Liturgy

They departed to their own country by another way

The latest date on which the Feast of the Epiphany can occur is 8 January. In this case the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord is celebrated on the following day, which is Monday, instead of on a Sunday. Suddenly, we find ourselves in Ordinary Time without an opportunity to contemplate the mystery of God, who revealed himself to the world through his Son made man for our salvation. It is true that the Sunday following the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord continues to elaborate the theme of the Epiphany through passages taken from the first two chapters of the Gospel according to John (see The Epiphany at the Wedding Feast at Cana), but we still return to the monotony (or calmness) of the green liturgical colour.

Due to the haste in which we were immediately introduced to the life of Christ in his public ministry, instead of the full account of the Magi’s visit, my mind remained on the last verse of the Gospel which is read on the Solemnity of the Epiphany: “And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way” (Mt 2:12).

“They departed to their own country by another way.” There is a practical aspect to this decision, that allowed Mary and Joseph enough time to gather the few belongings they could take with them and escape with the infant Jesus into Egypt—the land from which the People of Israel had left to form a nation and become the People of God in the land that God had promised to give them and led them to take possession of.

But apart from the aspect of divine logistics, when we consider the haste with which the mystery of the Epiphany is celebrated, this small phrase takes on another dimension. Firstly, “they departed” signifies that they went somewhere and experienced something. On the other hand, “they departed to their own country” signifies that the place they went to, and their experience was not in their homeland nor was it a lifelong experience: it was a journey with the intent of returning home, taking back with them an experience that remained ingrained in their memory that did not anchor them to the physical place, but they returned to their own country.

However, they did not take a different route returning to their country simply to evade Herod after being warned in a dream. In the Bible, to take another route could have negative connotations, particularly if the other route is that of disobedience and rebellion against God’s Holy Law. On the other hand, it could mean a route to a new opportunity, a route that keeps us from peril, leads to salvation, and provides a safe journey home. For instance, when the People of Israel had crossed the Jordan after forty years in the desert, Joshua sent men to spy on the city of Jericho with the aim of gradually beginning their conquest of the land that God had promised them. These spies found refuge in the home of Rahab the prostitute who lowered them down the city walls and sent them by a different route to avoid their capture by the soldiers who were searching for them (see Jos 2:22).

And therefore, as we begin a new year, instead of the many empty resolutions that we quickly break and forget, I would like to propose this question for you to reflect upon: what is the other route that the Lord desires for you to take to your homeland? Have you taken a route in life which will not lead you to your true homeland—to the place where you feel truly at home and where you can reach your full potential— but instead you chosen to wander in the empty desert of faithlessness and lack of trust? What are the opportunities that daily present themselves to you to put the Gospel into practice? They may not be the same routes of yesterday, because our lives and circumstances change daily, and each day a new response is expected of us.

Where is your homeland? Where are you planning to settle and find your place in life? Most importantly, what is going to happen when you return to your homeland? Although the sacred author remains silent, the Magi’s encounter with Jesus unquestionably transformed them. Something had changed. They discovered something, or rather, they had encountered someone whom they recognised as King and Lord. When they returned home, they surely would have shared all that they had experienced—not simply during their journey but also what it meant to them to discover the King of Israel, who is the hope of the whole world.

During this Christmas season, what have you discovered, what has profoundly touched you, what has affected you so much that there is a possibility that your life has been touched by a love higher than ourselves and that can satisfy us? More or less, we have all begun returning to our usual routines—back to our homelands, settling in. What are you taking with you? What message are you delivering? What will you share? What love have you discovered anew? What has rekindled the fire in your heart?

What does the Priest say during the Breaking of the Bread?

An important action during the Mass occurs when, before Communion, the priest breaks the consecrated host he is to consume in two pieces. This action is an essential part of the celebration of the Mass. From the very beginning, for the early Church, this action meant the celebration of the Eucharist itself, so much so that in the Acts of the Apostles we find a number of references to Christians that gather on the first day of the week—Sunday—to celebrate the day of the Lord’s Resurrection—to break the bread (Acts 2:42. 46; 20:7. 11; see also 1 Cor 10:16). The meaning of this action is easy to understand because it is the same action that Jesus enacted at the Last Supper which is also repeated at every Mass in accordance with his command: “do this in remembrance of me” (Lk 22:19; 1 Cor 11:23-25).

In a previous article we had already explained why the priest places a piece of the host in the chalice (see Why does the priest break a piece of the Host and place it in the Chalice?). At that moment we are also struck by the fact that, while we pray the Lamb of God, the priest does not pray with the congregation … what is taking place at that time?

At that time the priest is praying one of the few prayers which he silently prays on his own. It is also one of the few prayers during the Mass which is addressed to Jesus—most of the prayers are addressed to the Father through Jesus. The reason the priest prays this prayer alone is an expression of the intimacy between the Eucharist and the priesthood: The celibate priest in the Roman Rite, before receiving the Eucharist, prays to the love of his life. He prays that he may be purified from his sins as well as strengthened in his fidelity to Christ.

The Roman Missal offers two prayers for the priest to choose from:

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God,
who by the will of the Father
and the work of the Holy Spirit,
through your Death gave life to the world;
free me by this, your most holy Body and Blood,
from all my sins and from every evil;
keep me always faithful to your commandments,
and never let me be parted from you.

Or:

May the receiving of your Body and Blood,
Lord Jesus Christ,
not bring me to judgment and condemnation,
but through your loving mercy
be for me protection in mind and body,
and a healing remedy.

Now that you know what the priest prays at that time during the Mass, it would be a good idea to pray with the same intention and remember also to pray for the priest who is celebrating Mass. He also needs prayer!

Why does the Priest break a piece of the Host and place it in the Chalice?

With many televised and livestreamed masses, we might have had the chance to see certain details of the celebration of the Mass more closely, or we may have observed them ourselves while attending the celebration of the Mass. One such details is when the priest, before communion, takes a piece of the Host and places it in the Chalice. It is important to keep in mind that in Eucharistic celebrations words and actions are not there by chance; but all have a specific purpose that have continued to develop with the passage of time in the traditions of the Church. So, what does this action mean?

In St Paul’s letters, as well as in the Acts of the Apostles, we find that the Apostles celebrated the Paschal Mystery as commanded by Jesus by the breaking of bread (Acts 2:46; 1 Cor 10:16). Furthermore, in Luke’s Gospel, we find the disciples of Emmaus recognising Jesus in the breaking of bread (Lk 24: 35). This action during the celebration of the Mass reminds us of the last supper when Jesus, with boundless love, just before dying for us on the Cross, gave himself to us in the Eucharist. The breaking of the bread symbolises the unity of those partaking from the same bread as well as Jesus’ sacrificial act when he gave himself for us completely on the Cross.

The priest not only breaks the Host, but after the sign of peace he takes the host in his hands, breaks it on the paten, and places a small piece of the Host in the Chalice, while silently praying:

May this mingling of the Body and Blood
of our Lord Jesus Christ
bring eternal life to us who receive it.

The small piece from the Host placed in the Chalice is called fermentum, a Latin word that means ‘yeast’.

Originally, the fermentum was a sign of Christian unity because in the early Church the Bishop of Rome concelebrated mass with the priests. Then on Sunday they would celebrate mass in their titular churches. Therefore, the Pope used to send to the surrounding churches pieces of the consecrated host, consecrated during the Mass concelebrated with the priests. We find that in the fourth century, the Council of Laodicea restricted this practice, although in the writings of Pope Innocent I (402-417) we find that the tradition of the fermentum was still present. There are some liturgical historians who also claim that, for a brief period, the priest would place two pieces of the Host in the Chalice, one piece from the Mass concelebrated with the Pope or from the local Bishop, and another piece from a Mass the same priest had previously celebrated. This last piece was placed in the Chalice to symbolise the unity between every Mass.

When this tradition was no longer observed, the priests still continued to place a piece of the Host in the Chalice. Therefore, this action, when seen in its context, demonstrates the unity between the Christian faithful and the visible shepherds of the Church: the Pope together with the bishops.

Stop and Reflect

  • Are my prayers mostly focused on my needs? Do I see myself as a member of the Body of Christ?
  • How often do I pray for the bishops and the Pope?

Why is St Cecilia the Patron Saint of Musicians?

On 22 November the Church celebrates the memorial of St Cecilia, virgin and martyr. Christian tradition regards her as the patron saint of musicians, so much so that there are many activities of a musical nature held on her feast day, and a number of choirs named after her. But why is she associated with music?

St Cecilia lived around the third century and her cult was so widespread in Rome that her name was inserted in the Roman Canon—which is the First Eucharistic Prayer. In the account of her martyrdom, St Cecilia is praised for her great example of Christian womanhood in guarding her virginity and suffering martyrdom for the love of Christ.

According to early sources, it appears that Cecilia came from a noble family and had made a vow of virginity to God, but her parents gave her into marriage to Valerian, a pagan youth also from a noble family. It is said that, when they went to their living quarters after the wedding, Cecilia told Valerian that an angel was with her jealously guarding her purity. Valerian wanted proof of this, so she sent him along the Via Appia to meet with Pope Urban to baptise him. Valerian did as he was told and upon his return he saw the Angel beside her. It is said that this event prompted Valerian’s brother, Tiburtius, to be baptised, and together they began to evangelise and bury those Christians who had suffered martyrdom.

St Cecilia’s connection to music is probably based on an erroneous tradition in one of the accounts on her life that says: cantantibus organis illa in corde suo soli domino decantabat. Although the correct translation for this phrase is that, at the wedding feast, while the musicians played, Cecilia sang in her heart to her Lord alone. Most probably, the phrase ‘Cantantibus organis’ was misinterpreted to mean that Cecilia herself was playing the organ. It is for this reason that, in her iconographic representations from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, St Cecilia is often depicted as playing an organ.

Moving on from this anecdote, it would be appropriate to remember with gratitude those who are responsible for music and singing during the liturgy—many of whom are volunteers—and to pray for them in order that, through their ministry, they may truly raise the hearts of the congregation to the Lord.

St Martin’s Bag

On 11 November the Church celebrates the feast of St Martin of Tours. This saint was born of pagan parents, but he was inclined towards the Roman Catholic faith from a young age. He followed and practised the monastic and eremitic ideal for many years before he was chosen as bishop of Tours, France, in the year 371. During his episcopate, he built various monasteries and he died during a visit to one of the dioceses with the hope of bringing unity to this diocese. The cult of St Martin is very popular in the Roman Catholic world, and was one of the first people to be revered as saints even though he didn’t suffer any martyrdom.

Undoubtedly, one of the famous traditions associated with this Saint is the bag of St Martin (il-borża ta’ San Martin). Traditionally, it used to be a bag filled with different types fruit and a small sweet bun—nowadays sweets are included in it as well, to make it more inviting for children.

The origin of this tradition, which is still very strong amongst us even today, are quite interesting. Although popularly associated with acts of charity that St Martin is known for—like the legend of the mantel that St Martin teared to share with a poor man, who later is revealed to be Jesus himself—the origins of this the borża ta’ San Martin are rooted in liturgy.

Besides the celebration of baptism during the Easter Vigil, some were baptised on 6 January when the Church commemorated the Baptism of the Lord before establishing that day specifically as the feast of the visit of the Magi. Even today, the liturgy of the Epiphany includes also the Baptism of the Lord together with the miracle during the marriage in Cana, as part of the celebration of the mystery of God who showed himself in the person of Jesus Christ.

Consequently, just as forty days of fasting were observed in preparation for Baptism—which eventually developed in the liturgical season of Lent—likewise, even before the celebration of the feast of the Epiphany a forty days period of fasting was observed. Eventually, particularly in the Gallican Church (of France), this fast was associated with Christmas, thus starting the day following the feast of St Martin. The borża ta’ San Martin functioned in the same way as sweets during Carnival, just before lent starts. This observance gradually led paved the way for the Church to establish the period of Advent—a time which didn’t maintain its penitential character, yet its aim of opening our hearts in preparation for the coming of the Lord remains.

The Development of Devotion to Our Lady of the Rosary in Malta

We can safely say that, during the month of October, most of our parishes celebrate the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. In a number of parishes, in particular those who have been long established, we find altars or side chapels dedicated to Our Lady under this title, most with confraternities linked to them.

This devotion became widely spread in Malta after the Battle of Lepanto in 1571. Engaged in this battle were also the Knights of St John together with Maltese seamen and soldiers. Pope St Pius V attributed this victory to Our Lady since the Christian forces won the battle on 7 October, which coincided with the celebration of the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva in Rome. Initially, the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary was celebrated on the first Sunday in October. However, when the Liturgical Calendar was reformed by Pope St Pius X to emphasise the importance of the Sunday Liturgy, 7 October was chosen for the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, and we still celebrate it on this day.

Only few years after 1571, Confraternities of the Rosary were being established in Malta by the Dominican Friars who worked tirelessly to spread this devotion. In contrast with other confraternities at that time in Malta—that were groups for men that practiced a specific trade—the Rosary Confraternity was of a devotional nature. The Rosary Confraternity in Valletta assisted those who were condemned to death by hanging. As a result, they were also called “tal-Miżerikordja”—literally, “of Mercy.”

It may be that the conflicts we face today are more subtle and therefore more threatening. But our weapon must remain the same: prayer, in particular the Holy Rosary especially during the month of October through which we contemplate from Our Mother’s perspective the life of the Son of God made man for us.

Drop down dew from above, you heavens

Currently our land is flooded with water, and it seems it cannot take anymore rain. But at the same time, our souls are thirsty and our hearts faint as in a dry and weary land where there is no water (see Psalm 63:1). Because we believe, we know that the human heart thirsts for the Lord—and, although we are still thirsty like a dry weary land, we are blessed because we know for what we are longing, while those who do not believe experience emptiness beyond comprehension, that becomes a terrifying desert. This blessing is like soft rain, like dew, which is hardly felt—it is not heavy—but enough to permeate the land and for trees to produce their fruit.

During the Advent Season, the Liturgical tradition of the Church frequently uses a verse taken from the second part of the book of the Prophet Isaiah—which focuses on the liberation of God’s people from the Babylonian Exile that was seen as close at hand due to the political changes that were happening in the Middle East at that time. In particular, in the entrance antiphon of the Fourth Sunday of Advent, the Church prays with the words of the Prophet Isaiah:

Shower, O heavens, from above, and let the skies rain down righteousness; let the earth open, that salvation may sprout forth, and let it cause righteousness to spring up also.

Isaiah 45:8

Therefore, in preparation for the celebration of the beginning of our liberation from sin and death through the birth of God made man, and while we await the realisation of this freedom in a complete way when we meet the Lord face to face, it is not without cause that the Church reiterates many times these words: this is a cry for the heavens to open, that grace may pour down so that salvation may spring forth from the earth, for us also in our day.

This salvation springs forth from the earth because, although grace comes from heaven, this same grace does not come down in its fullness but gives life to the earth, and life to the heart of man, in order that the presence of the God that saves sprouts from within it. It is salvation that sprouts from the earth because he chose to dwell in this world and become one of us. This salvation still sprouts from the earth because he still comes to us today through the fruit of the earth and work of human hands that become his body and blood, that journeyed on this earth, in order that he may strengthen us in our journey in this world.

As we draw closer to Christmas, may we ask the Lord for the grace that the earth will once more be receptive and soften, so that it may receive within it his mercy, in order that righteousness may sprout through our actions, words, thoughts, and desires, which are simply human but are also imbued with his justice and righteousness.

The Assumption of Our Lady: A Maternal Perspective on the Paschal Mysteries

Last Saturday I was at Mass and the priest celebrate a votive Mass of Our Lady. In the preface—the prayer recited by the priest before the consecration—there was a sentence that struck me and which is significant for both the Solemnity of the Assumption of Our Lady and the Feast of the Queenship of Mary which is celebrated a week later. The prayer reads as follows:

Raised to the glory of heaven, she accompanies your pilgrim Church with a mother’s love, and watches in kindness over the Church’s homeward steps, until the Lord’s Day shall come in glorious splendour.

Roman Missal, Preface from the Votive Mass of Our Lady Mother of the Church

This sentence struck me because it gives a particular perspective on the mystery of Our Lady and on the mystery of man. Christ’s ascension did not mean that he abandoned us. Rather, it means that he took our humanity to the right hand of the Father so he would intercede for our salvation, in order that he may lead not only those in his company but everyone, from all places and all times, to their true home. Similarly, these liturgical celebrations give a maternal touch to the mystery of salvation because, following Our Lady’s assumption into Heaven, her mission as Mother of Jesus’ disciples did not end with her death, but with a glorified body like Christ’s—and like the glorified bodies of those who have died united to Christ will have—Our Lady cares for us all wherever we are and accompanies us towards our heavenly home.

Our Lady is a mother that cares for us, accompanies us in our life’s journey, and spreads her mantle of protection over us. Because she is truly our mother, this mantle does not stifle our liberty but rather increases it because she is a mother that allows her children space while at the same time remaining present. She does not stop being a mother when her children become adults and leave home. Parents who have or are experiencing this situation can understand this stage in life. On the other hand, we can also understand this when in this free space we were able to take our state in life while other close family members remained as guides and support. And, if this was not our experience due to obstacles we have had to face, we do feel that something was not quite right. This is why we continue to turn to Our Lady and place our hand in hers: so that she may continue to protect and guide us. She accompanies us wherever we go—even if we go astray, she will never abandon us—with full confidence that, step by step, she will walk with us and lead us to her Son’s glory, who became man like us so, as Our Lady has already experienced, we too can become like him, and see him as he is (see 1 Jn 3:2).

How long does the priest have to wear white?!

It has already been one month since we celebrated Easter, but liturgically the Church continues to use the same liturgical colour, white, except on certain feasts such as those of martyrs, apostles, or on Pentecost, when red is used. White is associated with light, purity, glory and joy. But why should the priest continue wearing white for almost fifty days?

The choice of the time span for the liturgical seasons is not arbitrary. It is chronologically linked to the Gospels, particularly that of Luke. Both in the Gospel and in the Acts of the Apostles—which was also written by St Luke—we find that Jesus spent forty days appearing to his disciples so that they could rejoice because the bridegroom was still with them (see Luke 5:33-39). And, when Jesus “parted from them and was carried up into heaven” (Lk 24:51), although the bridegroom was taken from them, we still find them waiting in anticipation for the coming of the Holy Spirit fifty days after Easter with joy and enthusiasm: they remained united daily in prayer and they chose Matthias to replace Judas.

During these fifty days we also journey with the early Church as she takes her first steps in the mission Jesus entrusted to her to go to the ends of the earth. Not every step was successful, but many of the obstacles changed into opportunities, and with every door that closed others opened.

This is why, liturgically, we continue to use white: because we know that, although we cannot see him physically, the Bridegroom is still with us. We can hear him speaking to us through His Word and experience His presence powerfully in the sacraments, through which we also receive the Holy Spirit who continues to journey with us in our ordinary lives—when the liturgical colour changes to green during Ordinary Time—where it is necessary to continue to receive and give life.

Quasimodo and the Second Sunday of Easter

One of the most well-known characters of the French author Victor Hugo is undoubtedly the Hunchback of Notre Dame—a person born disfigured who in the novel experiences a tragic end, unlike the Disney version in which he ends up living happily ever after.

You might say: “But what does this have to do with the Easter Season that we have just begun?”  Indeed, it does!  The Archdeacon Monsignor Claude Frollo finds this infant on the Second Sunday of Easter, named after the introductory antiphon of the Mass (in the same way that Gaudete Sunday in Advent and Laetare Sunday in Lent take their name):

Like newborn infants, you must long for the pure, spiritual milk, that in him you may grow to salvation, alleluia.

Here, the Liturgy uses an old translation of this verse from St Peter’s Second Epistle (2:2), taken from St Jerome’s Vulgate.  The antiphon in Latin reads as follows:

Quasi modo géniti infántes, rationábile, sine dolo lac concupíscite, ut in eo crescátis in salútem, allelúia.

It was precisely the first two words of the antiphon that Frollo used to name the infant when he baptised him on the last day of the Easter Octave: Quasimodo.  In the novel, it seems that the author is trying to enter into the mind of the archdeacon to discover what his intention was when he gave this infant a most peculiar name:  maybe because he wanted to mark the day in which the infant was found, or to stress how imperfect and defective this infant was.  Through the act of Baptism—perhaps without realising—the Archdeacon declares the human dignity of this deformed individual.

Maybe we all have a little of Quasimodo in us—imperfect and defective—but deep within us lies our humanity and the image of God that gives us dignity.  Therefore, the Good News of Easter, which is renewed for us again on the Second Sunday of Easter, speaks precisely about how our imperfections can reach their fulfilment and perfection if we long and search for the pure milk of grace that the Church gives us in the Sacraments and in the Word.  Only in this way can we arrive at declaring unequivocally with Thomas: “My Lord and my God!” (Jn 20:28).