The Station of the First Friday of Lent

Many of the stories that form the corpus of Lenten Scriptural readings in the traditional Roman Rite are frequently depicted in frescoes in the catacombs, and on early Christian sarcophagi. We may safely assume that such readings were already part of the Roman Church’s lectionary before the end of the persecutions and the building of the earliest churches. When the tradition of the Roman station churches was formed, some of them were chosen in reference to those readings; an obvious example is the Saturday of the Third Week of Lent, when the Epistle is the story of Susanna, and the station is held at the church of a Roman martyr of the same name. In other cases, such as the octave of Easter, it is clear that the stations were fixed first, and many of the readings were chosen because of them.

There are also days on which it is impossible to determine whether the station church was chosen as an appropriate place for a particular reading, or vice versa, and indeed, it is quite possible that the liturgy was created all of a piece, including both the texts of the Mass and the station, which was considered an intrinsic part of the liturgy. Such a one is the station for today, which is held at the very ancient church of Ss John and Paul on the Caelian Hill.

The facade of the church of Ss John ad Paul, and the dome of the chapel which houses the relics of St Paul of the Cross. Photo by Agnese, from the first post of the 2018 Roman pilgrims Lenten series.

The Saints to whom the church is dedicated are two Roman brothers martyred by the Emperor Julian the Apostate, who reigned from 361-63. The traditional account of their lives states that they had been military officers under Constantine, and later served in the household of his daughter, Constantia, who at her death left them a large fortune with which to take care of the poor. When Julian, the son of Constantine’s half-brother, came to the throne, they refused to attend him at the court because of his apostasy from the Faith. The emperor would have used this as a pretext to seize the money left by Constantia, but granted them ten days to reconsider; the two Saints therefore gave all the money away for its intended purpose. A captain of the imperial bodyguards named Terentian was then sent to their house, bearing a statue of Jove and the Emperor’s promise that they would be greatly honored if they would worship it; otherwise, they would be killed. The words of their response are sung as the second antiphon of Lauds on their feast day: “Paul and John said to Terentian, ‘If Julian is thy lord, have thou peace with him; we have no other than the Lord Jesus Christ.’ ” They were beheaded at once, and buried within their own house on the Caelian hill, directly across from the imperial residence on the Palatine.

The traditional account also states that Jovian, who succeeded Julian as Emperor, immediately converted their house into a church. In reality, this was done about 30 years later by a Roman senator named Byzas and his son Pammachius, and the basilica was at first known as “titulus Pammachii – the title of Pammachius”; this is the name with which the station is indicated in the oldest list of Gospel readings according to the Roman Rite, the Wurzburg Lectionary (ca. 650AD), and earlier than that, as the location of a synod held by Pope Symmachus in 499.

Pammachius was a friend of St Jerome, and several of the letters exchanged between them survive. His wife Paulina was the daughter of another friend of Jerome, St Paula, but when she died in childbirth in 397, after roughly 12 years of marriage, Pammachius became a monk, and devoted his life to study and the works of charity. At the great port city of Rome, known simply as “Portus Romanus”, he and St Fabiola (yet another friend of Jerome) constructed a large hospice for pilgrims and the poor and sick, called a “xenodochium – a place for receiving strangers”, the first such institution founded in the West. (The site of it has been identified and excavated in modern times) In a letter praising his friend and this initiative, St Jerome states that in its founding, all the poor, needy and helpless have now become the heirs of Pammachius and his deceased wife Paulina. “Other husbands scatter on the graves of their wives violets, roses, lilies, and purple flowers, and assuage the grief of their hearts by fulfilling this tender duty. Our dear Pammachius also waters the holy ashes and the revered bones of Paulina, but it is with the balm of almsgiving.” (Letter 66, cap. 5; PL XXII, col. 642). Pammachius died during the Gothic sack of Rome in 410, and is honored by the Church as a Saint.

A detail of a painting of St Pammachius, from the church of Ss John and Paul. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Alekjds, a.k.a. our friend Fr Alek Shrenk; CC BY-SA 4.0.)

Roughly a third of a mile to the east of Ss John and Paul, there now stands a large modern hospital complex known as San Giovanni Addolorata. Underneath it are the remains of a very large Roman house of the early imperial era, which belonged to the one of the city’s oldest families, the Valerii. In the early 5th century, a daughter of this family, St Melania the Younger, another friend of Jerome, inherited it as part of her father’s enormous fortune. In the year 406, she and her husband Pinianus decided to sell the bulk of their property and devote themselves to the poor, but in fact, the house was so large and luxurious that they were unable to find a buyer until after the sack of 410, when the building was severely damaged, and its value thus greatly reduced. By the year 575, when most of Rome had been reduced to a pitiable state, another xenodochium was founded within the ruins of the house, and named for the Valerii.

There can be no doubt that the traditional Epistle of today’s station, Isaiah 58, 1-9, particularly the last part of it, refers to the Christian charity which Saints like John and Paul, Pammachius and Melania exercised on behalf of the poor on or near the site of the church. “Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the needy and the homeless into thy house: when thou shalt see one naked, cover him, and despise not thy own flesh. Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy health shall speedily arise, and thy justice shall go before thy face, and the glory of the Lord shall gather thee up.” (vss. 7-8)

The Gradual of the Mass is taken from Psalm 26; as with so many chants of the Roman Rite, the text is taken from one of the Old Latin versions of the Bible which predate the Vulgate. “One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord. V. That I may see the delight of the Lord, and may be protected by his temple.” This is certainly a reference to the unique fact that Ss John and Paul were buried not in a catacomb, or at any rate, outside the city, as Roman law prescribed, but within their own house.

The Gospel, St Matthew 5, 43 – 6, 4, is part of the Sermon on the Mount, in which the Lord speaks of the spirit in which the works of charity are to be done, not only to our friends and neighbors, but also to our enemies. “Love your enemies: do good to them that hate you: and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you.” (vs. 43) This may perhaps be taken as a reference to Julian, the last pagan Emperor, and a persecutor of the Church, by whom John and Paul were martyred. The basilica also sits next to a large temple dedicated to the divinized Emperor Claudius, who did not persecute the Church, but did expel the Jews from Rome, with many of the first Christians among them, as recounted in Acts 18, 2 and Suetonius’ Life of Claudius (cap. 25). More importantly, the Christians’ refusal to participate in the worship of the divinized Emperors was one of the principal reasons why they were persecuted by the Romans.

The white blocks of marble seen in the lower middle of this photo (also by Agnese, from the first post of the 2015 series), supporting the church’s bell-tower, are just a small part of the surviving section of the podium of the temple dedicated to the divinized Emperor Claudius. Much more of it can be seen when one goes through the door to the left, under the house of the Passionist Fathers, who were given charge of the church by Pope Clement XIV (1769-74).

Likewise, the words of verse 47, “And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more? do not also the heathens this?” may also be understood in reference to Julian, who reverted to heathenism, and like so many pagans before and after him, thought to inspire men to do good solely by philosophy, while living without the grace of Christ. As part of his scheme to revive the largely moribund worship of the Greco-Roman gods, he hoped to institute a program of charitable endeavors to be run by pagan priests (which they greeted with apathy), in emulation of those of the Christians. In one of his letters, he famously complained that “… it is disgraceful when no Jew is a beggar, and the impious Galileans support our poor in addition to their own; everyone is able to see that our co-religionists are in want of aid from us.”

The Wurzburg Lectionary is not a lectionary in the proper sense of the term, in that it does not contain the actual readings, but merely lists them by their first and last words, together with their liturgical date, and the Roman station church whenever one is assigned. During the actual Mass, the reading was done out of a Bible, and many ancient Bibles have markings or marginal notes that indicate liturgical readings. The Gospel for today is therefore noted in the Wurzburg Lectionary as follows:

On Friday, at (the title) of Pammachius. A reading of the Holy Gospel according to Matthew. Canon 40. Jesus said to the disciples, “Ye have heard that it hath been said” (vs. 43) up to “and thy Father who seeth in secret will repay thee.” [Fer(ia) vi, in Pammachi, lec(tio) s(a)n(cti) ev(angelii) sec(undum) Mat(thaeum). k(anon) xl. D(i)x(it) Ihs discipulis suis audistis quia dictum ÷ usq(ue) Pater tuus qui videt in abscondito reddet tibi. – “Canon” refers to an ancient chapter system for the Gospels known as the Eusebian canons.]

Verse 4 and verse 6 of Matthew 6 both end with the words “and Thy Father etc.”, and per se, it is impossible to tell whether the Gospel was meant to end at the one or the other. (The numbered chapters and verses of the Bible are a much later invention.) In fact, already in the 9th century, there are lectionaries that end the reading at verse 4, and others that end it at verse 6. However, the antiphon at the Magnificat for Vespers is taken from verse 6, and is attested in almost all of the ancient antiphonaries, a fact which argues for the longer version of the reading. “Tu autem cum oraveris, intra in cubiculum tuum, et clauso ostio, ora Patrem tuum. – But thou when thou shalt pray, enter into thy chamber, and having shut the door, pray to thy Father.”

Folio 25v of a late eighth-century lectionary produced in northern Italy (perhaps in Verona or Monza), with the Gospel of the Friday after Ash Wednesday in its longer form, Matthew 5, 43 – 6, 6; most of the final verse is on the following page. (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département des Manuscrits, Latin 9451; image cropped)

If the Gospel was originally read in its longer form, including verses 5-6 of Matthew 6, this may also be an oblique reference to Ss John and Paul. The Latin word “cubiculum – chamber” literally means “sleeping place”; the Christians also used it to mean a burial chamber within the catacombs, an expression of the belief that death is really a sleep which will end at the final resurrection. Many of these chambers, though certainly not all, were created for wealthy persons, as evidenced by the beautiful decorations still preserved within them; had Ss John and Paul been buried in a catacomb, they most likely would have been laid in such a space. Instead, they were buried within their own house, which therefore became the “chamber” in which they await “the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.”

A painted cubiculum within the Roman Catacomb of Priscilla.

Happy Feast of Saint Thomas Aquinas

Today is the traditional feastday of St. Thomas Aquinas, Common Doctor of the Catholic Church, Patron of All Catholic Schools. March 7 is the birthday of the Angelic Doctor into eternal life, at the age of 49, en route to the General Council at Lyons. In his honor, it seems fitting to share the story of his death, as told by Bernard Gui in the Vitae Sancti Thomae Aquinatis:

Some days later the holy man had recovered his strength enough to continue the journey to Rome; but, passing near the Cistercian monastery of Fossanova and receiving a warm invitation from the abbot and community to stay there a while until his health should be perfectly restored, Thomas accepted the invitation and turned aside to the abbey. And after saying a prayer before the high altar of the abbey church, as he entered the cloister the hand of the Lord came upon him, and he knew in his spirit that he had now reached the end of his life . . .
          The abbot kindly gave him a room in his own apartments, with all the comforts that could be provided, as was fitting for such a guest; and being now utterly exhausted, he was put to bed and waited on by the monks with all reverence and humility. It was winter and they kept a fire burning in his room, carrying the logs in from the wood on their shoulders. And seeing this, Thomas said, 'Who am I that the servants of God should wait on me like this?' And now with every day that passed his body grew weaker; yet still from his spirit flowed the stream of doctrine. For, being asked by some of the monks to leave them some memorial of his stay with them, he gave a brief exposition of the Canticle of Solomon [the Song of Songs]. And it was indeed appropriate that the great worker in the school of the Church should terminate his teaching on that song of eternal glory; that such a master in that school, when about to pass from the prison of the body to the heavenly wedding-feast, should discourse on the bridal union of the Church with Christ her Spouse.
          Feeling his strength ebbing away, he devoutly asked for the most holy Body of Christ: and when the abbot, accompanied by the monks, brought it to him, he did reverence to it, prostrate on the ground; weak in body, but with his mind, as it were, running strongly to meet the Lord. And being asked, as the Church's discipline requires, whether he believed that this was indeed the body of the Son of God which was born of the Virgin and hung on the cross for our sake and on the third day rose again, Thomas answered with a strong voice and alert devotion and shedding tears:
          "Even were it possible for us wayfarers through life to have some greater knowledge of this truth than sincere faith gives us—faith inexpressibly true—yet now in that faith alone I declare that I truly believe and most certainly know that this is indeed true God and Man, Son of the eternal Father, born of the Virgin Mother, the Lord Jesus Christ. This I sincerely believe and profess."
          Then with tears and devotion he received the life-giving Sacrament. But first, according to report, he said also these words:
          "O price of my redemption and food for my pilgrimage, I receive You! For Your sake I have studied and toiled and kept vigil. I have preached You and taught You. Never consciously have I said a word against You. But if I should have said or written anything amiss on this sacrament or any of the others, I leave it all to the judgment of the holy Roman Church, in obedience to whom I desire to end my life."
          On the following day he asked for and received the Last Anointing. His mind remained clear through the ceremony and he answered the prayers himself. Then, joining his hands, he peacefully gave back his spirit to its Maker.

St. Thomas Aquinas, pray for us: obtain for us the grace to imitate your humility, devotion, and obedience, and some share of your wisdom, that we may live and die as you lived and died, in faithful communion with Christ and His Holy Church. Amen.

Cardinal Roche Repudiates Traditionis Custodes

Ever since Traditionis Custodes was issued more than 3½ years ago, its defenders have struggled to come up with a rationale for why it was issued at all. This is hardly surprising. The motu proprio Summorum Pontificum, in repudiation of which it was written, was the fruit of decades of careful meditation on the Church’s liturgy problem, on the part of one of the finest minds of our times. And the theological and pastoral problems which Benedict XVI addressed with such wisdom and sensitivity are not one whit less real and serious now than they were when he issued it. That is a fact which is not going to change within our lifetimes.

Traditionis Custodes, on the other hand, was above all else an expression of fear, the fear of revolutionaries who know that their revolution is dying, because it holds no interest for the rising generations. It was always going to be a difficult prospect to defend the spectacle of men in their 70s and 80s angrily berating people in their teens and 20s that they need to get with the times, but it has certainly been given the old college try.

We were told that Pope Benedict’s decision to issue Summorum Pontificum was “above all motivated by the desire to foster the healing of the schism with the movement of Mons. Lefebvre.” We were told this, even though Pope Benedict himself flatly stated that this was “absolutely false.”

We were also told that in a survey whose contents have never been revealed, the bishops of the world had alerted the Pope to the grave threat to the Church’s unity which the adherents of the traditional Roman Rite pose. At the same time, we have also been constantly told ever since then that there are very, very few such adherents; so few, in fact that the bishops needn’t worry too much about the sheep whose smell they are acquiring by wading into their midst and giving them a solid thrashing.

Dangerous counter-revolutionaries threatening the unity of the Faith!

We were told that it was therefore necessary to revoke the faculties granted by Summorum Pontificum, in order to restore to the bishops their rightful role as “guardians of the (Church’s) tradition”, and the authority over the liturgy which they needed to end this dangerous looming schism. The letter accompanying the newer motu proprio cited paragraph 27 of Lumen gentium to that effect four times, and said to the bishops, “It is up to you to proceed in such a way as to return to a unitary form of celebration, and to determine case by case the reality of the groups which celebrate with this Missale Romanum.” At the same time, their authority to make such determinations was drastically curtailed by the motu proprio itself. And when many of the bishops used the authority still left to them to determine that there was no such danger in their dioceses, their authority was further curtailed by the responses to a supposed set of dubia, and further still by the end-run around Canon 87 enshrined in a rescript two years ago.

We were told that the traditional Roman Rite must be consigned to the dustbin of history, because it is incompatible with the fascinating new ecclesiological insights of Vatican II. We were also told that the Synod on Synodality was still figuring out what those insights were, and would be sure to let us know as soon as it found them.

We have been told numerous times that attachment to the traditional Roman Rite, and to tradition in general, results from various psychological problems, murkily grouped under the conjuring term “rigidity”. But of course, expulsion from parishes is not a merciful way to accompany those who suffer from psychological problems. And all this is done in the name of defending the legacy of Vatican II, which rightly warned against this sad incomprehension and dismissal of the young by the old, and did not put an expiration date on the warning.

The blessed martyr Rolando Rivi, wearing a classic symptom of psychological rigidity. 

Enter now His Eminence Arthur Cardinal Roche, prefect of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, even he of the dubia and the rescript. In a fascinating new interview with The Catholic Herald published today, he reveals yet another new explanation of Traditionis Custodes, one which effectively repudiates not just the defenses of it proffered hitherto, but the document itself.

When asked “what advice (he) would give to those who want to remain faithful members of the Church and love the Latin Mass but find themselves restricted in attending,” he makes no mention of the dangerous divisions which supposedly necessitated such drastic action in the first place. Indeed, he tells us that “There is nothing wrong with attending the Mass celebrated with the 1962 missal”, the very point which Pope Benedict himself made in his letter to the bishops of the world accompanying Summorum Pontificum, one of his most famous quotes, because one of his wisest: “What earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too.”

We also learn that in issuing Traditionis Custodes, Pope Francis did not act to end the threat of a dangerous looming schism after all, but only to say that the traditional Roman Rite “is not the norm.” Again, this is the very same point that Pope Benedict himself made by calling the traditional Roman Rite, “the Extraordinary Form.”

Now it has to be admitted some of the other things he says about the traditional Rite and its current status in the Church are rather surprising, but such are the ways of the god of surprises. He tells us, for example, that “For very good reasons, the Church, through conciliar legislation, decided to move away from what had become an overly elaborate form of celebrating the Mass.” Of course, few people have as good cause as he to know that the post-Conciliar Rite is what it is, in its very essence, because it rejected and did not fulfill the liturgical legislation, such as it was, of the most recent ecumenical council.

But then in the very next paragraph, he regales us with one of those charming anecdotes about how badly the Mass used to be celebrated before the reform. Apparently, when he served Mass at school, the priest used to charge him with the responsibility of keeping track of the length of his Mass, and if he reached the Last Gospel within 15 minutes, to tug on his chasuble as a reminder that the Mass was supposed to be 20 minutes long. Clearly, the old Mass cannot have been that elaborate…

His Eminence admits what we all know, that this was “something very different from what people experience in the Extraordinary Form today.” Yes, we all know that those who cultivate the Extraordinary Form today fulfill the liturgical wishes of the most recent ecumenical council far more authentically than… this, for example. (Ash Wednesday Mass celebrated yesterday at the church of the Twelve Apostles in Cologne. Things get particularly interesting at 27:30, but be warned: what you hear will not easily be unheard...)

His Eminence then states that “The numbers devoted to the Traditional Latin Mass are, in reality, quite small, but some of the groups are quite clamorous. They are more noticeable because they make their voices heard.” We may prescind from the uncomfortable question as to why the authorities of the Church then pay them so much attention, while ignoring so many and such graver problems that afflict it. NLM is really not about those problems, so I simply make bold to suggest that His Eminence ask himself WHY those who are devoted to the Traditional Latin Mass make their voices heard in its defense, while those who are devoted to the reformed liturgy… um, don’t.

There are a few other chestnuts in the interview, including the perennial favorite that the new rite has more Scripture. But by far the most interesting statement is this: “What interests me is why people get hot under the collar about others celebrating the Tridentine Mass. I think this has been a mistake.” Here again, it is extremely gratifying and edifying to see His Eminence embrace the wisdom of our beloved Pope Benedict, who wrote to the bishops as follows in the aforementioned letter:

“This document (Summorum Pontificum) was most directly opposed on account of two fears, which I would like to address somewhat more closely in this letter.

In the first place, there is the fear that the document detracts from the authority of the Second Vatican Council, one of whose essential decisions – the liturgical reform – is being called into question.

This fear is unfounded. …

In the second place, the fear was expressed in discussions about the awaited Motu Proprio, that the possibility of a wider use of the 1962 Missal would lead to disarray or even divisions within parish communities. This fear also strikes me as quite unfounded.”

Indeed.

Concilium’s Attack on Confession (Part 4.2): Mortal Sins Before Communion? No Problem!

This is the second part of an article which we published on Tuesday, Mr Phillip Campbell’s investigation into what the writers of the “progressive” theological journal Concilium were saying about reform of the sacrament of Confession in the years which immediately followed the most recent ecumenical council. This installment is a detailed consideration of the particularly perverse work of a theologian named Jean-Marie Tillard. Once again, our thanks to Mr Campbell for sharing his highly interesting and useful work with us.

The End Game: Abolition of the Sacrament of Penance

The end game should be fairly obvious at this point: if any sinner can obtain forgiveness by receiving the Eucharist, there is no need for an individual sacrament of penance. Tillard concludes his argument by questioning the teaching of Trent that Catholics guilty of mortal sin must go to confession before receiving communion:

Why, if what I have said is correct, must one hold that “those whose conscience is weighed down by mortal sin must first go to sacramental confession if they can find a confessor”, before they approach the Eucharistic table? Does this not improperly diminish the value of full participation in the Paschal meal? [20]

In typical sophist fashion, Tillard phrases his proposition rhetorically, but the implication is clear—if the Eucharist is the sacrament of reconciliation, we do not need a separate sacrament to deal with grave sins committed after baptism.

The Prodigal Son Not Doing Anything Particularly Wrong Because He Wasn’t Acting from Deliberate Malice, by the Austrian painter Franz Christoph Janneck (1703-61). Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

But what about the Church’s teaching that only venial sins can be wiped out by the Eucharist, but not mortal? Tillard side steps this by denigrating the very distinction between mortal and venial sin, complaining that “these categories are awkward” [21], and preferring that

in the present-day context, one would distinguish between sins of real malice in which bad will is evident, and sins which are possibly serious in terms of matter but which imply a capitulation of the will (if, indeed, it has occurred at all) apart from the “pressure of meditated and relished malice”. These distinctions, especially the latter, are illuminating: reception of the Eucharist is enough to efface all sins where no real malice is apparent. [22]

If the sinner can be forgiven merely by approaching the Eucharist with good faith, there is no longer any need for a distinct sacrament of penance. Tillard’s conclusion makes this point crystal clear:

In strict theological terms, the presence of this contrition (and the votum guaranteeing it) suffices for the sinner—whatever the gravity of his sin—to be able in truth to eat the body and drink the blood of Jesus, and not unto his own damnation (1 Cor. 11, 27-30)… Provided that the votum exists, even though he has sinned gravely, the Christian can receive the body and blood of the Lord without previous sacramental confession, and can obtain his reconciliation from that body: one might say that God “anticipates” the confession which will make explicit a reality already essentially present in its eucharistic source. [23]

Tillard’s Canards

Where does one begin to dismantle this nonsense? Tillard is quite right that the source of the Church’s reconciliatory power flows from the Eucharist, as the Eucharist is the sacramental representation of Cavalry, the sacrifice of Christ to God the Father which is the source of all grace. Nor is he wrong to say that baptism and confession both derive their efficacy from Christ’s sacrifice, and hence these sacraments have what we might call a “eucharistic orientation” to them. From this, however, he makes several extraordinary leaps that are completely unjustified.

Tillard’s biggest problem is his conflation between sacramental grace ex opere operato and ex opere operantis, that is, the power inherent in the sacrament objectively versus what is able to be appropriated by the particular recipient due to his disposition. While Tillard is quite right to note that the Eucharist contains the grace to forgive all sins, he errs grievously about the conditions under which this can be appropriated by the recipient. The Church acknowledges that this can happen in cases of perfect contrition, but we have seen that Tillard drastically reinterprets perfect contrition to be an almost meaningless gesture. Since every sinner is able to receive full forgiveness of even the gravest sins by simply showing up, Tillard’s theology reduces the concept of ex opere operantis to an almost meaningless placeholder.

His equation of the “well-intentioned” act of the grave sinner coming to Communion with the votum by which a child is brought to the font of baptism is ridiculous. An infant is incapable of expressing mature faith at the font. An adult sinner is fully capable of repenting and going to confession before Communion. Tillard’s comparison completely ignores this fundamental distinction.

His misapplication of Aquinas is damning. Tillard frequently cites from the Summa, Tertia Pars, Q. 79, Art. 3 to argue that persons culpable of mortal sin can normatively have their sins expunged by receiving the Eucharist. But Article 3 asks “Whether forgiveness of mortal sin is an effect of this sacrament?”, to which St. Thomas responds in the negative, rightly citing 1 Corinthians 11. We have already seen how Tillard twists Thomas’ meaning of “not sufficiently contrite,” which is bad enough, but even more astonishing is how he uses Question 79 to argue in favor of the very thing Aquinas is denying in Question 79. His conclusion that coming to the Eucharist in a state of grave sin is the very act by which one is forgiven seems downright satanic—an appellation I do not use lightly!

Tillard’s proposal to do away with classifying sins as mortal and venial in preference for those of “malice” versus those where “no bad will is evident” is far too subjective to be useful. All men desire to be happy, which is plain to “all who use their brains” as St. Augustine says. [23] All men act from a desire to be happy, either rightly or wrongly. Most sins are not due to willing the bad but willing some good in a disordered way. Those who sin do so because, in a perverse way, they think it will make them happy. Even the man who hates his circumstances so much as to kill himself does so because, in a certain sense, he believes he will be “happier” dead than alive. The vast majority of us do not sin through “bad will.” Even sins like adultery often proceed from lofty—albeit drastically misplaced—motives that are in themselves positive. In other words, asking sinners to reflect on whether they have sinned through pure malice would functionally eliminate the concept of grave sin from Catholicism altogether.

Finally, Tillard completely misses a fundamental sacramental principle many Catholic children used to learn in catechism—the distinction between the sacraments of the dead and sacraments of the living. If the Eucharist is the source of all grace, why does God so ordain that we have other sacraments, such as baptism and confession? The Eucharist is a sacrament of the living; that is, it is ordered towards nourishing grace in the lives of Christians who are already alive to God. Baptism and confession are sacraments of the dead; that is, they are ordered towards bringing spiritual life to those who are dead. In III, Q. 79, so frequently cited by Tillard, Aquinas makes the common-sense observation that the signification of the Eucharist (bread and wine) pertains to those who are alive, as only the living can eat and drink. Tillard either does not understand or does not admit that sacramental grace must be dispensed differently depending on whether one is in a state of grace or not.

St Thomas Aquinas Triumphing Over Heretics, 1471, by the Florentine painter Benozzo Gozzoli (1421-97.) Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

Having spent the better part of a year reading these Concilium essays, I am consistently shocked at the disdain which the authors have for basic Catholic truths, as well as the complexity they introduce into theological questions which are fairly cut and dry. In conclusion, let us cleanse our palette of Tillard’s convoluted nonsense with a citation from Aquinas, who in two sentences speaks with greater truth and clarity than anything in Tillard’s tedious essay:

It is written, “He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself”: and a gloss of the same passage makes the following commentary: “He eats and drinks unworthily who is in the state of sin, or who handles (the sacrament) irreverently; and such a one eats and drinks judgment, i.e. damnation, unto himself.” Therefore, he that is in mortal sin, by taking the sacrament heaps sin upon sin, rather than obtains forgiveness of his sin. [25]

NOTES (numbered continuing from previous article):

[20] Tillard, 51

[21] Ibid., 52

[22] Ibid.

[23] Ibid., 54

[24] St. Augustine, City of God, Book X, Chap. 1

[25] STh, III, Q. 79, Art. 3

Ash Wednesday 2025

Dómine, non secundum peccáta nostra, quae fécimus nos: neque secundum iniquitátes nostras retríbuas nobis. V. Dómine, ne memíneris iniquitátum nostrárum antiquárum: cito antícipent nos misericórdiae tuae, quia páuperes facti sumus nimis. Hic genuflectitur V. Adjuva nos, Deus, salutáris noster: et propter gloriam nóminis tui, Dómine, líbera nos: et propitius esto peccátis nostris, propter nomen tuum.

Tract O Lord, not according to the sins which we have committed, nor according to our iniquities do Thou repay us. V. Lord, remember not our former iniquities: let thy mercies speedily come before us, for we are become exceeding poor. All kneel. V. Help us, O God, our Savior: and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and be merciful to our sins for Thy name’s sake.

This beautiful tract is sung every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of Lent until Holy Monday, with the exception of Ember Wednesday. Here is a polyphonic version by the Spanish composer Juan de Anchieta (1462-1523.)

What Might Christ Say to Us in the Confessional?

We enter today into the chief penitential season of the Latin Church’s liturgical year. After the loosening up of the 1960s, it isn’t very penitential anymore, although one might well think that Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are worse than ever because no one has built up a habit of fasting, and so we hit those days like a car without shock absorbers running into mountainous speedbumps. Be that as it may, we are always free in Christ to embrace more mortifications, such as abstaining from all meat, or skipping one of the meals of the day, or cutting back on caffeinated beverages—the possibilities are numerous in the affluent West.

Let us remember that, in the sobering words of Dom Eugene Boylan, “It would seem that there are special graces that will not be given to souls unless someone pays a special price for them in penance and suffering.”

This might be the advice that Our Lord would give us if He were sitting in the confessional and we happened to come in, with our assorted burdens. He would free us from those burdens, but then ask us to take on some other burdens voluntarily, for the sake of His Mystical Body. Not merely to fulfill a penance (which is often easy enough), but to pay that special price that has been put on the rescue of this or that soul, in order to give a lowly believer the dignity of being a little co-redeemer, beneath and with Christ, in union with His Mother at the foot of the Cross.

Bishop Athanasius Schneider, in a book from Emmaus Road that was too little noticed when it appeared—I am referring to Man of God: The Catholic Priest and the Cornerstones of His Life—writes: “Fleeing from or rejecting the cross and the Christian practice of interior and exterior mortification leads to a lukewarm and spiritually sterile life.” He then cites a remarkable passage from Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange’s book The Priest in Union with Christ, published more than seventy years ago:

There are at present in the world many people who wish to suppress all forms of mortification, penance, and reparation; they are anxious to destroy the cross and the spirit of sacrifice as being opposed to the modern spirit of so-called liberty or license and uncontrolled pleasure. Consequently their lives have become completely barren, because no one has ever been known to scale great heights without a spirit of sacrifice. […]
          In view of this widespread sterility in human endeavor many would-be reformers are asserting that what is needed is a new approach to the priestly and religious life, in order to adapt them to the needs of the modern era. So far as the religious life is concerned, they are of the opinion that its austerity ought to be mitigated since it is now out of date: time devoted to prayer should be cut down to leave more time for external activities. They would also adapt the priestly life to the spirit of the times: to them it seems no longer suitable for priests to wear a special dress or the tonsure or any outward sign of their priesthood, or even to recite the breviary—perhaps even celibacy has become outmoded—and so on.
          Such has been the attitude adopted by many Protestants, and it is of interest to remember that Luther in cutting himself off from the Church immediately renounced the three religious vows…. And why has their enthusiasm for the glory of God and the salvation of souls waned? For want of the spirit of sacrifice. The priest has failed to recognize that he must be a victim in union with Christ, and that he cannot save souls except through the same means as Christ himself used. It is only this spirit of sacrifice which can rectify disorder in the soul of a priest or religious, and thus make way for genuine charity bringing in its train peace and joy, which spread themselves to other souls. Take away mortification and you immediately take away joy, because once the affections of man are allowed to settle on things of sense they can no longer be raised to God and the supernatural.
          There is certainly no need to remodel the priestly and religious lives and thus imitate the modernist renovation of dogma. (pp. 67-68)

Bishop Schneider also quotes a most remarkable passage from the little-known spiritual writer Fr. Claude Arvisenet, who imagines what Christ would say to his priest in the confessional. Now that we are entering into a season in which many Catholics will be seeking out the sacrament of penance, this advice may be timely:

My son, if thou upbraidest them harshly in the beginning, or even unnecessarily in the course of their confession, what will happen? The last sheep that is at the very door of the fold will flee away in terror, thinking that he has found a wolf, not a pastor…. Thus will perish through they fault they brother for whom I have died, to whom I have sent thee, whom I have trustfully committed to thy care. Remember, my son, that they penitent brother is a man and not an angel, and that thou art not a minister of vindictive justice, but of justice tempered by mercy….
          Nevertheless, my son, compel them to observe all things that I have commanded thee, to cease acting perversely, and to learn to walk in the way of my commandments. Nor deem it mercy to cast pearls before swine, nor to give the bread of angels to those who delight in husks…. O false peace, which leaves war in the heart; O deceptive mercy, which produces sleep and not a cure, death and not life! O unjust judge, who, for the satisfaction of an evil-desiring man, prostitutes my authority!
          Truly, my son, one who knowingly, or even through culpable lack of knowledge, absolves a sinner who is not contrite nor converted from his evil ways, dares to bestow my peace upon my enemy while he still hates me, hands me over to him to be crucified at his hands. See, my son, how sometimes my house becomes a den of thieves; see how these careless priests fail in their duty. O modern Pilates, who thus through cowardice and culpable weakness hand me over to whosoever would again crucify me! O my son, far be such iniquity from thee, such cruel and sinful kindness. Remember that the power and precept was given to thee not only to loose but also to bind.
          Therefore exercise the greatest care, that in thy ministry mercy and truth may meet each other and justice and peace may kiss. Thus shalt thou be a faithful and prudent dispenser of my mysteries.

This is the something which the whole Church needs to be reminded of, a better counsel than the obsessively one-sided “mercy for all and for everything”, or advice to priests that they should “always” absolve everyone who comes to the confessional, and that in some cases those who are in an adulterous relationship should be allowed to confess without an intention of avoiding future sin by living as brother and sister. One only wonders what Arvisenet, who died in 1831, would have said about such brash assertions of the modern era against the divine law. One wonders what the Lord would say—or, rather, has already said.

For, as Msgr. Ronald Knox reminds us, in a literary memento mori well suited to the start of Lent:

“Hodie eris mecum in Paradiso, this day thou shalt be with me in Paradise”—let us remember that today may be the last of its series. When you go to bed, you will wind up your watch just as usual, your letters will be speeding this way and that, assuring your friends that you are well. And then, in the night, just a click in the mechanism of your body, a moment of horror in your dreams; and tomorrow morning the bell will be tolling for you, and your soul will have met God in judgment.

Concilium’s Attack on Confession (Part 4.1): Mortal Sins Before Communion? No Problem!

On Shrove Tuesday of last year, we began a series which Mr Phillip Campbell, author of the blog Unam Sanctam Catholicam, has very kindly shared with NLM. It is the result of his investigation into what the writers of the “progressive” theological journal Concilium were saying about reform of the sacrament of Confession in the years which immediately followed the most recent ecumenical council. This newest installment, a detailed consideration of the particularly perverse work of a theologian named Jean-Marie Tillard, is fairly lengthy, and will be presented in two parts. Once again, our thanks to Mr Campbell for sharing his highly interesting and useful work with us. 

The year 1971 was a time of heady exhilaration for the liturgical progressives. Their destructive work in the immediate aftermath of Vatican II had borne fruit in the implementation of Paul VI’s Novus Ordo Missae the previous year, and with the successful deconstruction of the ancient liturgy there was the sense that anything was possible. Having razed the bastions of the traditional Mass, the progressives turned their sights towards the sacrament of penance, long a target of liberal antagonism. To this end, Dominican arch-progressive Edward Schillebeeckx published a collection of essays in 1971’s Volume 61 of Concilium, the preeminent organ of liberal theology. I have documented the contents of these essays in previous installments in this series (Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3). Today we will continue this exploration of early 70’s progressivism with a dissection of an essay entitled “The Bread and Cup of Reconciliation” by French Canadian Dominican Jean-Marie Tillard (1927-2000).

Fr Tillard wearing the updated habit of a Dominican Doctor of Theology, on the cover of the French edition of his book titled, “I believe, despite everything.” Ça dit tout...

The Bread and Cup of Reconciliation

Jean-Marie Tillard was a theologian of considerable weight in the post-Conciliar world. He had served as a Canadian peritus at the Second Vatican Council and was a member of the International Theological Commission. He spent much of his life as a professor of dogmatics at the Faculty of Theology at the Dominican University College in Ottawa, but continued to hold numerous prestigious positions on various committees, especially those centered on ecumenism and interreligious dialogue.

His essay “The Bread and Cup of Reconciliation” argues that the requirement to confess all known mortal sins before receiving the Eucharist is theologically incoherent because, ultimately, the Eucharist itself contains all power necessary to remit sin. There is, therefore, no justification for retaining auricular confession of mortal sins in the sacrament of penance as a precondition for reception of Holy Communion. [1] Let us unpack how Tillard arrives at this startling and blasphemous claim.

He begins by noting that Christianity is fundamentally about reconciliation, expanding upon St. Paul’s teaching in 1 Cor. 5, 17-21 (“Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation…all this is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ,” etc.) [2] But what new reality does the reconciliation of man with God introduce? The state of being reconciled with God is the state of communion, koinonia. This communion is total, not only a reconciliation of man with God, but also man with his fellow men, as well as the restoration the integrity of man within himself. Reconciliation and communion are two sides of the same coin. As Tillard says, “reconciliation and koinonia must go together in God’s realistic plan for men.” [3] The source of this act of reconciliation-communion is Jesus’ death on the cross, where our Lord’s body is offered as a propitiation for the sins of men (cf. Rom. 3, 25, 1 John 2, 2, 4, 10).

This singular act of redemption is mediated to us through the Eucharist, which is the sacrament of reconciliation par excellence. In partaking of Christ’s blood shed for the forgiveness of sins, we are made sons and daughters of God by sharing in Christ’s flesh and blood. Tillard explains:

Admittedly, this reconciliation was accomplished once and for all (ephapax) in the event of the death-and-resurrection of Christ, but once again it is applied to the Church hic et nunc, in its sinful situation, by virtue of the sacramental character of the celebration and meal. By one and the same action the Church is freed from its sin and enters into more authentic koinonia. [4]

Setting aside Tillard’s cringe characterization of the Eucharist as “celebration and meal,” we are on solid ground thus far. Now let’s see what sort of implications he will draw from this.

Young People™ gather in Woodstock, New York, in August 1969 for a celebration of the Eucharist in the ritus Tillardensis. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Derek Redmond and Paul Campbell (no relation) CC BY-SA 3.0)

The Real Eucharist is the Friends You Made Along the Way

Tillard proceeds to a discussion of baptism, the sacrament by which Christ’s salvation is mediated to us. If the Eucharist is the sacrament of reconciliation par excellence, how does baptism remit sin? Is this a reconciliation distinct from the Eucharist? Drawing on Aquinas, Tillard argues that the reconciliatory power of the Eucharist is operative through baptism, which is ordered towards the Eucharist. [5] Baptism’s power works in reference to the Eucharist, which is the source of all reconciliatory power in the Church. Tillard says:

Theologians speak of a kind of objective desire (votum), implicit in the very nature of baptism and not only in the believer’s intention to be baptized. Aquinas wrote that without the votum of the Eucharist there would be no salvation for man, since no one could attain grace without this aspiration to full eucharistic reconciliation—a form of desire already objectively implied in the structure of baptism and which must pass into the consciousness of the baptized person when mature. The reconciliatory efficacy of baptism depends essentially on the ordination pf baptism at the Lord’s Supper. [6]

In other words, he who desires baptism implicitly desires the Eucharist, since baptism is ordered to the Eucharist.

This line of reasoning is not incorrect, but Tillard will deduce much more from the connection between these two sacraments than is warranted. Having demonstrated the connection of baptism and Eucharist, he turns to the sacred cow of liturgical progressivism—the “communal” nature of the Eucharist. If baptism derives its reconciliatory power from the Eucharist, and if the Eucharist is essentially communal, it follows that reconciliation must also be communal to have a truly Eucharistic orientation.

The very experience of eating together, in an atmosphere of celebration, is redolent of a meeting in love, a mutual opening-forth, an advance beyond mere intrinsic individual existence, and therefore (in consideration of what men actually are) what counts is less the fact of eating than of eating together while sharing the same existential blessing. [7]

According to Tillard, then, the real Eucharist is the friends you made along the way. This is no exaggeration of his position, for he will extend the centrality of human encounter to the very matter of the sacrament itself. If the human fraternity brought about by the Eucharist is what truly matters, then this fraternity is essential to the signification of the sacrament:

The sign that Jesus made the matter of his sacrament is not the bread and wine in their static existence, or even merely in their power to sustain life. It is the bread and the cup already involved in the symbolic act of human encounter and unity. In this way, the reconciliation bestowed is signified in all its fullness: communion with God is recognized here and now in the communion of human brothers. A sign of human brotherhood encloses the mystery of reconciliation. [8]

The matter of the Eucharist is not bread and wine, but bread and wine shared with the community. With this attitude, one must wonder whether Tillard would even admit the validity of a pre-conciliar private Mass!

All this jargon is a way of suggesting that since the Eucharist is a communal act, and since all reconciliation flows from the Eucharist, should we not consider reconciliation to be communal as well?

A Monumental Bait and Switch

Tillard says that the redemption of mankind on the cross and the reconciliation of man with his brothers are both aspects of the Eucharist, such that they cannot be separated without sophistry. “This is one, indivisible sacramental mystery,” he says. [9] At this point, it should not be difficult for the discerning reader to see where he is taking us. If the Eucharist is the sacrament of forgiveness, then receiving the Eucharist is sufficient to wipe out all sin:

In taking the bread and the cup of expiation, the believer participates in the propitiatory power of the cross. His sins are also wiped out…In the most realistic sense of the term, the Eucharist is the sacrament of forgiveness, because is the sacramental presence and communication of the act which remits sins. [10]

You may wonder, perhaps we are being unfair to Tillard here. After all, the Eucharist remits venial sins to those who receive it properly disposed. [11] Perhaps this is what he means? He goes on to explain:

[T]he eucharistic “sacrifice” does not offer another crucifixion but applies the virtue of the cross. But this application relates to all sins, even the most serious, committed after baptism. [12]

But how can this be? Tillard bristles at the idea of the Eucharist effecting forgiveness in a “mechanical” way. Clearly the disposition of the receiver matters. But what specific dispositions could allow for the Eucharist to remit “all sins, even the most serious”? Pay attention, for we are about to witness some remarkable sleight of hand.

Tillard observes that, in order to benefit from this eucharistic forgiveness, a Christian in serious sin must be perfectly disposed, that is, possessed of “a true heart, an unsullied faith, and unmistakable penitence.” [13] Essentially, he is speaking of the obligation to possess perfect contrition before receiving the Eucharist unconfessed. The Code of Canon Law says:

A person who is conscious of grave sin is not to celebrate Mass or receive the body of the Lord without previous sacramental confession unless there is a grave reason and there is no opportunity to confess; in this case the person is to remember the obligation to make an act of perfect contrition which includes the resolution of confessing as soon as possible. [14]

The “grave reason” mentioned in the Code is typically taken to mean danger of death or something of similar gravitas. [15] Tillard, however, opines that this principle should apply normatively for any sinner approaching the Eucharist in general. But one of the characteristics of an act of perfect contrition is that it is rare. While persons of great sanctity are capable of perfect contrition due to their intense charity, for the average schlub in the pews, perfect contrition is usually elicited from the “grave reasons” which make it acceptable before God in place of sacramental absolution. While any decent Catholic facing death may certainly have the wherewithal to be perfectly contrite in such a moment, can we presume he could be so contrite absent such circumstances? And do so regularly?

Tillard recognizes how unlikely such routinized perfect contrition would be, and hence we will see him swap out the concept of “unmistakable penitence” for what might call “good enough” penitence.

As far as the sinner is concerned, the essential expression of this love [of God] is contrition. Through the power of the memorial of the propitiatory sacrifice of the Passover, in the fullness of the communal celebration, God grants the seriously guilty though well-intentioned Christian the grace which allows his contrition to develop and thus permits him to actually receive, together with his brothers, the bread and the cup of reconciliation. [16]

What a monumental bait and switch! We have gone from “unmistakable penitence” to “seriously guilty though well-intentioned.” The traditional concept of perfect contrition has been swapped out for good vibes. Notice how Tillard has also inverted cause and effect: it is not perfect contrition (cause) which enables a sinner to approach Communion (effect); rather, the “well-intentioned” sinner approaches the Eucharist (cause) and God gives him the grace of perfect contrition (effect). How can this be? ~ Tillard sees perfect contrition as implicit in imperfect (“well-intentioned”) contrition. Contrition itself is a gift of God, so if a man is contrite at all, it is a sign that God is calling him to reconciliation. By acting on this impulse and approaching Holy Communion, the sinner responds to grace, and God rewards him by maturing his imperfect sorrow into perfect contrition. This happens in and through the celebration of the Eucharist:

[T]hrough contrition, God already invites man into the full reception of His love…Through the power of the memorial, God moulds [sic] the believer who is well disposed even though culpable of grave sin, and who is taking part in the celebration, in order to make him able truly to eat the bread of salvation and truly drink the cup of the covenant… It is possible for the two moments to be attained in the same act of sacramental manducation. As is known, this is Thomist theory: if the insufficiently contrite sinner approaches the Lord’s table in quite good faith and reverently, together with the body and blood of the Passover, he will receive the charity that inspires his contrition and hence opens him to the friendship of God. [17]

Let us step back to appreciate how truly diabolical this assertion is, for Tillard is teaching that the act of approaching the Eucharist “even though culpable of grave sin” is the very act by which grace “opens him to the friendship of God”! This is nothing less than a devilish inversion of 1 Cor. 11:27-32, a passage which, by the way, is not referenced anywhere in Tillard’s seventeen page essay except once to deny its applicability.

So how much contrition is sufficient? Barely any. Tillard goes on to say that even the lack of contrition suffices so long as the recipient intends to be contrite at some future point. Here he draws a parallel between the votum mentioned above with relation to baptism and the implicit desire for union with God in reception of the Eucharist:

If, at the moment when he approaches the bread and the cup of reconciliation, the sinner has not already taken this step [i.e., mustering up an attitude of contrition] before presenting himself at the banquet of friendship (which, in a sacramental perspective in which the laws of grace are one with the rhythms of human psychology, is the usual attitude), he must then at least have the firm desire (votum) and sincere resolution to take it eventually. There can be no true reconciliation without at least this votum, which is the manifest expression and guarantee of the existence of authentic contrition… [18]

Just like a child brought to the baptismal font has an implicit votum for God that is entirely undefined because of his physical immaturity, the sinner who comes to the Eucharist has an implicit votum for God despite his impenitence that is expressed merely by showing up and intending—at some point in the future—to be contrite and go to confession.

Before we move on, we must challenge Tillard’s assertion that it is “Thomist theory” that an “insufficiently contrite sinner” can approach the Eucharist “in quite good faith” and receive the graces of the sacrament. Tillard cites Aquinas’ respondeo in Summa III, Q. 79, Art. 3 for this assertion. Aquinas is here replying to the assertion that the forgiveness of mortal sins is one of the effects of the sacrament. After reaffirming the general teaching that those in mortal sin cannot benefit from the grace of the Eucharist, Aquinas notes two exceptions:

Nevertheless this sacrament can effect the forgiveness of sin in two ways. First of all, by being received, not actually, but in desire; as when a man is first justified from sin. Secondly, when received by one in mortal sin of which he is not conscious, and for which he has no attachment; since possibly he was not sufficiently contrite at first, but by approaching this sacrament devoutly and reverently he obtains the grace of charity, which will perfect his contrition and bring forgiveness of sin. [19]

St. Thomas does indeed say that one who is “not sufficiently contrite” can receive the grace of charity in the Eucharist but notice that Thomas defines “not sufficiently contrite” with one who is “in mortal sin of which he is not conscious.” This is clearly not what Tillard means by “insufficiently contrite.” Tillard is speaking of Catholics who know they are in grave sin, are “insufficiently contrite” and “culpable” but “well-intentioned,” and who choose to receive Holy Communion anyway. Tillard does violence to Aquinas by wrenching his comment out of context and using it to justify something St. Thomas would never have countenanced.

NOTES:

[1] Jean-Marie Tillard, “The Bread and Cup of Reconciliation,” Concilium: Sacramental Reconciliation, Vol. 61, ed. Edward Schillebeeckx (New York: Herder & Herder, 1971).

[2] 1 Cor. 5, 17-27, RSVCE

[3] Tillard, 39

[4] Ibid., 40

[5] STh III, Q. 80, Art. 2, 6

[6] Tillard., 43

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid., 44

[9] Ibid., 45

[10] Ibid., 46-47

[11] “As bodily nourishment restores lost strength, so the Eucharist strengthens our charity, which tends to be weakened in daily life; and this living charity wipes away venial sins.” (CCC 1394)

[12] Tillard, 47. The author tries to lend credibility to this theory by noting it was discussed at Trent, but grudgingly admits it was not the majority opinion. He also cites Aquinas on this point (STh III, Q. 79, Art. 3), but this is a non sequitur. Aquinas affirms that the Eucharist in itself contains the power to remit all sin, but it does not therefore follow that this grace will be efficaciously applied to all or even most who approach the sacrament. Aquinas is speaking of what the Eucharist is capable of effecting in se, not what the individual Christian experiences in concreto.

[13] Ibid., 48. Italics in original.

[14] CIC 916

[15] See New Commentary on the Code of Canon Law, 1111. 

[16] Tillard., 48-49

[17] Ibid., 49

[18] Ibid., 53

[19] STh, III, Q. 79, Art. 3

David Clayton to Speak in Tyler, Texas, Tuesday, March 11th

The Way of Beauty - Spirituality for Creatives and Creativity for All

March 11th, 6pm at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, 423 S Broadway, Tyler, Texas 

Reception to follow across the street at the Stabat Mater Atelier

Next Tuesday evening, I will give a talk at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Tyler, Texas,on The Way of Beauty - Spirituality for Creatives and Creativity for All.

When an artisan (artist) practices his art well, he is practising virtue, participating in God’s ongoing creative work, and contributing to a beautiful contemporary culture. That culture, mundane or sacred, is Christian to the degree that it bears the mark of divine beauty.

The traditional formation that might have been given to the great Catholic artists in the past did far more than teach them the skills of their craft. It was Catholic inculturation, and a formation that gave them a deep understanding of the tradition in which they worked. It was designed to develop an appreciation for and a deep understanding of the principles that underlie the beauty of the cosmos, and to impart the Christian practices and habits that incline the artist to follow inspiration and order the imagination. 

This talk will describe the core principles of such a formation, and discuss how they can be applied today to art education at any level and, more broadly, to any human activity, so that all of us can contribute gracefully and beautifully to the evangelization of contemporary culture. 

In his short presentation about the New Evangelization, Pope Benedict XVI wrote that we must cultivate the art of joyful living to draw people to the faith. The Way of Beauty is a formation that enables us to do just that: when we make beautiful choices, we follow the guiding light of divine beauty which is a source of joy, and draw others onto the same path.

The Great Canon of St Andrew of Crete

In the Byzantine Rite, today is the first day of Great Lent, traditionally known as Clean Monday. As I have described before in various articles, it is the long-standing custom of the rite that the Divine Liturgy is not celebrated on the weekdays of Lent, except on the feast of the Annunciation. In compensation, the Divine Office is lengthened in various ways: the Psalter is read twice within the week, rather than once as normal, and on the weekdays, Compline is celebrated in the much longer form known as Great Compline. (Described in three articles: part 1, part 2, part 3.)

An icon of St Andrew of Crete (650 ca. - 740).

One of the most complex features of the Byzantine Office is known as the Canon, which I have described in detail elsewhere. (The name has nothing to do with the Canon of the Roman Mass.) Proportionally, canons are by far the largest part of the material in the Byzantine liturgical books. They are appointed to be said at both Orthros, the longest service of the day, which is much like the Roman Matins and Lauds, and at Compline, whether it be said according to the longer or the shorter form. But because of their length, they are very often abbreviated at Orthros, and omitted completely at Compline.

On the first four days of Great Lent, the canon of Compline is one of the most famous examples of the genre, composed by the man who invented it, St Andrew of Crete, and traditionally known simply as “The Great Canon.” It is an astonishingly long piece of work, even for a Canon; in my Greek hand-missal sized “synekdemos”, an anthology of the most commonly used liturgical texts, it runs to 26 pages of eye-wateringly small type. For these days, therefore, only one quarter is said per day, but the whole thing is appointed to be said at Orthros of the Fifth Thursday of Lent as well. (In practice, it is often very much abbreviated outside of the more liturgically energetic monasteries.)

The second hymn will suffice here to indicate its penitential theme.

“Whence shall I begin to mourn for the deeds of my miserable life? What sort of beginning shall I make, o Christ, with the lament I now sing? But as One that hath compassion, give me remission of my transgressions.”

The text is replete with Biblical typologies, of which, again, a single example must suffice here.

“In Adam the first-created, I recognized myself, having imitated (him) in transgression, despoiled of God, and of the everlasting kingdom and of delight through my sins.”

An ivory box carved with a scene of the Expulsion from the Garden, made in Constantinople in the 11th century, now in the Cleveland Museum of Art. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The following record was made earlier today at the seminary of the Holy Spirit of the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church in L’viv. The Slavs have retained the original custom by which the Great Canon is said at the beginning of Compline after the opening prayer and a single Psalm, in this recording it lasts until about 40:15. The text can be read in English at this link, from pages 196 to 212 of the pdf: https://www.ponomar.net/data/lenten_triodion.pdf.

At 48:35 there starts one of the loveliest chants of Great Compline, “God is with us”, the text of which I give in full in part one of my article about it.

A Vindication of St Pius X on Sacred Music and Perspectives on the Church in Africa

Os Justi Press is pleased to announce a pair of new releases.

First, in the “Studies in Catholic Tradition” series, we have Dr. Patrick John Brill’s The Great Sacred Music Reform of Pope St. Pius X: The Genesis, Interpretation, and Implementation of the Motu Proprio “Tra le Sollecitudini”

Professional singer and choir conductor Dr. Andrew Childs sums it up well: “Dr. Patrick Brill provides thorough and much-needed support for what many traditional-minded Catholics have long known or at least suspected: that St. Pius X’s 1903 motu proprio Tra le Sollectitudini still provides the surest guide for the restoration of Catholic sacred music. Part I of this book provides a detailed commentary on the motu proprio, enlightening for amateur and expert alike, while Part II examines the document’s fate from the time of Pius to today, looking at its canonical force and status, positive efforts of implementation, and the neglect it has suffered since Vatican II. As tradition continues to make crucial gains, it will be books like this that serve as practical guides for restoration.”

The new president of the Church Music Association of America, Fr. Robert C. Pasley, concurs:

“Despite the sorry state of music in the Church today, the official documents of the Church still clearly proclaim that Gregorian chant has ‘first place’ (principem locum) in the liturgy. St. Pius X’s motu proprio is the definitive teaching on this subject. Brill’s book is valuable for Church musicians, an immersion in the fundamentals… A fascinating and important read.”

Music director Jonathan Bading, the coordinator of the massive Palestrina500 festival in Grand Rapids, Michigan, adds:

“St. Pius X’s motu proprio on sacred music is the bravest, loftiest, most exhaustive attempt ever to protect and promulgate the precious musical riches of our Roman Rite. Brill’s work particularly shines by placing this great document in its tumultuous historic context and by thoroughly dismissing the naysayers who attempt to water down the urgency of this holy pope’s directives.”

Dr. Edward Schaefer, musicologist and president of the Collegium Sanctorum Angelorum  notes the timeliness of Brill's study:

“Even though they met with certain challenges, these reforms [of Pius X] supported both the twentieth-century revival of chant and a renewed sensitivity to the importance of music in the liturgy…. Patrick Brill’s study comes at an opportune moment, when Catholics are increasingly rejecting the banality of much of today’s ‘church music.’ Brill’s work conveniently gathers into a slim volume the historical context of Pius X’s reforms, the reforms themselves, their implementation, and the place of these reforms in a Church rediscovering tradition. It will be a standard resource.”

Lastly, music professor and author Susan Treacy points to its practicality:

“An indispensable volume for every Catholic—musician or not—who wants to understand the sacred music of the Church.… Provides a detailed exegesis and history of Pius X’s 1903 motu proprio on sacred music Tra le Sollecitudini, as well as the subsequent history of Catholic liturgical music through the aftermath of Vatican II.… Also offers a plan to help pastors and musicians restore sacred music in today’s Catholic parishes, according to the evergreen reforms of St. Pius X.”

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The second new release is in a rather different vein: a collection of essays around the theme of the state of Catholicism on the African continent.
 

The familiar claim that Catholicism is booming in Africa—that it is the one continent where the Second Vatican Council has yielded abundant good fruits—does not square with available data and descriptions, as we discover in the late George Neumayr’s articles on Ivory Coast, a Nigerian Catholic’s analysis of harmful inculturation inflicted on Africans by racially stereotyping European liturgists, Claudio Salvucci’s questioning of the Zaire Use on the basis of Congolese history, and Peter Kwasniewski’s evaluation of the evangelical potency of preconciliar faith, life, and worship. In Africa as elsewhere, traditional Catholicism conquered whole populations and fostered immense cultural creativity. Under the new ecclesiology, new ecumenism, and new liturgy of progressive Western intellectuals, ever-larger numbers are falling away to Protestant sects and deracinating secularism.

What readers are saying:

“Accessible and informative, this agile volume…questions much of the received wisdom about the alleged ‘success’ of the Catholic Church in Africa in the last few decades… Will introduce the reader to an ecclesial reality far more problematic and fractured than the naively optimistic portrayals often found in Catholic publications… An important critique of simplistic accounts of liturgical inculturation.” —Thomas Cattoi, PhD, Angelicum, Rome

“Serves as a welcome corrective foray into a fraudulent historiography…based on eurocentric ideological preoccupations.” —Michael Kakooza, PhD, Eastern Africa

“The entirety of this book, brimming with intelligent observations and illustrated with unknown and appealing historical examples, will trigger conversations that should not be postponed.” —Fr. Federico Highton, PhD, ThD; co-founder of two sub-Saharan parishes

“As a priest celebrating the traditional Latin Mass in East Africa for twenty years, I appreciate your collective work. The Catholic Faith has been damaged by the new spirit of this council in Africa like everywhere else, even if the consequences are not of the same magnitude (yet).” —Rev. Christophe Nouveau, Kampala, Uganda

146 pages, full color, in paperback, hardcover, or ebook.

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Both books are available directly from the publisher:

Brill on Pius X | paperback $14.95 | hardcover $21.95 | ebook $9.95

African Catholicism | paperback $16.95 | hardcover $24.95 | ebook $9.95

Or from any Amazon outlet (see, e.g., here and here).