Happy Easter!

Happy Easter to all! I'm safely back home (and had dinner, and the first Easter chocolates), after our Easter Vigil at St Francis, Riverside. We did start rather early (at 6:00 pm), but some of our parishioners had to drive in from Beaconsfield, 40 km away; and our esteemed parish priest is 79 (though hale and hearty, thanks be). The Vigil – at which yours truly was thurifer (and, rather unexpectedly, extraordinary minister of the chalice! at least I was vested) – took just on an hour and forty minutes.

The Triduum has been beautiful, and promptly carried out: Holy Thursday Evening Mass took an hour and ten, and the Solemn Commemoration of the Passion on Good Friday an hour and a quarter. Neither seemed rushed, nor did the Vigil, and at all three liturgies there was plenty of good music; Fr Allan used the Roman Canon at the two Masses, so there was no skimping on the Eucharistic Prayer either: evidently, being a wise and experienced priest, he simply knows how to celebrate the sacred mysteries with devotion, but without tardiness.

I feel spiritually recharged, and look forward to celebrating Easter – all fifty days of it. Surrexit Dominus vere, alleluja.

Hoc est, Hodie

To-day, Holy Thursday, for the Evening Mass in Cena Domini, there are several proper insertions into the usual form of the Roman Canon: to my mind, the most moving of them occurs at the start of the Institution Narrative, whose opening words Qui pridie quam are at once supplemented by pro nostra omniumque salute, and whose next word, pateretur, is augmented with a further phrase, hoc est, hodie – that is, in literal translation, between "Who the day before" and "He suffered" the words "for our salvation and that of all" are inserted, and then "that is, today" added. In the new ICEL translation, this is rendered "On the day before he was to suffer for our salvation and the salvation of all, that is today".

"On the day before he was to suffer... that is, today". The Sacraments always make present hic et nunc, here and now, the power of Christ, His healing touch. This evening is special because, being the anniversary of the institution of the Eucharist, on the eve of His Crucifixion, we are reminded that this really happened, these mysteries were first set forth this very day. 

Of old, a heretic asked, What have we to do with a Christ Who died at Jerusalem? – the answer is, that same Saviour indeed died, but more, He rose again, is alive for ever and ever, has the keys of death and of hell, is present everywhere in His Divinity, ever imparting His grace to souls, and in His sacred humanity is truly with us in His Body and Blood consecrated and offered on every altar, applying the all-sufficient power of His Passion in the Sacrifice and Communion, by which we are made one with Christ and given the foretaste of eternal life. To-day Christ is with us, Emmanuel, mighty to save.

Earlier in the Canon of the Mass on this, the night of His Last Supper, the Communicantes begins with "Celebrating the most sacred day on which our Lord Jesus Christ was handed over for our sake, and" (et diem sacratissimum celebrants, quo Dominus noster Jesus Christus pro nobis est traditus: sed), while the Hanc igitur has a long insertion "which we make to you as we observe the day on which our Lord Jesus Christ handed on the mysteries of his Body and Blood for his disciples to celebrate" (quam tibi offerimus ob diem, in qua Dominus noster Jesus Christus tradidit discipulis suis Corporis et Sanguinis sui mysteria celebranda).

What a play on words! Christ hands over the Mysteries of His own Body and Blood as Sacraments to His disciples; and Judas hands Christ over into the hands of His enemies.  But in His betrayal to torment and death is the vicarious suffering that wins salvation for us and all: a supreme sacrifice whose anniversary is to-morrow, and re-presented sacramentally to us this evening, to-day, as once on the evening of His Last Supper He prefigured the events of Good Friday, giving Himself with His own hands (se dat suis manibus).

The Evening Offering of Incense

The Copts still maintain, as an important part of their daily liturgy, the offering of incense at morning and evening; indeed, their Eucharistic Liturgy cannot be celebrated if the offering of incense is omitted, if I recall correctly.  Just so, the idea of a Byzantine Rite Divine Liturgy without incense is almost a contradiction in terms, and is rightly reprobated when Romanizing Uniates attempt such practices – let them conserve their own tradition.

How unfortunate, then, that nearly all Masses, OF and even EF, are celebrated without incense.  Here in Australia (apart, strangely, from the censing of the coffin at funerals), the use of incense at the ordinary Sunday Mass in parishes would be very rare, almost a prerogative of cathedrals; liturgical minimalism and the strange modern mental problem of pretended allergy to incense (never mentioned during the Reformation debates about its use in worship) have driven holy smoke from our sanctuaries.

Very fortunately, then, at my parish church of St Francis, Father determined to pull out all stops for Holy Thursday, and to have incense – and, thanks be to God, when I was called upon to be the thurifer all went very well (since I have a fear of doing so, owing to general clumsiness and the strange ability to extinguish the smoking censer all too rapidly).

In the lead-up to the erection of the Australian Ordinariate, Bp Robarts of the TAC attended our Mass in choir (hence this was the first time I've ever censed an Anglican, as was the courteous thing to do).  As well as that uniquely unexpected detail, it being Holy Thursday there was the final procession to the altar of repose, for which I walked backwards at the head of the procession, censing the Blessed Sacrament all the while.

Carrying in the swinging thurible, assisting as the priest puts on incense again and then censes the altar, taking the thurible back to the sacristy (affording a nice vantage-point for the Mass), adding an extra coal to the three lit before Mass, bringing the censer back to the sanctuary that Father may cense the Gospel ere he read it, again returning to the sacristy and adding another coal, assisting in the sanctuary for the blessing of incense and subsequent censing of oblations, altar, priest, those in the sanctuary and all the faithful, then remaining at the lowest step during the Roman Canon to offer incense in adoration at the Elevation – it was marvellous to be thurifer, and gave a special delight to one of the best Holy Thursdays I can recall.

(The Mozarabic series for Lent has now ended; Holy Thursday in that Rite has a similar fourfold series of readings, true, but I was defeated by the Gospel, which is a combination of all four Gospel accounts of the Passion.  It's translation must remain for next year...)

Maundy Thursday Memories

I had a rather hair-raising drive to the airport last Thursday, but a good flight.  It now strikes me as strange, when I fly Qantas, to find that the cabin crew distribute food and drink gratis; which shews how much I've become used to travel on budget airlines.  Arriving at Tullamarine, I discovered how very difficult – and expensive – it is to try and find a car to rent over the very busy Easter holiday break.  Suffice it to say I paid out a painfully large sum in order to get transport.

The benefit of arranging my own wheels, though, was great; having navigated successfully along the half-remembered route to St Aloysius from the airport (but, as I remembered too many days too late, forgetting to pay the toll – and thus I daily expect a fine to arrive in the mail), I reached church with plenty of time.  Best of all, my friend David Schütz (of Sentire cum Ecclesia) had decided to come along, having read my stated intention on an earlier post here on Psallite Sapienter (so at least this blog does fulfil some useful role).  We sat right up the front, especially because, most unexpectedly, we were asked to make up the number of twelve men to have their feet washed.

Solemn Pontifical Mass of the Lord's Supper began at eight.  As always, the liturgy was excellently celebrated, with soulful plainchant Ordinary and Proper: how could the heart not melt at the Introit Nos autem, or the Gradual Christus factus est?  Come the Maundy, I went forward somewhat embarrassed to have an elderly bishop wash my foot... it reminded me of being in Melbourne a decade or so ago, and in successive years having first Pell, and then Hart do the same to me at the Cathedral.

Greatly to my surprise, Bishop Meeking gave me a coin (20c) as a maundy after washing my foot!  I know that the royal practice is to do so; is there something in the Ceremoniale Episcoporum about this?

Having sung only Gregorian till then, the choir repeated Ubi caritas first in plainsong, then according to Durufle's masterful setting.

Meeking gave an excellent sermon, short, doctrinally rich, pointing out how the Mass was instituted by Christ as Sacrament and Sacrifice – how the Mass is not a mere Communion Service, a repetition of the Last Supper considered by itself, but rather of what the Last Supper embodies: the making present (at the Last Supper of what was about to happen on Good Friday, at every Mass since of what was offered then) of Christ's self-oblation consummated on Calvary, so that the Flesh and Blood we receive is the One Sacrifice, the One Victim Who is everlastingly our Priest.  For this reason, when we do this as His anamnesis, Christ Himself is present as the Sacrifice offered, a sweet-smelling offering acceptable unto God.  (Schütz remarked afterward that this is of course but the Catechism preached; as I responded, the sad truth is how little it is preached.)

David whispered, as we craned our necks to look at His Lordship in the high pulpit, "It's been a long time since I've had to look up for a sermon!"

Again, the choir curiously enough first sang the Offertory in chant, then repeated the same text in what I think was a setting by Palestrina: I wondered if it would have been plus simple et plus uni to sing it but once.

What more to say?  The Preface sung was proper to Maundy Thursday, being one of those pro aliquibus locis.

I have always been moved by the proper parts infra Actionis for Holy Thursday: in the Communicantes: “et diem sacratissimum celebrantes, quo DNJC pro nobis est traditus: sed”; in the Hanc igitur: “ob diem, in qua DNJC tradidit discipulis suis Corporis et Sanguinis sui mysteria celebranda”; and in the Qui pridie: “Qui pridie, quam pro nostra omniumque salute pateretur, hoc est, hodie”.

Being Holy Thursday evening, there was no dona nobis pacem in the Agnus Dei, nor prayer for peace, nor sign of peace, on this night of the Judas kiss.

Mass concluded with the usual procession to the altar of repose (the new side altar of Bl John Henry Newman, patron of the Melbourne Latin Mass community), again with both Gregorian chant for the hymn and a polyphonic encore.

After Mass and procession, which took one and a half hours (a very good length, given the special ceremonies of the evening and the fact that a bishop celebrated), there came next the Stripping of the Altars (we monotoned Psalm 21 throughout) and Compline (again monotoned): Confiteor, Misisereatur, Indulgentiam; Pss 4, 90, 133 and the Nunc dimittis (none with Gloria of course); the antiphon Christus factus est; a silent Pater noster; and the Visita qms (with conclusion silent).

The public service concluded at about 10:05pm; I spoke with David outside, then returned to read over John 13-17, Our Lord's last discourse to His disciples (in some liturgical rites, this was done on Holy Thursday, and I like to do the same – particularly as it leads into the Passion to be read on the morrow), and to go to confession.  I received good advice from Father: prayer is the sovereign remedy against temptation: pray until temptation goes away. I left Church at about 11pm.  Partly in Church, and partly afterward, I read over the penitential psalms, as also was the practice of old time.

Good Friday

As I wrote earlier, I was again struck by the truth that I, as a sinful man, yet redeemed by Christ's Passion, am Barabbas, set free while the Holy One is made the scapegoat, our atonement and our lasting peace.  Last night (after finishing work, thanks be) I went off to hear Mass for Holy Thursday at Carmel; I felt quite unworthy to communicate, and was mindful of the fate of Judas, into whom the devil entered, so sacrilegious a communion that traitor-apostle made!

After Mass, while yet so low, I had perforce a second appointment to keep, at 9pm – to help out with the singing of Compline at St Francis, Riverside, as a conclusion to their period of adoration at the altar of repose.

To-day, Good Friday, marks not only the Lord's Passion, but (I know it sounds bad to say) the start of a most welcome holiday from work.  Thanks be indeed!  I hope I don't scandalize my readers by saying that I marked this morning by sleeping in: one can only do what one can do.  There is no Tenebræ in these parts, and I had no inclination to attend Stations mid-morning; rather, after a walk, I went off to Carmel again for the Solemn Liturgy at 3pm.

The good nuns have a Dominican friar over to celebrate the Triduum for them, which meant we had a good sermon at Mass yester-day, and another to-day: Fr remarked at the outset that our atheistic age is frightened of death and despises its mystery and meaning, preferring to wallow in emotion at best, or to commit abortion and euthanasia at worst.  That woke up the congregation!  

Being a good Thomist, our preacher then went on to carefully distinguish between the real and true suffering that Our Lord underwent in His Sacred Humanity, and the deep truth that in His Divine Nature, as God, remains transcendent and beyond all suffering – hence He both knows our woes and has undergone all for us, while being also Almighty to save.  If God in His Godhead suffered, He would no longer be all-perfect, being rather "hopelessly enmeshed in the world" and unable to save us out of our mess.  I do like anti-Modernist homilies.

When I went up to kiss the crucifix, I was consoled by the thought that there are two rituals in which all may partake: receiving the ashes at the start of Lent, and venerating the Cross at the end of it.

It greatly calmed me when Father announced he would hear confessions after the Liturgy: so having heard the readings and above all St John's Passion (in which we read the Crowd parts together with the nuns: "Not this Man, but Barabbas"...), said Amen to the Solemn Prayers, crept to the Cross, and then prayed while Communion was given, I had the consolation of making my humble confession, being reconciled on this most holy day, indeed being laved in Christ's Blood.  A decade of the Rosary before the Crucifix followed.

I can't wait now for Easter!

Dominican at Mass of the Lord's Supper

Synchronicity?  Arriving at Carmel to-night for the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper, I was pleased to see that the nuns have had Fr Greg McCormick, O.P., come to celebrate the Paschal Triduum for them.  He is a careful celebrant of the liturgy, and a deep preacher, so it was a happy surprise.

Earlier to-day, my last day of work before the Easter break, I'd read the Day Hours; this evening, having the time, I turned back to read Holy Thursday Matins, which I finished off before and at Mass (one may as well pray howso is profitable during the Offertory and while waiting to take Communion - the nuns receive first, of course, and given where I'd chosen to kneel, I ended up being the very last); and while I drove to and from Carmel, I had playing a CD of to-day's Tenebræ Psalms, Lessons and Responsories by Charpentier, to set the proper mood.

Many words in the liturgy struck me, as did Fr's homily, and above all reception of the Blessed Sacrament.  For Him I desire to lead a good life, for desire of the Sacrament...  As our priest quoted St Augustine putting words on Our Lord's lips, Eat Me ye who desire Me, for you shall not convert Me into you, but you shall be changed into Me.

Fr Greg noted to begin with that Our Lord at the Last Supper was a dead Man - His betrayer was at hand (literally!), He was about to be delivered up and put to torment and death - and it is the usual case in human affairs that those who are about to die withdraw little by little, then more and more, from all their temporal concerns, taking leave of their friends, preparing for that final journey which we must all take, alone.  But with Our Lord it was not so: it was rather his uncomprehending disciples who withdrew from Him, who abandoned Him in His agony.

Christ then washed His Apostles' feet: now, while this was indeed a gesture of service, it is not primarily that - consider that in His time, servants certainly washed feet (those enigmatic parts of the body, not generally sung of in romantic poetry so often concerned with other, more glamorous members of the human person! and yet, how worthy of hymning at a Carmel of discalced, that is unshod, nuns!), but more particularly, a wife would lave her husband's feet, not because she was downtrodden as his slave, but because in marriage they were one body: the apocryphal Jewish Tale of Joseph and Asenath has Asenath, wife of Joseph, make it plain that she and no other shall wash his feet, a gesture of intimacy profound, since "your hands are my hands, your feet my feet" (just so Ron and Nic, a husband and wife I know, have the significant nicknames for each other "Body of Nic" for Ron, and "Body of Ron" for Nic).  Therefore, Our Lord's prophetic gesture, sacramental in the sense that it proclaimed what it effected and effected what it proclaimed, was most of all nuptial in meaning: washing His Apostles' feet, Christ was washing the feet of His Bride, the Church, that she might be unspotted and peerless, made by His Passion redeemed and regenerate to live unto life eternal.  

Our Jesus is described as laying aside His garments, that he might bend down to wash feet soiled by the earth; this phrase "laying aside" (Fr continued) is written of in the original Greek with the same verb used by He Himself in His self-revelatory parable of the Good Shepherd, Who lays down His life for His sheep.  (Truly, He laid aside His glory that He might offer Himself a pure Sacrifice, and so wash away the sins in which our feet have been mired by running evil paths against the guidance of our Shepherd.)  Thus in this act His proximate utter self-sacrifice is revealed, unveiled, laid bare: to love is to serve sacrificially.  

The pedilavium, then, is a proclamation of the mystery of the Eucharist, which is the Sacrament of our Christification, whereby we become one Body in the Lord.  All this is for us the example we must live by, living as Christ lived and died: we must therefore live sacrificially and Eucharistically.

Just before Communion, while praying awaiting to go up to the altar rail (yes, the chapel still has them, Deo gratias), I read the last three lessons of Matins, which are taken from St Paul's first Epistle to the Corinthians, xi, 17-34; while after making my Communion, I first prayed my usual aspirations - Ave in æternum, sanctissima caro Christi, mihi ante omnia et super omnia summa dulcedo!  Ave in æternum, sanctissime sanguis Christi, mihi ante omnia et super omnia summa dulcedo!  Corpus et sanguis Christi custodiant me in vitam æternam!  Refecti Christi corpore et sanguine, te laudamus, Domine!  Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto in sæcula sæculorum.  Amen. - and then read Psalm 33, the favourite Communion Psalm of the early Church.  

In both the Apostle and the Psalm, I found sober thoughts alongside consoling ones: St Paul says "For it is also needful that heresies be, that whoso also are proved, they may be made manifest in you" (I Cor. xi, 19) - how extraordinary, that here proximate to the very account of the Eucharist we have the warrant for all the dogmatic development in the Church, predicated upon the happy fault of heresies arising, that is, of opinions grown monstrous, in the face of the threat of which those who are Catholic are approved and made manifest as precisely those in continuity with the Apostolic Deposit of Faith.  He goes on to point out not only that receiving the Eucharist unworthily is deadly dangerous, he openly tells the Corinthians that such alas is the case, and that therefore many have died and many are sick; similarly, the same Psalm that sings "Taste and see how sweet is the Lord" also fearfully proclaims Mors peccatorum pessima, "The death of sinners is the worst".  Of set purpose the Scriptures parallel the blessings a due to the repentant-therefore-justified with the curses coming to the impenitent sinner.

Could it be that the sufferings and gangrenous state of the Church in our time are due to unworthy Communions?

I was struck, thinking back over my depressing sins - for I must take the beam out of my own eye ere ever I presume to sneer at my brother - by the history of Lazarus: "Lazarus, come forth!" the Lord commanded, and come forth from the putrid stench of the tomb of death he did.  I prayed, "Lord, Thy friend is sick," and heard as it were His comment on appearing to delay in coming to help, heal and save: "This illness is for the glory of God"; that is, whatever of our wretched transgressions, Christ's redemption of us from them all gives great glory to God, vindicating His justice in the most extraordinary manner by not damning utterly, but converting and delivering sinners to become saints that may hymn in and through their own redeemed persons His glorious plan of salvation evermore.

So much for Holy Thursday!

I pick up the tale from my last blog, admitting how tired I have been from work; well, after almost dozing off while on the highway home, I decided to have a nap before the evening Mass of the Lord's Supper: going to bed at 5.30pm is not usually my idea of fun, but I was exhausted, and in the end, rather than try and get up, I fell fast asleep, slept through the solemnities, and didn't get up till 10am this Good Friday morning. (Perhaps I should join the Dormitionists.)

Luckily, Holy Thursday hasn't been a day of obligation since 1642!

Apparently - as I learn from my spies - the Mass started at least half-an-hour late, and didn't finish till 10.30pm, so I suspect it was prudent of me to sleep rather than completely to exhaust myself with singing and whatnot, especially considering I've been finding driving very tiring, which could be dangerous.

I do miss, however, the glorious Introit Nos autem and the Gradual Christus factus est (which, however, we will sing at Tenebræ for Holy Saturday tonight). Likewise, it's a pity not to have joined in the Ubi caritas and Pange lingua - though these of course are familiar from much singing of them at other times as well. Given my tiredness, I wasn't going to stick around for the adoration for long, though again in years past, when more awake and more fervent, I've lingered the longer.

Not to boast, but in years past I've attended the Mass of the Lord's Supper at St Patrick's Cathedral, Melbourne, and have had my feet washed by Archbishop Pell (prior to his translation to Sydney and elevation to the Cardinalate) and also by Bishop Hart, prior to his succeeding to the see (for that year, Pell had put his back out, and couldn't bend down to wash feet), so I have some memories to reflect upon.

However, I do not wish to give the impression that all I care about is singing nice music, being involved in celebrations, or bells and smell - the usual accusations against Traddies - for in reality, I love these things only insofar as they outwardly manifest the inner significance of the holy mysteries being celebrated. That is why this blog is called Psallite sapienter - we ought sing with understanding and delight, realizing and assenting to the good truths proclaimed with such beauty, because goodness and truth is beautiful.

It has always affected me to hear or read the Secret and the words in the Canon that are proper to the day:

Ipse tibi, quæsumus, Domine sancte, Pater omnipotens, æternae Deus, sacrificium nostrum reddat acceptum, qui discipulis suis in sui commemorationem hoc fieri hodierna traditione monstravit, Jesus Christus Filius tuus Dominus noster: Qui tecum vivit...

(May He Himself render our sacrifice acceptable unto Thee, we beseech, Holy Lord, Almighty Father, eternal God, Who didst this day by his handing-over [of it] command His disciples to do this in His memory, Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord: Who with Thee liveth...)

Communicantes et diem sacratissimum celebrantes, quo Dominus noster Jesus Christus pro nobis est traditus...

(Communing with and celebrating the most sacred day, when our Lord Jesus Christ was betrayed for us...)

Hanc igitur oblationem servitutis nostræ, sed et cunctæ familiæ tuæ, quam tibi offerimus, ob diem, in qua Dominus noster Jesus Christus tradidit discipulis suis Corporis et Sanguinis sui mysteria celebranda...

(Therefore this oblation of our service, and of all Thy family, which we offer unto Thee, by reason of the day on which our Lord Jesus Christ handed over to His disciples the mysteries of His Body and Blood to be celebrated...)

- What a play on words! Jesus our Lord, is betrayed, handed over (traditus est), to his enemies, who will torment and slay His Body and spill His Blood, and yet out of the evil deicide of this murder will be drawn great good, a divine and spotless willing sacrifice for us men and our salvation; and He hands over (traditione), entrusts (tradidit), to His disciples His own Body and Blood, to be the saving sacrament of His sacrifice, applying its infinite merits to our souls and bodies that we may be saved! -

Qui pridie, quam pro nostra omniumque salute pateretur, hoc est, hodie...

(Who the day before He suffered for the salvation of us and of all, that is, today...)

- This last line almost moves me to tears.



In rejection of the traitorous kiss of Judas that betrayed our Lord to His enemies, the kiss of peace and the accompanying prayer is not said at the Mass of the Lord's Supper. The double mystery: Christ is betrayed, and from this evil comes the salvation of the world; Christ hands over Himself in a mystery, and from this marvel comes the oblation to perpetuate his triumph, and the food and drink that give eternal life.

As a result of my collapse into bed, upon getting up this morning I read the Office of Readings, Vespers, and Compline of yesterday (!) - not through any necessity, but to in some way join in the celebration of the mysteries I'd missed: I must say, the modern Vespers of Holy Thursday (never said if you actually attend the evening Mass) are not terribly inspiring - Psalm 71(72) seems spectacularly inappropriate. About the best bits were the short reading, the introduction to the intercessions, and of course the collect:

Jesus suffered outside the gate to sanctify the people with his own blood. Let us go to him, then, outside the camp, and share his degradation. For there is no eternal city for us in this life but we look for one in the life to come. Through him let us offer God an unending sacrifice of praise, a verbal sacrifice that is offered every time we acknowledge his name. (Hebrews xiii, 12-13)

- This ties together Christ's murder as a saving sacrifice, our own duty to take up our crosses in union with him, our hope for the life to come and not for some imagined this-earthly utopia, and our rightful delight in offering through Him the sacrifice of praise: by which reason the Divine Office is the highest prayer after the Holy Mass -

Let us adore our Saviour, who at the Last Supper, on the night he was betrayed, entrusted to the Church the memorial of his death and resurrection to be celebrated throughout the ages. Confident that he will hear us, we pray: Sanctify the people whom you redeemed with your blood.

Lord God, since for your glory and our salvation, you willed Christ your Son to be the eternal High Priest: grant that the people he gained for you by his blood, may be strengthened by his cross and resurrection when they take part in his memorial sacrifice. Through...