| DIES | 23 Sun | 24 Mon | 25 Tue | 26 Wed | 27 Thu | 28 Fri | 29 Sat | 30 Sun |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Officium | S. Clementis Papæ et Martyris | S. Joannis a Cruce Confessoris et Ecclesiæ Doctoris | S. Catharinæ Virginis et Martyris | S. Petri Alexandrini Martyris | B. Mariae Immaculatae a Sacro Numismate | Feria Sexta Dom. XXIV Post Pentecostes | In Vigilia S. Andreæ Apostoli | Dominica I Adventus |
| Classis | Duplex | Duplex | Duplex | Simplex | Duplex Majus | Feria | Simplex | Dominica I. classis |
| Color* | Rubeum | Albus | Rubeum | Rubeum | Albus | Viridis | Purpura | Purpura |
| Missa | Dicit Dóminus | In medio | Loquébar | Státuit ei | Erit quasi | Dicit Dóminus | Dóminus secus | Ad te levávi |
| Orationes | 2a. Dominica XXIV et ultima Post Pentecosten | 2a. S. Chrysogoni Martyris | NA | 2a. A cunctis 3a. ad libitum | NA | 2a. A cunctis 3a. ad libitum | 2a. S. Saturnini Episcopi et Martyris | 2a. de S. Maria 3a. Contra persecutores Ecclesiæ |
| Notae | Gl. Cr. Pref. de sanctissima Trinitate Ev. Propr. ad fin.Missae | Gl. Cr. Pref. de Communis | Gl. Pref. de Communis | no Gl. Pref. de Communis | Gl. Cr. Pref. de BMV | no Gl. Pref. de Communis | no Gl. Pref. de Communis | no Gl. Cr. Pref. de sanctissima Trinitate |
| Nota Bene/Vel/Votiva | Missae votivae vel Requiem permittuntur | UK: In Octava S. EDMUNDI Regis et Martyris: Missa “In virtute tua” | Missae votivae vel Requiem permittuntur | Missae votivae vel Requiem permittuntur |
Sunday, 23 November – St Clement, Pope & Martyr, with the Commemoration of the XXIV and Last Sunday after Pentecost
Today the Church places before us one of the earliest successors of St Peter, St Clement—third after the Prince of the Apostles—who sealed his teaching with blood. Under Trajan he was cast into the Black Sea with an anchor around his neck: a shepherd drowned by the world, yet raised by Christ. Clement represents continuity: the unbroken chain of faith, doctrine, and sacrifice that winds back to the fishermen of Galilee. His epistle to the Corinthians still breathes with apostolic authority, calling the Church to unity grounded not in sentiment, but in obedience to the divine order.
The Last Sunday after Pentecost gives us Christ’s apocalyptic warning: the world passes, kingdoms crumble, the sun darkens—and yet He remains. Clement’s martyrdom becomes the seal on the Gospel’s promise: that amid the collapse of all earthly powers, the Church’s foundation is not sand but stone. A shepherd dies; the King remains. And the Church is summoned to stand firm as all else shakes.
Monday, 24 November – St John of the Cross, Confessor A feast of fire and silence. St John of the Cross teaches us that the soul is not saved by activity, noise, or self-invention, but by surrender. He steps into our frenetic world and whispers: “If you desire union with God, you must let God be God in you.” His doctrine is the antidote to modern confusion. Where the world tells us to “find ourselves,” John tells us to lose ourselves, for only what dies in us can be raised by God. He leads us through the dark night—not to extinguish the flame but to purify it. John shows that holiness is not a luxury of mystics, but the vocation of every Christian. The Cross is not an ornament; it is the ladder of ascent.
Tuesday, 25 November – St Catherine of Alexandria, Virgin & Martyr A young girl confounds the philosophers of the empire. Wisdom overturns power. Purity humbles tyranny. St Catherine shines like a torch in an age that worshipped strength and despised truth. She defends the Faith not with swords, but with arguments so luminous that her persecutors fall silent. The wheel meant for her torture shatters—symbol of the world’s machinery collapsing under the weight of divine truth. Her martyrdom reminds us that truth is not fragile. It is the world that is fragile before the truth. And in a culture that fears conviction, St Catherine’s clarity becomes an act of mercy.
Wednesday, 26 November – St Peter of Alexandria, Martyr The last bishop to govern the Church of Alexandria before the Arian crisis erupted, St Peter dies shortly after condemning Arius—before the heresy could poison the flock. His martyrdom is a hinge between two epochs: the age of blood and the age of doctrinal warfare. Peter teaches the lesson every age must relearn: a shepherd protects by judging, by clarifying, by defending the flock against wolves disguised as theologians. Holiness without vigilance is naïveté. Charity without truth is cruelty. His death foreshadows the storm to come—when the world’s bishops would be seduced by novelty and emperors would dictate doctrine. Yet Peter’s firmness anchors us: the bishop’s first duty is fidelity to the revelation handed down.
Thursday, 27 November – Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal On this day in 1830, the Mother of God stepped into history with a quiet urgency. She appeared to St Catherine Labouré in the chapel of the Rue du Bac and gave the world the image we now call the Miraculous Medal—a sacramental of grace, protection, and conversion.
Mary stands on the globe, crushing the serpent beneath her feet. Rays stream from her hands—graces that God pours into the world through His Mother, because He wills that the economy of salvation mirrors the humility of the Incarnation. As Sheen would say: “The Son came to us through her; so too must the gifts of the Son flow through her.”
The Medal carries within it a small catechism of the Faith: The Cross. The ‘M’ entwined with charity. The two Hearts—one crowned with thorns, one pierced with a sword. Heaven’s theology, stamped in silver. Its promise is simple and astonishing: Those who trust in Mary will not be abandoned by Christ. It is the sacramental of the poor, the humble, the desperate. Countless conversions, healings, and deliverances have come through it—not by magic, but by the intercession of the Mother who longs to lead all souls to her Son.
In an age drowning in confusion, the Medal becomes a lifeline: a reminder that grace is real, that Heaven intervenes, and that Mary still walks among her children calling them back to repentance, purity, and faith.
The serpent still bites at the heel of the Church.
But the Woman still crushes its head.
Friday, 28 November – Feria Sexta of the XXIV and Last Sunday after Pentecost Another day within the final arc of the year’s liturgy. The Church urges us to sobriety: “Heaven and earth shall pass away.” So too shall empires, fashions, and ideologies. The world shouts urgency; the Gospel whispers eternity. This feria is a quiet warning: to build on Christ, not the shifting sands of political fervour or passing spiritual trends. The last pages of the Missal prepare us for the first pages of grace.
Saturday, 29 November – Vigil of St Andrew the Apostle, with Commemoration of St Saturninus, Martyr The Vigil of St Andrew has a unique character. As the first-called Apostle, Andrew begins the whole story of discipleship. His feast stands at the threshold of Advent: the first voice at the door, the first footstep on the path to Bethlehem. Andrew brings souls to Christ—from Peter his brother to the Greeks who sought the Lord. He is the Apostle of holy introductions, the saint of beginnings. To celebrate his vigil is to prepare for a new beginning in our souls: a renewed Advent, a renewed desire for the Messiah. St Saturninus, martyred in Toulouse by being dragged by a bull, is a stark reminder that faith provokes hostility from the world’s powers—whether of beast, emperor, or ideology.
Where Andrew calls, Saturninus seals; where one begins the journey, the other crowns it with blood.
Sunday, 30 November – First Sunday of Advent (Semiduplex, I Class) Advent dawns not with sentimentalism but with judgment. The Church begins her year by proclaiming the End of Time. Why?
Because only those who long for the King’s return can meet the Child in the manger rightly. The violet vestments fall like twilight across the altar. The Prophet speaks of mountains lowered and valleys raised. St Paul urges us to cast off the works of darkness. The Gospel warns: “Watch.”
Advent is the season of desire. The heart must stretch, empty, and ache for God. Fulton Sheen would say:
“Bethlehem is the answer only for those who have first heard the question.”
The question is this:
What must change in me if Christ is to enter?
What must die if He is to be born?
What must I surrender so that His Kingdom may take root?
The new liturgical year begins as the old one ended: with the demand for holiness, vigilance, penance, and hope.
For Christ is coming—
not only in the crib,
not only in grace,
but in glory.
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