Pentecost Vigil III - Photos!

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

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

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!

The seeds of its own dissolution?

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....

"beati qui ad cenam Agni vocati sunt"

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....

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.....

Palm Sunday in the pre-Pian rite

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 Language of the Liturgy : Candlemas

The often disregarded reforms in the Roman liturgy which took place before the Second Vatican Council and the new Missal of Paul VI were largely kind to the Feast of the Purification, but the changes which were introduced were not insignificant in their ramifications. Regional variations of the Roman rite are often referred to as “dialects” of the same “language”, and in my own view, one fruitful way in which to approach the Liturgy is by analogy to language. Like any spoken language, the Roman rite employs a rich vocabulary, some of which will have “cognates” in other rites, some of which will be unique. The beauty of the eloquent use of a natural language is often associated with its ability to evoke other speech acts, words or expression over time and between places, the inter-dependence of different instances of language from which it derives its complexity and its refinement. The same is true of the liturgy.

The reforms of the Roman liturgy during the 20th century, then, can be seen as a sort of editing process. The kindest, most elegant type of liturgical reform throughout history has been termed “organic”, just like the “organic” development of languages. This type of reform isn’t really reform at all, but more properly the “form” of something that is by definition able to adapt and change from within, without need of poking or pruning from outside. The reforms of the 20th century have largely been of of a much more severe type; an extreme editing process that disrupts the meaning of something and alters it almost beyond recognition. A useful analogy would be to imagine the process of editing Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream…” speech. Imagine if the editor decided that the repetition of the phrase “I have a dream” was unnecessary and probably bored the people listening to it. With keenness, he preserves the phrase “the sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent” but dispenses with all phrases that start with “I have a dream” or else takes parts of them and moves them to the beginning of the speech. Imagine if this new, edited form of the speech became the official version to be taught in school and reproduced in encyclopaedias, such that the old form only existed in original recordings closely guarded by collectors. What remains is still wonderful oratory, but is it the same, full-blooded speech which planted itself in the hearts of a nation, and set them on fire with a yearning for justice?

The ceremony of the Blessing of Candles and Procession before Mass on the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary is for many one of the highlights of the liturgical year. The Nunc Dimittis with its antiphon “A light to lighten the Gentiles…” forms the liturgical backbone of this rite, and the theme of Simeon’s acclamation in the temple on seeing the Christ child runs through all the collects which traditionally accompany the blessing of the candles. The distribution of candles to the faithful has a symbolism which is both obvious and powerful, readily understood but replete with meanings which unfold in the prayerful heart of the believer. The form of ceremony that survived into the late fifties also possessed certain meanings, explicit and implicit, which were lost in the reformed rite. A brief comparison follows :

For a High Mass of the Feast of the Purification, the colour of the blessing and procession is violet and the Mass is sung in white. The meanings of the colour violet in the Roman rite are many and varied, but include such things as “not-yet-redeemed” or “awaiting the Messiah” (Advent and Lent, or indeed the Votive Mass pro pace). The colour takes us back to the time before the work of Calvary is complete, and the alternation between violet and white in the liturgical year reflects the gradual revelation of Christ to the world, the story of which is told in the Gospels from Advent to Easter. Before the ceremonies begin, the Altar is veiled in violet and unornamented. The pieces of liturgical furniture, the credence, the Mass vestments on the sedilia and even the candles to be blessed are all hidden under violet veilings. The sacred ministers enter, the celebrant in cope and the deacon and subdeacon in their violet folded chasubles. The origin of the folded chasuble, as has been discussed elsewhere, is obscure, but evidence points to the custom of deacons and subdeacons adopting the chasuble (and folding it up) for penitential processions, which is why they continue to be worn on ember days of Lent and Advent, and for the procession on Candlemas. The Celebrant kisses the Altar (but the other ministers don’t genuflect when he does so) and then the three line up at the Epistle Side for the blessing of the candles. The five prayers of the blessing speak of the light of Christ and the petition of Simeon, but mention also the work of bees and the pure oil burnt in the tabernacle. The candles are censed and lustrated, while the celebrant says the antiphon Asperges Me (without the psalm). The content of the prayers moves from an emphasis on Christ as light to the collective and the external (Israel, Gentiles, people, arms of Simeom) to the light and purification of the individual and his soul (“may not be wanting to our souls”, “purge me”). The Candles are distributed while the Nunc Dimittis is sung. There is a final collect which underlines the work of Christ on the soul through outward devotion (a good précis of the five blessing prayers), before which (if it be not a Sunday and after Septuagesima) the Deacon and Subdeacon sing Flectamus genua and Levate respectively. These instructions from the sacred ministers to kneel in prayer and arise before the collect is sung also feature in the liturgy of Good Friday and on the Ember Days. The procession is then made, with the Subdeacon as cross-bearer and the Antiphon “Adorna thalamum tuum, Sion” by S. John of Damascus is sung, incidentally one of the few borrowings of text and music by the Roman Church from the Greeks. At the entrance to the church, or return to the sanctuary if the procession has not left the church, a responsary is sung V. They offered for him unto the Lord a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons. As it is written in the law of the Lord R. When the days of Mary’s purification according to the law of Moses were accomplished, they brought Jesus to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord. As it is written in the law of the Lord. As the Catholic encyclopaedia notes :

“The solemn procession represents the entry of Christ, who is the Light of the World, into the Temple of Jerusalem. It forms an essential part of the liturgical services of the day, and must be held in every parochial church where the required ministers can be had. The procession is always kept on 2 February even when the office and Mass of the feast is transferred to 3 February.”

Indeed, owing to the presence of the processional cross as a symbol of Christ, this act of entrance is the ritual re-enactment of the presentation itself, and as such forms the climax of this ceremony. During the procession, the Altar has been unveiled to reveal a white frontal, ready to greet the Lord. Without further ceremony, the Mass proceeds. The ministers assume white Mass vestments (the tunicle and dalmatic underlining the move into new light and joy) and the prayers at the foot of the altar are said. The Candles of the faithful are to be lit to greet Christ in the Gospel and From the Te Igitur to after the Communion.

As I mentioned, the Missal of 1962 has been largely kind to this ancient rite, preserving much of the form. However, there are some important changes which disturb and deform the original rite. Firstly the entire ceremony of blessing is said in the White Mass vestments. The entire “before redemption” meaning of the colour violet, which is (inconsistently) maintained in Advent and Lent to the present day, despite the suppression of the folded chasuble, is lost. Related to this, the instructions Flectamus genua and Levate are gone. These instructions particular to the Deacon and Subdeacon were also part of the Solemn prayers of pre-1955 Good Friday, but for no apparent reason, the Subdeacon was divested of his Levate, which was given to the Deacon.

Secondly, and consistent with a general move to suppress these prayers where another rite precedes Mass (viz. the 1955 Palm Sunday [though previous to this reform, the psalm was omitted as per Sundays in Passiontide]), the prayers at the foot of the altar are not said. While much could be said about the disregard shown in this reform for the liturgical coherence of the Mass, and the importance of the words “Introibo ad altare Dei” in the worship of the Church, I only have time here to share these words again from the Catholic Encyclopaedia :

"That the Mass, around which such complicated rules have grown, is the central feature of the Catholic religion hardly needs to be said, During the Reformation and always the Mass has been the test. The word of the Reformers: "It is the Mass that matters", was true. The Cornish insurgents in 1549 rose against the new religion, and expressed their whole cause in their demand to have the Prayer-book Communion Service taken away and the old Mass restored. The long persecution of Catholics in England took the practical form of laws chiefly against saying Mass; for centuries the occupant of the English throne was obliged to manifest his Protestantism, not by a general denial of the whole system of Catholic dogma but by a formal repudiation of the doctrine of Transubstantiation and of the Mass."

To my mind, the decision to remove in one stroke, a part of what is and has been for centuries, words that have become ingrained in the mind of every Catholic, is a serious assault on tradition, and, by extention, what that tradition seeks to protect, and this assault must be interrogated. The notion that a part of the ancient practice of the Church’s regular worship can be edited out, simply for the sake of convenience, is above all patronising to the very people for whom this service exists: the plebs sancta Dei. The assumption that the lay man or woman in the nave of the church has suffered, Sunday by Sunday, from a lack of comprehension, an inability to engage with the rite of Mass because of its convoluted ceremonial or its long-dead Latin is the great fallacy of the movement for reform, and a damaging lie. The simplification and reduction of the liturgy is, in my view, the very reason why church attendance has dropped so severely since the period of reform began. As one friend put it, when a churched Christian reaches adulthood and is still expected to engage with a dumbed-down liturgy that was altered to be accessible even to small children, then what really is there to keep them from leaving? An examination of the unreformed rites of Candlemas, as with any ancient ceremony of the Church, clearly exhibit a language in vibrant use, a language which can be heard readily by anyone who opens themselves to it. The particular language is the Roman rite, but the message is redemption. Dumbing down the Mass, the Liturgy, the traditions of the Church, can only indicate that much of the Church as a whole has stopped believing in Herself, and that what She has offered to Her children for centuries is no longer worth very much at all.