In the Roman Rite, the Gospel of the feast of St Stephen is St Matthew 23, 34-39, as attested in the very oldest surviving lectionaries.
“Behold I send to you prophets, and wise men, and scribes: and some of them you will put to death and crucify, and some you will scourge in your synagogues, and persecute from city to city: That upon you may come all the just blood that hath been shed upon the earth, from the blood of Abel the just, even unto the blood of Zacharias the son of Barachias, whom you killed between the temple and the altar. Amen I say to you, all these things shall come upon this generation. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered together thy children, as the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, and thou wouldest not? Behold, your house shall be left to you, desolate. For I say to you, you shall not see me henceforth till you say: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.”
This passage was perhaps chosen because of what St Jerome writes about it in his commentary on the Gospel of St Matthew, as read in the Breviary, that among the prophets, wise men and scribes named by Christ, “Stephen was stoned, Paul killed, Peter crucified, and the disciples scourged (as stated) in the Acts of the Apostles.” (Commentary on Matthew, book 4)
In the Ambrosian liturgy, on the other hand, a completely different passage is used, Matthew 17, 23-26. This is the only Milanese Gospel of the Christmas octave which diverges completely from the Roman lectionary tradition. [1]
“When they were come to Capharnaum, they that received the didrachmas, came to Peter and said to him: Doth not your master pay the didrachmas? He said: Yes. And when he was come into the house, Jesus prevented him, saying: What is thy opinion, Simon? The kings of the earth, of whom do they receive tribute or custom? of their own children, or of strangers? And he said: Of strangers. Jesus said to him: Then the children are free. But that we may not scandalize them, go to the sea, and cast in a hook: and that fish which shall first come up, take: and when thou hast opened its mouth, thou shalt find a stater: take that, and give it to them for me and thee.”
The Tribute Money, by Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Simone (1401-28), better known as Masaccio, 1425; in the Brancacci Chapel of the church of Santa Maria del Carmine in Florence.
St Hilary of Poitiers (ca. 310-365, bishop ca. 350) interpreted the fish in this episode as a figure of St Stephen, the first to be caught by the hook of St Peter’s preaching, (Commentary on Matthew, cap. 17, 13), who then “preached the glory of God, beholding the Lord Christ in his passion.” St Ambrose, who became bishop of Milan roughly a decade after St Hilary’s death, repeats this interpretation in three different places.
“Therefore, he cast the nets, and seized hold of Stephen, who was the first to arise from the Gospel, having the stater of justice in his mouth.” (Hexameron, 5, 6, 16)
“And perhaps this first fish is the first martyr, having the didrachma, that is, the price of the census, in his mouth. Christ is our didrachma. Therefore, the first martyr, Stephen, had in his mouth the treasure, when he spoke of Christ in his passion” (Exposition of the Gospel according to Luke, 4, 75)
“In this ship, Peter is fishing, and is ordered to fish now with the net, now with a hook. A great mystery! For this seems to be a spiritual fishing, by which he is ordered to cast the hook of teaching into the world, so that he might raise up the first martyr, Stephen, from the sea, who contained the price of Christ within himself; for Christ’s martyr is the Church’s treasure. Therefore, that Martyr who was the first to come up to heaven from the sea, captured as a minister of the altar by Peter, is lifted up not with a net, but with a hook, so that by the stream of his blood he might be lifted up to heaven. And in his mouth was the treasure, when the spoke of Christ in his confession.” (On Virginity 120)
We see, therefore, that St Ambrose was well aware of the tradition that linked this Gospel to the passion of St Stephen. As in many other cases, he bears witness to the earliest stage of the codification of a liturgical tradition, which he receive from his predecessors, and from which he then draws inspiration for his own theological and catechetical reflections. And indeed, this tradition is also attested in the very oldest liturgical books of both the Ambrosian and Gallican rites, although they date from several centuries later.
In yet another example of the false irenicism so predominant among the post-Conciliar reformers, the traditional Roman Gospel for St Stephen was not just changed on the feast itself, but deleted from the lectionary entirely. When the time comes to reform the liturgy correctly, and fix the innumerable mistakes of this sort which plague the new lectionary, we would do well the follow the example of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church, who received what was passed on to them, and faithfully transmitted it to the generations that followed, rather than change liturgical tradition to chase after the approval of the passing age.
The lighting of the “faro” at the parish church of St Stephen in Santo Stefano Ticino (west of Milan) in 2018.
[1] At the three Masses of Christmas, the Ambrosian Rite reads the same Gospels as the Roman, but exchanges the places of those of the Midnight and Day Masses. At the Midnight Mass, the Prologue of St John is shortened to just five verses (9-14), but the complete passage is read at the Mass within the octave on December 31. The Ambrosian Gospel of St Thomas of Canterbury is longer by two verses (John 10, 11-18).
This article is partly taken from an item written by Nicola de’ Grandi.
The Roman Breviary traditionally has only two proper hymns for Christmas, Jesu Redemptor omnium, which is said at Vespers and Matins, and A solis ortus cardine at Lauds. The church of Rome took a long time to accept the use of hymns in the Office at all, and in its habitual liturgical conservatism, adopted fewer of them than other medieval Uses did; although the major liturgical seasons have three proper hymns, one for Matins, one for Lauds and one for Vespers, most feasts have only two, that of either Vespers or Lauds being sung also at Matins.
One of the gems which is therefore not found in the historical Roman Use is the Christmas hymn Veni, Redemptor gentium, which is attributed on strong evidence to St Ambrose himself. It is quoted by Ss Augustine and Pope Celestine I (422-32), both of whom knew Ambrose personally, the latter attributing it to him explicitly, as does Cassiodorus in the following century. It was sung at Vespers of Christmas in the Ambrosian Rite, of course, in the Sarum Use, and by the religious orders which retained their proper liturgical Uses after Trent, the Dominicans, Carmelites, and Premonstratensians.
In many parts of Germany, it was sung in Advent, rather than Christmas; the last stanza before the doxology “Praesepe jam fulget tuum – Thy cradle here shall glitter bright” was omitted, however, until it was sung for the last time at First Vespers of Christmas. In the post-Conciliar Office, it is sung in Advent without the German variant, and without the stanza “Egressus ejus a Patre.”
Here are two versions, one in plainchant, and a second in alternating chant and polyphony. The English translation by John Mason Neale (1851) is one of his finest such efforts, both for its literary merit as English and its exactitude as a translation.
Veni, Redemptor gentium, Come, Thou Redeemer of the earth,
Ostende partum Vírginis: And manifest Thy virgin birth:
Mirétur omne saeculum: Let every age adoring fall;
Talis decet partus Deum. Such birth befits the God of all.
Non ex viríli sémine, Begotten of no human will,
Sed mýstico spirámine But of the Spirit, Thou art still
Verbum Dei factum caro, The Word of God in flesh arrayed
Fructusque ventris flóruit. The promised Fruit to man displayed.
Alvus tumescit Vírginis, The virgin womb that burden gained
Claustra pudóris pérmanent, With virgin honor all unstained;
Vexilla virtútum micant, The banners there of virtue glow;
Versátur in templo Deus. God in His temple dwells below.
Procédens de thálamo suo, Forth from His chamber goeth He,
Pudóris aulo regia, That royal home of purity,
Géminae gigans substantiae A giant in twofold substance one,
Alácris ut currat viam. Rejoicing now His course to run.
Egressus ejus a Patre, From God the Father He proceeds,
Regressus ejus ad Patrem: To God the Father back He speeds;
Excursus usque ad ínferos His course He runs to death and hell,
Recursus ad sedem Dei. Returning on God’s throne to dwell.
Aequális aeterno Patri, O equal to the Father, Thou!
Carnis trophaeo accíngere: Gird on Thy fleshly mantle now;
Infirma nostri córporis The weakness of our mortal state
Virtúte firmans pérpeti. With deathless might invigorate.
Praesépe jam fulget tuum, Thy cradle here shall glitter bright,
Lumenque nox spirat novum, And darkness breathe a newer light,
Quod nulla nox intérpolet, Where endless faith shall shine serene,
Fidéque jugi lúceat. And twilight never intervene.
Gloria tibi, Dómine, O Jesu, Virgin-born, to thee
Qui natus es de Vírgine, Eternal praise and glory be,
Cum Patre et sancto Spíritu, Whom with the Father we adore
In sempiterna sæcula. Amen. And Holy Spirit, evermore.
Beáta víscera Maríae Vírginis, quae portavérunt aeterni Patris Filium: et beáta úbera, quae lactavérunt Christum Dóminum: * Qui hodie pro salúte mundi de Vírgine nasci dignátus est. V. Dies sanctificátus illuxit nobis: veníte, gentes, et adoráte Dóminum. Qui hódie... (The seventh responsory of Christmas Matins.)
The Adoration of the Shepherds, by Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1483-5, from the Sassetti Chapel at the church of the Holy Trinity in Florence. The artist portrayed himself as the shepherd closest to the Christ Child, pointing Him out to the others; his hand is also right next to the garland sculpted on the sarcophagus being used as a manger, since his name derives from the Italian word for ‘garland.’ The Latin inscription on the sarcophagus refers to a legend that when the Romans captured Jerusalem in 63BC, an augur named Fulvius, who was killed in the siege, had prophesied the coming of Christ: “As he fell by Pompey’s sword in Jerusalem, the augur Fulvius said ‘The urn that covereth me shall bring forth a god.’ ”
R. Blessed be the womb of the Virgin Mary, which bore the Son of the Eternal Father, and blessed be the breasts which give milk to Christ the Lord, * Who on this day hath deigned to be born of a Virgin for the salvation of the world. V. A hallowed day hath dawned upon us; o come, ye nations, and worship the Lord. Who on this day...
A polyphonic setting by the Portuguese composter João Rodrigues Esteves (ca. 1700-51).On behalf of the publisher and writers of New Liturgical Movement, I wish all of our readers a Merry Christmas, and every blessing from the Child that is born unto us! By the prayers of the Holy Mother of God and all the Saints, may God grant peace and healing to the Church and to the world in the coming year.
The following post is largely based on notes written by our Ambrosian writer Nicola de’ Grandi.
Christmas Eve is one of three occasions, along with Epiphany and Pentecost, on which the Ambrosian Mass is celebrated in a special form in the middle of First Vespers of the feast. (An analogous custom is followed on Holy Thursday, but with some significant differences.) This is one of the oldest traditions of the Ambrosian Rite, and long predates its adoption of the Roman custom of having three different Masses for Christmas. Although the service shares some of penitential character of the Roman vigil of Christmas, it is celebrated in white, and was originally the Milanese equivalent of the Roman Midnight Mass.
The beginning of the Mass of Christmas Eve in an Ambrosian Missal printed in 1594.
In the Ambrosian Office, almost every feature is introduced by “Dominus vobiscum”; I will omit the frequent repetition of it from this description. Vespers begins with a responsory which is called a lucernarium; the repertoire of these is very limited, but Christmas does have its own.
R. (Psalm 131) Paravi lucernam Christo meo: inimicos ejus induam confusione; * super ipsum autem florebit sanctificatio mea. V. Memento, Domine, David et omnis mansuetudinis ejus: Super ipsum... Paravi lucernam… sanctificatio mea.
(I have prepared a lamp for my anointed one; his enemies I will clothe with confusion, but upon him will my sanctification flourish. O Lord, remember David, and all his meekness.)
There follows the hymn Intende qui regis Israël, which was composed by St Ambrose himself. This is not found in the Breviary of St Pius V or its medieval predecessors, but was sung in many other Uses of the Roman Divine Office, omitting the first stanza (a paraphrase of some verses of Psalm 79.) It is therefore more commonly known by the opening words of the second stanza, Veni, Redemptor gentium. (Full text at this post: https://www.newliturgicalmovement.org/2019/12/st-ambroses-christmas-hymn-veni.html)
A recording of part of the Ambrosian version by the mighty Schola Hungarica:
The hymn is regularly followed by another responsory, call “in Choro”, since in the cathedral it was sung by the clergy standing around the throne of the archbishop, who led the chanting of it. (Many features of the Ambrosian Office are assigned to specific offices within the cathedral chapter.) The text is repeated from parts of the preceding hymn.
R. Praesepe jam fulget tuum, lumenque nox spirat novum. * Veni, Redemptor gentium, ostende partum Virginis. V. Non ex virili semine, sed divino spiramine. Veni…
(Thy cradle already shines, and the night breathes a new light: come, Redeemer of the nations, show forth the Virgin’s childbirth, not from the seed of man, but by the breath of the Spirit.)
At this point, Vespers is interrupted, and four prophecies from the Old Testament are sung, each concerning the promise of the birth of a child. Each of these is followed by a chant called a Psalmellus, similar to a Roman gradual, and then a prayer.
1. Isaiah 7, 10-17; 8, 4 (Emmanuel, i.e. God is with us, the prophecy of the Messiah and the Virgin Birth, cited in the Gospel of this Mass.)
Psalmellus Tui sunt caeli, et tua est terra: orbem terrarum, et plenitudinem ejus * tu fundasti. V. Misericordias tuas, Domine, in æternum cantabo: in generatione, et progenie pronunciabo veritatem tuam in ore me. Tu fundasti.
(Thine are the heavens, and thine is the earth; the world and the fullness thereof didst Thou found. V. Thy mercies, o Lord, forever will I sing; to generation and generation I will speak forth Thy truth with my mouth.)
Oratio Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, qui in Filii tui Domini nostri Jesu Christi Nativitate tribuisti totius religionis initium perfectionemque constare: da nobis, quæsumus, in ejus portione censeri, in quo totius salutis humanæ summa consistit. Qui tecum.
(Almighty and everlasting God, who in the birth of Thy Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, did grant that the beginning and perfection of all religion should be established; grant us, we ask, to be counted among His portion in whom the fullness of all human salvation consists, even Him who with Thee…)
2. Judges 13, 2-9 (Sampson, who like Christ is called a “Nazarene”, i.e. one consecrated to God.)
Psalmellus Nascetur nobis parvulus, et vocabitur Deus fortis: * ipse sedebit super thronum David, et imperabit. V. Magnus Dominus, et laudabilis nimis in civitate Dei nostri, in monte sancto ejus. Ipse sedebit…
(A child shall be born to us, and he shall be called the mighty God: he shall sit upon the throne of David and rule. V. Great is the Lord, and exceedingly to be praised in the city of our God upon his holy mountain. He shall sit…)
OratioDeus, qui populo tuo integrum præstitisti redemptionis effectum, ut non solum Unigeniti tui Nativitate corporea, sed etiam Crucis ejus patibulo salvaretur: hujus, quæsumus, fidei famulis tuis tribue firmitatem; ut usque ad promissum gloriæ tuæ præmium, ipso gubernante, perveniant. Qui tecum.
(God, who granted to Thy people the complete effect of redemption, so that it might be saved not only by corporeal Birth of Thy only-begotten Son, but also by the gibbet of his cross; grant, we ask, to thy servants constancy in this faith, that they may come unto the promised reward of Thy glory, under the governance of Him who with thee…)
3. Genesis 15, 1-10 (Isaac)
Psalmellus Salvator noster descendit de coelo, per Mariæ Virginis uterum: ab Angelis collaudatur, * et vocatur admirabilis Deus. V. Regnum teneo virginitatis, et Regem genui. Et vocatur admirabilis Deus.
(Our Savior has come down from heaven through the womb of Mary the Virgin; He is praised by the angels, and is called the wonderful God. V. I hold the kingdom of virginity, and I have begotten the king, and he is called…)
Oratio Exaudi nos, Domine Redemptor noster, beata tempora celebrantes, quibus tua caelestis æternitas humanis infusa pectoribus assumpsit hominem liberandum. Qui cum Patre.
(Hear us, o Lord our Redeemer, as we celebrate these blessed times, in which Thy heavenly eternity, poured forth upon the breasts of men, took up the liberation of man. Who with the Father…)
Hannah Presents Samuel to Eli, 1665, by the Dutch painter Gerbrand van den Eeckhout (1621-74).
4. 1 Samuel 1, 7-17 (Samuel)
Psalmellus Obsecro, Domine, ut Angelus, quem misisti, veniat iterum, et doceat nos, quid operemur in puerum, * qui nasciturus est nobis. V. Tollite portas Principis vestri, et elevamini, portæ æternales; ut introeat Rex gloriæ, qui nasciturus est nobis.
(I beseech Thee, o Lord, that the Angel whom Thou sent they come again, and teach us what we should do for the boy who is to be born unto us. V. Lift up the gates of your Prince, and be lifted up, you everlasting doors, that the king of glory may come in who is to be born unto us.)
While this last psalmellus is being sung, the celebrant changes from cope to chasuble, and approaches the altar for beginning of the Mass, the first prayer of which serves as the prayer to this last prophecy.
The Mass is celebrated in a form which is particular to these vigils, in which all the antiphons are omitted, with the exception of a brief chant called a cantus between the Epistle (itself only two verses long, Hebrews 10, 38-39) and the Gospel, Matthew 1, 18-25. The Ambrosian Mass has no Kyrie or Agnus Dei, and the Gloria and Creed are omitted, so the Sanctus is the only part of the Ordinary which is used.
Oratio super populum (the equivalent of the Roman Collect) Deus, qui hunc diem sacratissimum per Incarnationem Verbi tui, et partum Mariæ Virginis consecrasti, da populis tuis in hac celebritate consortium : ut, qui tua gratia sunt redempti, tua sint protectione securi. Per eundem…
(God, who consecrated this most sacred day through the incarnation of Thy word and the childbirth of the Virgin Mary; grant to thy peoples a share in this celebration, that they who have been redeemed by Thy grace maybe safe under Thy protection. Through the same…)
Cantus Qui regis Israel, intende: qui deducis, velut ovem, Joseph. (Thou who rulest Israel hearken, who leadest forth Joseph like a sheep. Ps. 79, 1)
Oratio super sindonem (i.e. ‘over the shroud’ said after the deacon has spread the corporal on the altar at the beginning of the Offertory rite.) Deus, qui humanæ substantiæ dignitatem mirabiliter condidisti, et mirabilius reformasti: da nobis, quæsumus, Jesu Christi Filii tui divinitatis esse consortes, qui humanitatis nostræ dignatus est fieri particeps. Qui tecum…
(O God, who did wonderfully create human nature, and more wonderfully reform it; grant us, we ask, that we may have a share in the divinity of Jesus Christ, Thy Son, who deigned to become a partaker of our humanity. Who with Thee…)
This very ancient prayer for Christmas is found in the oldest surviving collection of Roman liturgical texts, the so-called Leonine Sacramentary, and was, of course, later added to the Offertory prayers of the Mass.
Oratio super oblatam (i.e. the Secret, but sung out loud in the Ambrosian Rite.) Præ cæteris solemnitatibus gloriantes, hodie tibi, Domine, vota persolvimus: quia ipse, cujus corpus immolamus, immaculatus Agnus est editus Jesus Christus Dominus noster. Qui tecum.
(Glorying more than on the other solemn feasts, today, o Lord, we offer Thee our prayers, because He himself whose body we sacrifice, the immaculate Lamb, is brought forth, Jesus Christ our Lord, who with Thee…
The Preface Per Christum, Dóminum nostrum: Cuius hodie faciem in confessióne praevenímus, et voce súpplici exorámus, ut superventúrae noctis officiis nos ita pervígiles reddat: ut sincéris méntibus eius percípere mereámur Natále ventúrum. In quo invisíbilis ex substantia tua, visíbilis per carnem appáruit in nostra. Tecumque unus non témpore génitus, non natúra inferior, ad nos venit ex témpore natus. Per quem maiestátem tuam…
Truly... Through Christ our Lord. Before whose presence we come today in thanksgiving, and pray with humble voice, that by the offices of the coming night, He may make us ever watchful, such that we may merit to receive the feast of His Birth that is to come with all our heart. On which feast, though of Thy substance invisible, through the flesh He appeared as one visible in ours; and being one with Thee, begotten, but not in time, nor less than Thee in nature, was born in time and came to us. Through whom the Angels praise Thy majesty etc.
Oratio post Communionem Sacrosancti Corporis et Sanguinis Domini nostri Jesu Christi refectione vegetati, supplices te rogamus, omnipotens Deus: ut hoc remedium singulare ab omnium peccatorum nos contagione purificet. Per eundem…
Quickened by the refreshment of the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, we humbly ask Thee, almighty God, that this singular remedy may purify us from the contagion of all sins. Through the same…
When the Mass is completed, Vespers resumes with the psalms and Magnificat, which are arranged in a very ancient manner unique to the Ambrosian Rite. The first psalm is verses 2-7 of Psalm 84 (verse 1 is the title), to which are attached psalms 133 and 116, all sung together as if they were a single psalm, with the following antiphon, “Veniet ex Sion qui eripiat et avertat impietatem ab Iacob.” (He shall come from Sion to deliver and turn away impiety from Jacob. ~ It begins at 4:42 in this recording.)
This is followed by a prayer: “Tribue nobis, quaesumus, omnipotens Deus: ut, qui Unigenitum tuum manentem in tua gloria Deum, in carne nostri corporis natum per sacrosanctam Mariam Virginem confitentur, nulla possint adversa schismaticorum opinione perverti. Per eundem...” (Grant to us, we ask, almighty God, that they who confess that Thy only-begotten Son, God abiding in Thy glory, was born in the flesh of our body through the most holy Virgin Mary, may not be able to be led astray by any contrary opinion of schismatics. Through the same Christ our Lord...).
Next is the rest of Psalm 84 (verses 8-14), with the antiphon “Veni, Redemptor gentium, ostende partum Virginis”, and another prayer in a very similar vein to the previous one. “Da, quaesumus, Domine, populo tuo inviolabilis fidei firmitatem: ut, qui Unigenitum tuum in tua gloria tecum sempiternum, in veritate nostri corporis natum de Matre Virgine confitentur, et a praesentibus liberentur adversis, et mansuris gaudiis inserantur. Per eundem...” (Grant to Thy people, we ask, o Lord, the firmless of inviolable faith, that they who confess that Thy only-begotten Son, everlasting with Thee in Thy glory, was born in the reality of our body from the Virgin Mother, may be delievered from present adversities, and be brought unto abiding joys. Through the same Christ our Lord...)
Finally, the Magnificat is sung (7:08 in the video above), followed by yet another prayer. The antiphon is one of a handful of Ambrosian “double” antiphons, which are sung in full before and after their psalm or canticle. The text is the same verses of Exodus (16, 6 and 17) used for the invitatory and Mass Introit of Christmas Eve in the Roman Rite, and the concluding prayer is that of the Roman vigil Mass.
Aña Hodie scietis, quia veniet Dominus, et mane videbitis Gloriam Dei. (Today ye shall know that the Lord will come, and in the morning, ye shall see His glory.)
Oratio Deus, qui nos redemptiónis nostrae ánnua exspectatióne laetíficas: praesta; ut Unigénitum tuum, quem Redemptórem laeti suscípimus, venientem quoque Júdicem secúri videámus, Dóminum nostrum Jesum Christum, Fílium tuum... (O God, Who dost gladden us with the yearly expectation of our redemption, grant that we, who now welcome with joy Thy only-begotten Son as our Redeemer, may also gaze upon Him without fear when He comes as our judge, even our Lord Jesus Christ, Thy Son...)
The Gospels according to Matthew and Luke provide the only canonical accounts that we have of the birth of Jesus Christ. According to these narratives, the Blessed Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph completed the first stage of a first-century Jewish wedding (the signing of the marriage contract) but not the second (the introduction of the bride to her husband’s home, which could be months and sometimes more than a year later). During that waiting period, Mary conceived the Christ Child through the agency of the Holy Spirit, and then left town for three months to help her aged cousin Saint Elizabeth give birth to Saint John the Baptist. When she returned, Saint Joseph noticed that she was with child. After being told by an angel in a dream to take Mary to wife (that is, to complete the second stage of the wedding) and to adopt Jesus as his own, he did so.
As the time drew near for Mary to bear her Son, the Holy Couple traveled from their home in Nazareth to Bethlehem in order to be enrolled in a Roman census. Because there was no room for them in any inn (that is, a room for their special needs), Mary delivered her Child in a stable, which according to oral tradition was a sheltered cave (upon which Bethlehem’s Basilica of the Nativity now stands). Angels announced to nearby shepherds the good news, who came to adore Him, and Magi from the East who had been following a star did so as well, but only after they paid a visit to King Herod and inquired into the whereabouts of the newborn King. The question unsettled the paranoid and nefarious Herod, and so he ordered the death of all baby boys in Bethlehem in an attempt to eliminate the competition. Joseph, however, was warned of Herod’s plot in a dream and fled with the Holy Family to Egypt. After Herod died, another dream told Joseph that it was safe to return to Nazareth.
The Flight into Egypt, by Giambattista Tiepolo, 1764-70
Critics of the infancy narratives claim that the facts do not add up: Herod the Great was not king when the census of Quirinus was taken but died four years prior to the birth of Christ; the census would not have been taken during the winter and would not have required bringing one’s expectant wife; there were no astronomical anomalies (no “Christmas star”) that we know of in 1 B.C.-1 A.D., and so forth. Biblical critics also claim that because the story of Jesus’ birth resembles that of Moses in some respects (both, for example, involve the slaughter of innocent boys), it must be fictitious.
Defendants, however, point to other considerations: the Christmas star need not have been an astronomical event (it could have been a miraculous apparition limited to the Magi); one should not be hasty in drawing conclusions about dating because it is difficult to align three different ancient calendars (the Jewish lunar calendar, the Roman solar calendar, and a different Greek solar calendar); the conclusion that Herod died in 4 B.C. (four years prior to the birth of Christ) is based on a miscalculation of a passage in the writings of Flavius Josephus; and if you posit that the Magi met the Holy Family after their return to Nazareth rather than, as is popularly imagined, in the stable at Bethlehem, the chronology lines up. As for the belief that the story of Christ’s birth must be false because it resembles Moses’, there is no logical necessity to think so. The resemblance could be coincidental or better yet, part of God’s master plan, in which case the parallels are proof of the story’s veracity rather than its falsity. What is one man’s fiction is another’s divine providence.
Dates
As for when to observe Jesus Christ’s birthday, we know that in the late second or early third century Christians in Egypt celebrated Christ’s birth and His baptism as an adult in the River Jordan on January 6, and that other Eastern-rite Christians eventually followed suit. In Rome, on the other hand, there is evidence that Christmas was celebrated on December 25 as early as A.D. 336. Eventually (from the fourth century on), the East adopted December 25 as the date of Christ’s birth and January 6 as the date of His baptism while the West kept its Christmas date of December 25 and adopted January 6 as the visit of the Magi (though it also commemorated Christ’s baptism on January 6). To this day, there is a difference in emphasis between the calendars of Western Christians and Eastern. In the West, there is a build-up to Christmas as the big day and then a plateauing or denouement that lasts until Epiphany (January 6). In the East, Christmas Day is important but “Theophany” (January 6) is the grand high point of the season and second only to Easter in the entire year.
How these dates were chosen remains a hotly debated topic. There are three main theories.
The first, the “History of Religion” theory, is that Christians in Rome chose December 25 to supplant a Roman pagan festival called the Birth of the Unconquered Sun (Sol Invictus), and that Christians in Egypt chose January 6 to supplant an Egyptian festival to the god Aion, who was born of a virgin. Although this theory has enjoyed the most scholarly support over the years, it has been criticized for overlooking one important detail. It is true that Christmas may not have been celebrated on December 25 until 336, but Christians were nonetheless talking about December 25 as the date of Jesus’ birthday as early as 240. The Roman feast of the Unconquered Sun, on the other hand, was not instituted until 274. Did Christians try to coopt a pagan feast, or did pagans try to coopt a Christian date? Most likely, the Roman Emperor Aurelian, who instituted the Unconquered Sun, was more concerned about the winter solstice (which at the time fell on December 25) than about stealing thunder from a small religious minority. Either way, Christians were not thinking of pagan customs when they first arrived at a date for their Savior’s birth.
Sol Invictus
Which brings us to the second hypothesis called the “Calculation” theory. According to this view, early Christians were influenced by the Jewish notion of an “integral age,” the belief that the prophets died on the same date as their birth. Some early Christians calculated that April 6 was the date of Christ’s crucifixion while others thought that it was March 25. March 25 became the date of Christ’s conception in the womb (the feast of the Annunciation), and nine months after March 25 is December 25. Similarly, if you add nine months to April 6, you get January 6. The theory is intriguing, but unfortunately there is no evidence that the early Church knew about the rabbinical belief in an integral age, nor does the theory explain why Christians allegedly modified the belief from a two-pronged focus on birth and death to the three prongs of conception, birth, and death.
Finally, some authors hold that Jesus Christ was indeed born on or around December 25. King David had divided the Levitical priesthood into twenty-four “courses” (1 Chron. 24, 7-18). The Gospel according to Saint Luke records that Zechariah, who was burning incense in the Temple when he had a vision of St. Gabriel the Archangel, was in the course of Abijah (1, 5). Drawing from Talmudic sources, we can conclude that Zechariah’s turn to serve in the Temple as a member of his course most likely happened a year before Christ’s birth during the week of September 5-11. John the Baptist was conceived shortly after (Luke 1, 23-24), which would place his birth somewhere between June 20 and 26. Jesus was six months’ younger than His cousin (Luke 1, 36), which means that He would have been born between December 21 and 27. This thesis, however, has yet to gain widespread acceptance.
Alexandr Ivanov, Annunciation of the Birth of John the Baptist to Zechariah, 1824
So who is right? Here is what we know:
First, in former ages and even in some places today, the date of someone’s birth was not of great concern either because it was difficult to determine or because there were more important factors to take into consideration. In ancient Greece, Plato’s birthday was celebrated on the Feast of Apollo: the great philosopher either forgot to tell his disciples when his birthday was, or his disciples thought it more fitting to associate him with the god of light, beauty, and poetry. And in some contemporary Christian cultures, one’s name day (the feast day of the saint after whom one is named) remains a greater celebration than one’s birthday. In Japan, where the group is traditionally more important than the individual, there were no personal birthday celebrations prior to the influence of American culture in the 1950s: all girls celebrated their birthday on March 3 and all boys on May 5.
The May 5 birthday for boys is associated with koi fish kites, which are symbols of determination and energy, strength and bravery.
Second, I personally don’t think that early Christians tried to coopt a pagan holiday, but even if they did, they clearly understood the difference between their religion and what they were supplanting. Church leaders sternly rebuked converts who retained even the external symbols of the old festivals, as the writings of Tertullian, Saint Augustine, and Pope Saint Leo the Great attest. And the doctrine of the Incarnation, which teaches that Jesus Christ is 100% human and 100% divine, is not the same as talk about demigods being 50% human and 50% divine.
Understanding the pedigree of demigods requires no more imagination than following a family tree chart on ancestry.com, but understanding how the Divine Person Jesus Christ is both consubstantial with the Father and the Son of Man demands a whole new metaphysical skillset. As far as the Christian believer is concerned, there is not a pagan yearning for the gods that Christianity tries to replace; there is a human yearning for the divine that paganism responds to imperfectly and tragically, and that Christianity purifies and fulfills joyfully.
Third, say what you will, the symbolism works. The Bible describes Jesus Christ as the Light or the Sun or the Dawn, and so it is appropriate that His birthday is celebrated on or soon after the winter solstice. A Jewish boy is circumcised eight days after his birth, and so if Jesus’ birthday is celebrated on December 25, it is appropriate to commemorate His circumcision on January 1 (Lk. 2, 21). In accordance with the Mosaic Law, Jesus was presented in the Temple and His mother ritually purified forty days after His birth (Lk. 2, 22-24), and so it is appropriate to celebrate this event on February 2, the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary (aka the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord). The Bible states that John the Baptist is six months’ older than the Messiah (Lk. 1, 24-26), and so it is appropriate that his birthday is said to fall six months later (June 24). St. John the Baptist famously says of Jesus, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (Jn. 3, 30), and so it is appropriate that John’s birthday be celebrated on or after the summer solstice, when the days start to grow longer. The Blessed Virgin Mary was conceived of the Holy Spirit nine months’ prior to giving birth to Jesus, and so it is appropriate that the feast of the Annunciation is celebrated on March 25, a date that follows the Spring equinox and marks the end of the dead, dark winter and the beginning of a new era of life and rebirth.
In various medieval uses of the Roman Rite, but not in that of Rome itself, the vigil of Christmas was extended back to include the Vespers of the preceding day, December 23rd, with the addition of a special responsory to be sung between the chapter and the hymn.
R. De illa occulta habitatione sua egressus est Filius Dei; descendit visitare et consolari omnes, qui eum de toto corde desiderabant. V. Ex Sion species decoris ejus, Deus noster manifeste veniet. Descendit. Gloria Patri. Descendit. R. From that hidden habitation of His, the Son of God shall go forth; He hath come down to visit and console all those, who long for Him with all their heart. V. Out of Sion the loveliness of His beauty, our God shall come manifestly. He hath come down. Glory be. He hath come down.
Where the altars are no longer inhabited by the truth and Christian rites are no longer inspired by it, error and falsehood are imminent. Renouncing the truth has a corrosive effect. The symbolic, i.e. the composite, falls apart, degenerating into the diabolical.
Against this background, here are some remarks that concern more the personal religious life of individual Catholics than the situation of the Church. For although in circles of true believers one usually honors the truth, takes its moral implications (the good) seriously, and by no means considers the aesthetic side (the beautiful) to be of secondary importance, it can still happen here that the various areas become disconnected.
Thus, among conservative Christians, morality sometimes degenerates into a barren or even toxic moralism, robbed of its foundation in the truth of faith. It poses a greater danger to genuine morality as a whole than does open immorality. While the latter openly declares itself to be against the norms of morality and thus reveals itself as their enemy, moralism presents itself in the name of morality, but distorts it in a caricatural, sometimes downright malicious way, and thus brings it into disrepute.
The opposite danger is the separation of the true from the good and the beautiful, which becomes an end in itself. Not infrequently, the faith is present, but not strong enough to have a concrete effect on the way of life. From this point of view, for example, the liturgical celebration of this faith is either appreciated only from a taste point of view or, on the contrary, considered to be of low rank. Because the bond that should hold together truth, goodness and beauty is weakening, considerable tensions arise in the life of such a person, even to the point of inner contradiction.
Hugo von Hofmannsthal's Everyman, who is beset by death, is an extreme example of the power of holding on to faith without it shaping one's life. Everyman already has one foot in hell and is desperately looking for salvation. Faith in the form of a personification approaches him and says, “You have laughed at me all your life / And thought God's word was nothing worth, / Now in your hour of death / Is there another word coming out of your mouth?” Everyman's “I believe – I believe” stammering is answered by Faith with the remark: “That's poor talk!” Whereupon Everyman begins to apologize: “Oh, that God has mercy on me! / I believe the Twelve Articles with diligence, / Which I know from my childhood: / What they represent entirely, / I accept as sacred and true.” But according to James 2:26, faith without works is dead, like a body without a soul. So Everyman is told about the first divine virtue: “Faith is a poor part. / Don't build any bridges over to the other side. / Don't you know better?”[1]
True faith, as the Council of Trent teaches, is fundamentum et radix omnis iustifications, “foundation and root of all justification” (Decree De iustificatione, chap. 8, DH 1532), of every supernatural, salvific life. But this foundation must actually bear something, allow the root to grow out of the juices and forces it draws from the earth; otherwise it is a matter of a fides non formata caritate, a faith that is not formed by active love and therefore remains ineffective.
For this reason, I am partly, but not entirely, in agreement with Nicolás Gómez Dávila, who is always worth reading, when he, as always with a sharp pen against the trends of the time, presents the provocative aphorism: “The corpulent and horny canon who believes in God is more indisputably Christian than the strict and careworn pastor who believes in man.”[2]
Dávila is right in that faith in God is a basic requirement for being a Christian and that a humanistic “belief in man” can never replace it. However, does not gluttony and lust in their own way also challenge the indisputability of this faith? At least according to Catholic teaching, faith is only salvific if it is connected with the divine virtue of love – and that means: with the will to live according to God's commandments.
Incidentally, the following incident shows how the traditional liturgy, as it were, sends out strong signals in the area of moral life. Many years ago, I met a gentleman who, having grown up Catholic, not only distanced himself from the Church during his student days, but also openly opposed it. In the left-wing circles in which he moved, this was taken for granted. Until one day, during a protest action against a church dignitary, he was awakened as if from a deep sleep and then quickly changed sides.
In short, he reconnected with his abandoned homeland, attended church services, and even went to communion despite not having gone to confession since his childhood. The conditions for receiving the body of the Lord were not mentioned anywhere, and there was nothing to indicate that he should receive another sacrament in his condition.
Until he happened to attend a Holy Mass according to the old rite, which was unknown to him until then. Fascinated, he followed the events. And when the moment of Holy Communion arrived, he remained in the pew with the intention of confessing first. Why? Not because the priest had given any indication in his sermon. Rather, it was because the whole liturgy, but especially the approach to Communion and the manner of receiving it, said to him: You are not worthy for the Lord to come under your roof; first he must speak the word of absolution, and so your soul shall be healed.
6. Veritatis Splendor Those who prefer the traditional liturgy often sense a specific danger among the faithful: aestheticism, that is, the independence of that realm which is described with qualities such as “beautiful,” “sublime,” and “glamorous.” What can be said in response to the accusation of aestheticism?
First of all, it should be noted that an aesthetic view of the liturgy is entirely appropriate. As public worship of the visible Church, it is essentially sensual and thus falls within the αἴσθησις, perception. Its form, its structure, the atmosphere of its sacredness, the transparency of its rites and symbols in terms of their spiritual content, their sublimity – all this is, of course, the subject of aesthetic contemplation.
In this way, the traditional liturgy, whether in the rich unfolding of a pontifical mass or in the simple celebration of a requiem, will prove to be truly beautiful. For, according to St. Thomas Aquinas, beauty is that which delights the eye because it possesses perfection (perfectio), proportion and inner harmony (proportio, consonantia), as well as a certain splendor (claritas) (S.Th. I 39,8).
Who would claim that this does not apply (or should not apply!) to the Church's liturgical heritage? Her cult is indeed the perfect expression of the purest worship of God, harmonious in its inner and outer form and – as outsiders have often testified – radiant. In contemplating the liturgy, as St. Thomas again describes it as a peculiarity of the experience of beauty, human desire comes to a fulfilled rest in a knowing way (S.Th. I-II 27,1 ad 3).
This consideration of the liturgy from an aesthetic point of view must now be clearly distinguished from aestheticism, i.e. its reduction to the aesthetic sphere. To look at it in this way is forbidden by the liturgy itself. Its statements about the necessity of true faith and about the required right life are far too explicit for someone who sincerely engages with it to stop at its perceptible form.
Thus, the Credo is one of the essential components of Sunday and festival masses. The early church name for it is symbolon, meaning a “combination” of fundamental mysteries that represent pars pro toto the entire treasury of the church and are thus a mark of recognition of the true Christian. Furthermore, the liturgical prayers often ask for fidei firmitas, the “firmness of faith” (cf. the prayer of the Trinity Sunday).
Accordingly, the liturgy has faith as a prerequisite and also as an aim. It is, in the words of Klaus Gamber, “dogma celebrated.” As such, it emerges from the mysterium fidei and leads into it. To paraphrase an important remark by St. Clement of Alexandria about understanding the Old Testament (Strom. VII 17), one can say: Without right faith, the appropriate key is missing for understanding the act of worship; for with a bent or incomplete exemplar, lacking the appropriate "teeth," the lock of the sacred vault cannot be opened to access the treasures stored within.
Ultimately, the beauty of the liturgy is grounded in its truth. Beauty is veritatis splendor, the splendor of truth. According to Martin Heidegger, it is “the fate of the essence of truth, whereby truth means: the disclosure of that which hides itself”.[3] It would be better to say that not truth, but beauty is the “disclosure of that which hides itself”. In beauty, the mysterious truth is made luminously manifest, and this is particularly the case in the liturgy.
7. Conclusion
Truth is therefore the keynote of the Catholic faith, life and worship. The truth that reveals itself to us in the Christian mysteries of the triune God, of creation, incarnation and redemption, of the church, of sanctification and perfection. The truth that radiates into Christian activity, into the simple and heroic works of love, into the heart of individuals and into human communities. The truth that makes itself perceptible in acts of worship, in personal and especially liturgical prayers in their dignity, in their conciseness and abundance, their humility and solemnity, their inner abundance and outer splendor.
Without truth, morality becomes a moralistic system or a matter of mere sentiment; worship becomes a hollow, gutted externality, a mirage and, unfortunately, all too often a stage for human self-promotion. Through, with, and in truth, however, the various spheres find their place in the overall order.
That is why it is essential for the survival of Christianity to rediscover the keynote of the triad and to emphasize it, especially today. Even if the fifth or the third, the moral or the aesthetic aspect of our catholicity, is at times at the top or bottom of the chord and perhaps drowns out the main note, the whole must still be tuned to this, the truth. This becomes evident in the following encounter with the traditional liturgy of the Mass, which concludes these remarks.
In my youth, when I myself began to discover the rich heritage of Catholic tradition, I met a student who had found his way to the faith in an amazing way. At his university, a lecture was given by Max Thürkauf, a professor of technical chemistry in Basel who died in 1993 and was a convinced Catholic. With scepticism, yet also a certain fascination, the still unbelieving listener followed the lecture.
He was deeply touched by a poem that Thürkauf quoted at the end, the Adoro te devote latens Deitas, that hymn-like prayer to the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar, which in all probability was written by St. Thomas Aquinas and which in German reads: “Gottheit tief verborgen, betend nah ich Dir” (O Deity, deeply hidden, I adore You devoutly).[4] Although he was not at all familiar with the Church's Eucharistic beliefs, the student requested the text and guarded it like a treasure. He memorized the verses, even though he was not yet able to understand them. He began to search for what the Adoro te evoked, but he was unable to find it during his visits to various churches.
One day, he happened upon a service that was so very different from those he had previously experienced. It was held in the Latin language of worship and was pervaded by silence, reverence, and adoration. When the priest lifted up the consecrated host during this Holy Mass according to the traditional rite, the words came to the student's mind: Adoro te devote, latens Deitas, quae sub his figuris vere latitas. He had arrived where beauty bears witness to truth and love proclaims it. Here he did not experience a vague sense of the numinous, but recognized the One who is truth Himself. And so he was able to intone the triad with which the Holy Mass concludes, the triad of beauty of glory, goodness of grace, and the keynote of truth: “We have seen his glory, the glory of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth,” plenum gratiae et veritatis (John 1:14).
NOTES
[1] Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Jedermann. Das Spiel vom Sterben des reichen Mannes. In Dramen (Frankfurt am Main, 1979), 10–71; here, 61.
[2] Nicolás Gómez Dávila: Einsamkeiten. Glossen und Text in einem. Trans. Günther Rudolf Sigl (Vienna, 1987), 88.
[3] Martin Heidegger, Was heißt Denken? (Tübingen, 1971), 8.
[4] Ed. note: see also Dominus vobiscum no. 25, p. 22-36 [in German], available online here.
Of old, the Jews sounded trumpets to invite men to weddings, and to solemn feasts, and to move their camp; wherefore, now the Lord has commanded the prelates to sound trumpets, inviting the nations to the wedding of the King, whose day is upon us, namely, the day of the Lord’s Birth, in which Christ wedded human nature to himself, according to that which is said in the Psalm (18, 6), “And He is like a bridegroom going forth from his chamber.” (This psalm is used in some of the Masses of Advent, and at Matins of Christmas.) Sing ye, therefore, because the wedding is nigh, and for this very reason, in this week, the cantors lift up their voices higher than usual in the responsories, and in the introit, so that we who were previously weighed down by the slumber of negligence may at least be roused by the calling out and excitement of the chants.
Introitus Isa 45 Roráte, caeli, désuper, et nubes pluant justum: aperiátur terra, et gérminet Salvatórem. Ps. 18 Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei: et ópera manuum ejus annuntiat firmamentum. Gloria Patri ... Roráte... (Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the Just one, let the earth be opened, and bud forth a Savior. Ps. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims the work of His hands. Glory be... Drop down dew...)
...in the Office of this Sunday, which is drawn in part from the prophets, and in part from the Gospel... the calling of the nations is especially declared through the coming of Christ, where in the person of the Apostles and doctors is said, “Sound ye the trumpet, and call the nations.” (This is the beginning of the first responsory of Matins and the first antiphon of Lauds on the fourth Sunday of Advent. This motet by Palestrina is the text of the first and third antiphons of Lauds, and the Introit of the Mass given above.)
Canite tuba in Sion, quia prope est dies Domini; ecce veniet ad salvandum nos, alleluja, alleluja. Erunt prava in directa, et aspera in vias planas: Veni, Domine, et noli tardare. Alleluia. Rorate caeli, etc. (Sound ye the trumpet in Zion, for the day of the Lord is nigh; behold He shall come to save us, alleluia, alleluia. The crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: come, o Lord, and tarry not, alleluia. Drop down dew...)
(The following section refers to an introit which was sung on this Sunday in many medieval Uses, but is not part of the Roman repertoire.) Indeed, the gentile nations, seeing that the Godhead would be made ready in the womb of a virgin, cries out to Him in the Introit, according to the use of some churches, “Remember us, o Lord, in the good pleasure of Thy people”, that is, in Thy Son, in whom Thou was well pleased from among the thousands of people, He who was Thine from the beginning of the world. (Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, VI, 11, 2-3)
Introitus, Ps. 105 Memento nostri, Domine, in beneplacito populi tui; visita nos in salutari tuo, ad videndum in bonitate electorum tuorum, ad laetandum in laetitia gentis tuæ, ut lauderis cum haereditate tua. Ps. Confitemini Domino, quoniam bonus, quoniam in sæculum misericordia ejus. Gloria Patri... Memento... (Remember us, o Lord, in the favor of Thy people: visit us with thy salvation, that we may see the good of Thine elect, that we may rejoice in the joy of thy nation, that thou mayst be praised with thy inheritance. Ps. Praise ye the Lord, for He is good: for his mercy endureth for ever.)
O Oriens, splendor lucis aeternae, et sol justitiae: veni, et illumina sedentes in tenebris, et umbra mortis.
O Morning Star, splendor of eternal light and sun of righteousness: Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.
Mosaic of Christ the Pantocrator in Hagia Sophia, Constantinople; after 1261.
Today is also the feast of St. Thomas the Apostle; many medieval breviaries have a special O antiphon for Vespers of his feast:
O Thoma Didyme, per Christum quem meruisti tangere, te precibus rogamus altisonis, succurre nobis miseris, ne damnemur cum impiis in adventu judicis.
O Thomas the Twin, through Christ, Whom thou didst merit to touch, with prayers resounding on high we beseech thee, come to help us in our wretchedness, lest we be damned with the wicked at the Coming of the Judge.
The St. Thomas Altarpiece, by the Master of the St. Bartholomew Altar, 1501
Three years ago (how time flies!) I wrote an article in two parts on the concept of “organic development”, and why I believe it is not a particularly useful way of describing change in the liturgy, which Dr Kwasniewski followed up on with his own take on his view of how it can be useful. (links below) Yesterday, the Mass of the Ages YouTube channel posted a discussion between us about this, with Timothy Flanders, the editor of OnePeterFive, as the moderator. I almost hesitate to call it a “debate”, since, as Peter himself notes in his written article, we aren’t really in disagreement about very much on this point. We hope you find this interesting.
O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israel; qui aperis, et nemo claudit; claudis, et nemo aperit: veni, et educ vinctum de domo carceris, sedentem in tenebris, et umbra mortis.
O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel; who openest and no man shutteth; shuttest and no man openeth: come and lead the prisoners from the prison house, that sit in darkness and the shadow of death.
The Harrowing of Hell, from an Exsultet scroll of the later 11th century.
The Ember Days have been part of the Roman liturgical tradition since time immemorial, and as such they have invited much reflection. Today, as we did in September, let us turn to the author of the Golden Legend, Bl. Jacobus de Voragine (1230-98), for help in how to observe today and tomorrow, this time the Ember Friday and Ember Saturday of Advent. Jacobus offers several thoughts, which I consolidate into three categories: looking backwards or forwards; looking out; and looking in.
Looking Backwards or Forwards
Jacobus finds it commendable that we incorporate aspects of the Hebrew calendar into our liturgical and ascetical lives. Such an incorporation is not a superstitious or slavish Judaizing of the New Covenant, but an allegorical attempt to fulfill, in the path of Our Lord, every jot and tittle of the Law. It also pays due respect to our spiritual ancestors in the right key.
For the Jews fasted four times in the year, that is to wit, before Easter [Passover], before Whitsunside [the Jewish feast of Shavuoth], before the setting of the Tabernacle in the Temple in September [Yom Kippur and Sukkoth], and before the dedication of the Temple in December [Hanukkah].
The September Embertide is a good example of “looking back” insofar as some of its propers honor the Hebrew calendar. The first lesson (Lev. 23, 26-32) and the Epistle (Heb. 9, 2-12) of the September Ember Saturday are about the Feast of the Atonement or Yom Kippur, and the second lesson (Lev. 23, 39-43) is about the Feast of Tabernacles or Sukkoth.
The December Ember Days, however, are dominated by the liturgical season in which they find themselves. And since that season, the season of Advent, looks forward to the coming of Jesus Christ, so do they. Ember Saturday is replete with Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah, while Ember Wednesday honors the Annunciation and Ember Friday the Visitation.
Fra Angelico’s Cortona altarpiece of the Annunciation, 1433-34.
Looking Out
In the Northern hemisphere, December is wintertime, and for Jacobus, this season of want and lifelessness is a call to go and do likewise:
In December there is also a fast, and this is the fourth: in this time the herbs die, and we ought to be mortified to the world.
Looking Within
Combining the qualities of seasonal weather with the four humors (and drawing from St. John Damascene), Jacobus also sees an opportunity for addressing particular temperamental weaknesses and vices throughout the course of the year. Since winter is cold and moist, it produces more phlegm in the human body, and thus the Advent Embertide is for phlegmatics and for a battle with "the phlegm of lightness and forgetting" (to which phlegmatics are prone) as well as a battle against the "coldness of untruth and malice" (to which all are prone). The Lenten Embertide, by contrast, is for sanguines and for a battle with concupiscence and luxury, the Whitsun Embertide is for cholerics and for a battle with wrath and avarice, and the September Embertide is for melancholics and for a battle with pride.
The Four Temperaments by Virgil Solis, 1530-62, via The British Museum, London
The phlegmatic temperament in the above illustration is personified as a woman sitting on water (a link to the elemental connotations of the four humors). She holds a spit in her right hand and a rattle in her left. An owl is on her shoulder, and behind her is an ass. Can anyone make out the Latin inscription? And any guesses on the various symbols?
O Radix Jesse, qui stas in signum populorum, super quem continebunt reges os suum, quem gentes deprecabuntur: veni ad liberandum nos, jam noli tardare.
O Root of Jesse, which standest as a sign to the peoples, at whom kings shall shut their mouths, whom the gentiles shall beseech, come to deliver us, delay thou not!
The Tree of Jesse, from the chapel of the Conception of the Virgin and of St. Anne in the cathedral of Burgos, Spain.
We continue our translation of P. Bernward Deneke FSSP's lecture. See here for Part 1. - PAK
3. The basis of the Christian creed
It is now time to examine the matter of truth within the sphere of the Christian religion. This should be done on the basis of the following problem: What is the answer of a serious Catholic to the question of why he professes and practices this faith, of all things?
Reasons of subjective utility, such as pointing to personal advantages, the resulting prestige and social advancement, do not come into question; they have been eliminated almost everywhere in our time. The days when one had to be baptized a Catholic in order to become General Music Director in Vienna, like Gustav Mahler, are over.
Instead, motives of personal preference may be offered as an answer, for example in the subjective form: “Catholicism is simply beautiful, it corresponds to my personal taste,” or in a more objective form: “The Catholic world of faith, life and worship meets the highest aesthetic standards, which are not found in any other Christian denomination or other religion.”
There are indeed sincere people who find their way to the Catholic faith on the via aesthetica. The fascination that emanates in particular from our liturgy is described with a strong autobiographical coloring by Oscar Wilde in the 11th chapter of his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray:
It was rumoured of him once that he was about to join the Roman Catholic communion, and certainly the Roman ritual had always a great attraction for him. The daily sacrifice, more awful really than all the sacrifices of the antique world, stirred him as much by its superb rejection of the evidence of the senses as by the primitive simplicity of its elements and the eternal pathos of the human tragedy that it sought to symbolize. He loved to kneel down on the cold marble pavement and watch the priest, in his stiff flowered dalmatic, slowly and with white hands moving aside the veil of the tabernacle, or raising aloft the jewelled, lantern-shaped monstrance with that pallid wafer that at times, one would fain think, is indeed the "panis caelestis," the bread of angels, or, robed in the garments of the Passion of Christ, breaking the Host into the chalice and smiting his breast for his sins. The fuming censers that the grave boys, in their lace and scarlet, tossed into the air like great gilt flowers had their subtle fascination for him.
Ten years separated the scandal-ridden author, when he wrote this in 1890, from his own last-minute conversion: On November 28, 1900, Father Cuthbert Dunn in Paris admitted the seriously ill Wilde into the Church before he died on November 30 as a result of an inflammation of the middle ear with penetration into the midbrain.
It is deeply gratifying when, in Catholic worship, especially in the offering of the sacrifice and the adoration of the Eucharistic Lord, that beauty shines forth which – according to Dostoyevsky's famous saying – “saves the world”. But is that always the case? And is a great aesthetic experience enough to justify the most important, all-important choice in life?
Even a hyperaesthete like Oscar Wilde would certainly have answered in the negative at the hour of his conversion, which was carried out without liturgical pomp in the squalor of his sickbed. And those who have grown up in the Church and matured as Christians are also unlikely to cite beauty as the ultimate reason for their Catholicism.
Another answer comes from the moral sphere. It is said, for example, “No other worldview has such a high-minded and coherent ethic; in no other religion or Christian denomination does one resist relativizing trends that undermine and erode morality as in the Catholic Church.
The argument is valid in itself, but not without problems at the present time. In the present hour, when wafts of ambiguity have been cast over the monument of unambiguousness by statements from high places, the moral authority and superiority of institutional Catholicism appears questionable in the eyes of not a few observers.
Furthermore, an analysis of the morally good shows that it is not self-justifying, but rests on a deeper basis. In philosophy, there has been and continues to be extensive debate about whether the sphere of ought, that is, the morally good, is connected to the sphere of being – and thus of truth. Without burdening the reader with the arguments about David Hume's being-should fallacy and George E. Moore's natural fallacy, it should be noted that, for example, St. Thomas Aquinas takes the reference of the good to the truth for granted, which he also substantiates with arguments. The often quoted sentence Agere sequitur esse, “Action follows from being”, expresses the essential, as does the other: Nihil volitum, nisi praecognitum, "Nothing is willed that has not been previously known.”
Josef Pieper, who has written a valuable booklet entitled “Reality and the Good” about the foundations of the “should” in being, summarizes St. Thomas' view as follows:
All ‘should’ is based on ‘being’. Reality is the foundation of the ethical. The good is in accordance with reality. Those who want to know and do good must turn their gaze to the objective world of being. Not to their own 'convictions', not to their 'conscience', not to 'values', not to arbitrarily set 'ideals' and 'role models'. They must look away from their own act and look at reality."[1]
What is important in our context: anyone who states that the ethical height, the moral claim, in short: the goodness of the Catholic religion is the reason for their decision in favor of it, has not yet stated the ultimate reason. Goodness presupposes truth. A worldview can only be truly good if it is really real, that is, if it corresponds to reality, and that means: if it is true.
Therefore, the answer of our serious Catholic to the question of why he has adopted this faith and no other is: “I am Catholic because I am convinced of the truth of the Christian religion.”
“Truth of the Christian religion” means nothing other than: This religion is objectively true. Its contents are facts even if no human being recognizes them. The events, teachings and institutions faithfully accepted in Catholic Christianity really go back to the one and only God and have validity before him.
It is obvious that this view corresponds to the biblical testimony. When the disciples on the road to Emmaus had hurried back to Jerusalem to the eleven apostles after their encounter with the risen Jesus to tell them about their experience, they learned there that the Lord had truly risen and had appeared to Simon (Luke 24:34). The true – in the original Greek text ὄντως, “genuine”, “real” – is emphasized. In the 15th chapter of 1 Corinthians, Paul also insists on the reality of the resurrection, without which faith is in vain. Inspired by this, in the Easter season, believers of Greek tongue greet each other with “Christòs anésti – alithõs anésti”, and Russians with “Christos voskres – voistinu voskres”: “Christ is risen – He is truly risen.” The Christian faith is thus based on the truth and veracity of this event, and, as logic demands, everything that the resurrection implies as a prerequisite and what it subsequently explains is also established. Prerequisites are truths such as the Trinity of God, the incarnation of the eternal Son in the virginal womb of Mary through a conception brought about by the Holy Spirit, and his voluntary surrender of life for us on the cross. In the wake of the resurrection, we recognize the mission of the Holy Spirit, the birth of the visible Church with its sacraments and the offices authorized to represent Christ, with its perpetual sacrifice, the lasting presence of the Lord in the Eucharist, with its authority to forgive sins, its inerrancy and indestructibility. And our prospect of future bliss in the presence of God is linked to the resurrection of Jesus.
All this and much more is, so the Catholic Christian is convinced, true and real. Because he accepts it as true and real by faith, he is a Catholic Christian. It is not goodness or beauty that forms the keynote of the Catholic triad, but truth. It carries goodness as well as beauty, allows it to be truly good and truly beautiful.
St Thomas teaching students
4. What is truth?
In view of this emphasis on truth, the question raised by Pontius Pilate at the trial of Jesus may now arise. The Lord had given the following self-testimony: “Yes, I am a king. For this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice.” (John 18:37) The governor reacted to this in a manner that, according to Carl Schmitt's apt description, was not a genuine search for truth, but rather a tired skepticism and agnosticism or the superior tolerance displayed by the ideologically neutral statesman.[2] However, this should not prevent us from asking the Pilate question with a genuine desire for knowledge: What is truth?
In a formulation that has become classic, St. Thomas Aquinas explains truth as an adaequatio intellectus et rei, as an “approximation of the intellect and a thing (or a set of facts)” (S.Th. I 21,2). If I think about something, let it be x, and if it is actually true that it is x, then my judgment is true. My thought is measured here against reality. If the two coincide, then there is truth.
What is important here is that the opposite is also true. It is not only the state of affairs that can be the measure of knowledge, but also knowledge that can be the measure of the state of affairs. Instead of speaking of a logical truth, we speak of an ontological truth, namely the truth that does not lie in the post-cognitive thought, but rather in the thing itself.
This sounds very philosophical and abstract and should therefore be illustrated. An artist has a certain image in his imagination, it captures him, awakens his creative urge and his creative powers. He wants to place what he has seen as a work of art in the objective world of the visible, so he reaches for his paintbrush and begins his painting.
This will now be “true” insofar as it corresponds to the artistic idea, but it will be “untrue” insofar as it either falls short of it due to a lack of skill or is overgrown in its authentic form by additions, perhaps details that are intended only to show off mere skill. If, for example, Caspar David Friedrich, whose 250th birthday we are celebrating this year, had added beach huts and ships to his Monk by the Sea (Mönch am Meer), even if they were perfectly depicted, it would certainly no longer have been about the original inner vision. The painting would have become “untrue”.
In a higher sense, this ontological truth applies to the relationship of all created beings to their Creator. Whatever is created has truth in so far as it corresponds to the original, archetypal divine idea. The truth of a tree, for example, lies in the fact that it is as God conceived it. The same applies to man, albeit with the difference that he is endowed with truth not only in the sense of an objective gift, but that it was also given to him as an objective task in life. We are to become what we already always are in the creative thoughts of God; in the words of Friedrich Rückert: “Before each stands an image of what he should become: / As long as he is not that, his peace is not complete.”[3]
It should be mentioned in passing that this view is diametrically opposed to the existentialism of a Jean-Paul Sartre and his descendants, according to which man has neither a predetermined nature nor a divine mission, but must rather design himself and realize this design himself. Between such a view and the Christian view there is an unbridgeable gulf, which remains even if some moral theologians of our time try to combine the two.
At this point, if we briefly apply the ontological truth to the exalted object of the sacred liturgy, we can say that it is “true” insofar as it corresponds to the divine original model, as it appears in revelation and in the proclamation of the Church. A rite of the Mass in which the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and his Eucharistic presence are validly expressed and which leads the faithful to genuine worship of God and fruitful participation in the mysteries, is undoubtedly in accordance with God's thoughts. Therefore it is “true”. And so it is a sure guide for us into the truth of the mysterium fidei. Truth is therefore a relation; a relationship between thought and reality. From here, we have a glimpse into the very foundations of truth. Where else should they lie but in God Himself? However, it seems important to me to correct the frequently heard statement that God Himself is the truth, the “absolute truth”.
St. Thomas Aquinas also argues in this direction when he writes in his commentary on John: “All truth that our intellect can grasp is finite, and therefore there must be a truth that transcends every intellect, that is incomprehensible and infinite, and that is God”(Commentary on the Gospel of John, Prologue, 6).
On closer inspection, however, one is more likely to agree with St. Augustine when he distinguishes: “Truthful” (verax) is the Father, “the truth” (veritas), however, is the Son (Commentary on the Gospel of John V 1). While Scripture does not simply identify God with the truth, Jesus calls himself “way, truth and life” (Jn 14:6). This saying certainly requires a more extensive theological discussion, but this much is certain: the eternal Logos, from whom the Father was born before time and of one being with him, is from eternity "the radiance of his glory andthe express image of his being“ (Hebrews 1:3) and as the incarnate Son, ”the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15); whoever sees him sees the Father (14:9). Since the Second Divine Person is the perfect image of the First, having emerged from the latter's self-awareness, it is more appropriate to ascribe truth or “being the truth” not simply to God, but more precisely to the Son.
In any case, truth consists in agreement and has its ultimate reason in God. In the briefest formula, one can say: the divine truth is the Son, the Christian truth is Christ. Jesus could have answered the governor's question, “What is truth?” quite succinctly: “I am.” On the foundation of this truth, everything rests. It is both the supporting basis and the all-encompassing whole; the principle that gives meaning and purpose to everything, without which everything, including the good and the beautiful, would fall into meaninglessness and aimlessness.
To understand the relationship between truth, goodness and beauty, let us take a brief look at the divine archetype. Saint Thomas Aquinas explains that the two inner-divine processes, the begetting of the Son and the breathing of the Holy Spirit, correspond to the knowing and the willing in God. There can be no process of love without a focus on the process of the Word, because the will only focuses in love on that which has been previously recognized. Although there is no before or after in God's eternity, the logical order of the generation of the Son must be attributed a priority (S.Th. I 27,3 ad 3).
Transferred to the relationship between the cognitively true and the volitionally good, this in turn means the priority of the true. As already stated: Nihil volitum, nisi praecognitum, “Nothing is willed that has not been previously known.” But beauty also presupposes truth. More will be said about this at a later point in order to understand it.
(To be concluded next time.)
NOTES
[1] Josef Pieper, Reality and the Good (Munich, 1949), 11.
[2] Carl Schmitt, Der Leviathan in der Staatslehre des Thomas Hobbes (Cologne, 1982), 67.
[3] Friedrich Rückert, Werke, vol. 2 (Leipzig/Vienna, 1897), 44.
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