Ex Fide

November Requiem Times

2011-10-11T11:38:00.003+01:00

THE MONTH OF NOVEMBER

St Mary Abchurch

(Abchurch Yard, EC4N 7BA)

Wednesday, November 2nd

All Souls’Day

Sung Requiem Mass at 12.30 pm

(Setting by Moritz Brosig)

St Magnus the Martyr

(Lower Thames Street, EC3R 6DN)

Wednesday, November 9^th

Solemn Vespers of the Dead at 6.30 pm

Funeral Sentences: Wm Croft

Sunday, November 13^th

Remembrance Sunday

High Mass of Requiem at 11.00 am

(Setting by Robert Fuhrer )

Further details from

Fr Philip Warner SSC on www.stmagnusmartyr.org

or 020 7626 4481

Ss. Thomas the Apostle and Thomas of Canterbury

2011-07-04T16:28:00.007+01:00

On Sunday we kept the feast of the Apostle Thomas. As we are also near to or in the Octave (or perhaps even more tenuously, the orbit) of the Feast of the Translation of the Relics of S. Thomas of Canterbury, we carried our relic of that Saint up to London Bridge, to approximately the site of the chapel of ease dedicated to him that stood on the old London Bridge and lay within the boundaries of the parish of S. Magnus. In the photo above, you can see the procession forming the Churchyard.

The Feretory containing the relic is carried by two Subdeacons

The Procession makes its way up to London Bridge. The Friar whom you can see here is Fr Clark Berge SSF, who is staying in the UK for a conference. The Churchwardens carry their rods of office.

Cardinal Rector, Fr Philip Warner, blesses the former site of the Chapel and sprinkles it with Lustral Water. The antiphons and versicles from one of the offices of the feast were said with the Collect.

Back in the Church, a Churchwarden venerates the relic.

Pentecost Vigil IV - write-up in the Church Times

2011-07-04T09:09:00.002+01:00

Here's a little write up from the Church Times about the first solemn pentecost vigil in the UK in 55 years:

Diary

by Glyn Paflin
© not advert

Violet at Whitsun

I KNEW I would one day need a 1933 English Missal for the Laity when I bought one at Easter 1988 — recording the date in the front, as bookish young men still do, no doubt, if they haven’t fallen for the latest electronic wizardry.

But when at long last, on the eve of Whitsun 2011, no other book that I own would do as well, where was it? Certainly not where it needed to be, in St Magnus the Martyr, London Bridge, as we in the pews looked at the backs of two cantors briskly intoning six lengthy Prophecies — in the Authorised Version, needless to say — while the celebrant read them at the altar.

So, though too much fuss is made about versus populum by Anglicans who call themselves Modern Catholics, I do begin to see why a “common-sense” view of liturgy — if not, indeed, a rather Anglican one — began to make itself felt in the Roman Catholic Church in the 20th century. In the mid-1950s, the Pentecost vigil became a casualty of the new way of thinking, which was about to transform the worship in RC churches.

So this was history in the making; for we could be confident that the Bible-based service revived by St Magnus’s was a great rarity if not, indeed, probably a first for some half a century — and just the thing for this KJV year. The altar sheathed in violet, and the candles unlit; the sacred ministers in their Lenten vestments, prostrating during the singing of the litany, having returned with the paschal candle from the blessing of the font; and the bells ringing during the Gloria of the mass. . .

So, what had it all been about? It was, I was told by the MC, a service from ancient days when there were too many candidates for baptism to be “done” at the Easter vigil. It certainly makes much more of an event of the festival of the descent of the Holy Spirit than we are used to now that both the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite and Common Worship take us back into green on what used to be Whit Monday.

Maybe there is something to be said for an Anglican cathedral-style version of this service for the Eve of Pentecost, if it hasn’t already been done: those readings that I heard were Genesis 22, Exodus 14 and 15, Deuteronomy 31, Isaiah 4, Baruch 3, and Ezekiel 37. But it is possible that the old ritual notes could be followed with a freer hand. . .

I'm very pleased with Mr Paflin's article, which I'm sure has brought the existence of the vigil to the attention of many people, as well as publicising S. Magnus - very good work.

My comments are:

1. I think the common-sense view of liturgy to which he refers is that the prophecies were sung facing the altar. At S. Magnus, the acoustics didn't really support that as an option and perhaps, had we turned around to sing them, no one would have needed to reach for a hand Missal! I don't see why they can't be sung facing the other way, if this means everyone can hear them. I'm sure a cathedral rendering of this service would involve the prophecies being read by laity with the antiphons and collects being sung. My own view is that while this would be a lovely Anglican service, it's not Liturgy, and why bother imitating Carols & Nine Lessons?
2. The Litany of the Saints did not work at our vigil. With only one cantor and the petitions doubled, and not having the full text printed out, it was sort of torturous straining to hear what was being sung. If we are to do the correct thing and keep the full Litany, doubled, we need to go on a walk around the Church in procession or something. I imagine that next year, they will simply not be doubled.
3. I think priests should think very seriously about drafting an Anglican cathedral-style Vigil service based on the traditional rite, without reference to the modern Roman Vigil. Even if they toned it down in terms of length, and followed the rubrics "with a freer hand", I'm certain the result would be more authentic - and baptismal. I can't wait to see the Archbishop of York baptising adults in a paddling pool on the Eve of Whitsunday in the future!

Glorious Mysteries

2011-06-29T15:02:00.004+01:00

Today in the Chapel I was so deeply annoyed and disturbed by people chatting loudly just outside while I was trying to pray in silence. Some woman, who I think was an organist came to the Sacristan standing just outside the door to the Chapel, and asked for the Chaplain:

-"No he's gone to the Ordinariate, he's become a Roman Catholic"
-"Oh really?! I didn't know, and I take the Church Times! I'm Church of Scotland, I'm an elder there, I'm from Glasgow, but I was baptised in the Church of England.....and so I take the Church Times, but I hadn't heard......and I regularly take the Church Times"

And so on and so forth. The very kindest thing I felt like doing was getting up and asking her if, in the Church of Scotland, they ever did actually shut up. I put my thumbs in my ears and tried to get back to concentrating on the Mystery of the Resurrection. Of course, the genius Victorian architects ensured that any words spoken in that place should reverberate and be amplified, and I could still hear her going on and on, just outside the chapel door, totally oblivious to the fact that people might go there expecting silence.

Somewhere in the middle of the Mystery of the Ascension, another woman came to the passageway before the Chapel door and again asked for the Chaplain. I could see half of her through the open door of the Chapel, and she was wearing a black coat and a fur hat, and spoke in a very clipped but slightly breathy Lumleyesque manner. By now I was starting to wonder if this might all be divinely ordered to test me:

-"Hello, I'm looking for the Chaplain"
-"He's not here, he's gone to join the Ordinariate....we should have a priest coming in a bit to say the Mass...."
-"Oh, I can't believe he's gone.....the Chaplain, yes....what's his name, Tom?"
-"Tim, yes Fr Tim"
-"Tom? Tim?......Oh, I hadn't heard about that"
-"Well, we should be getting a chaplain......."

And so again they both went on, right outside the Chapel door, almost shouting at each other. I couldn't believe it! Anyone who opens any space to the public should know that to try to enforce strict silence is to fight an uphill battle. Apart from anything, anyone shouting in the street can be heard inside. But for goodness' sake! Presumably these people have actually been inside a Church before, and know that people often go there expecting silence, and to rob them of even a bit of peace and quiet is incredibly cruel.

So during the Mystery of the Descent of the Holy Ghost, my mind slipped to wondering - If I can't deal with people chatting, what can I deal with? If I can't focus my heart and my mind on God and try to open up to him in prayer just because of someone chatting, how on earth will I be able to deal with greater intrusions? If I can't hear God over that Glaswegian woman, how will I hear Him over the noise of the world? If one thing in someone else that I don't like can stop me from seeing God in them, how will I ever love in a truly Christian way?

Sometimes, according to where we are, who we are, and who we are with, prayer is not about trying to block things out, but about letting them in. Creating a barrier around my sense of hearing in order to block that woman's voice out was ultimately futile, and what was left inside my head? Just stumbling words of the Ave Maria as I willed myself to focus, while my mind tried to focus in more and more on her ever fainter voice.

Sometimes, we just have to let it in. We have to let these disturbances become mingled with, or even part of, our prayer. How can we be open to God if we're trynig to block someone or something else out? Prayer is not about sweeping out of our bodies to some spiritual height, it's about striving to be who we are, where we are, with God. Perfectly being where we are, and offering all to Him. Even if this means being surrounded by noise.

I think the swine herders and villagers in today's Gospel reading at Mass were afraid of this. I don't know what lectionary it came from, but today's reading was of Christ driving demons out of two possessed people into a herd of pigs. After the pigs threw themselves into the lake, the swine herders went back to the village and the villagers wanted Jesus to go. Why did the villagers want Him to leave? He had disturbed the order of their lives. Before He came, the men possessed by Demons were safely in their tombs - excluded from society by the fear they provoked. When Jesus restored them to sanity, the Demons entered the pigs and so the villagers lost their herd. Presumably they didn't think it was a worthy exchange - two sane men for a herd of pigs. They were attached to their herd and they weren't interested in the demon-possessed men and their deliverance by Christ. The whole town went to plead with Jesus to leave, because they were worried what else he might take from them, and what else he might give them. How often are we like the villagers? You never know what you will let in when you open up, and you never know who you might be shutting out when you lock yourself in.

Persecuting the Laity....

2011-06-29T11:09:00.003+01:00

A post on a new blog I've just discovered, a Minor Friar, got me thinking about how much the poor laity get bullied on these traddie websites and forums. He was talking about how Trads often whinge that in the New Rite Eucharistic prayer, we thank God for "counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you", when the laity should really be kneeling. He made the point that on this occasion, trad critics had chosen to ignore the possibility of a non-literal interpretation of the verb "stand" to make the point that either the laity don't kneel anymore as they should during the Eucharistic prayer, or that the modern rite is inadequate for congregations who do kneel.

How exhausting. It reminds me of the obsession with Communion in the hand. That debate can get so heated, I normally start wondering if Traditionalists shouldn't chew off their own hands just to make their point and then get on with it. When serving as Subdeacon I get to see exactly who receives Communion and how, and as for those who receive in the hand, I would not doubt their piety, their devotion to the Sacrament, or any other motive.

I personally receive on the tongue, because I feel more comfortable that way, especially in terms of respect for the Sacrament. I also kneel, partly out of reverence and partly because most people who administer the Eucharist are shorter than me, and so it's just more practical. I'm sure those hands that regularly receive the Host from the Priest carry less bacteria than my tongue on a Sunday morning, or indeed the tongues of some of those nutters on the forums. We could all of us be boiled in bleach and yet we still wouldn't be clean enough, in any sense of the word, to receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ. That's the point.

Maybe it's the yoga talking, but I sort of see the posture of the laity during the Liturgy as not something we should worry about too much. It's all OK as long as they have the right attitude to what is happening. Whether the laity sit or stand or bow at a certain point doesn't matter nearly as much as what the ministers in the Sanctuary are doing on their behalf. Servers and clergy should pay the utmost attention to how they behave during the Liturgy, knowing that the laity expect it of them. It's not about "Oooh, Fr so-and-so says a lovely Mass", it's about the ministers fulfilling an office, without personal flourishes or adornments or personalised extras. They should be self-effacing and decorous at all times. And it's OK to bully them about that because they should be used to it! It's their job!

In the typical Roman parish, or indeed Roman Rite Anglican parish, some people will stand during the Eucharistic prayer, some will kneel. Some receive on the hand, some on the tongue, some kneeling, some standing. I really cannot understand how that image makes some people's blood boil so much! Leave the laity alone! If you want to make a point about the defects of the Modern Rite, make it a principle not to discount the good intentions of the devoted people who have turned up for Mass in the first place.

The Sorrowful Mysteries

2011-06-28T13:56:00.009+01:00

For a long time I was put off the Rosary. I used to find it too long to say a full five-decades, and sometimes I would close my eyes and actually fall asleep during the first one. I was also put off by the sugary pamphlet literature that has grown up around this devotion, all of the different "methods" or ways of praying the Rosary which would help the devoted Christian to say a Rosary without distraction or wandering thoughts, and to derive enormous benefits from its recitation. One phrase sticks in my mind, I think from the book Secret of the Rosary, where we are directed to "make each Ave maria that falls from our lips a little Rose, which we offer at Our Lady's feet, and to weave them into a crown of 53 little flowers with which to crown Her Queen of Our Hearts "....or something similar, I'm paraphrasing, but the language always struck me as camp and unnecessary.

The claims about what could be achieved by the recitation of the Rosary also seemed desperately overstated. After reading some of these pious publications you could believe that a Rosary can do anything, and I did wonder if perhaps these Rosary novena groups were dropping the odd Pater Noster if their devotional efforts hadn't yet delivered world peace.

One of the most detrimental aspects of counter reformation Christianity, in some ways still perpetuated by nominally "Traditional" groups, has been to push personal spirituality into the centre of the Church's public life and to do so at the expense of authentic Liturgy, displacing the traditional understanding of Liturgy as corporate worship, and replacing it with a highly personal and individual experience of the Sacred Liturgy. The typical Traditionalist menu of Rosary, Votive Low Mass, Stations of the Cross, and Devotions to the Sacred Heart is built around the promotion of certain devotions, visions, prayers and indulgences by Popes of the last few hundred years and the promotion of private devotion over public worship. Even the Low Mass, the one bit of Liturgy on the menu, has been turned into a devotion. The faithful got used to saying the Rosary throughout the whole of Mass, or working through a series of meditations while the Priest stood at the altar, stopping only to adore the Host at the elevation. The Liturgical Movement replaced the Rosary beads with Layman's Missals, providing the laity with a vernacular translation of the Mass, in many cases, and instructing them on what was happening, but even this did not satisfy the need of the individual layperson to be doing something during the Liturgy, and we all know where that has taken us....

My understanding is that private prayer and public worship are two sides of the same coin, and we really can't have one without the other. We receive this understanding from scripture: although the Disciples are often to be found gathered together in prayer at key moments in the Gospel, and although prayer in the temple and the gatherings of the synagogue are by no means despised by Christ, we are also told:

But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Matthew 6:6

Public worship and private prayer - they should balance each other out. Of course we can have an interior, private response to public worship, and I see no harm in groups of people gathering to practice certain devotions, especially the Rosary, but we have to be able to distinguish between them. Both East and West have devotions which are in some way supplementary to or modeled on Liturgy. Both have Hours of Our Lady to be said in addition to the original hours, the Eastern Church has paraliturgical akathists. But there is no question of replacing the Liturgy with them.

This is all a massive digression from what I originally wanted to say. So I'm back into the Rosary. I've decided that it's all about doing as much as you can, as much as you want to, and realising there can be too much of a good thing - if I find myself with half an hour to spare in the evening and I've already prayed the mysteries assigned to that day, much better to reach for my Office Book instead. Developing a private prayer life is all about building on manageable things, maintaining variety, and not getting hysterical over the Rosary.

Today I prayed the Sorrowful mysteries and effectively came up with my own little "method" without really wanting to. My biggest problem in praying the Rosary is wandering thoughts and not knowing how to meditate on a mystery beyond maintaining a static mental image of that mystery in my mind. To people who have this same problem I'd say: don't worry about it, just chuck your pamphlets away and go and find out how to pray the Rosary in a way that works for you....you're allowed to, it's private prayer! I found myself trying to unravel each of the sorrowful mysteries by drawing on moments from my own little via crucis in life, recalling moments of humiliation, suffering, sadness or anxiety that I could relate to each mystery, offering that experience to Christ and uniting it to the Blessed Passion. So for example, for the Crowning with Thorns I recalled a moment in which I felt utterly humiliated after an argument in public, during the Agony in the Garden I recalled a moment of absolute fear, anxiety and terror about what comes next. Not that we can ever truly understand or imagine the thoughts and emotions of Christ during those moments, but we can gain a small insight into the power of the Passion, and remind ourselves that It is real. By the last mystery I had rehearsed so much that I was left quite deeply moved, having perceived, in the boundless depth of these Sorrowful Mysteries the shallowness of so much in my own life. But this is where the Glory of the next set of Mysteries comes into play: we who believe in Christ know that all things are restored in Him. Although we make of ourselves an unworthy offering, in the prayers of the Rosary said under the breath, or at the great Amen sung aloud at the Liturgy, God takes what we offer and makes it worthy. The great joy of being a Christian is that, at the moment when it hits us just how unworthy and undeserving we are of mere association with Him, He reaches out a hand of friendship and invites us into His very Heart. In the Eucharist we offer our unworthy present, and receive the Perfect Gift: Him in us, and we in Him. This is what it means to be alive in Christ, and every glimpse of this brings the Christian soul greater joy, to sustain us on this earthly pilgrimage.

Go to Mass, pray the Office, and if you still have the time and inclination to do so, pray the Rosary!

Pentecost Vigil III - Photos!

2011-06-13T12:27:00.005+01:00

Dear readers, it's time to share with you the primary commodity of this, my humble blog....photos from S. Magnus! For a full description of the ceremonies of this ancient vigil service, see the post below. Many thanks to everyone who everyone who served and attended the Vigil. Next year we can expect it to be celebrated earlier in the day and with greater pomp. In the picture above you can see the Celebrant reading the first Prophecy which is being chanted by a Reader at an ambo.

The altar party process to the font, led by the Paschal Candle

The Celebrant blesses the Baptismal waters, dipping the candle thrice.

After the blessing of the font, the Litanies are sung in procession back to the sanctuary, where the ministers remove their violet vestments and prostrate themselves before the altar.

Towards the end of the Litany, the ministers go to the Sacristy and vest in Red for the Mass. The violet frontal is removed from the altar to reveal the red frontal, the altar is prepared for Mass and the candles are lit. Here the ministers recite the psalm Judica me while the MC lights a troublesome candle.

Mass of this Vigil is similar to Holy Saturday - there is no Introit (the one in the Missal is only for private Masses on this day), hand bells are rung during the Gloria, and the acolytes don't hold candles at the Gospel. Above you can see the Last Gospel read by the Celebrant at the end of Mass.

Pentecost Vigil II

2011-06-07T16:39:00.004+01:00

Last Friday I had the most extraordinary encounter which I have been thinking of alongside this Saturday’s similarly extraordinary Pentecost Vigil. After an extremely onerous and dull day at work, I was dropped off near Mile End tube station by a colleague. I had intended to take the tube from there to my next engagement at Waterloo, but overcome by nostalgia for the foetid kebab joints and knife fights on the number 25 bus that comprise my memories of living in that part of London, I was persuaded instead to wander into Mile End park and take some sun. Unfortunately I fell asleep under the beating rays and woke up after half an hour looking like a spare rib, and I found myself rather in need of urgent refreshment. So, I retired to the nearest cafe, Roastars, under the “Green Bridge”, and sat down with several pint glasses of water and an iced latte. After a while, a young man with cropped hair and shorts asked if he could sit at my table, and naturally I replied “of course”. I noticed that he was wearing several bangles with cryptic slogans that I guessed must identify him as some sort of evangelical Christian. I suppose the mystery around such random inscriptions as WWJD or GODSTRONG are supposed to draw the curious into conversation with the wearer, and ultimately get them signed onto an Alpha course or something. This guy had two bracelets saying I AM SECOND, which definitely piqued my interest, and when I noticed he was writing out verses from Galatians in I AM SECOND-emblazoned notebooks, I said to myself “I have to find out who this nut is….and if I end up winding him up with my hardcore adherence to catholic doctrine then so be it”.

I shouldn’t have been so judgemental and self-assured. I so rarely encounter real live prots, and so my excitement at a perfect opportunity to counter-evangelise must be excused. Still, the ridiculous, arrogant idea that I was nurturing at that moment that I could convert him instantaneously with a salvo of rebuttals of his heretical non-doctrines and a visit to S. Magnus to seal the deal, should certainly not be excused. It turned out that I probably came away from that encounter having learnt far more profound things from him than I had managed to impart with my attempt to preach the True Faith.

We covered a range of topics; the Eucharist, the Blessed Virgin, invocation of the Saints, infant Baptism, and Confession and, of course, the Sacred Liturgy. Admittedly, although clearly a very devout young man, I have no problem saying that some of the views he expressed are heretical and run counter to the canons of the first ecumenical councils, which I had assumed would be our common ground. Then again, we are talking about a religion that teaches a form of sola scriptura that encourages a “what this Bible passages means to me personally in my life” individualist approach to Holy Writ, orchestrated by a succession of free-lance Pastors whose teaching authority derives more from their tithe-inflated bank balances than their endorsement by any legitimising or regulating system. This is a religion that has no concept of Tradition at all, in which “worship” consists of half an hour of preaching sandwiched between coffee and some soft Christian rock, and where the priestly exercise of Christ’s ministry of forgiveness in the Sacrament of Penance has been replaced by “discipleship meetings” with an “accountability partner”.

Our longest discussion was about infant baptism. I hope I managed to expound clearly the doctrine that the transformative grace imparted by the Sacrament of Baptism is not contingent upon the child’s understanding of what is happening. The Credobaptist Evangelical was not convinced and laid out the reasons – all worthy of consideration – why this is not so. We both claim that our respective beliefs are rooted in scripture, but mine are expressed in what I believe to be a Tradition shaped by the operation of the Holy Spirit, in which I can trust, and in which disagreements can be settled.

I won’t go further into Baptismal theology, as I am shamefully unschooled in anything beyond the very basics, but this discussion reminded me of the last time I witnessed the doctrinal vacuum created when Tradition retreats and subjectivity takes hold. I remember the first time our Parish celebrated Holy Week in the Older Rite, after the Paschal Vigil I received complaints from some parishioners who felt aggrieved at having been denied the opportunity to “renew their Baptismal promises” at the font, and that they were worried not having been able to do so. I sympathise with people who are attached to what, for them, is the only Paschal Vigil service they know, and I can completely understand how one would feel a sense of rupture, especially at so sensitive a time, in the pattern of worship they know, but I believe that these people, and countless other people who are subjected to the aliturgical modern rites year after year, have been persuaded to believe that the validity of their baptism is in peril, and they have been deceived by bad liturgy. Bad liturgy teaches bad theology, and for me, this is a perfect example.

The fact that the “baptismal promises”, the verbal assent to believe in Christ and rejection of Satan, were made on our behalf at our baptism as infants has no effect on our baptismal regeneration. At baptism, our soul is made entirely pure and white, this is what it means to die to sin and rise again to new life in the Sacramental waters of Baptism. While our souls may be sullied by sin as we grow older and attain reason and responsibility, our recourse is not to the “renewal” of those vows, but rather to the Sacraments of Penance and Holy Communion. The Sacrament of Confirmation is about “confirming”, at the age of reason, our initiation into the Church which is begun at Baptism. The supposed need to renew one’s baptismal promises annually at the Paschal Vigil erodes the teaching of the Church and brings nothing but confusion.

This morning I was looking over the texts of the Vigil of Pentecost, which as you can read below is a Baptismal Liturgy, which consists of the reading of Old Testament prophecies (the origin of which was to instruct the Catechumens), Blessing of the Font and Baptisms, Litany and then Mass in Red Vestments. As I read the collects, I realised how strongly this preparation for Pentecost, historically ranked second only to Easter, reverberates with the related themes of Baptismal regeneration and the operation of the Holy Spirit – our forefathers in the Faith had no need to worry about renewing their baptismal promises: the entire Liturgy sings with them. The many Collects between the prophecies ask for the continual outpouring of Grace on those already baptised.

O Lord God of hosts, who restorest those things that are broken down, and preservest those things that thou restorest : increase the peoples that shall be regenerated in the sanctification of thy name; that all who are washed in holy baptism may ever be guided by thy inspiration. Through.

Collect on the Sixth Prophecy

The character of this Liturgy was shaped by the first centuries of the Church, where entire households of Catechumens were received by Baptism: men, women AND their children. The Church was proclaiming in her Liturgy that there is one font of Baptism, one Fountain of this Grace from which these waters flow, and that all who wish to be saved must die to sin and be reborn: men, women, newborn children, regardless of physical or mental ability there is one font for all of them. This is a startling teaching, impossible to reconcile with worldly assumptions about people in different conditions of life, and it remains so today. There was no need for anxiety about one’s age or ability affecting their baptism because the Church proclaimed the opposite so confidently! So confidently, in fact, that it became impossible to baptise every Catechumen on the eve of Easter, and so the rest had to be baptised at the next Great Feast of Pentecost!

So what do we proclaim with the new non-Liturgies that have become the norm in the West? Ever noticed how those protestant pastors I mentioned above sometimes seem to be obsessed with one thing? The evil of homosexuality, the rapture, national apostasy, and the threat of Islam……These people re-mould Christianity around their own anxieties and obsessions and then impose this creed on their congregations, and they are not accountable. Whenever we liturgical practitioners presume to ad lib, excise, abolish, suppress, reform or tamper with the Liturgy, we behave exactly like those pastors, re-creating the worship of God in our own image to suit ourselves, not the diverse personalities of the plebs sancta Dei. Indeed what we are left with is no longer fit to be called leitourgia for that reason. We make it up as we go along...we make it "high looking" to impress people, or we make it cuddly to indulge certain expectations, allowing the zeitgeist to inform the Sacred Liturgy, and the Church, instead of the other way around. We find ourselves standing before nothing more than a wooden coffee table, and a font that is only a few drops deep. We end up seeking God’s forgiveness from our “accountability partner” and sipping coffee between hollow smiles, telling ourselves how good it all makes us feel to be a Christian.

The Vigil of Pentecost

2011-06-04T12:50:00.004+01:00

The Vigil of Pentecost will be celebrated in the Church of S. Magnus on Saturday 11th June at 6.30pm. This vigil, supressed in the devastating 1955 Holy Week reforms, is now almost never celebrated, and I am informed that if we manage to find Deacon and Subdeacon for our celebration at S. Magnus, it will likely be the first such celebration in this country since the vigil was supressed.

Gregory DiPippo's excellent Compendium of the Holy Week reforms, published on the New Liturgical Movement blog, includes a description of this Vigil, to which I can add little.

Synopsis of the Pre-Pius XII Ritual

Already in very ancient times, the sacrament of baptism was celebrated on the feast of Pentecost as on Easter; this is said explicitly by Pope Saint Siricius (384-399) in a letter to bishop Himerius of Tarragon. (Epist. ad Himerium cap. 2 : Patrologia Latina vol. XIII, col. 1131B-1148A) Pope Saint Leo I (440-461) reasserts that this was the practice of the Church in a letter to the bishops of Sicily, exhorting them to follow the example of the Apostle Peter, who baptized three thousand persons on Pentecost day. (Epist. XVI ad universos episcopos per Siciliam constitutos : P.L. LIV col. 695B-704A) This custom is expressed in the liturgy of the vigil of Pentecost, which resembles in many respects the rite of Holy Saturday. This resemblance is found in the Missal of St. Pius V, as in all of the missals that came before it, and in the medieval usages of the great cathedrals and religious orders.

The rite begins in the penitential color, violet. There is no blessing of a Paschal fire, nor of a Paschal candle, nor the Exsultet; therefore, the vigil begins with six prophecies, repeated from the vigil of Easter, each of which is followed by a prayer. (The three tracts from Easter night are also repeated in their respective places). The six prayers are different from those of the Easter vigil, but express in many respects the same ideas. After the sixth prophecy, the blessing of the baptismal font is repeated, changing only the prayer at the beginning, following which the Litany is sung. During the Litany, the major ministers return to the sacristy and change to red vestments for the Mass.

Other rites of the Easter vigil are repeated at this vigil Mass; there is no Introit, and the bells are rung at the Gloria in excelsis. (The Introit Cum sanctificatus fuero was later assigned for private Masses only.) The collect of the Mass refers to the baptismal character of this celebration even more clearly than that of the Easter vigil Mass. After the Alleluja of the Mass is sung the same Tract which is sung on Easter night. At the Gospel, the acolytes do not carry candles. Just as on Easter night the Resurrection is watched for, but not anticipated, so also with this same gesture, the Church watches for the coming of the Holy Spirit in tongues of fire, as Christ told His disciples to do, but does not anticipate it. A further reference to the baptisms done in the first part of the rite is found in the Canon of the Mass, in which the proper Hanc igitur of Easter is said. This text speaks explicitly of those whom the Lord “(has) deigned to regenerate of water and the Holy Spirit, granting to them remission of their sins. ” It is said in this Mass, and though the entire octave of Pentecost, as it is also said at the Mass of the Easter vigil, and throughout the octave.

Synopsis of the Pius XII Reforms

The 1955 reform almost completely removes this ancient tradition of the Roman Rite, suppressing the Prophecies, the blessing of the font, and the Litany. The Mass begins with the Introit which was formerly said only in private Masses. The rubrics about ringing the bells during the Gloria and not carrying candles at the Gospel are also suppressed. The text of the Mass itself is not changed; the same collect and the same Easter Hanc igitur are still said, although the baptismal rituals to which they refer are suppressed.

Copyright Gregory DiPippo 2009

So I'd urge you come to S. Magnus to take part in this most ancient and excellent preparation for the Great Feast of Pentecost. I don't know that another Church in London will be celebrating the vigil and although we hope to repeat it next year, God willing, this could be your one chance to attend this service. See you there!

May Devotion at S. Magnus

2011-05-10T15:22:00.010+01:00

On the Second Sunday after Easter, we celebrated our May Devotion in honour of Our Lady. After Mass, an image of Our Lady of Walsingham was carried in Procession through the streets of the City of London, and on arriving back at the Church, the image of the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham was crowned with a wreath of roses. The Devotion was organised by the Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina, which was founded in the Parish of S. Magnus the Martyr in 1343 and re-founded in 1922, the same year as Fr Hope-Patten revived the devotion to Our Lady of Walsingham by re-establishing a shrine in the Parish Church there. There's more information about the Fraternity on this blog, just click on the Fraternity Page in the right-hand menu. Membership forms are available on request.

The Procession arrives at the Monument.

The Procession around the monument. According to custom, a processional cross is carried by a Subdeacon.

Leaving the monument.

According to tradition, Processions are led by the Verger who in turn is preceded by the churchwardens of the Parish in their red gowns and staffs of office. Churchwardens have recently been appointed to the Parishes of S. Michael and S. Margaret, which make up the three United Parishes of which S. Magnus is one. The only remaining structure, however, is the Church of S. Magnus which serves all three.

The image in procession is that of Our Lady of Walsingham. She is carried in a sedan which usually constitutes the Pieta Shrine in the Church. The image is decked with seasonal flowers as a gesture of our devotion to the Mother of God.

After the Procession, the faithful retired to the courtyard where a Barbeque lunch was served.

Images of Holy Week from S. Magnus

2011-04-26T12:08:00.010+01:00

The High Altar before the Mass of Palm Sunday. Note the table of palms on the Epistle Side, draped in violet.

The ministers before the ceremonial re-rentry into the Church after the Palm Sunday Procession.

The ministers after the Mass of the Pre-Sanctified on Good Friday

The High Altar after Vespers on Good Friday

The Blessing of Incense at the Easter Vigil

The Deacon carrying the Reed (three pointed candle) into the Church for the Lumen Christi Procession, Holy Saturday

The Deacon lights the Paschal candle during the singing of the Exsultet. The Reed has carries the flame of the New Fire into the Church.

The Celebrant dips the Paschal Candle into the Font to fructify the Baptismal Waters during the Paschal Vigil.

S. Magnus Day 2011

2011-04-18T15:01:00.008+01:00

Just sharing some photos (taken on a mobile phone) from this year's S. Magnus day (April 16th). It is very rare that the feast falls in Lent, and I understand that in the Old Calender this would never have happened at all. Therefore, the propers for S. Magnus are based on those for a Martyr in Paschaltide, and in the Trondheim Use (the Archdiocese in which the cult of S. Magnus grew up), the Gospel is introduced by, not only a proper Alleluia, but also the Pascha nostrum immolatus est of Easter Day! This was extended to all Celebrations of S. Magnus day, even if the day strictly fell outside of Eastertide. But, this year we found ourselves celebrating our Patronal Feast in a veiled Church in Passiontide. Above you can see the Deacon and Subdeacon making their Confession, and then censing the Celebrant at the Introit.

The Celebrant and Ministers read the Introit and Kyrie. As you can see, a tunicled crucifer is in attendance, and adds solemnity to the occasion. The Lenten office was also commemorated: the second Collect etc and the Last Gospel being proper to the Saturday.

Here the Deacon takes the cruet of wine from the Subdeacon at the Offertory. It might interest you to know that the Vestments worn at Saturday's Celebration once belonged to Nashdom Abbey, and are part of a Pontifical set in the Spanish style. Although not visible here, the maniples are fringed with tassels. I wonder if the tunicle and dalmatic had even bigger ones which were deemed too excessive and removed.

The Shrine of S. Magnus, unveiled for our devotion. The flags in the flower arrangement are the old flag of Orkney. The red cross on a gold ground was supposed to be based on S. Magnus Erlendsson's own standard and bore his name as the unofficial flag of Orkney since the Islands came under Scottish rule. It was also used by the Kalmar Union of Scandinavian kingdoms until 1523. The unofficial flag was superseded in 2007 by a new version, approved by the Court of the Lord Lyon, which was designed by a man with his grandchildren's crayons. It is red with yellow and blue crosses and looks from a distance like the Norwegian flag.

Readers

2011-03-16T16:32:00.005Z

Recently, at a Solemn Celebration of Mass on an occasion when it was not possible to procure a Deacon, one of the servers was sent out as a lector to chant the Epistle of the Mass instead of the Priest. In accordance with Liturgical tradition, at a Missa Cantata, any "tonsured cleric" may chant the Epistle, but he does not receive the Celebrant's blessing afterwards as the Subdeacon does, and he carries out this office wearing a cassock and surplice.

This got me to thinking about the text of the Apostolic Letter which supressed the ancient order of Readers in the Roman Catholic Church, and redefined it as one of many "ministries" which may be carried out by lay people. Ministeria Quaedam:

2. What up to now were called minor orders are henceforth to be called ministries.

3. Ministries may be assigned to lay Christians; hence they are no longer to be considered as reserved to candidates for the sacrament of orders.

4. Two ministries, adapted to present-day needs, are to be preserved in the whole Latin Church, namely, those of reader and acolyte. The functions heretofore assigned to the subdeacon are entrusted to the reader and the acolyte...

5. The reader is appointed for a function proper to him, that of reading the word of God in the liturgical assembly. Accordingly, he is to proclaim the readings from sacred Scripture, except for the gospel in the Mass and other sacred celebrations; he is to recite the psalm between the readings when there is no psalmist; he is to present the intentions for the general intercessions in the absence of a deacon or cantor; he is to direct the singing and the participation by the faithful; he is to instruct the faithful for the worthy reception of the sacraments. He may also, insofar as may be necessary, take care of preparing other faithful who are appointed on a temporary basis to read the Scriptures in liturgical celebrations. That he may more fittingly and perfectly fulfill these functions, he is to meditate assiduously on sacred Scripture. Aware of the office he has undertaken, the reader is to make every effort and employ suitable means to acquire that increasingly warm and living love and knowledge of Scripture that will make him a more perfect disciple of the Lord.

The Letter, having supressed the order of Reader, and re-conceived its functions as a ministry, goes on to describe at length the functions and qualities of an individual who might take on that ministry. In effect, the list of functions above preserves substantially the office of Reader while supressing the order: essentially, Readers still have an office to perform, but they do not require ordination to do so. The notion that the office can be stripped entire from the order rather flies in the face of a traditional understanding of orders that is common to both East and West, namely that an individual is set aside by ordination conferred by the Ordinary and placed in the order and hierarchy of clergy, and in special cases where an individual fulfills an office pertaining to an order to which he has not been ordained, the office is curtailed or adjusted in some way to show this. A cleric not-a-Subdeacon who acts as Subdeacon at Mass may not, for instance, wear the maniple or re-build the Chalice at the Ablutions, and I understand that Byzantine readers who receive a blessing to act as Subdeacons by the Bishop receive Communion outisde of the Altar.

In most modern Liturgies to which I've been subjected, it seems that the assumption that Readers appointed from the laity would be trained has been entirely lost. The readings from scripture at Mass or the Office have been reconceived as a valuable opportunity for "active lay involvement" in the liturgy and as such are treated as a commodity which should be gifted to an individual deemed to be in need of validation, regardless of how good they are at actually reading so as to be heard and understood. This commodification of the Sacred Liturgy as an opportunity for pushy lay people to perform is absolutely detrimental to Parish life.

Anglicans took a step in the right direction by instituting the office of Lay Reader. These individuals vest in choir dress and wear a distinctive blue scarf, and as such are clearly identifiable to the congregations they serve. They train for a number of years and receive the blessing and license of the Bishop....but why not ordination? Last time I checked they trained for three years and received weekly pastoral instruction, why are they still "Lay"?

Again, I wonder if it is slowly dawning on the Church in the 21st century that Christians in the early days actually knew what they were doing by ordaining doormen, readers, exorcists and acolytes. Our reader at the Solemn Mass described above was chosen because he could sing in tune and has no problems reading. It was not the performance of an individual, there was no hiatus while someone shuffled from a pew, trampling people en route. The reading was sung by a person able to do so, which is why we call it a Sung Mass in the first place. It was orderly and edifying and contributed to the greater act of worship that we were involved in. Do we still really think we don't need minor orders?

Two Events...

2011-03-16T11:12:00.000Z

THE ANNUNCIATION
On Friday, March 25th we shall mark The Annunciation with a High Mass at 6.30 pm when the music will be Missa de Beata Virgine by the 16th century Spanish composer Cristobal de Morales and William Byrd’s Propers for this feast. If you are not celebrating this occasion in your own church, you would be most welcome to join us at St Magnus the Martyr.

ST MAGNUS DAY
This year our Patronal Festival (April 16th) falls on the Saturday before Palm Sunday, and although this is a busy liturgical time for us all, we shall celebrate the day with a High Mass at 12.30 p.m. to which we hope you can come. The mass setting will be by the French composer Marc de Ranse (1881 – 1951), his Messe en l’honneur du pieux Roi Saint Louis (1924)

Both these celebrations will be followed by quality refreshments, to which all are welcome.

Please have a look at our website for details of our Holy Week Liturgies (www.stmagnusmartyr.org.uk)

Blessing of the Thames 2011

2011-01-11T14:38:00.010Z

The Blessing of the Waters that is performed on the Feast of the Theophany in the East is well known. In the Old Roman rite, water was also blessed by dipping a cross into it (symbolic of Christ's Baptism) on the Eve of the Epiphany. At S. Magnus the Martyr, this ancient practice manifests itself as the Blessing of the Thames on the Sunday after the Epiphany, celebrated as the "satellite" Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, using the propers of the Epiphany Octave.

Above, you can see the Procession to the bridge forming outside S. Magnus.

Here, the Ministers leave the Church. Celebrant, Assistant Priest and an acting Subdeacon.

I have included this photo to illustrate that the Celebrant's cope features an image of the Holy Family. In the pre-Pius XII calender, this Sunday would have been the Feast of the Holy Family. All of these Liturgical observances, however, are inextricably linked in the history of the celebration of the Epiphany, and historically many different "epiphanies" or "manifestations" of Christ have been celebrated around this feast; the nativity, the angeli ad pastores episode in the Gospel, the coming of the Magi (as has developed in the West), the Baptism of Christ and finally the Wedding at Cana. While in the West these epiphanies have, to varying degrees, split off into different observances, the Armenians keep the Feast of the Theophany as the Nativity and the "Epiphanies" in one.

The Procession is led up onto London Bridge by the Verger of the Church. The Parish of S. Magnus, like many English churches, maintains the tradition of the Verger leading processions. An Icon of the Epiphany that is normally venerated in the Baptistery of S. Magnus was also borne in Procession.

The Solemn Blessing of the River has, like many other solemn blessings including that of palms on Palm Sunday, a structure rather like an abbreviated Mass. It starts with readings from the Old and New Testament, followed by a "Gradual" hymn of S. Ephrem, culminating in a Preface, Prayer of Blessing forming the "Canon" of the rite and followed by a Collect-like prayer and dismissal. Above you can see the Cardinal Rector of S. Magnus blessing the River while Canon Andrew Nunn of Southwark Cathedral holds the megaphone. This Blessing is a joint venture with Southwark, and the place of Blessing is the point at which the Parish boundaries of S. Magnus and S. Saviour's (now the Cathedral) meet, pretty much in the middle of the Bridge.

While the Old Roman Rite tamely dips a Cross into the Waters, the S. Magnus version, in common with Eastern Practices, involves a cross being thrown into the River Thames to bless it. Needless to say, no one is expected to jump in and retrieve it, as is common in Russia.....

After the Cross is thrown into the River, the people are aspersed with lustral water. Just as this ceremony of Blessing is a reminder of the sinless Christ submiting himself to Baptism at the hand of the Forerunner, so this sprinkling is a reminder of our Baptism, and our duty to witness to it always.

Gaudeamus omnes in Domino.....beati Thomae Martyris

2010-12-29T11:59:00.003Z

Today is the Feast of S. Thomas of Canterbury. You may have realised that I have a personal devotion to this Saint, having made a pilgrimage to Canterbury and venerated the Martyrdom and the Site of the Saint's Shrine in the Cathedral.

The Parish & Pilgrimage church of S. Magnus the Martyr is so named partly for its association with pilgrimages to Canterbury and Walsingham. In the case of Canterbury, a chapel of ease was located half-way across London Bridge within the Parish of S. Magnus-the-Martyr and this was traditionally where London pilgrims would say their prayers before setting off to Canterbury. In the Canterbury Tales, the pilgrims convene at the nearby Tabard Inn, just across the bridge in Southwark. The chapel of S. Thomas fell into disuse and was destroyed when the buildings on London Bridge were removed. The chapel can be seen in the scale model of London Bridge which is located at the back of S. Magnus church, and it is also depicted in the stained glass window on the South side of the church beneath an image of our co-Patron S. Thomas.

You may remember back in July I posted pictures of a procession from S. Magnus to the site of the old chapel on the feast of the Translation of the Relics of S. Thomas. I am pleased to report that S. Magnus has gratefully received a primary relic of our very own of S. Thomas, ex ossibus, which means that the Procession can now become an annual event if God wills.

Childermas

2010-12-28T16:45:00.003Z

Today's feast of the Holy Innocents is known in English as Childermas. This feast is a real liturgical curiosity. Certainly very ancient (going back in the West to at least 485), this feast is pegged in different traditions to either the "Sanctoral" or the "Seasonal" cycle of the year. While the Latin church keeps this feast on the 28th December, the Greeks on the 29th and the Syrians and Assyrians on the 27th, the Armenians on the Monday after the second Sunday of Pentecost, as they maintain that the Holy Innocents were killed fifteen weeks after the Nativity.

Another curiosity is the liturgical colour used for the feast. If the feast falls on a weekday, Violet is used. This stems from the Roman argument that since the Innocents were killed before they were able to attain the beatific vision, they should not be commemorated as other Martyrs, but in honour of the women of Bethlehem, the Gloria and Alleluia are not sung at the Mass. In the Gallican rites of France and parts of Germany, this distinction was not made and Red was used along with the Gloria and Alleluia. Therefore, in the Old Roman Rite, Violet is used if the feast falls on a weekday and Red is used if it falls on a Sunday (and on the Octave day, when the Gloria and Alleluia are also sung), a rare example of compromise between Roman and local uses.

In England, there was a custom of not working on whatever day of the week the feast fell on for the rest of the year until the next Childermas. It would be logical to assume that this custom was only followed by the very wealthy.

S. Stephen, Proto-Martyr, Deacon

2010-12-26T21:22:00.004Z

Who needs Bristol Cribbs Causeway shopping centre and turkey curry on "Boxing Day", when we could be having this:

Deacons in the Armenian church wear mitres on the feast of S. Stephen, and on other great feasts whenever there are seven deacons present. The Deacon's mitre is, as you can see, closer to a Byzantine Bishop's mitra than the Armenian Bishop's mitre, which I believe derives its shape from the Latin mitre. These ones are also holding small church-like structures which remind me of a Coptic icon of S. Stephen I have at home. In this image he is entirely localised to Egypt, carrying an Egyptian censer, a small church structure and wearing an ornamented alb and Coptic "mitra"(even though, to my knowledge, Coptic Deacons never wear mitres). These Armenian Deacons are living icons of the Greatest Deacon and the first to die for Christ.

The Holy Nativity

2010-12-24T19:39:00.003Z

Wishing a very Merry Christmas to all who visit this blog.

Thy Nativity, O Christ our God, hath shone forth the light of Wisdom upon the world!

-Troparion of the Nativity

Palm Sunday at S. Magnus (1935)

2010-12-20T17:35:00.006Z

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Great thanks are due to a member of the S. Magnus congregation who forwarded this video of Palm Sunday ceremonies in London. the video shows the Rector of S. Michael's and the Rector of S. Magnus, the famous Fr Henry Joy Fynes-Clinton processing down Lower Thames street and into the Church. It is amusing to see the cross being used, quite incorrectly, to knock for admittance. The foot of the cross should be used to knock three times against the door, not the upper part as is seen here. Also, the commentary is wrong: it is not the rector of S. Magnus knocking for admittance. One wonders if Fr Fynes-Clinton had stern words to say in the sacristy after the Mass.

The film then moves to Westminster Cathedral, where we see folded chasubles in use. It is a shame that only two priests in cope are in Vestments for the Procession at S. Magnus, as I'm sure Fr Fynes-Clinton would have copied what was happening at the Cathedral closely. I have read and been told that he preferred to celebrate a Missa Cantata as the principle Sunday Liturgy rather than to procure a Deacon and Subdeacon, perhaps (with reason, as we see here) he didn't trust other clergymen to get things right.

I hope this video goes some way to answering the criticisms I have patiently suffered from "Tranglicans" (a new hybrid species of Anglican in alliance with Roman Catholic Traditionalists whose primary ministry is to berate non-Papalist Anglicans for publicly declining the "generous offer" of Anglicanorum Coetibus). "Catholic Gossip" aside (I do not see how gossip can be a ministry of the Church, but oh well!), I have to say now, as Ex Fide the blogger, comments that compare my views unfavourably with those of the "supreme Anglican Papalist" Fr Fynes-Clinton, erstwhile rector of S. Magnus, do nothing to persuade me to change my position regarding the Ordinariate. I find it offensive and ultimately divisive; a terrible disservice to the cause of Unity.

This video shows Fr Fynes-Clinton in his heyday, indeed in the heyday of Anglo-Papalism and, for Roman Catholic Traditionalists, the Golden Era before Vatican II, even before Pius XII if he is what irks you! There is nothing to profit from evoking the ghosts of Fr Fynes-Clinton, Dom Gregory Dix, Fr Hope-Paten...........These men died 60 years ago, and they died as Anglicans! If Rome were as inviting as Traditionalists promise us it was and is now, then why did these men not seek conversion on their death beds or long before that? Indeed, is it not reasonable to assume, from a Roman point of view, that these men were schismatics, no, even promoted schism by not submitting to Rome, and therefore are probably in Hell? Or will someone create another story when their legacy is exalted as ""Anglican Patrimony""????

I have my reasons for not seeking submission to Rome which stem from an Ecclesiology and Theology that I believe is infinately more in keeping with Tradition than that promoted by so-called Traditionalists. I will not mock, berate or insult Anglicans who want to submit to Rome, I simply wish them the best of luck, but please, let me respectfully ask you that you refrain from attacking those of us who will not go.

I remember over a year ago, another blogger, a well-known RC Traditionalist posted a picture on his blog of the Sacristy of S. Magnus which contains a now infamous certificate of Papal blessing. In his post, and in the comments box below, we Anglo-Catholics were mocked by the Traditionalist crowd for practising some sort of quasi-Catholicism and accused of stupidly supposing that we believe ourselves to be under the Pope's jurisdiction. In other words, we were persona non grata in the RC Traditionalist movement. Suddenly, the blogosphere is alive with comments lauding these "Anglo-Catholics" who have managed to survive so long under Canterbury's tyranical regime, and the Trads out-do themselves in gasping excitedly about which Parish will fall next. Tranglicans have been born, and add "Anglican" voices to the hot air around the Apostolic Constitution. It reminds me not a little of the CNN coverage of the Iraq War, when Iraqi cities were falling to the Americans like dominoes, only to be lost later when it became apparent that the very people they had "liberated" turned on them. Not to suggest that AC will be a tragedy on the scale of the Iraq War, but Anglicans, think about how you were treated by Traditionalists two years ago. What has changed? Why is the one who ridiculed you now your best friend and your brother now your enemy? Which part of the Gospel encourages you to pick up stones and throw them so easily? God have mercy.....

Gaudete Sunday at S. Magnus

2010-12-13T12:55:00.003Z

A snap from yesterday's Mass of Advent III known as Gaudete Sunday. Rose-coloured vestments were worn, with the Deacon and Subdeacon wearing Dalmatic and Tunicle to lighten to the mood of Advent.

This set of Vestments (a complete High Mass set with humeral veil, cope and additional choir stoles) was a donation. As you can see, the Dalmatic and Tunicle are distinguished from each other as they ought be: the tunicle being slightly longer and bearing only one horizontal band. They both have the flap-sleeves common in French and Belgian vestments. The chasuble features an Agnus Dei embroidered motif and a large cross orphrey. The humeral veil is embroidered with IHS.

The Mass was served by the Rector, Fr Warner, with Fr Craig Barber as Deacon. Mr Jason Groves served as Subdeacon, celebrating his 20th Anniversary serving in that role. Twenty years ago he first served as Subdeacon Crucifer for Solemn Evensong of Advent III in Australia.

After the Liturgy, the people of S. Magnus retired as usual to the crypt, where refreshments were offered, including pink beetroot waffles, a beetroot and mackerel pate and "pink" cocktails (pink gin and cosmopolitans). Every single member of the congregation wore an item of pink (or rose-coloured) clothing to celebrate Gaudete Sunday, including the Premier Sacristan, Ex Fide, who was stunning in a pale pink Oxford shirt, it must be said.

It's very encouraging to see S. Magnus continuing in its strong and steady growth. It's a joy to receive visitors to the church from all over the world (owing to our location next to the Monument) and it's very satisfying to see so many people return Sunday by Sunday. I believe 2010 has broken the record for Weddings solemnized at S. Magnus, and next year's calender is looking full already (so book now!), with more weddings and baptisms scheduled. Perhaps the reason S. Magnus folk have gone all out to celebrate Gaudete Sunday is because there really is something to celebrate. Gaudeamus, because we are part of a community of witness that has flourished in an unlikely place, and which seems to defy all the doom and gloom stories of plummeting attendance and the death of the orthodox, catholic faith in the Church of England.

High Churchmanship and Anglo-Catholicism - what now?

2010-11-22T14:17:00.005Z

At some point in the last century, the term "High Church" became a perjorative term used by those who called themselves "Anglo-Catholics" to denote groups who had not become "ritually advanced" to the point of celebrating the Roman Liturgy and practising contemporary Roman Catholic devotions. The term was used to distinguish the post-Ritualist and predominantly Romanised Anglo-Catholics from those who persisted in the Tractarians' cautious cleaving to the Prayer Book whilst quietly reserving the Sacrament in aumbries and increasing celebrations of the Holy Communion on Sundays and feast days. In more recent times, "High Church" has been applied to Liturgy to describe practices that, while headed in the right direction, don't quite meet the accepted standard of the Western Rite: A Prayer Book Eucharist with Copes and incense on Feast Days rather than the Roman Mass followed by an Act of Consecration to the Sacred Heart or similar. The idea behind this use is that High Church parishes have not made it all the way to being fully "Catholic", as they insist on using Cranmer's Liturgy and regard Baroque church fittings, Ultramontane teaching and the promotion of contemporary Roman Catholic devotions as ostentatious and extreme. "After all," they would say, "this is the Church of England!".

This was a significant, if not the most signficant, split between the groups and parties that believed themselves to be heirs of the Oxford Movement. It was part of a trend that involved a dynamic between Teaching and Practice throughout the latter half of the nineteenth century, Tractarianism spawned the Branch Theory, and this focus on the relationship of the C of E to the Medieval Church instigated a re-appraisal of the Anglican Liturgy, creating the necessary conditions for the Ritualist movement, which in turn crystalised around Liturgical Romanism which produced and fed Ultramontanism and Anglo-Papalism, leading to the apogee of Anglo-Catholicism and the start of its slow decline after the 1960s.

At every stage of this development, there were those who fell away and refused to assent to the advances of the radicals, and the movement became characterised by the rivalry of conservative and extreme elements, both embarking on creative projects of scholarship in an attempt to justify their own party labels. There were Branch Theorists who vehemently opposed the re-introduction of "popish" liturgical practices from the Medieval Church. There were Liturgical Romanists (served by the SSPP publishers) who adopted the aesthetic, if not the substance, of contemporary Roman Liturgy, refusing to drop Sundays after Trinity and the Collect for Purity. One important group rivalled the Romanists in the last years of the 19th century and were dismissed as practitioners of "British Museum Religion". The Dearmer set and the Alcuin Club are now remembered for the famous put-down I just quoted, and their often eccentric attempts to imbue the Prayerbook Liturgy with Sarum ceremonial. They were superseded by Romanists, now claiming to be Anglo-Catholics, and their legacy fizzled out as they became identified with the defeated High Church label.

So where has all this taken us, and what do we have to show for our journey and our battles? Anglican Papalism lost its identity after Vatican II, and the Ultramontane leanings of its clergy led to continuous, sometimes debilitating, defections to Rome culminating in the exodus of 1992 in the wake of women's ordination to the Priesthood in the Church of England. Anglicanorum Coetibus stands to flush out the very last Anglo-Papists in the Anglican Communion (at least those who accept the Papal claims in toto and fantasise that they are under the Roman Pontiff's jurisdiction). In a curious irony, the very Anglo-Catholics who for so long have disparagingly referred to non-Romanised, and more recently "alternative-integrity" ritualist Anglicans, as mere "High Church" imitators, are now being beaten about the head with the same label by some Roman Catholic Traditionalists, eagerly awaiting the Ordinariate's Anglican liturgical contribution to their slightly ludicrous programme of the "Reform of the Reform" (the image of clergy obscurbed behind the 'Benedictine arrangement' candlesticks and crucifux at a west-facing altar is one example that springs to mind of this movement's bizarre urge to invent traditions).

Indeed, irony is the prevailing flavour of the current state of Anglo-Catholicism and the purpose and integrity of those Anglicans who don't go to Rome will be a serious question that demands a serious answer. For my part, I think it's worth taking a step back to evaluate what the whole point of the Oxford Movement has been, and my personal conclusion is that we need to serious review the work and teaching of the High Church movement, and especially those High Church Liturgists who started with the Prayerbook and worked backward.

The High Church movement was cerebral, scholarly, quiet and calm. In contrast to the extreme Romanists who tried to nudge the Church of England to catch up with contemporary Roman Catholic practice, the High Churchman started with the basic premise that the formulas o the Prayerbook were an adequate, even complete, statement of the Catholic and Apostolic faith of the Church of England, and yet at the same time they were not so prejudiced (as Evangelical Protestant apologists were) as to overlook or dismiss the Medieval Liturgy of Sarum, and the uses of other great Sees, and indeed these Liturgists produced some important scholarship on Liturgy in Medieval England, translating the Sarum Missal and Breviary. These translations allowed for the publication of editions of the Book of Common Prayer printed in parrallel with the Sarum Missal - an exercise that allowed Catholic Anglicans to see quite plainly that whatever Cranmer had intended to do to the English Liturgy, in most cases he had merely paraphrased the Sarum Liturgy in English.

The High Church liturgists also took a fundamentally different approach to the Romanists. Instead of accepting wholesale the Liturgical culture of contemporary Rome, and updating their liturgies in line with the latest prescriptions from the Vatican, the High Churchmen took a more measured approach, focusing on the good and authentic aspects of the Prayerbook liturgy and living out that Liturgy according to their understanding of the Church's Apostolic history: They made the Eucharist the principle Sunday service, and fiercely defended the daily Office against the proliferation of daily celebrations and evening Masses. They encouraged devout Communion at one principle Sunday service rather than banning it at High Celebrations as the Romanists did. They were keen on continuity with the Medieval Church whilst also proposing that the institution was in need of reform, and they only very cautiously introduced aspects of Medieval Liturgy, and rarely invented new services. The sorts of things they did bring back were authentic and original to the context, and they delighted in their Englishness. Crucifers in tunicles became associated with High Church or English Use Liturgy by Anglo-Papists who had become used to copying contemporary Roman Catholic Liturgical practice, which was itself prone to imitate the Papal Court Liturgies. This despite the fact, and without the knowledge, that even Acolytes wore the tunicle in Rome until fairly recently. As Romanism became more extreme and intolerant as ultramontanists rejected any liturgical practice not sanctioned by the Congration of Rites, High Churchmanship became more tolerant of the Church parties around it, sure in its Anglican identity and steady, measured rapprochement with its pre-Reformation past.

I have to admit I don't know a great deal about this group, or the High Church Divines that informed their teaching, but I think it is now time to re-appraise the High Church ideals, and ask how they might be relevant to the future of Catholic Anglicanism. Romanism and its logical conclusions are set to play out in the years ahead. We have to decide whether we will give up on the Church of England, or whether we will try to carve out a more durable, realistic and authentic identity within it.

The Office of the Dead - Absolution

2010-11-10T10:54:00.017Z

Perhaps prompted by the service of Solemn Vespers of the Dead which will be sung at S. Magnus tonight, I've been considering that part of the Office of the Dead that normally follows the Mass: the Absolution. This ceremony is interesting to me for two principle reasons: firstly that the same rites can be carried out whether a body is present or not, and secondly because the presence of a Subdeacon with cross, and more specifically, the Subdeacon of the Mass, lends this ceremony to comparison with other rites in which this configuration appears: the Procession of Palm Sunday and the Procession of Candlemass.

In previous posts, I've written about the "language" of Liturgy and how the use of certain prayers, vestments and liturgical colours and actions in the Roman rite form a structured discourse, not unlike a human language, which discloses meaning and "makes present" Christ's actions and attributes in the Liturgy. It seems to me that one can speak both of Christ's Sacramental presence in the Eucharist and His Liturgical presence in rites of the Liturgy (making sense of the ceremonies of the Gospel reading in the Mass etc).

We know that the Processions of Palm Sunday and Candlemas are a liturgical re-enactment, or making present, of events in the Gospel. In the case of Candlemas, the Presentation of Christ is enacted by the arrival at the Sanctuary gates of the Cross, born by a Subdeacon, while a description of the prescribed sacrifice is sung by the choir. On Palm Sunday, the Cross is again used a type of Christ and is processed among palms and hymns before arriving at the Church doors, the Gate of Jerusalem, where the Subdeacon knocks on the door with the Processional Cross, and those outside and inside the church begin a sung dialogue of Praise and welcome.

What then, is being made present in the Absolution of the Dead? Well, as with the two examples above, the clue is in the prayers recited and the configuration of the Subdeacon and Cross. In this rite, the procession forms essentially as at the other Celebrations, the Subdeacon and Cross with Acolytes either side and preceded by the Thurifer, and the Subdeacon goes to stand at the head of the Bier. This is clearly important because the Subdeacon will be facing the Altar in the case of a layman or empty bier, or facing West at the Bier of a simple Priest or Bishop. The link between the Cross and the head of the Deceased is important. The rites begin with the Priest Celebrant facing the Cross, wherever it be, beginning with:

ENTER not into judgment with Thy servant, O LORD, for in Thy Sight can no man living be justified. Judge him not therefore, O LORD, whom the prayers of the faithful commend unto Thee, but of Thy mercy let him who, when alive, was signed in the Name of the HOLY TRINITY, escape Thy just vengeance. Who livest and reignest, world without end. Amen.

If there be a body present, this prayer is followed by the singing of the Libera Me:

R/.. Deliver me, O LORD, from death eternal in that day tremendous: when the Heavens and the earth shall be moved: when Thou comest to judge the world by fire. V/. I am in fear and trembling until the sifting is at hand, and the wrath about to come. *When the Heavens and the earth shall be moved. V/. That day, a day of wrath, of calamity and misery, a great day, and exceeding bitter. *When Thou comest to judge the world by fire. V/. Rest eternal grant to them, O LORD, and let light perpetual shine upon them. R/. Deliver me, O LORD,....... by fire.

Incense is imposed and blessed, and the Kyrie Eleison sung antiphonally by one side of the choir, then the other. The Celebrant then intones the Pater Noster while aspersing and then censing the Bier. The Priest, significantly, is instructed to bow low when passing the cross, while the Deacon genuflects, meaning the Cross, in common with Palm Sunday and Candlemass, is a liturgical object that has been invested with Christ's symbolic, liturgical presence for the sake of this re-enactment. There follows a collect:

O GOD, Whose nature and property is ever to have mercy and to forgive, receive our humble petitions for the soul of Thy servant N., which Thou hast commanded to pass out of this world: deliver it not into the hands of the Enemy, neither forget it at the last, but command it to be received by Thy holy Angels, and to be carried into the land of the living; and, forasmuch as he hoped and believed in Thee, let him be counted worthy to rejoice in the fellowship of Thy Saints. Through our LORD JESUS CHRIST, Thy SON, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee in the Unity of the HOLY GHOST, GOD, for ever and ever. Amen.

...and the absolution....

ABSOLVE, O LORD, we beseech Thee, the soul of Thy servant (or handmaid), N., that though dead to the world, he may live to Thee; and whatsoever he hath done amiss in his human conversation, through the weakness of the flesh, do Thou by the pardon of Thy most merciful loving-kindness wipe away. Through CHRIST our LORD, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee in the Unity of the HOLY GHOST, GOD, for ever and ever. Amen.

So what is being enacted here? The prayers here share the common theme of begging mercy from the Almighty, the pardoning of offences at the general Resurrection, with Christ sitting in judgement. However, as we well know, this is a future event alluded to in the Gospel, not an historical event that we can re-enact. Could it be then, that this ceremony is a shadow of the Judgement to come? The image is quite clear: Christ at the head of the deceased Christian, who is surrounded (quite literally here) by the prayers of the living. The clergy are directed to hold lighted candles for the absolution, as at Candlemass and Palm Sunday, signifying the active participation of those present in the Liturgical action. Nonetheless, this is not strictly a "re-enactment" of the Judgement, but rather an illustration of it, perhaps more aptly, an "ikon" of the Judgement. A comparison springs to mind in the ceremonies of the Paschal Vigil, when the Lumen Christi procession is made by the Deacon in white vestments through a dark church, where the ministers and Altar are still dressed in Violet. One cannot say where in this Vigil the Resurrection is actually "enacted", although there are allusions to It throughout the beginning the of Vigil.

My thesis would also be that the Ceremony of Absolution could also be interpreted in light of the Descent of Christ into hades, if only because the Libera Me evokes this, and because of it is represented in the Byzantine Liturgy of Holy Saturday. For example at the Midnight office, a procession is made around the Church with the new Paschal flame-lit candles, while the Church inside is decked for the Feast. The Priest knocks on the church doors with the Cross (not unlike Palm Sunday) and begins a dialogue with a "voice of Hades" from inside the Church, which are then flung open to symbolise the gates of Hades being destroyed by Christ.

Perhaps because the enactment of this event is not explicit in the Roman Paschal liturgy, I can't help wondering of there is something of the Descent in the ceremony of Absolution. The Descent was so prominent in Patristic teaching during the early formative years of the Roman Rite, and there are ceremonial aspects in it which could relate to Byzantine practice - I'm thinking particularly of the Pall-like Plashchanitsa (shroud depicting the dead Christ) being moved from the Sepulchre to the Altar of the Church, the Procession that follows it. The Catholic Encyclopaedia says of the Libera me: "This is one of the few texts in the Roman Liturgy alluding to Christ's into hell. It is also a very ancient composition". All of this opens the possibility that something of the Descent that was originally part of Roman or other Western Paschal Liturgies got transferred to the Office of the Dead. I'm very keen to hear readers' views on this.

My final point is this: One must never underestimate the doctrinal core of the Sacred Liturgy. I have often discussed Liturgy as analogous to language, and like language, the Liturgy is also a medium of instruction. If one were to draw a diagram of Catholic theology on Prayer for the Dead, it would probably look very much like a plan-view of the Absolution ceremony: the dead are surrounded by the prayers of the faithful; a priest pleads before Christ the Head on their behalf and offers prayers beseeching Absolution. The Dead are honoured by the presence of mourners with candles, their physical remains, or their "ikon", are censed and lustrated etc. The Sacred Liturgy is effectively the language of our Salvation: it discloses to us the very essence of our Faith, and allows us to live the Gospel and to live "in" the Gospel, as Christ is made Sacramentally, Liturgically, figuratively present to us. This is the brilliance of the Old Rite, and this brilliance is lost the moment we start assenting to commitee religion and bad, spurious, invented liturgical practice. To those who continue to flog a dead horse: the Modern Roman Rite, Common Worship, the so-called Extraordinary form of the Roman Rite, anything that represents a serious and damaging breach with Traditional practice: what they are affirming in the name of obedience to the Pope, or preference for modern language, or whatever, is a total ignorance of, and lack of concern for, the richness of the Traditional Liturgy. This just isn't right.

More on Deacons, and Maniples

2010-11-05T09:49:00.022Z

More on the subject of Deacons, and more specifically the question "Is a Priest a Deacon?" which has been exercising my mind over the last few days.

I broached this topic with an Anglican clergymen that I met when he was a recently ordained Deacon and who is now a Priest. He said that yes, he was a Deacon. One sign of this is the Priest and Bishop's use of the Maniple, which has its origins in the towel carried by the Deacon. A quick glance at the Catholic Encyclopaedia, which I tend to believe and trust, seems to contradict this, however. The origin of the Maniple is supposedly in a small mappa, or handkerchief which was ornamental and rarely put to actual use, and was carried by anyone of high rank in the left hand. The evidence for this is found in the peculiar use of this vestment by the Bishop who is handed His Maniple to wear at the prayer Indulgentiam in the Mass, while other clergy put theirs on before Mass begins. The Maniple, then, has as its origin a sign of status, rather than service, although the modern Maniple could well be a conflation of the ornamental maniple with other, more practical cloths and towels employed by clergy in the service of the Altar, the Deacon included. Furthermore, along with the development of the Subdiaconate as a Major or higher Order, the Maniple came to be given to the Subdeacon at his ordination, placed on his arm by the Bishop himself, almost as a sign of his inclusion in the higher ranks of clergy. Additionally, the analogous vestment in the Byzantine rite, the epigonation (that hangs from the cincture) belongs only to the Bishop (and there exists an exclusively Papal version in the West). The other possible analogy, the epimanikia, are ornamental cuffs worn by Bishops, Priests and (strict) Deacons.

This is quite a diversion from the actual question "Is a Priest a Deacon?" which the Roman Church logically affirms, since She teaches that Ordination produces an indellible mark on the soul: a diaconal ordination cannot be undone, and diaconal orders are not revoked. It seems to me that a mythology of this gradual acquisition of Orders (indistinct from Office) has been projected onto the Liturgy, which is why Catholics can say a Bishop is Priest, Deacon and Subdeacon when vested in Chasuble, Dalmatic and Tunicle at the Liturgy.

My assertion is that in the West, there has traditionally been a distinction (now lost) between Orders and Office, which comes out in the oldest forms of Ordination rites. The "possession" of certain Vestments by certain Orders is also false, generating an ecclesiastical version of secular "insignia", but probably stems from the idea that as a clergyman ascends through the Orders, he retains their proper Offices and therefore some visible sign of them. If that is true, why do we have Mitred Abbots (who are not in Episcopal Orders) and Deacons and Subdeacons in Folded Chasubles (evidence that the planeta was not originally only a Sacerdotal vestment)?

My feeling is that this conflation of Orders and Offices in the West, and all that comes with it, has been had overwhelmingly negative effect on Western Liturgy: the virtual suppression of the Diaconate, making the Office of Deacon a temporary state from which one will almost invariably proceed to be Priested, and in any case not an important office at all, since all functions can be fulfilled by a Priest; the actual suppression of the Subdiaconate and Minor Orders in our own time (regardless of their antiquity) and, finally, the evolution of the "Server" as an ambiguous category of person occupying the borderland between clergy and laity and therefore quite unregulated and uncontrollable. Given all this, it hardly surprises me when I see Romanized Anglican "Priest-Deacons" forget the rules and kiss the Gospel Book at a Pontifical Liturgy: they simply don't know what they're supposed to be doing, and in most cases, as long as there's incense and pretty vestments, they don't even care.

The first time I opened a Pontifical, I couldn't believe what I was seeing: all the Ceremonies and Rites for instituting and ordaining every category of clergy you would ever need (and some you might think you don't), and blessings for pretty much every eventuality. These rites are effectively dead to most of the Western Church, which is a shameful neglect and rejection of our very anchor in the Faith. When will we learn that we have to let the Sacred Liturgy, that great repository of Tradition, teach us what to do? When will we stop projecting our own superstitious symbolism onto the Liturgy, and hacking away at its integrity with our own confused notions of what is "permissable" or "convenient"? The moment we start constructing the Liturgy (or a Liturgy) around ourselves is the moment when we start making up our own religion, and after that, there's just no point.

Priests, Deacons, Subdeacons...and Ethiopians

2010-11-03T12:36:00.004Z

(Picture from Wikipedia)

I don't have much time to linger on Liturgical blogs these days, alas. Whenever I do look at RC tradworld blogs, however, I do notice one feature of tradworld liturgies that irks me: the practice of priests serving the Liturgy not as priests, but rather as Deacons and Subdeacons. I've also been reading a little about the Ethiopian rite of the Divine Liturgy and tradworld vs Ethiopian Orthodox is quite a contrast.

Reading tradworld rubrical guides, new and reprinted, one often sees instructions to the effect that Priests may carry out the functions of the Deacon or Subdeacon at Mass, or similar. In the Latin rite, a layman may fulfill the functions of the Subdeacon, with certain restrictions, of course, on what he can wear and do. This raises several important questions about how the Western Church "does" Liturgy: Are we saying that the rite is inherently defective, because it puts into vestments a person (the Subdeacon) who needn't be ordained to fulfill that office? Why is it that under current rules, both an ordained priest and a layman can serve as Subdeacons at the Liturgy? Does that make sense? Is there supposed to be a sharp line between clergy and laity, and which side of the Minor Orders does it fall on?

At the Ethiopian Liturgy, one will find at least five (seven is canonically correct) ministers: The Celebrant, the Assistant Priest, the Deacon, the Subdeacon, and the Lector, to which Fanbearer and Acolyte are added to make up the canonically required seven. A Priest assists, but he does so as an Assistant Priest. There is no notion of "demoting" him to the rank of Deacon for the duration of the liturgy.

Western practice begs the question, what actually is the Priest-Deacon? Is he a just a Priest in Deacon's clothing? If he is, why does he receive Communion with his stole tied inappropriately, or if he's acting as Subdeacon, not at all? The inconsistencies that arise, where the Priest in choir is expected to receive Communion in a stole, but the Priest-in-Tunicle isn't!

Another major question is that of the relationship between Office and Liturgical Function. My understanding of Orders, starting from scripture and going on to the Fathers, is that each clerical order has both an Office and a Function. In some cases, the liturgical function overlaps a little: Bishops and Priests both celebrate the Liturgy, Subdeacons and Lectors (formerly) both chant Readings. Yet, their respective offices are not precisely the same. Is it right then, for a priest to temporarily relinquish his proper function to fulfill that of another minister, or for a layman to usurp the liturgical function proper to a Subdeacon?

This might all seem like so much splitting of hairs, and shying away from providing real answers. But comparing the Ethiopian and Latin-rite practice reveals the massive gulf between how East and West project their own notions of convenience onto the Liturgy.

Convenience does matter, though. In my church, I'm used to priests acting as Deacons. We don't have a Deacon affiliated to the Parish, and when one visits, he acts as Deacon. Luckily though, I don't think I've ever seen a Priest act as Subdeacon in the Parish (which must be one of the worst liturgical solecisms ever!). The rotation of lay servers in this role is perhaps not the ideal, but is certainly better practice than using a priest, and approaches at least a "simulation" of ministers in minor orders. And to my mind, the minor orders are the answer to this problem. That and the promotion of the Diaconate. One of the good things (but possibly the worst named) to come out of late twentieth-century mucking around with the Liturgy is the revival of the "Permanent" Diaconate, individuals who are ordained as Deacons to fulfill the Office of pastoral care and teaching, and the Functions of the Deacon at the Liturgy. Surely that is the first step in achieving an understanding of orders that chimes with scripture and tradition.

Happy Feast of S. Gerard Majella

2010-10-16T17:08:00.000+01:00

Wishing everyone a happy feast of S. Gerard Majella, the patron saint of, among other things, expectant mothers and a good confession. Unfortunately I haven't had time to organise anything at S. Magnus (I originally wanted to keep a Triduum in honour of S. Gerard in some way or another) and frankly I'd rather stay at home and say the Kosher Hours rather than schlep all the way to the Redemptorist church in Clapham for a Hiberno-Nigerian fertility liturgy.

Although his cult can seem irrelevant to your average 20-something non-pregnant male, I've had a strong affection for this saint ever since I first read his Vita, which is available in full online. If you disregard the florid devotional tone of this book, the character of S. Gerard emerges - a humble, wise, generous young man who had the most wretched start and end to his short life, but who brought light and joy to so many. Happy feast!

The Antidoron, the Pain Benit and the Sunday Loaf

2010-08-25T10:59:00.006+01:00

I've been considering quite a lot recently the role and history of blessed bread in the liturgy and by extension, in parish life. The distribution of bread which is blessed, not consecrated, at the conclusion of the Liturgy is found in both Western and Eastern liturgical traditions. The Antidoron, the remains of the Eucharistic breads not consecrated during the Liturgy, is distrubted after every Liturgy amongst Russian and Greek Orthodox christians. The custom has as much of a history in the West, attested by the existence of no fewer that six benedictio panis prayers in the Roman Ritual, and the survival in France of the pain benit, bread blessed before, during or after the liturgy and distributed to the faithful as a sign of charity and community.

The common origin of both is found in the primitive liturgy, where the faithful would supply the bread that would be consecrated in the Liturgy. It is assumed by some that surplus bread was consumed by those who had been present at the Liturgy, including the catechumens (Gregory Dix makes reference to this in his description of the primitive liturgy in Sacramental Life, where he imagines a modern re-enaction consisting of secretive Christians arriving at a house laden with scones to be consecrated!). This custom survived as the Fermentum, where a Bishop would send consecrated Eucharistic Bread to his priests as a sign of their communion. Later, in order to prevent profanation of the Sacrament, as as the baking and supplying of the bread became the responsibility of ministers, supported by the donations of the faithful, the parrallel customs of the Western eulogia and the Eastern Antidoron took shape. As the Catholic Encyclopaedia notes:

The usage then began of sending blessed bread instead of the Holy Communion to those who did not communicate at the Mass, and to those who might wish to receive this gift as a pledge of communion of faith. These who did not communicate received bread offered at the Offertory the Mass but not consecrated. It appears to have received no other blessing than that of the Offertory Prayer, and was considered blessed because it formed part of the oblation. This bread is called eulogia, because it is blessed and because a blessing accompanies its use; it is also called antidoron, because it is a substitute for the doron, the real gift, which is the Holy Eucharist. The eulogia prescribed in the liturgies of St. Basil and St. John Chrysostom, but now it is distributed to all, both communicants and non-communicants. It existed also in the West, and is mentioned by St. Gregory of Tours, the Council of Nantes, and Leo IV in terms which would make it appear a somewhat universal custom.

Other small loaves, blessed but not consecrated, were also called eulogiae, and used by Bishops in a similar way to the fermentum, and the sending of a loaf signified by a Bishop could signify the resumption of communion after a schism or censure.

The development in the West of the wafer-like Eucharist host, which could not be easily baked in most homes and became a task entrusted to religious, signified the beginning of the end of the original eulogia, bread presented at the Offertory. The custom survived, however, in France, where one continues to see vestiges of Liturgical praxis that have died out in the rite of Rome. CE again:

Later, when the faithful no longer furnished the altar-bread, a custom arose of bringing bread to the church for the special purpose of having it blessed and distributed among those present as token of mutual love and union, and this custom still exists in the Western Church, especially in France. This blessed bread was called panis benedictus, panis lustratus, panis lustralis, and is now known in France as pain bénit. It differs from the eugloia mentioned above, because it is not a part of the oblation from which the particle to be consecrated in the Mass is selected, but rather is common bread which receives a special benediction. In many places it is the custom for each family in turn to present the bread on Sundays and feast days, while in other places only the wealthier families furnish it. Generally the bread is presented with some solemnity at the Offertory of the parochial Mass, and the priest blesses it before the Oblation of the Host and Chalice, but different customs exist in different dioceses. The prayer ordinarily used for the blessing is the first or second: benedictio panis printed in the Roman missal and ritual. The faithful were exhorted to partake of it in the church, but frequently it was carried home. This blessed bread is a sacramental, which should excite Christians to practice especially the virtues of charity, and unity of spirit, and which brings blessings to those who partake of it with due devotion. The Priest, when blessing it, prays that those who eat it may receive health both of soul and body: "ut omnes ex eo gustantes inde corporis et animae percipant sanitatem"; "ut sit omnibus sumentibus salus mentis et corporis". In some instances the pain bénit was used not only with superstitious intent, and its virtues exaggerated beyond measure, but also for profane purposes. This usage was brought from France Canada, and was practised chiefly in the province of Quebec. There the pain bénit had blessed immediately after the Asperges, and then distributed to those who assisted at high Mass. The parishioners furnished it in turn, and vied with one another in presenting as rich and fine a pain bénit as possible, until finally the bishops, seeing that it entailed too much expense upon the poor circumstances, prohibited it. Within the last twenty-five and thirty years the custom has almost entirely disappeared.

I'm not very knowledgeable about the extent of this practice in England, although it would seem to make sense that in Sarum something similar was done with bread as in France, at least on major feasts. However, the custom of wealthier parishioners supplying bread for the needs of the poor seems to have been a part of Parish life in the post-reformation Church of England, and to have possibly flourished on account of the Poor Laws enacted from the 16th-19th centuries. My own Parish church of S. Magnus, built by Wren in 1676, features eight small shelves either side of the main doors in the Narthex to house seven loaves, which were distributed to poor families after Sunday Service. It is unlikely that this bread ever received a special benediction before distribution, but the fact that this bread was donated by those with means to do so for the benefit of fellow Christians, as well as the mere fact that this bread was placed in individual shelves visible to all as they left the Church means this custom of the Sunday Loaf is linked, at least in ethos, to the eulogia of old.

I believe personally that all of these uses of bread honour an ancient and authentic aspect of the liturgy; that of giving. The Sacrifice of the Mass, depends in material terms on the giving of real bread and wine by the faithful, or at least having contributed by giving money. The consecrated Bread was received by those initiated and disposed to do so, but surplus bread, blessed not consecrated, was an important sign of the Christian's belonging to the community, even if he is unbaptised. As we saw with the pain benit, when the Eucharistic bread was no longer supplied directly by the faithful, they substituted ordinary bread, blessed at some point during the Liturgy, to be distributed afterwards. To my mind, this is the meanings of the word "leitourgia", which signifies the whole community of the faithful supplying the spiritual and the material substance of the Eucharistic Sacrifice. To disinvest them of this opportunity to contribute materially, is the first step towards alienating the faithful from the liturgy of the Mass. I would urge "practitioners" of Liturgy to consider reviving the custom of the pain benit, or preferrably of the actual eulogia (blessed by being part of the Offertory). It would be quite simple for an MC or server to place a basket of bread on the altar during the Offertory which could be removed after having been blessed at "haec dona, haec munera" and distributed after Mass. Alternatively, bread could be blessed after Mass according to the Ritual and distributed in the Narthex. Does that sound like such an eccentricity.

Former member of the congregation of S. Magnus speaks out about present abuses: exclusive voice from the grave....

2010-08-25T10:02:00.003+01:00

"Many former members of the congregation [of S. Magnus] in more solid days are astonished by the church's present life and its breach with earlier traditions, little of which any longer appear to be understood."

-Anonymous [so far failed to present himself by name, but rumoured to be the voice of Myles Coverdale speaking from the grave]

Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina in Walsingham

2010-07-27T13:53:00.005+01:00

Good Walsingham Procession...

Bad Walsingham Procession - I don't see why pilgrims should have to carry Our Lady of Ronseal around, rather than an image that looks more like the real McCoy. Unrobed image-bearers and those funny little pen-lights around the statue. Oh dear.....

Just wanted to share a few photos from this year's pilgrimage to Walsingham with the Fraternity of Our Lady de Salve Regina, which happened this weekend.

The Fraternity has a very interesting history, which you can read below. In common with the Shrine at Walsingham, the Fraternity was a 20th century revival of a medieval institution, and in many ways the modern history of the Fraternity is intimately linked with the Walsingham shrine, reflecting the close partnership between Fr Hope Patten and Fr Fynes-Clinton in the 20th century Catholic movement. The Walsingham shrine at S. Magnus is maintained by the Fraternity, and is an official starting point for pilgrimages to Walsingham. The Fraternity is also represented in the church's fabric by a stained glass window above the Lady Chapel of S. Magnus, which features the Fraternity's badge.

Tat-spotters will notice that in the photos I am wearing a blue sash or ribbon around my neck when robed for serving liturgical or devotional functions. This blue and gold band is the privilege of members of the Court that governs the Fraternity, and it is worn at all Fraternity events and by Court Members whenever they serve or celebrate the Sacraments. If you'd like more information about the Fraternity, or you'd like to join, then please contact me.

From the S. Magnus website :

Fraternity of Our Lady De Salve Regina

A Fraternity was founded in 1343 for the purpose of singing the hymn Salve Regina - a practice that was repeated in a number of other churches of medieval London. Records of neighbouring churches show that they too observe this practice with entries in several wills leaving property and money for the purpose.

Here at St. Magnus the image took the form of the Salutation of the Virgin by the Archangel Gabriel. Subscriptions of the members were devoted towards the five candles that were burnt before the statue during the singing of the hymn. Further allotments of money were used to provide altar cloths, plate and other accessories for the maintenance of the chapel. The architect of Westminster Hall, Henry Yevele, left in his will money to maintain a lamp that was to burn perpetually in front of the statue. Yevele, who died in 1400, was buried in the nearby chapel.

At the time of the Reformation in the 16th century the Fraternity was dissolved, and not reformed again until 1922. Currently [1994] there are some fifty to sixty members. The hymn with petitioning prayers is said or sung after the Eucharist throughout the year. The Fraternity's badge is shown in the stained glass window at the East end of the North wall of the church above the reredos of the Lady Chapel altar.

Five wax candles were burnt in honour of the Five Joys of Mary: 1 The Annunciation St. Luke i, 26-38 2 The Visitation St. Luke i, 39-56 3 The Birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ St. Luke ii, 1-19 4 The Presentation in the Temple St. Luke ii, 22- 39 5 The Finding in the Temple St. Luke ii, 41-51 As recited in the Rosary.

Procession of the Relic of S. Thomas of Canterbury

2010-07-05T19:46:00.007+01:00

This Sunday at S. Magnus we kept the Feast of the Translation of the Relics of S. Thomas of Canterbury. After a Sung Mass, a relic of the Saint which was kindly lent to us for the occassion was transferred from the High Altar to a Feretory and Bier, and taken in Procession, carried by two Subdeacons, to London Bridge. The Old London Bridge, whose thoroughfare formerly went under the bell tower of S. Magnus, once had a chapel dedicated to Saint Thomas of Canterbury where pilgrims on the medieval pilgrimage route would gather before heading over to Southwark and on to Canterbury. This chapel, which is depicted in a window and model in S. Magnus church belonged to the Parish of Saint Magnus the Martyr, and so we have inherited that saint's special patronage.

The Mass was Sung by the Vicar, Fr Philip, who wore a red chasuble featuring the Arms of Saint Thomas.

As the Procession left the church, the choir began singing the petitions of the Litany of the Saints.

Here you can see the beginning of the Procession. You'll notice that S. Magnus maintains the venerable tradition of the Verger, who carries a mace and wears a distinctive verger's hat.

The Procession goes up the steps from Lower Thames Street onto the Bridge.

At the approximate place of the former Chapel, the relics made a station, and the Office of Sext was sung. This was followed by the Anthem of the Benedictus of the Office of S. Thomas of Canterbury, using the Sarum chant. On the return to the Church, the "praise psalms" 148, 149 and 150 were sung. On arriving at the church, the choir sang the Antiphon of the Magnificat of the aforementioned Office, followed by the versicle and collect. The reliquery was then removed from the Feretory, and place on the High Atlar, then censed, and the faithful had an opportunity to venerate. The reliquery also contained a fragment of the True Cross, among other relics, which explains the genuflections made by some. After Benediction of the Relic, the dismissal was given and all retired to a delicious curry lunch in the sun.

Comments welcome...

2010-06-22T12:03:00.003+01:00

...although I do wonder whether I should adopt a more stringent policy on which comments will be published.

Ex Fide is a personal blog, and the essential keywords are "Catholic Liturgy and devotions". I'm starting to wonder whether any comments on ecclesiological controversies should be allowed to appear at all, since they almost always upset people. Anglicanorum Coetibus is a hot topic, but this blog really wasn't set up to provide a platform for partisan mud-slinging. There are many other blogs and discussion groups that are dedicated to reasonable (and unreasonable) debate, and they do it much better and involve far more people than this one.

The main reason that I started writing Ex Fide was to share the joy that I experience from being a Catholic Christian, being part of a worshipping community that strives always to live the Gospel, and to explore it in a way that is often fun, sometimes informative, always honest.

It is always the more light-hearted posts on this blog that attract the most derisive comments, and there are always people waiting for the next swish of lace or similar to use as ammunition against us. I'm personally not interested in defending myself against charges of frivolity and triviality, but in the interests of others, I'm not happy to let this blog become a blackboard for insulting Anglo-Catholics. I firmly believe that being a Christian can be, and sometimes should be, about having fun, and not taking oneself too seriously. That's largely what Ex Fide is all about. Therefore, if you don't want to read my ramblings on Liturgy, vestments, birettas, home altars or anything else, then kindly don't bother to waste your time reading this blog, and certainly don't go the extra length to leave a comment.

Future trends at S. Magnus....

2010-06-10T12:12:00.007+01:00

I think you can guess where this is going.....apparelled amices and pear-shaped chasubles are already making inroads in the Parish, and more than one person has suggested we crown the Pieta, add some tears of real crystal and parade her on Good Friday under the title "La Santisima Virgen de los Dolores La del Puente"....

The Place of Chanting the Lessons at High Mass

2010-06-09T10:49:00.014+01:00

What you can see above is a typical image from a typical S. Magnus Liturgy, of the Subdeacon reading the Epistle of the Mass accompanied by the MC. Now Rubricists will balk at the dreadful disregard of Roman custom in a Parish that claims to practice the traditional Roman Rite in full. I do myself sometimes wonder how to justify this perhaps eccentric custom of having the Subdeacon sing the Epistle from the gates of the Sanctuary.

I refer frenquently as the Classical Roman Rite, by which I mean that developed rite which existed in regional "dialects" both within and without the immediate Central control of later Committees. I include under that term the Roman Rite properly called (i.e. the Use of the City of Rome) which came to be regarded as the normative, authoritative form during the Counter Reformation, as well as regional varieties of the same Liturgy which are now termed "Uses". This term necessarily includes various customs which were region-specific, and some of these customs applied to the place of reading the Epistle(s) at Mass. The Roman custom that is now regarded as the norm is that the Subdeacon, having reverenced the Altar stands some distance from it towards the edge of the Sanctuary (the South side) and sings the Epistle facing East, but as I will mention shortly, this custom is only an approximation of what happened anciently.

However, another question to consider is practicality. While the Rubrics of the Mass are supposed to safeguard the dignity of the celebration and to limit personal excess, they have historically not been an obstacle to considerations of practicality. Different churches have different shapes, some are large and some are small. I wonder where one would send the Subdeacon to sing the Epistle at the Crib Altar in the Grotto of Bethlehem!

One of my favourite photographs that I have on a bookcase at home is a black and white photograph of the ancient Roman church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, whose portico hosts the famous "Bocca della Verita" or Mouth of Truth. In this photo the church is unadorned except for the altar furnishings: a frontal and six typically Roman tall candlesticks (last time I went in there there were two large electric heaters kicking around the sanctuary). I've always felt that the starkness and simplicity of the church's mouldings are off-played by the wonderful patterns of the marble and the warmness of the frecoes and the intimate, embracing form of the basilican schola. The present structure might not be the original, but it is certainly based on it. The schola structure also indicates where and how the lessons and gospels would have been read. On either side of the schola there is an ambo (which means simply "high place"). The one on the North side is reserved for the Gospel, while that on the South for the Epistle and Lessons. Originally however, there was only one. We read in the Catholic Encyclopedia:

Originally there was only one ambo in a church, placed in the nave, and provided with two flights of steps; one from the east, the side towards the altar; and the other from the west. From the eastern steps the Subdeacon with his face to the altar, read the Epistles; and from the western steps the deacon, facing the people, read the Gospels. The inconvenience of having one ambo soon became manifest, and in consequence in many churches two ambones were erected. When there were two, they were usually placed one on each side of the choir, which was separated from the nave and aisles by a low wall. An excellent example of this arrangement can still be seen in the church of St. Clement at Rome. Very often the gospel ambo was provided with a permanent candlestick; the one attached to the ambo in St. Clements is a marble spiral column, richly decorated with mosaic, and terminated by a capital twelve feet from the floor.

Where there were two or more ambos, one was used only for the Gospel. The common arrangement was that of an ambo on either side of the church, between the choir and the nave, as may still be seen in many old basilicas (e.g., S. Maria in Cosmedin at Rome, etc.). In this case the ambo on the north side was reserved for the Gospel, from which the deacon faced the south, where the men stood. The north is also the right, and therefore the more honourable, side of the altar. The ambo on the south was used for the Epistle, and for other lessons if there were only two. In the case of three ambos, two were on the south, one for all other lessons, one for the Epistles. This arrangement still subsists, inasmuch as the Epistle is always read on the south side (supposing the church to be orientated). Where there was only one ambo it had two platforms, a lower one for the Epistle and other lessons, a higher one for the Gospel (Durandus, "Rationale", IV, 16). The ambo for the Epistle should still be used in the Roman Rite where the church has one; it is used regularly at Milan.

From this history then, we can see that the custom of facing the altar developed from the use of one Ambo only. When churches without ambos became more common, and the Gospel was read facing north (i.e. without turning ones back to the Altar), this action was theologised as providing a link between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist (a division which deserves another post!). However, we also see that churches made their own arrangements according to the structure of the building, and that practicality ruled in reading to the faithful. We also get a sense of the importance overall of the "High Place" in reading both the Epistle and the Gospel.

Time to share these two photos. The first is from the Alcuin Club's reconstruction of Sarum ceremonial, and shows the Subdeacon reading the Epistle from the entrance of the screen, facing the people but also positioned somewhat to the South side of the entrance. This is more or less what happens at S. Magnus, minus the screen of course.

In this second photo, from a celebration of the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite (note, not Dominican rite) in Blackfriars, Oxford. You will notice the Subdeacon reading from the "Epistle side" of the Sanctuary but facing the people, not the Altar.

One of the worst features of the Modern Roman Liturgical praxis is that it perpetuates the false division of the "Liturgy of the Word" and the "Liturgy of the Sacrament". Through what is admittedly a little bit of retrospective theologising, the link between the two "halves" of the Mass is exemplified in the Roman Rite by the reading of the Collects at the altar, the Subdeacon facing East to chant the Epistle, and the Celebrant's reading of the Epistle and Gospel there too. It is therefore imperative for someone wishing to preserve the ethos of the Roman Rite to consider this link with the Altar when deciding to break free of Roman custom in the name of practicality.

However, in both of the pictures above, we can see that both the Altar and the "Ambo" are present in the Subdeacon's position. In the first, we notice that the Subdeacon is directed to remain just outside the screen, but still on the highest step. We need only think of the what the word "altar" means those whose rites involve an Iconostasis to realise that in standing where he does, the English Use Subdeacon has not really left the "altar" at all. He is also reading from an "ambo", a "high place", being elevated by some steps from the lowest level of the church. Exactly the same is true of the Mass at Blackfriars, where the Subdeacon is standing a step or so higher than those you can see in choir, he is also in an equivalent position to the basilican ambo whilst remaining within the Sanctuary of that church as it is configured.

We can see then that there is some legtimate latitude in the position of singing the Epistle at High Mass in the Classical Roman Rite. Looking at tradition and customs from across the West, we can discern that the two principles of the Ambo and the Altar are what determine the "correct" place from which to chant the Epistle and other readings. But, there is never any point in being too prescriptive without thought of circumstance : I'd love to hear suggestions of where the Subdeacon should go to sing the Epistle in the beautiful, multi-level church of San Miniato in Florence!

The seeds of its own dissolution?

2010-06-08T14:59:00.017+01:00

I'm currently reading Fr Colin Stephenson's amusing memoir Merrily on High, a very interesting first-hand account of some of the churches I know and love in the glory days of Anglo-Catholicism. I'm only about half way through, but one thought which Fr Stephenson repeats at various junctures of his story deserves comment and interrogation.

From the beginning of his testimony, Fr Stephenson asserts that the strain of Anglo-Catholics who threw their lot in with the "Baroque Catholicism of the Continent" were really dooming themselves to failure, as the fruits of the Liturgical Movement (perceived by Fr. Colin as intrinsically a good thing) percolated into the stuffy mainstream of Western Catholicism.

At points he recalls individuals whom he accuses, and I'm sure not erroneously, of adopting Papalism or Ultramontanism as a foil for inflicting their own whims on their congregations and communities. There is one passage in the book which typifies this opinion:

"Yet for all its [Anglo-Catholicism's] triumphalism it held within it the seeds of its own dissolution which the disorganisation of the last war simply accelerated. It had become congregationalist and cut off from the main stream of the Church of England and rejoiced to have it so. It had thrown in its lot devotionally with the baroque Catholicism of the continent just when that movement was about to be discredited in the church of its origin, and looking back at it now one realises that it had about as much chance of appealing to the average Anglican as the Folies Bergeres to the Mother's Union."

There are also frequent digs at "fussiness" in the Liturgical and Devotional aspects of the movement in the 20s and 30s :

"'It's not a sermon you have [at St Bart's, Brighton] but an interval while the wind performers empty their instruments'. Some months ago I should not have thought this funny, but now I could see the point and as I was leaving he said. 'Our High Mass is always over within the hour'." p66

"I did not see him [Fr Kenrick] often after this pilgrimage, which is recorded in his memorial in Holy Trinity, Hoxton, but I did once visit him there on a Sunday and was surprised to find only a handful of people at High Mass. I was still at the stage when I honestly thought that the externals of Catholic worship were bound to attract crowds. Mature experience has taught me that they are far more likely to drive them away!" p.69

..a reflective passage towards the end of the book...

"[Mount Athos] did reveal to me very clearly the dangers of trying to shut the Church up in the past. So much of the Catholic Movement in the Church of England has been a turning backwards and a holding on to certain positions with a fanaticism bred from a sense of insecurity." p186

"... the new Roman instructions for the rites of Holy Week laid down that on Good Friday the cross, if wished, could simply be held up for people to venerate in their places. When Duncan-Jones did this twenty years earlier in Chichester Cathedral he was the laughing stock of the whole Anglo-Catholic world." p. 77

It is difficult to isolate passages of the book which articulate in full Fr. Stephenson's retrospective critique of the fussiness, extremism and punctiliousness of the Anglo-Catholicism of his youth, but I hope you get a general idea of the argument, which could be summarised as follows: Some of the more Romanised Anglo-Catholics were only attracted to the movement for its colour and exoticism and had no interest in an authentic Catholicism (strangely never fully expounded in this memoir, whereas the "externals" are). The truest Anglo-Catholicism found its expression in the Reformed religion adopted later on in the Roman Catholic Church under its greatest hero-Pope John XXIII, which became far more palatable to Anglicans in general and has proved itself over time."

This retrospective criticism of the Anglo-Catholicism is common among the generation who grew up in its Golden Era, and who subsequently had to mourn its passing, and then took charge of the the introduction of the New Catholicism into the mainstream of the CofE. It is also the heritage of that generation of priests who were taught by Fr Stephenson's generation, and who knew him at Walsingham as youngsters, the same exuberant generation of fallen Catholics at places like Staggers, before Ena the Cruel put an end to their shennanigans; a generation that simultaneously revels in the old party badges of lace, birettas, continental vestments and baroque fittings, while owing complete allegiance to the Reformed Roman Liturgy and a vague notion of Papalism. There is a dreadful schizophrenia among these two generations of Anglo-Catholic clergy. The glory days were brilliant, but there is bitterness stemming from the fact that the movement failed to deliver on its promises. They do not know how to deal with the fact that while the Liturgical Movement and its most radical reforms in some ways signalled the death of Anglo-Papalism, Anglican Ultramontanism and Romanism as lively forces in the Anglican Communion, the subsequent Reformation and Iconoclasm of Western Catholicism turned out to yield a far more importable fruit the heady ecumenical decades of the 70s and 80s, apparently giving Papalist clergy what they'd wanted all along : a vernacular Eucharistic liturgy, expressed in the ASB and CW texts.

I have two main objections to this point of view. Firstly, there is an unhealthy distinction between the "externals" of worship and the "interiority" of the faith, with the assumption that those who cherished the externals spurned the Faith itself. Secondly, the attitude that Papalism has proven to be the magic ingredient that has kept the small flame of Anglo-Catholicism alive into the present day, and that it continues to be the guiding light of the movement.

On the both points, I concede that the Romanised Anglo-Catholic dependence on Ultramontanism for its self-expression was the reason for its dramatic death in the 1960s, as the "old ways" were markedly changed (at least inasmuch as the faithful perceived this "radical" change) and old certainties were eroded. However, I would also like to suggest that the reason why some of the most "extreme" and "fussy" Romanised Anglicans enjoyed any degree of success, and I have no hang ups in including the wealthy, largely White Anglo-Saxon congregations of places like S. Magnus (it its day) along with the famous but over-fetishised Slum Parishes (like Hoxton); is not so much because they espoused extreme liturgical Romanism and Ultramontanism, but because these places offered the fullness of the Sacraments, the fullness of the Liturgy, the rootedness in something authentically ancient and identifiably so, a true living School of the Faith. The Ultramontanism of these Parishes was certainly one factor in their decline; but their subsequent side-stepping of Vatican liturgical regulation in favour of asserting their own autonomy in matters liturgical under the authority of tradition is part of the secret of their survival. I have been to English Missal Masses at Hoxton (ergo not a strict 1962 celebration!), but I know far more about S. Magnus, where after years of increasing isolation and a liturgical regime of slack modernism, the Old Rite is flourishing and managing to find its feet again. We have learnt the lesson that good liturgy needs no special dispensation from the Holy Father, to whatever degree we accept his Spiritual Jurisdiction here in our little corner of the Anglican Communion. The prospect of an Anglican Ordinariate full of Anglican clergy bowed down under Roman liturgical law and so using the modern Roman Missal and the "liturgical Bonsai" that is the 1962 rite, has brought our cherished freedom into even sharper relief, despite our perilous position in the wider Communion. These days are for us an opportunity to explore that tradition, and I personally am coming to realise that the "fussiness" denounced by the Colin Stephenson generation is actually the beginning of a spiritual revival for our little group (small, but outward looking, intimate but not exclusive), where all around us is death and division.

Moreover, I hope we can steer clear of the label "traditionalist", which is bandied around so often by Forward in Faith circles, as if we were the same movement that in the Roman church cherishes the heritage of the Liturgical Movement and its "saints" Bugnini and Pio XII, abhorrs Vatican II and exalts Papal Authority. We are rather the "orthodox", who value the genuine authority of tradition, without wanting to go around harrassing gay rights activists and abortion doctors with it.

The new generation of orthodox Anglican seminarians, as well as their established faithful, are entering an era where the issue is no longer "Women Bishops", but whether or not to take the leap into the Roman Jurisdiction. They will need to decide how to live out the faith, or to pick up Stephenson's terms, which "externals" to adopt, in this new and uncertain territory, both inside the ordinariate and outside it. Is the only future for orthodox Anglicans under Roman authority? Is the alternative to submission complete division into various laity-lite bodies calling themselves "Anglican"? Is it possible that the Ordinariate will close the book on Anglican Ultramontanism? What and who will be left behind? I wonder if we're onto an answer....

Sunday in the Octave of Corpus Christi

2010-06-07T16:31:00.006+01:00

Bewildered servers prepare for the procession of the Blessed Sacrament after Mass on the Sunday in the Octave of Corpus Christi

"beati qui ad cenam Agni vocati sunt"

2010-06-03T16:20:00.003+01:00

Following on from my last post (very Hunwickesque, if I might utter the master's name), another thought came to mind re: the Beati qui.

Only moments before the Invitation, (unless you're sitting through the Coronation Mass) the priest has said the prayer: "Unde et memores, Domine, nos servi tui, sed et plebs tua sancta, ejusdem Christi Filii tui Domini nostri tam beatae Passionis....etc"

Or in the Missale Anglicanum :

Wherefore, O Lord, we thy servants, and thy holy people also, remembering the blessed passion of the same Christ thy Son our Lord...etc

In the Eucharistic Sacrifice, tradition endows the Passion with the attribute "blessed". Now, the discussion about whether or not beati should be translated as Happy or Blessed is something I won't go into here, and you can probably guess which side I'd fall on, but there is something significant about this for the Invitation.

Christ's Passion is Blessed. Christ underwent this Passion for the redemption of the whole world. We Christians, though we are called to, and the Saints always do, pick up the Cross, it is important to bear in mind that we have not undergone the Passion of Our Lord. In human terms, it is possible to suffer physically as Christ did, but we have not redeemed ourselves; rather we have been redeemed. Is it a confusion to call ourselves "beati" at the moment before receiving the Body and Blood of Christ? Is it correct to conflate "the Supper of the Lamb" of the Apocalypse with the Banquet of the Mass? Are we not blurring the distinction, despite our Communion, between the Church Militant and the Church Triumphant? Thoughts?

Ecce qui tollit peccata mundi....

2010-06-01T22:03:00.003+01:00

Let us consider for a moment these words from the Mass. These moments between the Consecration and the Communion are filled with the recollection of Christ as the pure and spotless Lamb, and of our own petitions for mercy. The priest at High Mass makes the fraction, commixture and receives Communion before and during the singing of the Agnus Dei. Thereafter, if others are to receive Communion also, he first hears their Confiteor, absolves them and then turns to them holding a Host at eye-level and says :

Ecce Agnus Dei, Ecce qui tollit peccata mundi

Behold the Lamb of God, Behold him who says away the sins of the World.

The image provided by the liturgical action, of the Spotless Lamb on the Altar, comes from the Apocalypse, but the verbal formula used go back to the Gospels, where the Baptist bestows upon Our Lord the title "Agnus Dei", Lamb of God. At the River Jordan, he says "Ecce Agnus Dei qui tollit peccatum mundi", referring in the singular to the sin of the whole world. In the Liturgy, the response of the faithful is "Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only, and my soul shall be heald". Here, they are echoing the words of the Centurion in Matthew 8 who responds to Jesus' promise to heal with "Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed."

The Gospel texts which have been collated here do not come from one Gospel narrative, but do in fact reflect a common theme: the recognition of man's unworthiness to receive Jesus. The Baptist's words are provoked by his seeing Christ coming towards him, with the crowds of sinners, to be Baptised. These words, these striking images, preface the Baptist's discourse on his unworthiness, and on his role as praecursor. His words are motivated by faith, however, in the fact that Christ's baptism of the Spirit will be the true Baptism, and a true remission of Sins.

The centurion speaks as one who knows his unworthiness before the poor Healer from Gallilee, but also reflect his faith in the healing "word" of Jesus. The liturgical action that accompanies these immortal words skip back to another Gospel story, that of the publican in the Temple who beats his chest and proclaims his unworthiness.

What we have here then is a very small dialogue between the Priest, the People and Christ. While the Priest addresses the faithful in the person of the Praecursor ("Behold..."), the People respond to his declaration by addressing Christ in the Host directly ("Lord, ..."). We have two speech-acts, two voices, and in them, the meeting-place of two themes: unworthiness and faith. This is how tradition has determined that we dispose ourselves before receiving Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.

In the reformed rite of Paul VI, however, we find another formula inserted into this simple three-way dialogue : After Ecce Agnus dei, we have Beati qui ad cenam Agni vocati sunt, which is erroneously translated into English as "Happy are those who are called to his supper". The Latin is in more accurately "Blessed are those who are called to the Supper of the Lamb".

Now, I'm not sure how I feel about picking on specific minutiae of the reforms in order to criticise them (I often feel the principle of reform has had much more disastrous consequences than most of the details), I do think it's important to interrogate these insertions into the rite, and to ask what they mean. My specific interest is in the analogy of Liturgy with language, and so I would like to ask what is meant by these words; who is speaking them and in what voice? What is the meaning behind them, and where do they fit into the dialogue I described earlier?

Clearly this formula is not entirely inappropriate to the liturgical "Invitation to Communion" as this is often labelled in modern Missals. The cena referred to in the sentence is the "marriage feast of the Lamb" of Revelation 19.9 and certainly describes what we are partaking of. However, it must be pointed out that this leap from the Baptist's words in the Gospel to the mysterical and esoteric disrupts the Communion dialogue by bringing in another voice. Suddenly, to the voice of John the Baptist is added the voice of an Angel saying "write these words : Blessed are those....". From the awe and wonder of Christ's presence amongst men (in both the Baptist's words and those of the centurion), we are taken abruptly to the celestial realm, and asked to ponder not the Human Face of our God, but the mystical wedding feast of the Lamb and His reign in Heaven. The addition of this formula to the Mass is consonant with a general de-emphasis of the Mass as Sacrifice in preference of the Mass as Supper and of course, the Mass is both. However, it does seem to me at least that the insertion of the "Beati qui..." into the Mass is at least a little jarring. The Post-Communion collects of the classical Roman Rite, to my mind, do quite enough to emphasise the Mass as meal "these gifts which we have received..." etc. I would also point out that where the voice of Angels is most prominently echoed, in the Sanctus, the words are padded out with plenty of non-scriptural language, and the Sanctus has an "organising" role in the flow of the liturgy that is quite unique.

In any case, I'd be very interested to hear what other people think about the New Rite Invitation to Communion, and whether the "Beati qui..." is an appropriate interpolation.....

End of Our Lady's month of May

2010-05-31T12:13:00.005+01:00

Today many Catholic Anglicans will be risking their linen suits on the National Pilgrimage to Walsingham. I really wish that I could go at least once in life, if only for the pilgrimage Mass on the site of the old Abbey. One year.

Well, I thought I would share with readers how I'm marking the last day of Mary's month of May. The picture above is of my home altar. This is not an altar, as people sometimes imagine from the name, where Mass can be said. Rather a "home altar" is a wonderful Catholic tradition which creates a focus of prayer and reflection within the home; a place where one can express personal and religious creativity. It is an altar in the sense that the experience of the Sacred goes in both directions. On the one hand it is a "dwelling place" of Holiness, where God's glory is told in images of His Saints and in the Crucifix. On the other hand, it is the place where "sacrifices" of prayer are made, represented by material offerings of flowers, oil lamps, candles and incense.

My home altar started life as a St. Joseph's altar to celebrate my name day, but it has survived through year and has been reconfigured monthly. The altar is three-tiered to represent the Holy Trinity and the Holy Family. The principal image of the month is displayed on the top tier, this month is it Our Lady of Candelaria. In front of Her on the tier below are three small oil lamps, two of which burn for specific intentions, the central one is kept lit whenever I am at home. Beside the lamps are two metallic icons from the Holy Land reflecting the principal patronage of Our Lady and S. George, and which remind me to pray for peace in the Middle East. The tier below features images of my other patrons, S. Joseph, S. Gerard, S. Magnus, each one reminding me to pray for specific intentions, for my parish and for pregnant women or new mothers. The right hand corner of this tier is dedicated to prayer for the dead, and besides a picture of a deceased relative, normally features a book of prayers for the Suffering Souls. The left hand side of this tier reminds me of spiritual discipline. It is where I keep my rosary (from the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham) and recently features an image of whichever Saint I am remembering who isn't the principle Saint of the month. In this case I'm remembering to thank Venerable Jose Gregorio Hernandez (a Venezuelan doctor who died in 1919 and was beatified in 1949), for prayers for recovery from a recent illness.

Anyway, I hope my little home altar encourages other people to take up the tradition. For some tips and more information check out this article on the Domestic Church, which gives some good background and ideas for bringing holiness into the home.

I love Our Sovereign Lady......

2010-05-25T22:35:00.000+01:00

* EVENT: Corpus Christi @ S. Magnus UPDATED*

2010-05-25T17:47:00.005+01:00

Well it certainly has been a while since I've logged into the old Ex Fide. With profuse apologies I must explain myself: I've taken on a new job which leaves far less time to plan and write blog posts. I'm also reluctant to spend my evenings and weekends waiting for blogger to load my photos up.

Anyway, I have the great joy of announcing an upcoming event at S. Magnus (we've been having many recently, and wonderful they've been). This year we are keeping the Feast of Corpus Christi "on the day" as it were, and celebrating it with High Mass and Procession of the Most Blessed Sacrament at 6.30pm on June 3rd. I understand that this might clash with other regular Corpus Christi celebrations, perhaps your parish church, or some shrine that you visit regularly. However, I must urge you to consider S. Magnus this year. In the past (especially due to our location in the city) we have not always been able to summon servers and faithful on a weekday evening. However, as a confident, growing congregation, we now have the resources to offer the rites of the Feast on the Thursday. We're hoping for brilliant weather as we walk with Our Lord through the historic streets of the City, and we cordially invite you to join us in our celebrations.

THE FEAST OF CORPUS CHRISTI

THURSDAY JUNE 3RD 2010

HIGH MASS AND PROCESSION OF THE M. Bl. Sacrament

6.30pm

*Petite Messe Solenelle by Bordese & motets by Lorenzo Perosi*

Preacher: The Rev. Andrew Zihni,
Minor Canon of S. George's, Windsor

The Church of S. Magnus the Martyr,
Lower Thames St.
London

Nearest tube stations: Monument/Bank, London Bridge
http://www.stmagnusmartyr.org.uk/

Good Friday in the Older Rite at S. Magnus

2010-04-03T09:16:00.011+01:00

The ministers enter the Sanctuary, genuflect and prostrate. Two Acolytes spread an altar cloth on the bare altar and place the missal at the Epistle corner. In the photo above, the Celebrant looks over the reading that is being read by a lector.

After a collect, the Subdeacon chants a reading from Exodus as an Epistle.

The Celebrant sings Christus during the Passion

After the Passion and Gospel, the ministers go to the Altar for the Litanical, or bidding prayers. The intention is introduced by the Celebrant, and the Deacon sings "Let us bend the knee".

After a time kneeling, the Subdeacon sings "Arise" and the Celebrant sings the Collect.

During the Collect for the Conversion of the Jews, an acolyte spreads the carpet and cushion in preparation for the Worship of the Cross.

The Deacon goes to collect the veiled cross from the Altar and brings it to the Celebrant at the Epistle corner.

The Celebrant reveals the right arm of the crufied, and sings "Behold the wood of the cross, whereon the world's salvation was hung", all reply "O come let us worship" and kneel in adoration.

The Celebrant climbs a step, and repeats the above revealing the title board. Finally, he removes the veil entirely before the High Altar. He then places the Cross on a purple cushion (to symbolise Christ's regality) topped with a white veil (to represent His innocence, and His burial shroud) to venerate It.

After this, the Subdeacon and Deacon venerate the cross.

The other ministers come thereafter to venerate, making three double genuflections with prostration as they go. This is what our ancestors in England called "creeping to the Cross".

A relic of the True Cross is prepared also for public veneration.

The relic is venerated by the faithful.

The choir sing the reproaches, recited quietly at the bench.

The Deacon places the Cross on the High Altar

A procession is made to the Altar of Repose, and the Celebrant assumes a white humeral veil.

The procession of the Sacrament back from the altar is the first part of the Mass of the Pre-sanctified.

Here, the celebrant is seen censing the Elements. He has prepared a chalice of unconsecrated wine which also stands on the corporal. The Eucharist is censed, as is the altar but the Celebrant is not. He then says the Pray Brethren, not turning all the way, sings the Libera nos, performs the fraction and with some Communion devotions, receives the Host consecrated at Yesterday's Mass.

In deference to Local Custom, the faithful also receive Communion from a number of Hosts reserved with the Priest's Host.

There being no other ceremonies, the ministers stand to sing "When I survey the wondrous Cross" before retiring to the Sacristy.

The ministers in the Sanctuary after the Liturgy

Holy Thursday

2010-04-02T23:14:00.003+01:00

April, the Month of the Blessed Sacrament

2010-03-31T23:54:00.005+01:00

How appropriate that today, the first day of April, is both the first day of the month of the Blessed Sacrament, and the day of the Lord's Supper, when this Sacrament was instituted: God is clearly a liturgist. As many will know, Catholic piety assigns various devotions to specific months. Originally, certain devotions were given generous indulgences should they be made within a certain time, and gradually every month gained a devotional title to focus the piety of the faithful when no liturgical feast is being celebrated :

January: The Holy Name and Childhood of Jesus
February: The Holy Family
March: St. Joseph
April: The Blessed Sacrament
May: The Blessed Virgin Mary
June: Sacred Heart of Jesus
July: The Precious Blood
August: Immaculate Heart of Mary
September: Seven Dolours (Sorrows) of Mary
October: The Holy Rosary (and, less formally, the Holy Angels)
November: Poor Souls in Purgatory
December: The Immaculate Conception

Indeed, the twelve month cycle of non-liturgical devotion provides another set of squares in the rubiks-cube of the Christian year, which consists of a "dominical" cycle celebrating those movable feasts of the Passion, Resurrection and of Pentecost etc and the "sanctoral" cycle, which celebrates the Saints on fixed calender dates. Last week we saw how these two primary cycles can interact, when the Feast of the Annunciation, which is fixed on March 25th fell a day before the Feast of the Seven Sorrows, which is pegged to the Friday before Palm Sunday in the dominical cycle.

The devotional cycle adds another layer to the Christian year, and can bring us into a closer, more intense experience of the other, liturgical cycles. The devotional cycle demands of us personal, non-liturgical prayer, while the other cycles are about public, liturgical celebration or commemoration. The two are quite distinct, but at times their meeting can be a fruitful encounter for the soul. One common practice that was criticised in the early twentieth century was praying the Rosary during Holy Mass, and rightly so. In this case, there is no connection between what is happening at the altar and what is happening in the pew; there is no participio actuosa or "actual participation", as there was always meant to be, as the faithful "assisted" at the Sacrifice by praying it with their hearts and minds.

But where there is a connection, the public and private can fructify each other. From tomorrow, our private devotions will focus on the Eucharist, and our public devotion will be a re-enactment of the Passion of Our Lord, starting in the Upper Room and the Garden. As we enter into this Paschal mystery with devotion to the Eucharist on our hearts, we are able to seek in the Eucharist a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Passion, and vice-versa. As we make our preparation for our Paschal Communion, with that "sister Sacrament" of Holy Communion, Confession, we begin to grasp in our hearts the meaning of what's going around us in Church over the Paschal Triduum, and when we receive that Communion, which the Church advises we do, we truly become a people reborn.

The Seven Sorrows and Joys of S. Joseph

2010-03-30T08:36:00.004+01:00

March is not over yet, and I haven't forgotten S. Joseph. One of the classic devotions to S. Joseph is that of his Seven Sorrows which also have seven corresponding Joys. Often they are prayed together on a Special Chaplet for this devotion which has seven large beads each followed by three Smaller ones. A meditation on the Joy and/or Sorrow is made on the large bead, and then followed by Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory be on the small beads. I'm trying to work out how to pray them on my new Servite Rosary of the Seven Sorrows of Mary but I'm not sure how. Ah, so many beads. Anyway, this is the devotion as described by CatholicCulture.org.

Two Fathers of the Franciscan order were sailing along the coast of Flanders, when a terrible tempest arose, which sank the vessel, with its three hundred passengers. The two Fathers had sufficient presence of mind to seize hold of a plank, upon which they were tossed to and fro upon the waves, for three days and nights. In their danger and affliction, their whole recourse was to St. Joseph, begging his assistance in their sad condition. The Saint, thus invoked, appeared in the habit of a young man of beautiful features, encouraged them to confide in his assistance, and, as their pilot, conducted them into a safe harbor. They, desirous to know who their benefactor was asked his name, that they might gratefully acknowledge so great a blessing and favor. He told them he was St. Joseph, and advised them daily to recite the Our Father and Hail Mary seven times, in memory of his seven dolors or griefs, and of his seven joys, and then disappeared.

(Recite one Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be after each number)

1. St. JOSEPH, Chaste Spouse of the Holy Mother of God, by the SORROW with which thy heart was pierced at the thought of a cruel separation from Mary, and by the deep JOY that thou didst feel when the angel revealed to thee the ineffable mystery of the Incarnation, obtain for us from Jesus and Mary, the grace of surmounting all anxiety. Win for us from the Adorable Heart of Jesus the unspeakable peace of which He is the Eternal Source.

2. St. JOSEPH, Foster-Father of Jesus, by the bitter SORROW which thy heart experienced in seeing the Child Jesus lying in a manger, and by the JOY which thou didst feel in seeing the Wise men recognize and adore Him as their God, obtain by thy prayers that our heart, purified by thy protection, may become a living crib, where the Savior of the world may receive and bless our homage.

3. St. JOSEPH, by the SORROW with which thy heart was pierced at the sight of the Blood which flowed from the Infant Jesus in the Circumcision, and by the JOY that inundated thy soul at thy privilege of imposing the sacred and mysterious Name of Jesus, obtain for us that the merits of this Precious Blood may be applied to our souls, and that the Divine Name of Jesus may be engraved forever in our hearts.

4. St. JOSEPH, by the SORROW when the Lord declared that the soul of Mary would be pierced with a sword of sorrow, and by thy JOY when holy Simeon added that the Divine Infant was to be the resurrection of many, obtain for us the grace to have compassion on the sorrows of Mary, and share in the salvation which Jesus brought to the earth.

5. St. JOSEPH, by thy SORROW when told to fly into Egypt, and by thy JOY in seeing the idols overthrown at the arrival of the living God, grant that no idol of earthly affection may any longer occupy our hearts, but being like thee entirely devoted to the service of Jesus and Mary, we may live and happily die for them alone.

6. St. JOSEPH, by the SORROW of thy heart caused by the fear of the tyrant Archelaus and by the JOY in sharing the company of Jesus and Mary at Nazareth, obtain for us, that disengaged from all fear, we may enjoy the peace of a good conscience and may live in security, in union with Jesus and Mary, experiencing the effect of thy salutary assistance at the hour of our death.

7. St. JOSEPH, by the bitter SORROW with which the loss of the Child Jesus crushed thy heart, and by the holy JOY which inundated thy soul in recovering thy Treasure on entering the Temple, we supplicate thee not to permit us to lose our Saviour Jesus by sin. Yet, should this misfortune befall us, grant that we may share thy eagerness in seeking Him, and obtain for us the grace to find Him again, ready to show us His great mercy, especially at the hour of death; so that we may pass from this life to enjoy His presence in heaven, there to sing with thee His divine mercies forever.

Let Us Pray

O God, Who in Thine ineffable Providence has vouchsafed to choose Blessed Joseph to be the Spouse of Thy most holy Mother; grant, we beseech Thee, that we may deserve to have him for our intercessor in heaven whom on earth we venerate as our holy protector: Who lives and reigns forever and ever. Amen.

Exclusive Preview of Black Folded Chasubles

2010-03-29T23:22:00.008+01:00

It is my pleasure to present the new set of Black folded chasubles for Good Friday made by Nick Sargent at S. Magnus the Martyr for this Holy Week. As you can see in the above photograph, we had decided to go for the Spanish cut of chasuble, and to fold them at the breast as one would a Roman chasuble. These are certainly the only Spanish-cut folded chasubles I have ever seen, most certainly unique in London and possibly in the UK.

This shot from the back shows the exquisite shape from the back, plus the effect given by the uniform single orphrey at the back. The contrast between the fine pattern of flowers on the chasuble fabric and the large, round cross-based motif is very pleasing. But these are not fussy vestments that distract the eye. Rather, they beautify the liturgy and contribute to a sense of solemnity which is entirely appropriate to Good Friday.

The orphrey fabric came from Damascus, from a supplier on Straight Street which has long had a friendly relationship with S. Magnus. Our purple High Mass set with dalmatics also features fabric from this shop. The orphrey pattern for this set features an anchor amidst circular crosses, a sign of hope for those who chose to discern it in the Passion which these vestments recall.

Here I am posing as a Deacon, although I think I can get away with it since it's just a photo-op. The broad stole features a band of the same purple as used on the maniples. The broad stole is also designed to cross over at the bottom to form the sort of "fish-tail" effect seen in other examples of the broad stole.

Palm Sunday in the pre-Pian rite

2010-03-29T12:38:00.018+01:00

With no disrepect intended to the Venerable Pius XII, the Holy Week reforms that became effective during his pontificate truly make a dog's breakfast of the most important week in the liturgical year. I didn't quite realise how true that was until yesterday, when I assisted at a pre-Pian Palm Sunday for the first time, and realised why so many choose to cleave to this excellent tradition of liturgy. Not everyone will be familiar with the old-Old Rite rites, so I will try to describe the photos I have shared.

The blessing of the palms takes place within a ceremony that has the form of a little Mass, with its own Liturgy of the Word, Collects, Preface, Sanctus, and "Canon" of Blessing. This imitation-Mass clearly links the entrance to Jerusalem with the Passion that follows (in the Mass of the day). The vestments worn are folded chasubles for the Deacon and Subdeacon, and a cope for the Celebrant. The blessing and Mass both use purple, unlike the reformed rite instituted by Pius XII, and God only knows what happens in the Modern Roman Rite! In this picture the ministers arrive at the altar and move to the Epistle side.

Hosannah, Son of David is the Antiphon that corresponds to the Introit of a Mass, and at Oremus of the Collect, the Subdeacon goes to his place and removes his folded chasuble, before going to sing the Lesson from Exodus at the appointed place.

There is also a Gospel proper to the blessing, which recounts the entrance of Christ to the city. For this, the Deacon wears his broad stole as he would at Mass. The Celebrant is listening from the Epistle side, because the Missal has not been moved from the place of the Palms.

The Celebrant kisses the book and is censed as at Mass.

A preface follows, then a "canon" of five blessing prayers is said over branches of Olive and Palm.

The branches are lustrated and censed.

An assistant priest hands a palm to the Celebrant, and the ministers receive theirs kneeling.

Palms are then distributed to the faithful

The procession forms and leaves the church

The Subdeacon carries the veiled cross

When the procession arrives back at the church, two cantors remain inside and shut the doors. From inside they sing "all honour, laud and glory" which is repeated by those outside. After this dialogue, the Subdeacon strikes the door of the church thrice with the foot of the cross....

And the procession enters the church to the chanting of another Antiphon Ingredientem. As a side-bar, the piety of the women who chose to wear a Mantilla or a hat on this day is to be praised.

Mass proceeds as normal with the rules for Passiontide, except for the Chanting of the Passion, after which the end of the Passion is chanted as a normal Gospel, with incense (and acolytes but no lights) thereafter. Unfortunately I couldn't load the picture of the Celebrant, chanting the Passion as Christus at the Gospel side, while the narrator Chanted from the lectern.

This liturgy affected me in ways I didn't know it would. The sense of event which followed the first collect and reading, so familiar yet so different really caught my imagination. The silent, pregnant pause between the end of the Passion sung but the narrator, and the bit sung as the Gospel was truly dramatic and affecting. I have read that this climatic moment represents the desolation of the Church at the events described in the Passion. Even the slight pause that I made to genuflect while singing "and at the name of Christ...every knee shall bend" in the Epistle seemed appropriate, all leading up to the Great Event of the Eucharistic Sacrifice. I have rarely felt so free to engage with the Sacrifice as I did yesterday having heard the Passion sung. Hopefully I'll have time to post photos from the Triduum later this week. Stand by for a preview of our Good Friday vestments.

The Annunciation

2010-03-25T15:18:00.001Z

There must be something wrong with me; I just haven’t managed today to feel very spiritual about the Annunciation. Compared to the effort I put into the celebration of my Name Day last week, I feel like my efforts today have been entirely feeble. To be fair, it is my penultimate day in my current job, and so I’m mostly tying up loose ends in the office and saying goodbye to colleagues. The thought of serving as Subdeacon on Palm Sunday (and having two epistles to chant!) is playing on my mind, as I must remember to revise the rubrics for that day. Holy Week and the desperate need for some quiet time before the Sacred Triduum is similarly looming over my waking hours and stressing me out mildly. I woke up this morning, said my prayers and my novena devotions to S. Rita of Cascia for my grandmother’s health (!), but despite the short time I’ve offered to God in prayer today; I feel that between myself and the mystery of the Incarnation is an unfathomable spiritual distance that frustrates me and leaves me feeling, well, disappointed.

I don’t know what I should do, but I have a good idea of what I’m going to do. Before or after Mass today, I will try to spend some time in quiet prayer before the Blessed Sacrament and I will try to pray the Joyful Mysteries of the Holy Rosary, because that is where we are promised a way into the boundless mystery of the Incarnation which we celebrate today. The Eucharist is that sacred rite in which the entire redemptive act, which begins to play out at the Annunciation, is made present to us. The Mass brings together every line of the story, from Annunciation to Presentation, to Passion to Crucifixion to Resurrection, bringing the bookends of the narrative together and fusing these moments into one. In the shadow of these other events, especially of the Passion and Death of Christ, the Annunciation begins to round-out, and we see it for what it is, a Holy Mystery, as unfathomable as all the others, but comforting, meaningful; the manifestation of a Love that knows no bounds. We see Mary’s fiat, in which the exuberance of love for God that she had been storing up in her Immaculate Heart, suddenly overflows, only to be replaced by the bitter grain of Simeon’s prophecy, and ultimately the sword that pierced that same innocent heart at the sight of her Son and Lord crucified.

Our comfort and our joy, on the feast of the Annunciation, is to participate in that bitter-sweet sacrifice of Mary’s “yes” by receiving Jesus into our souls in Holy Communion, and nurturing Him there as Mary did in her womb. Mary’s sacrifice is joined to Christ’s, as it is so often said; one could not happen without the other. No matter how lazy or unmoved I feel today, I know that in the Blessed Sacrament I will receive the grace to dive into that Mystery and dwell there for as much as my soul can bear, and that I will be sharing in Mary’s sacrifice, which begins today with her joy at the Annunciation, and is completed tomorrow when her Heart is pierced by the last of her Seven Sorrows.

For readers in London, there will be a Low Mass with Cantor at S. Magnus the Martyr at 6pm. You will be very welcome to join us there.

Passiontide

2010-03-22T11:19:00.003Z

Passiontide veiling in the church of Ss. Trinita, Rome, from the New Liturgical Movement

For a long time I didn’t actually know why we veiled images in the church during this portion of Lent we call Passiontide. I thought it was probably the beginning of that process of stripping away adornments and creating an impression of shocking starkness in the space where heaven meets earth, a process which reaches its zenith on Good Friday, when we see the altar bare and unadorned, suddenly so much like a sepulchre, or the empty hill upon which the Cross will soon be raised.

This Sunday however, in looking over the readings of Mass in the Roman tradition, I read that the meaning behind this custom of veiling is found in the Gospel reading. After answering to the accusations of blasphemy made by the Jews, and in the midst of an attempted stoning, Our Lord does something simple and almost obvious but redolent with importance. “Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple”. Our Lord, the King of Heaven, went away and hid himself to those around him.

In S. Magnus on Sunday, we heard a different reading from the Gospel, the story of the woman taken into sin who was to be stoned. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone” says Our Lord, calling those around Him to self-examination, and the realisation of their own hypocrisy. All they can do, on reflecting momentarily on the enormity of their own sins, is walk away. In this story too, we find Jesus hidden. In the middle of this episode, in which He teaches us so much with so few words, He is still mysteriously writing in the dust, tracing words which are hidden to the Gospel-writer and the crowd, and hidden to us.

We know that before the agony of His Passion, which started with the first realisation of what was to come, Jesus went away to fast and to pray. When we in Lent prepare ourselves by prayer and fasting, we are sharing in Our Lord’s own preparation, and in Passiontide we do so more by following Christ into our own hiding place. Under the purple veil of penance, we are taken into a face-to-face encounter with ourselves, and an intensive process of self-examination begins. The Prince of Glory on the crucifix is hidden to us, as also is the glory of heaven, represented by His saints. Now we are being called into a time of hiding with ourselves, a time of honest self-encounter, of penance and decision. In Passiontide we veil ourselves and hide ourselves away to be transformed by prayer, and to be like the One who came to save us.

Happy Feast of S. Joseph

2010-03-18T23:11:00.003Z

Since first Vespers have been said already, it's time to wish everybody a Happy Feast of S. Joseph. May the Foster-father of Christ, the Terror of Daemons, be your protection. May the Light of Patriarchs bring to you the light of Holy Wisdom, and may the most chaste spouse of the Blessed and Glorious Ever-virgin Mary be your intercessor in heaven before the throne of the Almighty.

Ite ad Joseph! Go to Joseph, because he is always awaiting your prayers and petitions. Just as Christ never failed in obeying his earthly father, so in heaven too he cannot but grant the requests made by Joseph on your behalf.

Sancte Joseph, Ora Pro Nobis!

Mass of S. Joseph

2010-03-17T14:41:00.003Z

...I do, however, have the pleasure to announce a Mass of the Solemnity of S. Joseph at S. Magnus, for those who cannot attend Mass on the feast day itself on :

THURSDAY 18TH MARCH

6.15 pm

S. Magnus the Martyr, Lower Thames Street, London EC3R 6DN

(This Mass will be celebrated according to the Older Rite of the English Missal)