u/igm_krypto

Hello everyone!

As someone who prayed the Breviarium Romanun or Monasticum for a while and began later on to pray the LH, I missed the beauty of the original latin hymns, even though the brazilian portuguese LH have pretty faithful translations.

I made a supplement with the gregorian melodies of all the hymns for Ordinary Time using Gregobase’s .gabc archives and compiling all with LaTex.

That’s the result

It took a while, but I am more than happy to share it with you all. Feel free to leave some sugestion.

I’m currently making a version with all the hymns for the liturgical times + sollemnities and will share asap.

I (21M) recall that at the age of 13, during my first traditionalist " for adults" catechism class, the priest taught us that "no one loves what they do not know," and that since God had created each of us solely to "know Him, love Him, and serve Him," knowing God was our duty and our salvation.

God, of course, reveals Himself as perfectly as is possible for the human intellect of a mere layperson through the Catechism of Saint Pius X, a compendium of doctrine published in 1912.

Over the course of the year, we would learn—always and exclusively through the texts the priest read to us—who God is.

We wouldn't even learn, on the other hand, the names of those who sat beside us throughout the year. The priest only wanted to speak with us once, and in private. On that occasion, his only concern for myself consisted in that I — as a male — was wearing a ring with a gemstone (which, of course, is appropriate only for ladies and dignitaires) and that I still served as an altar boy occasionaly at a nearby “Novus Ordo” parish that my familly attended.

There was no communal activity to experience other than listening, with an ever-growing passivity (referred to as "docility"), to whatever came out of the sacred mouth of our good shepherd—whether it was doctrine from dusty manuals or a hastily murmured Latin liturgy.

Unsurprisingly, not even half of those who began the catechism classes actually finished them, leaving only those who still needed to receive a sacrament of Christian initiation.

The apostle Saint John, in his first letter to one of the earliest Christian communities, warns that "whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1 John 4:8).

He defines, by writing so, what is to fail to know God. But how, then, can we know Him? The apostle himself explains right after:

"This is how we know that we are in Him and He in us: if we love one another, God abides in us and His love is perfected in us."

No one, the apostle teaches, has ever seen God (John 1:18 & 1 John 4:12). He can only be known through love for one's neighbor, who is the figure of Christ before us.

In catechism, I learned to "know, love, and serve God," whom, according to the Gospel, "no one has ever seen."

Later on, life taught me the very same thing the apostle had already proclaimed two thousand years ago:

"Whoever does not love their brother, whom they can see, is incapable of loving God, whom they cannot see."

Only long after catechism and after leaving behind almost everything I heard from that priest did I begin to learn what it means to know, love, and serve this other, who—always, and whoever they may be—is the true Christ, the Son of God.

I (21M) recall that at the age of 13, during my first traditionalist " for adults" catechism class, the priest taught us that "no one loves what they do not know," and that since God had created each of us solely to "know Him, love Him, and serve Him," knowing God was our duty and our salvation.

God, of course, reveals Himself as perfectly as is possible for the human intellect of a mere layperson through the Catechism of Saint Pius X, a compendium of doctrine published in 1912.

Over the course of the year, we would learn—always and exclusively through the texts the priest read to us—who God is.

We wouldn't even learn, on the other hand, the names of those who sat beside us throughout the year. The priest only wanted to speak with us once, and in private. On that occasion, his only concern for myself consisted in that I — as a male — was wearing a ring with a gemstone (which, of course, is appropriate only for ladies and dignitaires) and that I still served as an altar boy occasionaly at a nearby “Novus Ordo” parish that my familly attended.

There was no communal activity to experience other than listening, with an ever-growing passivity (referred to as "docility"), to whatever came out of the sacred mouth of our good shepherd—whether it was doctrine from dusty manuals or a hastily murmured Latin liturgy.

Unsurprisingly, not even half of those who began the catechism classes actually finished them, leaving only those who still needed to receive a sacrament of Christian initiation.

The apostle Saint John, in his first letter to one of the earliest Christian communities, warns that "whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1 John 4:8).

He defines, by writing so, what is to fail to know God. But how, then, can we know Him? The apostle himself explains right after:

"This is how we know that we are in Him and He in us: if we love one another, God abides in us and His love is perfected in us."

No one, the apostle teaches, has ever seen God (John 1:18 & 1 John 4:12). He can only be known through love for one's neighbor, who is the figure of Christ before us.

In catechism, I learned to "know, love, and serve God," whom, according to the Gospel, "no one has ever seen."

Later on, life taught me the very same thing the apostle had already proclaimed two thousand years ago:

"Whoever does not love their brother, whom they can see, is incapable of loving God, whom they cannot see."

Only long after catechism and after leaving behind almost everything I heard from that priest did I begin to learn what it means to know, love, and serve this other, who—always, and whoever they may be—is the true Christ, the Son of God.

I (21M) recall that at the age of 13, during my first traditionalist " for adults" catechism class, the priest taught us that "no one loves what they do not know," and that since God had created each of us solely to "know Him, love Him, and serve Him," knowing God was our duty and our salvation.

God, of course, reveals Himself as perfectly as is possible for the human intellect of a mere layperson through the Catechism of Saint Pius X, a compendium of doctrine published in 1912.

Over the course of the year, we would learn—always and exclusively through the texts the priest read to us—who God is.

We wouldn't even learn, on the other hand, the names of those who sat beside us throughout the year. The priest only wanted to speak with us once, and in private. On that occasion, his only concern for myself consisted in that I — as a male — was wearing a ring with a gemstone (which, of course, is appropriate only for ladies and dignitaires) and that I still served as an altar boy occasionaly at a nearby “Novus Ordo” parish that my familly attended.

There was no communal activity to experience other than listening, with an ever-growing passivity (referred to as "docility"), to whatever came out of the sacred mouth of our good shepherd—whether it was doctrine from dusty manuals or a hastily murmured Latin liturgy.

Unsurprisingly, not even half of those who began the catechism classes actually finished them, leaving only those who still needed to receive a sacrament of Christian initiation.

The apostle Saint John, in his first letter to one of the earliest Christian communities, warns that "whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1 John 4:8).

He defines, by writing so, what is to fail to know God. But how, then, can we know Him? The apostle himself explains right after:

"This is how we know that we are in Him and He in us: if we love one another, God abides in us and His love is perfected in us."

No one, the apostle teaches, has ever seen God (John 1:18 & 1 John 4:12). He can only be known through love for one's neighbor, who is the figure of Christ before us.

In catechism, I learned to "know, love, and serve God," whom, according to the Gospel, "no one has ever seen."

Later on, life taught me the very same thing the apostle had already proclaimed two thousand years ago:

"Whoever does not love their brother, whom they can see, is incapable of loving God, whom they cannot see."

Only long after catechism and after leaving behind almost everything I heard from that priest did I begin to learn what it means to know, love, and serve this other, who—always, and whoever they may be—is the true Christ, the Son of God.

Alguém já participou dessa Flying Run BSB e pode dizer como é?

Me recomendaram, mas desanimei com a taxa de 249 e o kit com camiseta apenas…