Start memorizing now
The USCCB has made the revised-and-approved texts of the mass available online, in PDF form. (Thanks to Whispers in the Loggia for the heads-up.) You can also find a cover letter of sorts here.
I understand it will be quite a while yet before we actually make the switch — they haven’t settled on the collects yet, is that right? But at least this will give us all a chance to practice. I know it’s going to take me a long time to get used to the changes, especially the part about “…that you should enter under my roof.” I can already see myself boring my grandkids with stories about the weird things we used to say at mass when I was a girl. (Although I’m hoping these won’t be the biggest changes we see between now and then.)
Composers (and malcontents) take note: this is also an opportunity to get a jump on Marty Haugen in composing the next popular musical mass. Please note, we’re getting tough this time: No paraphrasing! The memorial acclamation looks like it will be a particular challenge…
This will be a pastoral catastrophe.
What are we to make of gobbledygook like the following?:
For them and all who are dear to them
we offer you this sacrifice of praise
or they offer it for themselves
and all who are dear to them,
for the redemption of their souls,
in hope of health and well-being,
and fulfilling their vows to you,
the eternal God, living and true.
The whole thing is an embarrassing confession of theological destitution.
Yikes. I’m glad I won’t have to say it. (If you’re playing along at home, that’s Eucharistic Prayer I, #85, “Commemoration of the Living.”) Maybe this is all a stealthy attempt to get everyone to switch to the extraordinary form voluntarily?
On the other hand, I do like some of the new stuff in the eucharistic prayer, in particular “Order our days in your peace…”
It would be helpful to know when the switch is expected, for pastoral planning. I haven’t seen anything to indicate a timeframe: 6 months? 5 years?
Kathy – it’s looking like 2-3 years. Rocco at Whispers in the Loggia (linked above) reports: “According to the US conference’s current projections, the body’s final vote on the entire package is expected to reach the floor at its November meeting in 2010. Pending the pace of recognitio for the full Missal, among other variables, rollout’s most-often eyed for Advent 2011.”
Bishop Arthur J. Serratelli, chair of the USCCB Committee on Divine Worship, gave Catholic News Service an optimistic guess of two years — but he also said, “In terms of the people’s part, it’s not gong to require too much adjustment… I think once or twice after they use it, they will hardly notice the change.” So I think Rocco may be the one to go with here.
Mollie,
Thank you. For some reason I was under the impression that there was going to be a series of rollouts, and that this piece would go into effect earlier while the propers are refined.
I agree with Fr. O’Leary’s second point to this extent: the main difference here is theological; specifically, there is a much stronger sense of praying to God in se.
A small example:
“Lord Jesus Christ, with faith in your love and mercy I eat your body and drink your blood. Let it not bring me condemnation, but health in mind and body.”
is now:
“May the receiving of your Body and Blood, Lord Jesus Christ, not bring me to judgment and condemnation, but through your loving mercy be for me protection in mind and body, and a healing remedy.”
The new version of a priest’s private prayer is admittedly convoluted, and the syntax is not immediately clear on first reading (esp. “the receiving………be”). However, a strong sense of intimacy is gained, as well as–let’s face it–a laudable passivity. The priest receives, rather than eats. The loving mercy of Christ is active–it is not the priest’s faith in Christ’s love and mercy that helps the priest; rather the mercy itself makes the reception a protection and a healing remedy.
In the old version, the second sentence is only somewhat understandable as a prayer, and that sense is completely dependent upon the first sentence. If the second sentence stood alone it could easily be nothing more than a wish.
Some of the changes are straight out of the Anglican Missal. The “under my roof ” thing is in the Missal. Anglicans also use “and with thy spirit” also. I guess I’ll just have to relearn it again.
Kathy,
How is the newer prayer more intimate? As you say, it is convoluted with odd syntax which should be enough to disrupt any intimacy. “How love thee do I? The ways let thou count I will.” ??
More noticeably, rather than a direct address “Let it” we are forced to remember the original subject, which is “the receiving”, a nonpassive action on our part rather than a Godly deed. (and why isn’t it “my reception”?)
I have no idea if it is an improvement, but I know it is not more intimate.
When I say theological destitution, I mean that we have failed, or ICEL has failed, to truly imagine the theological significance of the Eucharist. Its myopic literalism ALSO bespeaks a complete lack of literary and linguistic sensitivity both in regard to the English and the Latin languages and their communicative and expressive potential.
This is going to be a pastoral disaster, and the reasons lie deep — in theological and literary impoverishment and also in an abuse of power.
Setting aside the questions about the translation’s quality for a moment (and only for a moment, because that’s an important discussion) — I’m alarmed by Bishop Serratelli’s comment to CNS (which I mentioned above) that “in terms of the people’s part, it’s not going to require too much adjustment… Not much of the people’s part is changed, and I think once or twice after they use it, they will hardly notice the change.” I sincerely hope Bishop Serratelli will not be the one coordinating the rollout in 2011 or whenever it actually hits. And I hope just as sincerely that someone will be coordinating it. Because it will be a major adjustment, his optimism notwithstanding, and the impulse to minimize that seems fatally misguided. (Maybe he’s playing it down for the press — but he was talking to CNS!)
First there’s that irksome notion that “the people” should only be concerned with our “part” — the celebrant prays on our behalf; aren’t we supposed to be listening to his words too? But aside from that, let’s be honest: nearly everything “the people” say has changed, along with a lot of the cues. That may not seem like a big deal from a historical perspective, or even from a priest’s perspective, since they have more changes to deal with. On the other hand, they’re already in the habit of reading from a missal. Most laypeople are not, at least in my experience. I know I tend to use a missalette only to follow the readings — as for the rest of the mass, from what I’ve observed, people either participate from memory or don’t participate at all. The ones who might benefit from following in the missalette (visitors, less-than-frequent attendees) tend not to bother with it, and who can blame them? With all the various options (“The priest says A, or B, or C”), it might be more trouble than it’s worth.
So, those of us used to relying on memory — and deeply rooted memory at that — are going to have to get used to leaning on a crutch, and I think we’ll need it more than “once or twice,” unless we’re cramming at home. Replacing the old Nicene Creed with the new one will be enough to keep my brain busy. I’d like to think this could be an opportunity to renew the spirit of active participation — but only if the hierarchy admits it’s a challenge and gives parishes and pastors the support they’ll need. (What form should that take? Any suggestions?) If they decide to pretend it’s no big deal and leave us all to find our own way, I suspect that will frustrate and discourage faithful and casual massgoers alike. We’ve been saying the same things for more than 25 years; I’m very attached to the old language, even in places where the new language might be lovelier or loftier or more specific, precisely because I’ve been praying with it my whole life. In another 30 years I might be praying just as happily, and maybe even more effectively, with these new words. But only if, during the transition period, when I’m fumbling with the missalette and feeling disoriented and distracted, the bishops don’t add insult to injury by telling me it’s really no big deal.
(I apologize for leaving the italics on in my last comment.)
Fr. O’Leary: if I may ask, what do you imagine is the theological significance of the Eucharist?
Jim,
Actually, the poem you quote is a good example of convolution that does not detract from intimacy. A more straightforward, easily comprehended writer would have said, “In the following poem I shall mention different things I love about you, one by one.” Or at least, “Let me count the ways I love you.” These expressions would be, in contemporary liturgy jargon, “proclaimable.”
I think that the passive in this case (and often in prayer) implies the action of God.
Kathy,
“receiving” is not passive; it is an act of the priest, and is the subject in this prayer. Replacing both God and priest with “the receiving” puts the two at a greater remove, ie less intimate.
“May the giving of your Body and Blood” (or even better, gift) makes it an action of God, with the priest passive.
Syntax can undermine intimacy by placing obstacles, or help by cutting through obstacles. I do not see the latter happening in this translation, and you acknowledged the former. (in the poem, the question invites the hearer to a common contemplation; that might not be appropriate for proclamation, which is a problem with proclaimability as a standard)
So I am left puzzled about what you think is more intimate.
Three places strike me.
(1) “People of good will” in the Gloria. The “good will” (eudokia) is God’s toward the human race not ours toward God. I doubt anyone will understand that from the ICEL’s English.
(2) “consubstantial with the Father” in the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed. The preference for Latinate obscurity over Hellenic clarity (“one in being with the Father” captures “homoousios” perfectly) is appalling.
(3) “my sacrifice and yours” in the “Pray brothers and sisters”. In English we place the second person before the first person. We say “you and I” not “I and you”. The new translation is likely to foster prebyteral egotism. Remember Cardinal Wolsey. He is supposed to have said “ego et rex meus”, good Latin, but I suspect it did not please Henry even in Latin.
“And, striking their breast, they say: through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault …”
Makes me long for the God of “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” who commanded Arthur and his knights to stop groveling and averting their eyes … where, oh where, is a Holy Hand Grenade when we need one?
Jim,
Just to be clear– I don’t think obstacles increase intimacy. Not my point at all.
I think that intimacy is increased when it is clearer that God, in se, is involved in all the processes of religion. In this case, “your loving mercy” provides an ongoing flow of grace that makes this great but rather dangerous good, the reception of the Eucharist, a protection and a healing remedy. “Protection” and “healing” also supply an ongoing aspect to the action of God.
It’s one thing to give a person a gift and say goodbye. It’s something else entirely to be with the person full-time, giving them the gift-as-fruitful. The second kind of promise is made in the new translation, repeatedly, and that is what I mean by intimacy.
(“Receiving” is a passive, almost feminine, act. It surely implies a giver.)
Still another example of hierarchical”out of touch” as if the “restorationist” desire to conform to Latin will make a difference in folks’ lives.
I’m reminded of a friend who told us that his pastor had informed them before Mass of “an important change in the Church: we had to stand when Father said, Pray Brethren.”
My friend said he laughed so hard he almost cried.
The effort and argument about all this underscores the problem of polarization spoken of below and the further problem of moving ahead instead of going backward.
Go Bob, If I ever saw the reality of the expression, “the labor of mountains brings forth a mouse” this is it. I feel sorry for the poor priest who is going to look out at his conregation, where people’s houses are colder because they can’t afford oil, they can’t afford sufficient food because of skyrocketing inflation, and may be on the brink of losing their houses because of the credit crisis, and may be in jeopardy of losing their jobs and now tell them that,after many years of study and great expense, their prayer will be better if they answer “And with your spirit instead of And also with you. Jesus spoke about the ritualism of the scribes and pharisees. We have come full circle. I hope they didn’t feed these guys meals when got together to discuss this. If they would have been sent to the fields to pick the crops for their lunch and dinner, they would have finished the job in half the time and come up with something more important. What the chuch may need is another Calvin or Luther.
I’m not sure I understand. In order to translate, or to govern in the Church, a person should be a farmer–is that what you mean?
“Fr. O’Leary: if I may ask, what do you imagine is the theological significance of the Eucharist?”
I have very rarely written on the Eucharist. I wrote a piece lately on “the Eucharist as a work of art” and there are also some remarks in http://josephsoleary.typepad.com/my_weblog/2006/10/the_gift_at_the.html. But I admit that I do not have a satisfactory vision of the Eucharist — in which regard I am not alone! It is a subject I have studied occasionally, since following J Ratzinger’s course on it in the Gregorian in 1973. I believe we should all be deepening our grasp of the scriptural origins of this Sacrament. There seems to be a dearth of books that bring out the meaning of the Eucharist in its broad, eschatological perspective. Perhaps Louis Chauvet’s “Symbol and Sacrament” can be recommended. One banality I will offer: we must get beyond reified or fetichized conceptions of the eucharistic action and see it instead as a dynamic participation in the Paschal Mystery, in which the sacrifice and meal dimensions are inseparably conjoined.
Fr. O’Leary,
Why do we have to choose between dynamism and stasis, between perduring presence and participation?
Because the biblical God is not a static God but a God who comes. Because his presence is always one that involves our participation. To try to focus on God in se independently of that dynamic of salvation in which we are caught up by God in Christ would be to run the risk of idolatry.
Eucharist Adoration does not mean adoration of a static perduring presence. It is rather an extension of the eucharistic action, as Pius XII insisted. (It develops from the viaticum.)
There are several things that I like about the new translations, at first blush.
I like the threefold “through my fault” in the Confiteor.
I like the fully elaborated “we praise you / we bless you / we adore you / we glorify you / we give you thanks for your great glory” in the Gloria.
I like the epiclesis in Eucharistic Prayer II: “Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, / by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall.”
I like the dismissals, particularly: “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord.”
Fr. O’Leary,
God is “Who Am,” as well as Emanuel. I do not understand why we should have to choose between being fully engaged in the Eucharistic action and adoring the Eucharist with the latria that Pope Paul VI insisted was due.
I like the epiclesis in Eucharistic Prayer II: “Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, / by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall.”
Actually, I think, the dew does not fall. But I wonder how the descent of the Spirit would be like the fall of dew, if in fact dew falls.
I agree with you, Jim, I like that stuff too — with the possible exception of the “dewfall” line. I tend to find images helpful in focusing prayerful attention, so I expect I’ll come around to liking that too, once I get over the weirdness of it.
I think I will secretly enjoy the abjectness of the “through my fault…” breast-beating bit (even though I laughed at Robert’s Monty Python reference above). And I love the new dismissals, especially the one you mention. “The mass has ended… Thanks be to God” has always sounded funny to me; too much like a sigh of relief.
Joseph,
The scriptural reference for the image is Isaiah 45:8: Let justice descend, O heavens, like dew from above, like gentle rain let the skies drop it down. Let the earth open and salvation bud forth; let justice also spring up! I, the LORD, have created this.
Ordinarily this passage is used liturgically of the Son, rather than of the Spirit, but in this case (as in the Incarnation) there is perhaps a permissible conflation due to the agency of the Spirit Who brings the Son into the world.
There is an ancient Advent hymn that takes its refrain from this passage:
Rorate coeli desuper
et nubes pluant justum.
Ne irascaris, Domine!
Ne ultra memineris iniquitatem.
Ecce civitas sancta facta est deserta:
Sion deserta facta est.
Jerusalem desolata facta est.
Domus sanctificationis tua et gloria tua,
et ubi laudaverunt te patres nostri.
Vide, Domine, afflictionem populi tui.
et mitte quem missurus es:
emitte Agnum, dominatorem terra,
de petra deserti ad montem filia Sion:
ut auferat ipse jugum captivitatis nostra.
Consolamini, popule meus:
cito veniet salus tua.
Quare mirore? Innovat te dolor?
Salvabo te: noli timere.
Ego enim sum Dominus Deus tuus:
Sanctus Israel, Redemptor tuus.
God desires mercy, not sacrifice.
Participation in the Paschal mystery is participation in God’s mercy. Eucharistic adoration is a sacrifice of praise offered to God, a ritual that God deserves.
Doing what God desires is preferable to doing what God deserves, istm.
In any event, Eucharistic adoration should always be directed toward the Eucharistic celebration, with adoration recognizing God’s continuing presence on behalf of the sick, the alienated, and others who are unable to participate in the celebration. That in itself should answer the question of which is more important and why.
Psalm 133 speaks of the dew of Hermon:
“How good it is, how pleasant, where the people dwell as one!
Like precious ointment on the head, running down upon the beard, Upon the beard of Aaron, upon the collar of his robe.
Like dew of Hermon coming down upon the mountains of Zion. There the LORD has lavished blessings, life for evermore! ”
The river Jordan springs out of the base of Mt Hermon, so this dew is the source of those life giving waters.
Bishop Seratelli’s confidence that the faithful will hardly notice the difference says a good deal about the utter cluelessness of those who cobbled together the new liturgy. The language of the present service may lack eloquence, but it is simple, direct, and suitably humble (without groveling). The new version, with all those profound bows and breast-beating, ands pompous, opaque language is no improvement at all. Fr. O’Leary is right: it is embarassing.
I just realized that “dewfall” appears in the Eleanor Farjeon hymn (and Cat Stevens song) “Morning Has Broken”:
Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass.
So I’ve heard it at mass at least a few times before!
I’m just hoping that Seratelli’s comment doesn’t indicate the attitude the bishops plan to take when it’s time to introduce the changes. I see this as an opportunity to get everybody focused on the liturgy, and individual pastors may take it upon themselves to start that process in their parishes. But there ought to be clear and visible leadership from the top — especially on something like this, which as noted above is likely to strike “Joe and Mary Catholic” as further evidence that the hierarchy is out of touch.
Kathy
As you say that passage is usually applied to the Son. It is beautiful even if dew does not really fall but rather condenses. But the application of the concept abstractly and without context to the Spirit seems to me more like confusion than conflation.
On another point we heard this morning that “for many” is to be substituted for “for all” in the narrative of institution because not everyone accepts Christ’s offer of salvation So much for training at a certain seminary. Our presider did not seem to understand that it is one thing to say that Christ died for all, quite another to say that all will be saved. I hope someone will prepare guides for the pastoral exegete of the textual changes. We don’t want John and Mary Catholic to pick up the Jansenist notion that Christ died only for the elect,
Joseph – are you saying that a priest actually said that this morning at mass? I thought the decision to render “pro multis” as “for many” was made in spite of the fact that it would make it sound like Christ died only for the elect. If priests are actually preaching that it means what it sounds like, I second your call for carefully prepared guides! (Actually I think we should get those anyway.)
Thanks to Andrew and Susan – where is perspective???
I find most of the comments here indicative of this whole project as expensive, divise and unnecessary!
Some of the earlier thread asked about research and writings on the theology of eucharist. Fr. O’Leary made an excellent point that we need to always keep “sacrafice and Meal” that sends us forth to live the paschal mystery.
Here are a couple of other suggestions: a book by Tad Guzie called “The Sacramental Basics” and then this article: Shortcut to: http://www.newcatholictimes.com/index.php?module=articles&func=display&ptid=1&aid=386 by John Quinn.
Finally, had an interesting prof in college who got me to read Josef Jungman’s “History of the Mass” – it is thick but shows the twists and turns of different nations, cultures, rites, etc. as the eucharistic liturgy evolved and changed. He does include some theological reflections but the main focus is on the liturgical expressions.
You asked the question – is this project divisive and unnecessary? Personally, like Fr. O’Leary, my answer is yes……it reminds me of a quote: “We are re-arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.”
The Vatican II liturgical principles and renewal were very successful – could the translations have been better? probably, but that was not the focus. It was to get folks more involved, active, and full in their participation. It relied and empowered national conferences to do their own translations – it was not centralized another hallmark of good liturgy. How can we support this? We educated; we learned vernacular responses that everyone could remember and achieved full and active participation.
This project will impact full and active participation – it will force many folks into using missalettes; older people will feel alienated; it will require an immense and careful pastoral leadership/training effort (can our current clergy pull this off? Do they have the energy and time?)
Here is another slant on this whole project from a liturgical expert and why I think focusing on translations misses the point and the greater needs of the church, liturgical and otherwise:
Shortcut to: http://129.74.72.9/rm/FMPro?-db=rm%5f&-format=record%5fdetail.htm&-lay=full&-sortfield=yyyy&-sortorder=descend&-sortfield=mm&-sortorder=descend&-sortfield=dd&-sortorder=descend&new%5fid=now&-max=15&-recid=34909&-find=
Bill,
Were the liturgical reforms of Vatican II necessary or trivial?
Should there be one reform, or an ongoing reform?
Here is another approach to liturgical renewal, inculturation, full & active participation by national conference, rites, cultures. This is from Pius XII’s 1951 encyclical, Evangelii Praecones.
“This is the reason why the Catholic Church has neither scorned nor rejected cultural philosophies. Likewise the Church has graciously made her own the native art and culture which in some countries is so highly developed. She has carefully encouraged them and has brought them to a point of aesthetic perfection that of themselves they probably would never have attained. By no means has she repressed native customs and traditions but has given them a certain religious significance; she has even transformed their feast days and made them serve to commemorate the martyrs and to celebrate mysteries of the faith. Persevering research carried out with laborious study, on the part of her missionaries of every age, has been undertaken in order to facilitate the deeper appreciative insight into the various civilizations and to utilize their good qualities to facilitate and render more fruitful the preaching of the Gospel of Christ. Whatever there is in the native customs that is not inseparably bound up with superstition and error will always receive kindly consideration and, when possible, will be preserved intact.” In this encyclical the pope then was a man of his times, and yet was at least semi-reverent toward others’ ancient understandings of spirit, art and music and dance.
The point of authentic ritual is that the rite has the entire heart and soul and spirit and brain and mind and body and universe and heartbeat in it … versus ritual by rote or by centralized “more faithful to the latin” approach.
To answer your question – the above may not help. Vatican II continued or re-found the older Catholic tradition that liturgical renewal is always on-going. It posited the fact that the Tridetine/Vatican I reaction had cast in stone one liturgical approach and this needed to be changed. Josef Jungman’s book and research was a foundational document used by Vatican II experts to demonstrate and prove that liturgical renewal, inculturation, vernacular use, etc. were all part of the church’s history until the Reformation.
In liturgy, theology, morality, natural law – Vatican II’s principle is: Ecclesia semper reformanda….the church is always changing. The truth remains but its expression changes with the times. There should be on-going reform – my difference with this reform is that it moves us backwards; it reaffirms centralization; it again blesses the tridentine latin as a “higher” form or more pure form of liturgy. That violates the principles of Vatican II.
The metaphor of the Spirit as dew is quite common in the ancient and medieval Latin authors; Ambrose, for example, says that our arid hearts need to be watered and softened by the Spirit’s dew. The phrase used in the Second Eucharistic Prayer “Spiritus tui rore sanctifica” apppears in the Mozarabic Liturgy in a eucharistic context.
A further eucharistic association for the metaphor is the linkage between dew and the manna in the desert in Ex 16: 13ff. The Israelites awoke to find dew lieing all around their camp. And when the dew had gone up, they found the manna. The epiclesis, then, would ask that the Spirit descend as dew so that the eucharistic manna might become present. Just a thought.
Thx to Kathy and Jim McK for the dewy citations. The new EP II epiclesis also brought to my mind the sequence for Pentecost, Veni Sancte Spiritus, which contains this verse:
Heal our wounds, our strength renew;
On our dryness pour Thy dew;
Wash the stains of guilt away:
… and has much other wonderful Holy Spirit imagery besides.
“The point of authentic ritual is that the rite has the entire heart and soul and spirit and brain and mind and body and universe and heartbeat in it … versus ritual by rote or by centralized “more faithful to the latin” approach.”
Bill, thx for the Pius XII quote, to your comment that he was a man of his time, I’d add that he also set the table for Vatican II in many ways, as I believe the passage you quoted exemplifies, and for that we can all be grateful.
Regarding your comment I’ve quoted above … while not disagreeing with your point about authentic ritual, it’s worth noting that the text of the rite is not the totality of the ritual, and there are many other dimensions that work with the ritual text and action to enable the total participation that you envision.
I’d add two other points as well: the process for achieving this new translation was not purely centralized, in fact it’s a concrete instance of subsidiarity and collegiality. And istm that the continuity with the current translation far overshadows whatever variations are in the text.
M<y last here:
Thanks to Bill for staying on the question of why this reform and is it really helpful.
Of course, I’ll add that Vatican II reform was necesary as we broke away from all the medieval practices of side altar masses, masses mumbled in latin while many prayed their rosaries or just did what they had to do and hoiped Father said Mass fast, etc.
People werea wakened to,as Bill points out, the life of the liturgy.
I also want to go back and support Andrew’s point that Church leadership is dithering in minutiae while many face real problems. I thought tthe psudocleverq uestion about leaders being farmers was not only insulting but also indicative of the ‘out of touch” by the defenders of “restoration.’
Mr. DeHaas: You wrote: “my difference with this reform is that it moves us backwards; it reaffirms centralization; it again blesses the tridentine latin as a “higher” form or more pure form of liturgy.” I’m not entirely sure what you mean by “this reform” here, but if you mean a Rome-directed reform of the reform of the liturgy, I don’t see any evidence that the Tridentine Latin rite is officially considered “a higher or more pure form of liturgy.” Benedict XVI is said to have resisted the proposal that when he allowed a wider use of the unreformed liturgy, it be placed on the same level as the reformed rite. Instead, the latter is said to be the ordinary way of celebrating the Roman Rite, the unreformed rite being considered extraordinary.
I second the remark of Jim Pauweis that “the text of the rite is not the totality of the ritual, and there are many other dimensions that work with the ritual text and action to enable the total participation that you envision.” So much else goes into a “successful” liturgy, by which I mean one that engages all in common praise and gratitude to God and so opens them to receive his word and grace.
The texts themselves, of course, are only black marks on white paper. They only come alive (or don’t) when uttered. Consider the different ways in which we have heard them being uttered by a clebrant; sometimes they are rattled off with all the apparent attention of the man who announces the stops on the train-line in Grand Central Station. E.g., the invitation to communion. You don’t have to pretend you’re John Barrymore, but it wouldn’t hurt to say with some solemnity: “This is the Lamb of God,” and then even to pause for two beats before going on: “This is he who takes away the sins of the world,” and then a similar pause, and then “Happy are those….”
One of the problems I had with the old ICEL translations of the orations is that very frequently they couldn’t really be proclaimed publicly: they were so flat, so banal. (That’s why I made my own translations.) No translation should be approved until after it’s been tested by public use.
And we probably don’t want to go down the music road again, but when ditties that might be considered too trivial for a bubble-gum commercial are offered to accompany the holy words about Christ’s death and resurrection in the eucharistic acclamations, well …
Mollie
I kid you not.
Fr. Komonchak
I thank you for your reference to the manna in Exodus. It makes the association clear. I think that works well. I still would prefer “dew” to “dewfall”, which I find a bit cute–no offense to Ms Farjeon.
Thanks to Jim and Fr. K for their comments and clarifications.
a) Extraordinary Permission for the Paul VI Missal – have a tendency to over-exaggerate but my comments stem from this link: Shortcut to: http://www.thetablet.co.uk/articles/10042/
yes, I understand the effort to broaden rites; welcome back others; and maintain some connection to the Reformation and Tridentine liturgies but it also raises questions about our understanding of Church;
b) agree that the liturgy is more than just word. I may have poorly expressed myself but my concern is that these new translations will impact all of us so that full and active participation will be lessened. Like you, bland, rushed, unprepared celebrants, deacons, and lectors drive me nuts but see this link: Shortcut to: http://www.thetablet.co.uk/articles/9298/
c) ICEL – the history and politics behind this is more complicated than your comments suggest. ICEL 1998 translations were very poetic, easy to proclaim, uplifting, and corrected the Vatican II rush to translate into the vernacular. BUT, Rome negated these; disbanded ICEL, appointed their own ICEL, and now force each english conference to vote and then get Rome’s approval – not exactly subsidiarity: Shortcut to: http://www.thetablet.co.uk/articles/2380/
So, agree with your clarifications but still concerned by this process.
The richness of the symbol of dew–whose meaning we’ve barely touched on, which could easily inspire dissertations and books, and probably has–suggests that there has been a great deal of meaning lost to the liturgical experience of the last 40 years.
The first ICEL translation, the one I was talking about, at one point seems to have decided that certain metaphors were no longer meaningful to “modern man” as he would have been known in the early 1970′s ICEL’s stationery at one point included the names of all the countries for which it was providing the English translation. One of them was Iryan-Jaya (sp. ?), and I had doubts that what counted as “modern man” there was very much like “modern man” in, say, New York.
In the ICEL translation of Eucharistic Prayer II, “Haec ergo dona, quaesumus, Spiritus tui rore sanctifica” as “Let your Spirit come upon these gifts to make them holy.” The metaphor is simply dropped.
An image was also restored early in Eucharistic Prayer III, “so that from the rising of the sun to its setting a pure sacrifice may be offered to your name.” Not “from east to west” but “from the rising of the sun to its setting,” which invokes, at least, Malachi 1:11:
For from the rising of the sun even to its setting, My name will be great among the nations, and in every place incense is going to be offered to My name, and a grain offering that is pure; for My name will be great among the nations,” says the LORD of hosts.
Another restored image is the (in)famous “under my roof,” which alludes obviously to the healing of the centurion’s servant in Mt 8:8, and resonates for me (perhaps tenuously) with Rev. 3:20: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”
As I understand it, the 1970′s ICEL had a policy of translating according to “dynamic equivalence.” I don’t know enough about what that means, but it did allow for liberties such as the above.
No, Kathy, They don’t have to be farmers, but this group would have been better off if thery were farmers. Jesus, Himself, recognized that the people had to be fed, and have their needs met in order to pray. Feeding them and clothing them, may be the best form of communal prayer. rathering than arguing what sounds better.
Andrew,
I honestly don’t see why or how good liturgy interferes with charitable giving. Can you give any reason for raising this particular objection?
Asked another way: Is the more intense engagement with the Word of God in the revised texts likely to lead to better Christianity? If not, then it seems that the Word of God has been chained or rendered powerless, which seems unlikely! If so (as I hope), then won’t there be a more intense practice of charity?
Re: dynamic equivalence
In Greek the “dynamis” of a word is its “force” and so “meaning” and so “dynamic equivalence” amounts to semantic equivalence, Example: “with your spirit” is a Semitism that has the force of “with you”, so the translators were content to capture the force of the words and to discard the Semitic idiom in which the thought was couched.
Joseph G.,
The translation of the Ordinary is from Latin, not Hebrew or Aramaic. So I think the more pertinent question is: what is the force of “spirit” in Latin? Isn’t it a person’s highest faculty (the French esprit is similar), whether “mind” or “spirit”?
The trouble with the “reform of the reform” is that it is anti-tradition. Dynamic equivalence is now part of our tradition, and the apparent repudiation of it is a mistake. It need not remain as the most important principle, but it needs to be carried forward in any continuing reform.
I am more troubled by the outright awkwardness I hear when I read some of this. Kathy offered a prayer that starts “May the receiving of your Body and Blood; how is that better than “May receiving your Body and Blood”? Or “May the reception of your Body and Blood”? That prayer continues with more of the same, rendering a wordy mess that is the opposite of the succinct Roman diction. It is a good thing I am not a priest — I would be rewording on the fly to get something more like English.
I am willing to forgive such sloppiness, but we should be aware that it is present and should not be.
I agree with what Jim McK has just said about many of the translations of the Ordo Missae; in fact, I wrote two very lengthy critiques of it as it was being prepared and sent them to various prelates. That’s part of what I meant by saying that these prayers have to be read, performed even, before one can pass a final judgment on them as public English. I read my own translations out aloud before printing them, and even then I find sometimes that using them at the Liturgy suggests changes needed for the sake of clairty or of rhythm.
On dynamic equivalence I am less positive, especially if the idea is, for example, that we should look for a metaphor common in English as the dynamic equivalent of a different metaphor common in the other language. Languages enrich one another. Think of all the ones that came into Latin and Greek and their linguistic heirs from the Hebrew Scriptures.
As for “And with your spirit”: van Unnik argued a few decades ago that the “spirit” in the phrase refers to the spirit that the Church prays will come down upon the man being ordained, in other words, that it is not the equivalent of “and with you”.
I would like to respond to Kathy’s comment regarding Eucharistic Prayer III, I do not think the previous ICEL translation was taking liberties. True, “so that from east to west” is not a verbatim translation, but I do believe that it better invokes Malachi 1:11 than the translation which has just received a recognitio.
I am grateful to Kathy for so kindly suppliying the entire quote from Malachi. It is clear that this is not simply a temporal reference which is communicated in the phrase “from the rising of the sun even to its setting”. The author’s statement is that God’s name will be great not only day after day, but also “in every nation.”
To be honest, I think that this piece of translation brilliantly maintains the meaning contained in the Malachi reference insofar as “east to west” has both the sense of the temporal (day to day) and the spacial (to the ends of the earth). An esteemed colleague has pointed out that perhaps “from the orient to the occident” would satisfy both the literalist and those who are familiar with the Malachi reference.
FWIW, “From the rising of the sun to its setting” also invokes a frequent antiphon from Liturgy of the Hours. I believe it’s the Ordinary Time antiphon for Psalm 63, the “morning” psalm for Sunday Week I of Morning Prayer. “From the rising of the sun to its setting, may the name of the Lord be praised.”
As I’ve been reading the discussion here about EP III and Malachi, the melody to which this antiphon is set in “Christian Prayer” has been running through my head.
It’s difficult to say whether or not that sort of a connection, between a Eucharistic Prayer and a LotH antiphon, is something that the translators thought importnat. But it’s proved to be evocative for me.
“c) ICEL – the history and politics behind this is more complicated than your comments suggest. ICEL 1998 translations were very poetic, easy to proclaim, uplifting, and corrected the Vatican II rush to translate into the vernacular. BUT, Rome negated these; disbanded ICEL, appointed their own ICEL, and now force each english conference to vote and then get Rome’s approval – not exactly subsidiarity: Shortcut to: http://www.thetablet.co.uk/articles/2380/”
Bill, just want to say that you’re quite right to point this out, and I’m glad you did.
Lisa,
Thanks for your thoughtful comment.
I do believe that there is still something important lost in the “dynamic equivalent” translation, and that is the image of the sun travelling through the sky. “So that from east to west” could be said about the surface of the world–a map or a globe. But “from the rising of the sun to its setting” includes the higher spaces of the sky.
(I’m sensitive to this because I have a hobby of translating Latin hymns and am used to their images, which often enough have a kind of God’s-eye view of the world. The world is an orb, and it’s sleepy.)
Furthermore, the image of the sun as the marker of time recalls an important christological image from Psalm 19:
The heavens proclaim the glory of God
and the firmament shows forth the work of his hands.
Day unto day takes up the story
and night unto night makes known the message.
No speech, no word, no voice is heard
yet their span goes forth through all the earth,
their words to the utmost bounds of the world.
There he has placed a tent for the sun;
it comes forth like a bridegroom coming from his tent,
rejoices like a champion to run its course.
At the end of the sky is the rising of the sun;
to the furthest end of the sky is its course.
There is nothing concealed from its burning heat.
I say this image is Christological because of the Ambrosian Advent hymn, Veni, Redemptor Gentium, which includes this verse:
Procedat e thalamo suo,
pudoris aula regia,
geminae gigas substantiae
alacris ut currat viam.
That’s the Christological reference that springs to mind–besides the obvious image of the sun itself–however, I would wager that there are many patristic Christological uses of Psalm 19.
Thanks, Jim. My point is we can research and try to understand each phrase, word, etc. but that misses the point. You start with liturgical principles; you empower conferences to customize and incultrate valid and viable language, rites, rituals. I get bored with this thread when it veers to word analysis.
Reality – we have moved in the West from aramic, to greek, to latin, to vernacular. why do we now want to move back to latin because some vernacular phrases/words were not “accurately” translated…..who is making that decision? The current ICEL is made up of priests who have neither liturgical nor scriptural degrees …..give me a break.
I like “from the rising of the sun to its setting” now that I’ve read all this. The extended quote from Malachi makes it clear that the image is meant to convey a sense of “throughout the world” — the since-recognized-as-spherical world — as well as a sense of time passing. So I thank everybody for your input. (“From the orient to the occident” — that’s so uninspiring I’m kind of surprised it’s not what they settled on!) The discussion of “dewfall” has been similarly enlightening.
My fantasy is that every parish or community could prepare for the new texts by engaging in discussions like this. That, I think, would enhance our liturgies and our prayer, regardless of whether the reform is necessary or wise. But it would require some sort of effort on the bishops’ part to make sure the people doing the educating and informing knew what they were talking about, as Joseph’s experience yesterday shows…
For “with you”/ “with your spirit” look at the closings of the letters in the Pauline Corpus. I found “with you” 6 times and “with your spirit” 3 times and in one instance (II Tim. 4:22) he has both together (“The Lord be with your spirit. Grace be with you.”) I cannot find any subtle distinction between the two ways of speaking. You might look at Joseph A. Fitzmyer on Luke 1:47 for Semitisms in the “Magnificat” (p. 366 in his Anchor Bible Commentary). The liturgy may be in Latin but much of it is Scriptural and Scripture is not in Latin.
Kathy
Sorry, I meant to address the preceding to you in response to your question.
On the question of metaphors: In his “Religion Booknotes” in the June 6th issue of “Commonweal,” Larry Cunningham takes note of the new book by Elizabeth Dreyer, “Holy Power/Holy Presence: Rediscovering Medieval Metaphors for the Holy Spirit,” which discusses the multitude of metaphors used to refer to the Holy Spirit by the “robust Trinitarian sensibility” of the Middle Ages. That they, and those used in the Liturgy, should have to be “rediscovered” perhaps says something about the sensibility, and theology, of recent generations or even centuries. I’ve been assembling the rich treasury of metaphors for the Church that St. Augustine employed in his sermons and which he was not content to consider applied to some abstraction but illustrated by reference to the men and women in front of him as he preached.
Fr. Komonchak,
I do hope that you will post more on these metaphors in Augustine, which have come up before.
I hesitate to open this hornets’ nest, but what the heck, it’s the weekend. Is it possible that an overemphasis on critical–that is to say analytic–methods of approaching Scripture have somewhat impoverished the Catholic religious imagination? Have we lost the ruminating, synthesizing approach of lectio divina entirely, at least in serious biblical scholarship?
Metaphors come from seeing the likeness between things, from mentally connecting things, and critical biblical scholarship tends to distinguish and focus.
Mr. Gannon: Jungmann agrees with you about the meaning of “And with your spirit”; but he does cite a text in which Chrysostom interprets it of the Spirit by whose power the priest brings blessings to the people.
The ancient explanations of the rites of the Mass often provide wonderful commentary. The ancient Gallican Lirurgy began with the deacon urging silence upon the people. A seventh-century explanation says that he does this for two reasons: “so that by being quiet the people would hear the Word of God better and so that our hearts may abstain from any unclean thoughts and so receive the Word of God better.”
The priest’s initial greeting and the people’s response is explained in this lovely way: “While the priest blesses the people as he says: ‘The Lord be with you always,’ he is blessed by all as they say, ‘And with your spirit’; so that he may be the more worthy to bless the people the more, by God’s grace, he receives blessing from the mouth of the whole people.
Joseph G.,
I don’t have the scholarship to answer your thought about the Pauline greetings, which is interesting. However, did such a parallel usage compel the 1970′s ICEL to change the wording? Is your consideration sufficient to compel the current ICEL to leave the greeting changed?
My strong preference is to think of the liturgical text as a mine full of meaning. If that’s a fair assesment of the text’s value, isn’t the burden on the translator to offer a compelling reason for changing the words, images, allusions?
***
If you don’t mind my asking, is your objection to the new translation equal to the sum of the individual objections you are raising? If so, I think that it would be enjoyable to go through them one by one, as we have been doing.
But if your objection is a more general theological or ecclesial issue, it might be more productive to talk about that.
Kathy
Actually I have no objection to retaining “and with your spirit”. In fact I prefer it. Keeping the Semitism highlights the Scriptural element and reminds us of our roots. However, and this is important, the proper patteren of stress is not “and WITH your SPIRIT” but rather “AND with YOUR spirit”.
“God is “Who Am,” as well as Emanuel. I do not understand why we should have to choose between being fully engaged in the Eucharistic action and adoring the Eucharist with the latria that Pope Paul VI insisted was due.”
Never said we have to choose! I said the adoration is an extension of the eucharistic action and should remain integrated with it.
“I am he who is” is the Septuagint translation of Exodus 3.14; the Hebrew brings out better the dynamic nature of divine presence: ehyeh asher ehyeh, I shall be (with you) as I shall be (with you) — see John Courney Murray, The Concept of God.
Dynamic equivalence was, explicitly, the translation method of St Jerome, so it is deeply traditional.
For those interested, here is a link to the letter in which St. Jerome defends his principles of translation: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Nicene_and_Post-Nicene_Fathers:_Series_II/Volume_VI/The_Letters_of_St._Jerome/Letter_57
It will take a long time for people to get used to the new phrases, I expect, regardless of whether they are better or worse. In spite of being a long-time fluent English speaker, after living in the US for four years I still find myself saying some of the prayers at Mass in my native language, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you…”, and the “Our Father” in particular. Of course I have them memorized in English as well, but the words still naturally come out in French. Change has a cost!
Translation is rarely a straightforward matter. You may find the following account of Jerome’s translations of Scripture of interest.
J.N.D. Kelly, Jerome pp.162f.
Although in 395 he was to inform Pammachius that Scripture ought to be translated word for word, his guiding principle in practice was that a good translation should express the meaning, not the actual words, of the original. Since idioms of one language could not be reproduced in another, he felt justified in preserving the characteristic elegance of Latin as long as he did not alter the sense. Hence, in the interests of grace and euphony he consistently rearranges in complex groupings the paratactic sentences favoured in Hebrew, and goes to every length to eliminate, by substitution of synonyms, the monotonous but distinctly Hebrew repetition of words and phrases.
What surprises us, however, is that, with these principles and with his reverence for classical models, he never dreamed, apparently, of translating the Bible into the cultivated literary prose of which he was a master without rival among his contemporaries. For all the corrections and embellishments he introduced, the Latin of his new version was essentially that special ‘Christian Latin’, with its strong Hebrew colouring, which as a young man in the desert had repelled him (as it repelled many educated Christians) as barbarous and uncouth. The explanation of this paradox was in large measure practical: he had no wish that his Old Testament should deviate more than absolutely necessary from the style and general tone, indeed from the actual wording, of the familiar version hallowed by centuries of usage. At a more theoretical level he was persuaded , first, that what mattered in Scripture was the content, not the literary form; and, secondly, that, being intended for ordinary folk, it was appropriate that it be expressed in the simple, even crude language which most of the appreciated. Later generations have good reasons to be grateful for Jerome’s decision, for in spite of the inequalities (stylistically, for example, his Pentateuch stands out as supreme, while his Job is about the least satisfactory of the books), his Old Testament raised the vulgar Latinity of Christians to the heights of great literature.
On the mysteries of the translation of Exodus 3:14 I recommend Robert Alter’s note in his translation of Five Books of Moses.
If only the “new” ICEL had studied the history and life of Jerome.
In the essay Fr. Komonchak points to, St. Jerome apparently makes an exception for the translation of Scripture:
In translating from the Greek (except in the case of the holy scriptures where even the order of the words is a mystery) I render sense for sense and not word for word.
What does he mean: “even the order of the words is a mystery?”
Kathy
I suspect that Jerome means to suggest that even the order of words may have some bearing on what is revealed, i.e., actually the sense, in a particular passage. As you know the order of words is rather free in Latin because the inflexions make the syntax clear in the way that word order does in English. Jerome seems to be saying that in translating Scripture he denies himself the freedom to re-order the words for rhetorical and phonic purposes lest some nuance inherent in the original word order be lost. It is worth noting, though, that Jerome has a tendency to hyperbole.
JG,
I agree, I think that is what he means.
Nonetheless, his translation follows the method of dynamic equivalence and he praises it in his predecessors: “Time would fail me were I to unfold the testimonies of all who have translated only according to the sense. It is sufficient for the present to name Hilary the confessor who has turned some homilies on Job and several treatises on the Psalms from Greek into Latin; yet has not bound himself to the drowsiness of the letter or fettered himself by the stale literalism of inadequate culture. Like a conqueror he has led away captive into his own tongue the meaning of his originals.”
“The translators of the Septuagint, the evangelists, and the apostles, have done the same in dealing with the sacred writings. We read in Mark of the Lord saying Talitha cumi and it is immediately added “which is interpreted, Damsel, I say unto thee, arise.” The evangelist may be charged with falsehood for having added the words “I say unto thee” for the Hebrew is only “Damsel arise.” To emphasize this and to give the impression of one calling and commanding he has added “I say unto thee.” … From all these passages it is clear that the apostles and evangelists in translating the old testament scriptures have sought to give the meaning rather than the words, and that they have not greatly cared to preserve forms or constructions, so long as they could make clear the subject to the understanding… In dealing with the scriptures it is the sense we have to look to and not the words.”
All of you have now gotten to the point that was earlier made – ICEL is now demanding that there be a superior and closer translation to the original latin. This is an oxymoron statement given the fact that historically all translations are based on how a translator did his work – usually by conveying the meaning and sense and not a literal word translation.
As you explore Jerome, etc. realize that this whole experience changed with the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, their on-going translation, and now the recent posting online of some of the seminal scripture texts.
So, do we waste time picking and choosing phrases that link to some Middle Age or Early Church translator; do we wait to see what modern exegesis brings us; do we now lay on the people of God another effort at translation when we already know that it is not “The Translation!”
Continued thread – allow me to paraphrase an article by a friend, Rory Cooney, who is a Church composer and music coordinator. His points about liturgical music and its role with the people of God apply also to the language, ritual, and meaning of the liturgy:
Perhaps American music is too frightening: it’s too democratic. The possibility of imaging God through its rhythms and melodies lays a short-fused explosive at the foundation of the institutional European church, a church with many American defenders. Our music doesn’t fit the ecclesiology that’s being crammed down the throat of the church by some of her princely members and their minions whose buttons are pushed by music of the court, music which supports their other-worldly vision of God. Some people in the pew buy into that vision because it’s always easier to worship that kind of a god than one who is so utterly immanent that this God names Self “Emmanuel.” We still want to believe in an “all-powerful” god, rather than one whose clearest image of godliness was kenosis, utterly powerless self-emptying. At the heart of our prejudice are a false doxology that holds up God-King imagery as normative in blatant antithesis to the incarnational/paschal mystery imagery of the 2nd Vatican Council (and Holy Scripture), and a false mysticism which seeks to replace an incarnational spirituality with one manifestation of spirituality: the monastic one.
The task before us remains one of enculturation. For us in the western hemisphere, it means claiming a belief that God’s word to us and our praise of God can be mediated in melodies, harmonies, and rhythms as they developed or were born in our own hemisphere.
The strongest argument I can think of against this manifesto is the need for liturgy to maintain its counter-cultural stance.
This is not, however, my understanding of the way liturgy nurtures transformation. Its mode is parabolic; its argument is by invitation into a new way that is at once radically new and totally familiar. Just as Jesus used banquets, farmers, shepherds, and lilies of the field to teach about the reign of God, liturgy uses the stuff of ordinary life to make a case for the mystical insight of Christ that all are one, that none is outside the encompassing love of God, and that the reign of God is already present with healing, forgiveness, and liberation for the asking. Rather than placing us in a “holy place” beyond where we really live, liturgy tries to help us find that the place of the holy is where we live, in our shared bread, in our reconciliations, in our encounters with each other.
Music, therefore, should participate in this invitation. Rather than trying to create some kind of musical melange that suggests the royal courts of another era or the angelic choirs of jewish mythology, liturgical music should be completely familiar sounding, challenging and beautiful, with its roots in the music of the people of our time. As American, it should celebrate our diverse cultural heritage and our energy.
Bill, thank yo ufor all your fine posts here, but you’re just chomping your gums: Rome has once more spoken…
We all need t ostart running out and buying all the wonderful books that will appear about “dew/”
Or, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang bu ta whimper.
However tempted I am to dispute liturgical music, secondhand, with Rory Cooney, I’m doubtful that I could find any common ground with someone whose Trinitarian theology could be expressed thus:
“One is the Spirit with Maker and Son,
just as the source and the river are one.”
You missed his point – in fact, your response and picking out a phrase from one of his compositions illustrates his points very well.
The new ICEL translations come with Rome’s instructions that these translations may not be paraphrased for any use or reason – image a music composer who does not take liturgical language or scripture and does not paraphrase.
As Catholics, we do not support the literal interpretation of scripture….nor do we ordain one specific liturgical rite or even scriptural translation. But that is what ICEL and Rome are trying to do.
I got his point very well. He’s engaged in a clearing-of-the-decks: severely reducing the Tradition–and the Scriptures–in order to replace them with his own inane ideas. It’s arrogance of the first order and it happens all the time. It happens on the left and right and it’s a huge scandal.
Don’t want to sink to the lowest common denominator but your post uses the exact same descriptive words that I would use for this Rome/ICEL attempt to force these translations onto the english speaking bishops conferences especially “arrogance of the first order and it happens all the time….yes, it is a huge scandal” but then it really is about Power and Authority.
Here is a comment from a respected and noted liturgist in Rome:
A vocal minority of Catholics have expressed unhappiness with those reforms, and some have called for a “reform of the reform,” claiming that the pope himself is sympathetic with their cause. They point to his writings as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger and his subsequent approval of the Latin Mass as Benedict XVI.
What does a seasoned and widely respected liturgical scholar like Father Taft have to say about this debate?
Over against the liturgical nay-sayers, he writes: “I maintain that the Roman Catholic liturgical renewal in the wake of Vatican II was an overwhelming success, returning the liturgy to the people of God to whom it rightly belongs.”
Taft acknowledges, on the one hand, that the reform mandated by the council “was not perfect, because nothing but God is perfect.” He insists, on the other hand, that “it was done as well as was humanly possible at the time, and we owe enormous gratitude and respect to those who had the vision to implement it.”
That said, Taft turns his attention to “what the reform did not do well.” His list, he hastens to add, does not include anything that the “reformers of the reform” want to reverse, such as the celebration of the liturgy in the vernacular, Communion in the hand, Mass facing the people, or the removal of the tabernacle to a sacrament chapel.
He reminds us that the council’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy had a single, central purpose, namely, that the faithful might “be led to that full, conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebration which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy and to which the Christian people…have a right and an obligation by reason of their baptism” (n.14).
To attain this end, the council had to restore the rites “to the vigor they had in the tradition of the Fathers” (n.50). And this, Father Taft points out, is “where the East came in.”
Liturgical pioneers drew inspiration from Russian Orthodox emigrés to France, who had fled from their homeland after the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. These contacts proved crucially important because the Orthodox Church, Taft notes, had preserved the liturgical spirit of the early Church and continued to live by it.
Liturgists in the West, however, did not attempt simply to imitate existing Eastern usage, but interpreted and applied it in the light of the needs of Latin Christianity. And that is why the liturgical movement, which Vatican II essentially validated, was so successful.
But there were things that Vatican II “failed to do well or did not do at all,” Taft writes. He mentions three items: the process of initiation, the Liturgy of the Hours, and Communion from the tabernacle.
He underscores the irony that one of Pope Pius X’s most celebrated and enduring reforms, namely, the lowering of the age of first Holy Communion from adolescence to the age of reason, had the unfortunate effect of shifting the time of first Communion before Confirmation, and in the process making first Confession precede first Communion.
“This destroyed the age-old sequence of the rites of Christian initiation,” Taft insists, and it also transformed the sacrament of Penance, which was originally intended to reconcile grave sinners with the Church, into one of the rites of Christian initiation in the Catholic West.
Taft argues, secondly, that the Liturgy of the Hours, despite its title, “is no liturgy at all, but still a breviary, or book of prayers.” Even in its supposedly reformed state, it remains an essentially private activity of the clergy rather than a prayer of and by the whole Church.
Finally, the distribution of pre-consecrated hosts at Mass was “totally unthinkable in the early Christian East and West…[and] is still inconceivable in any authentic Eastern Christian usage today.” Indeed, “Communion from the tabernacle is like inviting guests to a banquet, then preparing and eating it oneself, while serving one’s guests the leftovers from a previous meal.”
Composers such as Rory Cooney have tried to implement Fr. Taft’s words – “interpreted and applied it to the Latin West and American church”. He has been an active teacher in the North American Forum for Initiation. Can you say the same?
He has been an active teacher in the North American Forum for Initiation. Can you say the same?
Happily, no.
And I really don’t see the connection between Cooney’s new age immanentism with the very respectable analysis of Fr. Taft.
Have no idea where you came up with the “new age immanentism” – Rory is not Tom Fox. Given your strong feelings, I can only add: “it’s hard to figure out why the ad hominem attacks? Who would ever characterize a person’s entire theology of the Trinity by pulling one line from one song? it’s just mean-spiritedness.”
Was hoping someone such as Jim Pauwels might interject some insights here – he is a deacon and musician in the Chicago area and should know Rory Cooney?
Bill,
“There is a mountain, there is a sea,
There is a wind within all breathing.”
If Cooney thinks he’s describing God, that’s new age immanentism.
You presented Cooney as a liturgical authority. I don’t see him that way–and the reason is, his theology is quite mistaken.
You need to read the psalms but then they are probably old age immanentism to you. Would consider him a pastoral liturgist and because of his 25+ years of experience, I would probably give him some authority – he works and consults with Bishop Trautman, previous head of liturgy for the USCCB.
Until you have read his publications; studied his history and degrees (mentors were Foley and Walsh); and actually spent time with him, it is hard to see how you arrive at the statement – “his theology is quite mistaken”. Musical tastes do differ; but to then label his theology as deficient? Well?
Bill,
Perhaps we differ most significantly on the question of “authority.” When I think of what deserves respect, I think of whether something is true. Some (not all) of Cooney’s hymn texts fail this test in a major way. That’s not insignificant, in my opinion. These are texts that people sing in church! They should be, minimally, theologically sound.
Whereas perhaps (based on your last comment) you think that authority can be established based on credentials.
Maybe this is where we differ.
(Just ecclesiastical authority is a separate case, of course.)
Fr. O’Leary,
I’m wondering how to account for St. Jerome’s two (very) different standards for translation, one for himself and one for others. Is it a kind of ambivalence?
Kathy – the sources of church life come from more than just authority. We have scripture, we have theologians, we have the sensus fidelium. Catholic faith has grown via each of these sources of life.
Pastoral musicians have a role to play; so do the people of God; so do theologians (yes, credentials do help as does professional knowledge, study, and documentation – only wish every authority figure was held to the same standards).
The days of just accepting authority because Rome said so are dead – it reveals a faith that is lacking; a fear of adult faith development. You state that some of his hymns are theologically inaccurate – based on your opinion? some conservative bishop? some ETWN priest? If you go through the archives of some pastoral music journals, you will see that there have been many bettles fought over musical compositions and their interpretations. Not unlike Jerome and his standard.
You do realize that Thomas Aquinas was considered a heretic by the church authority figures of his day – that is only one example.
Bill,
I’m really not going to talk about Rory Cooney anymore.
I write hymn texts. When I’ve finished a hymn, if I have any reservations at all about the soundness of its theology, I run it by friends who are trained at least as well as I am in theology (I have an MA in systematics). Even if I’m sure about it, I usually ask people to look it over. If they think anything is misleading, much less, incorrect, I fix it, because in my way of thinking, a single theological error is too much. Better to throw the thing away than risk leading one of the little ones astray.
I also have a habit of critiquing hymn texts. It’s part of my job, and anyway it’s something I would always do for fun. It takes time to do it well, and I regret having critiqued Cooney’s work without showing, carefully, what is wrong. I suppose I thought that a few egregious examples would be enough without spelling things out.
Here is an example of a somewhat more detailed critique I made of one completely different, popular Easter hymn (a different author, Brian Wren). It’s got a swinging beat, and is very popular, but quite wrong. I originally wrote this critique for a seminar that had a hand in the drafting of a new hymnal. In the unlikely event that anyone would want to refer to the original, which is under copyright, I think it can be googled or found in most current hymnals:
Christ Is Alive! A good idea, a problematic hymn
This hymn, while popular, is theologically problematic. In verse 1, the image of an empty cross against the sky is used. Biblically, this image cannot represent the resurrection, because the cross was already “empty” on Good Friday evening, when the Lord was dead. The empty tomb is the biblical symbol of the resurrection, not the empty cross. Poetically there is a problem as well: the usual reworking of the fourth line “His love in death shall never die” is not a clear English expression. In verse 2, the implication is that there was a time when Christ was “bound to distant years in Palestine.” But that implies that the Trinity was deficient during the time of the earthly life of Jesus, which cannot be correct. Verse 3 implies that God was remote from His people until the resurrection. But this is not true for many reasons: first, God’s holiness was a holiness of presence and intimacy with the Hebrew community. Secondly, I John connects the tangibility of Jesus with the Incarnation, not the resurrection. In verse 4, the idea of the Risen Christ suffering is at the very least controversial.
Although it’s good to connect the Resurrection with its implications in daily life, this song fails to do that quite correctly.
By way of contrast, here is a critique of a hymn that I do not think is impossibly bad, but which seems to get the message of the Transfiguration so wrong that I would suggest not using it, for pastoral reasons–despite its considerable poetic merits. I don’t think it’s egregiously misleading theology, but rather lame spirituality, much like a mediocre-but-not-heretical homily. (It is also a fun hymn to sing.) My contentions in this case are fully arguable, and if I were visiting a parish and they sang this hymn, I would sing along. Whereas I would not sing Christ is Alive.
A Hymn That Has Its Ups and Downs
At Mass today we sang, as many churches do on Transfiguration Sunday, the hymn ‘Tis Good Lord to Be Here, by Joseph Armitage Robinson.
’Tis good, Lord, to be here,
Thy glory fills the night;
Thy face and garments, like the sun,
Shine with unborrowed light.
’Tis good, Lord, to be here,
Thy beauty to behold
Where Moses and Elijah stand,
Thy messengers of old.
Fulfiller of the past,
Promise of things to be,
We hail Thy body glorified
And our redemption see.
Before we taste of death,
We see Thy kingdom come;
We fain would hold the vision bright
And make this hill our home.
’Tis good, Lord, to be here.
Yet we may not remain;
But since Thou bidst us leave the mount,
Come with us to the plain.
That’s a mighty lyric. Not only is it deeply expressive of the mystery of the day, but it is also remarkable poetry. Note the pleasant vowel sounds, the long vowels at the end of verses, and the steady use of the l-sound throughout, in the most significant words. Plus the fresh, brief litany: Fulfiller of the past! Promise of things to be! The poetry is vigourous and confident, and very satisfying to the ear and mind.
Unfortunately, however, the hymn is all wrong.
First, as a hymn, it is inside-out. Hymns grow to a height. No matter what has happened–even in the Gospel–there is more to come, and hymns must always celebrate the “more.” Hymns end at their highest point. Contrariwise, this hymn takes for its model the “topography” (if you will) of the story itself, isolated from its fulfillment. The hymn walks a mountain up, then down. The “high” point of the story is the Father’s voice, at which the apostles fall down; the high point of the hymn is the third verse, in which Christ is recognized for Who He is and the soteriological implications of His identity are evident. Then both story and hymn go down the mountain–as the hymn says, “to the plain.”
St. Paul says “If our hopes in Christ are limited to this life only, we are the most pitiable of men.” [Broad sense of "men," of course.] Even with the presence of Christ intensely with us “on the plain,” if we are living for the life of the plain, we are living for the futility of a life that will end. But a hymn must point forward into eternity.
Even more problematic, but in a similar way, is the refrain of the hymn: “‘Tis good, Lord, to be here.” This should never have been said in the first place. It was a typical blunder of St. Peter’s to want to halt the Lord’s saving action by holding too tightly to penultimate moments of glory. The Transfiguration is not the “high” point of the Gospel–the high point so far is the Paschal Mystery, which has not even now been fulfilled. When it is fulfilled, then it will be time to rest in our booths. But not now. Nor is it for us to go to the plain as though that is the real life. We must press on in real but hidden glory to the Resurrection and beyond. It was not a lasting “good” to be on the mountain–and in any case, “we” are not there. Peter, James and John, as apostolic witnesses, were there. We are already heirs to the fulfilled promise of their vision, the Resurrection. And our hope lies in this promise’s new fulfillment in the age to come.
This is why the far lesser poem O Wondrous Type, O Vision Fair is the far better hymn.
O wondrous type! O vision fair
of glory that the Church may share,
which Christ upon the mountain shows
,where brighter than the sun he glows!
The law and prophets there have place,
the chosen witnesses of grace;
the Father’s voice from our the cloud
proclaims his only Son aloud.
With shining face and bright array,
Christ deigns to manifest today
what glory shall be theirs above
who joy in God with perfect love.
And faithful hearts are raised on high
by this great vision’s mystery;
for which in joyful strains we raise
the voice of prayer, the hymns of praise.
O Father, with the eternal Son,
and Holy Spirit, ever One,
vouchsafe to bring us by thy grace
to see thy glory face to face.
Words: Latin, fifteenth century; trans. Hymns Ancient & Modern, 1861
Kathy, you are being captious. There is nothing wrong with using “It is good for us to be here” as a meditation text, and I do not think the evangelists necessarily see it as a blunder of Peter. Nothing in the hymn you criticize suggests that the author would limit our hope in Christ to this life only. As for “One is the Spirit with Maker and Son, just as the source and the river are one,” this is the language used by Gregory of Nyssa, who is possibly the author of the Niceo-Constantinopolitan Creed — how orthodox can you get!
Fr. O’Leary,
Are you sure you mean Gregory of Nyssa, or are you perhaps thinking of Tertullian? It would help if you could provide a citation.
As I made clear in my last comment, I do not think that Tis Good, Lord, to Be Here is heretical or deeply problematic–my main problem is that it ends flat. Instead of spurring us on to the heights of God, it limits our existence to “the plain.” What a way to end a hymn.
Hymns are not like other literature. If I give a lecture or write an article, those are my words and my responsibility. But hymns are written to give voice to shared religious sentiments. The beliefs expressed should be shared beliefs. Other Christians will sing them, in common, in worship to God.
Kathy,
Maybe you will learn this when the bishops catechize on “gibbet”, but I’ll clue you in now.
The cross was used to humiliate as well a kill, as an example to all who might commit a similar crime. Death often took days, during which people would see the suffering criminal and have opportunities to taunt and revile him.
An empty cross signals the end of that humiliation and repudiation. It differs from the empty tomb, with its own distinct meaning.
One of the blessings of art is that it runs ahead of dogmatics and systematic theology, giving expression to things theologians have not dreamt yet. It pushes and pulls, which can be quit uncomfortable but very neccesary.
(the highpoint of the Transfiguration is the healing of the boy on the plain, imo)
Jim,
There are many examples in the Scriptures of the incorporation of hymns. Those are indeed cases in which art runs ahead of dogmatics and systematic theology, and in fact draws them after.
None of which dispenses us from responsibility for discernment.
Kathy – thanks for providing the documentation and detail. I know that every composition of Rory’s goes through a process with his various publishers.
On your earlier comments about magesterium and authority – would recommend that you check out a 20 yr. old book – Vatican Authority and American Catholic Dissent. Fr. K has a chapter in this book whose editor is William May. Basically – issue is that we respect the magesterium and tradition but the magesterium needs to consider:
a) reception by the church;
b) credibility gap – just using your authority without foundation or reasons does more harm than good e.g. JPII announcing that the question of women’s roles has been asked and answered so end of discussion?
c) magesterium can be wrong – the apostolic tradition ensures the truth of the church but within that magesterium there can be errors;
d) agree completely with Jim’s comments that pastoral music, etc. happens and leads long before theology, dogmatics, magesterium have had time to consider, reflect, and make statements.
Bill,
I usually blog under the name Ephrem, in honor of St. Ephrem the Syrian. This is what the Holy Father said about St. Ephrem a few months ago:
The figure of Ephrem is still absolutely timely for the life of the various Christian Churches. We discover him in the first place as a theologian who reflects poetically, on the basis of Holy Scripture, on the mystery of man’s redemption brought about by Christ, the Word of God incarnate. His is a theological reflection expressed in images and symbols taken from nature, daily life and the Bible. Ephrem gives his poetry and liturgical hymns a didactic and catechetical genre: they are theological hymns yet at the same time suitable for recitation or liturgical song. On the occasion of liturgical feasts, Ephrem made use of these hymns to spread Church doctrine. Time has proven them to be an extremely effective catechetical instrument for the Christian community. More: http://www.zenit.org/article-21138?l=english
Hymns are theology and poetry and they are useful for catechesis. Sometimes they are useful for refutation:
12. It is indeed fitting to honor the blessed deacon of Edessa for his desire that the preaching of the divine word and the training of his disciples rest on the purity of Sacred Scripture. He also acquired honor as a Christian musician and poet. He was so accomplished in both arts that he was called the “lyre of the Holy Spirit.” From this, Venerable Brothers, you can learn what arts promote the knowledge of sacred things. Ephrem lived among people whose nature was attracted by the sweetness of poetry and music. The heretics of the second century after Christ used these same allurements to skillfully disseminate their errors. Therefore Ephrem, like youthful David killing the giant Goliath with his own sword, opposed art with art and clothed Catholic doctrine in melody and rhythm. These he diligently taught to boys and girls, so that eventually all the people learned them. In this fashion he not only renewed the education of the faithful in Christian doctrine and supported their piety with the spirit of the sacred liturgy, but also happily kept creeping heresy at bay. (Pope Benedict XV, in his encyclical naming Ephrem as a Doctor of the Universal Church)
Bill, in this comment above I’ve mentioned 2 instances of the Ordinary Magisterium and an instance of a poet/ theologian who wrote with orthodoxy in mind, who is celebrated from east to west almost 2 millennia after his death. This is what Church teaching is–not something oppressive and evil but something wondrous. I don’t understand your mistrust.
Just want to say how gratifying that this post has exceeded 100 entries, many by the same folk, some of whom pervceive themselves as “expert” and call those they disagree with as “arrogant.”
Maybe we should transfer this thread back to teh one on polarization….
Kathy,
Tertullian is orthodox in Trinitarian matters, so his use of the image is a good warrant of its orthodoxy. I can’t find references for its orthodox fourth century use but here is a close analogy (lamp, light, warmth rather than source, spring, water) from Myssa ad Simplicium:
And for this reason also Paul calls Him the brightness of glory Hebrews 1:3, that we may learn that as the light from the lamp is of the nature of that which sheds the brightness, and is united with it (for as soon as the lamp appears the light that comes from it shines out simultaneously), so in this place the Apostle would have us consider both that the Son is of the Father, and that the Father is never without the Son; for it is impossible that glory should be without radiance, as it is impossible that the lamp should be without brightness. But it is clear that as His being brightness is a testimony to His being in relation with the glory (for if the glory did not exist, the brightness shed from it would not exist), so, to say that the brightness once was not is a declaration that the glory also was not, when the brightness was not; for it is impossible that the glory should be without the brightness
Basically, G Nyssa is more strictly monotheistical than most contemporary trinitarian speculators.
As to the hymn, it hymn ends flat because the Transfiguration story ends like that in the Gospels — we come down from the mountain and set off for Jerusalem.
Basil ep 38, which some take to be by Nyssa, compares Father and Son to the body and its shape, stressing the continuity between the hypostases very strongly (discussing Heb 1):
For just as a body exists altogether in form, but the principle of the form is different than that of the body, and no one in giving a definition of the one would join it together with the definition of the other (with the exception that even if conceptually you separate form and body, nature does not admit of the separation, but the one is [always] thought of with the other), thus does the apostle believe it necessary–even though the doctrine of faith teaches the unconfused and distinct separation of the hypostases–to set forth through the words just mentioned the continuity and, as it were, congenital unity between the Only-begotten and the Father. He does not [say this] as if the Only-begotten did not also exist in an hypostasis, but in order that no interspace be admitted into His oneness with the Father, so that he who gazes with the eyes of his soul upon the figure of the Only-begotten, in so doing perceives the hypostasis of the Father…
Fr. O’Leary,
I didn’t think it was Gregory. The Cappadocians were carefully parsing out what the Trinity is, and what it is not. They wouldn’t think it was their business to give very vague and general comparisons to the natural world.
Another biblical reference for dew is the fleece of Gideon:
Gideon said to God, “If indeed you are going to save Israel through me, as you promised, I am putting this woolen fleece on the threshing floor. If dew comes on the fleece alone, while all the ground is dry, I shall know that you will save Israel through me, as you promised.”
That is what took place. Early the next morning he wrung the dew from the fleece, squeezing out of it a bowlful of water. (Judges 6:36-38)
This image came my way through a young friend’s college thesis, in which she compares the manners in which the imagination appropriates visual religious art and hymns. As examples she looks at the Koelner Madonna and the Melker Marienleid (11th or 12th c. German). I don’t have enough modern German to know if this is intelligible to those who do:
Gedeon, dux Israel, nider spræit er ein lamphel,
daz himeltou die wolle betouwete almitalle:
alsô chom dir diu magenchraft, daz du wurde berehaft,
Sancta Maria.
Here’s a translation into modern German:
Gideon, der Führer Israels, breitete ein Lammfell auf der Erde aus.
Der Himmelstau betaute die Wolle ganz und gar,
ebenso kam die Majestat [Gottes] über dich, so daß du schwanger wurdest,
heilige Maria.
http://www.german.sbc.edu/melkermarienlied.html
Bob – thanks for your comments and if I used the term “arrogant”, I apologize. I did choose to deliberately use that term to describe Rome & the ICEL and this whole project.
Kathy – you asked why I mistrust. Thought about a response without making it too personal so allow me to ask these rhetorical questions:
a) have you ever gone toe to toe with Rome and the CDF or the dicastery for clerics?
b) have you ever had to appear before the bishop and chancellor because one of your talks, prresentations, etc. were reported by a vocal conservative from EWTN or CUF, etc. even though your material was completely “orthodox” and defend yourself;
c) have you ever been questionned in a public forum and accused of being a heretic?
d) have you ever spent time serving in a third world nation and seeing the church and its people in the third world while listening to the constant Curial prattle and announcements that have nothing to do with reality?
e) have you ever been threatened with interdict or had ministerial roles taken from you because you made a life decision following your conscience – possibly after years of struggle?
f) have you worked in a seminary where you have dealt with sex abuse, inappropriate faculty and student behaviors, dealt with sponsoring bishops who are told that ordination candidates are not sexually or emotionally mature and yet the bishop ordains anyway because he needs the help knowing that there will be a price to pay for this;
g) have you worked with a victim and their family because of a priest pedophile?
h) have you spent time with a priest pedophile and listened to their story?
i) have you spent time studying and reading if not talking to those who have taken principled stands of dissent and have paid a public price, been silenced, and not afforded due process, lost jobs, and put their family finances in jeopardy?
j) have you seen the people of God’s contributions wasted on clerical lifestyles that exceed the average middle class person? have you seen these same funds misappropriated with no reprecussions?
k) do you have family members who constantly question why you remain Catholic given all of the above?
Bill,
These are obviously significant questions. Let me think about this for awhile.
Bill,
It’s interesting to me that you and I should be talking this way, because my scars, and those of my friends, are quite the opposite but also serious. The difficulties we have known have happened because, according to our best lights, we have tried to follow Church teaching. In my own case–apart from job and school situations made intensely, almost impossibly stressful because of bosses or professors with liberal agendas–the most painful situation is vocational. That’s a long story, but suffice it to say that I would be a fully professed Religious of more than a decade if I had been willing in my younger days to pretend to be turned on by new age practices.
Friends have had similar experiences. Most commonly, guys have been dismissed from the seminary because they thought exactly as the catechism does (with its considerable nuance) about homosexuality. They weren’t violent or hateful but they were not progressive.
Currently in the American Church there is a lot of power held by progressives. This is waning but is still strongly the case. All it takes for a naive young person to get blocked in a vocational or career path is to ring the radar of one angry nun or priest or lay person on the diocesan vocations board–and that’s it. What happens next is a meeting at which “concerns” are voiced. That is, pressure is exerted on the candidate to change. As most people who have been around the block a few times know, this is already the kiss of death–an official warning is little more than a prelude to dismissal. The die is cast and he might as well go seek greener pastures. But naive young people have not been around the block. So the young priestly candidate spends the next semester with the sword of Damocles over his head, unable to study or pray, with this overriding troubling dilemma eating away his vitals: how can I follow God in my vocation by obeying these people who are demanding that I be untrue to God?
He tries to thread the needle but it’s impossible and makes him a nervous wreck–a condition that may last for years in the best cases. By the time he recovers, if he recovers, his youth is gone.
That is not a rare story. A very common reason to get yourself discerned out of priestly or religious formation, for the last several decades, has been “rigidity,” which need not mean more than believing the whole Catholic code on faith and morals. If people find out that this is what you really think, you’re very likely in many places to tick off somebody and go through the above mentioned excruciating winnowing process.
Therefore the current struggle, it seems to me, is not between authoritarianism and freedom. I’ve mentioned this story before: one of the many charming things that Cardinal Kasper said during the Q and A of his Common Ground lecture went something like this: “I don’t know if you have this problem in America, but it is the case in Germany that when there is no respect for the Magisterium, there are many individual magisteria all around.” This has been my experience, and it’s a chaotic and unhappy thing. People with their own ideas on the right and left make their own rules and their own criteria, and they often exercise them with religious authority. So on a purely human level, compared to the often politically calculating, sometimes brutally excessive uses of authority that I have seen locally, I’m actually more inclined to trust the more distant emperor. Hopefully that is not the heart of my preference for the universality of the Church over the national, which in theological terms seems to me to be no contest at all, but in my affections these experiences certainly enter in.
I would mention one exceptional situation in which I experienced respect and courtesy, encouragement and thoughtful help from a relatively liberal person (I hope that is an accurate expression) with plenty of authority and reasons to disagree with me– a seminar course on the Ecclesiology of Vatican II taught by Fr. Komonchak. When he speaks about freedom and the merits of thought, I know from personal experience that he means what he says.
At this point in the conversation St. Raymond of Penyafort’s words come to my mind:
The preacher of God’s truth has told us that all who want to live righteously in Christ will suffer persecution. If he spoke the truth and did not lie, the only exception to this general statement is, I think, the person who either neglects, or does not know how, to live temperately, justly and righteously in this world.
May you never be numbered among those whose house is peaceful, quiet and free from care; those on whom the Lord’s chastisement does not descend; those who live out their days in prosperity, and in the twinkling of an eye will go down to hell.
Your purity of life, your devotion deserve and call for a reward; because you are acceptable and pleasing to God, your purity of life must be made purer still, by frequent buffetings, until you attain perfect sincerity of heart. If from time to time you feel the sword falling on you with double or treble force, this also should be seen as sheer joy and the mark of love.
The two-edged sword consists in conflict without, fears within. It falls with double or treble force within, when the cunning spirit troubles the depths of your heart with guile and enticements. You have learned enough already about these kinds of warfare, or you would not have been able to enjoy peace and interior tranquility in all its beauty.
The sword falls with double and treble force externally when, without cause being given, there breaks out from within the Church persecution in spiritual matters, where wounds are more serious, especially when inflicted by friends.
This is that enviable and blessed cross of Christ, which Andrew, that manly saint, received with joyful heart; the cross in which alone we must make our boast, as Paul, God’s chosen instrument, has told us.
Look then on Jesus, the author and preserver of faith: in complete sinlessness he suffered, and at the hands of those who were his own, and was numbered among the wicked. As you drink the cup of the Lord Jesus (how glorious it is!) give thanks to the Lord, the giver of all blessings.
May the God of love and peace set your hearts at rest and speed you on your journey; may he meanwhile shelter you from disturbance by others in the hidden recesses of his love, until he brings you at last into that place of complete plentitude where you will repose for ever in the vision of peace, in the security of trust and in the restful enjoyment of his riches.
Given the back and forth between the two of us and our own personal histories, I think we have tested and proven the earlier blog on polarization. In my younger years I had inpatient dreams and expected folks to greet change and newness with excitement. Instead, I experienced apathy, self-interest, status quo, internal politics, acting out behaviors, etc. and in too many cases this was reinforced our supported by various ideological groups/persons – some who were in authority…..appears you had the same experience but for different reasons. Given this, I have tried to shift my focus to those organizations that stress the common ground within the church and society. I admired Jospeh Cardinal Bernandin and his efforts to move this forward; I lost respect for O’Connor, Mahoney, and Law who derided these efforts.
I am saddened because too much of our leadership is ideological (conservative or liberal), single issue, self-interest driven, career oriented, self-promotional, etc. Too many bishops have little to no pastoral experience (they were elevated because their education was in Rome; they know important, key folks; they had administrative skills.)
For me, pastoral means that you strive to enkindle the Mercy of God not the wrath of god. You do not focus simplistically on orthodoxy (even if it is affirmative orthodoxy per John Allen). A few quotes that best express my feelings:
a) “Certain forms of prestige, certain titles or insignia, a certain protocol, certain ways of life and dress, an abstract and pompous vocabulary are all structures that isolate us, just as there are structures that humiliate and degrade…This means we are in fact no longer able to meet folks on the ground where they are most themselves, where they express themselves freely, experience their most real sorrows and joys, face their true problems. We are in danger of living in their mist, separated from them by a haze of fiction.”
Yves Congar 1964;
b) If the Church is in need of continual reform she is in need of continual criticism.
Archbishop John Quinn
c) “The Church has refused to leave its feudal past, its monarchical bearings and reach out to listen to what the People of God (the so-called sanior pars) is saying. Catholics want to be personally convinced before they commit themselves to the Church’s official teaching…Catholics believing in God’s revealing word embrace the Church’s teaching only when they are inwardly persuaded by the Spirit dwelling in their own reflections.”
Gregory Baum
This is what I mean by common ground and what a pastoral leader (be he pastor, bishop, cardinal, or pope) tries to do in the communion of his parish, diocese, region, or world.
Bill,
Thanks for continuing this thread–I’m glad for the opportunity to speak about these things.
There is probably a generation gap in these matters. But it seems to me that there are two other imbalances between these two kinds of grievances:
1) People who find themselves continually disappointed with the slowness of change sometimes believe in what I take to be a misinterpretation of the Second Vatican Council: they think that the documents make “compromises” or “concessions” with conservatives, and that these compromises were not under the guidance of the Holy Spirit but were (merely) political. The REAL Conciliar teaching was progressive. I think that this mode of reception of the Council, with many nuances, of course, is still commonly held by many people in the sort of middle-management tier in the American church and other national churches. If I’m correct in thinking that this theory is theologically untenable–the Holy Spirit guides specifically the documents–then we have a lot of leaders making serious decisions under misguiding principles.
2) With the exception of the perennial problem of clerical lifestyles and ambition, which you mentioned, and the scandalous tragedy of pedophilia, the other painful situations you’ve mentioned happen when magisterial teaching and personal conscience clash. I can see that this would be a bewildering situation but my own sense is that in such a situation, the best response is submission–the course taken by Father Dupuis, and Cardinals Congar and de Lubac. On the other hand, the situations I mentioned arise when a legitimate authority rejects or openly defies magisterial teaching–then what is the subject of obedience supposed to do?
Allow me to end with a few suggestions:
a) here is a quote from B16 about dissent although he does not detail the result or whether one dissents and submits: Disagreement with the Magisterium may indeed render a service to the Church, a Church which Joseph Ratzinger, now Benedict XVl said needs “not adulators to extol the status quo but folks whose humility and obedience are no less than their passion for truth; who brave every misunderstanding and attack as they bear witness; who, in a word love the Church more than ease and the unruffled course of their personal destiny.”
b) agree that Vatican II was a reform and in some cases a dramatic break from the previous Trent/Vatican I decisions. My opinion is that many in middle management are uneducated about church history, history of dogma, or have ever read about the personalities, issues, and struggles that pre & post dated both Trent and Vatican I….so, yes, we have leaders that are making serious decisions under dubious principles;
c) finally, if you are truly pursuing music composition, writing critiques, and trying to make sure that these are theological correct, please do not forget the liturgical principles that folks want liturgy to inspire, emote, and be familiar to them. Most church faith is based on the local church and we have quite a variety around the world – no size fits all; we are a big tent. Was in west Texas recently at my grandparents church – german catholic community of farmers since the 1870′s. So, they sing “We Walk by Faith” by Marty Haugen at the Preparation Rite and “How Great Thou Art” at Communion. Personally, I like Haugen but the other grates on my nerves. But, I watched my grandparents, my uncles and aunts and even some of my cousins belt out How Great Thou Art and realized that this is where they are – full, active participation in their liturgy. So, your task is difficult.
d) I would also suggest that you go to the composer to get his thoughts, theology, and reasoning behind a composition….realize that composers change; some music is now over 25 years old. See this link: interview with Dan Schutte on We are Near
I left off the link, sorry: Shortcut to: http://catholicsensibility.wordpress.com/2008/08/14/you-are-near/
Bill,
Just a couple of notes. If congregations have been singing hymns vigorously for 2 1/2 decades, blog retractions are too little, too late. Something in the system needs to be changed. It’s time to change the system.
God bless.