Thursday, April 18, 2024

The Bells of Easter, Part 1: The Golden Bells of the High Priest - Guest Article by Robert Keim

Onec again, we are grateful to Mr Robert Keim for sharing some of his writing with us, this time in a two part article on the subject of the liturgical use of bells. Mr Keim is a secular brother of the London Oratory of St. Philip Neri, a linguist, and a literary scholar specializing in the poetic and dramatic literature of the English Renaissance. A longtime student of the arts and spirituality of sacred liturgy, he teaches university courses in rhetoric and is pursuing research into the devotional, scriptural, and liturgical culture of medieval England.

One of my most cherished experiences during the liturgical year is made possible by a rather unhistorical mingling of rites. I typically entrust my Lenten journey to the plaintive beauty and deprivation of the Roman liturgy. But after enduring six weeks of penance and ritual austerity, my soul is thirsty for paschal joys, and I prefer to seek them in the effusive Easter Sunday celebrations of the Byzantine rite. Honestly, though, one hardly needs to seek them, for they are all but inescapable at certain moments—for instance, when the priest, vested in the brilliant white of the Resurrection, walks among the faithful and reminds them again and again that “Christ is risen.” His voice is exultant and insistent, and his words are accompanied by the gladsome song of thurible bells.

It is a noble object indeed that can simultaneously delight three of the five senses: an Eastern rite censer, which adds the pleasures of sound to those of sight and smell, has twelve bells that symbolize the twelve apostles. (Some Eastern censers have a thirteenth bell that makes no sound—it represents Judas.)
As anyone knows who regularly attends the Roman Mass or the Byzantine Divine Liturgy, bells are prominent features of Catholic worship throughout the liturgical year. Christians of centuries past would also be thoroughly familiar with their continual use as signals—signum, in fact, was one of the medieval Latin words for a church bell—that announced hours of prayer and worship from morning till evening. However, bells also have a special connection with the Easter season, and give us an opportunity to contemplate the Resurrection of our dear Lord through the material realities of sacred liturgy.
The Golden Bells of the Old Testament
Bells of various types have been favored instruments in Christian liturgical life for well over a thousand years. This relationship, which is unique among world religions, began in the early days of the Hebraic covenant, but remained rather dormant until the early medieval period.
The Hebrew scriptures contain two words for bells. One of these, metsillah, appears only once (in Zechariah 14, 20) and probably denoted instruments that we would identify as cymbals rather than bells. The other word, paʿamon, is also uncommon, but it appears in a passage of far greater significance:
And thou shalt make the tunic of the ephod all of violet.... And beneath at the feet of the same tunic, round about, thou shalt make as it were pomegranates, of violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, with little bells set between: so that there shall be a golden bell and a pomegranate, and again another golden bell and a pomegranate. And Aaron shall be vested with it in the office of his ministry, that the sound may be heard, when he goeth in and cometh out of the sanctuary, in the sight of the Lord, and that he may not die. (Exodus 28, 31, 33–35)
Truly, the God of Israel scrupled not to let His chosen people glimpse the divine realities of heaven through the sensual realities of earth. And Aaron must have been a formidable minister indeed as he approached the altar of sacrifice arrayed in exotic garments, splendid colors, precious metal, stone engravings, and the gleaming bells that turned his very movements into a song of protection against the overwhelming holiness of God’s sanctuary.
An eleventh-century mosaic of the high priest Aaron. The censer alludes to an event, recounted in the Book of Numbers, when Aaron’s intercession, aided by the appeasing aroma of incense, saved the fractious Israelites from divine chastisement: “he offered the incense: and standing between the dead and the living, he prayed for the people, and the plague ceased.” The narrative is rich with the possibilities of allegorical and prefigurative interpretations. [1]
Hearing the Harmony of the Cosmos
Ancient Jewish commentators assigned various interpretations to the bells of the high priest. Among these was a view shared by Philo of Alexandria and Flavius Josephus, who both understood the golden bells as a liturgical manifestation of harmony in God’s Creation. Philo, for example, savors the visual poetry of the high priest’s vestments, which were “ornamented with golden pomegranates, and bells, and wreaths of flowers; ... a most beautiful and skillful work ... of hyacinth color, and purple, and fine linen, and scarlet, gold thread being entwined and embroidered in it.” He observes that the flowers symbolize earth, the pomegranates symbolize water, and “the bells are the emblem of the concord and harmony that exist between these things” – for only in the union of earth and water does the natural world bring forth abundant life.
The harmonious sound of bells, then, evokes the primordial harmony of the cosmos, which Our Lord both restored and sublimated through His victory—on Easter Sunday, the “eighth day” of consummate re-Creation—over sin and death. Philo’s imagery of flower, earth, fruit, and water also has strong sacramental resonance; we are reminded of the waters of Baptism, the chrism of Confirmation (made from olive oil and aromatic balsam), the natural fecundity of matrimony, and the supernatural fecundity of the wheat and grapes that become our divine nourishment. Thus, we might imagine the complex yet unified tonality of altar bells as signifying the deep spiritual unity of the Sacraments.
This thirteenth-century illumination depicts King David, the archetypal religious musician, playing a set of bells. The text is from Psalm 80: “Exultate deo adiutori nr̄o: iubilate deo iacob. Sumite psalmum et date tīpanum: psalterium iocundū cum cythara” (“Exult ye to God our helper: sing aloud to the God of Jacob. Take ye up a psalm and give the timbrel: the pleasing lute with the lyre”).
Hearing the Harmony of the Church
The liturgical bells of the Old Covenant also prefigure the harmony that, as a distinctive feature of Christ’s mystical body [2], is the fruit of His Resurrection and the subsequent outpourings of divine grace. Aaron’s bells were woven into his robe, and the psalmist surrounds this robe with themes of brotherly love, sanctification, renewal, and everlasting life:
Lo, how good and pleasant it is,
      for friends to dwell together:
like precious oil upon the head,
      flowing down upon the beard:
Aaron’s beard, that cometh down
      to the edge of his robe;
like dew of Khermón, that cometh down
      upon the hills of Syón;
for there the Lord ordained a blessing:
      life, to ages and forever. (Psalm 132)
Golden bells, being both luminous and sonorous, reach what may be their poetic apogee when we see them as symbols of the saints in heaven, who live in perfect charity, shine with divine splendor, and offer to Almighty God an unceasing sacrifice of ineffably harmonious song. As Aaron’s priestly garment was made specially rich and sacred by the presence of bells, so is the mystical body of the eternal High Priest singularly adorned with the gleaming, ever-praising souls of the blessed in heaven. The ringing of the altar bells and the tolling of the church bell remind us that we are called to join them some day.
Dante and Beatrice were in the Sixth Heaven when “all those living lights, ever more luminous, began to sing”—heavenly music that il sommo Poeta described as the chiming of angelic bells (Paradiso, canto 20).
The Bells of Christendom
Bells never attained further prominence in Judaic liturgy. Their historical moment would arrive along with the gradually developing liturgical life of Christian civilization, and in the next article part of this article, we will look more deeply into the paschal theology of bells.

NOTES:
[1] “And when there arose a sedition, and the tumult increased, Moses and Aaron fled to the tabernacle of the covenant. And when they were gone into it, the cloud covered it, and the glory of the Lord appeared. And the Lord said to Moses: Get you out from the midst of this multitude, this moment will I destroy them. And as they were lying on the ground, Moses said to Aaron: Take the censer, and putting fire in it from the altar, put incense upon it, and go quickly to the people to pray for them: for already wrath is gone out from the Lord, and the plague rageth. When Aaron had done this, and had run to the midst of the multitude which the burning fire was now destroying, he offered the incense: and standing between the dead and the living, he prayed for the people, and the plague ceased” (Numbers 16, 42-48, Challoner-Douay-Rheims translation).
[2] “By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love one for another.” (John 13 35)

The Hours of Catherine de’ Medici, Queen of France

After I did a post on Tuesday about the book of hours of King Henry II of France (born 1519; reigned 1547-59), reader Steven Hensley noted in the combox that his Queen, Catherine de’ Medici (1519-89), also had a very beautiful book of Hours, illuminated in a similar style. Fortunately, this is also in the public domain through the website of the Bibliothèque national de France (Smith-Lesouëf 42.)

Like many Books of Hours, this one begins with a calendar; a Saint or feast is noted every single day of the year, but many of them were not celebrated liturgically. Ten of the months are headed by images which represent agricultural activities typical of that month, but two, April and May (shown here), by scenes of courtly life.
Many books of Hours included a group of four Gospels, one from each of the Evangelists: John 1, 1-14, the Gospel of Christmas day; Luke 1, 26-38, the Annunciation; Matthew 2, 1-12, the Epiphany; and Mark 16, 14-20, the Ascension. This image introduces the Gospel from St John, who is show being illuminated directly from heaven, as he says, “and we have seen His glory”; the other three evangelists are represented by small portraits at the beginnings of their respective Gospels.

Saint Luke, painting a portrait of the Virgin.
Many also have the Passion of St John (chapter 18 and 19); here we see the first episode, the confrontation between Christ and the soldiers in the garden, when they fall back at His words “It is I.”

A fairly small number of pages have a colored border decorated with animals and floral motifs; this is part of the Passion of St John.

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

Holy Thursday 2024 Photopost (Part 1)

We continue with our regular series of photoposts of your liturgies of the Triduum. As is usually the case, it’s a slow process to gather all the albums together, select the photos among the larger albums, size them down, etc., which means there is plenty of time to send more in to photopost@newliturgicalmovement.org, remembering to include the name and location of the church, and any other information you think important. As always, many thanks to the contributors for keeping up the good work of evangelizing through beauty.

Oratory of Ss Gregory and Augustine – St Louis, Missouri
Photos courtesy of Kiera Petrick
Yes, of course tradition will always be for the young.

The Solemnity of St Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church 2024

From the decree of the Sacred Congregation for Rites Quemadmodum Deus, dated Dec. 8, 1870, by which St Joseph was formally recognized with the title “Patron of the Catholic Church”. Translation from the website of the Oblates of St Joseph, modified by myself.

Just as God had placed Joseph, son of the Patriarch Jacob, in charge of all the land of Egypt, that he might save grain for the people, so when the fullness of time had come, and He was about to send His only-begotten Son upon the earth as the Savior of the world, He chose another Joseph, of whom the first had been a type, whom he made the lord and chief of His house and possessions, the guardian of His greatest treasures. For indeed, he had as his spouse the Immaculate Virgin Mary, from whom was born by the Holy Spirit our Lord Jesus Christ, who deigned among men to be thought the son of Joseph, and was subject to him. And Him whom so many kings and prophets had longed to see, Joseph not only saw, but conversed with Him, and embraced with fatherly affection, and kissed, and most wisely reared, even Him whom the faithful were to receive as the bread come down from heaven, to obtain eternal life.
St Joseph as Patron of the Catholic Church; this image was used as the header of his feast under that title in liturgical books printed by the German company Frideric Pustet, from the later 19th to mid 20th century. The Papal crests of Popes Bl. Pius IX and Leo XIII are seen to either side of St Peter’s Basilica.
Because of this sublime dignity which God conferred on his most faithful servant, the Church has always most highly honored and praised the blessed Joseph, after the Virgin Mother of God, his spouse, and has besought his intercession in her troubles. And indeed, since in these most sad times the Church is beset by enemies on every side, and weighed down by such grave calamities that wicked men assert that the gates of hell have finally prevailed against Her, the venerable bishops of the whole Catholic world have for this reason presented to the Supreme Pontiff their own requests, and those of the faithful entrusted to their care, asking that he would deign to declare St Joseph the Patron of the Catholic Church. Thereafter, since they renewed these same petitions and requests all the more earnestly at the Sacred Ecumenical Council of the Vatican, our most holy lord Pope Pius IX, moved also by the most recent and lamentable state of affairs (i.e., the fall of the Papal States), that he might entrust himself and all the faithful to most powerful patronage of the Holy Patriarch Joseph, has chosen to satisfy the bishops’ request, and solemnly declared him Patron of the Catholic Church.

Bl. Pope Pius IX; portrait by George Healy, 1871. (Public domain image from Wikimedia.)
The feast of St Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church, was originally called “the Patronage of St Joseph,” and fixed to the Third Sunday after Easter. It was kept by a great many dioceses and religious orders, particularly promoted by the Carmelites, before it was extended to the universal Church by Bl. Pope Pius IX in 1847, and later granted an octave. When the custom of fixing feasts to particular Sundays was abolished as part of the Breviary reform of Pope St Pius X, it was anticipated to the previous Wednesday, the day of the week traditionally dedicated to Patron Saints. It was removed from the general Calendar in 1955 and replaced by the feast of St Joseph the Worker, one of the least fortunate aspects of the pre-Conciliar liturgical changes; the new feast itself was then downgraded from the highest of three grades (first class) in the 1962 Missal to the lowest of four (optional memorial) in 1970.

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

The Hours Of King Henry II of France

Here is another very beautiful illuminated manuscript from the website of the Bibliothèque national de France (Département des manuscrits, Latin 1429), a book of Hours made for King Henry II of France, who was born in 1519, and reigned from 1547 until his death in 1559. (During a tournament, he was injured in the eye by a fragment of his opponent’s lance, and died of sepsis after only ten days, an event which did much to end the popularity of jousting.) There are only 20 illustrated pages in the manuscript of 124 folios, and three of the images are very small, but they are all of an exceptionally high quality, and clearly show the strong influence of the Italian Renaissance. The majority of the images represent Biblical stories, some of which have no readily discernible relationship to the text they accompany.

Many books of Hours included a group of four Gospels, one from each of the Evangelists: John 1, 1-14, the Gospel of Christmas day; Luke 1, 26-38, the Annunciation; Matthew 2, 1-12, the Epiphany; and Mark 16, 14-20, the Ascension. This image (folio 3v) introduces the Gospel from St John; note the three faces of God, a type of representation which will be formally banned not long after this, in the wake of the Council of Trent. The eagle of St John has an inkpot and scroll case in its mouth.

Folio 5r, the beginning of the Gospel of St Luke. The lettering type seen here was popular with the Italian humanists of the 15th and 16th centuries, partly for the practical reason that it is easier to read than the Fraktur typefaces normally used by the Germans who invented movable type, partly because they believed it to be ancient Roman. (It actually comes from manuscripts of the Carolingian era.) The book has almost no abbreviations in the text, an unmistakable sign that it was made for a very wealthy person not concerned about saving space on the expensive paper.
Folio 8r; in the background, the Prophet Jonah is thrown into the sea, and in the foreground is spat out onto land by the whale. This precedes the Passion of St John, which covers the next 13 pages, and is followed by a prayer; Jonah is of course a symbol of Christ in His Passion.

Folio 15v, the Prophet Elisha multiplies the widow’s oil, (4 Kings 4, 1-7, the Epistle of Tuesday of the 3rd week of Lent). This precedes Matins of the Little Office of the Virgin Mary, perhaps in reference to the words of Psalm 44, “Thou hast loved justice, and hated iniquity: therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows,” words eminently suitable to emphasize to a king. Note the ruins in the background, which derive from the Renaissance interest in the classical world; the building to the left is very reminiscent of the Colosseum.
Folio 28r, Jacob wrestles with the Angel (Genesis 32, 23-32); this is placed before Lauds of the Little Office, perhaps in reference to the words of the Benedicite “let Israel bless the Lord”, since it was at this episode that Jacob received the name Israel.

Important Conference in London: The Royal Priesthood and the Renewal of the Church

June 20-22, at St Mary’s University in London: Register Today.

My friend Fr Andrew Marlborough sent me information about what promises to be a great conference, which he is helping to organise, on “The Royal Priesthood and the Renewal of the Church”. Readers may recognise his name from articles of his which we have shared here on sacred art and artefacts appearing in auction houses in the UK and Europe.

The poster is below. As you can see (click to enlarge), there is a great list of speakers, including highly respected names from both sides of the pond. I am delighted that Fr Brad Elliott, OP, was also recently added to the list of speakers; he is the author of the book I recently featured, The Shape of the Artistic Mind, about creativity and the virtue of art according to St Thomas.

Monday, April 15, 2024

The “Private” Mass from Its Origins to the Thirteenth Century (Conclusion)

The “Private” Mass from Its Origins to the Thirteenth Century

Canon Gilles Guitard, ICRSP

(Part 1, providing the history of this topic from antiquity to the 13th century, may be found here.)

The Franciscans

Now, there were some who wanted to classify the “private” Mass itself as an abuse and who sought a return to the celebration of a single Mass per day in a given community of priests. This was particularly the case with the Friars Minor.

In the introduction we already noted that in 1226 Saint Francis prescribed that each house of friars should have only one Mass a day, celebrated by one of them and attended [i.e., not concelebrated] by any other priests in the community. It seems that the founder of Assisi wanted to avoid the lure of financial gain for his brothers [1], but we can also see in this choice the desire to emphasise the community aspect of the Mass, since we know the particular importance given to the bond of charity by the saint. Moreover, the rest of the letter mentioned in the introduction says the following: “If there were several priests in this place, let each priest, for the love of charity, be content to hear the celebration of the other” [2]. Celebrating “in private” was clearly considered by him to be a breach of this great virtue. The attendance of all the brothers, whether priests or not, at a single Mass at which they all took communion [3], was the best way of effectively maintaining the bond of charity between the brothers; and this was precisely the priority that the saint of Assisi had set himself. [4]

We know what happened next. The Order of Friars Minor nevertheless adopted in their missal the rubric cited in the introduction [5], inherited from the papal court, which explicitly legitimises “private” celebration. Thus, despite their founder’s encouragement to favour the community Mass, the Friars Minor were free to celebrate “in private” if they so wished. No doubt they did not make use of this possibility every day.

In any case, a balance was eventually found, since around 1240, the General of the Order, Aymon of Faversham, compiled the ordo missæ “Indutus planeta”, which is a highly detailed ceremonial of the “private” Mass and the conventual festive Mass. It seems that the itinerancy required for the mission, combined with the brothers’ life of evangelical poverty, contributed to reducing the liturgical display and the length of community ceremonies on the less solemn days of the year. This ceremonial book is in fact a vademecum for celebrating Masses (community or individual) “deprived of solemnity”.

In this way, the legitimacy of the “private” celebration was confirmed and its ritual process spread from Rome to the whole of Christendom.

To conclude this historical overview, it should be noted that, as is often the case, errors and abuses provide an opportunity for the Church to clarify its doctrine. In this case, their appearance was an opportunity to reaffirm the intrinsically communitarian character of every Eucharistic celebration, even “private” ones.

It should also be noted that these disciplinary clarifications, which were essential for correcting certain abusive practices, were only known within the Latin Church, suggesting that the Eastern Churches did not experience the evolution of the Mass “deprived of solemnity” towards the “private” Mass properly so called, as was the case in the West between the 4th and 6th centuries.

Then, after the Gregorian reform, the growing opposition in practice — especially in the monasteries — between public conventual Mass and “private” Mass provided an opportunity to finally establish the definitive legitimacy of the latter and its complementarity with the former.

15th-century German missal (source)

The ritual form

We present here the results of research carried out on three sources: the Ordo romanus XV [6], the Cluniac customs of the XI century [7] and the Ordo missæ “Indutus planeta” [8]. These sources form a rather happy sequence: they are spread out over time and they have had a major impact in time and space.

Here is the synopsis summarising the study of these sources, which shows us the evolution over time of the ritual of the “private” Mass. N.B. The first two stages predate the sources studied. They were conjectured on the basis of minor contemporary sources, which we came across when drawing up our first historical section.

Early centuries: from the origins to the end of the fourth century

For this period, we have conjectured that the “private” Mass was reduced to the pure sacrificium, according to the hypothesis formulated by M. Righetti. [9] Here are the elements that probably made up the “private” Mass:

- Preparation and offering of the oblata, probably accompanied by improvised prayers,
- Eucharistic anaphora,
- Communion for the priest and any assistants,
- Prayers of thanksgiving, probably improvised.

No liturgical book from this period has survived. It is likely that the celebrant — at least until the fourth century — did not use a written text to celebrate this Mass. The Eucharistic anaphora, like all the eminently sacred texts of this period, is probably known by memory.

From the end of the 4th century to the 7th century (the period of the first libelli and sacramentaries)

We continue with the initial hypothesis of a “private” celebration reduced to the pure sacrificium, which would evolve organically over the centuries and according to the region. [10] It would gradually be enriched by new elements, which were already present in the solemn public Mass but performed by other ministers (cantors, deacon, subdeacon). Since the celebrant was not accustomed to reciting them at public Mass, he began to do so at “private” Mass, with the intervention of the authorities. [11]

The celebrant is provided with a single book: a libellus or sacramentary.

At the beginning of the VII century, the course of the “private” Mass could look like this:

  • Kyrie [12], concluded by the Collect. [13].
  • Offertory:
    • “Oremus,
    • offering of oblata,
    • prayer super oblata. [14]
  • Eucharistic anaphora:
    • Dialogue and preface, [15]
    • Sanctus,
    • Roman canon, [16]
    • Pater.
  • Communion rites.
  • Final prayer.

From the end of the 8th century (according to the Ordo romanus XV and the Paduensis Gregorian Sacramentary)

We are thus leaving the realm of the probable and the hypothetical to enter into considerations that are virtually certain. With the help of the Ordo Romanus XV, we can give the following details of the course of the “private” Mass: [17] 

  • Introit (composed of an antiphon and verses from the psalms, concluded by Gloria Patri).
  • The Kyrie consists of nine invocations.
  • The Gloria in excelsis Deo (for certain days).
  • The Collect is preceded by a greeting (probably “Dominus vobiscum”).
  • Epistle and Gospel (if portable missal or lectionary available)
  • The sacrificium is unchanged, except for the following:
    • the Roman canon is certainly the one we know (from Te igitur to Per ipsum), and is recited in a low voice,
    • the Pater is certainly followed by the embolism Libera nos.
  • Communion rites now certainly include:
    • the Pax domini,
    • commingling,
    • apologies (private priestly prayers),
    • Communion antiphon with psalm verses concluded by Gloria Patri
  • Conclusion unchanged, with the oration Ad complendum, and possibly an additional oration Super populum.

From the XI century (according to Cluniac monastic customs)

It is clear from the customary documents analysed that the “private” Mass underwent considerable ritual enrichment between the 8th and 11th centuries, at least in the monasteries dependent on Cluny.

The only book used at the altar was the missal, which occupied two places during the Mass: on the right at the beginning and end, and on the left from the epistle to the ablutions.

A lay brother serves Mass.

The volume of the voice is modest, even secretive for certain parts.

Here is an outline of the elements of the celebration revealed by these traditional practitioners [18]

  • Washing of hands and preparation of the oblata (placing the host on the paten and pouring the wine and water into the chalice) before Mass, in the sacristy.
  • Preparation of the altar on arrival.
  • Vesting at the altar.
  • Confiteor of the priest, then of the server, at the foot of the altar steps.
  • Finger washing and brief prayer after going to the altar.
  • Introït, Kyrie, no Gloria.
  • “Dominus vobiscum” and Collect (there may be several Collects).
  • Epistle, then Gospel (introduced by “Sequentia...”).
  • Credo (for Sundays and feast days).
  • Offertory:
    • “Dominus vobiscum”,
    • placement of the corporal on the altar,
    • then oblata, brought by the server,
    • washing of hands, then joining the first two fingers of each hand,
    • In spiritu humilitatis prayer,
    • exhortation to pray Orate pro me,
    • “Oremus” and secret (in a low voice), with the conclusion Per omnia in an elevated voice.
  • Preface introduced by the dialogue, followed by the Sanctus.
  • Roman canon, concluded by the Per Ipsum doxology (during which the celebrant makes signs of the cross with the host on the chalice, then raises the host slightly).
  • Communion rites:
    • Pater to “Et ne nos inducas in tentationem”, the server replies “Sed libera nos a malo”, the celebrant “Amen” (in a low voice),
    • Libera nos embolism, with fraction during the doxology,
    • Pax Domini (with signs of the cross made with the host over the chalice),
    • commingling,
    • Agnus Dei,
    • kiss of peace to the minister [19],
    • communion of the priest, then of the server, with the host,
    • communion of the priest, then of the server, with the precious blood[20]
    • ablutions: purification of the mouth, fingers and chalice,
    • corporal folding,
    • communion antiphon,
    • “Dominus vobiscum” and then the post-communion.
  • Concluding rituals:
    • “Ite missa est” (or “Benedicamus Domino”)
    • Placeat prayer,
    • verse Animæ omnium Fidelium (if there was a collect pro defunctis).

To this must be added all the gestural details, of which there are many throughout the text (signs of the cross, bows, kissing the altar and the book, position of the speaker, fingers joined), but which we cannot mention here. Both the manner in which they are to be performed and the moment at which they are to be performed are indicated. The overriding concern seems to be to leave nothing to chance or to the free execution of the celebrant.

In the 13th century (according to the ordo missæ “Indutus planeta”)

The regulars [i.e., the religious bound by rule] were still at work, but this time they were inspired by the ceremonial of the papal court. The fruit of their labours would be used by all priests, regular and secular, sedentary (like monks and canons) and itinerant (like the Friars Minor).

The gestural prescriptions for the celebrant found in the Cluniac customs are largely to be found in this ordo missæ, with a few additions that we will describe below. It should also be noted that these prescriptions are now codified by the Indutus, to make them clearer, more universal and more permanent.

Let us see, then, in the order of execution, the elements of the Indutus that change in relation to the Cluniac rite:

  • Codification of gestures that are repeated several times during the Mass:
    • two types of inclination (deep and medium),
    • a kiss from the altar,
    • how to join hands,
    • how to hold them apart and elevated (the modest and measured attitude of the speaker was already described in the course of the Cluniac Mass),
    • how to bless the host and chalice together,
    • very little indication of voice volume.
  • No washbasin at the beginning of Mass.
  • No genuflection on arriving at or leaving the altar. In fact, there is no prescribed genuflection during the entire Mass. [Custom, of course, may have dictated such.]
  • Bow to the altar (in the middle) before moving away from it, during Mass, but not at the beginning or end.
  • Recitation of the proper pieces between the epistle and the Gospel (gradual, tract, alleluia).
  • The missal was moved to the left later: for the gospel and not for the epistle.
  • The chalice is prepared during the Mass (the wine is poured into it before the offertory, the water — after it has been blessed — during the offertory).
  • The offertory has more prayers:
    • the offertory antiphon after the initial “Oremus”,
    • a different one for each of the two oblations (Suscipe sancte Pater and Offerimus tibi),
    • another for the blessing and infusion of the water in the chalice (Deus qui humane),
    • an epiclesis prayer (Veni sanctificator),
    • one in honour of the Holy Trinity (Suscipe sancta trinitas).
  • The position of the host on the corporal in relation to the chalice is planned: the chalice is on the right, the host on the left.
  • Elevation of the host after consecration.
  • The joining of the fingers begins later (after the consecration of the chalice).
  • Beginning of reverence (bowing) before the holy species.
  • The chalice is uncovered/covered more frequently, which is more convenient thanks to the second corporal (folded), which serves only this purpose.
  • Bow while reciting the Agnus Dei.
  • Prayers in preparation for the kiss of peace and communion.
  • More precise mode of communion:
    • prayers, taking the paten and the chalice,
    • he prepares himself with Domine non sum dignus,
    • he signs himself with the paten or chalice before taking communion with the body and blood,
    • he communes with the body through language.
  • Only the celebrant receives communion.
  • Two ablutions only (the first for the chalice and mouth, the second for the fingers).
  • Washbasin after ablutions.
  • Final blessing.

Conclusion

At the end of this study, we can establish that the Mass celebrated “in private” could date back to the first centuries of the Church, even if we have no irrefutable evidence at our disposal dating from before the eighth century. Its existence in the VI century is highly probable; it is of the order of very suitable to very likely for the first centuries. It was practised above all by sedentary priests living in communities (monks and canons) and by hermits, as well as by itinerant missionary priests. A certain development took place in the monasteries, at the time of the Carolingian reform, in particular when the foundations of Masses celebrated for the souls of the deceased appeared.

The ritual form of the “private” Mass has evolved over time and according to circumstances.

a) Over time, we have seen that its content has expanded. As the priest was the only liturgist, he did not provide the elements that were the responsibility of the ministers of the solemn Mass. This is why it was most likely reduced to pure sacrificium in the early days. It then gradually acquired the elements of the public Mass, from the 6th century onwards, and eventually became aligned with the latter. This was already the case, apart from a few elements, at the end of the XI century in the monasteries of the Cluniac order in France and the Empire.

Another development over time can be observed in the customs of these places: the considerable progress in the precision required of the celebrant in the sequence of gestures and words. So much so that by the end of the 11th century, in Cluny, the ritual of the “private” Mass — which was much more detailed than that of the solemn conventual Mass in terms of the celebrant’s gestures and attitudes — began to supplant it in its normative prerogative. This trend was confirmed in the ordo missæ “Indutus planeta”, in which the “private” Mass is clearly presented as the norm for all celebrations, even solemn ones. This ordo is the direct ancestor of the Ritus servandus in celebratione Missae of the 1570 missal, which clearly presents the “private” Mass as the basis on which the actions prescribed for the deacon and subdeacon of the solemn Mass are grafted from time to time.

b) We can also deduce from our study that the form of the “private” Mass may have varied according to circumstances.

A sedentary priest living in a community (particularly a monk), because he has little time to celebrate (he may have to celebrate several Masses a day) and also attends the conventual Mass, may be content with a more restrained ritual form, beginning directly at the start of the offertory. [21]

On the other hand, an itinerant priest, who may not have a server and who does not attend conventual Mass, will more naturally follow a more complete ritual.

A true organic development

In retrospect, it seems logical that the ritual of the “private” Mass should necessarily have become closer to that of the solemn Mass over time, in order to show outwardly that it was identical in nature to the solemn Mass. We have just emphasised that this is precisely what happened.

However, our analysis also shows that this rapprochement was not without its difficulties. For example, it seems that the more the “private” Mass ritually resembled the public Mass, the more it distracted the faithful from the latter. There were certainly other reasons for the decline in interest in the solemn public Mass between the 10th and 13th centuries, but competition from the “private” Mass was certainly one of them. A certain balance was found, notably by allowing monk-priests the option of not taking communion at conventual Mass[22]. Apart from this question of communion, the priest was entirely free to celebrate “privately” or not. Clearly, there was never any obligation to celebrate it, nor, conversely, any lasting and general prohibition. The rare prohibitions related to the abusive use made of the “private” Mass (solitary Masses, domestic Masses, multiple daily celebrations or others) and not to the principle itself; the judgment of Saint Francis, which did not last, was advice rather than an obligation.

We can therefore reasonably affirm that this ritual development took place organically: slowly, progressively, with interventions by the authorities — both in terms of the conditions to be met in order to celebrate “in private” and the ritual form to be followed — which remained discreet and limited to cases of manifest abuse[23]. Consequently, the “private” Mass is indeed traditional in the Roman Church.

A morning in Fontgombault, like the one Card. Ratzinger would have seen

Replies to objections

Allow us to respond to a legitimate objection to “private” celebrations.

Many rightly point out the risk of losing the communal dimension of the Eucharistic sacrifice by attending or celebrating “private” Mass. This is the case of Vogel, who points out that in the past the fermentum made it possible not to isolate one Mass from another. [24] This rite manifested outwardly the unity of all celebrations with that of the pope and, through it, with the paschal mystery that it makes present. Each Mass is therefore linked to Christ’s redemptive action, performed “once and for all” [25], and is thus united with all the other Masses. Moreover, this rite of fermentum also shows that the Mass is not a simple ascetic exercise or private devotion [26]: the Mass is not an action of the celebrant and the assistants, but is truly the action of Christ and the Church.

It seems to us that the rubrics, which have developed considerably and reached such a degree of precision that nothing seems to have been left to chance, providentially play the role that the fermentum once played. They ensure that all the Masses are united by the observance of common rules. They also show the communion of the priest with his hierarchy, by asking him to obey the rules emanating from it. Finally, by obeying, the priest imitates the example of the Son, the High Priest, who did not come to do his own will, but that of his Father.

After recalling that “priestly spirituality is intrinsically Eucharistic”, Benedict XVI, in the apostolic exhortation Sacramentum caritatis, recommends that priests “celebrate Mass daily, even without the participation of the faithful” [27]. He added:
This recommendation corresponds first and foremost to the objectively infinite value of each Eucharistic celebration; it then draws from it a reason for particular spiritual effectiveness, because, if it is lived attentively and with faith, the Mass is formative in the deepest sense of the term, in that it promotes conformation to Christ and strengthens the priest in his vocation. [28]
I’ll leave the last word to Benedict XVI. When he was still Cardinal Ratzinger and visiting Notre-Dame de Fontgombault Abbey in 2001 for the Liturgical Days, he confided something to Dom Antoine Forgeot, the Abbot. During his stay, the cardinal had been able to celebrate the conventual Mass alone, which all the monks — including priests — had attended. At dawn on the morning of his departure, the Father Abbot invited him to walk through the abbey church one last time before returning to his car. This was precisely the moment when nine monk-priests were offering the holy sacrifice, as they did every morning, at the same time, “in private”, each on his own altar. The cardinal admired this timeless spectacle in silence for a few moments; then, as he left the car, he whispered in his host’s ear: “Now that’s the Catholic Church!” [29]

NOTES

[1] Cf. S.J.P. Van Dijk — J.H. Walker The Origins 51-52. We were unable to investigate this question further.

[2] Quoted in: G. Derville (2011) La concélébration eucharistique. Du symbole à la réalité Wilson & Lafleur Ltée, Montréal, 15.

[3] It is clear that for a brother priest, the “private” celebration can be compatible — with a little organisation — with attending community Mass. On the other hand, it prevents him from taking Communion. The same can be said for the non-priest brother who serves “private” Mass. Cf. in particular: R. Grégoire (1967-1968) La communion des moines-prêtres à la messe d’après les coutumiers monastiques médiévaux: “Sacris Erudiri” 18, 524-549, and more particularly the first point of the conclusion on page 547.

[4] This way of doing things was also in force for cardinals during conclaves until 1922: a single Mass celebrated by just one, at which all attended and received communion, without being able to celebrate “in private”, let alone concelebrate sacramentally as we understand it today.

[5] “Si sunt plures sacerdotes in loco secrete possunt cantare missam quam volunt.

[6] Ordo romanus XV, 121-156: M. Andrieu Les Ordines III, 120-125. We have added the Paduensis Gregorian Sacramentary: A. Catella — F. dell’Oro — A. Martini Liber Sacramentorum Paduensis 375-383.

[7] We studied four customs: the Cluniac customs of Bernard (Bernardus Ordo Cluniacensis 72: M. Herrgott Vetus disciplina monastica 263-265), the Cluniac customs of Ulrich (Udalricus Cluniacensis Antiquiores Consuetudines Cluniacensis Monasterii II, 30: PL 149, 724A-725A), the customs of Hirsau (Wilhelmus Constitutiones Hirsaugienses I, 86: PL 150, 1015C-1020C) and the customs of Farfa (Odilo Abbas Liber tramitis aevi II, 24: Corpus Consuetudinum Monasticarum 10, 232-233).

[8] It can be consulted here: S.J.P. Van Dijk [edr] (1963) Sources of the Modern Roman Liturgy. The Ordinals by Haymo of Faversham and related documents (1243-1307), II: Texts, E.J. Brill, Leiden, 1-14.

[9] Cf. M. Righetti La Messa 148-149. The hypothesis is based first and foremost on common sense: deprived of the assistance of the faithful and the presence of several ministers, the celebrant — from the moment the existence of Masses “deprived of solemnity” is admitted — reproduces in these celebrations the essentials of the rite of the Mass (which he usually celebrates in public), but suppresses the parts that are properly communal (such as the psalmodic chants, the readings and the homily). Righetti bases this hypothesis on a passage by Tertullian in which he evokes the alternative between offering the (Eucharistic) sacrifice and serving the Word of God: “aut sacrificium offertur, aut Dei verbum administratur” (Tertullianus De cultu fœminarum II, 11: PL 1, 1329B), one excluding the other, and vice versa. Let us acknowledge that this written proof is far from incontestable, but that it nevertheless enjoys a certain degree of probability.

[10] We can identify five main regions in which the Roman liturgy developed from around 375 AD: Africa, Gaul, Spain, Italy (outside Rome) and Rome (cf. C. Vogel Introduction 20-30).

[11] This is the case for the Sanctus, the recitation of which is explicitly requested at “private” Mass (since it is recited at public Masses) by a canon of the Second Council of Vaison (529).

[12] The Kyrie consists of the simple invocations “Kyrie eleison” and “Christe eleison”. It is both a penitential rite, preparing the priest inwardly for the sacrifice that is to follow, and a prayer of intercession. Indeed, it is the probable descendent of the Deprecatio gelasiana, which was itself a prayer of intercession, and its concluding oration (the collect) is precisely the descendent of the oration concluding the Deprecatio gelasiana.

[13] The formula for the Collect is given in the libellus or sacramentary.

[14] The formula for the oration super oblata is given in the libellus or sacramentary.

[15] The formula for the preface is given in the libellus or sacramentary.

[16] We know that at least the central part of the Roman canon was already in force in the Roman rite at the time of Ambrose of Milan. He quoted entire passages from it in his De sacramentis in 390 (cf. Ambrose of Milan Des Sacrements: Botte, B. [edr] (1961) (SCh 25 bis), Cerf, Paris, 114-116).

[17] Additional elements from the previous stage are marked in bold.

[18] Additional elements from the previous stage are marked in bold.

[19] The kiss of peace does not take place at Masses for the dead.

[20] The celebrant alone receives communion at Masses for the deceased.

[21] This seems to have been the case in Rome, for the solemn Mass on Holy Thursday, in the seventh century.

[22] It was precisely the communion of all priests at the same conventual Mass that Saint Francis of Assisi wanted to restore to honour.

[23] Cf. the criteria for the organic development of the liturgy put forward by A. Reid and mentioned in the introduction.

[24] Cf. C. Vogel Une mutation 246.

[25] Hb 9, 12.

[26] C. Vogel seems to contrast the individual opus bonum dimension of the Mass with its dimension as a community act (cf. C. Vogel Une mutation 247-248). Yet the two are complementary and not opposed.

[27] Benedict XVI Sacramentum Caritatis 80.

[28] Id. 80.

[29] Dom Antoine Forgeot, mb, confirmed these facts on oath in a handwritten letter dated 14/02/2014 addressed to the author.

Sunday, April 14, 2024

Good Shepherd Sunday 2024

I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep. But the hireling, and he that is not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and flieth: and the wolf catcheth, and scattereth the sheep: And the hireling flieth, because he is a hireling: and he hath no care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd; and I know mine, and mine know me. As the Father knoweth me, and I know the Father: and I lay down my life for my sheep. And other sheep I have, that are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd. (John 10, 11-16)

The Good Shepherd, by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617-82), ca. 1660; Museo del Prado, Madrid. The ruined classical building in the background on the left represents the fallen world renewed by Christs coming, as it does also in Nativity scenes; the flock on the right alludes to the 99 sheep whom the shepherd leaves behind to seek the one that has wandered (Matthew 18, 12-13). The Christ Child wears a purple garment, the color of royalty, to indicate His divinity, and a rough skin in brown over it, to indicate His humbling of Himself in the Incarnation. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Saturday, April 13, 2024

Tenebrae 2024 Photopost (Part 2)

This post concludes the Tenebrae part of our Holy Week photopost series; we will move on to the other ceremonies of the Triduum next week. Many thanks to all the contributors - feliciter!

Oratory of Ss Gregory and Augustine – St Louis, Missouri
Courtesy of Kiera Petrick

Blessed Rolando Rivi

On this day in the year 1945, a 14-year old Italian seminarian named Rolando Rivi died as a martyr in a little town called Monchio, in the province of Modena. Rolando was born in 1931, and began serving Mass at the age of five; he made his first Communion on the feast of Corpus Christi, June 16, 1938. In 1942, at the age of 11, he entered the minor seminary at Marola, and was admired by his teachers as an exemplary student, and a boy of sincere and serious devotion. As was the custom in those days, he was clothed in the cassock, and wore the saturno as part of the regular clerical dress; already at that tender age, he expressed the desire to become a missionary. He was noted as both an excellent singer and musician, and participated enthusiastically in the seminary choir.

The young Rolando was the kind of fellow who shows himself to be a leader in every activity, and his grandmother is reported to have said, with the special wisdom of Italian grandmothers, that he would end up as “a saint or a scoundrel.” Many stories are told of him encouraging his friends to come to church for Mass or devotions after a soccer game. During his summer vacation, he continued to dress and live as a seminarian, with no remission from his devotional life of daily Mass, rosary, meditation and prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. Many times he said that the cassock was a sign “that I belong to Jesus.”

In the summer of 1944, the seminary at Marola was occupied by German troops, and Rolando was forced to return home; he was able, however, to continue his studies with the local parish priest. He continued to wear the cassock in public, despite his parents’ concerns that this would make him a target of the anticlerical violence then rampant in north-central Italy. And indeed, by the time Rolando returned home from the seminary, his former parish priest had been moved out of the area for safety’s sake. In the years immediately after the collapse of Italian fascism in July 1943, nearly 100 priests were murdered by Communist partisans in the part of the Emilia-Romagna known as the “red triangle.”

On April 10, 1945, a group of these partisans kidnapped Rolando as he was studying in a little grove near his home; his parents discovered both his books and a note from the partisans warning them not to look for him. He was taken to a farmhouse, beaten and tortured for three days, under the absurd accusation that he had been a spy for the Germans; he was then dragged into a woods, stripped of his cassock, and shot twice in the head. The partisans rolled his cassock up into a ball and used it to play soccer.

His father and parish priest discovered his body the following day. He was buried temporarily in the cemetery of the town where he was killed, but translated a month later to his native place, San Valentino. Since the day of his death often falls in Holy Week or Easter week, his liturgical feast is kept on the day of this translation, May 29th. The decree recognizing that his violent death was inflicted “in odium fidei” was signed by the Pope on March 28, 2013, and his beatification as a martyr was celebrated on October 5th of that year. His relics now repose in the church of San Valentino di Castellarano; on his tomb is written “Io sono di Gesù”, Italian for “I belong to Jesus.”

I make bold to suggest that Bl. Rolando is a good person to appeal to if you know any seminarians who need prayers, and especially those who are persecuted for their love of the Church’s traditions; and further, that it would not be a bad idea to consider what it was about the Church that Rolando Rivi lived in that enabled him to face martyrdom so bravely at the age of only 14. Beate Rolande, ora pro nobis!

Friday, April 12, 2024

A Review of Eleanor Parker’s Winters in the World

St. Augustine preaching to Ethelbert and Bertha
Eleanor Parker’s Winters in the World: A Journey Through the Anglo-Saxon Year (London: Reaktion Books, 2022)

It is said that when Pope St Gregory the Great commissioned St Augustine of Canterbury to convert the pagan Anglo-Saxons to Christianity after they displaced the Celtic Christian Britons in the sixth century, he instructed the missionary to respect local customs and uproot only what is harmful or impious. If the Anglo-Saxon Christian culture that emerged a hundred years later is the fruit of Augustine’s efforts, then the Apostle of England and his spiritual descendants earn an A+ in inculturation. As Eleanor Parker writes in her latest book, Winters in the World: A Journey through the Anglo-Saxon Year, the Anglo-Saxon liturgical calendar and its attendant beliefs were “at one and the same time, firmly rooted in Anglo-Saxon culture and fully part of the wider international church [sic]” (21).

Parker is well equipped to explain how. The author of two other books on medieval England and of the award-winning blog, A Clerk of Oxford, Parker has a confident command of the primary sources of Anglo-Saxon literature and a good instinct for how to interpret them. She is also a fine storyteller, beginning her chapters with a fetching scenario and perhaps not explaining it until the end.
Parker’s goal in Winters is twofold: to reconstruct the Anglo-Saxon year and to introduce her audience to the under-appreciated but “immensely rich and creative literature of Anglo-Saxon England” (7). The year in question was in some respects profoundly different from our own. Prior to their conversion to Christianity in the seventh century (and by default, to the Roman reckoning of time), the Anglo-Saxons had a lunisolar calendar that consisted of ten months and only two seasons: winter and summer. While we think of late December as the beginning of winter, Anglo-Saxons thought of the same date as “midwinter,” halfway through its course. Similarly, while we think of June 24 as a few days after the start of summer, our forebears thought of it as “midsummer.”
Anglo-Saxon authors often used the seasons of winter and summer as a synecdoche for the year. Folks counted their age by how many “winters in the world” they had spent, while our word year is derived from gear, an Old English word for summer (16). The Christian calendar was itself a synthesis of Jewish and Roman calendars, but at least both were anchored in the Mediterranean. Now that calendar was being applied to a country on the edge of northern Europe with significantly different seasons and agricultural cycles. Yet somehow a successful fusion occurred and was “remarkably durable,” (21) more or less surviving the Vikings, the Normans, and the Reformation until the twentieth century alienated the average Englishman from the rhythms of agriculture and changed the meaning of his holidays.
Henrietta Marshall, “Stories of Beowulf,” 1908
On the surface, the Christian Anglo-Saxon year might appear to be only partially converted. In contrast to other languages, English has a number of ostensibly pagan holdouts: “Yule” and “Midwinter” are used for Advent and Christmas (68-73) while “Lent” (Spring) and “Easter” (a goddess) signify the Great Fast and the Feast of the Resurrection, respectively (17, 123-24). Yet Parker sets the record straight. “For Anglo-Saxon writers, adopting [these] terms…into Christian vocabulary was a way of interpreting their own culture and environment in the light of their Christian faith, finding in these terms a new meaning that was, in their eyes, more true and powerful” (73).
Examples abound. The season of Advent, with its anticipation of the Second Coming, found resonance in Old Norse fears of a winter apocalypse (62). Candlemas, the feast of the Purification on February 2, heralds the coming of Spring, when winter is “carried out of the dwellings”; just as Mary bears Christ to the Temple, so too is winter borne away (89). Lent, the name for which is derived from the Anglo-Saxon for to grow or lengthen, is a reminder that bodily mortifications facilitate spiritual growth (108-17). On Good Friday, Anglo-Saxons interpreted the Crucifixion through their warrior culture, worshiping Christ as the conqueror of death and Hell (133): the Dream of the Rood, Parker notes, “resonates in many ways with the liturgy of Good Friday” (130). The feast of the Holy Cross on May 3 had special significance in the Anglo-Saxon imagination, for according to Scandinavian myth mankind was made from a tree, and trees were associated with a parent’s loss of his child (216) The lesser Rogationtide (or “Gang Days,” from “walking about”) were replete with meaning to the Anglo-Saxon mind, providing a time for social interaction and a blessing of the land (159-62). On Ascension Day, Christ was envisioned as a springtime bird, “moving with ease between heaven and earth” (163):
So the beautiful bird took to flight.
Now he sought the home of the angels,
That glorious country, bold and strong in might;
Now he swung back to earth again,
Sought the ground by grace of the Spirit,
Returned to the world (163).
Ascension folio, 13th century
The Nativity of Saint John the Baptist on June 24 mixed with the awe and fears of midsummer (172-78). August 1 was Lammas Day (“Loaf’s Mass Day”), when the wheat harvest reminded Anglo-Saxons that the “lord” was the “bread-guardian” and the “lady” was the “bread-kneader” (193). For Michaelmas on September 29, Michael was a “psychopomp” (a new word for me) “who guided souls to the afterlife and the bearer of the scales of divine justice” (206). In other words, Michael, like the laborers who honored him during this season, was a harvester.
Unlike the Celts who turned their Samhain into All Hallows’ Eve on October 31, the Anglo-Saxons preferred Hallowmas Day on November 1, “which reflected a profound devotion to the saints which was as deeply felt in Anglo-Saxon England as it was anywhere in the medieval church [sic]” (221). “To believe in the saints,” Parker writes, “was to be part of a vast community, a fellowship that encompassed the living and the dead in one” (ibid).
Parker is also good at debunking myths about the Anglo-Saxon appropriation of Christianity. Contrary to popular belief, no literature from the period mentions the Easter bunny or Easter eggs. Eggs are not linked to Easter until the late Middle Ages (after the Norman conquest in 1066), and references to hares and rabbits are much later (126).
Winters in the World is enlightening and entertaining. It is a reminder of the universality of the Gospel, and a testimony to the power of the Gospel to inform, enrich, and transform every people, tribe, and tongue. Would that all evangelizations were so successful.

This review first appeared in  Antiphon: A Journal for Liturgical Renewal 27:2 (2023), pp. 270-273. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

Tenebrae 2024 Photopost (Part 1)

Marching on into the Triduum, here is the first set of photos of Tenebrae services. As always, there is always room and time for more, so please feel free to send yours in to photopost@newliturgicalmovement.org, and don’t forget to include the name and location of the church; and of course, our thanks to all the contributors - feliciter!

St Mary’s Oratory – Wausau, Wisconsin (ICRSS)
Tenebrae of Holy Thursday

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