Last week, I enjoyed the tremendous blessing of a brief visit to the great Monastero di San Benedetto in Norcia, at the birthplace of Saints Benedict and Scholastica. I was in Austria giving a course on the theology of sacred music at the International Theological Institute, and, as I had long wished to make my final oblation as a Benedictine oblate of Norcia, it seemed the right time to do so. This post really is nothing more than a series of notes and pictures; perhaps on a later occasion I will have the chance to share some liturgical reflections that occurred to me during my stay with the monks.

The refectory at Heiligenkreuz

Side altar in Norcia to St. Peter Celestine

Close-up of the image of the saint

Before

After

The oblation ceremony

The chanting of the Suscipe

Br. Francis and a tank

Br. Anthony with more tanks

Storage of malt

The bottling machine

Entrance to the mountain retreat

The chapel in the mountains

A view from the path

The Portuguese ambassador to the United Kingdom is to attend Mass at the Personal Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham's central church in Warwick Street, Soho, London next month as part of efforts to restore historic links between that church and the Portuguese Embassy. His Excellency João de Vallera, along with other representatives from the Portuguese community in London, will be at the 10.30 a.m. Solemn Mass on Sunday 15 June, which falls at the end of a week of celebrations to mark Portugal's National Day on 10 June.

The Warwick Street Catholic Church, Our Lady of the Assumption and St. Gregory, which Cardinal Vincent Nichols dedicated to the life of the Ordinariate in 2013, was built on the site of a Catholic chapel which had served the Portuguese embassy in London in the early eighteenth century, when the embassy was located in Golden Square, Soho. That original chapel, built during the Marques de Pombal's term as ambassador from 1724 to 1747 (and subsequently leased to the Bavarian Embassy), was badly damaged during the anti-Catholic Gordon Riots of 1780. It was rebuilt in 1789-90.

The Mass will include music by the Portuguese composer, Manuel Cardoso alongside pieces by English composers including Herbert Howells and John Stainer, and will be celebrated according to the Ordinariate Use. The principal celebrant will be the Ordinary of the Personal Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham, the Rt Revd Monsignor Keith Newton. This will be followed by a reception for all at which Portuguese wine and canapes will be served. Mass is at 10.30 a.m. Sunday 15 June. Church of Our Lady of the Assumption and St Gregory, Warwick Street, London, W1B 5LZ. All are welcome.

Solesmes has published the latest volume in the Paléographie Musicale series. This beautiful volume is the 23rd in the series which began in 1889 and is the first to be published in colour. It is a facsimile of Montecassino MS 542, a 12th century antiphonary and a beautiful example of the distinctive Beneventan Chant which originated in the south of Italy. The book has an introduction and explanation (in French) of the notation by the scholar and musician Katarina Livljanić as well as a comprehensive index.

The photograph below shows the original manuscript and the first antiphon from Lauds on the Feast of the Holy Innocents: Herodes iratus occidit multos pueros in Bethlehem Judae civitate David. The damage sustained in a fire can be seen at the top.

The new edition can be purchased directly from Solesmes.

The video of Solesmes below was recently filmed by a drone and shows parts of the monastery usually hidden out of sight. The opening shot starts in the French Garden, the Abbey Church visible to the right, and moves towards the Maurist Priory building which contains both the Atelier of the Paléographie Musicale as well as Dom Gueranger's cell, exactly as he left it. The charming garden of the smaller Maurist Cloister can be seen, as well as the Great Cloister, in the corner of which is the small building (with turret roof) where the Abbot washes the hands of guests before they enter the refectory. The Abbot's octagonal cell juts out at first floor level over a small internal courtyard (1:30) next to the library at the heart of the complex. The classic view of Solesmes which ends the short video is taken from a little further upstream on the River Sarthe.

The First Epistle of St Peter recalls that all the baptized share in the priesthood of Jesus Christ, just as the whole community of Israel constituted a “priestly people” (1 Pt 2:9). However, within that one holy people, certain men were chosen to represent them in offering sacrifice to Almighty God. And so it is with Christ’s holy Church. Through the Sacrament of Holy Order, a man is configured to Christ the Priest, so that the priesthood in which he now shares differs, as Lumen Gentium teaches us, “in essence and not only in degree” (n. 28) from the common priesthood of all the baptized.

Nevertheless, St John the Evangelist shares with us the exasperation of our great High Priest with those He had associated with Him in His priestly office: “Have I been with you so long, and yet you do not know me... ?” (Jn 14:9). However, Our Lord is not content to leave those first priests of His where they are; rather, He promises them that, if they have faith, they will do “greater works than [He]” (Jn 14:12). Truly remarkable. That promise is even fulfilled, St Luke informs us today, within the Jewish priesthood as “a large group of priests were becoming obedient to the faith.”

Those men had become convinced of the power of the name of Jesus for, as Peter and John proclaimed to the Sanhedrin, “there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). Later, St Paul would rhapsodize, “At the name of Jesus, every knee must bend” (Phil 2:10). A name is critically important. Indeed, numerous studies have shown that the self-image and achievement of individuals is highly conditioned by what they think of their names. And so, with all due respect to the Bard of Avon, we cannot concur that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

In the biblical scheme of things, a name is highly significant, especially when one is chosen for a new role. Abraham and Peter come to mind immediately. I would like to continue in that biblical line of thought and practice by presenting the principal celebrant of today’s Holy Mass with a reflection on his names and, since he is always most gracious, I am sure he will be more than happy to allow all of you to eavesdrop on my remarks.

David Michael Waters. Three strong, suggestive and programmatic names for a priest.

David – what a complex and intriguing man. A conniver, adulterer and murderer, yes, but at the same time highlighted by St Paul, relying on 1 Samuel 13, as one whom God Himself considers “a man after my heart, who will carry out all my wishes” (Acts 13:22). This terrible sinner-turned-saint occupies much of the Old Testament, keeping us fascinated with his story for the first weeks of Ordinary Time this year and noted with reverence 160 times in the New Testament. Chapter 47 of the Book of Sirach sings David’s praises in laconic form as the slayer of Goliath and destroyer of the Philistines, as well as a promoter of the worship of God. The sacred author concludes by saying that, for these reasons, “the Lord forgave him his sins and exalted his strength forever” (v. 11).

Ah, what a job description for a young priest. Slaying the giants of secularization and the Philistines of the anti-culture. The drive toward secularism and the demise of civilization go hand in hand. A basic lesson in etymology reveals that the Latin word cultura (culture) comes from the word cultus (worship): You see, according to the wisdom of the ancients, even the pagan ancients, it was deemed impossible to have a culture without reference to divine worship. The Fathers of the Second Vatican Council in Gaudium et Spes surely got it right when they declared, “Without the Creator, the creature vanishes” (n. 36). We priests are deputed to serve as sentinels or watchmen who cry out with all our might, echoing the insightful and consoling remark of Pope Benedict XVI in his inaugural homily which, in turn, was a reprise of John Paul II’s inaugural homily:

If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us? Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something significant, something unique, something that makes life so beautiful? Do we not then risk ending up diminished and deprived of our freedom? ... If we let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful and great. No! Only in this friendship are the doors of life opened wide. Only in this friendship is the great potential of human existence truly revealed. Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and liberation. And so, today, with great strength and great conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of life, I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him, we receive a hundredfold in return. Yes, open, open wide the doors to Christ – and you will find true life.

That, I submit, must be our undying message.

Furthermore, we priests must be preservers and transmitters of that culture which rose, Phoenix-like, from the ashes and cesspool of decadent Rome, flowering in a superabundance of works in literature, art, music, architecture, science, all produced in the Middle Ages – the Age of Faith par excellence. The seer of the Book of Revelation, in his third chapter, recounts the Spirit’s message to the Church of Philadelphia, doing so with reference to the “Clavis David” (the Key of David), a lovely image that also finds its way into the “O Antiphons” of the late Advent season. What is the “Key of David,” and what is its connection to the Sacred Priesthood?

For an answer, we go back to the title’s first appearance in the Book of Isaiah, where we meet Shebna, whose authority will be conferred on Eliakim: “And I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and none shall shut, and he shall shut, and none shall open” (Isa 22:22). In this way, says the Prophet, Eliakim “shall be a father” to God’s People. In the power of the keys – to bind and loose – are found the responsibility and the charisms of sanctification and governance in the Church, exercised after the manner of the Good Shepherd Himself and carried out in a particularly moving way in the Sacrament of Penance. It is also operative in leading one’s flock, a flock not always willing to be led, preferring at times the superficial allurements of the anti-culture to the green pastures where await them the sacraments of life and salvation. The priest bears the onus of seeing to it that both he and his flock arrive in those safe pastures. Hence, we pray in the Liturgy of the Hours that the flock would never lack the care of the shepherd, nor the shepherd the obedience of the flock. One further word from an elder presbyter to a son in the ministry: Heed the sage advice of St Paul to Timothy, his son in the priesthood: “Let no one despise your youth” (1 Tm 4:12).

King David made beautiful worship a priority of his kingship, but I would beg you not to emulate his effort at liturgical dance. Let us listen to how Sirach summed up David’s liturgical accomplishments:

In all that he did he gave thanks to the Holy One, the Most High, with ascriptions of glory; he sang praise with all his heart, and he loved his Maker. He placed singers before the altar, to make sweet melody with their voices. He gave beauty to the feasts, and arranged their times throughout the year, while they praised God’s holy name, and the sanctuary resounded from early morning. (Sir 47:8-11).

There’s another “mission statement” for a priest, if ever there was one, as well as a good text by which to conduct a daily examination of conscience. And may Sirach’s assessment of King David be that of the People of God at the funeral of every priest, including this new one.

We also hear sung the praises of the “Tower of David” in the Canticle of Canticles (4:4). That ancient citadel was a fortress guarding entrance to the City of Jerusalem at the Jaffa Gate. The priest is to defend the Church from the assaults of her enemies, to be sure. However, the Church has also seen in the Tower of David a figure of the Blessed Virgin Mary, an image which finds its way into the lyricism of the Litany of Loreto. Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman explains: “A tower in its simplest idea is a fabric for defence against enemies. David, King of Israel, built for this purpose a notable tower; and as he is a figure or type of Our Lord, so is his tower a figure denoting Our Lord’s Virgin Mother.”

And now permit me to go one step farther: Just as Our Lady always advanced the mission of her Son during His earthly life and ministry from Cana to Calvary; just as the doctrine of her divine maternity has preserved the truth of her Son’s full identity throughout the history of the Church, so too is she given in a unique manner to those men who share in her Son’s Priesthood, as they are allowed to hear in the words to the Beloved Disciple a message addressed to them as well: “Behold your mother” (Jn 19:27). A priest’s life and ministry need to be marked by the maternal presence of “the woman” who rejoices in the Cana of his ordination, First Mass and celebratory banquet – and who will stand by him through his sure-to-come experiences of Calvary. And so, daily recourse to the Mother of the Eternal High Priest, perhaps with the concluding prayer of St John Paul II in Pastores Dabo Vobis:

O Mother of Jesus Christ, you were with him at the beginning of his life and mission, you sought the Master among the crowd, you stood beside him when he was lifted up from the earth consumed as the one eternal sacrifice, and you had John, your son, near at hand; accept from the beginning those who have been called, protect their growth, in their life ministry accompany your sons, O Mother of Priests.

Next, we need to consider the principal celebrant’s middle name of “Michael,” which he and I share. As we learned in grammar school, the name means “Who is like God?” And the first point to be made here is that that means: You are not! All too many clerics have a “messiah complex,” leading them to believe that they, rather than Jesus, are the saviors of the world. In many Protestant churches of a former era, it was common to find in the pulpit a tiny sign intended only for the preacher’s eyes; it contained the words of the Greek-speaking delegation to Philip with the demand: “We wish to see Jesus” (Jn 12:21). In other words, as astonishing as it might seem to some of us priests, it’s not all about us; it’s about Jesus Christ. In this regard, it behooves us to meditate frequently on one of Cardinal Newman’s more poignant prayers, one prayed daily by Mother Teresa and her Missionaries of Charity:

Dear Jesus, help me to spread Your fragrance wherever I go. Flood my soul with Your spirit and life. Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly that my life may only be a radiance of Yours. Shine through me and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with may feel Your presence in my soul. Let them look up and see no longer me, but only Jesus!

Indeed, the very meaning of the word angelos in Greek is that he is a messenger or representative of one greater than himself. As such, it is the duty of a priest, like St Michael the Archangel, to be a defender of the honor of God. In the culture in which we find ourselves, this could well become a full-time job. Once again, the ever-prescient Cardinal Newman told seminarians in 1873 that a time was on the horizon when Catholics would perceive the old battles between Catholics and Protestants as child’s play, compared to what he dubbed “the infidelity of the future,” by which he meant a militant, aggressive secularism. I venture to say that Cardinal Newman himself would be astonished to see just how far the campaign of secularization has proceeded.

However, the task of the priest today is no different from that of the priest of the Old Covenant, that is, to make the People of God holy, so that they in turn can make holy the world in which they live. We do that in a preeminent way by teaching and preaching without equivocation the whole truth of Jesus Christ and His Church. We stiffen the spine of the lay faithful, making them confident of the truth of the Gospel and giving them the spiritual and psychological wherewithal to present that truth as a source of life, joy and human flourishing. Thus, in defending the honor of God, we shall equally defend the honor of man, made in God’s image and likeness – “the only creature on earth that God has willed for its own sake,” as we read in Gaudium et Spes (n. 24) and in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (n. 356).

Which means that, like Michael, priests must be the implacable enemy of Satan. Many Fathers of the Church held that the battle between God and Lucifer occurred because God the Father had revealed His plan for the Incarnation, that His Son would become Man. Lucifer took offense at such a notion, for he could not conceive of worshiping God in the form of man. The image of man has become totally distorted in our society – the work of the Devil, Diabolos in Greek, which means one who “sows confusion,” confusion about who man is and who God is at one and the same time.

Today’s priest must be untiring in holding up the inestimable dignity of the human person as created by God and redeemed by Jesus Christ – a mission which will be mightily resisted by Satan’s minions, for only by obfuscating the image of God in man can they succeed in their goal of gaining disciples. A word of warning, however: If a priest is performing this essential service to humanity, he can count on the constant assaults of the Evil One. Therefore, he must be girded for battle through: a profound understanding of the Christ and the Church he serves; his own priestly identity; constant recourse to prayer; and total reliance on divine grace.

We are told that Pope Leo XIII had a vivid apprehension of the onslaught of Satan against the Church and so counseled prayer to the Archangel Michael. Who can doubt that Leo’s worst fears are being realized at present and that the first attacks of the Devil are upon Christ’s priests? Indeed, more than ever, our need to pray fervently: “Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.”

That said, let me offer reason for confidence in this fight against the Evil One. Yesterday in the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, an ancient promise was renewed, connected to our principal celebrant’s first two names:

I have found David, my servant; with my holy oil I have anointed him; so that my hand shall ever abide with him, my arm shall strengthen him. The enemy shall not outwit him, the wicked shall not humble him. I will crush his foes before him and strike down those who hate him. My faithfulness and my steadfast love shall be with him ... Once for all I have sworn by my holiness; I will not lie to David. (Ps 89: 20-24; 35)

Next we come to our celebrant’s surname, “Waters.” In my biblical concordance, there are over 700 entries referring to the word “water” or its derivatives! We know from our observation of nature that water is an ambivalent reality, which can bring both life and death. Not enough water, death; too much water, death as well. The waters which brought life and freedom to the Israelites of old likewise brought death to the Egyptians.

Today let us focus on the necessity for water to be available whenever needed. Our Lord repeatedly presented Himself as the source of “living waters” and, as the Preface for the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart reminds us: “For raised up high on the Cross, he gave himself up for us with a wonderful love and poured out blood and water from his piercèd side, the wellspring of the Church’s Sacraments, so that, won over to the open heart of the Savior, all might draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.” It is the solemn obligation and grand privilege of the priest to make available to all – “on-demand” – the opportunity “to draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.” How is that done? Let me suggest two practical ways.

Our consecrated celibacy is the neon sign that shines out with the message: “Open 24/7.” Priestly celibacy is not a form of convenient bachelorhood. Nor is it a way for our people to maintain “cheap labor.” Celibacy, for the sake of the Kingdom (as Jesus envisioned it), is intended to be an eschatological sign, that is, a reminder of the life to come – a concrete, in-the-flesh proclamation of the assertion of the Epistle to the Hebrews: “For here we have no lasting city” (Heb 13:14), in which we hear the resonance of Our Lord’s admonition: “... and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to receive this, let him receive it” (Mt 19:12). That is, total availability for the waters of salvation to flow here below – and a consistent sign of the saving waters of eternity. Truth be told, as I move around the country and the world – on planes, trains, and city streets – I am constantly asked if I am a Catholic priest and, almost invariably, the next question is: “What do you think of priests not being married?” In a sex-saturated society, celibacy is arguably the most convincing witness to the truth of the Gospel.

Which leads to the second means of offering the living waters of Christ to one and all – through our public identification as priests. Now more than ever, people need public reminders of the presence of God, indeed of His very existence. The priest, as a marked man, makes that proclamation and, built into that proclamation, is the invitation to “come and drink of the living waters.” During Pope John Paul II’s pastoral visit to Ireland in 1979, he pleaded with the clergy and religious of that nation:

Rejoice to be witnesses to Christ in the modern world. Do not hesitate to be recognizable, identifiable, in the streets as men and women who have consecrated their lives to God and who have given up everything worldly to follow Christ. Believe in the value for contemporary men and women of the visible signs of your consecrated lives. People need signs and reminders of God in the modern secular city, which has few reminders of God left. Do not help the trend towards "taking God off the streets" by adopting secular modes of dress and behavior yourselves!

At the press conference releasing the Directory on the Ministry and Life of Priests in 1994, then-Bishop Cresenzio Sepe of the Congregation for the Clergy was asked: “The document says priests should always be dressed as priests. Does that mean even when they go out to dinner?” Bishop Sepe replied: “A priest is no less a priest at the dinner table than he is at the altar!” From personal experience, I can attest that I have probably done as much good for the cause of Christ, His Gospel and His Church in the public forum as I have in pulpits and classrooms. Our visible, public witness is an invitation to a thirsting humanity to “come and drink” of the life-giving waters flowing from Christ through His Church. Oh, as a not-so-side note, if you can’t look happy and joyful, please don’t appear in public as a priest: There’s nothing so counter-productive to the proclamation of the “Good News” of Christ as a glum, misery machine in a Roman collar or a veil!

Finally, we come to one more name, that some will consider a title, which you received yesterday, that of “Father.” No, “Father” is not a title; it is truly a name. Through the grace of the Sacrament of Order, you became a father in ways as real as any biological father and, you will discover, even more so in many circumstances. In the sadly fatherless society we inhabit, a priest is often called to do “double duty” as a psychological father-figure, in addition to his spiritual fatherhood, whereby he begets children for the Kingdom of God, fosters their growth, and leads them into eternity. I should mention that the Church of Philadelphia is so blessed to have as its “father in God” Archbishop Charles Chaput, whom I am delighted and honored to count as a long-time friend and who has certainly been a model for clerics throughout our nation for his more than a quarter-of-a-century episcopate.

Dearest son and now a brother, never, ever eschew the glorious name of “Father,” by which the Catholic faithful express their devotion and affection to anonymous priests on a city street. Why? Because in the family of the Church, no priest is ever a stranger. Every priest is a father, who brings with him nothing less – no one less – than Christ Himself, the Eternal High Priest. No priest should think that intimate relationships with the faithful call for putting aside the loving name of “Father”; nor should other possibly exalted titles like “Doctor” ever supplant the natural and supernatural name of “Father.” Of course, now you would have to wait another forty years for the possibility of “Monsignor,” anyway. Here we should recall that when Blessed John Henry Newman became a cardinal, many asked how he should then be addressed. It is said that, with his characteristic incisiveness, he replied that of all the titles he had held in his life, never did any ever mean more to him than that of “Father.” May every priest always endeavor to be worthy of the name.
Dear friends in Christ and friends of the newly ordained, let us return to today’s First Reading where we heard St Luke inform us that “a large group of priests were becoming obedient to the faith.” This young man took yet another step in that direction yesterday. We know that “obedience in the faith” is not a one-time deal; indeed, it is the work of a lifetime. It is the happy responsibility of all God’s People to pray that their priests grow day by day in that obedience. May I ask each one present today to make a firm commitment – as a matter of fact, a solemn promise – to pray for this new priest every day that, in the words of today’s Collect, his ministry would “bear much fruit” and that he would thus “come to the joys of life eternal.”

And now with all four names considered, Father David Michael Waters, the Church asks you to do what you were ordained to do yesterday and what, Deo volente, you will do every day for the rest of your life: Join Our Lady and the Beloved Disciple at the foot of the cross which is this altar and make the Lord’s redeeming Sacrifice present for us. In the pleading words of Micah, “Be for us a father and a priest” (Jdgs 17:10).

During a recent trip in England, Bishop Athanasius Schneider celebrated a Pontifical Mass at the Faldstool at one of the first post-reformation Marian shrines. Ceremonially, it's interesting to note that he does not use a crosier, because the crosier is reserved to the ordinary and to those whom he gives specific permission. I'm sure readers could add more commentary about this minor point. Have a blessed Sunday.

Yesterday I searched through my collection of recordings at home to see if I could find some Ascensiontide music to share with my family in the evening. I was surprised at how little specific music I could find, but I did come across two magnificent pieces: Thomas Tallis's office hymn Jam Christus astra ascenderat (which is more a Pentecost hymn but opens with a great reference to the mystery of the Ascension itself) and Gerald Finzi's anthem "God is Gone Up."

So, as we await in prayer the promised Paraclete, here are two beautiful (and very different!) musical meditations.


A translation:

Now Christ had ascended to the stars,
returning whence he had come,
having promised the Father's gift
that he would grant them the Holy Spirit.

The solemn day was approaching
which blessed time is marked
by the mystical seven-times-seven
rotation of the world.

During the third hour,
suddenly the whole world resounds,
and as the apostles pray,
announces the coming of the Lord.

Therefore from the light of the Father
there comes a beautiful and loving fire
which infuses the hearts of the faithful in Christ
with warmth of his word.

These consecrated hearts
you thus replenished with your grace;
forgive now our sins
and give us peaceful times.

Praise be to the Father with the Son,
together with the Holy Paraclete,
and may the son send to us
the grace of the Holy Spirit.

A friend shared with me Fr. Hunwicke's recent series of posts in response to Archimandrite Taft's query about the ecumenical nature of post-schism councils.  Fr. Hunwicke spends a post attacking Taft's position, and then in a later post explains what he thinks the roots of Archimandrite Taft's mistake are:

Icon of the Fathers of the First Ecumenical Council with Arius beneath their feet

Taft's big mistake, I suspect, is to fetichise Councils and, by expecting too much of them, to have problems when they fail to live up to the standards he has set them. This is not surprising; given a lifetime of scholarly work on Byzantine Christianity, it is natural that he should have some of its unspoken assumptions rubbed off, as it were, upon him. And an extremely high regard, even an adulation, of councils, seems, to the poor and ignorant Westerner who is writing this, to be a marked feature of Orthodoxy (I am humbly open to correction from Orthodox readers). 

What interests me is Fr. Hunwicke's suggestion that such an adulation of councils is an unspoken assumption of the Church.  For the Byzantine tradition, the adulation is anything but.  The Sunday after the Feast of the Ascension celebrates the Fathers of the First Ecumenical Council, who are lauded over and over again in the strophes for Vespers and Matins.  The Kontakion for the Feast is very clear about the import of the work of Nicea:

The preaching of the apostles and the teaching of the Fathers have confirmed the faith of Church, which she wears as the garment of truth, woven from the theology on high, as she faithfully imparts and glorifies the great mystery of devotion.

Here the work of Nicea is placed in the context of the apostolic preaching and as integral to the mission of the Church.  The Troparion specifically praises Christ for establishing the Fathers of Nicea as "beacons on the earth."

Throughout the year, the fathers of the six subsequent Councils are remembered: Constantinople I is on May 22, Ephesus on Sept. 9th, Chalcedon on July 16th, or the closest Sunday (Typikon of the Great Church), Constantinople II on July 25, Constantinople III on January 23, and Nicea II on the Sunday closest to Oct. 11.  For Churches following the Slavic practice, the fathers of the first six ecumenical councils are commemorated on the Sunday between July 13th and 19th to guarantee that all of the faithful are given a Sunday to celebrate all of those men.  And the Sunday in October has come to be a celebration of the Fathers of all of the first seven ecumenical councils.  Gregory DiPippo has posted on the Christological content of this last Sunday here.

19th Century Russian Icon of the Fathers of the First Seven Ecumenical Councils

Some of the texts from the vespers for the Sunday in October are astounding:

The Book of the Law has truly honored the seventh day for the Hebrews who were dispersed  in the shadow of the Law and devoted to it.  But you Fathers, by your participation in the Seven Councils, by the inspiration of God who in six days finished this universe and blessed the seventh day, have made it more honorable by decreeing the bounds of faith.

Then the number of the Councils is given another typological interpretation, with the Fathers being credited for revealing first the Trinity, and then the Trinity's role in creating the four elements of all creation, hence 3+4 becomes a catechesis in itself:

You have given all, O thrice-blessed Fathers, to know the Father, the Son, and the Spirit clearly by their works: the Trinity who is the cause of the creation of the world.  By your mystical speech you called the first three councils and then the next four.  Now you have appeared as the champions of the true faith, thus proving that the Trinity is truly the Creator of the four elements of the world.

And lastly, the seven councils are linked to the work of the prophets:

It would have sufficed Elisha the Prophet to bend but once to instill life into the son of the servant, but he knelt and bent seven times.  Thus, in his foreknowledge he prophesied your gathering through which you revived the Incarnation of the Word of God, and humiliated Arius and his colleagues.

To repeat the, it is no unspoken assumption of the Eastern Churches, but rather it is declared in sacred liturgical hymnody that the first seven ecumenical councils have a very special sharing in the identity and mission of the Church.  Through these seven councils the Church has participated in the work of the new creation, has revealed the special link between the mystery of the Trinity and the mystery of Creation, and has taken up the prophetic mantle as the privileged herald and beacon of Christ's revelation.

The early fathers also recognized a special role to the early ecumenical Councils, although in the West there was more weight given the first four as opposed to the first seven.  Pope Gregory the Dialogist noted in a letter (I, 24): "I confess that I receive and revere, as the four books of the Gospel so also the four Councils."  And a bit later on Gregory invokes his own typological argument, noting that the Church, built "as on a four-square stone, rises the structure of the holy faith."  I mention this only to show that the reverence for the early ecumenical councils is not simply, as one might argue, a post-schismatic mind-set retroactively investing Councils with some exceptional authority, but rather something the Church has had in her mind from very early on.

Which then brings me back to Fr. Hunwicke's concern for over-valuing the councils. With such an incredible liturgical testimony to the important and unique status of those first seven Councils, it seems wise to call to mind what a Pope Pius XII expressed in Mediator Dei:

 In the sacred liturgy we profess the Catholic faith explicitly and openly, not only by the celebration of the mysteries, and by offering the holy sacrifice and administering the sacraments, but also by saying or singing the credo or Symbol of the faith - it is indeed the sign and badge, as it were, of the Christian - along with other texts.... The entire liturgy, therefore, has the Catholic faith for its content, inasmuch as it bears public witness to the faith of the Church.For this reason, whenever there was question of defining a truth revealed by God, the Sovereign Pontiff and the Councils in their recourse to the "theological sources," as they are called, have not seldom drawn many an argument from this sacred science of the liturgy....Hence the well-known and venerable maxim, "Legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi" - let the rule for prayer determine the rule of belief.

If we are to take seriously  lex orandi, lex credendi, and if we grant that this law is valid for the liturgies of the East and the West, it seems we are far more in danger of undervaluing those first seven councils, than we are of fetishising them.  And if we do not feel comfortable giving this same devotion to all those synods that the Roman Catholic Church canonically rules to be ecumenical, then doesn't it seem to fair to ask: What's the difference?

Last Friday, The Most Reverend Robert P. Deeley, Bishop of Portland in Maine, ordained The Reverend Kyle Doustou to the sacred priesthood in the Basilica Church of Saints Peter & Paul, Lewiston. The church is a former Dominican parish, and now home to the Fraternity of Saint Philip Neri, a community in formation of the Oratory. The following photograph from the Ordination is reproduced by permission of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Portland.

I was very happy to receive a copy from Sophia Institute Press of a new book, The Little Oratory: A Beginner’s Guide to Praying in the Home, by Leila Marie Lawler and NLM’s own David Clayton, with illustrations by Deirdre Folley. As I read through it, I became more and more excited.

To put it simply, this is a must-have book for parents trying to build up a genuine Catholic culture in their homes. As a father and husband, I have had the experience of picking up books of this genre (“how to make your home more Christian/Catholic”) and putting them down with some impatience as I realize how idealistic or ambitious or remote or dated or abstract they were. What I love about The Little Oratory is that it never loses the reader in abstractions or unrealistic expectations. The whole concept of the book is that one builds up a household of prayer step by step, always with simple steps; you find what works and you build on that. Actually, I could compare the book to a cookbook that is designed for busy people who are not ready to spend two hours on a multi-course French gourmet dinner that requires shopping at a special market. They want to know how to make a decent home-cooked meal using affordable ingredients at hand, and in the time available. The Little Oratory is like a book of recipes for Catholicizing the home and permeating it with a Christian atmosphere.

The bedrock concept is that it is Eucharistic worship, the “source and summit of the Christian life,” that needs to be extended into the household, into the family circle. The Mass needs to spill over into daily life, so that we are reminded of our Lord, prepared for Him, living from Him. How do we do this? By a simple and concrete (one might say incarnational) step: make a “little oratory,” a prayer table, an icon corner, that serves as a focus for the home, and then use this as a point of reference for the liturgical year and as a gathering place for prayer—whether that be parts of the Liturgy of the Hours (for this, chapter 5, “On Learning to Pray with a Breviary” is nicely limned), or any other family devotions such as the Rosary (for this, chapter 8, “Praying the Rosary,” and Appendix A, “Devotion to Mary” are a godsend: far more nitty-gritty than most treatments, and yet taking the time to explain the deeper reasons why Catholics do what they do). The authors are taking their cue from the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which says:

The church, the house of God, is the proper place for the liturgical prayer of the parish community. It is also the privileged place for adoration of the real presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. The choice of a favorable place is not a matter of indifference for true prayer.
          For personal prayer, this can be a “prayer corner” with the Sacred Scriptures and icons, in order to be there, in secret, before our Father. In a Christian family, this kind of little oratory fosters prayer in common. (CCC 2691)

The authors are to be complimented especially for the magnificent sections on the liturgy and how it grounds and illuminates the Christian life. In spite of the urgent request of Vatican II to offer liturgical formation to the faithful, the past 40 years have been marked rather by an abysmal lack of understanding of the liturgy and a corresponding lack of the spiritual nourishment it provides. It’s as if Vatican II said: “Make sure you have a very nice Christmas tree so that you can hang lots of ornaments on it,” and the response was: “Banish and burn all Christmas trees—the pagan superstitition of it all!” This book takes the advice of the Church at face value and assumes that the role of the liturgy is to permeate all aspects of our life, in big and small ways; it provides unity for an otherwise scattered, overbusy life.

The Little Oratory combines this vision of the liturgy as organizing principle of the Catholic’s life with an absolute conviction of the centrality of the family and of the home as the place where the faith is incarnated in daily life, where the Church takes root, spreads her branches and bears fruit. And there is a welcome emphasis on the role of beauty and thoughtful organization: “holy decorating,” how you can select and arrange religious art, crucifixes, and living spaces so that (for example) the living room is not centered on the television, as if this were the family shrine. In a way, the title of chapter 11 says it all: “Transform the Home, Transform the World.” The unstated alternative is grim: the world will transform our homes into itself, if we do not take due responsibility and initiative.

As one who contributed a series of articles this past Lent encouraging lectio divina, I was delighted to see chapter 6 devoted to “Getting Closer to God’s Word.” Chapter 7, “Devotion,” contains a nice overview of traditional Catholic associations of weekdays and months with particular devotional emphases. Other chapters take up questions like how the routine at home can interface with the local parish and how families can help the clergy to revitalize parish devotions. One appendix even suggests ways in which business operations can be shaped by the Catholic principles outlined in the rest of the book, while another describes how a group of Catholics can take Vespers to a local hospital. As a musician, Appendix G, “Even You Can Sing,” hugely appealed to me. It’s a kind of primer in sacred song, the common patrimony of all Catholics.

The book also contains 12 lovely line drawings and, at the end, 8 full-color icons that can be removed from their perforated bindings and used in the icon corner (see below for examples).

It’s hard to convey in a short review all the riches found in this book, and the utterly practical, down-to-earth way in which the authors unfold their ideas. The humble, reasonable, and flexible tone fills the reader with a sense of eagerness and hope. The practical details extend to how exactly to set up the icon corner or prayer corner—what kind of images to put there, the cloth to use, candles, books, flowers on special occasions, etc. My wife and I set up a prayer table years ago, but we had to stumble along and figure out by trial and error a bunch of the things that Clayton and Lawler cover succinctly and persuasively here. If you are new to this enterprise, or even if you’re more experienced, the book is just chock-full of great ideas. Chapter 10, “Difficulties You May Have,” is abundant proof that the authors did not write this during a sabbatical in an ivory tower.

For me, the most heartening and inspiring aspect of the book from beginning to end is its strong and serene liturgical anchoring. Clayton and Lawler see the liturgy as giving meaning and shape to our whole life, which is exactly what the classic Liturgical Movement felt and desired, and what the New Liturgical Movement seeks today. I have often felt that most Catholics have been simply abandoned when it comes to living the liturgy. I don’t mean superficial activism at the local church; we have plenty of that, far too much of it, in fact. I mean: What do the Mass, the liturgical year, the great feasts and fasts, the divine office—what have they to do with us? How do they intersect and penetrate with my daily life? Given that the Popes have said that we are to drink in the indispensable Christian spirit from the sacred liturgy, it is a sight for sore eyes to find a book that actually lays out a rich banquet of ways in which we can do precisely that.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit and the imposition of hands by His Eminence, Francis Cardinal George, O.M.I., Archbishop of Chicago, Fr. Joshua Caswell, Fr. Nathan Caswell, and Fr. Kevin Mann were ordained to the Holy Order of the Priesthood, for the Archdiocese of Chicago, as members of the Canons Regular of Saint John Cantius. The Mass of Ordination was offered at 7:30 p.m. on Tuesday, May 27, 2014 at St. John Cantius Church.

Hundreds of parishioners, friends, and family joined Cardinal George for this wonderful occasion. Family came from far away as California and Canada. Many visiting clergy, religious, and sisters were in attendance, including the Most Rev. Joseph N. Perry, Auxiliary Bishop of Chicago, the Very Rev. Douglas Mosey, Rector of Holy Apostles Seminary in Cromwell, CT, Rev. Gregoire Fluet, professor at Holy Apostles Seminary, Rev. Regis N. Barwig, Prior of the Community of Our Lady in Oshkosh, WI, Mother Assumpta Long, O.P. of the Dominican Sisters of Mary Mother of the Eucharist, and Sister Mary Anne Linder, FSE, faculty member at Holy Apostles Seminary.

Cardinal George offered the Mass of Ordination in Latin according to the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite. The Resurrection Choir and Orchestra directed by Fr. Scott Haynes, SJC sang the Messe Solennelle, Op. 36, by Charles-Marie Widor, as well as Ecce Sacerdos, Edward Elgar, Ave Verum, Colin Mawby, Magnificat in G, by Charles Villiers Stanford, I was Glad, C.H. Parry, as well as other motets. The Mass concluded with all singing the Te Deum in Thanksgiving for the newly ordained priests.

The Juventutem chapter in Louisville, Kentucky, officially affiliated to the international federation on March 19th of this year, will have a Holy Hour with Vespers of Pentecost Sunday at 5 p.m. tomorrow. The event will take place at Guardian Angels Catholic Church, 6000 Preston Highway in Louisville. More information at the chapter’s website and in the poster below (click for larger view); as always, all ages are welcome.

Veni, Sancte Spiritus, reple tuorum corda fidelium, et tui amoris in eis ignem accende: qui per diversitatem linguarum cunctarum, gentes in unitatem fidei congregasti, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

The Pentecost Dome of the Basilica of Saint Mark in Venice.

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Thy faithful, and kindle within them the fire of Thy love; who through the variety of all tongues, didst gather the nations into the unity of the faith, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.  (The antiphon for the Psalms of First Vespers of Pentecost in the Dominican Breviary.)

At Pentecost each year the Church reads the story of the Apostles being given the gift to speak so as to be heard in the languages of all the nations. One might view this as a kind of "exaltation of the vernacular": each group must hear the Gospel, the Good News of the death and resurrection of Christ, proclaimed in its own tongue. Obviously, the language of preaching needs to be accessible to the particular audience. But we should ask a further question. Is there a language of worship that reaches the human heart—a "universal vernacular of the sacred," if one might put it that way? Is there a unifying language that the Holy Spirit empowers the Church to speak to all the nations, ancient and modern?

Recent years have seen an increasing number of articles and stories that draw attention to the role of the traditional Latin Mass in the conversion or reversion of young people to the Catholic Faith, and, in particular, to the way that the “thickness” of the old liturgy (to adapt an expression of C. S. Lewis) better expresses the mysteries of that Faith—how its complex layers of prayer, symbolism, ceremony, and chant, even in their apparent foreignness, have the power to speak more directly to the soul. It is the paradox of a practice so dense that it becomes transparent, a reality so ineffable that it impresses itself unforgettably on the mind, a mystery so transcendent that it communicates a piercing message in this place and time. There can be a darkness that furnishes more light than our human light, a self-emptying ritual that enriches the soul with a more lasting and substantive content than our creativity and spontaneity could ever do.

Of many examples one could choose from, here is a first-person account I saw at NLM back in September 2013, written under the pen name Zita Mirzakhani: