The relationship between Opus Dei and the London Oratory Fathers

Some of you might know that I am currently discerning my priestly vocation. If it is God’s will, I will probably join the Oratory of St Philip Neri at the Brompton Oratory located in South Kensington, London. However, if God wants me not to become a priest but instead to remain a celibate layman, I am considering joining Opus Dei as a Numerary Member.

Interestingly, I recently came across an article on the Opus Dei UK website about the history of Opus Dei in Britain, and in particular its early relationship with the Brompton Oratory.

According to the article, the earliest members of Opus Dei came to London in 1946 to begin their apostolic work. During those early years, they often attended Holy Mass and prayed at the Brompton Oratory. Then, in 1947, the first centre of Opus Dei in Britain was established in a flat at Rutland Court, in the Oratory parish, with the approval of Cardinal Bernard Griffin, Archbishop of Westminster. One of the Fathers of the Brompton Oratory would even celebrate Holy Mass once a week at the centre, at a time when there was no priest of Opus Dei based in London.

I find this little piece of history particularly interesting because of how closely these two spiritual realities have been connected from the very beginning of Opus Dei’s presence in Britain. The Brompton Oratory was not simply a place where the first members happened to attend Mass; it actually became part of the story of Opus Dei’s earliest years in London.

There is something quite beautiful about discovering this connection while I am myself discerning between these two possible paths. On the one hand, I am discerning a possible vocation to the priesthood with the Oratorian Fathers at the Brompton Oratory; on the other, I am considering the possibility of a vocation as a celibate layman within Opus Dei.

Of course, I don’t know yet where God is calling me. Vocational discernment is ultimately about trying to listen to God’s will rather than deciding everything for oneself. For now, I can only pray, learn, seek good counsel, and remain open to wherever He may lead me.

It is therefore quite encouraging -- and perhaps a little providential -- to discover that the histories of the Brompton Oratory and Opus Dei in Britain were already intertwined from their earliest days. Whatever vocation God eventually gives me, I hope that I will be able to recognise it with gratitude and embrace it faithfully.

The Roman Style Cotta Griccia: A Small Witness to Roman Liturgical Tradition

One of my vestment collection is the antique "Cotta Griccia alla Romana", which I think many Roman liturgical lore will remember well as a distinctive design style of a Roman cotta.

The Cotta Griccia, particularly in the Roman style, is recognisable by its characteristic pleated construction. The fabric is arranged into numerous small, regular pleats, producing a fuller and more structured garment than many of the simplified cottas commonly encountered today. These pleats are not merely decorative. They form an important part of the garment’s construction and give the cotta its distinctive Roman appearance.

The term griccia itself is associated with this pleated character. In historic examples, the pleating can be remarkably fine and carefully executed, requiring considerable skill in the preparation and maintenance of the garment. When worn over a cassock, the effect is unmistakable: the white pleated fabric falls generously from the shoulders, creating a sharp visual contrast with the dark clerical garment beneath.

What makes the Cotta Griccia particularly interesting to an antiquarian is its construction.

Rather than relying principally upon elaborate embroidery or rich coloured materials, its beauty is found in the manipulation of white linen or cotton itself. The repeated pleats create rhythm across the garment, while the fullness of the fabric gives it a dignified silhouette.

This is a good example of an important principle in traditional ecclesiastical craftsmanship: ornament need not always mean additional decoration. The structure of the garment itself can become ornamental.

The fine pleating catches light differently across the surface of the fabric. As the wearer moves, the folds open and close slightly, giving an otherwise simple white garment a remarkably animated appearance. When viewed alongside the black cassock, the visual effect is both restrained and ceremonial.

Historic Roman examples also remind us that garments intended for the sanctuary were often constructed with considerably more care than their apparent simplicity might suggest. The cotta might be handled, folded, washed and ironed repeatedly, and therefore required sound construction if it was to survive years of service.

This is one reason why I particularly value having an antique Cotta Griccia in my own vestment collection. Far from being merely a historical artefact, it continues to serve its original purpose: I still wear it today during liturgical services. In this way, the garment remains not simply an object preserved from the past, but a living part of the Church’s continuing liturgical tradition.

An old liturgical garment is not simply an old piece of clothing. It can function as a small piece of material evidence.

Its fabric tells us something about historical textile production. Its cut can reveal contemporary conventions of dress. Its stitching and pleating demonstrate the craftsmanship available to the sacristan or vestment maker. Signs of wear can even provide clues about how frequently and in what circumstances it was used.

Unfortunately, much historic liturgical vesture has disappeared. Some garments were discarded when they became worn; others were altered to suit later fashions, while still others were simply replaced by inexpensive modern equivalents.

Consequently, surviving examples deserve a certain degree of care.

The antique Cotta Griccia in my collection is therefore interesting to me not merely because of its appearance, but because it represents a surviving fragment of an older ceremonial culture.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the Cotta Griccia is that it is, in one sense, an ordinary garment.

It does not possess the visual splendour of a Gothic chasuble embroidered with gold thread. It does not have the monumental character of a processional cope. It is simply a white garment worn over a cassock.

Yet precisely because it was ordinary, it was part of the everyday life of the Church.

Generations of clergy and servers wore garments of this kind for Holy Mass, Benediction, processions, Vespers, and other sacred functions. It belonged to the daily rhythm of Catholic worship. Its historical importance therefore lies partly in its ordinariness.

There is something deeply fascinating about preserving an object that may once have been completely unremarkable to the people who used it.

Today, the same garment can appear almost exotic because the liturgical environment in which it developed has changed so considerably.

The study of historic vesture should not be reduced merely to nostalgia. Antique vestments provide an opportunity to understand how the Catholic Church expressed her theology, hierarchy and ceremonial life through material culture.

The Cotta Griccia demonstrates how even a relatively simple garment could embody the principles of dignity, order, proportion and craftsmanship.

For me, preserving one in my collection is therefore a small way of keeping alive an awareness of this heritage. It allows me to examine not only the garment itself, but also the hands and traditions behind it -- the vestment makers who constructed it, the sacristans who maintained it, and the generations of Catholics who encountered it as part of the sacred ceremonies of the Roman Church.

An antique cotta may never have been intended to become a museum object. It was made to be worn, washed, ironed, folded and worn again.

And perhaps that is precisely what makes it valuable.

The Cotta Griccia is a modest object, but it is a witness to a much larger history: the history of Roman ceremonial life, ecclesiastical craftsmanship and the material culture of Catholic worship.

In its pleats and linen, one can still glimpse something of the Roman sacristy of another age.

Beyond Ceremony: Rediscovering the Beauty and Meaning of the Sacred Liturgy

Why the Church's ancient rites, sacred traditions, and liturgical heritage still matter today?

The sacred liturgy stands at the very heart of the life of the Catholic Church. Through her public worship, the Church offers adoration to Almighty God, celebrates the mysteries of our Redemption, and draws the faithful into the sacramental life of Christ.

Yet the liturgy is more than a collection of prayers, ceremonies, vestments, and ritual gestures. It is an encounter with the living God, in which the visible signs of the Church's worship point towards the invisible realities of divine grace.

It is this profound reality that inspires me to begin this newsletter: a journey into the sacred liturgies, traditions, history, and ceremonial heritage of the Catholic Church.

The Liturgy: The work of Christ and His Church

The Second Vatican Council, in its Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, reminds us that the liturgy is the exercise of the priestly office of Jesus Christ. In it, the sanctification of humanity is signified through perceptible signs and accomplished in a manner proper to each sign; at the same time, the Mystical Body of Christ, Head and members, offers integral public worship to God.

This understanding is essential. The liturgy does not exist merely to satisfy personal preferences or to reflect the fashions of a particular age. Its deepest meaning lies in the worship of God and the sanctification of His people.

Every sacred action, from the celebration of Holy Mass to the administration of the sacraments and the Divine Office, belongs to the Church's treasury of worship. Its prayers, gestures, music, architecture, and ceremonial are not simply decorative additions. Properly understood, they help express the faith of the Church and direct the minds and hearts of the faithful towards the mysteries being celebrated.

A Living Heritage: Tradition and Continuity

The Catholic Church possesses a remarkable liturgical heritage, formed and handed down through centuries of prayer, theological reflection, and ecclesial life.

The Roman Rite, in its various historical forms, bears witness to this continuity. Its sacred texts, liturgical calendars, vestments, chant, ceremonial customs, and ritual gestures reveal something of the Church's enduring desire to worship God with reverence and beauty.

To study these traditions is not simply to look nostalgically towards the past. It is to discover how generations of Catholics have expressed their faith, understood the sacred mysteries, and handed on the treasures entrusted to them.

The study of liturgical history also invites careful distinction between what belongs to the substance of the liturgy, what has developed organically over time, and what has changed through legitimate ecclesiastical authority. A serious appreciation of tradition requires both historical accuracy and fidelity to the Church.

Tradition, properly understood, is not a museum piece. It is a living inheritance received with gratitude, studied with intellectual honesty, and handed on with care.

The Language of the Sacred

Why do vestments matter? Why does the Church preserve ancient prayers, sacred music, ritual gestures, and distinctive liturgical colours? Why are certain actions performed according to precise rubrics?

These questions deserve answers that go beyond personal taste.

The beauty and solemnity of Catholic worship can communicate truths that are not always easily expressed in ordinary language. Incense speaks through sight and smell; sacred chant elevates the prayer of the Church; vestments distinguish liturgical ministries and signify the sacred character of their service; silence creates space for recollection and adoration.

The ceremonial of the liturgy is therefore not an end in itself. Its purpose is to serve the sacred action, express the faith of the Church, and help the faithful participate in worship with understanding and devotion.

As Sacrosanctum Concilium teaches, the rites should be distinguished by a noble simplicity, be clear in their meaning, and be capable of the active participation of the faithful. Reverence, beauty, intelligibility, and authentic participation should not be treated as enemies of one another.

A deeper understanding of the liturgy allows us to appreciate not only what the Church does, but also why she does it.

Why this blog?

My own interest in the sacred liturgy has developed through years of involvement in liturgical service, ceremonial, and the study of the Church's traditions. These experiences have strengthened my conviction that the liturgy deserves to be approached with reverence, historical understanding, and a desire to learn.

Through this blog website, I hope to explore a broad range of subjects, including:

• Liturgical history: the historical development of the Roman Rite and other Catholic liturgical traditions.

• Sacred vestments and ceremonial: the meaning, use, and history of vestments, liturgical objects, and ceremonial customs.

• Theology and spirituality: the doctrinal foundations of Catholic worship and its place in the spiritual life.

• Sacred music and architecture: the contribution of Gregorian chant, sacred art, and church architecture to the worship of God.

• Tradition and contemporary questions: informed discussion of liturgical developments, ecclesiastical documents, and current debates within the Catholic Church.

My aim is not simply to describe ceremonies or reproduce historical curiosities. It is to encourage a more profound appreciation of the sacred liturgy as an essential expression of the Church's faith and life.

Such an undertaking calls for careful research, reliable sources, and a willingness to distinguish historical evidence from personal opinion. Above all, it requires an understanding that the liturgy belongs to the Church and must be studied in fidelity to her faith and legitimate authority.

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam -- For the Greater Glory of God

The sacred liturgy ultimately directs us beyond ourselves. Its purpose is not to draw attention to the minister, the ceremonial, or even the beauty of the rite considered in isolation, but to lead the faithful towards God.

The more deeply we understand the liturgy, the more clearly we may perceive the faith it expresses, the tradition it preserves, and the mysteries it celebrates.

It is my hope that this newsletter will serve as a modest contribution to that work: rediscovering the riches of Catholic worship, examining its history with care, and sharing its beauty with a wider audience.

I warmly invite you to follow this journey on learning more about the sacred liturgy and traditions of the Catholic Church.

May our study of the sacred liturgy lead us ever more deeply into the mysteries of the Faith and the worship of Almighty God.

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam -- For the Greater Glory of God!