Inundatio Spiritus
In the summer of 1962, I visited Strasbourg, France, and spent a good deal of time in the magnificent cathedral. One stained-glass window in particular remained in my memory for decades until I was able to return and see it again in the late 1990′s. It represents Pentecost, with a brilliant red fire flooding down upon the Blessed Virgin and the Apostles. Many people rightly praise the blue of the Cathedral of Chartres. I’ll never forget the red of Strasbourg.
St. Augustine refers in one sermon to the inundatio Spiritus–the flood of the Spirit.)
Here is a site with much about the cathedral, and here is a photo of the window.
While I was uploading this, I found in my image files an earlier representation of Pentecost. Unfortunately, I don’t remember where I got it, but it also is very beautiful.
Many thanks for these images and reminiscences. My personal favorite Pentecost artwork is the ceiling of the ten-sided tower of St. Gereon’s church in Cologne, which is simply drops of fire in red and gold. When the romaneque churches of Cologne were painstakingly rebuilt after being destroyed practically to matchsticks in World War II, several of the restorations integrated modern art most effectively, imho, and this is one. Perhaps it is just my fancy, but I always felt there was a numinous ambiguity about drops of fire representing the Spirit there of all places, given that the firebombing of the city was both a living memory and so massive that it is forever written into the ground.
Rita: Is this the image you are talking about? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:K%C3%B6ln_st_gereon_kuppel_dekagon.jpg
Happily, you did not delete the information from your second image. If you click on it, it reveals that it is “Pentecost, ca. 1170, English School (Hunterian Psalter, Glasgow University Library)”
There are more images from that source here:
http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/exhibns/psalter/psalterindex.html
Attended Pentecost liturgy in the church of St. Martin (of Tours) in St. Remy de Provence. No wonderful images as have been posted; indeed the church done up in 19th century style is crumbling around us. However, the liturgy was excellent: the presider serious but personable, the deacon energetic (apparently a seminarian who has spent time in this parish and is off to finish his studies); the congregation singing and responding under the direction of a skilled chanter; two baptisms and a ceremony called “the profession of faith,” but to all appearances not confirmation (eight girls, one boy [all about 14-15]). Church full. More or less two hours and engaging (and my French ain’t so great). Later in the day, the wonderful organ was employed in a concert of Bach and Messian….. it appeared that the folks came for Bach and left for Messian!
In the Anglican Church, all of ordinary time from Pentecost to Advent was called the season of Pentecost, and I still think of these long months as the time to focus on the gifts of the Spirit.
Was that ever a Catholic tradition?
I once knew, but I’ve forgotten why vestments are green during Pentecost/ordinary time after Pentecost.
Anyone?
Joseph: yes, yes, yes! Only it’s even more splendid in person…
Jim McK: Thank you so much for the link to the Hunterian Psalter. What wonderful images. I love the Romanesque art more than the Gothic.
Jean: In the unreformed calendar, Pentecost ended the Paschal Season but it was not considered to open a new liturgical season. The Sundays were simply Sundays “after Pentecost.” Why the reformed calendar had to call this time “Ordinary Time” I don’t know, but it’s sure not a very inspiring designation.
I have a friend who always say ordinary time means time in order, not regular old time. I usually remind her that the system makes things so orderly, the first sunday in ordinary time is known as the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time.
The point in dropping the Pentecost and Epiphany designations iirc was not just simplification of a complex calendar, but also to provide a sequential reading of one of the synoptics each year. The reading begins before Lent, and picks up at the same place after Pentecost (and Trinity and Corpus Christi …) Readings reappear at about the same time every year, with Christ the King always on the 36th Sunday and culminating the gospel buildups to the Jerusalem ministry.
Fr — thank you for the Pentecost image from the Psalter. I would have passed it over on the other site if I had not seen the larger, lighter version here. I would probably just been absorbed in one of the Capitals or an animal, and missed out on the glorious faces. I am glad to see that there are more women with the Apostles, but what is up with Mary? She looks a little distressed, as if someone is keeping her from speaking.
The reason it is called Ordinary Time is because the Sundays are designated by their ordinal numbers. Sundays “of the year” is an equally good designation. The oldest liturgical use of the term Pentecost was for the fifty days and not for the fiftieth day alone. The octave of Pentecost followed by the “Sundays after Pentecost” contributed historically to a drift from the more ancient understanding of an Eastertide festival of fifty days (week of weeks plus one day); the reform of the calendar clarified the season and returned to the more ancient model. Add to this the decision that the paschal candle is not to be taken out of the sanctuary until Pentecost (formerly Ascension), and you see how the season of Easter (fifty days) is more sharply defined.
Recognition of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit in the church is never out of season, of course! Jean, green vesture is generally associated with growing things, life, and thus the many images of church that are drawn from agrarian metaphors. Discipleship is the dominant theme of the season of ordinary time on the whole.
I do know of people who find the idea of “ordinary time” inspiring precisely because it affirms the ordinary! But it was not intended to inspire, only to describe, and to remain in the background.
Margaret, that sounds wonderful and uncharacteristic. There was an article in La Croix just a couple of days ago that said that in France more than 50 percent of diocesan priests are over 75 years old, and that in the SouthWest it is not uncommon for a priest to be in charge of 50 to 60 churches and chapels (in fairness, probably in rural areas that are depopulated anyway, and probably not counting the many retired priests who are over 75 but continue to help).
“Profession of faith” (that also used to be called “communion solennelle”, as opposed to “communion privee”= first communion) is something that children in France do in 6th grade (sometimes 7th grade). It marks the end of their four years of CCD and is usually preceded by an away-from-home retreat for a couple of days. It’s a family event, the extended family comes and everyone gives presents to the child. It’s independent of Confirmation. When I was a child, for my profession of faith I received a watch, a clock, maybe a bike, some money, and one of my great aunts gave me a pious image, which I thought was weird.
The two Masses we have attended here in France have both been well-attended: the first at St. Severin in Paris on Ascension and at St. Martin’s in St. Remy. Given what one reads about the church in France, these have been a surprise: both well-attended; had high levels of participation, saying and singing; young or youngish priests; and many people going to Communion (admittedly some of them didn’t seem to know what was up–part of the extended family, perhaps). There were few young people at the Mass on Ascension, many more yesterday at Pentecost (perhaps friends of the young “professors of faith”).
It has been some years since we were in France. What is most notable is the Americanization of dress… not very many chic women (or men) in well-crafted outfits, lots of jeans, shorts, tee shirts, but I guess this is vacation land during a set of holidays. And the hair! not that I care…..
The mention of Saint Severin brings back vivid memories of July 1958 spent in Paris at the beginning of a Junior Year abroad. Pius XII was still alive. Saint Severin was at the forefront of the liturgical renewal in France: late afternoon Mass on weekdays, altar versus populum, prayerful participation of the congregation, a Pascalian “esprit de finesse.”
Regarding the “octave of Pentecost,” I believe that Peter Hebblethwaite, in his biography of Paul VI, recounts how Paul was surprised to discover that red vestments had not been set out for him on the day after Pentecost. When he inquired as to why, he was told that he had approved the octave’s supression.
The rationale that Rita provides makes good sense to me.
Thanks for the info, all.
I will continue to consider the Sundays after Pentecost as a season special to the Holy spirit whlle I watch everything green up and grow and try to figure out why a coven of crows has decided to move into my maple tree. Perhaps as a reminder that “God protects even the ravens” and wayward Catholics like me?
Margaret: I think we are in painful transition from a “one priest per village” mode to a “missionary land” mode, with a concentration of resources in a few parishes from where renewal will come. St Martin may be one of them – you got lucky. As to Saint Severin, as it is in the Latin quarter, I would be sad if it wasn’t alive!
“Perhaps as a reminder that “God protects even the ravens” and wayward Catholics like me?”
Brava, Jean!
Jean:
In support of your view, there is this, from the first missal I ever owned and used, the “Saint Andrew Daily Missal,” published in 1951, a “Doctrinal Note” introducing the time after Pentecost: “After the reign of the Father over the people of God which the season of Advent recalls, after that of the Son which began with his birth at Christmas and ended with his Ascension and which the seasons of Christmas and Easter recall, the liturgy celebrates the reign of the Holy Spirit which extends over the whole Church and is made manifest from Pentecost until the end of the world, which is mentioned on the last Sunday after Pentecost.”
A later, but still pre-Vatican II, missal, “The Layman’s Missal & Prayer Book,” an adaptation of the “Missel quotidien des fidèles” published in London in 1962, twice uses the term “ordinary time” to describe this period of the year. It also says: “The first few Sundays of this ‘ordinary time’ make frequent mention of the Holy Spirit’s action. This reminds us that the history of the Church is but a continued Pentecost. The Spirit is at work in the Church always and everywhere.”
The very last section of Yves Congar’s three volume, “I Believe in the Holy Spirit, is entitled: “The Life of the Church as One Long Epiclesis.”
In it there is this intriguing suggestion (I do not have the French available):
“In the case of the baptism of infants, the Holy Spirit intervenes as the principle of communion which transcends the details of space and time and is able to include the infant, who is still unconscious, within the faith of his parents, his sponsors, and the whole Church. This presents us with a real problem today and, what is more, one for which psychological, sociological, and biological considerations have not been adequate. What is needed is an effective power of communion and a transsupplementation of one consciousness by another in a unity that transcends human experience. This is supplied by the Spirit.”
Congar closes by quoting Aquinas: “IF the faith of one person or rather of the whole Church is valuable to the infant, this is thanks to the activity of the Holy Spirit who is the bond of the Church and through whom the treasures of each person are shared by all the others.”
Joseph, I don’t mean to be a curmudgeon, but you do understand what’s wrong with that 1951 text don’t you? I mean, this nice theological reflection doesn’t correspond to the actual liturgy, and thus has very limited usefulness as a commentary thereon. When I say “actual liturgy” I mean the missal of Pius V, although ancient liturgies would support such a construction even less. Theological embroideries were very popular in the Tridentine era, of course, but many of them embodied confusions, as this one does.
Perhaps more to the point might be Pope Pius XII’s words on “the time of Pentecost” [sic], by which he evidently means the Sundays after Pentecost (it’s part of his reflection on the liturgical year):
“Finally, during the time of Pentecost, the Church by her precept and practice urges us to be more docile to the action of the Holy Spirit who wishes us to be on fire with divine love, so that we may daily strive to advance more in virtue and thus become holy as Christ our Lord and His Father are holy.” (Mediator Dei, 160).
“This presents us with a real problem today and, what is more, one for which psychological, sociological, and biological considerations have not been adequate.”
Robert, do you think this has been the case? Perhaps you could say more. I am not sure, but the people I talk to seem very happy with a more commonsense (and I suppose psychological and sociological) explanation of sin, Christian nurture, and the development of faith within the family for which the role of the Holy Spirit as Congar describes it would seem to be a layer of abstraction very far removed from their comprehension. I don’t mean to say that people don’t believe in the Holy Spirit, but “transsuplementation of one consciousness by another” sounds a bit like science fiction (I suppose it would need to be unpacked and explained quite a lot). I suppose when Congar says “inadequate” he means inadequate to the mind of theologians. Perhaps you could say more about what is the “problem today” that Congar is wrestling with?
Rita, I could never think of you as a curmudgeon. I only sent on that paragraph because it coincided with Jean’s comment. I was not myself impressed by his trinitarian division of the liturgical year, much less by other assertions I didn’t send on.
Poor Jean’s comment coincides with an unimpressive trinitarian division of the liturgical year in a nice theological reflection that doesn’t correspond to actual liturgy.
I’ll have to go break the news to the crows. Maybe they can grok that bit about transsuplementation of consciousness.
I did like the pretty pitchers of the Pentecost and learning more about the old and new observances of Pentecost. But I think I better go find something more my speed now.
I think “Dancing with the Stars” is on. :-)
Rita,
(I’ll enumerate for sake of my own attempt at clarity):
1. Certainly we all live for the most part in what Lonergan calls the “world of common sense.”
2. But further questions arise (for Lonergan “raising further questions” is the most fundamental meaning of “transcendence.”) And then those legitimate questions need to be addressed.
3. If by “theologians,” you intend any one involved in the effort of “faith seeking understanding,” then “yes.” But I certainly do not limit such to a professional caste.
4. And so when one experiences at the liturgy of baptism the invocation of the saints, or when one professes that in the eucharist we receive sacramentally the very body and blood of the Lord who is at the right hand of the Father, and holds that these relations and interactions, with Christ and the saints, are both real and constitutive of our identity as Church, then, it seems to me, recourse to the categories of biology, psychology, and sociology are not adequate for a deeper understanding of the mystery. One must appeal to other categories that, while never fully comprehensive, point to the new reality into which we are brought by baptism and Eucharist.
5. It seems to me that Congar is pointing to this, as did Aquinas and Augustine, and, in our own day, thinkers like Balthasar, Zizioulas, and Sokolowski. This (let me use the word) “ontological” reflection is not the task of all in the Church, probably only a few. But such reflection is also a service to the body of Christ.
6. However, returning to the beginning, though sustained systematic reflection is not the task of all, it is but the prolongation of the continuing questions that arise from faith seeking understanding. And when they arise, we need resources to address them.
Robert, thanks. Now I get it. Thanks for spelling it out so clearly for this not-professional-caste theologian! :)
Bob: I don’t think “transsupplementation” is going to make it even in the most esoteric of theological vocabularies. The idea is valid, but the word is ugly.
Joe,
I presume it’s ugly even en français! Rosemary Haughton in her wonderful book, “A Passionate God,” develops a term used by Charles Williams and speaks of “coinherence” of consciousness. I think that points to the idea Congar is struggling with.
I see nothing wrong with transsupplementation except that there is an extra “s”, Does Congar really spell it that way? If we say transubstantiation, why not transupplementation?
I see now that the French do write transsubstantiation. Too bad! But at least we do not and there is no reason, as long as we are writing English, not to write transupplementation.
Joe Gannon: I actually had “transubstantiation” in mind when I noted the ugliness of “transupplementation.” Both are ugly words for beautiful notions.
What does “transsupplementation” mean?
O dear! Could it mean the supplying of something through a Spirit-caused transfusion, the something being in this context the necessary conditions for credal (creedal?) faith? The situation is that something must be supplied–as in grammatical analysis–that is not explicitly present but is implicit in a context. Is the grammatical analogy helpful?
J. Komonchak: I would say “ungainly” rather than “ugly”. So many issues take the form of the question: “What is the right word for this?”
Ann:
I think Congar coined the word to express what the quote from Aquinas said: “If the faith of one person or rather of the whole Church is valuable to the infant, this is thanks to the activity of the Holy Spirit who is the bond of the Church and through whom the treasures of each person are shared by all the others.” This passage is from the Summa theologica, III, q. 68, a. 9: Whether children should be baptized.” His answer appeals to Rom 5:17, on the solidarity of all human beings in the sin of Adam which is more than compensated for by the solidarity in the grace and righteousness of Jesus Christ. In his answer a first objection, namely that children are incapable of the required intention to receive a sacrament, Aquinas says: “The spiritual rebirth that occurs through baptism is in some way similar to natural birth. As children in maternal wombs do not receive nourishment from themselves but are sustained by the mother’s nourishing them, so also children who do not have the use of reason are in a sense in the Church’s womb and receive salvation not from themselves but by an act of the Church. This is why Augustine says…: ‘Mother Church provides a mother’s mouth to children so that they may be imbued with the sacred mysteries because they are not yet able to believe unto righteousness in their own hearts nor with their own mouths to confess unto salvation.’”
In reply to the second objection, that children are incapable of faith, he again quotes Augustine: “Children believe through others just as they contracted from others the sins that are remitted in baptism.” And he adds: “Nor is their salvation impeded if the parents are not believers because as Augustne says, ‘The children are offered to receive spiritual grace not so much by those in whose hands they are carried (although they are offered also by them if they are believers too) as by the entire fellowship of the holy ones and believers. They are rightly understood to be offered by all who are pleased that they are being offered and by whose charity they are joined to the fellowship of the Holy Spirit.’” On the one hand, the children of non-believers are not affected by their parents’ sin, but, on the other, “If the faith of one person or rather of the whole Church is valuable to the infant, this is thanks to the activity of the Holy Spirit who is the bond of the Church and through whom the treasures of each person are shared by all the others.”
“Transsupplementation” is an effort to express how what is lacking in the young child is supplied by the bonds created by the common share (fellowship) in the Holy Spirit and the solidarity in love he effects.
Aquinas uses similar arguments elsewhere to explain how one person can merit for another.
A few of you above mentioned the red vestiments used at the Liturgy at Penticost. In the Ukrainian Byzantine Churches, Penticost is the day of the year that GREEN is used (not red).
Green symbolizes LIFE—and corresponds to the Nicene Creed where we say, “We (I) believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life….”
I have always understood the red of the liturgical vestments of the West to symbolize the fire that came down upon the Apostles at the first Pentecost.
Hi, Joseph,
Yes, that’s what it means in the West. But the ONLY time Green is used in the Ukrainian Byzantine Church IS Penticost. Red is used for funerals. White is usually the color used for
Sunday liturgies.
JAK –
Thanks for the explanation. I see the problem. But I’m not sure Congar solves it. The solution is sort of the opposite of the problem we discussed earlier — the Pope admitted the bishops did the cover-ups and told other people to do the penance. Yes, we can pay someone else’s bills, and yes we can buy them treats, but it seems to me that there are just some things we have to do ourselves. And yet . . .