Still too dark outside to see the inch or so of snow...

That has doubtless fallen... pft, it is 36 degrees F. and damp: there is no snow. My new, realistic hope is that we will enjoy a second snow event in the next few days. It is the feast of Saint John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church, 'golden-mouthed' because of the renown of his preaching and oratory (CE, Introibo, Wiki)-- it is always a bit disheartening when his feast recurs, or others' feasts at which texts of his are provided as lessons at Matins, and I realize that I must still use the Latin version because I can't read more than a few words of the Greek. Holy Mass is celebrated at 1000 at Saint-Eugène. 

Cardinal Schuster-- he was very much a man of his time insofar as the relations of the Roman and the Eastern Churches are concerned; I've left those bits out-- in his Liber sacramentorum

This undaunted defender of the truth perished under the hardships of his exile at Comana in Pontus on September 14, 407; but as on that day the Roman Church celebrated first the feast of the martyrs Cornelius and Cyprian, and then the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, his festival was transferred to this day, on which recurs the anniversary of the translation of his body to Constantinople. 

St John Chrysostom died a victim to the miseries and sorrows which he suffered for the Faith in the undaunted pursuit of his episcopal duties in defiance of the depraved Court of Byzantium. But because certain prelates, who undoubtedly professed the Catholic Faith, took part in the persecution which was stirred up against him-- this being permitted by God for his greater refining-- and because he did not actually die a violent death in defence of Catholic dogma, therefore the Mass offered in his honour is not that of a martyr, but of a Confessor and Bishop. 

The feast of St John Chrysostom in the Roman Calendar has a special significance, and shows how the Papal primacy becomes a source of good and a guarantee of liberty for the whole Catholic Church. John, being overwhelmed by his opponents and deposed from his see by the sentence of those bishops who were subservient to the Court, appealed to the Apostolic See. Pope Innocent I immediately took up his cause, annulled the unjust sentence, and, after the death of the saint, required of his adversaries as a condition of their remaining in communion with the Holy See that Chrysostom’s name should once more be inscribed in the episcopal diptychs, which action, according to the legal customs of that time, almost amounted to an equipollent canonization of the famous Confessor...

The Introit is identical with that assigned for the feast of St Ambrose on December 7, and is common to all feasts of Doctors. In the Collect the Church begs through the merits of the great 'Exile' for heavenly grace, especially for that of an inspired faith rich in strenuous works. The Lesson is also that of the feast of St Ambrose. Paul, on the eve of his martyrdom, or, as he himself expresses it, 'being ready to be sacrificed,' warns Timothy of the dangers threatening the Church through the work of false teachers and of the necessity of opposing all these inventions of human pride, by a pure doctrine and by a patient and forbearing apostolate worthy of a minister of Jesus Christ... 

The Gradual is the same as that of the feast of St Damasus on December 11. The Alleluia verse (James 1,12) is not from the Common of Bishops or Doctors, but is very applicable to St John Chrysostom, who succumbed to the cruelty of his persecutors. The Secret runs thus: 'May the loving prayer of thy holy bishop John Chrysostom fail us not, O Lord; may it make our gifts acceptable to thee, and ever win for us thy forgive¬ ness. Through our Lord.’ The Communion is like that of the feast of St Sabbas on December 5, but contrary to the ancient custom in Masses of the saints, it does not correspond to the text of today’s Gospel. This shows that the final compilation of the Mass for Doctors was made at a very late period, when this liturgical law had already fallen into disuse. In the Post-Communion we say: 'May blessed John Chrysostom, thy bishop and illustrious doctor, draw nigh, O Lord, we beseech thee, to make intercession for us; so that thy sacrifice may give us health. Through our Lord.'

Δόξα τῷ θεῷ πάντων ἕνεκεν, in all things may God be praised: this was the last cry of this valiant champion of the Faith when death was already drawing near to put an end to his sufferings and to deliver him from the hand of his tormentors. Most assuredly may God be praised in all things, but most of all when he grants us the inestimable honour of enduring something for his sake, for the cross is ever the surest means of making good progress in the ways of the Lord.

Almost time for Prime but I will find a quotable passage of Saint John on the Psalms, later on. 

Have stumbled over a book on fasting by a Jan Wouters van Vieringen, having first been distracted by a Latin presentation made in 2019 that In Medias Res posted yesterday. De ieiunio et abstinentia medicoecclesiastici libri quinque was published toward the end of the 16th century; van Vieringen was a physician who took up an ecclesiastical career after his wife died. He seems rather forlornly forgotten these days. The schola is (unexpectedly to me) singing the Mass, In medio Ecclesiae, of the common of Doctors, so am setting Doctor Viringus aside for the time being. 

M. l'Abbé de Labarre is sermonizing; I wonder if the schola-- they are certainly in good voice today-- is singing because we are rapidly running out of opportunities to sing the Alleluia? None on Saturday... they're not going to be singing None, eh; at Mass on Saturday, which will be the 4th Sunday post Epiphaniam anticipata, will be the final alleluiaising until Easter. The poor servers, ha, who have to know that a hundred pairs of optics are at least occasionally observing their head-scratchings and stifled yawns. Os iusti of Anton Bruckner at the Offertory. 

A motet that I didn't recognize at the Communion, after the proper Fidelis servus et prudens, and then Salva nos, Stella maris at the recession of the clerics. 

Post Sextam. One of the silly things I did when I got the iPad was to sign up for a neighborhood version of Facebook or MeWe (it serves a 'Craigslist' function, too). Generally, people comment on all the sorts of things that people in a neighborhood comment on, in an unremarkable sort of way ("I heard noises in my attic last night, what should I do? who should I call?", e.g., or posting a photograph of the sheriff's deputy doing deputy business with someone at his front door without either of them wearing a mask, quelle horreur). There is a certain preponderance of women and of women of the sort who walk their dogs three and four times a day and refer to them and to their cats as their 'babies'. Anyway, what caught my eye this morning was the lady who, when she walks her dog, 'always' notices two dogs in a certain backyard, rain or shine. She asked the 'community' whether she should approach the householder about this perceived maltreatment of the dogs or 'deal with the issue' in some other way. My own response, since in a way she asked for it (although not quite, really) would be, 'mind your own business'. The consensus, however, is that she should call the city's Animal Control people, under no circumstance taking the chance of knocking on the person's front door and asking about the 'issue' because that course of action is too fraught with danger (the unwritten subtext here being, '47%  of the population in Lane County keep guns and are violence-prone Trump voters', even though this neighborhood of Eugene-- really it is neighborhoods; we are a unity for the convenience of the app-- is more enlightened than some). It is a violation of a city ordinance to fail to provide outdoor shelter for animals. Brother.