New Liturgical Movement recently posted a translation that I did of O Redemptor, sume carmen, the hymn for the procession of the holy oils at the Chrism Mass, at the request of Father Samuel Weber. The Latin of the hymn has some wonderful wordplay that I found impossible to capture, but it didn’t turn out too bad.

I got a new red chasuble today. It was a very reasonable price, but when I saw the tag on it, I found out that the place I got it simply resold it, so it turns out that I could have gotten it even cheaper. In any case, the quality is a bit better than I expected. It’s not top-shelf, but it’s decent, and it looks great.

I debated with myself about whether to buy any vestments at all. I mean, whatever parish I’m assigned to will have something. On the other hand, I thought it would be nice to own at least one set of decent vestments. Plus, many parishes will be missing things like burses, chalice veils, and maniples. The next question was: what color? Well, considering that my first Mass as a deacon was Pentecost, and my first Mass as a priest will be … Pentecost, I thought red made sense.

Here I am, perhaps getting ready to pray the Oramus te, Domine:

The front:

And, the back:

The design is a pelican.

The colors look kind of weird in these photos, it’s actually a really nice red. Here is a more accurate shot of the color:

Advent is my favorite season of the Church year. The sense of expectation and longing for the arrival of Jesus Christ needs to be emphasized. It reminds me of how privileged we are to live in the time of the New Covenant. Generations of people longed for the coming of Christ into the world, (cf. Mt 13:17) but we live in the time of the fulfillment of that promise. Our participation in their waiting leads us to be more grateful for what Jesus has done for us out of pure graciousness. We also look forward to the end of the age and the return of Christ in glory. We look forward to our own death.

Advent also has some of the best music in the Church’s treasury of sacred music. Music for the Divine Office (e.g., the Conditor alme siderum or the O Antiphons) and the antiphons for Mass and other hymns, such as Rorate caeli, intertwine the themes of Advent with fitting musical expressions. We have some great English adaptations of this music as well, such as O Come, O Come Emmanuel or Creator of the Stars of Night.

Father Samuel Weber, director of the Institute of Sacred Music for the Archdiocese of St Louis, who resides at Kenrick Seminary, recently asked me to translate two Advent hymns: Verbum salutis omnium and Magnis prophetae vocibus from the Liturgy of the Hours. I always enjoy translating such things for Father Weber, and it’s a spiritually edifying challenge to render as closely as possible the meaning of the words in English while achieving something that is singable (and rhymes).

Below are my adaptations of these hymns for singing in English.

First, Verbum salutis omnium:

Second, Magnis prophetae vocibus:

I’m a big fan of the organic development of the liturgy. I think it’s often very important to keep things that started out serving a practical purpose but eventually developed into part of the liturgy itself, taking on a theological meaning in the process. (For example, the dismissal: Ite, Missa est or Flectamus genua or the amice.) These details, even if they don’t seem necessary any more, still have their theological meaning and also connect us with the past.

I wonder sometimes whether the “extra-liturgical” things that have become common would, given a few centuries, ever be codified as part of the liturgy itself.

If things continue to develop without intervention, would the rubrics eventually include an instruction for the deacon to turn to the people after the announcements and give a monition to show a sign of appreciation for the choir? Relatis notitiis, diaconus ad populum conversus dicit Plaudite choro et sequitur plausus.) Would there be a vesting prayer for the wireless microphone? Would the extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion be required to process into the sanctuary in discreet groups, each group indicating to the congregation that X more are still needed, until all positions are filled?

Interesting thoughts.

So, I presided at a Communion service this morning. I preached a short homily basically about the difference between the service and Mass and the necessity of the priesthood/Eucharist for the existence of the parish community.

I really wanted to avoid having to preach on the Gospel reading for today:

Jesus said to them in reply,
“Have you not read what David did
when he and those who were with him were hungry?
How he went into the house of God, took the bread of offering,
which only the priests could lawfully eat.

I found this in Notitiae today (Not. 1 (1965) p. 190):

In << Ordinario Missae >> sicut in tota liturgia, inveniuntur aliquando formualae mixtae in persona plurali et in persona singulari. Haec varietas explicatur sive ex rationibus historicis, sive ex eo quod formulae sunt textus biblici, qui nequeunt mutari. Cum tales textus momentum habeant pro tota Ecclesia, et non tantum pro una alterave regione, instauratio generalis statuet an mutandi, substituendi vel omittendi sint, vel quaenam et quonam modo mutationes sint faciendae. Pro momento textus receptus fideliter tenendus et in linguas vernaculareas vertendus est. Ita, exempli gratia, textus biblici: << Ad Deum qui laetificat iuventutem meam >>, et << Domine, exaudi orationem meam >> haud verti possunt quasi dicerent: << iuventutem nostram, orationem nostram >>.

Idem dicendum de verbo Credo, quod nullo modo lingua vulgari reddi potest, quasi legeretur Credimus: esset mutatio conceptualis de qua iudicare et statuere debet << Consilium >>.

My translation:

In “The Ordinary of the Mass,” just as in the whole liturgy, formulae are sometimes found to be mixted in the plural and in the singular. This variety can be explained either by historical reasons or by the fact that the formulae are biblical texts, which cannot be changed. Since such texts are important for the whole Church and not only for one or another region, the general restoration should determine whether they should be changed, substituted, or omitted, and which changes should be made and in what way. For the moment, the received text must be faithfully retained and translated into the vernacular languages. So, for example the biblical texts, “To God who gives joy to my youth,” and “O Lord, hear my prayer” can scarcely be rendered as if they said: “our youth, our prayer.”

The same must be said of the word I believe, which in no way can be rendered in a common language, as if it read We believe: This would be a conceptual change about which the Consilium shoud decide and stipulate.

You can listen to me explain my thesis off-the-cuff in Latin to Msgr. Ramacciotti (OGG) or (MP3).

There are plenty of mistakes and awkward silences, so enjoy!

When there is to be a children’s liturgy of the word at Solemn Mass, a subdeacon, vested in tunicle but without maniple, processes in before the priest, deacon, and subdeacon. At a Sung Mass or a Low Mass, a lector may take the place of the subdeacon.

After the collect, the subdeacon of the children’s liturgy removes his tunicle and vests in a cope.

When the subdeacon of the Mass approaches the priest with the Epistularium, the other subdeacon approaches with the Epistularium ad parvulos. Both subdeacons kneel next to one another and receive the priest’s blessing.

As the subdeacon of the Mass turns to his proper place, the subdeacon of the children’s liturgy proceeds to the altar rail, accompanied by an acolyte with lighted candle.

When they reach the altar rail, the children of the parish who lack the use of reason approach two by two (bini et bini) and genuflect. They remain standing in formation as the subdeacon of the children’s liturgy leaves the sanctuary with the acolyte.

The priest turns, having begun the epistle at the altar, turns and gives a blessing.

The children genuflect with the subdeacon and proceed to the place where the children’s liturgy is to be held.

I’ve been reflecting a bit lately on ecclesiastical piety. Now, first of all, by piety, I mean a virtue related to justice which expresses the way we pay debts we cannot fulfill completely. It’s the kind of reverence and respect that we owe to God in a unique way and in a similar way to our parents, our country, etc. Clearly, then, we owe a special piety toward the Church who is our Mother and through whom we have the new life of grace.

One aspect of ecclesiastical piety is liturgical piety. Here it is: we ought to have a special respect, reverence, and even fear toward the liturgy of the Church and especially that Rite and Use to which we belong. I owe the Roman Rite a unique respect because of what it has given to me and moreover my belonging to it. This has practical implications. There is, for instance, something impious about a lack of respect for the Latin language. John Paul II said that the Church owes reverence to Latin (see Dominicae cenae, 10).

Sometimes at Holy Mass we hear bad music, which causes in me a type of sadness. Through reflection, I see that my aversion is twofold: the music is bad, and the music is not Roman. By way of analogy, imagine if the Star-Spangled Banner were replaced in practice with a contemporary pop song. That’s not just bad music, it’s not American! In the same way, with some of the stuff that we subject people to during Mass, I don’t know whether to be more offended as a human being because it’s ugly or as a Roman Rite Catholic because it’s not Roman.

If you think that TV dinner is tasteless, how much more offended would you be if someone tried to pass it off as your mom’s casserole?

Today at Vespers marks the beginning of the O Antiphons.

First up is O Sapientia (Liturgia horarum, vol I, p. 284):

O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia: veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.

My translation:

O Wisdom, which has proceeded from the mouth of the Most High, stretching from end to end, mightily and sweetly governing all things: Come to teach us the way of prudence.

You may recognize this from Wisdom 8:1.

On a side note, you may have noticed this morning that the reading at Lauds was missing “Piety” from the Isaiah 11 passage listing the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Here’s the passage as found in the LH (p. 281) taken from Isaiah 11:1-3a of Nova Vulgata:

Egredietur virga de stirpe Iesse, et flos de radice eius ascendet; et requiescet super eum spiritus Domini: spiritus sapientiae et intellectus, spiritus consilii et fortitudinis, spiritus scientiae et timoris Domini; et deliciae eius in timore Domini.

Compare that with the Vulgate version:

et egredietur virga de radice Iesse et flos de radice eius ascendet et requiescet super eum spiritus Domini spiritus sapientiae et intellectus spiritus consilii et fortitudinis spiritus scientiae et pietatis et replebit eum spiritus timoris Domini

I can’t believe they cut it from the New Vulgate. This is a crime.