Have you ever wondered why we do what we do at Mass?
Why do we say the Kyrie three times three times?
Why does the priest remove his Beretta or the Bishop remove his miter during the Gospel?
Why do we ring the bells during the consecration?
Who are the Saints listed after the consecration, and why are they mentioned?
While the richness of the gestures at Mass are inexhaustible, and there are usually multiple reasons for doing various things, this recent podcast series walks a listener through the Mass and explains why the priest does many of the gestures that he does, and sometimes why the lay faithful in the pews do what we do.
The collect is an ecclesiastical and liturgical prayer early on in the Mass, preceded by “Oremus” (“let us pray”). It’s the most important liturgical prayer of the day, as it’s also recited during the Divine Office at Lauds, Terce, Sext, None, and Vespers.
Now, if we look at the collect itself, what are the four parts:
First, an address to God the Father (at least, most of them).
Second, a dependent clause: we explain why we are praying to him
Third, a petition: we’re asking for something.
Fourth, the final clause: Per Dominum nostrum Iesum Christum Filium Tuum…
Here’s an excerpt from Fr. Adrian Fortescue in his 1912 work The Mass: A Study of the Roman Liturgy:
In any case, the logical order and style of the old collects is quite marked. Nothing in the
Missal is so redolent of the character of our rite, nothing so Roman as the old collects – and nothing, alas, so little Roman as the new ones. The old collect is always very short. It asks for one thing only, and that in the tersest language. Generally, the petition is of quite a general kind: that we may obtain what we ask, that the Church be protected in peace, and so on. It begins generally with a vocative, “Deus,” “Omnipotens sempiterne Deus,” “Domine Deus noster,” always addressed to God the Father. Then we often have a dependent clause explaining why we pray: “qui” or “quia”; sometimes merely an apposition: “auctor ipse pietatis”. Then comes the petition, often doubled in antithesis: …or a double clause not antithetic… It is in the petition-clause especially that we find all manner of really beautiful phrases, compact, saying much in few words with beautifully condensed construction, such as is most characteristic of the weighty dignity of the Latin language. Greek is subtle, pliant, effervescent; Greek prayers in the Easter rites are long poetic rhapsodies strewn with flowers of rhetoric. Latin is poor, austere, but with a stately dignity that exactly suits the Roman character. So in the Roman Latin rite we have such a trampling march of syllables as: “Sicut illis magnificentiam tribuit sempiternam, ita nobis perpetuum munimen operetur.”
Then comes the final clause “Per Dominum nostrum,” that ends all Western prayers. (pp 249-250).
Let’s look at the Feast of St. James, the Apostle:
Oremus. Esto, Dómine, plebi tuæ sanctificátor et custos: ut, Apóstoli tui Iacóbi muníta præsídiis, et conversatióne tibi pláceat, et secúra mente desérviat. Per Dóminum nostrum Iesum Christum, Fílium tuum: qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti Deus, per ómnia sǽcula sæculórum.
Here’s the English translation, but we’ll analyze the original Latin.
Let us pray. Protect Your people and make them holy, O Lord, so that, guarded by the help of Your Apostle James, they may please You by their conduct and serve You with peace of mind. Through Jesus Christ, thy Son our Lord, Who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end.
First, the address to God: Domine
Second, the dependent clause: ut, Apóstoli tui Iacóbi muníta præsídiis, et conversatióne tibi pláceat, et secúra mente desérviat
Third, a petition: Esto plebi tuæ sanctificátor et custos
Fourth, the closing: Per Dominum nostrum…
For a helpful podcast episode, which contains more than just details on the Collect, visit here.
On a few occasions during the liturgical year, immediately following the Alleluia, an additional chant is sung. Instead of the priest/deacon beginning the Gospel Acclamation, another chat begins. This might catch you off guard or, if you’re following along in your hand missal, you might recognize that something else is about to happen.
A “Sequence” is a poetic text sung (or recited) used just before the Gospel Acclamation on five special feasts during the liturgical year.
Easter Sunday (and Octave) Victimae Paschali
Pentecost Sunday (and Octave) Veni Sancte Spiritus
Corpus Christi Lauda Sion
Our Lady of Sorrows Stabat Mater
Requiem Mass Dies Irae
From Dom Prosper Gueranger’s “The Prayers and Ceremonies of the Holy Mass” (p. 9-10):
On certain Solemnities, there is added to the Alleluia or Tract what is called the Sequence (Sequentia). It was added to the chant of the mass long after the time of Saint Gregory; the addition was made some time about the 9th century. It received the name of Sequence, that is to say, sequel, because it originally consisted of certain words adapted to the notes which form a sequel to the word, Alleluia, and which were called Sequentia, even before the introduction of the Sequence.
It is called, also, the prose (Prosa), because originally it bore no resemblance either to the metrical hymns composed by ancient writers, nor to cadenced rhythms which appeared later on. It was a real piece of prose, which was sung in the manner we have described as a way of putting words to the pneuma of the Alleluia. By degrees, however, it partook of the character of a Hymn. The sequence thus added to the solemnity of the liturgy; and, whilst it was being sung, the Bells were rung, as now, and the Organ was played.
There was a Sequence for every Feast, and, therefore, for the Sundays during Advent. In the Roman Missal drawn up by order of St. Pius V, only four of the Sequences were retained. These four are the Victimae Paschali, which is the most ancient of all, and was followed as the model of the rest; the Veni Sancte Spiritus, the Lauda Sion, and the Dies irae. Later on, there was added the Stabat Mater. The monastic Missal has also the Laeta dies, for the feast of St. Benedict; it is a composition of the 16th century.
Ten Traditional Ways to Live the Catholic Faith as a Family
In our little corner of the world, many families are rediscovering the beauty of the Church’s traditional rhythms – living the faith not just on Sundays, but in every small act of daily life. Whether you’re new to tradition or have been growing in it for years, here are 10 traditional ways to live out your Catholic faith as a family, especially with little ones in tow.
Bless Your Meals with the Church’s Own Words
Yes, we all say grace before meals. But did you know the Rituale Romanum includes specific blessings for both lunch and dinner? These prayers aren’t just personal habits—they’re part of the Church’s official treasury of blessings. Consider learning the Latin versions as a family; the chant
Example (before meals):
“Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona…”
It’s a small way to mark every meal with reverence—and tie your table to the altars of the Church.
Pray the Divine Office (Liturgy of the Hours)
The traditional breviary is not just for priests! It’s a treasure for the entire Church. Families can begin simply—perhaps praying Compline (Night Prayer) together. Over time, you’ll begin to follow the Church’s ancient calendar of saints and feasts.
One helpful resource is DivinumOfficium.com, which offers the full traditional office in Latin and English.
And/or Pray the Rosary—the Layman’s Divine Office
Traditionally called the “breviary of the laity,” the rosary is a mini-Liturgy of the Hours for those not bound to the clerical office. The repetition is meditative, the mysteries rich in Scripture, and the rhythm perfect for young children. Try one decade each night for beginners, or a family rosary after dinner with the family, where each child recites one decade each. And, for those who desire, try different languages!
Sing the Seasonal Marian Antiphons
The Church assigns a beautiful hymn to Our Lady for each liturgical season. Singing these together—perhaps after dinner or at bedtime—is a wonderful way to teach children about the liturgical year and grow in love for Our Lady.
Advent – Christmas (through Feb 2): Alma Redemptoris Mater
Lent – Easter Vigil (begins Feb 2): Ave Regina Caelorum
Even toddlers love singing “Salve Regina” in the car or before bedtime!
Pray Before Traveling
Speaking of prayers in the car…
Before you hit the road, consider reciting the traditional blessing for a journey found in the Rituale Romanum. It’s a simple, profound way to start every trip by placing your family under divine protection.
Lectio Divina – “divine reading” – is a traditional way of slowly and prayerfully reading Scripture. Set aside 10 quiet minutes: read a passage from the Gospels, pause, and let everyone share a word or phrase that stood out. It’s not a Bible study – it’s listening to the voice of God.
Walk the Traditional Stations of the Cross
Most churches offer the Stations during Lent – but families can pray them year-round. Children love moving from station to station, especially when the images are vivid. You can use the St. Alphonsus Liguori meditations or other traditional texts, and let kids take turns carrying a crucifix.
Celebrate the “Churching” of Mothers
This beautiful blessing for new mothers – found in the Rituale Romanum – is a forgotten gem. It’s not about purification, but thanksgiving and reintegration. After childbirth, a mother is blessed and escorted back into the community by the Church in a small ceremony after Mass.
Live by the Traditional Liturgical Calendar
The traditional calendar – with Ember Days, Octaves, Vigils, and more – is rich and alive. It orients us to fast and feast in rhythm with the Church. Mark the calendar visibly in your home: honor saints’ days, bake for feasts, and tell the stories of the martyrs. This is how tradition comes alive! This is one reason why Una Voce DSM creates its own personalized TLM calendar every year!
Fast on Fridays – and Wednesdays
The traditional custom is no meat on Fridays, year-round. Some families also fast on Wednesdays (as early Christians did). Fasting isn’t just a rule – it’s an act of love. It reminds us that Christ fasted, that we’re not of this world, and that every bodily sacrifice can be offered for souls. Kids can fast from desserts, toys, or screen time, too!
In Closing: Tradition Is a Gift, Not a Guilt Trip
These aren’t “rules” to stress over – but invitations to deepen your family’s traditional expression of their life in Christ. You don’t have to do everything at once. Pick one or two. Let them grow naturally in your home.
Living the faith traditionally doesn’t mean withdrawing; it means anchoring your family in the timeless, beautiful, and holy practices that formed saints for centuries.
Let’s support each other in this journey, and raise up a generation of children who know where they come from – because they know where they’re going.
Have a traditional Catholic family devotion you’d love to share? Let us know at info@unavocedsm.org!
GREGORIAN CHANT IS SPECIAL. No doubt about it. But that’s as much as I’ll say on that front for now; others have waxed eloquent about its artistry and its unique qualities.
Today I want to focus on a more practical side of things than musically mystical musings. If Gregorian chant is so important, where do I start learning it? What pieces should I sing first?
Look no further! Here I will introduce you to a list of pieces, provide recordings of all of them, and supply you with a free PDF download containing all the chants at the end of the article. Excluding the Mass Ordinary (Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Agnus, Asperges, Vidi Aquam, etc.), I’ve collected here the ten chants I think are most important to know.
My determination of the top ten is not arbitrary. Here are the criteria influencing my choices:
They are frequently used. These chants regularly appear not only in the liturgy, but are likely to be sung by the laity in the course of daily devotions, processions, summer camps, etc.
These chants are culturally prominent. You will find these more often referenced in literature than other tunes.
These chants are textually rich. Their lyrics poetically embody numerous Catholic doctrines, pious beliefs, and devotional practices.
The chants here represent a wide varietyof the Gregorian repertoire: antiphons, hymns, sequences, even a Mass proper.
Let’s dig in — and sing along!
1. Salve Regina (Antiphon)
The smiling queen of heaven; a medieval ivory carving at the Cloister Museum in New York City (Photo: Julian Kwasniewski)
The first four should come as no surprise. These are the so-called Marian Antiphons which are sung after Compline every night, every day of the year wherever the Divine Office is celebrated. This is their primary official liturgical place, but they also show up elsewhere; in fact they tend to be among the most commonly sung chants at any public gathering of Catholics.
Each comes with a solemn and simple tone; and although you are most likely to hear the Roman version, there are slight and interesting variations in the monastic and mendicant versions of the same antiphons.
The current form of the Salve derives primarily from the splendid abbey of Cluny, which pioneered independent monastic houses, subject to the pope rather than local bishops. From there, it spread quickly in the course of the 1200s and 1300s all over Europe.
Many Catholics who know no other Gregorian Chant at least know the simple tone of the Salve Regina: we all know the text as the “Hail holy Queen” used to conclude the rosary. You can follow along with the simple tone here, and listen to the monks of Norcia singing the solemn monastic tone below:
Hail, O Queen of Heaven. Hail, O Lady of Angels Hail! thou root, hail! thou gate From whom unto the world a light has arisen. Rejoice, O glorious Virgin, Lovely beyond all others, Farewell, most beautiful maiden, And pray for us to Christ.
So runs the Ave Regina Coelorum, sung from the feast of the Purification (February 2) through Holy Week. Although the primary reference of Christ “rising” is to the incarnation, it could also be understood of His resurrection from death—and this is the antiphon sung throughout all of Lent!
I like those two very different metaphors: Mary as root and as gate. She is compared to something from the natural world and something from the man-made “technological” world. Do you know about plants? She and her Son’s coming are like that: a springing-up from the hidden depths. Do you only know about cities and man-made things? There’s still a comparison to be made that will work.
The simple tone of this antiphon is childlike and catchy:
This is the Marian antiphon used during Eastertide: its origins are unknown, but it too appears on the scene mid-way through the Middle Ages, first extant in a manuscript dating from c. 1200.
According to the Golden Legend of the Italian Archbishop Jacobus de Voragine, the first three lines of the antiphon were heard being chanted by Angels during a penitential procession in Rome in the time of Pope Gregory the Great, who then added the last line. This lovely story, which reinforces the traditional association of chant with Gregory the Great, is unlikely to be true, as is typical of much of the content of the Golden Legend, but no matter; the text is wonderful no matter where it comes from:
Queen of heaven, rejoice, alleluia. The Son you merited to bear, alleluia, Has risen as he said, alleluia. Pray to God for us, alleluia.
Here’s the simple tone, with faint organ accompaniment:https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/1LWeRfnEcwN31DYVryC3OX
And now the canons of St. Michael’s Abbey in California chanting the solemn tone:
4. Alma Redemptoris Mater
The depiction of Mary as virgo lactans is an artistic representation of Mary being the Alma Redemptoris Mater by giving Christ (in the words of Hopkins) “birth, milk, and all the rest.” (Source)
There are two beautiful translations of this antiphon I’d like to share:
Mother of Christ! hear thou thy people’s cry, Star of the deep, and portal of the sky! Mother of him who thee from nothing made, Sinking we strive, and call to thee for aid: Oh, by that joy which Gabriel brought to thee, Thou Virgin first and last, let us thy mercy see.
So goes the translation of Edward Caswall, a fellow Anglican convert and Oratorian confrere of John Henry Newman’s. Newman renders the same Latin antiphon this way:
Kindly Mother of the Redeemer, who art ever of heaven The open gate, and the star of the sea, aid a fallen people, Which is trying to rise again; thou who didst give birth, While Nature marveled how, to thy Holy Creator, Virgin both before and after, from Gabriel’s mouth Accepting the All hail, be merciful towards sinners.
The word alma is a very rich word. It derives from the proto-Indo-European for “to grow, nourish,” resulting in having as its primary senses “nourishing, kind, propitious.” Lewis and Short have:
nourishing, affording nourishment, cherishing (poetic epithet of Ceres, Venus, and other patron deities of the earth, of light, day, wine, etc…Hence, genial, restoring, reviving, kind, propitious, indulgent, bountiful, etc.
And they give examples of it being used to describe everything from Venus and Mother Earth to agricultural fields and female breasts. This puts me in mind of the artistic tradition of depicting Mary as the virgo lactans or “nursing virgin”. The Alma Redemptoris Mater—nourishing, cherishing Mother of the Redeemer—gives “birth, milk, and all the rest,” as Hopkins put it.
5. Victimae Paschali Laudes (Sequence)
The Sequence is a musical and poetic form that was once very widespread throughout European liturgy. It is a poem in honor of a saint or a mystery that usually falls after the Alleluia of the Mass, to prepare for the Gospel. Medieval and early Renaissance Catholics were accustomed to dozens more Sequences than we have now in our traditional rites. The Tridentine reform, ever conservative as Rome used to be, limited the Sequences to the small series that were already used in the papal court liturgy, and as a result, many of the Sequences of local rites were lost when the Roman missal was freely adopted in those places.
The Easter Sequence Victimae Paschali laudes — like many great works of art—has been attributed to quite an array of characters, including the 11th-century Wipo of Burgundy (chaplain of the Holy Roman Emperor Conrad II), Notker Balbulus (a monk of Sant Gall in Switzerland), Robert II of France (a French monarch), and Adam of St. Victor (a Parisian Master of Ceremonies and composer). The Victimae is a short sequence—made shorter by the fact that one antisemitic verse was excluded in the Tridentine reform: “More to be believed is truthful Mary by herself than the deceitful crowd of the Jews.”
Here’s the literal translation from Wikipedia:
Let Christians offer sacrificial praises to the passover victim. The Lamb has redeemed the sheep: The Innocent Christ has reconciled sinners to the Father. Death and life contended in a spectacular battle: the dead leader of life reigns alive. Tell us, Mary, what did you see on the way? “I saw the tomb of the living Christ and the glory of his rising, The angelic witnesses, the shroud, and the clothes.” “Christ my hope is arisen; he will go before his own [you] into Galilee.” We know Christ is truly risen from the dead! On us, Conqueror King, have mercy! Amen. Alleluia.
Trinity from Les Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne (source)
Fifty days after Easter falls the great solemnity of Pentecost — and it has its own sequence too, which is so beautiful that it has been called “The Golden Sequence.” We don’t know for sure who wrote the text; two likely 13th-century candidates are Pope Innocent III and Stephen Langton, the Archbishop of Canterbury. Langton, incidentally, is most famous for being the one who (more or less successfully) divided up the books of the Bible into the system of chapters used by everyone today. It can be hard to believe that prior to the end of the 12th century, there were no chapters. (Verse numbers came even later: the 15th century for the Old Testament, and the 16th century for the New.)
With light organ in the background, this recording of the Golden Sequence preserves the alternation between cantors and full choir.
This is probably the best known chant of the whole bunch, plastered all over the internet with masochistic-looking monks hunched in black hoods. Despite being one of the most iconic features of the Requiem Mass, this chant is not the “Dark Occult Monastic Ambient Gregorian with Bible” that AI-generated YouTube videos would have you believe. The catchy melody has worked its way into dozens of great pieces of classical music, and later into movie soundtracks: Star Wars, The Lion King, The Lord of the Rings, Frozen, and Dune, to name a few better-known ones.
Cultural allusions and illusions aside, you will find in the Dies Irae a poem of intensely gentle medieval piety. Oscar Wilde objected to the focus on judgement, writing in On Hearing the Dies Iræ Sung in the Sistine Chapel that he found beauty in nature spoke more clearly of God than “thundering”:
Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring, Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove, Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love Than terrors of red flame and thundering.
I disagree with Mr. Wilde. Although it opens with “day of doom impending,” it winds up calling Jesus the “fount of mercy”—and the word pietatis derives from the love of a father accepting his child as his own. Against our own sinful frailty, it also calls to mind the humanity of Christ: “Seeking me, You rested, tired.” This is a reference to the pericope of the Samaritan woman at the well, and seems to suggest that it is Christ’s humanity that gives us confidence in the face of judgment.
I would sit with the text for a while, especially with the Latin which is much more fluid and beautiful than any English translations.
8. Ave maris stella (Hymn)
The Notre-Dame de la Belle Verrière (Our Lady of the Beautiful Glass) window in Chartres Cathedral, famed for its unreproducible blue (Photo: Julian Kwasniewski)
This is the great Marian hymn. Probably originating earlier than the other Marian antiphons here, we see a beautiful exploration of Mary’s ancient title “Star of the Sea.” This hymn also includes a clever pun:
Sumens illud “Ave” Gabrielis ore, funda nos in pace, mutans Evæ nomen.
Playing off the fact that Ave in Latin is the same word as “Eve” spelled backwards (Eva), the poem links the “yes” of the new Eve to the “no” of the old Eve. The very first word that the angel spoke to Mary already signified the one whose bad choice her good choice would reverse:
Receiving that “Ave” From the mouth of Gabriel, Establish us in peace, Transforming the name of “Eva.”
My favorite stanza is the penultimate one:
Bestow a pure life, Prepare a safe way: That seeing Jesus, We may ever rejoice.
The last two lines in Latin are ut videntes Jesum / semper collætemur. Perhaps I’m extrapolating too much, but the use of collætemur is significant to me. It could have just been lætemur, which is effectively a synonym: both mean rejoice. But collætemur sounds to me like it derives from co+laetare, with co being “together,” collætemur then implying a social dimension — not just any kind of rejoicing, but “rejoicing together.”
To my mind this hints at the fact that one of heaven’s great incidental joys must certainly be the unity that souls will experience with each other. We don’t rejoice in isolation: we collætemur with all our friends.
Earliest known manuscript of Sub tuum praesidium in Greek, dated between 3rd to 9th centuries.
The Sub Tuum Praesidium is likely the oldest chant on the list. The Latin of this prayer might be the “latercomer” translation: ancient versions exist in Greek, Coptic, Syriac, and Armenian. Scholars heavily debate the dating of the papyrus scrap pictured above, some arguing for the late 3rd century, others advocating a century as late as the 9th, but it has been discovered in a chant book from Jerusalem indicating liturgical use in at least the 5th century.
This chant is short and easy to learn: it is sometimes prayed after the rosary, but is appropriate year-round, for any necessity.
This might surprise you as making it onto a “short-list” of chant, but the Requiem Introit is indeed one of the most consoling pieces in the Gregorian Repertoire. It represents in some way the entire Requiem itself: the soft, gentle, soothing rite which accompanies the deceased’s body to the grave, or which prays for any of the departed souls for whom we offer prayers. The Roman Requiem is quite unlike the Byzantine funeral rite, which graphically and lengthily repeats lines about kissing the body for the last time, emphasizes how recently he was among men, with his relatives, and how quickly the corpse will decay. Rather, the Requiem adopts a more butler-like aspect, a somber presence you hardly notice is even there. The prayers barely intrude any specifics, only mentioning the departed’s name when absolutely necessary (the Byzantine, in contrast, constantly repeats it).
When it comes to the music, I love the floating opening, the sedate and restrained rise of the melody and the flat thrown in there on eis in the first line. Here’s Christopher Jasper of the Gregorian Chant Academy singing it:
FINAL STEP: Download the PDF
It would be silly to encourage you all to sing these ten chants without making them easily accessible. All of them can be found in the free download below—crisp, and easy to read, with the notation sourced from GregoBase. Not only do I include the simple and solemn tones for the Marian Antiphons, I’ve even included the solemn monastic versions of them as well. Happy chanting!
A story goes, in the wake of the liturgical reforms following the Second Vatican Council, the monks of a Benedictine religious community in southern France fell mysteriously ill, with no remedy to be found. In desperation, the esteemed researcher Dr. Alfred Tomatis was called to the scene. The son of an opera singer, Tomatis grew up with music, and spent much of his childhood watching his father sing opera on the stage. Tomatis went into medicine, where he discovered the Mozart Effect, became a specialist in problems with hearing and language, and father of the field known as audio-psycho-phonology.
Tomatis ascertained that not long before the onset of the monks’ malaise, the monastery had altered their daily practice of singing the Divine Office together. They had switched from singing the formerly prescribed Gregorian chants, in favor of praying in their native tongue, and had reduced the total amount of time devoted to daily prayer in community. Tomatis knew from his research that if you change the way the ear works, you affect all the body’s major functions. These changes, in turn, can produce profound transformations in how we function: this is known as the “Tomatis Effect”. Tomatis prescribed that the monks’ former practice of chanting the Hours be restored, and the listless monks were quickly restored to health.
Tomatis wrote later in his book, Pourquois Mozart?: “Woe to us if we wish to present Church singing as a therapeutic material. Yet, few works, besides Mozart’s, have such a radical impact on the human being…A soul attuned to the chant starts to vibrate to the first and essential rhythms. Gregorian chant allows us to perceive this vibration of the soul when it reaches the register of serenity. Then, man is involved in a timeless communication and regains his natural breathing, that is, unstressed and without gasping. Through the Gregorian modulations, he discovers a privileged space where his being momentarily can rest, aloof from the daily trials.
“To tell the truth, Gregorian chant gives a glimpse of paradise to those who wish it. Man is reintegrated into the creation and sings the glory of the Creator. The Gregorian muse is certainly a jewel which centuries have slowly elaborated. In matters of religious singing, it is assuredly the summit of what man can do in search of God. Obviously, there are here and there some variations due to the temperament of the composer or the requirement of the liturgy at a certain period. But regardless of those variations, the Gregorian pieces are universal in their musical and vibratory content. “
Today, Gregorian chant is an essential component of therapy according to the Tomatis Method. The Method is used to heal auditory processing problems, dyslexia, learning disabilities, attention deficit disorders, autism, and sensory processing and motor-skill difficulties. It is also claimed to have helped adults fight depression, learn foreign languages faster, develop better communication skills, and improve both creativity and on-the-job performance.
What do *you* notice when you sing Gregorian chant?
We like to share the occasional testimonial, and this came to us during calendar season, when someone was purchasing a calendar for his home use.
Check out this letter:
Please take a moment to pray an Ave (Hail Mary) for this revert, but then also a second Ave for all those who attended Christmas last week that they may return to the Church and weekly Mass attendance.
I was raised Catholic by very faithful parents and was born very near the time that the Novus Ordo was instituted by Pope Paul. I attended Mass in that form until I was 51 years old, but have always been drawn to a more traditional form of worship. For example, I was always drawn to singing Venite Adoremus at Christmas Mass. Traditional hymns, incense, and bells all made me ponder God more deeply and in some way I could have a connection to the way my ancestors worshipped. As I grew older and found myself more interested in the Church and its history, I found articles online discussing the TLM. Since I had only known the Novus Ordo my entire life, I wondered what worship was like for my ancestors (my mother’s family immigrated from Luxembourg in the 1800s).
In 2018, I decided to try and see if there was a TLM in Des Moines. Much to my surprise, I found out that TLM was offered at St. Anthony’s by Msgr. Chiodo. I decided to attend once “just to see what it was like”.
Perhaps it was not instantaneous, but very soon after, I started making connections to everything that I had read. I was struck by the beauty of the Mass including the music, incense, and silence.
The TLM made me understand why Catholic churches were built the way they were. It made me want to know more about the Faith. The reverence displayed toward the Most Blessed Sacrament deepens my understanding and humbles me.
Through Una Voce Des Moines, I was able to attend sessions on traditional church architecture, as well as hear Fr. Ripperger discuss his work as an exorcist. And very importantly, I sensed an immediate connection to the way my mom’s family had worshipped in Luxembourg, and that connects me to regularly worshipping among faith-filled people who take the Catholic Church seriously.
In this sense, the TLM is like an oasis of sanity in this world. There is a sense of peace and calmness that is found nowhere else. An additional effect is that I’ve deepened my knowledge of Latin, and now I’m able to respond at Mass and even sing some of the hymns.
While I am only one individual, I can certainly imagine that if the TLM has had this impact on me, there are certainly many others who have been blessed in a similar fashion.
Why the 2ndConfiteor anyway? After all, haven’t we already said a Double Confiteor at the beginning of Mass during the Prayers at the Foot of the Altar (one for the priest and one for the servers/people in attendance at Mass)?
Picture Moses removing his sandals when he comes before the Lord who speaks to him from the burning bush because he is on holy ground! We are removing the ‘sandals’ of earthly attachment so that we can enter into the Holy of Holies.’ Having prepared ourselves by this initial Confiteor, is the 2ndConfiteor before the communion of the faithful just more useless repetition that adds to the overall length of the Mass? Or is there a theological significance to its placement later in the liturgy as well?
Some history:
In former times (pre- Pope St. Pius X), the normative method for the distribution of Holy Communion to the faithful was for reception to occur outside of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass itself. Therefore, prior to the time of St. Pius X, the distribution of communion to the faithful outside of the Mass (usually immediately following it), began with the Confiteor, as directed by the rubrics. This was normal for all the days of the year except two, namely Maundy Thursday and Corpus Christi. On those two feasts, communion of the faithful would take place just as we see it today, within the Mass itself. Pope St. Pius X directed that the distribution of communion to the faithful should become the norm duringthe Mass throughout the year. Thus was ‘born’ the practice of the 2ndConfiteor within the Mass since the communion rite of the faithful was inserted into the Mass after the priest’s communion.
The 2ndConfiteor was ‘revised away’ (in other words, removed) within the Mass in what we have come to know as the ‘1962 Missal,’ but kept in the communion rite of the faithful outside of Mass. Much can be said in regard to this revision, but that is another discussion. Suffice it say that there is an allowance for the 2ndConfiteor to continue to be used. Instead of getting side-tracked, let us keep our focus on the Mass itself. The Holy Mass is complete as the unbloody re-presentation of Our Lord’s Sacrifice on Calvary with the communion of the offering priest who stands in for Christ the High Priest (in persona Christi). The once-for-all Sacrifice of Calvary is re-presented to the Father with the completion of the priest’s communion (think of a priest’s private low Mass to better grasp this concept—he alone is present at this private Mass).
The Sacrifice of the Lamb Once Slain is ‘made present’ via the double consecration (the bread into Christ’s Body, the wine into His Blood) to all those in attendance at the Mass. Nearly 2,000 years ago, the Blood of Christ poured forth from His Sacred Wounds to make possible the Redemption of all of humanity.
And, at each Mass, we mystically stand at the foot of the Cross to be washed in the Blood of the Lamb. What is the disposition of heart that is necessary for a person to be redeemed by this Blood, if not that of contrition? We must be sorry for our sins to obtain mercy and forgiveness. God does not force us to love Him, nor does He force us to be redeemed.
With this brief exposition of the consecration at Mass, let us return to the communion of the faithful, who are now spiritually present at the foot of Calvary. Does the 2ndConfiteor not now make perfect sense? The Deacon and Subdeacon (if in a Solemn Mass) or the servers in a Sung or Low Mass, now, prostrate in spirit beneath Our Lord’s Cross, recite the Confiteor. The faithful present join with them in the prayer of the heart and bend all their attention to these words of contrition.
The priest then says the Indulgentiam prayer and gives the minor absolution to all present as he says the Misereatur. This minor absolution absolves venial sins in those receiving it and prepares the souls of those individuals in the state of grace who plan to approach the Most Holy Sacrament for the opportunity of an even greater increase in sanctifying grace. The faithful approach the banquet table of the Lord. Truly, at this moment, we have a foretaste of Heaven as we approach the communion rail, with souls washed with absolution after their declaration of contrition. And now, as we look up at the Host held before us, we can contemplate the beatitude: “Blessed are the pure of heart for they shall see the Face of God” (Mt 5:8).
One of the local deacons, Deacon Mike Manno, who frequently attends/serves our TLM community wrote this last month, and we thought it was interesting and wanted to share with our followers.
Those of you who have followed this column know that about seven months ago I had a stroke. Fortunately, through the mercy of God, I quickly recovered with little or no problems. However, it has affected my sight; I can no longer read well, struggling to make out each word like a first grader following his fingers across the page, and my peripheral vision has been compromised to the point that I still cannot drive.
Thus when I am at the altar assisting at Mass, I can no longer proclaim the Gospel, nor can I read the Prayers of the Faithful. The priest will read the Gospel for me and the lector will read the prayers. I still cannot preach since I write out all my homilies and, not being a gifted speaker, would simply read them.
So one of my drawbacks from the stroke was that I was no longer able to assist at a cross-town Latin Mass that I would attend every Sunday evening. I had been doing so for several years at the invitation of that parish’s pastor, an old friend, and his associate with whom I had gotten to know very well. Not being a Latin scholar, I could do little more than sit in choir, read the Epistle and Gospel in English, preach occasionally, and help with the distribution of Communion — the Latin Mass protocols only allow for an ordained minister, deacon or priest, to do so. Unfortunately, the partial loss of my vision was enough to keep me from driving to the Latin Mass and I was unable to participate.
With the pastor and assistant there were only about three other priests in our geographic area who could say the Latin Mass, so when the pastor retired due to health issues, and the associate was sent for additional schooling out of state, it sounded trouble for the Latin Mass.
However, our bishop, William Joensen, asked my pastor if he and our parish could continue the Latin Mass, and he agreed. Last night was our first Latin Mass and I was there, in choir, for the first time since October 24, and I couldn’t have been happier! It brought a newness and a fresh perspective and appreciation for the Latin Mass that was renewed yesterday. My first observation is one I have really taken to heart, because it is now something I use. When we distribute Communion at the Novus Ordo Mass we say to them, “The Body of Christ,” as most receive standing and in the hand. That always seemed to me to show a lack of reverence, almost as if I was handing out cookies to children as an after lunch treat.
I was always more impressed by the Latin formula. As communicants are kneeling at an altar rail, they receive on the tongue as they say, “Corpus Domini nostri Iesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen.” Translated, “May the body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve your soul unto life everlasting. Amen.”
In my mind, that is more reverent and expresses an important theological truth. Thus I use the English translation when taking Communion to the homebound and hospitalized, then I say “the Body of Christ.”
But there is something that I apparently am not the only one to notice. It is the growing number of young people who attend.
I noticed that when I first started assisting at the Latin Mass. I saw the volume of young families with small children who were present, and many of them were the parents of the many youngsters who were taking part as servers and acolytes, and they showed up last night.
Just to give you an example, we had two deacons — one on the cusp of priestly Ordination, and a seminarian sitting in choir, two MCs, two altar servers and six acolytes, most under nine. And the reaction of our regular parishioners was amazement.
Several mentioned to me how they were surprised to see so many young girls dressed as if it were First Communion, and the number of men who wore ties, not to mention the veils on so many of the women and girls. They commented on the beauty of the Traditional Latin chants and hymns as well as the use of incense during certain parts of the Mass.
It all underscored what I saw from a friend of mine, an ex-con who started RCIA with me a few years ago. I had taken him to my parish church and later to the Latin Mass. Now here was a man of no faith background who was actively looking forward to his Baptism and reception into the Church. When I asked him why he was making such a transition, he said it was very simple: In the church, especially at the Latin Mass, he could feel the presence of God and that is where he wanted to be. Unfortunately for my friend, one stupid mistake caused him to be arrested and sent back to prison on a probation violation. What is worse is the correctional system was largely closed by COVID and he was confined for several years.
I continued to keep in touch with him, answering his questions about Catholicism, and sending him copies of lessons from our RCIA syllabus. I found out later he began to share those lessons with fellow inmates. After several indicated that they were Catholic, they formed a group of Catholic inmates who would meet regularly to discuss religion.
I was a bit surprised to note that his prison counselor, when writing about him to the state parole board, noted that he was the leader of the Catholic inmates group. His parole was granted and by the time this is published he should be released and his first priority is to attend the Latin Mass at his “home” parish and to finally become a baptized Catholic, a ceremony I intend to perform myself.
So why was an agnostic so attracted to the Latin Mass that his deepest desire is to become Catholic? I think it is for the same reason men showed up with ties, little girls in dresses, and the little boys are clamoring to serve as acolytes, and young families making the Latin parish its parish of choice. It is that for 2,000 years the Church has brought people to God by using all their senses. Everything that is done is clearly done for the glory of the Almighty, from the architecture to the music, stained glass, Gregorian chant, and incense. It is not that a lot of folks understand Latin, it is that the whole package combines to bring, as my friend noted, the presence of God to any with an open heart.
I know there are those who pooh-pooh the “old” Mass, and many consider it divisive. It is not. It is a unifying point that has been bringing the presence of God to the people for two centuries. I’m very proud of the part my parish is now playing in carrying out that mission, and proud of my very small part in it.
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