By JAMES MONTI
As we advance through the later days of Lent, it is certainly not too soon to begin turning our attention to the days for which we are preparing, beginning with Palm Sunday, the great portal to Holy Week. Palm Sunday is one of the solemnities of highest drama in the liturgical year.
For it is upon this day that our Lord undertakes in earnest His battle to the death with the Prince of Darkness and the Father of Lies. Armed with both His omnipotent divinity and the humility of His humanity, He does not hesitate to ride into battle on the lowly back of a donkey. It is a day for which God had been preparing the world since the fall of Adam. In a homily for Palm Sunday, the Spanish Augustinian priest St. Alonso de Orozco (+1591) observes:
“. . .In this battle which Christ our King has ordained to enter upon with the devil, that all of us might be powerfully set free from his tyranny, so certain is His victory over this crafty enemy, that all the citizens of Jerusalem celebrate in song and laud with singular praises Christ the Conqueror….He has conquered and overthrown the arrogant king, the devil, who commands and reigns over the sons of pride, as Job attests (cf. Job 41:34), not with brazen arms, but with humility and meekness” (Declamationes quadragesimales, tam pro dominicis diebus quam pro quartis et sextis feriis, Salamanca, 1576, fol. 193r).
The Church, like a bride moved to the depths of her being by the valor of a husband who has made the ultimate sacrifice to save her, preserve her, and protect her, has for centuries poured over the events of this day with exceptionally dramatic liturgical rites. And it is particularly in the Palm Sunday rites of late medieval Christendom that the liturgical “dramatization” of this climactic confrontation between Christ and Satan reached the zenith of its outward expression. An especially fine illustration of this is provided by a missal of Krakow, Poland, dating from 1509 (Missale Cracoviense, Krakow, 1509, fols. 74v-78r).
The blessing of palms in the Krakow missal begins with a prayer traceable to the tenth century saluting God the Father as the “Fragrance of goodness,” beseeching His blessing upon the palm branches and that “with senses purified” in the truth of confessing Christ’s Holy Name the faithful may offer fitting worship and “with the fragrance of good works” go forth to meet Christ in the Heavenly Jerusalem.
Following two further prayers and an exorcism of the branches, there is a reading from the Book of Exodus (Exodus 15:27-16:10) that begins with a reference to “seventy palm trees” at Elim (Exodus 15:27), a place of encampment for the Israelites on their journey away from Egypt. The reading continues with God’s promise of “bread from heaven” (Exodus 16:4) and the flesh of quails to feed the children of Israel. St. Mark’s account of Christ’s entry into Jerusalem (Mark 11:1-10) is then read, and after further prayers the priest incenses the palm branches, sprinkles them with holy water and distributes them to the people.
The procession that follows, accompanied by sung antiphons, advances to a crucifix, where boy choristers with their arms uplifted sing, “This is He who has come for the salvation of His people.” After the choir repeats this, the boy choristers sing, “This is our salvation and redemption, O Israel,” which is likewise repeated by the choir.
Again the choristers chant, with the choir repeating after them, “How great is this One, whom thrones and dominations run to meet.” The choristers then sing, “Fear not, Daughter Zion,” and gesturing toward the crucifix, continue, “Behold thy king comes unto thee,” with the choir responding, “Sitting upon the foal of an ass as it is written” (cf. Zech. 9:9).
The boy choristers now kneeling sing, “Hail, O King, Maker of the world,” with the choir adding, “Who hast come to redeem us.” Following another antiphon, the choristers station themselves at the door of the church and facing those in the procession sing antiphonally the Palm Sunday hymn of St. Theodulph of Orleans (+821) Gloria laus.
Afterward the boy choristers, who are vested in surplices, return before the outdoor crucifix, carrying palm branches in their hands, and singing, “The children of the Hebrews.” Raising their palms, they continue, “Carrying olive branches, ran to meet the Lord on the way; and they cried out saying: Hosanna, Son of David,” with the choir repeating these words.
The choristers now throw down their palm branches before the crucifix and sing, “The children of the Hebrews,” removing their surplices and casting them before the crucifix at the words, “Cast their garments to the ground on the way, and cried out saying, ‘Hosanna, Son of David’.” Kneeling, they conclude the antiphon with the words, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”
During the singing of the antiphon Fulgentibis palmis (“With shining palms”), the choristers, having knelt, prostrate themselves at the words, “We prostrate ourselves before the Lord coming.” They then rise and continue, “Let us all go to meet Him, glorifying Him with hymns and canticles, and saying” (kneeling again), “Blessed be the Lord.”
The prelate who is the celebrant now goes before the crucifix with his ministers, and kneeling, he taps the crucifix three times with a palm branch, saying each time the words with which Christ warned the apostles of His imminent Passion and death, “For it is written: I will strike the shepherd” (cf. Matt. 26:31). After the choir completes this antiphon, the prelate, kneeling with two priests before the crucifix, sings twice, “Hail, O Cross, our only hope,” and then once, “You, O supreme God, O Trinity.”
The crucifix is then incensed by the prelate. He and all the people now venerate the crucifix, each kissing it as the responsory Ingrediente Domino (“The Lord entering the Holy City. . . .”) is sung, with the Mass of the day following.
In Plasencia, Spain (1554), a couch covered with a cloth of silk or gold would be set at the place where during the palm procession the crucifix is to be venerated. After the crucifix is set down on the couch, the priest who is the celebrant comes before it with two chaplains, and having knelt he takes up the crucifix with both hands and sings, “Hail, our King.” At this all the clerics and the people kneel. Then all stand as the words, “Son of David, Redeemer of the world,” are sung.
This salutation of the cross with its accompanying actions is repeated twice more, with the celebrant raising his voice higher each time. The third time, the antiphon is sung in full with the words, “The Savior Whom the prophets foretold was going to come to the House of Israel, you indeed [Whom] the Father sent into the world as the Saving Victim, whom all the saints have awaited from the beginning of the world; and now Hosanna, O Son of David. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest” (Missale secundum consuetudinem alme ecclesie Placentine, Venice, 1554, fol. 108r-108v).
The Epic Battle
The See of Plasencia was one of many places in late medieval and Renaissance Spain, Portugal, and France where the Palm Sunday procession would come to an evocative climax through a dramatization of verses 7 to 10 of Psalm 24.
Medieval Palm Sunday processions were civic events on a grand scale for the cities of Central and Western Europe, and thus they often set out from a church outside the city proper on a journey toward the city gates. In the case of the Plasencia procession, the city gates would be closed prior to the procession’s arrival.
Coming upon the closed gates, the celebrant, flanked by two chaplains, would sing verse 7 of Psalm 24, “Lift up your heads, O Gates/ and be lifted up, O ancient doors!/ that the King of glory may come in.” The celebrant would then strike the door with either a crosier or a cross. At this, choristers stationed inside would answer, “Who is this King of glory?” (Psalm 24:10).
Twice more, the celebrant challenges those inside with the words, “Lift up your heads . . . that the King of glory may come in,” each time striking the door and raising his voice higher than before. When those inside ask for the third time, “Who is this King of glory?,” the celebrant replies, “The Lord, strong and mighty,/ the Lord, mighty in battle!” (Psalm 24:8). He now strikes the door for the final time, upon which the gates are immediately opened, allowing the procession to enter the city (ibid., fol. 109r).
Neither the Palm Sunday rubrics of the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite nor those of the Ordinary Form at present call for such an array of dramatic actions as the medieval rites did, but bearing these medieval practices in mind will give us a heightened perception of the epic battle that our Lord fought to save us.
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