Hail Thee, Ferial Day!
Have you noticed that sometimes our clergy include “Alleluia” when the bread is broken at Communion while other times they simply say, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us?” Why do they do that? Is there a pattern, or is it just personal preference? Are they simply trying to keep us on our toes, or is there theological significance behind it?
One of my favorite hymns is Salve Festa Dies, to which we sing the words, “Hail thee, festival day!” At some churches, that hymn is sung on Easter Day, but at St. Paul’s we usually wait until the Day of Pentecost. Admittedly, with different rhythms in alternating verses, it is not the easiest hymn to sing, but it is a distinctly festive way to celebrate a principal feast in the life of the church. But what about the less important days—the ordinary days that are not awarded a special commemoration on the liturgical calendar? For those, there is a parody of the festive hymn, which sarcastically proclaims, “Hail thee, ferial day, blessed day on which nothing much happened.”
Feria is the word the church uses to describe an ordinary day—a non-festival day. Ironically, perhaps, the word feria comes from a root that means holiday, but somewhere along the way—probably because of some confusion over what to call the weekdays after Easter Day—liturgical calendars began labelling days that were not set aside for a special commemoration as ferial. Regardless of what you call them, on these days, instead of commemorating a particular saint or celebrating a liturgical season, the church carries on with its ordinary business of saying our prayers and worshipping God.
In our prayer book, the rites for the Daily Office and Holy Communion include many optional parts. Usually set off by brackets though sometimes mentioned in the italicized rubrics, these words or phrases are said or sung when the occasion (or priest) calls for them. A prominent example is the “Alleluia, alleluia,” which is usually added to the dismissal during the Easter season. For the fifty days between the end of the Easter Vigil and the conclusion of the Day of Pentecost, the deacon or priest offering the dismissal is allowed to include that distinctly joyful proclamation to the end of the liturgy. The prayer book says that those words may be added—not that they are required—and it also indicates that those words may only be added during Easter.
Have you ever been to a congregation that says those words all year long, except during Lent? Although I love a festive shout as much as the next person, I cringe a little bit when I hear colleagues adding the alleluias to the dismissal outside of Easter. In addition to being someone who trusts that the rubrics and rules associated with the liturgy are worth observing even when they do not reflect an individual’s preference, I believe that the fifty days of Easter should be distinctive, and I think the “Alleluia, alleluia” addition to the dismissal is a valuable way for the church to remember and celebrate Jesus’ resurrection from the dead as an historical event valuable enough to center the life of the church upon. Our calendar and our liturgical practices change because of Easter, and that makes those alleluias worth looking forward to for the other 315 days of the year.
But what about the alleluias we often say when the bread is broken during Holy Communion? How optional are they? Do they only belong to a particular season? Are the clergy of St. Paul’s breaking the rules when they say it outside of Easter? Unlike the alleluias that are added to the dismissal, those added to the fraction are permitted anytime during the year except during Lent. As the rubric (i.e. italicized text) under the fraction states, “In Lent, Alleluia is omitted, and may be omitted at other times except during Easter Season.” The brackets around the words make them optional, and when besides Lent that they should be omitted is open to interpretation.
This week, I asked Sara and Charles, both of whom trained for ordination at the School of Theology at the University of the South: Sewanee, whether leaving off the alleluia was something they were taught to do. Charles did not remember being told by a liturgy professor or mentor when it should be omitted, but he said that he likes to leave it out it on ferial days as a way to distinguish them from festive occasions. Following the same logic, Sara recalled being taught in seminary that the use or omission of the alleluia was a way to maintain that distinction.
Although I have spent some time at Sewanee, I did not go to seminary there. While my formation as a priest took place in more liturgically diverse settings, I, too, have picked up along the way a sense that the alleluia at the fraction should be left out unless the church is celebrating a feast or a season when it becomes appropriate, if not necessary. Nevertheless, I almost always say it, even on the most ordinary day after Pentecost, when the altar has been green for as long as we can remember.
For the most part, I include the alleluia because I think the congregation is used to it. I notice that, whenever one of us leaves it out, many in the congregation still say it out of habit. Anytime someone blurts out an uncalled-for alleluia, I feel the awkwardness, but during Lent that faux pas can even draw a murmur of judgment from others in the pews. Generally, I like to avoid clumsy moments in the liturgy when people are caught off guard, but I agree with my colleagues that there is good reason to save that alleluia for those special moments in the life of the church, even if those special moments come with relative frequency.
At St. Paul’s, we do not have a daily mass—a Communion service that is held every day. If we did, I suspect that more of us would value the distinction between ferial and festive. We do, however, say the Daily Office every weekday, and the renewed attention that practice has received has reawakened in me a desire to lean into the difference between ordinary and special moments in the liturgical calendar. I think I may start leaving off the alleluia during the midday and evening Communion services on Wednesdays when we are not commemorating a feast. I may even leave it out at the early service on Sunday mornings, though all Sundays in the church year are major feasts, arguably worthy of the alleluia.
The reason I want to make a bigger deal about the difference between festive and ferial days is two-fold: I think it makes the festive days more festive, but I also think it brings deeper sanctity to the ordinary days of our lives. Not every day needs to be Easter or Christmas for it to have deep theological meaning. If the only way Christians are able to discern the activity of the Holy Spirit in their lives is through the calendar of saints and other liturgical observances, we are in big trouble.
Yes, God is present and active in distinct ways when God’s people come together to celebrate All Saints’ Day or St. Luke’s Day or Thanksgiving Day, all of which are major feasts in our church, but God is equally present and active in harder to discern though no less valuable ways like today, October 8, a day when the church, for the most part, does not commemorate anything out of the ordinary. Today, as the parody hymn states, is a day on which nothing much happened, yet it is also the day that the Lord has made, on which we will rejoice and in which we will be glad.
Yours faithfully,
Evan D. Garner
