First, the celebrant places incense in the thurible, then the deacon turns to the people and says:
V. Let us go forth in peace.
R. In the Name of Christ. Amen.
The thurifer goes first, carrying the thurible, followed by the vested subdeacon, who carries the cross between two acolytes with lighted candles, then the clergy in order, finally the celebrant with the deacon at his left. All hold lighted candles in their hands.
During the procession, anthems are sung beginning with a wonderful antiphon. Remember the Gospel. Mary would have been brought within the Temple, carrying the Lord, the Light of the World, and led to a place of sacrifice, the offering of her Firstborn. The firstborn had to be redeemed, bought back as it were, through a substitute sacrifice, in the case of Christ two doves, one for holocaust and one for sacrifice. It is at the Presentation that Simeon speaks of the rhomphia, the heart-piercing sword, and Mary becomes the Sorrowful Mother through the first of her sorrows.
This moment of Candlemas, the Presentation of the Lord, is link between the Nativity and the Passion, the reason why Christ was born.
The 1st Antiphon:
Adorna thalamum tuum, Sion, et suscipe Regem Christum amplectere Mariam, quae est coelestis porta: ipsa enim portat Regem gloriae novi luminis: subsistit Virgo, ad ducens manibus Filium ante luciferum genitum: quem accipiens Simeon in ulnas suas, praedicavit populis, Dominum eum esse vitae et mortis, et Salvatorem mundi.
Adorn thy bridal-chamber, O Sion, and welcome Christ the King: with loving embrace greet Mary who is the very gate of heaven; for she bringeth to thee the glorious King of the new light: remaining ever a Virgin yet she bearest in her arms the Son begotten before the day-star: even the Child, whom Simeon taking into his arms, declared to the peoples to be the Lord of life and death, and the Savior of the world.
At Christmas we receive the Lord. At Candlemas we offer Him.
In the Churching of woman after child birth, they are met a the entrance to the church and then led forward. This same antiphon is used.
In addition to the theme of light functioning throughout the rite there is also another echo of Christmas and Epiphany. God meets man. God comes to us, and we go to Him. Today there is another meeting of God and man, expectant man, symbolized by Anna and Simeon. The hymn sung in the procession frames our meeting, our Encounter as the liturgy of the Greek East calls this say, in nuptial terms.
In the Mass itself, we have the with its emphasis on the place, the Temple, a strong theme in the Mass’ texts:
COLLECT (1962MR):
Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, maiestatem tuam suppliciter exoramus: ut, sicut unigenitus Filius tuus hodierna die cum nostrae carnis substantia in templo est praesentatus; ita nos facias purificatis tibi mentibus praesentari.
This is an ancient prayer, going back at least to the 9th c. and is found Liber sacramentorum Romanae ecclesiae ordine excarpsus.
You will quickly see what is happening if you are a student of Latin. Take careful note of the ut in the second part, which leads to a subjunctive down the line. Also, there is a typical sicut…ita construction, the ita part having the subjunctive result of the ut.
There is a nice turn of phrase at the end, using the trope hyperbaton, whereby that tibi separates the two elements of the ablative absolute purificatis … mentibus. I also like that use of praesentatus… praesentari, a trope called, if memory serves, polyptoton.
The word maiestas is associated with gloria, a divine characteristic which transforms us who encounter it. Thinks of the transformation of Moses’ face after he met with the Lord in the tent or on the mount: he had to wear a veil because his face was too bright to look at. Also, Romans liked addressing people in indirect ways. We still do this in some formal discourse and letters. It is courtly, courteous. Here maiestas can be heard as a form of address: Your Majesty. So, maiestas has layers on layers of meaning.
Note the philosophical language of substantia. Some times people will argue that the switch from Greek to Latin, the spoken language in ancient Rome, is justification for using the “vernacular” today. The problem with that argument is that the Latin used in the Church for prayer, was not the language spoken by the people. It had technical vocabulary (e.g., maiestas, substantia) and turns of phrase nothing like everyday speech (e.g., hyberbaton, polyptoton).
See what happens? It all seems straight forward. Then you start to drill.
Candlemas is a beautiful feast full of meaning and symbols.
This day, the last of the Days of the Blackbird in Rome, the sun rose at 07:21 and it will set at 17:26.
Here is a PDF of a Novena which you could pray beginning Candlemas, 2 February, to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. More on this at 
On this Feast of St. Martina, Roman Virgin and Martyr (+228), the sun was up at 07:22 and it will set at 17:25.
Today I was out and about in Rome doing errands. I chanced on a posted sign in the penitents’ part of the free standing confessionals that line most Roman churches, often dusty from neglect. The sign is a little blurry because it was dark and I wasn’t quite patient enough. However, it is the newer, post-Conciliar form in Italian with some cultural variants. It was clearly not new, given how yellowed it was. What is interesting is that it includes a beautiful prayer that priest would say after absolution in the older, traditional rite. It is an optimistic, hope filled desire for the remission of temporal punishment due for sins that have been absolved:
Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.
Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have taken and given honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.
Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children’s children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat’s path, and the fox’s home,
Fleeing from the foreign faces and the foreign swords.
Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel’s consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.
According to thy word,
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints’ stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also).
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation