiant te in ómnibus viis tuis. V. In mánibus portábunt te, ne umquam offéndas ad lápidem pedem tuum.

Durandus on the Saturday after Ash Wednesday

Our friend Durandus’ commentary on the Masses of the three days after Ash Wednesday explains that they treat of prayer (Thursday), fasting (Friday), and almsgiving (Saturday) respectively. The section for today (book VI, 31) is fairly obscure, and my translation is really more of a paraphrase.  

On Saturday, the Church treats of almsgiving and of the Sabbath (Latin ‘sabbatum’), because by the three things aforementioned, namely, prayer, fasting and almsgiving, one comes to the Sabbath rest, (Latin ‘sabbatismus’), where the satisfaction for sin has been made, and peace comes together with the Sabbath rest. Wherefore the epistle (Isaiah 58, 9-14), which begins with the words, “If thou wilt take away the chain that is in thy midst”, goes on to say, “thou shalt call the Sabbath delightful.”

The Gospel (Mark 6, 47-56) says the same thing, where it speaks of the disciples laboring upon the sea. who signify those who are penitent. The Lord gets into the ship with them, and the sea is immediately calmed, for when the Lord is present in a man’s heart, his soul is made peaceable, and he becomes calm. ... Today we fast, that we may come to the Sabbath of eternal rest.

Christ Walking on the Water, depicted in a Gospel book known as the Codex Egberti, made at the abbey of Reichenau for Egbert, bishop of Trier from 980-93; now kept in the Trier city library. Most depictions of this episode are based on the Matthaean parallel of today’s Gospel, (chapter 14, 22-33), which is read on the octave day of Ss Peter and Paul, and tells of St Peter walking towards Christ over the water, then hesitating, and being rescued.  

Medieval Art and Liturgical Objects at the Musée de Cluny in Paris (Part 4)

This is the fourth post in our series of Nicola’s photographs of an exhibition recently held at the Musée de Cluny in Paris, titled “The Middle Ages of the 19th Century - Creations and Fakes in the Fine Arts”. In this post we focus on liturgical objects of various kinds, both original medievals works and modern ones inspired by them.

This object made of gilded silver, decorated with pearls and enamels, which depicts St George killing a dragon, was left to the Louvre by the previous owner in 1901 and catalogued as a kind of pax brede, attributed to a German artist named Hans Fuog, and dated to the year 1453, according to an inscription on the back. In reality, it is composite, partly made in the 15th century, partly from various piece (the base, the feet and the upper section) created in the 19th.

A portable altar, also a composite work, with several ivory plaques depicting the Twelve Apostles, and dated to the 10th to 12th centuries, mounted in a 19th century frame made of oak, gilded copper, ivory, enamel and porphyry.

Two French pax bredes made from the same model in the 15th or 16th century.

An incense boat made in the first half of the 19th century in Paris (below), and the model which inspired it, made in Siena ca. 1350-75.

A pair of liturgical gloves made in France in the 19th century, inspired by various kinds of medieval models.

An abbatial crook made in Italy towards the end of the 18th century or beginning of the 19th, with a lion made of boxwood on top, and a scene depicting an ordination on the ivory piece below it.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Durandus on the Friday after Ash Wednesday

On the previous day, Durandus explains that the Masses of the three days after Ash Wednesday treat of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving respectively.

The liturgy of Friday is about fasting, and shows what kind of fast is pleasing to God, namely, that which is spiritual, not carnal. For this reason the epistle (Isaiah 58, 1-9) says, “Cry out, cease not... why have we fasted, and Thou hast not regarded?” And the Lord answered, “Is this such a fast as I have chosen, (for a man to afflict his soul for a day), or wind his head about like a circle?” (vs. 5), as if to say, Such a fast does not please me, that a man should torment himself, but rather, that he should loose the bands of wickedness (vs. 6), that is, abstain from every sin, which is done through charity. From this follows the Gospel (Matthew 5, 43 - 6, 4), “You have heard that it was said, ‘Thou shalt love they neighbor.’ ”, which treats of charity. (William Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, VI, 30)

An image from the Paris Psalter, a decorated psalter made in Constantinople in the mid-10th century, now at the Bibliothèque national de France in Paris. On the left side stands the personification of night, and in the middle, the prophet Isaiah, with the personification of the early morning, represented as a small child carrying a torch, in front of him as he looks up to God. This refers to one of the canticles from his book, chapter 26, 9-20, which is sung at Orthros in the Byzantine Rite, and Sunday Matins in the Ambrosian Rite.

A Prayer from Ash Wednesday

The Torment of St. Anthony, Michelangelo

Lost in Translation #161

I cannot resist the temptation to take a brief hiatus from our examination of the Ordinary of the Mass to mull upon a remarkable prayer from the Blessing of Ashes. After all have received their ashes on Ash Wendesay, the priest prays:

Concéde nobis, Dómine, praesidia militiae christiánae sanctis inchoáre jejuniis: ut contra spiritáles nequitias pugnatúri continentiae muniámur auxiliis. Per Christum Dóminum nostrum.

Which I translate as:

Grant to us, O Lord, to take up our positions in Christian warfare with holy fasts: that, as we do battle with spiritual evils, we may be protected by the help of self-denial. Through Christ our Lord.

Although this prayer is also in the 1970 Missal, spiritual combat is not a favorite theme among more progressive Catholics, who disdain this imagery as too aggressive or bellicose. And yet, spiritual combat is no mere metaphor: it is a reality sown into the DNA of Christian life. It is an essential part of St. Paul’s theology, (see Eph. 6, 11; 12) and it features prominently in the writings of the Church Fathers and medieval Doctors, such as St. Augustine and St. Hildegard of Bingen (and yes, women are called to be spiritual “shield-maidens,” as Tolkien might say, as well).

The Conversion of St. Augustine, Fra Angelico

It is curious that the 1970 Missal retains a reference to our “holy fasts,” since the mandatory Fast was eliminated in 1966, and since the Novus Ordo makes no reference to fasting in its other orations during Lent. The 1962 Missal, on the other hand, prays for a holy fast almost every day of the week in its prayers.

The Collect asks that we may be protected from spiritual evils by the help of continentia, which is usually translated as “self-denial.” Continentia entails self-denial, but it is more. On the verge of his conversion, St. Augustine prayed for “chastity and continence, but not yet,” afraid of giving up the dirty little pleasures with which he had grown so comfortably accustomed. (Conf. 8.7.17) Continence is a regaining of mastery over self, an ability to be self-contained (with God’s grace, of course) over the tug of the appetites; it is more self-control than self-denial. The 2011 ICEL translation comes admirably close when it translates continentia as “self-restraint.”

Finally, according to the economy of the prayer, continence becomes a defensive weapon against demonic assault, a shield or an armor. We enter into the Great Fast, as the Preface of Lent declares, to “curb our vices, elevate our minds, and bestow virtue and reward.” And in the words of the Secret for the First Sunday of Lent, we solemnly offer God “the sacrifice of the beginning of Lent, beseeching [Him], that by refraining from flesh at our meals, we may refrain from harmful pleasures.” In other words, we refrain from licit pleasures (regardless of what PETA tells you, there is nothing wrong with consuming the flesh of a warm-blooded animal) in order to take charge over pleasures that lean into the illicit (gluttonous habits, etc.). Such is the power of continence for which we pray as we enter into the annual Boot Camp of spiritual combat.

Sacred Music Study Day in Menlo Park, California, April 18

On Saturday, April 18th, St Patrick’s Seminary in Menlo Park, California, will host the third annual Sacred Music Study Day – co-sponsored with the Archdiocese of San Francisco and the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music – drawing together singers from all over northern California for an all-day Catholic choral festival.

The event features:

• Two tracks for singers: advanced or beginner/intermediate
• Rehearsals featuring music you can take home to your congregations: a Mass ordinary, Eucharistic hymns, approachable and beautiful choral music
• The opportunity to learn music we can sing together at Mass
• Tips on teaching/learning note-reading in rehearsals
• Workshops offering tips on developing and teaching healthy vocal technique
• Solemn Mass, sung by participants, celebrated by His Excellency, Salvatore J. Cordileone, Archbishop of San Francisco
• Catechesis on the role of sacred music in the spiritual life
• An opportunity to go to confession
• Lunch, refreshments, and fellowship with area musicians

The event is designed especially for parish music directors, parish choir members, cantors and clergy; singers and music directors of all ability levels will find the event enriching and worthwhile. The presenters are:

• His Excellency, Salvatore J. Cordileone Archbishop of San Francisco
• Dr. Jennifer Donelson-Nowicka Director, Catholic Institute of Sacred Music
• Dr. Christopher Berry, Assistant Professor, Catholic Institute of Sacred Music

For the full schedule and registration information, please visit the website:

https://catholicinstituteofsacredmusic.regfox.com/sacred-music-study-day-2026 

Durandus on the Thursday after Ash Wednesday

On the preceding day (Ash Wednesday), all are invited to repentance; and because penance consists in three things, namely, prayer, fasting and almsgiving, on the three days, the liturgy treats of these three, with prayer first, on this Thursday, and for this reason, the introit begins with the words, “When I cried out to the Lord.”

Introit When I cried out to the Lord, He heard my voice from those who approach me, and He humbled them, Who is before the ages and remaineth forever. Cast Thy thought upon the Lord, and He will sustain thee. Ps. Hear my prayer, o God, and despise not my pleading; give Thou heed to me, and hear me. Glory be... When I cried out...

Introitus, Ps. 54 Dum clamárem ad Dóminum, exaudívit vocem meam ab his, qui appropinquant mihi, et humiliávit eos, qui est ante sáecula et manet in aeternum: jacta cogitátum tuum in Dómino, et ipse te enutriet. Ps. Exaudi, Deus, oratiónem meam, et ne despéxeris deprecatiónem meam: intende mihi et exaudi me. Gloria Patri... Dum clamárem...

Now a man may pray sometimes for himself, sometimes for another. Therefore, to show how much prayer made for another on one’s behalf avails, there follows the Epistle, “Hezechiah grew sick unto death,” (Isaiah 38, 1-6), in which the Church puts King Hezechiah forth as an example, who, by the prayer made for himself, obtained from the Lord that fifteen years be added to his life. And so that the Church may also show how greatly prayer for another avails, the Gospel “When Jesus entered Capharnaum” is read (Matt. 8, 5-13), about the centurion who prayed the Lord that his servant might be saved, and obtained this. (William Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, VI, 29)

An image from the Paris Psalter, a decorated psalter made in Constantinople in the mid-10th century, now at the Bibliothèque national de France in Paris. On the left side, the prophet Isaiah visits King Ezechiah as he lies on his sickbed, as narrated in today’s epistle; on the right, Ezechiah prays as he looks at the personification of Prayer. The canticle which follows this lesson, Isa. 38, 10-20, is sung in the Roman Office at Lauds of Tuesday, and in the Office of the Dead.

Liturgical Notes on Ash Wednesday

It is a universal custom of all historical Christian rites not to fast on the day of the Lord’s Resurrection, even in Lent and Holy Week. The original Roman Lent of six weeks therefore comprised forty-two days, but only thirty-six days of fasting, which St Gregory the Great describes as “the tithe of the year.” (Hom. XVI in Evang.) The Roman Missal preserves a reminder of this in the Secret for the Mass of the first Sunday of Lent, which speaks of the “sacrifice of the beginning of Lent.”

Not long afterwards, however, perhaps by Gregory himself, the four days preceding the first Sunday were added to the fast to bring the number of days to exactly forty, the length of the fast kept by the Lord Himself, as well as by the prophets Moses and Elijah. This extension of Lent back to Ash Wednesday, which was once commonly known as “in capite jejunii – at the beginning of the fast”, is a proper custom of the Roman Rite, attested in the earliest Roman liturgical books of the century after St Gregory. It was copied by the Mozarabic liturgy, but never by the Ambrosian, and indeed, the Milanese traditionally make a point of eating meat on this day. In the Eastern rites, Great Lent begins on the Monday of the First Week, two days before the Roman Ash Wednesday.

A Greek icon of the Transfiguration from the second half of the 15th century. The Gospel of the Transfiguration, Matthew 17, 1-9, is read on the Ember Saturday of Lent in reference to the forty-day fast of Christ, which is mentioned on the previous Sunday (Matthew 4, 1-11) and of the two Prophets who appeared alongside Him at the Transfiguration, Moses and Elijah, both of whom appear in the readings of Ember Wednesday.(Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Breviary of St Pius V and its medieval predecessors also preserve a memory of the fact that Ash Wednesday is a later addition. Although the fast begins on that day, the proper features of the Lenten Office (the hymns, chapters, versicles etc.) only begin to be sung at Vespers of Saturday before the First Sunday. This is also reflected in the traditional nomenclature of the three days after “Ash Wednesday (Feria IV Cinerum)”, which are called “post cineres – after the ashes,” rather than the first Thursday, Friday and Saturday of Lent. In the titles printed in liturgical books, and in the prayers of the Mass, the use of the Latin word for Lent, “Quadragesima,” only begins on the first Sunday. (An apparent exception is the Secret of the Friday “post cineres”, which contains the words “observantiae quadragesimalis”, but this is a revision of the Tridentine editors; the original reading was “observantiae paschalis.”)

The blessing and imposition of ashes was originally a rite for those who were assigned to do penance publicly during Lent for grave or notorious sins, an extremely ancient discipline and practice of the Church. The extension of this custom to all the faithful began in the later part of the 10th century, and was solidified by the end of the 11th, when Pope Urban II prescribed it at the Council of Benevento in 1091. The rite of “expelling” the public penitents from the church on Ash Wednesday, and receiving them back on Maundy Thursday, remained in the Pontifical for centuries after it had faded from use; another trace is the prayer “for the penitents” among the Preces said at Lauds and Vespers in penitential seasons. Many medieval uses also added a special commemoration of the public penitents to the suffrages of the Saints; in the Sarum Use, it was said as follows at Lauds:

Aña Convertímini ad me in toto corde vestro, in jejunio et fletu, et in planctu, dicit Dóminus.
V. Peccávimus cum pátribus nostris. R. Injuste égimus, iniquitátem fécimus.
Oratio Exaudi, quaesumus, Dómine, súpplicum preces, et confitentium tibi parce peccátis: ut páriter nobis indulgentiam tríbuas benignus, et pacem.

Aña Be ye turned to me with all your heart, in fasting, and in weeping, and in mourning, sayeth the Lord.
V. We have sinned with our fathers. R. We have acted unjustly, we have wrought iniquity.
Prayer Graciously hear, we beseech Thee, O Lord, the prayers of Thy supplicants, and pardon the sins of those who confess to Thee: that Thou may kindly grant us both pardon and peace.

The expulsion of the public penitents, in an illustration from a 1595 edition of the Roman Pontifical. (Reproduced by permission of the Pitts Theological Library, Candler School of Theology at Emory University)

In the Missal of St Pius V, the blessing of the ashes is introduced by a chant which is called an antiphon in the rubrics, but is structured like an introit. The blessing itself consists of four prayers, the sprinkling of the ashes with holy water, and their incensation, after which they are imposed on all present, while two antiphons and a responsory are sung. The rite concludes with a brief prayer, and then the Mass begins.

In the Middle Ages, the Ash Wednesday ceremony generally included a procession as well. Historically, processions are regarded as penitential acts by nature; this is the reason why even those of Candlemas and the Rogations were traditionally done in penitential violet, although the Mass of the former and the season of the latter require white vestments. (See note below.)

In the year 1143, a canon of St Peter’s named Benedict wrote the following brief description of the Ash Wednesday ceremony in his treatise on the rituals of Rome and the Papal court, now known as the Ordo Romanus XI. “The ‘Collect’ (i.e. gathering is held) at St Anastasia, where the Pope comes with the whole curia; and there is he dressed, and all the other orders go up to the altar. There the Pope gives the ashes, and the primicerius sings with the schola the Antiphon Exaudi nos, Domine. When the (ritual at the Collect church) is finished, the Pope and all the others go bare-footed in a procession to Santa Sabina, followed by the primicerius with the schola, as they sing (the antiphon) Immutemur habitu. When they reach the church, the subdeacon lays aside the (processional) cross, and goes to the altar during the litany (of the Saints)… the Pope sings the Mass without the Kyrie, because of the Litany”, (i.e., it has already been sung at the end of the Litany.)

Later descriptions of this ceremony, such as the various recensions of the Ordinal of Innocent III (1198-1216), mention that the ashes were made at the church of St Anastasia by burning the palms left over from the previous year’s Palm Sunday, a common custom to this very day. During the Papal residence in Avignon, however, many long-standing traditions of the Papal court dropped out of use and were never revived; thus, the procession is not included in the pre-Tridentine Missal of the Roman Curia, the antecedent of the Missal of St Pius V.

A penitential procession led by St Gregory the Great, from the Très Riches Heures du Duc du Berry, by the Limbourg brothers, 1412-16.

Note: The ancient processions of the Roman Rite, all of which were once regarded as obligatory at major churches, were those of Candlemas, Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday and the Rogation Days. Corpus Christi was added last, as the culmination of the liturgical year; the white vestments used at the procession indicate its purely celebratory character, wholly appropriate to the nature of the feast. However, it should be noted that the procession is not even mentioned in the Missal, nor is any particular music prescribed for it; of course, the Litany of the Saints, the penitential prayer par excellence, is not sung, and the procession is done after the Mass, rather than before it.

A Letter Exchange on the Last Council and the Liturgical Reform

The following letter exchange took place between me and a gentleman whose personal details have been edited out.

Dear Dr. Kwasniewski,

I am a high school theology teacher and also lead Bible studies. The life of the Church, the Scriptures, and Holy Mass are all integral to my daily life. I find all issues related to liturgy to be terribly confusing. There are so many different narratives out there that one could lose one’s mind trying to figure out which one is correct, or if any is correct. There is the fine work done by many of you at New Liturgical Movement, among others. One could also find a different view point from rad trads, or a liberal view from people at the Pray Tell blog. So, lots of passionate views by highly educated people who feel they are interpreting Vatican II in the right way. (Unless they reject the council altogether, which is another story.)

My question, then, is: Where to begin, and whom do I trust? Having read Vatican II and Sacrosanctum Concilium on a number of occasions, as well as in class work, it seems that some reform was certainly called for. How, then, can some people completely dismiss the council and the directives that were given? I have friends who do that quite often, while referring to the council as simply “pastoral.” Yet, I am sympathetic with these people because of some of the unfortunate innovations that occurred after the council. So, for me at least, while I like the reverence and use of Latin in the TLM, I still prefer the Novus Ordo. It seems to me that there must be some place of meeting between the two, while being faithful to both the received liturgical tradition of the Church and the reforms called for by SC. What do you think?

Sincerely yours,
A Curious Catholic

***

Dear Sir:

I completely understand your predicament, as it parallels how I felt at a certain juncture. We are living in a confusing age, and a certain diversity of opinions is not only to be expected but should be tolerated, even (at times) welcomed, as we try to work things out as best we can, in the absence of strong and able leadership at the higher levels of the clergy.

This much seems beyond any doubt: the reforms to the liturgy from 1964 to 1970 went far beyond anything that the Council Fathers ever had in mind or anything that Sacrosanctum Concilium could possibly justify. This has been so thoroughly documented and demonstrated that it’s no longer an open question.

Those who defend Bugnini and the Consilium are forced, then, simply to say, “Well, that’s true, but they did the bold thing – the thing that had to be done – and the Pope recognized it and approved it.” On the other hand, those who question Bugnini’s and the Consilium’s principles will say, “We’re not surprised at the disaster that has befallen the Church, since you cannot break with the organic tradition of the liturgy and not expect to introduce massive amounts of chaos and malaise.”

None of this touches on the question of sacramental validity, which is to be presumed and can be readily defended on theological grounds; but certainly the question of the prudence of the changes and their defensibility is fair game. The attempt to shut down that conversation has failed, particularly when it became apparent that Joseph Ratzinger, one of the greatest theological luminaries of the twentieth century, and truly “the pope of the liturgical question,” was more than willing to participate in it himself.

Moreover, it really is the case that both John XXIII and Paul VI spoke of the Council as pastoral in nature and as an attempt to interpret and respond to modern man. In 1988, Cardinal Ratzinger said the following in an address to the bishops of Chile:

“The Second Vatican Council has not been treated as a part of the entire living Tradition of the Church, but as an end of Tradition, a new start from zero. The truth is that this particular Council defined no dogma at all, and deliberately chose to remain on a modest level, as a merely pastoral council; and yet many treat it as though it had made itself into a sort of “super-dogma” which takes away the importance of all the rest.”

Consequently, it was possible for the Council to get some things right and others not so right, since we are not dealing with unalterable dogmas that must be believed, or anathematized errors that must be shunned. The simple fact that the Council says “we should do X” doesn’t mean that, some decades later, we can’t legitimately argue that X wasn’t the best response, or that it wouldn’t make more sense to do Y or Z today. Indeed, this kind of situation has occurred many times in the history of the Church, which gives us other examples of councils (think of the Lateran councils) whose reforms didn’t always work or, in some cases, weren’t even attempted.

It seems to me that the Pray Tell perspective is generally untenable because it exalts progressivism at the expense of tradition, which is a fundamentally uncatholic way of thinking and judging. Rorate Caeli represents a consistent traditionalism that considers safe, sound, and sacred that which has always (or nearly always) been done by everyone (or nearly everyone) everywhere (or nearly everywhere). New Liturgical Movement is a meeting ground for various interests, announcements, and hypotheses, but always within a general commitment to the normativity of tradition. One will not stray far from the truth if one endeavors to remain faithful to the Magisterium while seeing tradition as a non-negotiable good that should always be privileged.

You raise an interesting question about Vatican II’s request for a reform of the liturgy. As you know, the Council insisted that no change be made unless the good of the Church certainly required it (SC 23). Far more changes were made than were ever certainly required, and the floodgates were opened for abuses. Even from a sociological-anthropological point of view, everyone knows that a gigantic and tradition-bound body can only absorb change slowly and stepwise, unless one wants to provoke rupture and confusion – which is exactly what happened. It could have been, and was, predicted ahead of time.

It seems clear that Benedict XVI’s intention was that the two “forms” would peacefully coexist for a long enough time to allow a restart of organic development, but I will admit that it’s difficult in practice to see how this would have actually taken place, and I am not aware of many traditionalists who want to see the old rite modified, for reasons explained in one of my recent books, Close the Workshop. In any case, it seems that “full, conscious, and active participation” was the primary reason given for reform, and I think it is not difficult to argue that the TLM in fact allows for a superior fulfillment of this desideratum.

Yours in Him,
Peter Kwasniewski

Dear Dr. Kwasniewski,

About four years ago I emailed you, out of the blue, with some questions about Vatican II, the old Mass and the new Mass. I have spent the past four years reading as much as I can while also observing and praying over my own experiences attending Mass. I have devoted considerable time reading authors that would typically be published on Pray Tell, and while I agree with some of what they argue, mainly the need of some reform, I simply cannot understand their unwillingness to see that a number of the experiments that occurred after the Council did not benefit the People of God. Examples would be the loss of chant, the abandonment of ad orientem, and the complete neglect of Latin.

When I attend the old rite, I fully appreciate the elements in it that are clearly lacking in the new rite. For me, there is a real attraction to it. However, here’s my one concern. I don’t want to be involved with any part of the Church that rejects the Second Vatican Council. While I think there is plenty of healthy dialogue that can go on concerning the implementation of Sacrosanctum Concillium, I am wary of those who reject elements of the Council. I firmly support the teachings on religious liberty, Nostra Aetate, Unitatis Redintegratio, and Lumen Gentium. My question to you is, can I embrace the pre-Conciliar Missal while also embracing the Vatican II in full?

God bless you,
A Curious Catholic

***

Dear Sir:

It’s very good to hear from you again. I no longer read Pray Tell, as I found that the perspective of Fr. Ruff in particular was exceedingly irresponsible. He speaks as if Vatican II amounted to a carte-blanche to overturn anything and everything in order to retool the Church for modern evangelization. Even if one might admire the apostolic motivation of this view, we can see that it has failed in so many ways.

Where there is flourishing new life in the Church, it has tended to align itself with so-called conservative or traditional constituencies. We can see this most obviously in the clergy, religious life, and marriages: young clergy tend, on the whole, to be interested in recovering traditions that were lost; religious orders that are growing or maintaining their numbers are the ones unembarrassed or even eager about Catholic tradition; and the marriages that are bringing new life into the Church and the world are those that are faithful to the indissoluble unitive and procreative finalities of marriage as a life-giving and life-sacrificing covenant.

You raise a difficult and challenging question – namely, about the doctrinal content and subsequent reception of the Second Vatican Council. Unavoidably, the Council is controversial, because, on the topics you mentioned (and others), it staked out positions that are not always obviously in harmony with preceding magisterial teaching. For example, there are clear tensions (which is not yet to say absolute contradictions) between Leo XIII’s encyclical Libertas Praestantissimum and Vatican II’s Dignitatis Humanae, or between Pius XI’s encyclical Mortalium Animos and Vatican II’s Unitatis Redintegratio, or between Pius XII’s Mystici Corporis and Vatican II’s Lumen Gentium.

Because the Council was intended as a pastoral response to modern times, as both John XXIII and Paul VI repeatedly said, it did not engage the highest level of magisterial authority – that is, it did not issue de fide pronouncements or anathemas on errors, which are considered infallible exercises of the Magisterium. At most, as the Nota praevia indicates, it intended to restate teachings already known to be true from their presence in the doctrinal heritage of the Church.

The conciliar documents were presented as a restatement of the Catholic Faith in modern language, and to that extent, they may be responsibly criticized, although the Council’s validity as an ecclesiastical gathering cannot be disputed, nor can the documents be dismissed out of hand. They must not be placed on an untouchable pedestal. Indeed, there is a great irony (as again Ratzinger pointed out) in the fact that the so-called “progressives” feel free to dispute and dismiss the more obviously authoritative canons and decrees of the Council of Trent, where we find the words de fide and anathema on practically every page, while they pillory anyone who so much as questions the prudence or adequacy of any formulation in Vatican II. Surely there is here a strange inversion and confusion.

Thus, everything depends on what is meant by “embracing Vatican II in full.” Whatever is clearly in line with the perennial Magisterium we should embrace; anything that seems in tension with it we may accept on condition that it be in harmony (which we may or may not be able to see ourselves); and we may suspend assent to false interpretations or extrapolations that have caused great harm to the Mystical Body of Christ. What I have just summarized is the view of Bishop Athanasius Schneider, such as can be found in his book Christus Vincit: Christ’s Triumph Over the Darkness of the Age, which I highly recommend for its clarity and serene common sense.

We must also be prepared to acknowledge that the state of the world today, sixty years after the close of the Council, is vastly different than it was back then, and that the burning issues that animated the prelates of the 1960s are no longer ours; moreover, that certain solutions, such as the recovery of tradition, are proving to be more effective in reaching, converting, and nourishing postmodern man than any of the programs aimed at “modern man” as conceived circa 1970. Thus, it may also simply be the case that Vatican II, whatever its status might be, has already simply ceased to be of much relevance, and therefore is no longer worth all the anguish and laborious exegesis it once occasioned.

It seems to me that the sooner bishops and cardinals recognize this dramatic shift, the sooner they can respond to the actual needs and desires of the People of God, and hear what the Spirit is saying to the churches today.

Yours in Christ,

Dr. Kwasniewski