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(Exercises with Elizabeth of the Trinity)

... lived in her proximity the longest ... experienced her teaching ... truly came to know the hidden secrets of her soul...

(anonymous prayer)

On one side, we have Teresa before us, an extraordinary social, religious, and literary figure of the 16th century, and on the other side, Edith Stein, another remarkable woman of the 20th century...

Union with God, which John’s sketch of the Mount of Perfection symbolically expresses, is both the goal and the path of spiritual life...

P. Gorazd Cetkovský, O.Carm.

I have repeatedly heard a certain apophthegm recounted, and each time it has profoundly affected me. In order to write about it now, I sought it out in its precise wording:

One elder was asked how a zealous monk should not be disturbed when he sees some brothers returning to the world. He said: “He must observe the dogs that chase the hare. Among them, the one that sees the hare strives hard to chase it, but the others only see that pursuing dog and run after it for a moment, but eventually return. Then only the dog that first saw the hare continues to pursue it. And it pursues the hare until it catches it; nothing, not even bushes and thorns, will deter it from its intent, but it runs even through thorns and often gets scratched. So too, a person who seeks Christ the Lord relentlessly pursues the cross and overcomes all the obstacles that meet him until he catches up with the crucified.”

Chapter VII, in which this apophthegm is included,¹ is titled: “Various stories that encourage us to perseverance and courage.” However, for me this apophthegm always had the opposite effect! It plunged me into despondency. I wondered: Am I not beginning to slacken in my run? Am I truly running because I have “seen”? Is my conversion and my experience with Christ sufficient? Is it enough for me to remain truly faithful to Him? If it is not sufficient, according to this elder’s saying, it has fateful consequences. Sooner or later (it is just a matter of time), I too will abandon the way to Christ because I have not truly seen Him, and because I started running only because the others around me were running after Him. There is no help for me...

Again and again, this story troubled me. Then it occurred to me that I could understand it differently: even the dog that started running only because the others were running may at some moment—during the hunt, that is, later on!—catch sight of the hare that everyone is chasing. It is never too late; nothing is ever lost!

What lesson does this yield? There is no reason for despair. Even if I have doubts about the intensity of my experience with Christ and about the beginning of my conversion, it is important to stick with the others and to run eagerly with them. They will help me keep the right direction and persevere in the run for some time. In fact, it is good to be as far forward as possible in their group, so that I can see ahead of us. This means: simply to honestly do what belongs to the way of following Jesus, even when I am troubled by thoughts that it may not have the proper spark or energy in my case. This way, I create the best chance of actually seeing the one we are running after! Even if only after I have been running for some time. Even I—no matter that it is belated?—will catch sight of Him, and from then on my running after Him will change. I will become the one who has seen, and therefore—as that elder said—I will not slacken anymore.

Dr. Edeltraud Klueting

History of the Order before its Definitive Papal Approval: The Birth of Tension¹

The oldest document attesting to the existence of a group of hermits of the Latin rite on Mount Carmel is the "Rule of Life," written between 1206 and 1214 by the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Albert of Vercelli. It states that he did this at their request. His text is very brief, describing a simple and austere hermetic life in following Jesus Christ and also contains basic provisions about the housing of the brothers.

Each brother is to live in his own, separate cell, which is to be assigned to him by the prior. In the cell or nearby, he is to spend time in meditation and prayer. The prior's cell is to be close to the entrance of the whole precinct of cells so that he would meet everyone who comes to this place first. An oratory, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, is to be built in the middle of the cells, if local circumstances allow. In these brief "architectural" instructions, the classic, archaic type of Palestinian monastic settlement, known as laura, is reflected as a model. James of Vitry attests in his work Historia Orientalis that the hermits lived on Mount Carmel "in cells, resembling humble bee hives, and prepared like the bees of the Lord the honey of spiritual sweetness."

The full papal approval of the "Rule for Life" was only obtained by the Carmelites when some of these hermits had already moved to Europe and settled here. And it was only thanks to this approval that the group of Latin hermits became an order that adopted the structures belonging to religious life and newly defined itself as a so-called mendicant order.

The Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 prohibited the drafting of new religious rules, thus fostering distrust towards the Carmelite order (i.e., that "Rule for Life"), even though it did not deal directly with it. The Second Council of Lyon in 1274 only provisionally approved it. It was not until 1298 that the still uncertain existence of the Carmelite order was secured by papal approval. The tension between the tradition of the hermitic beginnings of the community and the later development into a mendicant order, living in many cities of Europe, or in other words: the tension between opposing poles of individual and community, still defines the spirituality and identity of the Carmelite order today.

Adjustment of the Rule in 1247 – Tension Intensifies

The change to the "Rule for Life," enacted by Innocent IV in 1247, contains crucial novelties. It takes into account the changed living conditions in Europe compared to the Holy Land. The original rules of the order, which determined the layout of spaces belonging to the communal life of the Carmelites, were taken literally, but it is evident that the ideas about the form and function of the brothers' cells had changed. A common refectory has now been integrated into the complex of individual cells, which were previously located around the oratory. This is a decisive step towards strengthening the communal life of the brothers. Such a practice was not present among hermits. While previously each brother prepared and ate his food alone, this has now been removed by the provision: "But what is presented to you, eat together in the common refectory and listen to some reading from the Holy Scripture, where it can be easily preserved" (Rule, cap. 7).

Soon voices of dissent arose among the brothers. The first reform movements within the order emerged, striving to maintain the original hermetic ideal. The work Ignis Arrow (Ignea sagitta), which order tradition attributes to the general prior Nicholas, called Gallus (the Frenchman), reminds the brothers of their hermitic origin and emphasizes that the value of the cell lies in that it allows the brother solitude and silence. "But you, who live in cities, who have exchanged individual cells for a communal house, what spiritual activity do you perform, what is your holy occupation?" It is clearly emphasized here: the cell is not a space that should be sought only for sleep while the brothers wasted their time on the streets and squares of the city all day. The cell was established for nothing other than for continuous prayer.

A particularly important aspect of the complete transformation into a mendicant order is that the new adjustment of the Rule allowed the brothers to choose places completely at will when settling in new locations. They are no longer bound to settle only "in solitude" (as had been the case in the Rule thus far), but may have their residences "wherever they are given." This represents a decisive step towards being able to acquire ownership of building sites in cities, and thus truly becoming a mendicant order. Since the Carmelites in these places were not self-sufficient (in terms of securing food), their residences did not require economic buildings, so a relatively small area was sufficient for their monasteries. In an urban environment, they could accept any location provided to them and utilize it skillfully.

Announcing a Retreat from the Bustle of Cities

The great reformer of the order in the 15th century, General Prior Bl. John Soreth,² described the Carmelite vocation as a retreat from cities and a search for solitude. However, this raises fundamental questions: how did the Carmelites process this turn against their previous way of life and their past history? How did they manage to find a new identity? To answer these questions, I would like to use not written sources, but preserved artworks – wall paintings and frescoes. With their help, this development can be beautifully traced.

Wall Paintings in the Monastery Areas

The reform constitution of the order by Bl. John Soreth from 1466, as well as the constitution of the Touraine Reform from 1656, placed great emphasis on simplicity in terms of the furnishing of monastery buildings. However, in practice, some of these provisions were ignored. On the contrary, it was characteristic of the Carmelite order at that time to have increasingly costly constructions of cloisters, chapter houses, and refectories in various monasteries. These spaces were significantly used for public purposes both in the High and Late Middle Ages and in the early modern period.

For instance, the city council met in the refectory of the Carmelite monastery in Frankfurt am Main, but also the court of the imperial chamber and the administrative authorities of the imperial districts. Furthermore, papal legates and other distinguished guests were accommodated at the monastery when they passed through the city and wanted to stay there for a longer time. In Cologne, the election of the rector of the university, held every quarter, alternated among four convents of mendicant orders, and professors from the mendicant orders lectured their students in their own monasteries. The accessibility of these monastery spaces to the public provided the opportunity to introduce them to the history of the order. In other words: the identity of the order was vividly expressed here.

During the time of Bl. John Soreth, in the 15th and then in the 16th century, the Carmelites thus began not only to write the history of their order but also to depict it. Artistic depictions of the order's history – wall paintings, oil paintings, and stained-glass windows in Carmelite monasteries originated – when focusing on the Lower German province – from the late 15th and early 16th centuries.

I examined only the monasteries of this province because limited time did not permit more. Around 1500, it included 34 male and 5 female monasteries. The medieval monastery buildings or their remnants remained in Hirschhorn, Frankfurt, and Mainz. At these places, wall paintings have also been preserved. Not a single stone remains of the Cologne Carmelite monastery "am Weidmarkt," but there exists a precise description of the wall paintings that were in it in the province chronicle. These four examples provide insights into how the Carmelites depicted the history of their order at that time. And this insight is extraordinarily striking.

While, for example, the Dominicans in Frankfurt am Main then settled for a simple representation of the history of their order in the form of a tree,³ which represents an analogy to the root of Jesse (cf. Is 11:1), the Carmelites created in large-format wall paintings a striking illusion of the origin of their order from Mount Carmel and that they are the successors of the Old Testament prophets Elijah and Elisha and of the "prophetic students" (mentioned in 1 Kings 17 – 2 Kings 13).

The chronological sequence of the creation of these "histories of the order in images" with significant events in the development of the order in the second half of the 15th century even more clearly shows the ideological connections that were in effect here. The reform of John Soreth, who became general prior in 1451 and began his reform activities in the same year, was threatened after his death in 1471 under the influence of a generation of his successors and seemed to falter. Therefore, his biographer, John Oudewater, known as John Palaeonydorus (whom Soreth personally dressed in Carmelite habit in 1455 when he reformed the monastery in Mechelen), maintained among the brothers the impulses of the reform of John Soreth and the inspiration of the hermitic ideal, identified with the prophet Elijah, through his works that narrated the history of the order. His most significant work, the treatise "Liber trimerestus de principio et processu Ordinis Carmelitici" was published in 1497 in Mainz.

In invoking Elijah as the founder of their community, the Carmelites found a significant supporter, not least in Pope Sixtus IV. In the bull Dum attenta from 1476 (known as “mare magnum carmelitarum,” that is “the great sea” of goodwill shown to the Carmelites), he declared that the Carmelites are the rightful heirs and successors of the prophets Elijah and Elisha and other fathers who lived at the spring of Elijah.

My Thesis on the Purpose of Depicting the History of the Order:

The iconographic programs of the mentioned wall paintings serve multiple purposes. First, they are a reminder to the religious community itself of the reform propagated by John Soreth and its support. Within the order, these iconographic programs reflect this rejuvenating effort by turning attention back to the archetype of a pious hermitic life of prophets on Mount Carmel. Thus, they continue to promote the renewal of the life of the order. It should be noted that reform cannot be considered a one-time act, but rather that it is written about (and read) repeatedly, and that the brothers in the monastery often have depictions of that original source, which inspires the reform, before their eyes, reminding them of its constant relevance.

Second, these representations are also intended for the eyes of people from the outside and develop a concept of "aesthetics" characteristic of the Carmelite order, through which the order presents itself to others.

What the Paintings Were to Convey to the Carmelites Themselves

Regarding the first part of my thesis, that the depicted themes relate to the reform promoted by John Soreth, we find several pieces of evidence in the paintings in the monastery in Hirschhorn on the Neckar.

Hirschhorn
The wall paintings in the chapter house of the Monastery of Our Lady in Hirschhorn were created around 1509 and belong to the circle of the artist named Jerg Ratgeb. The paintings cover the wall where the windows are located and the opposite longer wall of the room.

The wall with the windows is adorned with standing figures of saints in life-size. The figures are depicted both on the surface of the wall itself and on the sides of each window in its embrasure. The center of the entire group of figures is emphasized by the depiction of the Virgin Mary, who hands the scapular to Saint Simon Stock.

See Table (click to enlarge):

On the opposite wall, a biblical narrative about Elijah is depicted in ten fields according to 1 Kings 17–19, beginning with Elijah’s prophecy before King Ahab (1 Kings 17:1) and the miraculous feeding of Elijah through the ravens (17:2–4). The images have been preserved with damage; the last four have not survived at all. The last preserved scene depicts the anointing of Elisha as prophet. The individual scenes are accompanied by commentary.

The narrative about Elijah has multiple significances here:
It shows that the tradition of life on Mount Carmel goes back to the prophets of the Old Testament. It deliberately connects the present of the viewer of the paintings with the tradition of the hermitic life on Mount Carmel, where the order was founded and which is sanctified by the events from the lives of the prophets.

The scenes present to the Carmelites in the prophet Elijah an example of great faith. The divine choosing of Elijah is also emphasized, and Elijah is venerated as the founder of the order. The saints depicted on the wall with the windows serve as a historical link between Elijah and the contemporary history of the order. They clearly show how the tradition of the prophets and hermits continues within the order. They are a bridge that spans the distance between the "first foundation" of the order through the prophet Elijah and the new beginning in the West thanks to the French King, Saint Louis IX. This clearly establishes the central idea: the reminder of the order's beginning and the necessity of continually starting anew (constantly renewing the life of the order).

However, the central "spiritual anchor" of the decoration of the chapter house is the depiction of the Virgin Mary. The handover of the scapular to Saint Simon Stock is a special expression of Mary's favor and indicates the special election of the Carmelite order. The handover of the scapular means the certainty of salvation. The chapter house also served for the so-called chapters of faults, where brothers confessed the sins they committed, were assigned penance, and accepted it. Here, before the presence of the Virgin Mary, the sinful brother was again accepted into the community, which stands under her special protection.

Moreover, the choice and order of the depiction of the order's saints are not accidental. They correspond to the then Carmelite liturgy and also to the martyrologies that were read in the monasteries at that time. For comparison, I had access to a martyrology from the monastery of the Carmelite nuns in Namur, founded by Bl. John Soreth. It dates back to the last decade of the 15th century. In it, the following saints are represented in the legends: Elijah, Elisha, Jonah, Albert of Trapani, Andrew Corsini, Angelus of Sicily, and Peter Thomas. Thus, the depictions in the chapter house in Hirschhorn are missing Denis, Cyril, and the French King Louis.

We would exceed the scope of this essay if I were to address the comparison with the liturgical sources. It has been thoroughly examined by Paschalis Kallenberg.⁴ I would just like to point out that the order's own saints were celebrated in the Carmelite breviary with ease as "festum duplex" (colloquially: emphasis was placed on their celebration). I can only briefly point out here to the testimony from the field of literature. The most significant literate of the Carmelite order, Bl. Baptista Mantuanus, a contemporary of John Soreth and also a great renewer of the order himself, extolled in his hymns the advantages of stricter observance and a return to the initial hermitic ideal of Carmel. I have already mentioned John Palaeonydorus. His "chronicle" represents that which is narrated in it, the foundation of the iconographic program of the wall paintings we are observing. In this way, the history of the order and the figures of the order's saints were present at all levels of the life of the observant (i.e., reformed) monastery: they were recalled during prayer, during readings from the legends, and were depicted in frequented spaces of the monastery.

What the Paintings Were to Convey to People from Outside

Regarding the second part of my thesis, that through the paintings the order presented itself and acted upon its guests, it is noteworthy that the decoration of the cloister, chapter house, and refectory gradually received more and more attention. As I already mentioned, these spaces were also accessible to people from outside, non-members of the monastery, and served – we can say – publicly as social spaces.

Cologne
The Cologne Carmelite monastery (founded in 1255 as the first in Germany) could boast a representative depiction of the history of the order, consisting of 20 paintings, each accompanied by a couplet (distich) as an explanatory commentary. The cycle was created around 1500 and has not survived to the present day. However, we know it from the description in the provincial chronicle. It was viewable in the so-called camera hospitum (guest room). Thus, people from outside could not only access it simply during their stay at the monastery, but it was probably directly created for the purpose of depicting the history of the order to these people. Although it has not survived, 17th-century chroniclers well knew it and preserved the entire content of the inscriptions to the scenes. The cycle was commissioned by Provincial Dietrich von Gouda (who died in 1539) with the task of presenting the history of the order from the time of the prophet Elijah to the founding of the Cologne monastery.

The texts of the distichs have survived in full, and it is evident from them that the paintings were meant to bring to mind the origin of the Carmelites and to demonstrate the legitimacy and continuity of the order. The artistic representations and accompanying texts mutually explain each other, thus forming illustrated histories of the order. The founding of the Cologne monastery is referred to in the 15th and 16th distich, the 17th distich speaks of the rescue of the Carmelites by Louis IX. The following distich narrates how the Carmelites began to use a white cloak instead of a striped one. The entire cycle concludes with a plea to the Mother of God, the patroness of the order, for blessings.

Frankfurt am Main
In a completely different way, the history of the order was presented by the painter Jerg Ratgeb in 1517 in the Frankfurt monastery. This monastery joined John Soreth's reform in 1469 and already in 1492 had the history of the order and the legendary account of St. Anne depicted on the retable of one altar. Regarding this work, as well as the paintings in the cloister of the monastery there, I will not go into more detail for brevity. The cloister depicts the history of salvation from the creation of the world to the life and suffering of the Lord Jesus and to the Last Judgement.

I will focus on the large painting in the refectory. It is a monumental work measuring 28.5 m in width and 4 m in height. It was completed in 1517. It covers the entire southern wall of the refectory and depicts a giant landscape with hermits. Within it, four scenes from the history of the order are placed, and this without claiming chronological order. Everything takes place in a single present; everything is "today" for the viewer of the pictures:
The life of the prophet Elijah.
The life of the prophet Elisha.
The persecution of the Carmelites in the Holy Land.
The flight of the Carmelites to Europe with the help of the French King, St. Louis IX.

The lives of both prophets are depicted according to the narratives in the Books of Kings. The persecution and martyrdom of the Carmelites in the Holy Land is illustrated by a dramatic representation and the inscription on the carpet painted above the scene. According to the text, this pertains to the period from the year 537 AD to the year 1290. The painter combines events that are very remote in time and place into a single image. Everything is represented as one great martyrdom. The place where the narrated events take place is Mount Carmel, surrounded by the sea. Jerg Ratgeb depicts the attack on the hermits who lived on the holy sites marked "fons Heliae" (Elijah's spring) and "spelunca Heliae" (Elijah's cave). Various forms of martyrdom are presented realistically and in detail. Monasteries are set ablaze, liturgical objects are destroyed, monks throw themselves from the windows of burning buildings, some are beaten with clubs, beheaded, pierced, drowned, shot with arrows, dragged by horses, burned together with their holy books, etc. Three of them are crucified on the scaffold behind the monastery, which clearly suggests that it is an allusion to the three crosses on Calvary and that the reason for the martyrdom of all is following Christ.

The figures are unnamed; there are no inscriptions that would allow us to identify them. This anonymized form of representation is intended to lead us to see the entire order as martyr. Only one single person is identified by name, namely St. Gerard, who is hurled headlong from a tall mountain into an abyss. John Palaeonydorus writes about him in chapter 10 of the second part of his order's chronicle. His name was carried by one monastery in the Lower German province: Geraardsbergen. The inscription on the carpet, with minor variation, adopts the text of Palaeonydorus and ends with the words: "They destroyed the monasteries to their foundations, and what the prophet Isaiah prophesied was fulfilled: 'Joy and gladness will be taken from Carmel,'"⁵ and Jeremiah 48: "Joy and gladness have ceased in the orchard."⁶

The climax and conclusion of the monumental painting is the depiction of the rescue of the Carmelites through the French King, Saint Louis. In close connection to the text of Palaeonydorus (book 3, chapter 4, p. 164), an inscription above the scene states that around the year 1248, during a crusade, the French king landed with his ships at the foot of Mount Carmel when the Virgin Mary saved him from danger at sea. He therefore took some Carmelites with him to France and settled them in Paris. Palaeonydorus writes that there were eight of them.

The painter Ratgeb deviates from this description of events and instead presents some sort of exodus of the whole order, embarking in an orderly procession with the accompanying banners, liturgical books, and gifts. The inscription adheres to the text of Palaeonydorus and reads: "Around the year 1248, Saint Louis, the noble king of France, with various dukes of other lands, after performing many deeds of war against the Saracens in the Promised Land, humbly visited the Holy Sepulcher and other holy places. After being saved from danger at sea at the foot of Mount Carmel through the gracious intercession of the Mother of God, he himself ascended to this mountain. Moved by the reasonable arguments of the brothers of Saint Mary who lived there humbly and the good repute and piety of the excellent brothers of the order of Saint Mary, he took some of the brothers with the permission of the prior to France and built them in his city of Paris a monastery. These willingly accepted others and gradually founded in various regions of France and Germany monasteries of our order."

Mainz
In the Mainz monastery, only a single scene has survived to our day: the enthronement of Elijah on a chariot with two fiery horses (according to 2 Kings 2:11–14). Probably in this monastery, the entire cycle of images with Elijah's story was also depicted, but only this single painting has survived.

The Paintings Are Part of the Overall Effort for the Renewal of the Order to Fidelity to Its Beginning

In conclusion, I would like to point out the complexity of the relationship between real spaces and the space in the mind. It is too limiting if the depiction of history is considered by the Carmelites merely as an external expression of their need for representation, self-affirmation, or the construction of their identity. This is an interpretation that remains solely on the level of real architecture and art.

Artistic programs, containing galleries of order saints and key scenes from the history of the order, have great importance as a prominent symbol by presenting everything as present. By disregarding the distinctiveness of the times when the events occurred and projecting the past into the present, they create a bridge between contradiction and harmony regarding time (diachrony and synchrony). The course of history is thus represented as the fulfillment of God’s plan with people. Typology transitions into eschatology, and by peering through past events, one looks into the future. The scenes depicted on the walls presented minds with patterns of strong, unconditional faith and valuable divine election: the martyrs on Mount Carmel who died for their faith, the saints and blessed Elijah, Elisha, Jonah, Albert, Andrew Corsini, Peter Thomas, and others, with whom the contemporary Carmelite brothers met daily during the reading of the order's legends and the celebration of the liturgy, which belongs to their order. This common functioning of spoken, sung, and written word and images that present the given events and figures can be regarded as an overall concept whereby the reformers of the order, through the memory of the archetype of hermitic, pious life on Mount Carmel, consolidated the inner compactness of the order. The remembrance of God’s salvific deeds of the past was meant to show contemporaries the way into the future.

Carmelite identity culminates in the representation of Mount Carmel. In those spaces of the monastery that were not adorned with wall paintings, we usually find at least a depiction of the order's symbol, which symbolically recalls Mount Carmel. The heraldic description sees in this symbol only an arched peak, but the Carmelites perceive it as a symbol representing Mount Carmel, the ideological center of the Carmelite order, to which one must remain faithful and which has always been recalled. The depiction of the order's symbol preserved and continues to preserve, even today, the reminder that the order originated from hermits in the Holy Land, thus continually reminding the mendicants in the great cities of the world of the beginning from which they emerged.

I have thought a lot about whether this interesting topic has any parallel in our everyday lives. We too surround ourselves with images or pictures: we arrange them on the walls of our apartments, on our desks, set them as backgrounds on our computer monitors. The photo that used to be carried in a wallet has today been replaced by the wallpaper on the phone screen.

Unfortunately, the subject matter still has a lot of room for kitsch: idyllic landscapes, canyons, dogs wearing glasses, etc. Some memorialize motorcycles, railroads, lighthouses, flowers, children in this way. Only a portion of us utilize this to continuously remind ourselves of our nearest and dearest: our children, our families, the places where we spent beautiful moments on vacation, etc.

But who among us sets before our eyes some of our ideals in this way? (Surely you will agree with me that photos of athletes and actors, which young people favor, are not the category I have in mind.) Perhaps today’s overall complicated relationship to ideals and authorities is reflected here.

Let us thus rephrase the question. Who of us utilizes these means to intentionally direct our thoughts (about which we otherwise lament their dispersion)? When I ask you this, I am not advocating anything. I am merely trying to encourage us to reflect – from as broad a perspective as possible – and bring us to the fundamental question: would it be worth it to make better use of these things or not?

We often do not think about what the pictures that surround us should speak of. We simply want to have them in our sight. Perhaps we have not formulated the meaning of it. Well, let us try to express it now!

If we allow ourselves to be led by the thoughts of Dr. Klueting: what do we tell ourselves by suitably surrounding ourselves with images that then consistently communicate to us where our roots are? I will suggest my observations: it is about liberation from the captivity of the present. About remembering God’s deeds and gifts. The remembrance of the past can immediately become a guide on how one might grasp the present differently.

And what do we want to convey to others with these images? (The monitor is generally my private space, but I choose the images in the living room with regard to guests. They also have a representative purpose.)
We want to share our taste and what brings us joy. What sustains us. And here we could transition to considerations of the cross in our homes and during our travels, etc.
The theme would open up to further breadth...

Fr. Gorazd, O.Carm.

This is a graphic poem by St. John of the Cross, which presents a spiritual work on a single piece of paper sized to fit into a breviary...

Chapter from the book Prayer of the Poor

P. Gorazd Cetkovský, O.Carm.

The Fourth Way: to follow the course of the Mass with the help of a book

After the two Mass devotions (according to St. Alphonsus and according to St. Leonardo da Porto Maurizio), with which we have already become acquainted, the Missionary Book in the 1925 edition contains a third section titled: III. Prayers at the Holy Mass according to the Roman Missal. And to this, an explanation:

“It is very beneficial for the faithful to know and pray the prayers used by the Holy Church at the Holy Mass along with the priest. Therefore, we include here the prayers as the priest prays at the Holy Mass on the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity, beside the Czech translation. The faithful can use these at any Mass, especially at sung Masses. Most of these prayers are always the same, only certain parts change according to the feast.”

In this we have before us the fruits of the so-called liturgical movement. Indeed, when the study of the history of the ancient Church and the writings of the Church Fathers deepened in the 19th century, knowledge of how Christians experienced the liturgy in the first Christian centuries was revived. Pope Pius X (1903–1914), who sought to renew the life of the Church and deepen piety, encouraged the faithful: “Do not pray during the Holy Mass, but celebrate the Holy Mass!” This pope declared at the beginning of his pontificate that liturgy is an irreplaceable source of true piety. After all, it was piety itself that created it from the passing generations!

The liturgical movement began around 1909 in Belgium and quickly spread to other countries. It sought to make the liturgical rites and the very liturgical texts, especially in the Mass, close once again to all the faithful. After centuries of “thick glass” between the celebrant and the others in the church, a way was sought to achieve that everyone could perceive the original content of the rites and be able to identify with it during liturgical prayer, all while giving proper respect to the liturgical heritage. The readings at the service were to be understandable and truly bring an encounter with God’s word. A deeper understanding of the liturgy would lead to celebrating it with fresh reverence and care. So that all liturgical events would be clear and as simple as possible.

“It is not a coincidence that at the beginning of the liturgical movement in the German-speaking countries stood the little book of Romano Guardini 'On Sacred Signs,' which discusses the simplest things (in the liturgy) and how to handle them properly: about standing and walking, about the sign of the cross and about holy water and similar unobtrusive realities. On these simplest elements, genuine piety can truly renew itself most easily.”¹ And this slim book remains popular to this day.²

The transition from previous Mass devotions to following the Mass with the help of a missal was, however, gradual. This can be well illustrated by the words of K. Kubeš:

“The liturgical movement of recent years emphasizes that the faithful (as co-offerers) should join in the prayers of the Church and not offer other prayers during the Holy Mass. We agree and therefore welcome the publication of the Czech missal. However, it is understandable that those who go to the table of the Lord during the Holy Mass devote part or all their time to preparation for Holy Communion. In addition, it is advisable at times to follow the most holy sacrifice in a meditative way, like a Mass devotion...”³

(and he further offers such, of which we have first mentioned: a reminder of the history of salvation). So the new way of participating in the Mass (the use of a missal) is welcomed here, and at the same time, the existing practice – the Mass devotion – is still honored.

Interestingly, before, the highest ecclesiastical authority was very reserved about granting consent to the translation of the so-called Roman Canon (the prayers of the priest from the offering to reception). Although other parts of the Mass had been translated into national languages since the late Middle Ages, this most esteemed part of the Mass was consistently omitted. When the translation of the Roman Canon into French first appeared in 1660, the pope strictly prohibited its dissemination. A similar ban was issued even in the mid-19th century. Therefore, instead of the canon, the missals at that time contained some prayer expressing its content, which the faithful could pray during the offering service. Translating the canon was only allowed from 1897, with the condition that translations were always approved by ecclesiastical authority.

In Czech, such a missal was compiled in 1891 by P. Prokop Baudyš. However, it became much more widespread only with the “Roman Missal,” first published in 1925, which was translated and accompanied by liturgical notes by the Benedictine of the Prague monastery at Emauzy, P. Marian Schaller. In the preface to the fourth edition, which he wrote at Christmas 1947, he mentions that the third edition was quickly sold out and that “the war prevented the urgently needed new edition from being printed.” So that his missal could serve both simple people and those who knew Latin and wanted to have both the Latin liturgical texts before them, P. Schaller prepared the missal bilingually – side by side, neatly presenting the Latin text and its Czech translation.

František Tomášek also encouraged children to use a missal in his catechism:

“Strive to know the individual parts of the Holy Mass as best as you can and watch them attentively when you are at the Holy Mass. When you grow up, buy a handy Mass book (missal) in the Czech language, so you can pray all the prayers with the priest. The more attentive you are, the more graces you will receive.”⁴

However, the expression “to pray with the priest” still – in my feeling – reveals a concept of parallel prayer, “dual-track,” just temporally coinciding. It was seen as appropriate to experience the Mass: to follow the actions of the priest, to know what is presently going on, concurrently praying in spirit the same as he is. P. Schaller in the mentioned preface uses the expression: “perfect union with the offering priest” for this.

However, the liturgical movement gradually found that the people could not just read the liturgical prayers quietly from their missals. Attempts to break through “thick glass” went even further. In France and Italy, an attempt was made to use a commentator during the Mass, who would briefly present the contents of the prayers and texts recited aloud by the celebrant in Latin from the altar in the national language. In Germany, the priest prayed the liturgical prayers quietly, while someone else would simultaneously pray them aloud in the national language for the others. Both methods received official Roman approval in 1958. But shortly thereafter – on January 25, 1959 – Pope John XXIII announced his intention to convene the Second Vatican Council. This brought with it a great transformation of the liturgy and advocated for the active participation of all in the Holy Mass.

“Therefore, the Church pays special attention to ensure that the faithful are not present at this mystery of faith as onlookers and mute spectators but that they understand it well through rituals and prayers. They are to have an aware, pious, and active participation in the sacred act, so they may learn from God’s word and be strengthened by the banquet of the body of the Lord and give thanks to God. They should bring forth the immaculate offering not only through the hands of the priest but also together with him and thereby learn to sacrifice themselves. Through Christ, they should grow day by day towards a perfect unity with God and among themselves, so that finally God may be everything in all.”
(Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum concilium, Art. 48.)

The fathers of the council therefore also approved a greater use of the national language in the liturgy (Art. 54). The development, however, went even further in the direction they outlined. After the first trial edition in 1967 and incorporation of subsequent remarks, a new Roman Missal was published in 1969, which allowed the celebrant to pray the Preface and the Canon of the Mass aloud in the national language. Moreover, it introduced three additional Eucharistic prayers as alternatives. Therefore, the entire Holy Mass can be easily understandable to all and truly can be a common prayer of all present – both the celebrant and the people.

Are the former Mass devotions instructive for us today?

After the Second Vatican Council, thus, the “thick glass” is gone. As we said, the younger among us may not even know that it ever existed. So why should we consider all this development and those old Mass devotions, which were relevant to the state of affairs at that time?

However, we can say with a clear conscience that – now fifty years after the council – we are never present at Mass “as onlookers and mute spectators”? Unfortunately, even we often find ourselves behind “thick glass,” separated from the words of Scripture, from the homily, and from the events at the altar – by our lack of focus, being filled with other thoughts... And so, I originally wanted to title my article more provocatively: “How to concentrate on the Mass according to St. Leonard.” Because our distraction troubles us a lot and we would like guidance on how to overcome it.

The Mass devotion according to St. Leonard offers us a recipe that is not miraculous, but remarkable in its simplicity: to remind ourselves internally of the basic attitudes of our prayer that we express in the Mass. To return to them. After all, in other – much more spontaneous – activities than the Holy Mass, a wise person keeps an eye on their basic inner disposition with which they enter and want to experience them. A suitable example seems to me a vacation. We look forward to it, we plan it, we prepare for it. However, when it arrives, it often does not go according to our expectations. Something surprises us, plans need to change, etc. And this is reflected from the outside into us. It spoils our mood, incites anger. But a wise person tries to work with it and tells themselves: “I won’t let this ruin my vacation! I wanted to enjoy peace, and I will defend it within myself. And no matter how things unfold externally: I am on vacation, and this is how I will take it all!”

But it is not just a moment of struggle against distraction. Even during Masses abroad and in languages I do not understand, I have found it very helpful to return to the thoughts of the Mass devotion according to St. Leonard.

Or we can use them at any time during the liturgy in moments of silence or when “nothing is asked of me,” i.e., when I do not have to respond, listen, or do anything else. The Missionary Book dryly states: “Everyone will use free moments according to their piety” (p. 62). But when “it doesn’t quite click for me,” when I cannot think of thoughts for an internal conversation with the Lord, I can take the advice of St. Leonard and return to the foundation: I thank, I repent, I praise, I ask...

Some of you might friendly argue against me over these lines long ago: “What is the point of so much thinking?” Your participation in the Holy Mass may be more “emotional.” Even C. S. Lewis, in the chapter The Joy of the Lord, taught us in his book Reflections on the Psalms (which we used a few years ago as a guide during spiritual exercises): The Orientals (and with them the Old Testament psalmists) initially did not distinguish between external cult and internal piety. Both originally represented one indivisible whole for them. Participating in the service in the Jerusalem temple, along with its noise, the smell of roasted sacrifices, etc., meant for them “to belong to the kindness of the Lord” (Ps 27:4 – ecumenical translation). But soon for them, the cult and internal piety separated. And the Lord rebuked them that mere material offerings were not enough for Him. The more for us, the Europeans of today, it is not easy to return to that naive unity... Specifically during the Mass: we simply do not suffice by knowing the appropriate responses to what the priest says, that we know when to stand and when to sit and what else to do. For a good experience of the Holy Mass, it will always be necessary for us to care for our proper “internal attitude” during it. To perceive it and work on it.

It would be good to remember this especially before every Mass. To take a moment to be silent and prepare for it. Someone may manage to force themselves and get used to arriving at church a little earlier and allowing themselves a few minutes right in the pew. Someone else may find some time at home, read the biblical texts for the Mass (especially for Sunday Mass). But if we do not have these options or cannot create them, inventive love will seek out how to snatch such a preparatory moment even under less favorable conditions and use, for example, that not very concentrated time when we’re “trotting” to the church for the Mass. When we strive for such an internal preparation repeatedly, we can train ourselves to some extent.

If we do not want to stagnate, we must educate ourselves

When a great expert in the knowledge of liturgy and its history, the Jesuit Josef Andreas Jungmann, contemplated just before the Second Vatican Council that the council would undoubtedly continue the liturgical movement and influence the form of the liturgy, he pointed out that it is not enough to change the rites, but that educating the faithful regarding the liturgy will always be important. Catechesis on the liturgy. Otherwise, even after the removal of the “thick glass,” we would remain with only outward common gestures, common recitations, common singing.

Let us think for ourselves: everyone should receive some basic catechesis, which is offered to children through religious education, to adults through doctrinal programs in parishes, or through private reading of books on this topic. Otherwise, we simply won't understand the service. And this is fuel for the mentioned distraction. How can something that we do not understand engage us?
But besides that, some refreshed catechesis, deepening and connecting what we already know, would greatly benefit our ability to make the liturgy truly our prayer. Or at least to think about the liturgy continually. Only in this way do we have a chance to fulfill for ourselves the desire of the council that we “understand well the great mystery of the Eucharist through the rituals and prayers.” This would significantly refresh our participation in the service!

The Catechism of the Catholic Church, published in 1997,⁵ you probably can easily take in your hands yourself. What does it say about what we have been contemplating? I did not find a paragraph dedicated directly to our topic – the internal experience of the Holy Mass. Perhaps you will be able to search better. I think that what we have considered is also mentioned or hinted at in this catechism, just in a more complex language. Article 1071, quoting the words of the council (SC 7), which demand the active, aware, and pious participation of the faithful in the liturgy, is titled “Liturgy as a Source of Life.” It is more concerned with what we do after celebrating the liturgy than during it.

When P. Jindřich Charouz recommended some older books to me for working on this article, he wrote to me about them: “There is plenty of inspirational material to be found there, even if not everything is acceptable today. But at that time, people lived from it – and fruitfully.” Yes, not everything from the past suits us. However, the Mass devotions that people prayed earlier are interesting and encourage us toward a proper experience of the Holy Mass today as well. Thanks be to God for that. The cited simple encouragement from Cardinal Tomášek also promises us rightly: “The more attentive you are, the more graces you will receive.”

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