The Octave of Pentecost and the Sacraments

It has often been claimed that one of the triumphs of the post-Conciliar reform was to abolish the octave of Pentecost, and by doing so, “restore” the original character of the Easter season as a single great feast of fifty days. For example, in his apologia for the reform, Abp Bugnini writes, “The Easter season lasts fifty days, beginning with the Easter Vigil and ending with Pentecost Sunday. This is attested by the ancient and universal tradition of the Church, which has always celebrated the seven weeks of Easter as though they were a single day that ends with the feast of Pentecost. For this reason, the octave of Pentecost, which was added to the fifty days of Easter in the sixth century, has been abolished.” (The Reform of the Liturgy, 1948-1975; p. 319 of the English edition.)

Folio 82r of the Gellone Sacramentary, ca. 780 AD, with last prayer of the Mass of Pentecost, three prayers for Vespers, then the Mass of Pentecost Monday, the beginning of that of Tuesday.

The octave of Pentecost is attested in every single pertinent liturgical book of the Roman Rite that we have, going back to the Wurzburg lectionary in the middle of the 7th century. [1] It is part of the liturgical patrimony which the rite shares with the rest of Christendom, as e.g., the Byzantine Rite, which still keeps Pentecost with an afterfeast that lasts until the following Saturday.

But this trope about the supposed fifty days of Easter was very convenient to the reformers’ mindset. It posits that everyone had always been stupidly wrong about the liturgy for well over a millennium, wantonly discarding a part of the Church’s ancient and “original” tradition to no good purpose. This being the case, it made sense for the smart and right-thinking men of the Consilium to go back behind the books and “restore” what they believed, mostly (not entirely) in good faith, to be that “original” tradition, erasing whatever they deemed necessary in the process. And thus Bugnini could write in a footnote to the text cited above, “Pentecost is the octave Sunday after Easter. An octave of an octave is illogical.” Yes, indeed: they were the first people to think logically about the liturgy for fourteen centuries…

Many years ago, the late Fr Hunwicke wrote an article about this, in which he stated, “I wonder just how securely founded in both the Bible and the patristic traditions, of West as well as East, this newly minted view of Eastertide is.” In response, I wrote a pair of articles (part 1; part 2) arguing that the answer is, “Not very.” These articles can be summarized in two basic points.

1. The same Fathers who attest to the idea of Easter as a continuous feast of fifty days ALL do so in reference to the absence, and indeed, the prohibition, of fasting during that period. This stands, of course, in contrast to the very strict fasting which they enjoined for the forty days of Lent, and most of them state this contrast very explicitly.

This alone is enough to give the lie to the claim that the post-Conciliar Rite restored the original tenor of the Easter season, since this contrast barely exists anymore. Catholics are now required to fast on a grand total of two days in Lent, and free to eat meat on 38 of the 46 days from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday inclusive.

2. Regardless of what the Church Fathers have to say on the subject, no liturgical rite, including the Novus Ordo, has ever actually celebrated the period from Easter to Pentecost as a single feast of fifty days. All liturgical traditions have always articulated a clear distinction between Easter with its octave and the rest of the Paschal season. And in point of fact, the Novus Ordo has put this distinction into even higher relief by abolishing the custom of saying the Gloria in excelsis at the Mass and the Te Deum in the Office on every day of Eastertide. (The one historical exception is Rogation Monday.)

A very nice setting in alternating chant and polyphony of the Kyrie of the Eastertide Mass setting Lux et origo.

When I wrote these two articles seven years ago, I toyed with a particular explanation of what the octave of Pentecost represents, but I couldn’t quite make it work in my head properly, and gave up on it. Yesterday, somehow, after not thinking about it for years, the solution finally came to me. My idea is that each day of the octave represents one of the seven Sacraments.

Before I explain this, a few things need to be stated. First, I am not claiming that these Masses arise as a group from a developed sacramental theology that had formally classified specific seven rites and practices together with the name “Sacraments”. That is a tradition that would not be solidified in its formal expression until much later. Nevertheless, each of them does reflect something which the Church always understood to be an essential part of the economy of grace. Perhaps it is not very important whether this is the result of a deliberate design on the part of human authors, or a happy accident guided by that Providence under which there are no real accidents. (On this point, I would like to thank my friend Gerhard Eger of Canticum Salomonis for his wise counsel.)

Second, as I explained yesterday, the octave of Pentecost is an Ember week, and imitates the arrangement of the previous Ember week, the first of Lent. Originally, Pentecost Thursday was an aliturgical day, on which no Mass was celebrated, as the Thursdays of Lent were until the early decades of the eighth century. This means that if each Mass of the Pentecost octave were to represent one of the Sacraments, one would have to be left out, or, so to speak, represented by its absence. I will explain this further below.

The next page of the Gellone Sacramentary (83v) after the one given above. Note that the Mass of Ember Wednesday (which begins with rubric in the fifth line) is followed immediately by that of Ember Friday (rubric in the tenth line from the bottom), and no Mass is given for Thursday.

Third, this explanation does not require that each Sacrament be mentioned explicitly on only one of the seven days of the octave, and nowhere else within it. The modern conceit that a liturgical day must have one and only one easily graspable theme is completely foreign to the Church’s liturgical tradition. And likewise, it is not necessary for every text on each day to refer to that day’s Sacrament, or for the Sacraments to be represented in the order in which they are customarily given.

When Our Lord rose from the dead and appeared to the disciples, they did not immediately rush out into the streets to proclaim His Resurrection to the world. The Roman liturgy itself reflects this fact in the choice of its Gospel readings for Easter; neither at the vigil (Matthew 28, 1-7) nor on the feast (Mark 16, 1-7) does He appear in person. The Resurrection is solemnly proclaimed in the introit of Easter Sunday, which speaks in the person of the Lord: “I have risen, and am still with thee.” But note here the singular number, “with thee.” The Resurrection is made known to the individual believer, as the introit goes on to say, “thy knowledge is become full of wonder”, but it is not yet the time for the believer to manifest it to the world at large.

The forty days from Easter to Ascension inclusive represent, of course, the period which St Luke describes at the beginning of the Acts (1, 3-5): “(Jesus) showed himself alive (to the Apostles) after his passion… , appearing to them for forty days, and … commanded them, that they should … wait for the promise of the Father, ‘which you have heard … by my mouth. For … you shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost, not many days hence.” The “not many days hence” are represented by the pause between Ascension and Pentecost. It is only at the latter feast, with the coming of the Holy Spirit, that the public mission of the Church begins, and the Resurrection is proclaimed openly to the world.

Therefore, the seven days of Pentecost represent something substantially different from what the Easter season represents, namely, the point at which the Church begins to fulfill the Great Commission, making disciples of all nations. This is the point at which She begins to live the life of grace, engendered and nourished by the Sacraments, the means by which She will carry forth the preaching and teaching of the Faith from the first Pentecost to the end of the world. And this final period is represented in the liturgy by the long haul of weeks (more than half the year) from the feast until Advent, which begins with a Gospel about the end of the world.

Within the first week of this period, the seven Masses of the Pentecost octave represent these means, the seven Sacraments, as follows.

Pentecost Sunday, of course, represents Confirmation, the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the individual believer. Confirmation is only administered after Baptism, which has already been mentioned by the vigil of Pentecost, a day which, like the vigil of Easter, has been dedicated to the celebration of Baptism since time out of mind.

The Sacrament of Confirmation depicted at the beginning of the first edition of the Pontifical of Pope Clement VIII, issued in 1595.

The Mass of Pentecost Monday represents Confession. This is stated in the epistle, Acts 10, 34 and 42-48, in which St Peter says, “To (Jesus Christ) all the prophets give testimony, that by his name all who believe in him receive remission of sins.” The Gospel, John 3, 16-21, speaks clearly of sin and the need for repentance, confession and forgiveness: “Everyone that doth evil hateth the light, and cometh not to the light, that his works may not be reproved. But he that doth truth, cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest, because they are done in God.” But the word “confession” can also mean “a profession of belief”, and this is also reflected in the Gospel reading: “He that believeth in (the Son of God) is not judged. But he that doth not believe, is already judged.”

The Mass of Pentecost Tuesday also represents Baptism, the entry into life as a member of Christ’s mystical body, the beginning and sine qua non of all the other Sacraments. In the Gospel, Jesus proclaims, “I am the door. By me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved: and he shall go in, and go out, and shall find pastures.” The epistle unites Baptism to Confirmation as it tells of what Peter and John did in Samaria. “They were only baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Then (the Apostles) laid their hands upon them, and they received the Holy Spirit.”

The Mass of Ember Wednesday, at which the Gospel is taken from the Eucharistic discourse of John 6 (44-52), is the clearest and most obvious expression of this arrangement. “I am the bread of life. … This is the bread which cometh down from heaven; that if any man eat of it, he may not die. … If any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world.” The Eucharist is centrally placed in the middle of the week as the greatest of the Sacraments, the one which is supposed to be frequently celebrated, and on a fast day, the Ember Wednesday, since the Church has always regarded fasting as a necessary preparation for the Eucharist.

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

As noted above, following this explanation, one of the Sacraments would have to be represented by its absence, since Pentecost Thursday was originally an aliturgical day. This is the Sacrament of Holy Orders, since the thing that does not happen on such a day, the celebration of Mass, is specific to the exercise of the priesthood. But the Gospel assigned to this day when it was given a Mass, Luke 9, 1-6, fits in with this just as well, since it begins with a mention of the first priests, the twelve apostles, being sent out into the world by the Lord for the first time, “to preach the kingdom of God, and heal the sick.”

The Gospel of the Mass of Ember Friday is Luke 5, 17-26, the healing of the paralytic whose friends lower him through the roof into the house where the Lord is teaching. This represents the last rites and the Anointing of the Sick, even though such healing is also mentioned the previous day. Note that the man healed is a paralytic; not on his deathbed, as far as we can tell from the story, but very much like a man on his deathbed, incapable of moving himself.

The paralytic lowered through the roof, in a fresco of the 8th or 9th century preserved in the basilica of St Sabbas on the Aventine Hill in Rome. On the left side is shown the calling of Ss James and John.

Lastly, the Mass of Ember Saturday represents Marriage, since the Gospel, Luke 4, 38-44, begins with the healing of St Peter’s mother-in-law. When I first tried to put this explanation together in my head several years ago, this seemed to be the sticking point, because the Gospel makes no direct mention of Peter’s wife. (Indeed, it is a reasonable theory that Peter was free to leave everything behind and follow the Lord because by the time they met, he was a widower.) It now seems to me to make sense for the following reasons.

We know nothing about this woman, apart from the brief mention of her here and in the synoptic parallels, but conflicts between husbands and their mothers-in-law are proverbial in all times and cultures. Notice then the words of the epistle, Romans 5, 1-5, which also provides the text of the introit: “tribulation worketh patience, and patience trial, and trial hope, and hope confoundeth not: because the charity of God is poured forth in our hearts, by the Holy Ghost, who is given to us.” This speaks to the virtue of patience, and the practice of charity, which are of the essence of marriage, and always necessary for its flourishing, not only between the husband and wife, but also between and within their families.

The Healing of St Peter’s Mother-in-law, and other stories from the same part of the Gospel of Luke and its synoptic parallels, in an engraving made in 1593 by the Flemish artist Johannes Wierix (1549 - ca. 1620). This Gospel is also read on the Thursday of the third week of Lent, as noted in the title block at top.   

I also notice that the first reading, Joel 2, 28-32, contains two references to men and women together. “I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy… Moreover, upon my servants and handmaids in those days I will pour forth my spirit.” Likewise, this passage says, “I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh”, referring to the fact that marriage is the joining of man and woman in the flesh. As Adam says in the time of man’s innocence, when marriage was instituted as an honorable estate, “ ‘This now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man.’ Wherefore a man shall leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they shall be two in one flesh.” (Gen. 2, 23-24)

[1] Here I say “liturgical book” advisedly, because, as I have noted before, the octave is not attested in the so-called Leonine Sacramentary. But the Leonine Sacramentary is not a liturgical book, properly speaking; it is a collection of Masses, which was not designed to be used for actual celebration of the liturgy. It is also something of an unreliable narrator.

Durandus on the Liturgy of Pentecost Thursday

The Mass of Thursday in some churches does not have its own Introit, but because the Lord came down on Sunday through the sending of the Holy Spirit, and on Thursday ascended into heaven, therefore the Introit is common to Sunday and Thursday. … and thus, from Saturday to Saturday there are seven Masses, which correspond to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. …

Introitus Sap 1, 7 Spíritus Dómini replévit orbem terrárum, allelúja: et hoc quod cóntinet omnia, scientiam habet vocis, allelúja, allelúja, allelúja. Ps 67 Exsurgat Deus, et dissipentur inimíci ejus: et fugiant qui odérunt eum a facie ejus. Gloria Patri ... Spíritus Dómini...

Introit Wis. 1, 7 The Spirit of the Lord hath filled the world, alleluia, and that, which containeth all things, hath knowledge of the voice, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Ps 67 Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered, and let those who hate Him flee from before His face. Glory be... The Spirit of the Lord...

But some churches sing the introit which is said on the following day, namely, “Let my mouth be filled with your praise.” Others have a proper Mass, namely, “God of our fathers, grant us the spirit of grace,” in which the church prays that the Holy Spirit be given to her sons for the forgiveness of sins and perform miracles. (This is actually part of the text of a troped Gloria, not an introit.) And because miracles happen through the Holy Spirit, therefore the Epistle (Acts 8, 5-8) is read in which Phillip healed many of the lame, and cast out unclean spirits, and there was great rejoicing in that city, namely, Samaria. And because all these things happen through the Holy Spirit, there follows the Gospel (Luke 9, 1-6) “Jesus called together the twelve Apostles, then gave them strength and power over all demons”, and afterwards, “take nothing on the way, neither staff nor bullet wallet”; these things can only be done by those who an abundance of the Holy Spirit.

– This Epistle also parallels that of Easter Thursday, Acts 8, 26-40, in which the same Philip (one of the seven first deacons, sometime called Philip the Evangelist to distinguish him from the Apostle) converts and baptizes the Ethiopian eunuch.

The Baptism of the Ethiopian Eunuch, ca. 1625-30, Attributed to the Flemish painters Hendrik van Balen the Elder (1575 ca. - 1632) and Jan Brueghel the Younger (1601-78). Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

– As an interesting aside, Durandus knew (6, 43) that the Thursdays of Lent were originally “aliturgical” days, on which Mass was not said, and that this custom was changed by Pope St Gregory II; he also understood that this history explained some of the particularities in the arrangement of the liturgical texts of those Thursdays. However, he evidently did not realize that Pentecost Thursday has no Mass of its own for the same reason, namely, that it was originally also an aliturgical day, and also changed by St Gregory II.

The Feast and Fast of Pentecost

On the vigil of Pentecost, as on that of Easter, the Roman station church is the cathedral of the Most Holy Savior, popularly known as St John in the Lateran. This is, of course, because of the day’s very ancient character as one of the two occasions for the celebration of baptism, following what the Acts of the Apostles say about the very first Pentecost (2, 41), when St Peter baptized about 3,000 people. In ancient times, it was an almost universal custom that a cathedral should have a baptistery right next to it, and Rome was no exception; furthermore, the administration of baptism was principally a duty of the bishop. This is also why the traditional Roman vigil of Pentecost repeats several elements from the vigil of Easter, most significantly, a series of catechetical prophecies, and the blessing of the baptismal font, a custom attested in all of the ancient liturgical books of the Roman Rite. [1] The collect of the Mass refers to the baptismal character of the rite even more explicitly than that of the Easter vigil, and the Hanc igitur of Easter is said, which speaks of those “whom (God has) deigned to regenerate of water and the Holy Spirit”, as also throughout the octave. [2]

The interior of the Lateran Baptistery

After the celebration of the Easter vigil at a church dedicated to the Savior, the stations of Easter week bring the newly baptized to the churches of the most important Saints, arranged in hierarchical order. Easter Sunday is celebrated at St Mary Major, the Virgin’s most ancient Roman church; the Masses of Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are held at the tombs of Ss Peter, Paul and Lawrence respectively, the city’s three principal patrons. On Thursday the station is at the church of the Twelve Apostles, and on Friday at the Pantheon, dedicated to all the martyrs; Saturday returns to the Lateran, where St John represents the confessors. As detailed in the first article linked above, each one of these Masses contains clear references to the Saint or group of Saints to whom the station church is dedicated.

Of the seven station churches of the vigil, feast and octave of Easter, five are also kept at Pentecost, albeit in a different order. Starting from this fact, and from the common station for the vigil, the Bl. Ildephonse Schuster attempts in his book The Sacramentary (vol. 2, p. 397) to explain the stations of Pentecost and its octave in reference to those of Easter, according to a “deliberate design of making the two feasts equal”, and posits various reasons for the change in order. His explanation seems to me, however, to run aground by starting from an a priori assumption that since Pentecost imitates Easter in some ways, we should expect it to imitate Easter in all or most ways, which it clearly does not. For example, at the beginning of the Pentecost vigil, there is no blessing of a fire, even though this would arguably be an especially appropriate rite to celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit in tongues of fire. [3] But much more significantly in regard to the stations, the texts of the Pentecost Masses, unlike those of Easter, have almost no relationship to the churches where they are celebrated. [4]

The organizing principle of the stations of Pentecost is rather that they are arranged in deliberate imitation of those of the first week of Lent, as shown in the following chart.

	First Week of Lent	Pentecost
vigil		Lateran
Sunday	Lateran	St Peter’s
Monday	St Peter in Chains	St Peter in Chains
Tuesday	St Anastasia	St Anastasia
Wednes.	St Mary Major	St Mary Major
Thurs.	St Lawrence in Panispera	St Lawrence Outside-the-Walls
Friday	Twelve Apostles	Twelve Apostles
Saturday	St Peter’s	St Peter’s

There are two places where the lists differ, Sunday and Thursday, both of which are easily explained. Before the creation of Ash Wednesday as a part of the liturgical year, Lent began on the First Sunday; the station is held at the cathedral as the most appropriate place for the Pope to begin the catechumenal rites which were such a prominent feature of the season. In the case of Pentecost, the station is at the Lateran on the vigil, and so on the feast, it is kept at St Peter’s instead. As the largest church in Rome, this is the logical choice for a solemnity of such importance, which would presumably draw a very big congregation; and indeed, the station is also held there on Epiphany, on the Ascension, originally on Christmas day, and on the city’s patronal feast.

In the case of Thursday, in Lent, it was originally an “aliturgical” day on which no Mass was celebrated, and this was also true of the Thursday after Pentecost. The custom of having aliturgical days was abolished in the early 8th century, for reasons which I have explained elsewhere, and stations appointed for those days; the Thursdays of the First Week of Lent and of Pentecost were then both assigned to churches dedicated to St Lawrence.

The Martyrdom of St Lawrence, by Titian, from the Spanish Royal Monastery of the Escorial. This is traditionally said to have taken place on the site where the church of St Lawrence in Panisperna now stands.

The question naturally arises as to why the stations of one of the greatest and most solemn feasts copy those of the beginning of the great fast. The answer lies, of course, in the Ember days. We have a total of 22 sermons by Pope St Leo I (444-61) preached on these fast days, four on those of Pentecost, and nine each on those of September and December. In them, he states several times that they were of apostolic institution; we cannot prove that this is in fact the case, but they are unquestionably very ancient. The stations for the Ember Days are always held at Mary Major on Wednesday, at the Twelve Apostles on Friday, and at St Peter’s on Saturday; this being the case, and the necessary exception having been made for Sunday, those of Monday and Tuesday simply reproduce those of the Monday and Tuesday of the First Week of Lent.

The liturgical texts for Pentecost and its octave, including the Ember days, and the stations of the vigil and the first four days of the feast, are attested with a very notable degree of consistency in the oldest liturgical books of the Roman Rite. However, it is also the case that in many early books, the Ember days appear as a feature of the liturgical year separate from the Pentecost octave. In the older version of the Gelasian Sacramentary (Vat. Lat. Reg. 316), they are placed between Pentecost and its octave day, but in the modified form attested in the Gellone Sacramentary, and in the earliest lectionaries, they are not just after the octave, but further separated from it by four feasts and two Sundays. The Mass of Ember Wednesday originally had the following preface, which is modeled fairly closely on a part of Pope Leo’s first sermon on the fast of Pentecost. [5]

“Truly it is worthy… For after those days of rejoicing, which we have kept in honor of the Lord who rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, and after receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit, then indeed have holy fasts been foreseen as necessary to us, so that those thing which have been divinely bestowed upon the Church may abide (i.e. continue to be present) in those who keep a pure manner of living. Through Christ our Lord.”

Folio 83v of the Gellone Sacramentary, ca 780AD, with the preface cited above incorporated into the Mass of Ember Wednesday within the Octave of Pentecost in the middle of the page. (Bibliothèque nationale de France. Département des Manuscrits. Latin 12048)

Therefore, just as the Ember days of Lent mark the beginning of the Church’s fast in preparation for the baptismal rites of Easter, this text presents the fast after Pentecost as a preparation for the rest of the liturgical year, the longest part of it, once all of the catechumens have joined the company of the faithful. “Therefore did these teachers (i.e. the Apostles), who imbued all the sons of the Church with their examples and traditions, begin the first service of Christian warfare with holy fasts, so that those who are about to fight against spiritual wickedness might take up the arms of abstinence, by which to cut off all incentives to vice.” (St Leo, ibid. cap. 2)

As in interesting aside, the title of the Ember days in the ancient Roman liturgical books is not “Quatuor Temporum”, as it is in the Tridentine books. Those of Pentecost are called “the fast of the fourth month”, those of September and December, “of the seventh” and “of the tenth month” respectively. [6] These titles come from a verse of the prophet Zachariah, 8, 19, which is included in the fourth prophecy of the Mass of Ember Saturday in September, “Thus saith the Lord of hosts: * The fast of the fourth month, and the fast of the fifth, and the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the tenth shall be to the house of Juda joy and gladness, and great solemnities: only love ye truth and peace.” That this is not mere coincidence is demonstrated by several early epistle lectionaries, in which the words “jejunium primi – the fast of the first (month)” are added to the Biblical text at the place marked with a star above, in order to include the Ember days of Lent.

The fourth prophecy of Ember Saturday of September, Zachariah 8, 14-19, in the so-called Lectionary of Alcuin, an epistolary of the 9th century whose contents represent the state of the Roman lectionary in the early 7th century. The words “jejunium primi” are in the 5th and 4th line from the bottom. (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des Manuscrits, Latin 9452; folio 99r, image cropped.)

It is tempting to speculate that the “fast of the fifth month” may have been fulfilled with the four vigils kept at the end of June, those of Ss Protasius and Gervasius, St John the Baptist, Ss John and Paul, and Ss Peter and Paul, the second and fourth of which are still kept in the Extraordinary Form to this day. The very end of the reading serves as the ferial chapter of Prime in the Roman Breviary, a reminder to continually cultivate the virtues which the Church seeks to instill in us by periods of fasting throughout the year.

✥

NOTES: [1] This is also attested well before any surviving liturgical book, already at the end of the fourth century, in a letter of Pope St Siricius (384-399) to Himerius, bishop of Tarragon in Spain. (Epist. ad Himerium cap. 2: PL XIII, 1131B-1148A) Pope St Leo I (440-461) also asserts that this was the practice of the Church in a letter to the bishops of Sicily, exhorting them to follow the example of the Apostle Peter noted above. (Epist. XVI ad universos episcopos per Siciliam constitutos, PL LIV, 695B-704A).

[2] Further similarities between the vigils of Easter and Pentecost: the rite begins in the penitential color, violet. Six prophecies are repeated from the vigil of Easter, and the three tracts from Easter night are also repeated in their respective places. Each prophecy is followed by a prayer; the six prayers are different from those of the Easter vigil, but express many of the same ideas. At the Mass, the ministers change vestments and color; there is no Introit, and the bells are rung at the Gloria in excelsis. After the Alleluja of the Mass, the same Tract is sung as on Easter night. At the Gospel, the acolytes do not carry candles. Just as on Easter night the Resurrection is watched for, but not anticipated, so also with this same gesture, the Church watches for the coming of the Holy Spirit in tongues of fire, as Christ told His disciples to do, but does not anticipate it.

[3] Note further that the Divine Office of Pentecost has only one nocturn at Matins, like that of Easter, but otherwise shares none of the Paschal Office’s unique characteristics.

[4] The Mass of Pentecost Monday, with its station at St Peter in Chains, is a partial exception. The basilica was originally dedicated to both Ss Peter and Paul; the Collect refers to God giving “the Holy Spirit to (His) Apostles”, and the Epistle, Acts 10, 34 & 42-48, to the baptism of the gentiles, a mission fulfilled by both Peter and Paul in Rome.

[5] The Preface: VD: Post illos enim laetitiae dies, quos in honore Domini a mortuis resurgentis et in caelos ascendentis exigimus, postque perceptum sancti Spiritus donum, necessaria etenim nobis ieiunia sancta prouisa sunt, ut pura conversacione uiuentibus que diuinitus sunt aecclesiae conlata permaneant: per Christum dominum nostrum.
St Leo: Igitur post sanctae laetitiae dies, quos in honorem Domini a mortuis resurgentis, ac deinde in caelos ascendentis, exegimus, postque perceptum sancti Spiritus donum, salubriter et necessarie consuetudo est ordinata jejunii: ut si quid forte inter ipsa festivitatum gaudia negligens libertas et licentia inordinata praesumpsit, hoc religiosae abstinentiae censura castiget: quae ob hoc quoque studiosius exsequenda est, ut illa in nobis quae hac die Ecclesiae divinitus sunt collata permaneant. (De jejunio Pentecostes I, 3)

[6] The Roman calendar originally counted only ten months, starting with March, with the days between December and March as a month-less period. Although this impractical system was traditionally said to have been changed less than 50 years after the founding of the city, the Romans were a people who knew how to honor tradition; this is why the names of the last four months, which derive from “septem – seven”, “octo – eight” etc., were never changed. By this reckoning, March is the first month, and June the fourth.

Cold and Hot Media: The Mass as a Medium

“Let’s Throw the Microphone Out of the Church!”

Paweł Jarnicki

Part 3

(See Part 1 | Part 2)

The difficulties in understanding McLuhan’s views on microphones may also stem from the fact that he assumes that the reader is familiar with his concepts presented in other texts. It is obvious that a microphone is a transmitter, that it is a medium. There is the one who speaks, there is the one who listens, and there is the message transmitted through the microphone.

But a casual reader may be surprised that McLuhan seems to suggest that the use of what he considers a “cold” microphone could “warm up” the Latin Mass (which he considers “cold”). What does it mean for media to be “cold” or “hot”?

In the simplest terms, a hot medium delivers information in “high definition”, in a form that minimizes the cognitive activity of the recipient. Take, for example, a contemporary entertainment film with surround sound and special effects. The recipient does not have to conjecture the details, does not have to imagine how something explodes, what someone is wearing, what a given interior looks like, what the background of a scene is, etc. (to stick to the realm of appearances). The recipient simply sees it, and is cognitively passive, because everything is “served on a plate.”

Cold media, on the other hand, provide information in “low definition”, in a form that requires cognitive activity on the part of the recipient; in order to assimilate the message, the recipient must “warm it up”. Someone who reads a novel has to conjecture a lot, has to imagine what the scene described in words looks like, has to complete a lot of details, construe a lot, and can do it in many ways to a certain extent. [1] So, although on the surface, just like a movie viewer, they do nothing (they do not move or speak), we understand that a book reader is more active than a viewer who simply surrenders to impressions.

Hot media make the audience cognitively passive, while cold media force cognitive activity, which is why, among other things, “the medium is the message,” because in the long run it changes the level of knowledge of a larger group of recipients. Continuing with our book-film example, let us note that the knowledge of students who have watched the film adaptation of a school reading is different from the knowledge of students who have carefully read the book.

In this sense, the type of medium has a greater impact on culture and society than the content of the message being conveyed. Regardless of whether it is Pan Tadeusz [the Polish national epic] or another story, more is “gained” from the reception of a cold medium. This is because a cold medium requires cognitive activity on the part of the recipient, an act that de facto creates a community.

After all, it is not state-issued ID cards or church baptism certificates that make us a community, but rather socialization into similar ways of “warming up” – completing, conjecturing, construing. If this seems too abstract, try to recall a social gathering. Jokes are often told at such gatherings, especially at the beginning, to build a shared mood. Jokes often involve some kind of understatement or mistake; the audience has to make a mental effort to “get it,” and shared laughter is proof that despite the ambiguity of the message, we “get it,” meaning we understand each other better and think alike. A momentary community is created. [2]

Another device that requires completion is... the parable. We usually think that their ambiguity served to ensure that only the chosen few understood them, so as not to cast pearls before swine, and we do not notice the other – or perhaps the first – side of the coin, that the ambiguity of certain statements, by forcing similar cognitive activity, builds a community.

Pius XII offering Mass at an altar with four microphones (only three visible). Photo courtesy of Nico Fassino

McLuhan writes about the microphone, but he also seems to think of the Mass as a medium, although he does not make this distinction explicitly. [3] If the Mass is a medium, then the speaker is the Church, the listener is the people of God, and what is communicated through the Mass is the deposit of Faith. Viewing the Mass as a medium helps us understand why the “cold” microphone “warmed up” the Holy Mass, because in the new Mass – with sound amplification, in vernacular, with the priest facing the people – everything is to be “high definition”: visible, audible, and understandable.

The traditional Mass was “low definition” – cold (“demanding”), like reading a book: the faithful had to complete for themselves what the priest was doing. They had dogmas as their guideposts. The new Mass is hot (“easy”), like watching a movie. However, even though the priest says everything loudly and in understandable language, it does not help at all to feel that he is addressing God and re-presenting the Sacrifice of Christ in an unbloody manner on behalf of the faithful. Continuing our analogy, the “plot” is supposedly the same (the deposit of Faith has not changed), but the level of “knowledge” of the faithful is radically different.

It is possible that illiterate people of past eras (raised on the old Mass) had a deeper faith than those among contemporary intellectuals (raised on the new Mass) who have remained in the Church and so “actively” participate in the new Masses. They read the readings, carry the gifts, and above all, they do not pray the rosary during Mass (a very common example!). “Traditionalists” often mock this “activism.” However, no one can explain what is wrong with it.

The paradox is that although the theoretical goal of the Mass reform was to increase the participation of the faithful (participatio actuosa), in practice the effects are the opposite of what was intended. The changes introduced (which were intended to increase clarity and comprehensibility, i.e., to “warm up” the Mass) have only increased external activity and suppressed internal activity, which is truly community-building. Contemporary Catholic communities that shake hands after meetings and say, “It’s good to have you here,” may in fact be superficial communities. Only internal, cognitive activity creates a deeper community, creates the Church.

If during the new Mass, where everything is seemingly clear, obvious, and understandable, the faithful do not have to complete anything themselves or conjecture anything (which is very difficult anyway, because they are flooded with many more stimuli), then they absorb the content of the reading to a much lesser extent, and their membership in the Community becomes increasingly formal. They cease to feel unity with other members of the Mystical Body. This is the first, painful consequence of introducing the microphone into the Church, concerning the Community. The second concerns the Word.

The church of St Matthäus in Düsseldorf, Germany. Notice the obligatory centrality of the mic, with the processional cross and candles to the side. The overhead crucifix only partly cancels out the effect.

Omnimediatization

After my conversion, I saw and heard many Masses. Very different ones. I quickly turned to traditional Masses, although I never rejected the new ones. I read about the reform, about non-believers and Protestants who once converted, enchanted by the beauty of the Latin Mass. And then they experienced the reform and the pentecostalization of Catholicism. And I began to wonder if today’s Mass could “captivate” someone enough to convert them. If I bring a non-believing friend to Mass in my parish, is there anything here that might delight them? It’s a difficult question...

The vast majority of new Masses are chaotic, and at times even noisy and cacophonous. The new Mass is not appealing at all. I have often wondered whether it is inertia or a miracle that people still come here. In today’s churches, too many things are shoddy, kitschy, and inconsistent. Plastic chasubles and hubbub stand in stark contrast to the thoughtful design and ornamentation of old churches.

Among the more “difficult” experiences, I include the contemporary new Masses known as “children’s,” “for children,” or “family” Masses. Much could be written about them, but I will focus here on one way in which the microphone is used during them. The moment of the homily arrives. The priest does not approach the pulpit or climb into the ambo, but takes a portable microphone, leaves the presbytery and goes into the nave (in front of the balustrade, which is not there) and calls the children to him. They crowd around him. Instead of a sermon, he gives a catechesis and asks the children questions. The children answer. The priest is happy, the parents are happy, because the children are “actively participating” and the content is good and pious. What’s wrong with that?

We already know that the content is actually secondary, because the primary message is the medium. And no one at this Mass is surprised that the priest speaks through a microphone to the children who are within arm’s reach. No one is surprised that they answer him through the same microphone, even though they are standing right next to him. And once during such a Mass, the priest, who after his sermon-catechesis had already asked all the children about their Mass intentions, turned – of course through that portable microphone, of course – to the adults remaining in the pews with the question: “Perhaps the floor has some intentions?”

This servant of the Lord’s constantly devasted vineyard, whose piety and good faith I am firmly convinced of, simply picked up the message from the microphone. He called the faithful who participate in the Sacrifice “the floor.” But it’s really not his fault. He was about 40 years old, so he was raised on Mass with a microphone.

It was only while writing this article that I realized how mediatized our world is, how it is mediated by the means of communication. [4] I tried to find contemporary social events that are not mediatized, and the only things that came to mind were school classes and some funerals of “insignificant people.” It was a shocking discovery for me that there are basically no more social events that are not mediatized. We have to see and hear everything.

Nothing should be left unbroadcast.

And yet, a hundred years ago in Fatima, over 70,000 people came, even though they couldn’t see. They came because they heard that something was occurring. But there was no sound system or zoom on site. They had no guarantee that they would see or hear anything, even if they were right in the center of events. The photos from Fatima in 1917 are, of course, a means of communication, but they are only documents; the events in Fatima themselves were not mediatized for their participants. That is, the means of communication were there, but they were... children, flesh-and-blood children.

Our world has changed significantly over the past hundred years. This would not have been possible without microphones and sound systems. The first such systems were developed around 1915, and two years later, during Christmas 1917 in San Francisco, the Magnavox sound system was publicly presented. In the same year, Our Lady of the Rosary appeared in Fatima. The carbon microphone was invented forty years earlier, in 1876. In 1877, Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception appeared in Gietrzwałd. And seven years later, in 1884, Pope Leo XIII had a truly Job-like vision, or rather “hearing,” because the revelation was (indeed!) acoustic in nature. Jesus spoke with Satan, who, wanting to attempt to destroy the Church (the deposit of Faith!), demanded [5] time (from 75 to 100 years) and greater power over those who would devote themselves to his service. Jesus was to allow this, and Satan chose the “coming” century (usually interpreted, but on what basis is unknown, as the 20th century).

Terrified by this revelation, Leo XIII decided that all priests would recite a set of prayers after low Masses (during the week), kneeling at the foot of the altar (the old one, i.e., together with the people, versus Deum), which were later called “the Leonine Prayers.” These prayers are no longer recited today except at the old Mass (though sometimes their echo can still be heard when, after a parish Mass, the prayer to St. Michael the Archangel is recited). The obligation to recite the Leonine Prayers as an “add-on” was abolished by the Consilium led by Bugnini in 1964.

I must admit that when I heard that the new pope had chosen the name Leo, I felt hopeful that this was not a random choice. Although the content of Leo XIII’s revelations is known to many believers, and many believers are familiar with other predictions of a crisis in the Church, priests today do not explain this to the faithful in a convincing manner. For believers, can such temporal coincidences as those mentioned above be purely accidental? Is the intensification of Marian apparitions accidental? Has Jesus really allowed Satan to destroy the Church? When? When will it end? Has it already begun? What would it consist of? Is it a coincidence that God’s people are lost in conjectures and conspiracy theories when the voice of the shepherds has become a processed voice?

Although succession in the Church must still be accomplished through the direct laying on of hands, the Word that priests proclaim today is transmitted. This may seem insignificant to us, but the sound that comes from the speakers is, contrary to appearances, heavily processed, so that the sound does not overlap with the echo of what was said a moment ago. [6] In addition, the priest’s voice today reaches the faithful from all directions (the nearest speaker may even be behind them); it is a “dis-placed” voice. In the past, it had one natural source in the priest’s body. This causes confusion, which is not visible in adults today because they are already accustomed to it, but it can be seen in some of the youngest children (who enter the space of a mass event with a transmitted human voice, not only in church). The microphone created, as McLuhan put it, a “sound bubble.”

This led to the actual elimination of the age-old division of the Temple into three zones (tabernacle – Holy of Holies; presbytery – Holy Place; nave – vestibule), which, in short, does not help the faithful understand that the most important part of the Mass takes place there, in the presbytery, in a slightly different space behind the balustrades. In fact, today the balustrade is often no longer there, because the sound bubble has made the space of churches a homogeneous space of encounter around the Table-Altar.

The voice also sounds at a similar volume all the time (in the old Mass, the priest sometimes spoke loudly, sometimes moderately, sometimes in a whisper). The microphone not only dis-placed the Word proclaimed during Mass, but also, as McLuhan puts it, discarnated it. It is precisely this second, painful consequence of the introduction of the microphone into the Church that concerns the Word.

TLM, Rome (Italy), Church of the Most Holy Trinity of the Pilgrims. A medium-sized church during a traditional Mass does not require a sound system; the cross is the axis of the celebration.

TLM, Vilnius (Lithuania), Church of St. Anne. A church without a single microphone, neither at the altar nor at the ambo.

Discarnation of the Word

The lord of death is unable to be born of a virgin like God. The lord of death cannot have his own body. At most, he can enter the bodies of those born naturally. The Church has developed methods to combat possession. But it has not noticed the new trick of the lord of death – a trick with a much greater destructive power than possession: the trick of the discarnation of the Word, which distorts the transmission of the deposit of Faith. That is why I say: Let’s throw the microphone out of the Church!

“Even then Cassandra, who, by the god’s decree, is never / to be believed by Trojans, reveals our future fate with her lips.”

I saw that on most of the new altars, the microphone had taken the place of the cross. The cross stood to the side or behind and became an ornament. Priests today move around the microphone.

But whatever happens, as the Church says, the Lord will come. He was born at night, he comes in silence, he will rise from the heights and illuminate the darkness.

Christmas Day, 2025

NOTES

^[1] Let us note in the margin that after a film with special effects, it is more difficult to have a meaningful conversation with other viewers (often these conversations do not go beyond “did you see that” or “that was great”), it is more difficult to talk about such films because we saw the same thing and everything was obvious. When, on the other hand, someone has read the same novel (I don’t mean a crime novel) at the same time, it is often easier to talk about it because we understand many issues and imagine them slightly differently.

^[2] Of course, it happens that a narcissistic character dominates a party that consists only of jokes, or that jokes quickly reveal that we will not understand each other, that there will be no community, because completing them would mean repeating stereotypes that offend us. Metaphors are a community-building device similar to jokes, although not as easy to notice. Due to their ambiguity, they also force the listener to make cognitive effort and create a community. In the presence of those who use metaphors that do not offend us, but are close to us, ones that we understand almost instinctively, we feel better.

^[3] This is how, by the way, Ashil D. Manohar develops McLuhan’s idea in his thesis entitled The Mass is the Medium: Marshall McLuhan and Roman Catholic Liturgical Change (2021). USF Tampa Graduate Theses and Dissertations. https://digitalcommons.usf.edu/etd/8817. Such an approach may seem strange at first, but it is not foreign to official church documents. Cf. e.g. p. 11 of the pastoral instruction on social communications Communio et progressio: “Communication is more than the expression of ideas and the indication of emotion. At its most profound level it is the giving of self in love. Christ’s communication was, in fact, spirit and life (Jn 6:53). In the institution of the Holy Eucharist, Christ gave us the most perfect and most intimate form of communion between God and man possible in this life, and, out of this, the deepest possible unity between men.”

^[4] I also realized that this world is coming to an end because of “Artificial Intelligence,” because it is beginning to eat its own tail. Trust in the media began to crumble earlier (because we began to realize that “the press lies” and “television lies” also today, and not just “during communism” behind the Iron Curtain), but AI will complete this process — once we realize that with its help, our and foreign intelligence services, criminals, and enlightened minds are able to generate hyper-realistic fake news, we will completely lose trust in our “extended senses.” In my opinion, it is only a matter of time before zones free from all kinds of technology begin to emerge. Churches could be at the forefront of this!

^[5] I do not have access to the relevant sources, but in reports that can be found on the Internet, Satan’s voice is described as “guttural” or “harsh” , and Artificial Intelligence confirms that early microphones caused such sound distortion and that the human voice transmitted through them was often described as “harsh,” “distorted,” or “raspy.”

^[6] This is necessary due to the “outdated” architecture of churches, which was designed for natural voices. Traditional methods of amplifying sound, apart from architecture, were based on the construction of the ambo — raised above the people. A canopy was installed above the pulpit, whose function was not only decorative — the canopy reflected the sound and directed it downwards towards the people, and in addition, a soundboard was often placed in it. However, all these measures amplified the priest’s live and unprocessed voice.

The Abbey Church of St Philibert in Tournus, France

The same friend of mine who recently visited the cathedral of Ss Peter and Paul in Troyes, France, also went to see the abbey church of St Philibert in Tournus, about 60 miles to the north of Lyon, and has gracious shared these pictures with us. This abbey was founded in 875, and named for a saint who founded another important monastery, Jumièges in northern France (very close to Rouen) in the 7th century. The current buildings date from the 11th century, and constitute one of the largest religious complexes of the Romanesque style that survives in France. As is the case with most such churches, it was modified a number of times, and also includes some Gothic elements. The massive solid wall of the façade is very typical of the style.

The entrance from the cloister to the church.

The barrel vaulting of the central nave is also very typical of the Romanesque.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Durandus on the Liturgy of Pentecost Tuesday

Because the Holy Spirit is not given except by the ministers, on Tuesday the Introit “Receive the delight of your glory” is sung, as if the prelates of the Church were speaking. And since by two-fold love (i.e. of God and neighbor) we come to faith in the Trinity, we sing Alleluia five times. And the meaning of it is, “Receive the delight of glory”, that is, the Holy Spirit, because He will glorify and exalt you, such that every man may say which is said in the Communio, “The Spirit who proceedeth from the Father, he will exalt me.”

The Mass of Pentecost Tuesday, celebrated in 2023 at the church of St Eugène in Paris, sung by our friends of the Schola Sainte Cécile. The Introit Accipite begins at 6:52, and the Communio Spiritus qui a Patre procedit at 1:05:00.

Introitus Accipite jucunditatem gloriae vestrae, alleluia: gratias agentes Deo, alleluia: qui vos ad caelestia regna vocavit, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Ps. 77 Attendite, popule meus, legem meam: inclinate aurem vestram in verba oris mei. Gloria Patri. Accipite.

Introit Receive the delight of your glory, alleluia, giving thanks to God, alleluia, Who hath called ye to the heavenly kingdoms, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Psalm Attend, O my people, to my law: incline your ears to the words of my mouth. Glory be. Receive.

Communio Spiritus qui a Patre procedit, alleluia, ille me clarificabit, alleluia. (The Spirit who proceedeth from the Father, He will glorify me.)

There follows the Epistle (Acts 8, 14-17), which says, “Then they laid their hands upon them, and they received the Holy Spirit.” ... The Gospel (John 10,1-10) agrees with the Epistle, where it says, “He that entereth not through the door... (is a thief and a robber)”, for he does not enter into the Church who does not enter through those who are the door, namely, through Christ and the Apostles, for heretics do not give the Spirit, except in so far as they agree with the Church. And since the Apostles and their successors attacked the leaders of heresies in a spirit of fortitude, this day’s liturgy is about fortitude, which is a gift of the Holy Spirit.

But the Holy Spirit is also the keeper of the door, who leads us through it to the Father, and this is also sung in the Offertory, “He hath opened the gates of heaven”, that is, the writings of the Apostles.

A polyphonic setting of the Offertory Portas caeli by the Polish composer Mikołaj Zieleński (post 1550 - post 1615).

Offertorium Ps 77 Portas caeli apéruit Dóminus: et pluit illis manna, ut éderent: panem caeli dedit eis, panem Angelórum manducávit homo, allelúja. (The Lord opened the doors of heaven, and rained manna upon them that they might eat; he gave them the bread of heaven, man ate the bread of Angels, alleluia.)

Ambrosian Chants for Mass and Vespers of Pentecost

The following recordings were made yesterday, the feast of Pentecost, by Nicola de’ Grandi at the church of Santa Maria della Consolazione, where the traditional Ambrosian Mass is celebrated every Sunday. The first two are of the Mass, and the remaining five of Vespers. Thanks once again to Nicola for sharing these with us. The Latin texts are given in the videos themselves; the English translations are my own.

First we have the Offertory of the Mass. Especially on solemn feasts, these tend to be much longer than their Roman counterparts, and have retained the partial repetitions which have long been purely optional in the Roman Rite. The first part of the text is taken from Leviticus 23, which is read in the Roman Rite at the Mass of the following Ember Saturday. “This day shall be for you as a memorial, hallelujah; and you will celebrate a solemn feast day unto the Lord, unto your generations, the day as an everlasting law, hallelujah, hallelujah. V. (Ex. 14) Moses said to the people, ‘Be ye of good spirit; salvation shall come to you from the Lord, and he will fight for you’ unto your generations, the day as an everlasting law, hallelujah, hallelujah.”

In the Ambrosian Rite, the chant sing during the distribution of communion is called the Transitorium. This particular text is extremely ancient, and is also used on Easter Thursday; the “clean lambs” to which it refers are therefore the newly baptized, since Milan shares the common tradition that Pentecost is the second major baptismal feast after Easter. “Sing a hymn, pure lambs, reborn in the washing of the font, satisfied with the body of Christ, hallelujah, hallelujah.”

Ambrosian Vespers has many texts in common with the Roman Rite, but the arrangement differs in many details. The general order is as follows: the lucernarium, a hymn originally sung while the lamps of the church were bring lit; an antiphon (by itself, and without repetition) called “in choro – in the choir”, since in the cathedral, it was sung by the cantors standing around the throne of the archbishop; the hymn; and then a responsory also called “in choro.” The Ambrosian Office puts the Veni, Creator Spiritus at Lauds, and at Vespers, sings the hymn Jam Christus astra ascenderat, which the Roman Office has at Matins. After this the psalmody begins.

An old photo of the choir of the Duomo of Milan, taken while the antiphon in choro was being sung on Epiphany; colorized by Nicola to very nice effect.

As in the Roman Rite, the psalms of Pentecost Vespers are the same as those of an ordinary Sunday, 109-113, but the first two are sung with the same antiphons as on the Sundays of Eastertide, consisting of four Hallelujahs (spelled thus, but the H is not pronounced) with psalm 109, and two with 110. The remaining three psalms are said with antiphons very similar to the first, third and fifth of the Roman antiphons. At Psalm 112, “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak in various tongues, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.”

With Psalm 113, the antiphon is “In various tongues the Apostles spoke of the mighty deeds of God, hallelujah, hallelujah.”

Following the psalmody, an oration is said, then the Magnificat with its antiphon. The antiphon with which is it said on Pentecost has no parallel in the Roman Office, but many other Uses have one similar to it which was said on one of the two days after the octave of the Ascension. “The Holy Spirit will teach you, hallelujah, what you must say, hallelujah.”

The Magnificat is followed by another oration, and then two chants called psallendae, which were originally supposed to accompany some kind of procession, and in some cases still do. These are each sung with the doxology, and repeated, then followed by two versicles called completoria, and another oration. Psall. I “My peace I give you, hallelujah, my peace I leave you, hallelujah.”

Complet. I “Thy kingdom, o Lord, hallelujah, and Thy dominion in every generation and descent, hallelujah, hallelujah.”

Complet. II “Blessed art Thou, o Lord, God of our fathers, and praiseworthy and glorious unto the ages, hallelujah.”

Psall. II “Jesus commanded them saying, that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but await the promise of the father, hallelujah.”

Complet. I “For thou lightest my lamp, o Lord: o my God enlighten my darkness.”

Complet. II “Blessed art Thou, o Lord, God of our fathers, and praiseworthy and glorious unto the ages, hallelujah.” (This is the same text as the second completorium above, but sung with a shorter melody.)

Durandus on the Liturgy of Pentecost Monday

The liturgy of Pentecost) Monday shows that the law was given not only to the Jews, but also to the gentiles, whence the Introit is, “He fed them with the richness of wheat,” that is, with spiritual understanding, “and with honey out of the rock,” that is, with the teaching of Christ, which flows like honey. ... This is said in the Epistle (Acts 10, 34 and 42-48), “Peter (i.e. the rock) opening his mouth” etc. And the wheat is Christ, whose richness is the Holy Spirit, ... in whom are all the treasures of wisdom and the knowledge of God. (Col. 2, 3)

Introitus, Ps. 80 Cibávit eos ex ádipe frumenti, allelúia: et de petra, melle saturávit eos, allelúia, allelúia. V. Exsultáte Deo, adjutóri nostro: jubiláte Deo Iacob. Glória Patri Cibávit eos...

Introit Ps. 80 He fed them with the richness of wheat, alleluia: and filled them with honey from the rock, alleluia, alleluia. V. Rejoice to God our helper: sing aloud to the God of Jacob. Glory be... He fed them...

The Gospel (John 3, 16-21) seems to have nothing to do with the Holy Spirit, but it agrees with the Epistle, for it also shows that the law was given not only to the Jews, but also to the gentiles, saying, “God so loved the world,” understand, not only the Jews, “that he gave his only begotten son”, and afterwards it follows, “that everyone who believes in him may not perish.” Note the fearful saying that he who does not believe has already been judged. Furthermore, because mention is made of love, the Holy Spirit, who is love, is mentioned enough, as in the Communio.

Communio, John 14, 26 Spíritus Sanctus docébit vos, allelúia: quæcumque díxero vobis, allelúia, allelúia. (The Holy Spirit will teach you, alleluia: whatever I have said to you, alleluia, alleluia.)

And it should be known through this whole week, the signs of solemnity are kept, such as the Gloria in excelsis, Credo, Ite Missa est, Te Deum and Alleluia, so that we may all rejoice together at the salvation of the baptized, and be a figure of the fullness of future joy.

Finally it should be noted that the Lord did not preach to the gentiles personally, but through the Apostles, when He says, “go ye therefore, teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Christ giving the Great Commission to the Disciples; stained-glass window in the co-cathedral of St Patrick, Dundalk, County Louth, Ireland. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Andreas F Borchert, CC BY-SA 3.0 DE)

The Mass of Pentecost Monday at Chartres Cathedral earlier today, the closure of the famous annual pilgrimage, once again attended by a record number of participants this year.