Tenebræ
Listen to Alegrie's MISERERE
Tenebræ
is the name given to the service of Matins and Lauds belonging to the
last three days of Holy Week. This service, as the "Cæremoniale
episcoporum" expressly directs, is to be anticipated and it
should be sung shortly after Compline "about the twenty-first
hour", i.e. about three p.m. on the eve of the day to which it
belongs. "On the three days before Easter", says Benedict
XIV (Institut., 24), "Lauds follow immediately on Matins, which
in this occasion terminate with the close of day, in order to signify
the setting of the Sun of Justice and the darkness of the Jewish
people who knew not our Lord and condemned Him to the gibbet of the
cross." Originally Matins on these days, like Matins at all
other seasons of the year, were sung shortly after midnight, and
consequently if the lights were extinguished the darkness was
complete. That this putting out of lights dates from the fifth
century, so far at least as regards the night Office, is highly
probable. Both in the first Ordo Romanus and in the Ordo of St. Amand
published by Duchesne a great point is made of the gradual extinction
of the lights during the Friday Matins; though it would seem that in
this earliest period the Matins and Lauds of the Thursday were sung
throughout with the church brightly illuminated (ecclesia
omni lumine decoretur).
On Friday the candles and lamps were gradually extinguished during
the three Nocturns, while on Saturday the church was in darkness from
beginning to end, save that a single candle was kept near the lectern
to read by.
All
this suggests, as Kutschker has remarked, that the Office of these
three days was treated as a sort of funeral service, or dirge,
commemorating the death of Jesus Christ. It is natural also that,
since Christ by convention was regarded as having lain three days
and three nights in the tomb, these obsequies should have come in
the end to be celebrated on each of the three separate occasions
with the same demonstrations of mourning. There can be no reasonable
doubt that it was from the extinguishing of lights that the service
came to be known as Tenebræ, though the name itself seems to have
arisen somewhat later. The liturgist de Vert has suggested an
utilitarian explanation of the putting out of the candles one by
one, contending that the gradual approach of the dawn rendered the
same number of lights unnecessary, and that the number was
consequently diminished as the service drew to a close. This view
seems sufficiently refuted by the fact that this method of gradual
extinction is mentioned by the first Ordo Romanus on the Friday
only. On the Saturday we are explicitly told that the lights were
not lit. Moreover, as pointed out under HOLY WEEK, the tone of the
whole Office, which seems hardly to have varied in any respect from
that now heard in our churches, is most noticeably mournful--the
lessons taken from the Lamentations of Jeremias, the omission of the
Gloria Patri, of the Te Deum, and of blessings etc., all suggest a
service cognate to the Vigiliæ Mortuorum, just as the brilliant
illumination of the Easter eve spoke of triumph and of joy, so the
darkness of the preceding night's services seems to have been
designedly chosen to mark the Church's desolation. In any case it is
to be noticed that the Office of these three days has been treated
by liturgical reformers throughout the ages with scrupulous respect.
The lessons from Jeremias in the first Nocturn, from the
Commentaries of St. Augustine upon the Psalms in the second, and
from the Epistles of St. Paul in the third remain now as when we
first hear of them in the eighth century.
The
Benedictine Order, who normally have their own arrangement of psalms
and nocturns, differing from the Roman, on these three days conform
to the ordinary Roman practice. Even the shifting of the hour from
midnight to the previous afternoon, when no real darkness can be
secured, seems to have been prompted by the desire to render these
sublime Offices more accessible to clergy and laity. Already in the
thirteenth century it seems probable that at Rome Tenebræ began at
four or five o'clock on the Wednesday (see Ord. Rom., xiv, 82, and
Ord. Rom., xv, 62). Despite the general uniformity of this service
throughout the Western Church, there was also a certain diversity of
usage in some details, more particularly, in the number of candles
which stood in the Tenebræ hearse, and in some accretions which,
especially in the Sarum Use, marked the termination of the service.
With regard to the candles Durandus speaks of as many as seventy-two
being used in some churches and as few as nine or seven in others.
In England the Sarum Ordinal prescribed twenty-four, and this was
the general number in this country, variously explained as
symbolizing the twenty-four hours of the day, or the twelve Apostles
with the twelve Prophets. A twenty-fifth candle was allowed to
remain lighted and hidden, as is done at the present day, behind the
altar, when all the others had been gradually extinguished. At
present, the rubrics of the "Ceremoniale," etc., prescribe
the use of fifteen candles. The noise made at the end of Tenebræ
undoubtedly had its origin in the signal given by the master of
ceremonies for the return of the ministers to the sacristy. A number
of the earlier Ceremoniales and Ordines are explicit on this point.
But at a later date others lent their aid in making this knocking.
For example Patricius Piccolomini says: "The prayer being ended
the master of ceremonies begins to beat with his hand upon the altar
step or upon some bench, and all to some extent make a noise and
clatter." This was afterwards symbolically interpreted to
represent the convulsion of nature which followed the death of Jesus
Christ.
All
this suggests, as Kutschker has remarked, that the Office of these
three days was treated as a sort of funeral service, or dirge,
commemorating the death of Jesus Christ. It is natural also that,
since Christ by convention was regarded as having lain three days
and three nights in the tomb, these obsequies should have come in
the end to be celebrated on each of the three separate occasions
with the same demonstrations of mourning. There can be no reasonable
doubt that it was from the extinguishing of lights that the service
came to be known as Tenebræ, though the name itself seems to have
arisen somewhat later. The liturgist de Vert has suggested an
utilitarian explanation of the putting out of the candles one by
one, contending that the gradual approach of the dawn rendered the
same number of lights unnecessary, and that the number was
consequently diminished as the service drew to a close. This view
seems sufficiently refuted by the fact that this method of gradual
extinction is mentioned by the first Ordo Romanus on the Friday
only. On the Saturday we are explicitly told that the lights were
not lit. Moreover, as pointed out under HOLY WEEK, the tone of the
whole Office, which seems hardly to have varied in any respect from
that now heard in our churches, is most noticeably mournful--the
lessons taken from the Lamentations of Jeremias, the omission of the
Gloria Patri, of the Te Deum, and of blessings etc., all suggest a
service cognate to the Vigiliæ Mortuorum, just as the brilliant
illumination of the Easter eve spoke of triumph and of joy, so the
darkness of the preceding night's services seems to have been
designedly chosen to mark the Church's desolation. In any case it is
to be noticed that the Office of these three days has been treated
by liturgical reformers throughout the ages with scrupulous respect.
The lessons from Jeremias in the first Nocturn, from the
Commentaries of St. Augustine upon the Psalms in the second, and
from the Epistles of St. Paul in the third remain now as when we
first hear of them in the eighth century.
The
Benedictine Order, who normally have their own arrangement of psalms
and nocturns, differing from the Roman, on these three days conform
to the ordinary Roman practice. Even the shifting of the hour from
midnight to the previous afternoon, when no real darkness can be
secured, seems to have been prompted by the desire to render these
sublime Offices more accessible to clergy and laity. Already in the
thirteenth century it seems probable that at Rome Tenebræ began at
four or five o'clock on the Wednesday (see Ord. Rom., xiv, 82, and
Ord. Rom., xv, 62). Despite the general uniformity of this service
throughout the Western Church, there was also a certain diversity of
usage in some details, more particularly, in the number of candles
which stood in the Tenebræ hearse, and in some accretions which,
especially in the Sarum Use, marked the termination of the service.
With regard to the candles Durandus speaks of as many as seventy-two
being used in some churches and as few as nine or seven in others.
In England the Sarum Ordinal prescribed twenty-four, and this was
the general number in this country, variously explained as
symbolizing the twenty-four hours of the day, or the twelve Apostles
with the twelve Prophets. A twenty-fifth candle was allowed to
remain lighted and hidden, as is done at the present day, behind the
altar, when all the others had been gradually extinguished. At
present, the rubrics of the "Ceremoniale," etc., prescribe
the use of fifteen candles. The noise made at the end of Tenebræ
undoubtedly had its origin in the signal given by the master of
ceremonies for the return of the ministers to the sacristy. A number
of the earlier Ceremoniales and Ordines are explicit on this point.
But at a later date others lent their aid in making this knocking.
For example Patricius Piccolomini says: "The prayer being ended
the master of ceremonies begins to beat with his hand upon the altar
step or upon some bench, and all to some extent make a noise and
clatter." This was afterwards symbolically interpreted to
represent the convulsion of nature which followed the death of Jesus
Christ.
The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ
FROM THE MEDITATIONS OF
ANNE CATHERINE EMMERICH
Anne Catherine Emmerich (1774-1824)Mystic, Stigmatist, Visionary, and Prophet
Ven. Anne Catherine
Emmerich, an Augustinian nun, stigmatic, and ecstatic, born 8
September, 1774, at Flamsche, near Coesfeld, in the Diocese of
Münster, Westphalia, Germany; died at Dulmen, 9 February, 1824.
Her parents, both peasants, were very poor and
pious. At twelve she was bound out to a farmer, and later was a
seamstress for several years. Very delicate all the time, she was
sent to study music, but finding the organist's family very poor she
gave them the little she had saved to enter a convent, and actually
waited on them as a servant for several years. Moreover, she was at
times so pressed for something to eat that her mother brought her
bread at intervals, parts of which went to her master's family. In
her twenty-eighth year (1802) she entered the Augustinian convent at
Agnetenberg, Dulmen. Here she was content to be regarded as the
lowest in the house. Her zeal, however, disturbed the tepid sisters,
who were puzzled and annoyed at her strange powers and her weak
health, and notwithstanding her ecstasies in church, cell, or at
work, treated her with some antipathy. Despite her excessive frailty,
she discharged her duties cheerfully and faithfully. When Jerome
Bonaparte closed the convent in 1812 she was compelled to find refuge
in a poor widow's house. In 1813 she became bedridden. She foresaw
the downfall of Napoleon twelve years in advance, and counseled in a
mysterious way the successor of St. Peter. Even in her childhood the
supernatural was so ordinary to her that in her innocent ignorance
she thought all other children enjoyed the same favours that she did,
i.e. to converse familiarly with the Child Jesus, etc. She displayed
a marvellous knowledge when the sick and poor came to the "bright
little sister" seeking aid; she knew their diseases and
prescribed remedies that did not fail. By nature she was quick and
lively and easily moved to great sympathy by the sight of the
sufferings of others. This feeling passed into her spiritual being
with the result that she prayed and suffered much for the souls of
Purgatory whom she often saw, and for the salvation of sinners whose
miseries were known to her even when far away. Soon after she was
confined to bed (1813) the stigmata came externally, even to the
marks of the thorns. All this she unsuccessfully tried to conceal as
she had concealed the crosses impressed upon her breast.
Then followed what she dreaded on account of its
publicity, an episcopal commission to inquire into her life, and the
reality of these wonderful signs. The examination was very strict, as
the utmost care was necessary to furnish no pretext for ridicule and
insult on the part of the enemies of the Church. The vicar-general,
the famous Overberg, and three physicians conducted the investigation
with scrupulous care and became convinced of the sanctity of the
"pious Beguine", as she was called, and the genuineness of
the stigmata. At the end of 1818 God granted her earnest prayer to be
relieved of the stigmata, and the wounds in her hands and feet
closed, but the others remained, and on Good Friday were all wont to
reopen. In 1819 the government sent a committee of investigation
which discharged its commission most brutally. Sick unto death as she
was, she was forcibly removed to a large room in another house and
kept under the strictest surveillance day and night for three weeks,
away from all her friends except her confessor. She was insulted,
threatened, and even flattered, but in vain. The commission departed
without finding anything suspicious, and remained silent until its
president, taunted about his reticence, declared that there was
fraud, to which the obvious reply was: In what respect? and why delay
in publishing it? About this time Klemens Brentano, the famous poet,
was induced to visit her; to his great amazement she recognized him,
and told him he had been pointed out to her as the man who was to
enable her to fulfil God's command, namely, to write down for the
good of innumerable souls the revelations made to her. He took down
briefly in writing the main points, and, as she spoke the Westphalian
dialect, he immediately rewrote them in ordinary German. He would
read what he wrote to her, and change and efface until she gave her
complete approval. Like so many others, he was won by her evident
purity, her exceeding humility and patience under sufferings
indescribable. With Overberg, Sailer of Ratisbon, Clement Augustus of
Cologne, Stollberg, Louisa Hensel, etc., he reverenced her as a
chosen bride of Christ.
In 1833 appeared the first-fruits of Brentano's
toil, "The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ according
to the Meditations of Anne Catherine Emmerich" (Sulzbach).
Brentano prepared for publication "The Life of The Blessed
Virgin Mary", but this appeared at Munich only in 1852. From the
manuscript of Brentano Father Schmoeger published in three volumes
"The Life of Our Lord" (Ratisbon, 1858-80), and in 1881 a
large illustrated edition of the same. The latter also wrote her life
in two volumes (Freiburg, 867-70, new edition, 1884). Her visions go
into details, often slight, which give them a vividness that strongly
holds the reader's interest as one graphic scene follows another in
rapid succession as if visible to the physical eye. Other mystics are
more concerned with ideas, she with events; others stop to meditate
aloud and to guide the reader's thoughts, she lets the facts speak
for themselves with the simplicity, brevity, and security of a Gospel
narrative. Her treatment of that difficult subject, the twofold
nature of Christ, is admirable. His humanity stands out clear and
distinct, but through it shines always a gleam of the Divine. The
rapid and silent spread of her works through Germany, France, Italy,
and elsewhere speaks well for their merit. Strangely enough they
produced no controversy. Dom Guéranger extolls their merits in the
highest terms (Le Monde, 15 April, 1860).
Sister Emmerich lived during one of the saddest and
least glorious periods of the Church's history, when revolution
triumphed, impiety flourished, and several of the fairest provinces
of its domain were overrun by infidels and cast into such ruinous
condition that the Faith seemed about to be completely extinguished.
Her mission in part seems to have been by her prayers and sufferings
to aid in restoring Church discipline, especially in Westphalia, and
at the same time to strengthen at least the little ones of the flock
in their belief. Besides all this she saved many souls and recalled
to the Christian world that the supernatural is around about it to a
degree sometimes forgotten. A rumour that the body was stolen caused
her grave to be opened six weeks after her death. The body was found
fresh, without any sign of corruption. In 1892 the process of her
beatification was introduced by the Bishop of Münster.
Listen to the Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ by Ven. Anne Catherine Emmerich