Missing the ‘gesimas

One of the reasons that it took Johnny Cash to wake me up for Lent this year, I am sure, has something to do with the disappearance of the ‘Gesima Sundays - that is, the three Sundays running up to Lent, including Septuagesima, Sexagesima, and Quinquagesima.

Since leaving my traditional Anglicanism for the Catholic Church, I have not really missed much. There is the dignified language of the Liturgy, of course, and the theological rigour required of being in a minority constitutency, but these things are merely incidental, and nothing that can not be replicated now that I am a Catholic. The traditional lectionary, however, in all its resplendent complexity and depth, and in its artful manifestation of the Christian mysteries through the course of the year, I miss immensely. I had not noticed how much this was the case, however, until this Shrove Tuesday past.

Quite simply, I had not prepared. In the good old days, by the time Lent rolled around, I would have already given thought to what I would give up, and considered the kinds of spiritual issues I wanted to address in the particular way provided for by the solemn season. This year, there was no warning. It was probably my own fault, but I suddenly found myself at the end of the Advent-Christmas-Epiphanytide volume of my breviary, and, thinking my choicest words, realized that the Church was shifting gears while I was stuck in first.

As I have already expressed, part of the blame for this sorry state of affairs must lie with the disappearance of the three weeks leading up to Lent. When I used to preach according to the old Rite, I used to say that Septua-, Sexa-, and Quinquagesima Sundays were like three tolls of a bell, calling us to prepare for that great journey through the spiritual desert. Back then, I could extend the metaphor all the way to the end of Lent, until we got into Holy Week and all the spiritual highs and lows that it represented. But no more.

Not only do I not preach any more, I am no longer even afforded the opportunity to consider these things, as the Catholic Church has relegated them to memory alone. And unfortunately, memory is fallible even if the Church is not.

There are certain treasures I believe are important for the Church to dig out of its storehouse and examine once again, for the good her health and for that of her members. Her ancient lectionary is one of those treasures. The reason for this has nothing to do with an eccentric penchant for archaic terminaology, or a mere desire for all things old. I could mount a substantial argument that it is because, along with a solemn and beautiful Liturgy, there is no medium more effective for communicating the Faith of the Church than the underesteemed logic of the traditional lectionary. As with the much-anticipated liturgical motu proprio, I await with eagerness a fresh discussion on its merits.

In this respect, please visit the site Lectionary Central for some excellent material on the traditional lectionary of the Western Church. For the webmaster of that site, its provision is a labour of love. Of particular interest are the various papers offered under ‘Lectionary Studies’.