"…[T]he Mass is very much like the events of the Gospel itself. That is, in those events we saw ternal mysteries veiled under the inauspicious terms, not only of our world, but of the most unlikely crannies of our world. Nazareth: the ultimate small town. A stable: dung and straw for the child born to the purple. Crucifixion: the worst that our malice could arrange. And yet in all of these the eye of faith sees glory. It finds at these points what T.S. Elliot called ‘the point of intersection of the timeless with time’."
"Likewise with the Mass. To all intents and purposes, it is 8:00 A.M/ on Tuesday, June 13, A.D. 304, or A.D. 1995, in Lyons or Peoria. But we have stepped, the way the shepherds did, into the precincts of the eternal. No straw, no dung, no braying ass, that does not belong here. Belong here? Surely the mystery is to be perceived in spite of all that noisome stuff?"
"No. Belongs here. This is where, and how, the Most High prepared and set the scene for his advent. Let the straw stay; let the straw be acclaimed even, since in it all straw is touched with the dignity of proffering something to the Most High. If the asses are what they truly are, made by this Most High, then their very dung testifies to the odd and cyclic harmony that characterizes his creation. The Incarnate One will not draw fastitious skirts away from this that marks his beloved asses. No: he will be found, quite helpless, right here"
– Thomas Howard, On Being Catholic
, pp. 83-84
Tag Archives: liturgy
Sunday vs. December Twenty-Fifth
What can be said that hasn’t already been said about the surprisingly widespread practice among churches of a certain size and disposition of cancelling Sunday services this year because they happen to conflict with the Feast of Our Lords’ Nativity, a.k.a., Christmas? Amy Welborn tackles it here. Terry Mattingly at GetReligion shakes his head here. (Ack! Even while I was typing this I see that Jim Kushiner of Touchstone’s Mere Comments reports on the story by way of the Middle West’s “Paper of Record”.) Get the seminal, lowly, and unassuming Louisville Courier-Journal article here, from which I quote:
Southland Christian Church near Lexington is joining several evangelical megachurches across the country in canceling services for the holiday, which this year falls on a Sunday.
Officials at the church, where about 7,000 people worship each week, said the move is designed to allow staff members and volunteers to spend the holiday with their families.
The Detroit Free Press, in expanded coverage, adds this bit to the story:
“It’s more than being family friendly. It’s being lifestyle-friendly for people who are just very, very busy,” said Willow Creek spokeswoman Cally Parkinson.
What can be said that hasn’t been said, indeed? Leave it to me to try…
Repost: Discovering a Season
[The following a revised version of a previously published post. – Funky]
Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I get so excited that I start listening to my Christmas music at the beginning of November, much to the surprise and chagrin of some of my loved ones. Last year, I asked myself what I’ve been getting excited about. Is it the celebration of Christ’s birth? I wish I could say so, but the truth is that I’ve been enamored with the secular trappings of the season. Decorating the Christmas tree, baking cookies, singing catchy tunes, visiting relatives, watching classic movies, giving and receiving gifts (sadly, mostly the latter), playing in the snow (in those few lucky winters), and other generally faith-free activities have been Christmas’ raison d’etre for me.
Negative Correlation Between Foul Moods and Daily Mass Attendence?
For a couple months I was very good about getting out of bed in time to attend 8:15 AM daily mass. It was a great way to start my day. Then various aspects of life interfered and I began to make excuses for missing it. I haven’t been to daily mass more than a handful of times in the last couple months and I think it’s affecting my mood. I’ve been really grouchy and short-tempered lately and I’ve also had trouble fighting my usual temptations. Sure, the correlations might be coincidental, but what if they’re not? I’ve been depriving myself of the abundant graces offered in the mass for too long. Pray that I shake off my slothfulness tomorrow and give my soul the nourishment it needs.
Indult Masses
[I revised this post on 11/20 to remove some uncharitable statements. I apologize if they offended anyone. – Funky]
This made me chuckle:
"Some people are making a lot of noise about how disruptive [changes to the English Mass] will be. Perhaps. But what I think we’re seeing is mainly the nostalgic response of older people, for whom the current translations have become ‘traditional’ — even if that tradition goes no further back than a few decades. Maybe they can petition Rome for a special Indult by virtue of which Mass can be said (oh, maybe, in one church in each Province) according to the current translation, for the sake of those who are nostalgic for ‘And also with you.’ Perhaps Rome might even promote Bishop Trautman, and bring him to Rome to oversee the ‘And also with you’ Indult?" – Fr. Jim Tucker
Wouldn’t that be poetic justice? 😉
Wuerl lets Pittsburgh have an indult mass – barely. I think he’s afraid that greater availability would spur greater demand. Perhaps if the rumors of his excellency moving to Rome are true his replacement wouldn’t be so stingy with indults. I can hope. 😉
If Latin masses were more widely available, I’d consider going regularly. It’s not that I have anything against mass in vernacular languages or that the Pittsburgh Oratorians abuse the liturgy. Actually, the Novus Ordo masses that I attend at the Newman Center are solemn and respectful. However, there’s only so much you can do with the raw material. All the fine accoutrements in the world, e.g. bells, incense, and chant, won’t make up for the inadequacies of the current missal. Even the best production values and performances won’t turn an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical into a Puccini opera.
OK, perhaps that’s bit harsh, but the Pauline mass is neither an organic growth from the Tridentine, nor a faithful realization of the conciliar recommendations. In a lot of ways, it’s downright Protestant. I say pitch the Pauline missal and start from the Tridentine again. This time, let’s ONLY make the changes that the council actually called for. Once the liturgy is completed in Latin, keep it very far away from ICEL (I Create Exotic Liturgies) and other "innovative" translation groups.
The "reform of the reform" is a noble idea and I support it. In fact, I participate in it by singing in a schola. However, I see this movement as only a stop-gap. Even if the current mass were translated and celebrated properly, it’d still be sub-standard. The Novus Ordo is not the mass of the Second Vatican Council and to say so is an insult to the participants.
On a related note, at some time in the near future, Edey will publish a post detailing Vatican II’s document on the liturgy, Sacrosantum Concilium, the changes to the missal from 1962 to 1965 and from 1965 to 1970, and why the 1970 (Novus Ordo) missal is defficient.
Addendum: A recent post at Pontifications sums up how I feel pretty well.
"Do not mistake me. I am not romanticizing pre-Vatican II liturgy, nor am I pleading for a return to the Latin Mass. But looking at American Catholic liturgy as it has developed over the past forty years, one simply has to wonder, What in the world were people thinking?! How could anyone think that colloquial liturgical language is to be preferred to a formal, hieratic language? How could anyone think that drastic reduction of ritual gestures would strengthen the mystery of the Mass? How could anyone think that the adoption of sentimental pop-music would not destroy the sense of holiness and awe that is proper to the Eucharist? How could anyone think that the radical mutilation of the rite would not undermine the conviction that the Church has received a holy tradition and is not free to make it all up as she goes along? How could anyone think that by turning the celebrant around to face the people the Mass would be magically transformed into an intimate experience of community? How could anyone think that buildings constructed in the functional architectural style of the twentieth century could ever be appropriate to house the Holy Mysteries? Hindsight, of course, is twenty-twenty; but the liturgical delusion that took hold of the Church in the 60s and 70s is truly breathtaking."