9 October – Feast of St. Abraham, Old Testament Patriarch – WDTPRS: Roman Martyrology

Today, 9 October is the feast of St. Abraham, Patriarch of the Old Testament.

Here is the entry in the newest edition of the Martyrologium Romanum with a translation:

3. Commemoratio sancti Abrahae, patriarchae et omnium credentium patris, qui, Domino vocante, ab urbe Ur Chaldaeorum, patria sua, egressus est et per terram erravit eidem et semini eius a Deo promissam.  Item totam fidem suam in Deo manifestavit, cvm, sperans contra spem, unigenitum Isaac ei iam seni a Domino datum ex uxore sterili in sacrificum offerre non renuit.  …

The commemoration of Saint Abraham, patriarch and father of all believers, who, since the Lord was calling him, went froth from the city of Ur of the Chaldeans, his home land, and wandered through the land promised by God to him and to his seed.  He manifested his complete faith in God when, hoping against hope, he did not refrain from offering in sacrifice his only-begotten son Isaac, given by the Lord to him, an old man, from his sterile wife.

Nothing is impossible with God.

The Martyrologium Romanum commemorates this day the living prototype of the believer who trusts when sight fails.

The Fathers of the Church, meditating on the figure of Abraham, found in him the matrix of the entire spiritual life: obedience, detachment, hope, prayer, and the prophetic anticipation of Christ.

St. Irenaeus of Lyons, that earliest heir of apostolic tradition, sees Abraham as the first man who “by faith received the covenant” (Adv. Haer. IV.21.3). For Irenaeus, the patriarch’s life is a pre-gospel. The promise that “in thy seed shall all nations be blessed” already contains the mystery of Christ:

“In the faith of Abraham the Incarnation was prefigured, for his seed is Christ, by whom the blessing comes upon the nations.”

Thus the Old and New Covenants are not opposed but organically one: the faith of the Patriarch flowering in the faith of the Church. The ancient journey from Ur to Canaan prefigures the Church’s pilgrimage from the world to the heavenly Jerusalem.

Ambrose, writing two centuries later, reads that same journey as the itinerary of every Christian soul. In De Abraham (I.5) he comments:

“Voca te Deus ut exeas de terra tua, hoc est de corpore tuo.”

God calls you, he says, to go forth from your own land—that is, from the body and from earthly desires. The geographical exodus becomes an interior migration. For Ambrose, Ur signifies the darkness of ignorance and sensuality, while Canaan, “the land which I will show thee,” is the contemplation of divine things. The Christian must leave behind his “kindred,” that is, worldly attachments, to enter the promised rest of charity. Abraham is thus the archetype of the monk and of every soul who departs from the familiar in search of the invisible.

St. Jerome, his contemporary, adopts the same spiritual reading. Commenting on Genesis 12, he sees in the command egredere an ascetical principle: to “go forth” is to transcend the passions and climb the ladder of virtues. He insists that Abraham obeyed nuda fide—with naked faith—since he did not know where he was going. In that ignorance, Jerome finds a sign of perfect trust:

“He believed, not because he saw, but because he heard.”

The life of faith, for Jerome, begins when one surrenders the map and lets God direct the steps.

Origen, in his Homilies on Genesis, discerns in Abraham’s offering of Isaac a revelation of resurrection faith. The text of Genesis says that Abraham set out “on the third day.” For Origen, this is no accident: the third day announces the Resurrection. “Abraham knew,” he writes,

“that God was able to raise his son from the dead; therefore he offered him, and received him back as a figure.”

The knife raised over Isaac is the shadow of Calvary; the ram caught by its horns in the thicket is the humanity of Christ entangled in the thorns of mortality. Origen’s Abraham is the first believer in Easter. His faith does not end in the renunciation of the beloved but in the hope of restoration beyond death.

Augustine, gathering these strands, makes Abraham the type of both priest and victim. In City of God (XVI.32) he observes that “Isaac, carrying the wood for the sacrifice, was a figure of Christ bearing His Cross.” The two “walked together” (ambulabant pariter), signifying not “synodality” but the unity of will between Father and Son in the mystery of redemption. For Augustine, every detail of the Genesis narrative is prophetic: the mountain signifies the height of divine love, the altar the Cross, the fire the Holy Spirit, the obedient son the incarnate Word. Abraham’s sacrifice thus contains in embryo the whole Triduum. In another place he remarks that Abraham

“offered in figure what God would truly perform,”

since the Father would not spare His own Son but deliver Him up for us all.

St. John Chrysostom, preaching in Antioch, contemplates the same scene with moral fervor. He calls Abraham “the father of faith and the master of obedience.” What moved God, he says, was not the knife but the heart:

“He raised the blade, yet the sacrifice was complete already in his mind.”

Chrysostom insists that such faith is the root of all Christian virtue, since it trusts the divine command even when reason cannot see the purpose. The patriarch becomes, in his words, “the first fruits of the faithful.” Isaac’s silence and consent make him a type of Christ’s meekness; Abraham’s readiness prefigures the priesthood of believers who offer their lives as a living sacrifice.

For the Alexandrian Fathers, the story of Mamre, the hospitality of Abraham to the three mysterious visitors, was no mere moral tale but a theophany. St. Basil the Great, in De Spiritu Sancto (IX.22), writes that Abraham

“adored one and welcomed three,”

discerning dimly the mystery of the Trinity. His table beneath the oak of Mamre foreshadows the Eucharistic table of the Church, where God sits with His friends. In the tent of the patriarch, the invisible God begins to be seen; in his hospitality the image of divine communion is revealed.

Gregory of Nyssa, brother of Basil, deepens this mystical sense. In his Life of Moses (II.29), he compares Abraham’s faith to the soul’s epektasis, the perpetual stretching forth toward what lies beyond.

“He goes out, not knowing whither he goes because the good which he seeks has no limit.”

Faith for Gregory is not static possession but endless movement toward the Infinite. Abraham’s pilgrimage is the emblem of the soul’s unending ascent into God.

The image of the sinus Abrahae, the “bosom of Abraham,” provided another field of reflection. Tertullian, in De Anima (55), imagined it as a place of rest and refreshment for the righteous dead, a kind of vestibule of paradise awaiting the Redeemer. Ambrose later ennobled the image in De obitu Valent. 72:

Sinus Abrahae requies aeternae pacis… the bosom of Abraham is the repose of eternal peace.”

Augustine, commenting on the parable of Lazarus, identified it with the hidden life of the Church, where the faithful departed rest in the promise of resurrection. Thus Abraham remains father not only of the living but of those who sleep in hope.

Throughout patristic literature, Abraham’s greatness is never detached from humility. St. Gregory the Great, reflecting in Moralia in Iob 5.3.6 on his intercession for Sodom, marvels that

“he who was a friend of God called himself dust and ashes”

Faith and humility, for Gregory, are inseparable: to believe is to acknowledge one’s nothingness before the Almighty. The same Abraham who converses familiarly with God bows to the earth in reverence. His confidence is born not of presumption but of trust in divine mercy.

Thus, from Irenaeus to Gregory, Abraham stands as the common ancestor of all theology.

He is the first contemplative, the first missionary, the first intercessor, the first pilgrim of faith. His life forms the grammar of revelation: calling, promise, testing, and blessing. In him the Fathers discern the whole outline of salvation history already traced in miniature. He believed, and it was counted to him as righteousness; he obeyed, and the nations were blessed through him.

The Church, reading Genesis in the light of Christ, sees in Abraham the mirror of her own faith, walking through this world as a stranger, building altars on the way, awaiting the city whose builder and maker is God.

In fact, speaking of altars, the Roman liturgy invokes Abraham as both witness and intercessor.

In the Roman Canon the priest prays:

“Supra quae propitio ac sereno vultu respicere digneris, et accepta habere, sicut accepta habere dignatus es munera pueri tui iusti Abel, et sacrificium patriarchae nostri Abrahae, et quod tibi obtulit summus sacerdos tuus Melchisedech.”

Here Abraham stands between Abel and Melchisedech as the perfect figure of priestly faith: he offers not the fruits of the earth but the beloved son, prefiguring the Eucharistic oblation of Christ Himself.

Posted in Saints: Stories & Symbols | Tagged
3 Comments

9 October – Feast of St. John Henry Newman – WDTPRS: Collect for Newman and “Lead, Kindly Light”

Here is the COLLECT for the Feast of  St. John Henry Newman Memorial, anniversary of the day, 9 October 1845, when he was brought into greater light and received into Holy Catholic Church at Littlemore.

Pope Leo XIV will proclaim St. John Henry to be the 38th Doctor of the Church on 1 November.

LATIN:
Deus, qui beátum Ioánnem Henrícum, presbýterum,
lumen benígnum tuum sequéntem
pacem in Ecclésia tua inveníre contulísti,
concéde propítius,
ut, eius intercessióne et exémplo,
ex umbris et imagínibus
in plenitúdinem veritátis tuae perducámur
.

The use of confero might raise an eyebrow.  Buried in the entry for confero in our Lewis & Short Dictionary we find “With the access. idea of application or communication, to devote or apply something to a certain purpose, to employ, direct, confer, bestow upon, give, lend, grant, to transfer to (a favorite word with Cicero.).”  The problem is that contulisti here has the sense of “grant”, but then we also have to deal with concede down the line, which also normally comes off as “grant”.  So, I will stick with “grant” for confero and then use something else for concede.

An imago is certainly an “image” or “copy”, it is also a “ghost, likeness, echo, semblance, appearance” or “shade”.

WDTPRS LITERAL VERSION:

O God, who granted blessed John Henry,
a priest following Your kindly light,
to find peace in Your Church,
graciously vouchsafe,
by his intercession and example,
that we may be drawn from shadows and shades
into the fullness of Your truth.

You will notice right away the reference to the a poem written by John Henry in 1833 later rendered as a popular hymn, Lead Kindly Light.

You might know the story of its writing.  When the young Newman was traveling in Italy he fell ill. He experienced a time of great emotional and spiritual discouragement. When a nurse asked him what troubled him, he responded, “I have work to do in England.”  Eventually he got passage on a boat home, but they were constrained to heave to, slowed by a thick fog and nearby cliffs.  Trapped in the fog, on June 16 Newman wrote The Pillar of the Cloud:

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home—
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see

The distant scene—one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor pray’d that Thou
Shouldst lead me on.
I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,

Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on,
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

A version of the hymn, just to help you ponder.

 

OFFICIAL VERSION:
O God, who bestowed on the Priest blessed John Henry Newman
the grace to follow your kindly light
and find peace in your Church;
graciously grant that,
through his intercession and example,
we may be led out of shadows and images
into the fulness of your truth.

In this world we walk by faith, not by sight.

We peer towards mystery through the dark glass,…

…through the crack in the rock,…

…through chink in the garden wall.

The hope of Christians draws us to the One who will draw us forth from this shadowy place into His marvelous light.

Holy Church is our surest path to that which is good and true and beautiful.

Of interest is that  “ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem” was John Henry Newman’s epitaph.

However we put this, “from shadows and shades into truth”, “from out of shadows and reflections into truth”, “from shadows and phantasms into truth”, “from illusions and approximations into reality”… this has a rather Platonic ring to it.

For Newman this certainly also meant something like “from the Church of England and from Anglo-Catholic to the Roman Catholic Church”.

You might imagine yourself, if you have your Platonic hat on, moving away from the back of the cave, turning around, and heading out of the cave to your source.

At the heart of the Platonic and Augustinian paradigm is conversion – the turning point at which we, who are moving out and away, begin to return.

This is a paradigm found in many of the Latin Church’s more ancient prayers.  It is also found in the experience of the penitent and of the worshiper at Holy Mass.

Posted in Liturgy Science Theatre 3000, Saints: Stories & Symbols, SESSIUNCULA | Tagged
2 Comments

Another report of pain in the Diocese of Charlotte

I warmly recommend this piece at Crisis for your reading and your wide sharing with all whom you know.

You may know the facts. The Bishop of Charlotte suppressed the people who had a Traditional Latin Mass in different locations, and then ghettoized them far away in a tacky little fixer-up chapel which he openly said would not be big enough. He told them than can’t take up a collection, which means improvements will be hard, and they must continue – above all – to pay at their territorial parishes. He said he would accompany them. He wasn’t there on Sunday. But there was a sign on the door that said they shouldn’t take photos.

Such loving care.

Read the piece at Crisis.

A few bits…

[…]

But when Bishop Martin shut down the Traditional Latin Mass in all parishes and forced those communities to disband, I felt compelled to join those who were banished to a remote chapel, miles away from the highway, at the end of a series of two-lane roads surrounded by cornfields. If we are supposed to be with those who grieve, then this was the place to find them. In order to express true compassion—from the Latin cum passio—one must suffer with. It requires presence. Despite Bishop Martin’s claim to his sheep that he would “commit to walk with” them, he was noticeably absent.

The holy water font was a simple, wide basin placed on a small circular wooden table just through the main entrance. For those who traveled from ornate churches like St. Ann’s in Charlotte or Our Lady of Grace in Greensboro, this must have felt like being in exile. The overhead lighting was tacky and more appropriate for a stage than a sanctuary. One could easily envision a band in place of the altar.

[…]

It was claimed that having the Traditional Latin Mass at parishes was divisive. So, paradoxically, faithful Catholics were forcibly divided from their parish communities and sent long distances away, that they may not worship in the same spaces as their neighbors.

[…]

Posted in SESSIUNCULA | Tagged
17 Comments

“OF COURSE!”

Today I have been working on the next offering for over at One Peter Five (a weekly commentary on upcoming Sunday Mass texts with the TLM).   I had a funny image flash through my mind.  It wouldn’t have fit in what I was writing there, but maybe here it has a place.

What was I writing?

Paul says that the Corinthians – and we, their distant heirs – have been “enriched with all speech and knowledge,” so as to lack no spiritual gift while we wait for the Lord’s revealing. This enrichment is not mere eloquence or erudition but the infusion of faith that blossoms into wisdom. … Isn’t St. Paul’s paean of thanksgiving also for us a summons to vigilance? It is we who have been magnificently enriched with faith and knowledge. Consider what we have now, which has been handed down with love through countless generations! We have the treasury of the saints, the witness of martyrs, the splendor of the sacraments. We have ever clarified teaching, the deepening of doctrine, the outward expression of both in our polished and tended and perfected sacred liturgical worship.

To squander these gifts would be a sin against gratitude. To tamper, tinker, and trivialize them would be a crime against God and neighbor.

Paul expected much of his Corinthians who were just in their first steps in this journey called the Church. We, on the other hand, possess centuries of reflection, the accumulated fruit of our forebears’ contemplation, sweat, blood and tears.

Would, therefore, Paul not expect even more from us?

So… I’m writing away and I start thinking about the pseudo-archeologizing liturgical nitwits out there who stand in contempt of the solemn rites of the Roman Church in favor of a pristine clay platter and cup, burlap, and a chunk of crumbly and yet still oddly unchewable bread.

My mind drifts to St. Paul, perhaps coming out of something like that, though I’m sure they would have tried to use their very best things for their worship, suddenly being transported into the middle of our Solemn Mass last night for the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary.

YouTube thumbnailYouTube icon

There stands Paul, in Santissima Trinità dei Pellegrini.  He sees the symbols of Trinity everywhere, including the magnificent painting by Guido Reni.  “What’s a Rosary?”  An angel illumines his mind.  The vestments, clergy in choir, baroque polyphony – the Gregorian chant sounds kind of familiar – the accoutrement of the altar, dozens of seminarians in choir dress, the architecture itself.  Familiar psalm verses and unfamiliar… Creed? Again the angel illumines his mind.  Incense, he gets that.  The two fold consecration!

Taking it all in he suddenly straightens up, slaps his forehead and cries,

כַּמּוּבָן!

Posted in Lighter fare |
1 Comment

Note from a reader: first confession in 19 years! Wherein Fr. Z rants.

I nag you to…

GO TO CONFESSION!

I received a note today which made my day.

Father Z,

Today, on the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, I went to Adoration and Confession. It was my first time going to Confession in nineteen years! When I said as much, Father exclaimed, “Wow! Nineteen years! God must have been chasing you for a while.” That He has. I talked myself out of going for too many years and I am sorry it took so long. Thank you for your persistent reminders to go. There are not enough words to express my gratitude.

May God bless you immensely!

You get …

Everyone, for the love of God…

GO TO CONFESSION!

There is no sin that we little mortals can commit that our all-powerful and loving God will not forgive, provided we ask for forgiveness.

The Sacrament of Penance was established by Jesus Christ.  He intended that this sacrament be the ordinary means through which we return to the state of grace.

No matter what you have done, Christ – in the person of the priests in the confessional – washes that sin from your soul with His own Blood.

Once you have received absolution, those sins will not be held against you in your judgement.  They are gone.   You will remember them, but their guilt is no longer with you.  You have to do penance for them, but the sins are removed, they are not just covered over or sort of kind of forgotten.  They are eradicated from your soul. They are no more.

GO TO CONFESSION!

“I absolve you from your sins…”

When was the last time you heard those words from the priest after confessing all your sins in kind and number?   Hmmm?

While we live we have the chance to get things right with ourselves, our neighbors and our God.

Get things right.

GO TO CONFESSION!

Fathers, if you don’t now offer decent times for confessions in the parish entrusted to you and if you don’t preach about this important sacrament and about sin, you are probably going to go to Hell.  And Bishops…  I fear for you if you are not promoting this important sacrament in your dioceses.  Think about your judgment.

You also had better…

GO TO CONFESSION!

Posted in GO TO CONFESSION, Just Too Cool, Our Catholic Identity, Wherein Fr. Z Rants | Tagged
3 Comments

The Altar of Chair in St. Peter’s Basilica. What a shame.

What a shame that altar was torn out.  The Altar of Chair in St. Peter’s Basilica.

I was there that morning and saw them doing it.  They hadn’t gotten the crime finished before we priests were about to say our morning Masses.  The basilica personnel tried to shoo us away.

Having the altar THERE was a theological statement. Although, having the hideous Paul VI altar disconnected and freestanding is also a theological choice, isn’t it. For a while there was a better Cranmer version. Now the hideous Paul VI is back.

 

Posted in SESSIUNCULA | Tagged
3 Comments

An act of reparation for the demonic disgracing of St. Peter’s Basilica

Last year, I posted from 4-7 October about making acts of reparation for the sacrilegious antics with the demon “Pachamama” in the Vatican Gardens and even upon the main alter of St. Peter’s Basilica.  This year, the 4-6th slip by me.

But today is the Feast of Our Lady of the Holy Rosary.

Please consider saying a Rosary in reparation for the horrors perpetrated in the Basilica, not only with the demon idol and demonic bowl (on Oct 27) back in 2019.

You might include a this, from an angel who appeared to the visionaries of Fatima. It is sometimes called the Angel Prayer.  Include that for reparation for the unseemly actions by those in favor of sodomy which were perpetrated in the Roman Church bearing the Most Holy Name, the Gesù, and then in the Vatican Basilica under the pretext of observing the Jubilee Year.

Act of Reparation to The Holy Trinity

O Most Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, I adore Thee profoundly. I offer Thee the most precious Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ present in all the tabernacles of the world, in reparation for the outrages, sacrileges and indifferences by which He is offended. By the infinite merits of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary I beg the conversion of poor sinners.

Posted in Hard-Identity Catholicism | Tagged
1 Comment

ROME 25/10 – Day 10: ASK FATHER: “What is the Ave Maria Bell?”

7:12 was when the chariot of Helios began to grace the Roman skies.

18:44 is when Pyrois, Eous, Aethon, and Phlegon will seeks their nightly stable.

19:00 is when the Ave Maria Bell should ring.

Yeah… it’s day 10, not day 8.  I got off somehow.  I guess I need remedial counting.

Yesterday I ran into a priest of my native place whom I haven’t seen for some years. At first I didn’t recognize him! We had a nice catch up. In the course of our stroll and conversing, he wondered what the Ave Maria Bell is all about. Since I usually explain the bell at least once during my Roman Sojourns, here we go again!

QUAERITUR:

“What is the Ave Maria Bell you keep mentioning?” 

The Ave Maria Bells signals the end of the “religious” day and the beginning of “religious” night.

It is rung in the ball park of 30 minutes after sunset.  Usually the Ave Maria is rung in a way not dissimilar to how the Angelus (Regina Caeli now) is rung…  3x… 4x…5x… 1x.

If the Ave Maria rings at, say, 19:00h (7PM), then 18:00h (6PM) would start the 23rd hour of the day and 19:00 would start the 1st hour of the new day’s “evening and morning”.   In Roman churches, Vespers were usually sung about an hour before the Ave Maria Bell.  Hence, in the example above, at about 18:00 at the 23rd hour.

What was the Ave Maria Bell doing for the Roman Curia?

In the Roman Curia, Cardinals who were Prefects (the offices of the Congregations had/have throne rooms, btw) and other “pezzi grossi” around the place would receive visits for an hour after the Ave Maria. An hour after the Ave Maria was rung to signal the change of religious days, another bell was struck to denote the 1st hour of the new day.

The Ave Maria could also follow the sun, and ring precisely one half hour after sunset.   So, following the sun strictly, the solar Ave Maria this evening would ring at 19:14.

To simplify this for the Curia – ’cause who had watches, right? – they adopted 15 minute cycles.  We are in the 19:00 cycle now.  Actually we are in the 18:00 cycle, which lasts from 4-13 October.  BUT… there’s the “ora legale” here, the European “daylight savings” in force which moved the hour hand forward.   On 2 November this year “ora legale” is over and we will turn our clocks back to normal.

This also ties into the old Six Hour Clocks, you can still see around Rome.  The Six Hour Clock, which divided the day in 4 parts and made a complete revolution every 6 hours, influenced the recitation of the Angelus at 06:00 – 12:00 – 18:00.   These Six Hour Clocks were adjusted daily according to solar noon.

Here’s one:

Solar noon was tracked carefully, because that is when contacts and appointments went into effect.  In the Church today, appointments still generally are designated as starting at noon.

For Solar Noon in Rome, there is a solar calendar made by a shaft of light through a tiny hole at the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli by the Piazza della Repubblica.   The light spot on the floor traces the sun’s analemma over the course of the year across a 45 meter long meridian line.  It also could track certain stars, such as Sirius, the Dog Star.  Clement XI (+1721) commissioned it to check the accuracy of the Gregorian Calendar (1582). 

That sun clock was used to determine solar noon for all of Rome: a signal would be sent from that church by means of a flag, watched for by telescope across town from the Gianicolo Hill where a cannon fired to sound noon.  It still does, everyday!  BOOM!

John L. Heilbron has a book on churches and cathedrals as solar observatories.  It is called The Sun In The Church.   Very cool.

And now back to other things.

Charlotte… yeah…

I always enjoy walking by this little church in the Via Giulia.  Why?

Because they haven’t updated the papal coat-of-arms since 1914 when Giacomo della Chiesa was elected as Benedict XV.

It is customary in Rome to place the papal arms over the main door, or, if the church has an assigned cardinal, place their arms to each side of the door.

This is also done by embassies to the Holy See.

Here, along the Via della Conciliazione, there seems to be some confusion.  Different embassies sharing the space.

Amusing: Argentina is up to date!

And now a different thing altogether.

In chessy news… there is now info about the 2025 FIDE World Cup HERE

NB: I’ll hold comments with solutions ’till the next day so there won’t be “spoilers” for others.

Priestly chess players, drop me a line. HERE

White to move and mate in 4. Good luck.

What is the tactic called that you have to use?

Posted in SESSIUNCULA |
2 Comments

Diabolical Contagion – 17th Sunday after Pentecost – WDTPRS

falling into hellIs this prayer appropriate today or what?!?

This Sunday’s Collect prayer – in the Vetus Ordo:

Da, quaesumus, Domine, populo tuo diabolica vitare contagia: et te solum Deum pura mente sectari.

So might say, “Why look at a prayer from last Sunday?”

Firstly, in a sense the prayers from Sunday are retained during the week that follows except when there is a Feast Day that outweighs the feria.  This week we have beautiful feasts every day.  Nevertheless our Sunday orations are there as a subtext.  Also, if the prayer is good, then it is a good prayer.  Simply put.  Moreover, from Sunday through, say Wednesday evening, it is a good idea to go back and review the Sunday orations and readings, to reflect on them and ask how they may be shaping your life or challenging you to make adjustments.   A brief encounter with your Sunday Mass formulary isn’t enough.  This is also way having the same formularies each year, rather than a cycle of three, is helpful.  Repetita iuvant!

Back to Sunday’s Collect for the 17th Sunday after Pentecost.

Da, quaesumus, Domine,
populo tuo diabolica vitare contagia:
et te solum Deum pura mente sectari.

So dense!  Concise.

The phrase diabolica vitare contagia is a glory of the Latin Church’s millennial life of prayer.

Note the wonder assonance and the separation of diabolica from contagia by the verb, a use of hyberbaton.

This Collect, used for centuries in the post-Tridentine Missale Romanum, is in ancient prayer books such as the Liber Sacramentorum Gellonensis, a form of the Gelasian Sacramentary.  It appears as the Collect for the Sunday after the Autumn Ember days (Spring in the Southern climes, though that wasn’t a consideration of the ancients).  As such, it would have been a time of prayer and fasting and for ordinations.

Let’s check our vocabulary to see if we can find treasures beneath the surface.

I am sure you know the words “contagion” and “contamination”.  In Latin we have, as our steadfast Lewis & Short Dictionary informs us, feminine contagio, onis, and neuter contagium, ii, or contamen, inis, which mean “a touching, contact, touch, in a good or bad sense”.  It comes then to indicate “a contact with something physically or morally unclean, a contagion, infection” and thence “an infection, pollution, vicious companionship or intercourse, participation, contamination, etc.”.  Surely those of you who were educated by the sisters or brothers lo those many moons ago in Catholic schools were warned to “avoid the company of bad friends”.  Not only is your reputation tainted with their stains but you subject yourself to their “contamination” and the near occasion of sin.

Go with bad friends, and you go down.

We won’t get into the complicated idea of mens, which can mean “mind”, but also “heart, soul”, in fact the whole of the human person in some contexts.  But we can glance at purus, the adjective for, basically, “clean, pure, i. e. free from any foreign, esp. from any contaminating admixture”.  Obviously, this can refer not only to physical cleanliness, but also moral faultlessness.  There are juridical and religious overtones as well.  For example, for the ancient Romans a thing which is purus, such as a locus purus, a “pure place”, was not just undefiled, it was unconsecrated, not sacer.  On the other hand, purus does also mean “undefiled”, in the sense that nothing dead had been there.  There had never been a funeral or burial, etc.  It is interesting how the Romans got down to brass tacks.

Then we have the verbs vitare and sectari.  While a sector, m. – the noun – is a “cutpurse”, the sort of bad friend you don’t want to follow around, the verb sector, deponent (passive form but active meaning) is “to follow continually or eagerly, in a good or bad sense; to run after, attend, accompany; to follow after, chase, pursue”.   On the other hand, a vitor is, in fact, just a “cooper; basket-maker”. We are interested in vito, which is not the name of a character in The Godfather (well… it is and it isn’t).  The verb vito means “to shun, seek to escape, avoid, evade”.  The word sort of looks like it should be related to something having to do with “life”, vita.  In reality, however, vito is shortend from vicito, having the root vic-, related to the ancient root wik in Greek eikô (“to yield”).

The important thing to follow, and not avoid, is that in our prayer there are contrasting pairs: contamination v. purity, avoidance v. association.

Each pair reveals our need to make choices and to persevere in what is right.

LITERAL TRANSLATION:

Grant, O Lord, unto Your people, to shun diabolical contamination: and with a pure soul to follow You, the only God.

As you can guess, this collect did not survive the scalpel-wielding experts of the Consilium, who sliced and diced our orations under the surveillance of the late then-Fr. Annibale Bugnini.   So, dreary!  All that out-dated stuff about the devil.  It was not in the typical edition of 1970 or the edito altera of 1975.

Then a miracle occurred.

The third edition, the 2002 Missale Romanum includes this Collect, though in nearly complete obscurity.   It took me a while to hunt it up in the 2002MR.  If you are interested, look in the section Missae et orationes pro variis necessitatibus vel ad diversa, subsection Ad diversa, 48. In quaecumque necessitate, scheme “C”, “Aliae orationes (shortcut, go to p. 1152).  The 1970 and 1975MR, both, had two schemes for Masses In quacumque necessitate (“In whatever necessity”). In the 2002MR a third was added.

The redactors of the newest edition added quite a few things, such as new schemes for vigils of important feasts and the “Prayer over the People” on the days of Lent.  It is as if they recognized that too much had been lost to the Novus Ordo.

Please, Pope Leo!  Over turn Taurina cacata!

CURRENT ICEL (2011):

Grant, we pray, O Lord, that your people may avoid the contagion of the devil and follow you, the only God, in purity of heart.

As I read and reread the Latin, and then the literal English version, the Biblical imagery of faithlessness as “adultery” or “prostitution” came to mind.  The relationship between the People and God was conceived as an exclusive covenant like a marriage bond.

When the People of Israel were faithless to God they are described as “going with”, so to speak, false idols, “whoring after” other gods.  Think for a moment of Jeremiah 3:6-11 wherein the people go up the mountains or under every tree like a prostitute.  

Could that pertain to some leaders and assemblages of God’s Holy People today?

I digress.

It seems to me that we are dealing in this prayer with the time-hallowed warning of Christians to shun the three great temptations that corrupt the rational soul (mens) and pull it away from communion with the Holy Trinity.  The three contaminations – present in the Lord’s temptations in the wilderness – are mundus, caro et diabolus, “the world, the flesh, and the devil”.

A solid reference to the trio is found in a sermon of a pseudo-Augustine, but it becomes a solid reference in late-antique and mediaeval spiritual thought.  The influential theologian Peter Abelard (+1142) puts it succinctly in his Exposition of the Lord’s Prayer: “Tria autem sunt quae nos tentant, caro, mundus, diabolus… For there are three things which try us: the world, the flesh, the devil” (petitio vi).  St. Bernard of Clairvaux (+1153) speaks of this deadly trio, as does St. Thomas Aquinas (+1274).  It is no surprise that the post-Tridentine Missale would include this prayer, for this was part of the warp and weft of Catholic spirituality.

The Sixth Session of the Council of Trent wrote, with heavy reliance on St. Paul, in its 1547 Decree on Justification about perseverance:

He that shall persevere to the end, he shall be saved, (Matt 10:22; 24:13) which cannot be obtained from anyone except from Him who is able to make him stand who stands, (Rom 14:4) that he may stand perseveringly, and to raise him who falls, let no one promise himself herein something as certain with an absolute certainty, though all ought to place and repose the firmest hope in God’s help.  For God, unless men themselves fail in His grace, as He has begun a good work, so will He perfect it, working to will and to accomplish. (Phil 1:6, 2:13)  Nevertheless, let those who think themselves to stand, take heed lest they fall, (cf. 1 Cor 10:12) and with fear and trembling work out their salvation, (Phil 2:12) in labors, in watchings, in almsdeeds, in prayer, in fastings and chastity. For knowing that they are born again unto the hope of glory, ( cf. 1 Pet 1:3) and not as yet unto glory, they ought to fear for the combat that yet remains with the flesh, with the world and with the devil, in which they cannot be victorious unless they be with the grace of God obedient to the Apostle who says: We are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh; for if you live according to the flesh, you shall die, but if by the spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh, you shall live. (Rom 8:12ff)

The language, and therefore the concepts, of those formative ages of our Catholic faith and spirituality are very much at risk today.  But it is being recovered and reconsidered, especially in the wake of Pope Benedict’s efforts to reinvigorate our Catholic identity in continuity with our profound past.

Of course, there are those who vigorously seek to snuff out all mention of these categories. It is unfashionable in many circles to speak things so distasteful as the sort of temptation to which you can’t, with just a sly wink and hint of naughty struggle, simply give into along with everyone else.

To remind people of sin, guilt, and their eternal consequences is now rude, especially from pulpits in many parishes and cathedrals.  If you speak of the devil and sinful temptations, and the contamination of the soul – as if it isn’t always and automatically pure – you are considered a throwback to an era before modern man grew up.

“No longer do we grovel!  The old bogey-devil won’t drive us down to our knees!  (But then neither does the Blessed Sacrament.)  How feudal! I choose what my boundaries are.  I choose when to receive Communion, with our without reference to the “official” church.”

As a consequence, what sense does it make in some circles now to speak of “perseverance”?

When we are our gods, what sense does it make to speak of all these distasteful, outdated categories with which shriveled up old men tried to scare us, as a wicked uncles might terrify mere children?

I respond saying that the Enemy of the soul seeks our destruction. 

He seeks to thwart God’s design and our own best destiny of bliss in heaven by guiding us away from the only God down into false gods, created things. The Enemy seeks to accompany us, lead us, delicately into the ways of the world of which he is the prince, tempt us in our appetites and passions, so hard to control after the Fall he originally provoked, draw you into infidelity.

And for what?

In his eternal sickness of angelic malice Satan yearns to crow over your fallen soul, damned to eternal separation from God in Hell amidst the unending agony to boom heavenwards in his own twisted oration: “SEE! Here’s another victory You will now not have!”

Each day sets choices before us.  Most of the time they are rather simple, even black and white. Only rarely are we ever truly at a loss as to what is right or what is the wrong thing to do.  Our habits and passions make our choices more difficult, as does the wound to our intellect.

But Holy Church gives us the guidance of authority, which steers our still marvelous ability to reason.  We have not just intellect, but our Faith as well.  We are not alone. God gives us graces.

Today’s prayer gives us insight in an important dimension of our lives: contamination in sin v. purity with God – avoidance of sin and the Enemy v. association with God.

Posted in WDTPRS | Tagged
5 Comments

Your Sunday Sermon Notes – 17th Sunday after Pentecost (N.O.: 27th) 2025

Too many people today are without good, strong preaching, to the detriment of all. Share the good stuff.

Was there a GOOD point made in the sermon you heard at your Mass of obligation for this 17th Sunday after Pentecost, the 27th Sunday of Ordinary Time in the Novus Ordo.

Tell about attendance especially for the Traditional Latin Mass.

Any local changes or (hopefully good) news?

A couple thoughts about the sign of the cross: HERE  A taste…

[…]

If you will forgive a final digression, Archbishop Marco Antonio de Dominis (1560–1624) started out as a Jesuit. While remaining a believer in the Catholic Church he became convinced that the papacy was leading people astray. Disillusioned by curial politics and the Venetian–Habsburg struggle, he broke with Rome in 1616 and went to England, welcomed by James I. He abjured papal obedience and was made Dean of Windsor. In London he issued De republica ecclesiastica (1617–19), a conciliarist critique of papal primacy. As a naturalist he also offered an early explanation of the rainbow in De radiis visus et lucis. Hmmm… rainbow… Jesuit…. Eventually, he sought reconciliation with the Pope in 1622 and Gregory XV gave him a pension. But Gregory died, the pension ceased, and the irritated prelate relapsed. He was imprisoned by the Inquisition and died in Castel Sant’Angelo in 1624. A trial was held for his corpse in the Dominican Church Santa Maria sopra Minerva. The Inquisition ordered his body to be taken from the coffin, dragged through the streets of Rome, and publicly burned with his books in the Campo de’ Fiori about five minutes from where I type. That’s where my vegetable vendor, butcher and bakery are, along with my favorite evening cocktail place directly across from the statue of another heretic who got himself burned, the weird Giordano Bruno. Just a brief reminder about the Church’s perennial teaching on capital punishment.

[…]

Posted in Sermons | Tagged
2 Comments