Gottesdienst

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To Keep You From Saying: I Forgot

Wisdom from St. Peter Chrysologus in honor of the commemoration of St. Cyprian, whose commemoration in our Church fell on September 16th:

Dearly beloved, when you hear about the birthday of the saints, do not think that mention is being made of their birth from flesh into life on earth. There is a question of their birth from earth to heaven; from toil to repose; from temptations to rest; from tortures to delights which are not fleeting, but strong, firm, and everlasting; from worldly hilarity to a crown of glory.

Such birthdays of the martyrs are celebrated in a fitting way. Therefore, when a festival of this kind is being kept, do not think, dearly beloved, that the birthdays of the martyrs should be celebrated only by meals and more elegant banquets. Rather, what you celebrate in memory of a martyr is something proposed for your imitation. Consequently, dearly beloved, observe the ardor of the congregation which is present. At one time on this date a mob of evil men stood by, when, through the tyrant's orders, St. Cyprian was being maltreated. There were crowds of evil-doers and bands of onlookers. Now, a devout multitude of the faithful has assembled to rejoice. Then, there was a crowd of furious agitators; now, one of those who rejoice - then, a band of men without hope; now, one of the men who are full of it.

It is for a purpose that the birthdays of the martyrs are celebrated every year with joy: that that which happened in the past should remain in the memory of devout men of every century. The festival is carried out, dearly beloved, that you may not say that you know nothing about it. The festivities are celebrated annually to keep you from saying: I forgot.


- Homily 129 on St. Cyprian the Martyr

O blessed saints in bright array
Now safely home in endless day,
Extol the Lord, Who with His Word
Sustained you on the way.
The steep and narrow path you trod;
You toiled and sowed the Word abroad;
Rejoice and bring Your fruits and sing
Before the throne of God.
The myriad angels raise their song;
O saints, sing with that happy throng!
Lift up one voice; Let heav'n rejoice
In our Redeemer's song! LSB #676:3