Benedictine “Terroir”
“Terroir” is the French term that wine-mavens use to speak about the distinctive sense of place (soil, sun, climate) that enters into the cultivation of grapes and the production of notable wines.
Benedictine monasticism, with its vow of “stability,” also cultivates a sense of the distinctiveness of each monastery, its insertion into a particular place that is both earthly and sacred.
Reflecting upon the superb homilies of Pope Benedict (that will rank among the classics of the homiletic tradition), one aspect that strikes me is Benedict’s sensitivity to the “location” of his homily. A much commented example was his homily in St. Patrick’s Cathedral during his time in the United States. Many will recall his use of the art and architecture of the Cathedral to illustrate his reflections. Here is an example:
I would like to draw your attention to a few aspects of this beautiful structure which I think can serve as a starting point for a reflection on our particular vocations within the unity of the Mystical Body.
The first has to do with the stained glass windows, which flood the interior with mystic light. From the outside, those windows are dark, heavy, even dreary. But once one enters the church, they suddenly come alive; reflecting the light passing through them, they reveal all their splendor. Many writers – here in America we can think of Nathaniel Hawthorne – have used the image of stained glass to illustrate the mystery of the Church herself. It is only from the inside, from the experience of faith and ecclesial life, that we see the Church as she truly is: flooded with grace, resplendent in beauty, adorned by the manifold gifts of the Spirit. It follows that we, who live the life of grace within the Church’s communion, are called to draw all people into this mystery of light.
The pope’s homily for the Feast of Corpus Christi, which he celebrated on Thursday at the Basilica of St. John Lateran, is another fine example of his sense of “terroir.” He spoke of three dimensions of the Mystery of the Eucharist and related them to the three places in which the celebration would unfold.
The first was the assembly of the faithful in the Basilica to celebrate the Presence of Christ in their midst. The second was the procession with the Blessed Sacrament along Via Merulana, signifying our physical and spiritual walking with Christ. The third was the Adoration of Christ the Lord at solemn Benediction celebrated at St. Mary Major.
There has not yet been issued an official English translation of the homily, but those who savor Italian, like fine wine, can find it here.
Buona festa!
Bob, does the Pope write his homilies himself–do we know?
Cathy,
I cannot speak with certainty (and I suspect someone provided him the Hawthorne reference — though even that I would not take for granted). But my impression is that the distinctive breaking open of the Scriptures and the sensitivity to the aesthetic, including the sense of “place,” are his own. They seem to be not new “acquisitions,” but long-standing skills — derived I suspect from his decades-long immersion in Augustine.
I read somewhere of a “hierarchy” of papal writings – meaning that, for example, talks to various national groups or associations meeting in Rome whom he addresses are written by others, with him giving a final pass and additions before he delivers them. It was probably in an article by Sandro Magister, but I am not sure.
The homilies and major addresses are pretty well understood to be written himself with additional particulars related to a specific local situation added by those familiar with those particulars.
This is clear to anyone who is familiar with his writing. That is, as Bob says, you can see continued themes and approaches in his homilies and major addresses that are evident in 5+ decades of writings. To those who have taken the time to connect the dots, there really are no surprises in Benedict’s writings – unless you count the continuing surprise of an intellect undaunted by age – we should all live so long and so fruitfully.
Dear Fr. Imbelli,
May I ask you to comment on your effusive praise for the Holy Father’s homilies? If I may say so – and I say it with the greatest respect – his homilies – and his other writings – tend to leave me somewhat … uninflamed. I mean that in the sense that, while there is no doubt that, intellectually, his words have the power to surprise, particulalry in their range of subjects and the connections he makes in them, I confess that often I am left with the impression that I am reading an academic discourse. They don’t set me afire. I don’t mean to criticize him in saying that; no doubt the fault, if there is one, lies in me rather than him.
You’ve given me food for thought: surely homilies, like poetry and drama, are meant to be heard rather than read, and no doubt in reading it, one doesn’t get the full effect as if one were actually to “receive” it. Then, too, I’d imagine that in a parish setting, there is a relationship between the preacher and those receiving the proclamation – the words don’t exist in a vacuum, but as a concrete communication between persons who know one another, even if the relationship is no deeper than, “he’s my pastor / she’s the woman who always sits in the 2nd row”.
It causes one to reflect a bit on the records of great preaching from those who have died: what was it like to hear Ambrose or Chrysostom or Newman or Edwards actually *speak* the texts they have left behind?
At any rate, I confess that John Paul II’s homilies, and his other writings, had for me a quality of freshness and immediacy … a certain sparkle … that for whatever reason is muted for me with Benedict. Which is not to criticize him. Maybe, for whatever reason, JP II was just more “my kind of guy”.
Dear Mr. Pauweis,
I’ve been away giving a few talks, and am only now catching up.
Thank you for the helpful and informative comments on the other thread on “Beauty and the Liturgy,” and now for sharing your impressions on this one.
I have the greatest respect for the writings of John Paul II. I use “Dies Domini” and “The Gospel of Life” in my undergraduate course. But my personal favorite is “Novo Millennion Ineunte” — not least for its spareness and directness — focused on “the Face of Christ.”
Now, I’ve always suspected (merely intuitively) that Cardinal Ratzinger played a large part in its composition.
In any case, that is what I find in his homilies: an elegant spareness, a breaking open the word of Scripture to reveal the person to whom the words point, an evident integration of the homily into the eucharistic celebration. If I were to use one word, I would call his homilies “mystagogic:” a leading more deeply into the mystery of Christ.
But I appreciate your own differing sensibility. Perhaps, reverting to my “terroir” metaphor, it’s the difference between a buttery chardonnay and a lean sauvignon blanc :-)!
Thanks again.