In the Gospel account of the Annunciation in St. Luke’s Gospel, we hear that Mary will conceive Jesus in her womb in a wholly unique and miraculous way, by the power of the Holy Spirit.  The Archangel Gabriel explains this to Mary with the following words:

The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. (Luke 1:35)

It is that same power of the Holy Spirit that shows up in a special way as we enter into the Eucharistic Prayer.  The next of the seven main elements of the Eucharistic Prayer is what is called the epiclesis.  Here is how the General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes this element:

The epiclesis, in which, by means of particular invocations, the Church implores the power of the Holy Spirit that the gifts offered by human hands be consecrated, that is, become Christ’s Body and Blood, and that the unblemished sacrificial Victim to be consumed in Communion may be for the salvation of those who will partake of it. (GIRM, 79c)

It will be by the power of the Holy Spirit that, in a similar way, the Word will become flesh and dwell among us, as He did in the Incarnation.  Of course, we know the Annunciation and following birth of Jesus at Christmas focuses on the mystery of God becoming man, taking on our human flesh to redeem us.  At the Last Supper, when Jesus said: “This is my Body…this is my Blood”, He made it possible for Him to be present any time the Mass is celebrated until He comes again in glory.

The primary mystery being remembered at the Mass in the Passion of Christ, but there is a very real and significant connection to the mystery of the Incarnation at every Mass as well.  After all, the Jesus that is present on the altar, whom we consume in the Eucharist, is the same Christ who was conceived in Mary’s womb, born in Bethlehem, who suffered, died, rose, and ascended into Heaven.  It is the same Christ, and pondering this should astound us!  Any attempt to fully grasp this reality will fall short, but we receive this mystery with gratitude and love.  

But let me invite us to something even more profound at work here.  What makes this mystery possible is the power of the Holy Spirit.  And where the Holy Spirit is, there also is the Father and the Son – always, from before time began.  The three persons of the Trinity are never separate, never divided, but always working together, even though we may speak specifically of what the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit does.  The Catechism explains it this way:

Inseparable in what they are, the divine persons are also inseparable in what they do. But within the single divine operation each shows forth what is proper to him in the Trinity, especially in the divine missions of the Son’s Incarnation and the gift of the Holy Spirit. (CCC 267)

If your head is spinning, that is understandable!  The Trinity is difficult to understand, but at the same time, the Trinity is the central mystery of our faith.  It’s at the center of the Incarnation which we celebrate during these days, and it’s at the center of the Eucharist which we celebrate each day.  

In closing, I’d like to share a quote I came across a few years ago from St. Josemaria Escriva regarding the Trinity, and I think it also applies beautifully to the Incarnation and the Eucharist:

When people tell you that they don’t understand the Trinity and Unity, you should reply: I don’t understand it either, but I love it and venerate it. If I understood God’s greatness, if God fit into this poor head of mine, my God would be very small. And yet, He does fit — He wants to fit — in my heart, in the immense depth of my soul, which is immortal.

Let us marvel that God has become “small” so that we could receive Him, first as a child in Bethlehem, and now under the form of bread and wine so that He can come and live in our hearts forever.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: December 24^th 

One of the first papyri to enter the collection of the British Museum when it was founded in 1753 is a page from the Breviary of Margaret of York. As you can see, it is a lovingly decorated page from a breviary, and it’s rather incredible that it is from the mid-1400s. BUT, here’s the crazy detail: the decorations around the page are from the 1400s, but the page itself is from the late 500s! The handwriting we see here dates this page – of the homilies of Gregory the Great on the Gospels – back to the time that Gregory was still alive!

How did it end up in England, you ask?! Well, Pope St. Gregory the Great, in 596 sent the famous expedition of St. Augustine of Canterbury to the Land of the Angles to preach the Gospel, and it may very well be that those intrepid missionaries took with them a copy of Gregory’s homilies on the Gospels from just a few years before. One of these sermons was from February 10^th, 592 A.D., then the Holy Father for about 2 years, ascended the steps of the Basilica of San Clemente in Rome. It had already stood for about 200 years, and that particular building would stand for 400 more, so it was a venerable and beloved place. His sermon was 7000 words long, probably about an hour of profound and challenging words on Jesus’ proclamation from Matthew 22 that “many are called but few are chosen.” Approaching his ending though, he chose to leave his hearers, and us, with a lesson learned from his three aunts, all consecrated to the Lord, but only two of whom persevered to the end in their calling:

“My father had three sisters, all three consecrated virgins. One was called Tarsilla, the other Gordiana, the third Æmiliana. All three, entered into religion with the same ardor and consecrated at the same time, had given themselves a very strict rule and led the common life in their own house. As they had been in this kind of life for a long time, Tarsilla and Æmiliana began to grow from day to day in the love of their Creator: only their bodies remained here below, while their souls passed each day a little more towards eternal goods. The soul of Gordiana, on the contrary, began to let the love of the inner life cool down from day to day, to return little by little to the love of this world. Tarsilla often said to her sister Æmiliana, crying a lot: “I see that our sister Gordiana does not live in harmony with us; I must admit that she lets herself go to things outside, and that her heart does not keep what she had proposed. “The two sisters took care to correct Gordiana every day with tender remonstrances, to make her to return from her lightness of manners to the gravity which suited her dress. The latter no doubt took on a serious face when she was reprimanded, but as soon as the hour of the reprimand passed, the virtue of gravity that we wanted to impose on her also passed, and Gordiana returned to the same lightness of speech. She enjoyed herself in the society of the young girls of the world, and the company of those who were not worldly weighed on her.

Better than her sisters, my aunt Tarsilla had risen to the honor of the highest sanctity by her continual prayer, her application to mortify herself, her unusual abstinence, and the gravity of her venerable life. Now, one night, as she herself said, my ancestor [Pope] Felix [III], who was bishop of this Church of Rome, appeared to her in a vision and showed her the abode of eternal light, saying, “Come because I will receive you in this light. ” 

Soon, seized by fever, she arrived on her last day. And when, when a noble woman or man dies, many people gather to comfort their loved ones, at the time of my aunt’s death, men and women flocked around her bed; my mother was there too. Tarsilla suddenly raised her eyes, and seeing Jesus coming, she began to shout to those around her, in a tone of sharp reproach: “Go! Go! Jesus is coming. “And while her gaze was drawn toward the one she saw, her holy soul left her body. Immediately was spread a perfume so wonderful that it appeared to everyone by this delicious smell that the Author of all delights had come there. … All these events took place before the Nativity of the Lord.”

Detail of a papyrus fragment surrounded by a border from the Breviary of Margaret of York, Cotton MS Titus C XV, f. 1r.

– Fr. Dominic ran the Rome Marathon twice, both times finishing near to one of its famous Seven Hills, the Caelian Hill, on which many of the richest and most powerful families of the city had their villas. These three sisters lived there, though after the sack of the city in 410 it was less opulent than it had been. We will return to this hill next week to meet another saint who began her life upon it. 

After joining the angels and saints in Heaven in joyfully singing the “Holy, Holy, Holy”, the faithful kneel down and the church falls silent as the lone voice of the priest continues with the Eucharistic Prayer.

At this point, for those who may be following along with the priest at Mass with some sort of worship aid, a question arises.  Which Eucharistic Prayer will the celebrant use?  Before the revision of the Roman Missal following the Second Vatican Council, this was never a question.  There was only one Eucharistic Prayer that was ever used, known as the Roman Canon.  The word “canon” means “fixed rule”, indicating that for this part of the Mass, the prayers are always the same, no matter the day of the year, with some slight inclusions on special occasions.

With the new Roman Missal that was promulgated after the Council, the celebrant was given some flexibility in choosing which Eucharistic Prayer to use.  There are four main Eucharistic Prayers from which to choose, though there are some additional ones provided for different occasions, but I will just focus on the main four for the sake of our reflections.

The Roman Canon, mentioned above, continues to be an option, and it is also known as Eucharistic Prayer I.  The General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes this prayer in the following way:

Eucharistic Prayer I, or the Roman Canon, which may always be used, is especially suited for use on days to which a proper text for the Communicantes (In communion with those whose memory we venerate) is assigned or in Masses endowed with a proper form of the Hanc igitur (Therefore, Lord, we pray) and also in the celebrations of the Apostles and of the Saints mentioned in the Prayer itself; likewise it is especially suited for use on Sundays, unless for pastoral reasons Eucharistic Prayer III is preferred. 

(GIRM, 365a)

Here at the Cathedral, you will hear us using this Eucharistic Prayer on more solemn Sundays and Solemnities, though there is no reason it cannot be used at any time.  A beautiful aspect of this prayer is that it helps to show the continuity in the liturgy of the Church throughout the ages.  Those who may not have a strong affinity for the Mass celebrated according to the Roman Missal of 1962 (which people sometimes call the Latin Mass) may think that using this prayer is going backward to a previous time when this was used.  And since it is longer, people might not like it as much.  But get used to hearing it as we approach Christmas, and listen well to how beautiful the words are.

Eucharistic Prayer II is another option, and according to the GIRM, is more appropriate for weekdays.  The GIRM states that for Eucharistic Prayer III, “[i]ts use should be preferred on Sundays and festive days.” (GIRM, 365c) And finally, Eucharistic Prayer IV, used less frequently, is described as follows:

Eucharistic Prayer IV has an invariable Preface and gives a fuller summary of salvation history. It may be used when a Mass has no Preface of its own and on Sundays in Ordinary Time.

(GIRM, 365d)

You will therefore never hear Eucharistic Prayer IV during the seasons of Advent, Christmas, Lent, or Easter, or on any day in which a solemnity, feast day, or memorial is observed.

Those are the general principles that a celebrant follows when choosing a Eucharistic Prayer, though note that there is a lot of freedom in the choice made.  Hopefully this clears up some of the questions that arises on why a certain Eucharistic Prayer is used and when it is used.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: December 17^th

This week, our story begins with the day’s page from the Roman Martyrology. On the one hand, this is simply an extensive (though not exhaustive) list of the Church’s saints, giving a miniature summation of their lives, depicting in short form why each is a saint we should emulate. Yet this simple document, as it lists the saints who have entered heaven on day after day after day sparkles with lives lived out of God’s grace. On the nondescript day of December 17^th, we discover countless men and women who have gone ahead of us into the Eternal Life offered to us as well.

At Eleutheropolis, in Palestine, the holy martyrs Florian, Calanicus and their fifty-eight companions, who were massacred by the Saracens for the faith of Christ, in the time of the emperor Heraclius. 

At Marseilles, in France, blessed Lazarus, bishop, who was raised from the dead by our Lord, as we read in the Gospel.

At Rome, St. John de Matha, founder of the Order of the Most Holy Trinity for the Redemption of Captives. His festival is observed on the 8th of February, according to the decree of Innocent XI.

In the monastery of Fulda, the holy abbot Sturmius, abbot and apostle of Saxony, who was ranked among the saints by Innocent II., in the second Council of Lateran.

At Bigarden, near Brussels, St. Vivina, virgin, whose eminent sanctity is attested by frequent miracles.

At Constantinople, St. Olympiades, widow.

At Andenne, at the Seven Churches, St. Begga, widow, sister of St. Gertrude. 

…

And elsewhere many other holy martyrs, confessors and holy virgins.

Thanks be to God.

Please spend a few moments contemplating these holy men and women. Perhaps you look up Eleutheropolis and discover that the city where those 60 Christians were martyred is now in the West Bank. Can those holy men and women offer hope to those killed, and suffering, on that same soil today? Can they pray for us to see, as they did, that eternal life is a far greater good than earthly life, yet both are gifts from God that we must protect?

Or, you notice Lazarus, and realize that this beloved friend of Jesus, raised from his grave, made his way carrying the Gospel all the way to Marseilles and there shepherded a fledgling community of Christians. When has God marvelously given you a new chance at life? And, have you used it to similarly proclaim His Salvation?

Can St. John de Matha, who founded the Trinitarian Order which we recalled a few weeks ago on the feast of St. Chrysogonus (they care for his relics), stir our hearts – as Our Lord asks – to consider where people around us remain captive, and work to free them from their shackles? Do we see them as Christ to such an extent that we would risk our own lives to bring them Christ’s Freedom?

St. Sturminus reminds us of the sanctity, and power, of remaining faithful to whatever responsibility God has given to us. Synods still debate, heresies still rage, Popes still reign, and pagans still need Jesus, but what if you and I today just took care of our inner monastery, our domestic Church, our little parcel of God’s vineyard?

Sweeping across continents, and across centuries, now we consider St. Vivina’s simplicity. Surely she had great hopes and dreams and plans and prayers, but the miracles and wonders we marvel at only happened after her death. Can we be content with being little saints? Can we be committed to being little saints? Can we be saints in little things?

Finally, looking at the double example of St. Olymbiades and St. Begga, known soley for their being widowed, and becoming saints. Do you mourn the loss, or expect to lose, someone near to you? Could St. Olymbiades, a humble saint from a big city, show you how to let Christ consecrate your grief? Can St. Begga, a sister and friend, show you how to keep loving through that pain?

– Fr. Dominic is struck not only by the fact that these saints show us holiness across all locations, and ages, of the Church, and not only in every different situation and walk of life, but that they also sanctify even the time that they occupied, especially the day on which they left this world for heaven. One of the days of the year will be my, and your, feast-day as well. What if ours was December 17^th too? Are we ready? Are we preparing? Are we looking forward to that day? 

In my previous article, I noted that the General Instruction of the Roman Missal identifies seven main elements of the Eucharistic Prayer.  We reflected last week on the first element of thanksgiving, which leads into the second element: acclamation.  Here is what we read in the GIRM:

The acclamation, by which the whole congregation, joining with the heavenly powers, sings the Sanctus (Holy, Holy, Holy). This acclamation, which constitutes part of the Eucharistic Prayer itself, is pronounced by all the people with the Priest. (GIRM, 79)

It has been a few articles since I referenced Venerable Bruno Lanteri’s beautiful reflections on praying the Mass by seeking the sentiments and the heart of some biblical figure who helps us to better pray those different moments in the liturgy.  So let us return to his thoughts as we begin the Eucharistic Prayer.  As the Preface is prayed and the Sanctus is sung, Lanteri proposes the following image: “At the Preface, I will seek the sentiments and the heart of the Heavenly Court.”  Father Timothy Gallagher, the author of the book from which these reflections come, writes:

When we pray, “Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts.  Heaven and earth are full of your glory,” we say this together with the Heavenly Court…when the priest prays the Preface, you join your heart to his words as you listen, and when you say or sing the Holy, Holy, Holy, you are praying with the angels, archangels, and all the heavenly host?  (A Biblical Way of Praying the Mass, p. 58 of Kindle version of book)

At this point of the Mass, I sometimes just close my eyes and picture the scene of being surrounded by saints and angels who are all gathered around the throne of the lamb to worship Him.  I find this especially helpful if the number of people at Mass might not be that many.  What we see with our human eyes may be somewhat disappointing, but what we see with our eyes of faith is extremely encouraging and consoling.  Though the angels are not taking up space, I imagine them standing in every place where there is a gap in the pews, lining all of the aisles, and filling up the sanctuary.

I go back to the reflection I wrote a few weeks ago of my experience of the closing Mass for our Eucharistic Congress.  Looking around the arena, the space was filled with people who were praising God together, a foretaste of what we await in the heavenly liturgy.  But even there, with nearly 5000 people in attendance, think of how much more impressive the sight was from Heaven, where that multitude beyond counting was present with us, singing Holy, Holy, Holy to the Lord of Hosts.

To the skeptic who lives only in this world and for this world, such a vision may seem ridiculous or childish, but for us who are called to be childlike when we approach the Lord, it makes perfect sense and we are filled with joy to be joining in this amazing prayer with the entire Church – those in Heaven and on earth, from every time – past present and future.  What a gift the Mass is for us who believe!

Father Alford     

Feast Day: December 10^th

The date was November 2^nd, 1591. William Shakespeare was at that time putting the finishing touches on his play, Henry VI, Part 1. Uncannily anticipating the Marvel Cinematic Universe by centuries, this play would eventually stand alongside seven further plays of the next several years, prequals and sequels enthralling thousands with their interconnected depiction of the heroes, heroines, and villains involved in the rise of the English Kings and War of the Roses. 

Mr. Swithun Wells – a poet, schoolmaster, European traveler, country gentleman, and revert to Catholicism – was the owner of a comfortable country home near Gray’s Inn, on the (then) outskirts of London, just across the Thames from where Shakespeare’s play would debut 6 months later. Swithun was, on that chilly morning, regretting that he wasn’t home because his wife, Margaret (or Alice) and three gentlemen, John Mason, Sidney Hodgson, and Brian Lacey, were participating in a Mass celebrated at the Wells home by Fr. Edmund Gennings. Two other priests, Fr. Eustace White (31) and Fr. Polydore Plasden (27) were also present, but must have offered the younger priest the privilege of celebrating Mass on the feast of All Souls.

Perhaps Fr. Edmund asked if he could. He had been ordained one year before and was only 24 years old. His nickname from seminary, turned his codename in the underground Catholic Church under Elizabethan England, was “Ironmonger.” (Hilariously, this is the name of a Marvel comic-book character who tries to takeover Tony Stark’s company and gain control of his Ironman technology). Fr. Edmund had lost all of his immediate family except for a brother while in seminary in France (a loss made all the more tragic by their previous rejection of him for his choice to remain Catholic, and become a Catholic priest). No doubt he offered some of those sorrows to God, and entrusted the souls of his estranged and fallen-away parents to the Lord, while celebrating Mass on that solemn feast. 

As the Consecration was concluding, heavy fists beat upon the door. Richard Topcliffe, the remorseless and vicious priest-hunter of Queen Elizabeth I had arrived. He was renowned for his tenacity in hunting down Catholics, especially priests, and torturing them to death in all sorts of horrible ways. Certainly, his reputation was known to those in the room as they held the door against Her Majesty’s forces while Fr. Edmund finished offering Mass. Swithun, hurrying back, having been arrested before, knew what to expect too, when he joined his wife, the three priests, and the other men as they were captured.

Topcliffe would torture each man over the coming weeks (Alice was pardoned for the moment) killing them all on December 10^th 1591. He hung Fr. White for eight hours in iron manacles. The priest’s only reply: “Lord, more pain if Thou pleases and more patience.” Also martyred at Tyburn, Fr. Polydore’s proclamation before being hung as a traitor was to acknowledge and pray for Elizabeth, but that he could not deny His Savior for her: “I am a Catholic priest, therefore I would never fight, nor counsel others to fight against my religion, for that were to deny my faith.” Looking up to heaven and kissing the rope on which he would hang, he continued, “O Christ, I will never deny Thee for a thousand lives.” The three laymen were likewise killed at Tyburn.

On the same day Swithun watched the gibbit rise near his home for his own execution. Fr. Gennings was hung (and drawn and quartered) first and, amid his tortures, only said “Saint Gregory, pray for me.” In a turn of phrase that could have just as easily been spoken by a comic-book villain, his executioner was said to have exclaimed “Zounds! See, his heart is in my hand, and yet Gregory is in his mouth. O egregious Papist.” The priest’s words, though, gave courage to Mr. Wells, who jested with Topcliffe’s insults as he mounted the scaffold, but then asked his torturer’s pardon for he needed to turn his mind to more important matters. Genning’s words would, unbeknownst to him, also bring about the conversion of his scornful brother, John, who would go on to be ordained a Franciscan priest:

 [John, writing this himself in the third-person] made long discourses concerning his religion and his brother’s, comparing the Catholic manner of living with his, and finding the one to embrace pain and mortification, and the other to seek pleasure. the one to live strictly, and the other licentiously; the one to fear sin, the other to run into all kinds of sin. Upon this, being struck with exceeding terror and remorse, he wept bitterly, desiring God, after his fashion, to illuminate his understanding that he might see and perceive the truth. Oh! what great joy and consolation did he feel at that instant; what reverence on the sudden did he begin to bear to the Blessed Virgin and to the Saints of God, which before he had never scarce heard tell of; what strange motions, as it were inspirations, with exceeding readiness of will to change his religion, took possession of his soul; and what a heavenly conceit had he now of his dear brother’s felicity! He imagined he saw him; he thought he heard him. In this ecstasy of mind, he made a vow upon the spot, as he lay prostrate on the ground, To forsake kindred and country to find out the true knowledge of his brother’s faith; which vow he soon after performed, and departed England without advertising any one of his friends, and went beyond the seas to execute his promise.

– Fr. Dominic invites you this week to join him in imagining yourself at that last Mass of Fr. Gennings. What would their thoughts be while receiving Holy Communion as Topcliffe battered the door? What are yours, and mine, as we receive Jesus ourselves?