Ribbon Placement:
Liturgy of the Hours Vol. III:
Ordinary: 651
Psalter: Monday, Week I, 702
Common of Several Martyrs: 1684 (verse)
Proper of Seasons: 293 (first reading)
Proper of Saints: 1453 (second reading, concluding prayer)

Office of Readings for Monday in Ordinary Time, the Memorial of Saints Charles Lwanga and Companions, Martyrs

God, come to my assistance.
— Lord, make haste to help me.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
— as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen. Alleluia.

PSALMODY

Ant. 1 Show me your mercy, Lord, and keep me safe.

Psalm 6
A suffering man cries to God for mercy
I am filled with dismay… Father, save me from this hour (John 12:27).

Lord, do not reprove me in your anger:
punish me not in your rage.
Have mercy on me, Lord, I have no strength;
Lord, heal me, my body is racked;
my soul is racked with pain.

But you, O Lord… how long?
Return, Lord, rescue my soul.
Save me in your merciful love,
for in death no one remembers you;
from the grave, who can give you praise?

I am exhausted with my groaning;
every night I drench my pillow with tears;
I bedew my bed with weeping.
My eye wastes away with grief;
I have grown old surrounded by my foes.

Leave me, all who do evil;
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
The Lord has heard my plea;
The Lord will accept my prayer.
All my foes will retire in confusion,
foiled and suddenly confounded.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
— as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

Psalm-prayer

Lord God, you love mercy and tenderness; you give life and overcome death. Look upon the many wounds of your Church; restore it to health by your risen Son, so that it may sing a new song in your praise.

Ant. Show me your mercy, Lord, and keep me safe.

Ant. 2 The poor are not alone in their distress; God is here to help them.

Psalm 9A
Thanksgiving for victory
You will come again to judge the living and the dead.

I

I will praise you, Lord, with all my heart;
I will recount all your wonders.
I will rejoice in you and be glad,
and sing psalms to your name, O Most High.

See how my enemies turn back,
how they stumble and perish before you.
You upheld the justice of my cause;
you sat enthroned, judging with justice.

You have checked the nations, destroyed the wicked;
you have wiped out their name for ever and ever.
The foe is destroyed, eternally ruined.
You uprooted their cities: their memory has perished.

But the Lord sits enthroned for ever.
He has set up his throne for judgment;
he will judge the world with justice,
he will judge the people with his truth.

For the oppressed let the Lord be a stronghold,
a stronghold in times of distress.
Those who know your name will trust you:
you will never forsake those who seek you.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
— as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

Ant. The poor are not alone in their distress; God is here to help them.

Ant. 3 I will be the herald of your praises, Lord, where the people of Zion gather.

II

Sing psalms to the Lord who dwells in Zion.
Proclaim his mighty works among the peoples;
for the Avenger of blood has remembered them,
has not forgotten the cry of the poor.

Have pity on me, Lord, see my sufferings,
you who save me from the gates of death;
that I may recount all your praise
at the gates of the city of Zion
and rejoice in your saving help.

The nations have fallen in the pit which they made,
their feet caught in the snare they laid.
The Lord has revealed himself, and given judgment.
The wicked are snared in the works of their own hands.

Let the wicked go down among the dead,
all the nations forgetful of God.
For the needy shall not always be forgotten
nor the hopes of the poor be in vain.

Arise, Lord, let men not prevail!
Let the nations be judged before you.
Lord, strike them with terror,
let the nations know they are but men.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
— as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

Psalm-prayer

Lord God, when you judge, do not be deaf to the shouts of the poor, bring havoc to the madness of oppressors. Look at our wounds and save us from the gates of death, so that we may always rejoice in your help and speak your praise in the gates of Zion.

Ant. I will be the herald of your praises, Lord, where the people of Zion gather.

Sacred Silence (indicated by a bell) – a moment to reflect and receive in our hearts the full resonance of the voice of the Holy Spirit and to unite our personal prayer more closely with the word of God and public voice of the Church.

Our spirits yearn for the Lord.
— He is our help and our protector.

READINGS

First reading
From the book of Job
29:1-10; 30:1, 9-23
Job bewails his affliction

Job took up his theme anew and said:
Oh, that I were as in the months past!
as in the days when God watched over me,
While he kept his lamp shining above my head,
and by his light I walked through darkness;
As I was in my flourishing days,
when God sheltered my tent;
When the Almighty was yet with me,
and my children were round about me;
When my footsteps were bathed in milk,
and the rock flowed with streams of oil;

When I went forth to the gate of the city
and set up my seat in the square –-
Then the young men saw me and withdrew,
while the elders rose up and stood;
The chief men refrained from speaking
and covered their mouths with their hands;
The voice of the princes was silenced,
and their tongues stuck to the roofs of their mouths.

But now they hold me in derision
who are younger in years than I;
Whose fathers I should have disdained
to rank with the dogs of my flock.
Yet now they sing of me in mockery;
I am become a byword among them.
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me,
they do not hesitate to spit in my face!
Indeed, they have loosed their bonds; they lord it over me,
and have thrown off restraint in my presence.

To subvert my paths they rise up;
they build their approaches for my ruin.
To destroy me, they attack with none to stay them;
as through a wide breach they advance.
Amid the uproar they come on in waves;
over me rolls the terror.

My dignity is borne off on the wind,
and my welfare vanishes like a cloud.
One with great power lays hold of my clothing;
by the collar of my tunic he seizes me:
He has cast me into the mire;
I am leveled with the dust and ashes.

I cry to you, but you do not answer me;
you stand off and look at me,
Then you turn upon me without mercy
and with your strong hand you buffet me.
You raise me up and drive me before the wind;
I am tossed about by the tempest.
Indeed I know you will turn me back in death
to the destined place of everyone alive.

RESPONSORY Job 30:17, 19:7:16

All night long my bones are racked with pain, a gnawing pain that never sleeps.
— God has cast me into the mire, where I am like dust and ashes.

Spare me, Lord, for my days are but a breath.
— God has cast me into the mire, where I am like dust and ashes.

Second reading
From the homily at the canonization of the martyrs of Uganda by Pope Paul VI
The glory of the martyrs—a sign of rebirth

The African martyrs add another page to the martyrology — the Church’s roll of honor — an occasion both of mourning and of joy. This is a page worthy in every way to be added to the annals of that Africa of earlier which we, living in this era and being men of little faith, never expected to be repeated.

In earlier times there occurred those famous deeds, so moving to the spirit, of the martyrs of Scilli, of Carthage, and of that “white robed army” of Utica commemorated by Saint Augustine and Prudentius; of the martyrs of Egypt so highly praised by Saint John Chrysostom, and of the martyrs of the Vandal persecution. Who would have thought that in our days we should have witnessed events as heroic and glorious?

Who could have predicted to the famous African confessors and martyrs such as Cyprian, Felicity, Perpetua and—the greatest of all—Augustine, that we would one day add names so dear to us as Charles Lwanga and Matthias Mulumba Kalemba and their twenty companions? Nor must we forget those members of the Anglican Church who also died for the name of Christ.

These African martyrs herald the dawn of a new age. If only the mind of man might be directed not toward persecutions and religious conflicts but toward a rebirth of Christianity and civilization!
Africa has been washed by the blood of these latest martyrs, the first of this new age (and, God willing, let them be the last, although such a holocaust is precious indeed). Africa is reborn free and independent.

The infamous crime by which these young men were put to death was so unspeakable and so expressive of the times. It shows us clearly that a new people needs a moral foundation, needs new spiritual customs firmly planted, to be handed down to posterity. Symbolically, this crime also reveals that a simple and rough way of life—enriched by many fine human qualities yet enslaved by its own weakness and corruption—must give way to a more civilized life wherein the higher expressions of the mind and better social conditions prevail.

RESPONSORY

We are warriors now, fighting on the battlefield of faith,
and God sees all we do; the angels watch and so does Christ.
— What honor and glory and joy, to do battle in the presence of God, and to have Christ approve our victory.

Let us arm ourselves in full strength and prepare ourselves for the ultimate struggle with blameless hearts,
true faith and unyielding courage.
— What honor and glory and joy, to do battle in the presence of God, and to have Christ approve our victory.

CONCLUDING PRAYER

O God,
who have made the blood of Martyrs
the seed of Christians,
mercifully grant that the field which is your Church,
watered by the blood shed by Saint Charles Lwanga and his companions,
may be fertile and always yield you an abundant harvest.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, for ever and ever.
— Amen.

ACCLAMATION (at least in the communal celebration)

Let us praise the Lord.
— And give him thanks.