The Antidoron, the Pain Benit and the Sunday Loaf

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.

The Monarchy

I always seem to be shooting my mouth off about something or other these days; Anglican Controversial. Well I just read something very interesting the news. A Labour candidate has apologised after calling Queen Elizabeth II “vermin” and “a parasite”. It’s very fun and lefty, undergraduate PPS etc to be either virulently anti-Monarchist or to talk affectionately but patronisingly about the British monarch. The arguments against maintaining our monarchy normally centre on their finances, and the details of their “cost” to the nation. They often also moan about the sexist system of succession, and the fact that the monarchy is hereditary, not meritocratic.

Against those charges, backed up with facts and figures and the constant demands on public finances, the arguments in favour of the monarchy often fall down, because they centre on the unquantifiable: the sense of continuity the monarchy offers, the tourist draw. Things that are almost impossible to express with statistics, but which nonetheless, parts of society maintain are important for our national life.

It is precisely this unquantifiable benefit of the monarchy that interests me, partly because it reminds me of the situation in the church. Those who support the monarchy would openly concede that the Queen’s role is almost entirely ceremonial, but they would also argue that this is ceremonial is an integral part of our nation. It’s what makes Britain what is really is. To me, the monarchy is about maintaining a particular historical discourse of statehood which is the authentic expression of the historical, national and cultural character of the United Kingdom. Britain is not a republic, and the day that we start swearing-in a President on the fume-choked lawns outside the Houses of Parliament with music by a veteran soul singer is the day we stop being British. By contrast, Venezuela is a Republic founded by “the Liberator” Simon Bolivar, and as such, the ceremonial life of the Republic revolves around the struggle against the Spanish and the symbolism of Bolivar’s public persona. They celebrate the victory of the Battle of Carabobo, not Waterloo, and when their leaders wander around in tri-colour sashes in military parades, they are continuing the authentic ceremonial of statehood appropriate to a young nation, forged during the high-tide of Republicanism by a military figure. If president Chavez were to declare himself Emperor of Greater Bolivaria (something he would probably quite like to do), he would be rupturing the ties of continuity with how a nation, and those who feel they belong to it, perceive themselves, and have continued to perceive themselves throughout history. He would be doing something inauthentic and inappropriate to Venezuela as she is, and has been for two hundred years.

All of this reminds me of those in the church who do not recognise the value of ceremonial and ritual, the ephemeral and unquantifiably beneficial aspects of the visible life of the church. There is such an urge to re-form, to re-shape the church in a way which is subjectively deemed more appropriate, and this tendency reached a tragic zenith in the Reformation. Even now we have a Bishop in Peterborough who has written that the Eucharistic services of the church should not be treated any differently from Mattins and Evensong, and as such could be “presided over” by laypeople. Orthodox Anglicanism, which teaches the Real Presence and the role of the Sacraments in Salvation, is viewed as too “superstitious” by such extremists and must be brought up to date. I don’t believe this teaching has any place in the Church of England, when it owes no loyalty whatsoever to the Church of S. Augustine, and defiles the precious continuity which the Church of England has claimed with the pre-Reformation church.

The word “heresy” comes from the Greek word that describes a “choice” of beliefs particular to a faction opposed to Orthodoxy, and it has been used over the centuries to refer to those who have willingly cut themselves off from the family of the faithful. Whether it’s the Sacraments or the Monarchy, we would be making a huge mistake if we gave ourselves over to the “heresy” of innovation. Those who love the Church, love Her Sacraments, the “mysteries of Salvation” which we can’t quantify or put into statistics to justify their role in our lives. Likewise, those who love Britain should think twice before resigning the monarchy to history. Let us not forget what the monarchy means, and has meant to generations, and reflecting on the prospects of Britain in the coming years, we might realise that we need Queen Elizabeth now as much as we ever did.

The story we tell...

…is that on the Sunday of his elevation to the See of Canterbury, on the Sunday after Pentecost of 1162, S. Thomas Beckett determined that this Sunday should from henceforth be dedicated to the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. Offices and Masses of the Holy Trinity had already existed for centuries, but Pope Alexander II had refused to institute a feast of the Holy Trinity on the grounds that every single day was dedicated to the Trinity, whenever the doxology Gloria patri… was pronounced. Many years after S. Thomas, Pope John XXII finally confirmed the dedication of this Sunday as a distinct feast, as its celebration had spread from Canterbury to the rest of Western Christendom. In a sense, Trinity Sunday was the gift of Canterbury to the rest of Europe, a day set aside to consider that God, in His infinite charity and wisdom, has chosen to reveal Himself to us in three Persons.

On Trinity Sunday yesterday, results of the European Parliamentary elections were broadcast, and it emerged that our gift to Europe this time round, is to elect two MEPs from the far-right, racist British National Party. In the midst of a general movement to punish the Labour party, a significant portion of the rejectionist vote went to a party that is not only opposed to the European project, but is virulently against the values of openness, inclusivity and social equality that we Britons idly like to claim as our own. At the risk of sounding as if I’m politicking excessively, I have to make the point that the BNP offers no coherent, realistic way forward for Britain’s economic problems, or the reform of parliamentary democracy. The party manifesto is rather more focused on issues of race and ethnicity, claiming that native Britons are discriminated against in favour of immigrants, and advocate voluntary repatriation of non-Caucasians; as far as we Christians are concerned, destroying families, coherent communities and kicking the sojourner out of our midst!

But it would be pointless to dwell in despondency, or to make mildly shocking pronouncements against universal franchise. We shouldn’t be surprised that the regions of the UK that voted for the BNP are facing increasingly isolation from the economic and political life of this country. Anyone living in the North of England, especially outside of the major cities, must feel as if they are frequently overlooked by investors, and that they have dropped off the map as far as government initiatives in education and culture are concerned. The long demise of the North is nothing new, and the transformation of former industrial centres into university towns has not brought significant benefits to the local population. In fact, under the new regime of granting almost anyone the right to award a degree and filling new, inferior universities with high fee-paying foreign students is surely only going to exacerbate the anxieties of the white working class that the BNP claims to represent.

What are they offering that’s so good? Well, in this climate of mistrust in political life, fear is the greatest currency and the more of it you can provide - the more access you can get to an individual’s deepest anxieties - the better. It would sound extravagant to say that BNP voters were in the grip of the devil, but this is what Satan is; the creeping fear and despair that work against God’s freely given gifts of faith and hope. Fear is what imprisons us; it’s what turns us away from God, and away from our neighbour. Fear is the enemy of truth.

I’m not about to launch a massive Europe-wide evangelisation programme, much as I’d love to! However, I do think a bit of practical, day-to-day evangelism is demanded of us by the Gospel. If we can be a people who stand for the truth, if our word can be trusted and if our worship of the Triune God is seen as worship that dispels fear, then we have taken the first step. Passing this on to others in our household, town, city, nation or continent allows us to take the second. Fides, spes et caritas…Faith, Hope and Charity are the virtues that we proclaim, and blasphemy, despair and hatred are the sins against them. We really need to be tireless in proclaiming these virtues, in living them and in teaching them, and zealous in fighting whatever opposes them. They are only the seed of our future, but without them, everything else is groundless. Let them be the guiding principles of our political system, let them play a part in addressing the problems of those victims of despair, let them be the beginning of boundless grace and our endless freedom in God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.