Assisi Alive!
After attending the gathering of about 600 Catholic theological ethicists from all around the world in Trento, (see Cathy K’s excellent post below,) I stayed in Italy to rattle around and do the tourist thing a bit. Thus far, post Trento, I admit the whole Church scene in Italy depressed me no end. I resist being charged admission to enter a church–don’t churches belong to the people of God? Charging admission underscores the sense that what happens in these buildings is a relic of a bygone era.
The two liturgies I attended were scandalously bad. In one city vespers in the Cathedral done carelessly, with no more reverence than one might expend when one flosses. They clearly don’t bother to practice. In a stunningly beautiful church, can’t the guys even PRETEND they want to be there, or that what they’re doing is important? What a missed opportunity to show off another of the Church’s treasures. And this is the cathedral–imagine what it’s like out on the hustings!
In another city, I ducked into a daily Mass. The presider led us quickly and tonelessly through vespers, then flowed seamlessly into an expressionless Eucharistic prayer. Never once made eye contact with anyone in the tiny, mostly elderly, almost all female congregation. Didn’t bother to preach, of course–that might have revealed engagement with what was going on. At the sign of peace, didn’t deign to greet anyone, and got going again as quick as he could. While he went on with the prayer, a little girl, about 6 or 7, walked around the entire chapel, shaking hands and smiling at every person in the place, maybe a dozen of us. God bless her–she was grace that day. The priest dispensed Eucharist mechanically, then dashed to the sacristy without a personal word. No wonder so few bother to attend. Might as well deconsecrate the joint and sell it to someone who cares about it, even if only for the art and the history, instead of pretending it’s a living church.
Ah, but today I find myself in Assisi. The Holy Spirit is alive here still, thanks to the little layman who preached to the birds. Walked into the basilica of St. Francis for free, where a lively, guitar-accompanied Mass was just wrapping up, (the congregation was singing!) and then joined the silent procession down past the saint’s tomb. Young people escaping the rain duck into alleyways and sing. Tourists snap photos–and then they pray. Yes, yes, there are all the tourist-trap appurtenances here that were present in the other churches–but God is here too. It remains a holy place. Thank you Francis. Thank you Clare.
Lisa Fullam’s comment about vespers in an Italian cathedral she kindly left unnamed reminded me of vespers at the Duomo in Florence. If I recall correctly, the year was 1982. An unforgettably bad experience there as well.
Lisa, your observations may have some connection to the latest from Sandro Magister:
Also just back from Italy (still adjusting with great difficulty to wine-less lunches) and had a different and better Sunday experience. In the town of Montegiove (pop. 93) in Umbria, the noon “mass” was led by a deacon who came up in a station wagon from a neighboring town. About 35 in attendance in the tiny church, mostly women but also some handfuls of children and young adults. The deacon spent the ten minutes before noon visiting with people in the pews and teaching a couple of children how to sing one of the day’s hymns. He vested during the opening hymn (unaccompanied, but strong singing from everyone) and led the liturgy straightforwardly but not at all mechanically or anonymously. The windows were open on a hot day, and the hilltop breezes were very much a part of the liturgy. So two cheers for this little church, anyway — and for deacons, of course.
Tes …Francis /Clare live… My Assisi memory was having a cappachino with my wife on the sidewalk table outside our hotel in the main piazza of Assisi. She left her purse on the table and 10 minutes later I ran down to see table cleared. The desk clerk saw my concern and asked was I looking for a purse. and yes he handed it to me intact with money and passport, It was brought in by a passerby..
Now if this was Rome and the purse was returned at least three cardinals could be canonized with such a stunning miracle. (-:
To: Patrick Brennan (brennan@law.villanova.edu)
Subject: Lisa Fullam’s “Assisi Alive!” and Your Post “eye contact”
Professor Brennan:
I don’t ever remember using the word dyspeptic before, but it is one of a number of words — uncharitable would be one of the others — I would use to describe your personal attack (“eye contact”) on Lisa Fullam for her blog entry on dotCommonweal titled “Assisi Alive!”
Why you chose to post something of this nature on Mirror of Justice I can’t imagine. You might consider raising your points of disagreement with Lisa Fullam on dotCommonweal itself, but if so, I hope it will be without the condescension you exhibit on Mirror of Justice.
[Copy posted to dotCommonweal]
“Uncalled for” is another understatement I might apply to that post, David. I know there’s nothing like a difference over liturgical aesthetics to bring out the personal attacks, but is that sort of thing typical of Mirror of Justice? I thought they were a law blog.
Mollie,
I would say it is not at all typical of Mirror of Justice, which is why I wrote my message. All the contributors are Catholic lawyers, and the posts are generally about the law. It is a very interesting site, and there is a diversity of views. Not being a lawyer, I find that some discussions are over my head, but I would recommend the site to anyone who is interested in reading Catholic views on legal issues.
I believe I understand the principle of ex opere operato, but a bored, or distracted, or uninvolved priest saying mass or administering the sacraments is neglecting or even undermining the symbolic aspects of whatever ritual he is performing. If it is acceptable for the Eucharist to be distributed mechanically, why not relieve priests of this duty and using modified ATMs?
Professor Brennan was kind enough to respond to me privately, which I appreciate. He has also written another post on Mirror of Justice in response to correspondence he has received. At one point he says:
He also says:
If Lisa Fullam had named the church and seriously called for it to be closed down, I might concede that Professor Brennan had a point. But in reality she made a wry remark (“might as well deconsecrate the joint and sell it to someone who cares about it”) about an unnamed church in an unnamed city based on her experience at one mass. Professor Brennan accuses her of something she did not, in fact, do — call for the shuttering of a parish because she did not like it there.
No, not typical, David. But typical of his posts, and he’s been on a tear of late. Why, look, just now he’s posted a response to the response he got to that ugly little post:
http://mirrorofjustice.blogs.com/mirrorofjustice/2010/08/shutter-the-parish-because-the-visitor-doesnt-like-it-there.html
The man keeps asserting that Lisa expressed a desire for the church to be closed–now he ups the ante rather flamboyantly by claiming she wants “the [parish] community itself thus put into diaspora.” She said no such thing. Lisa wrote that the unnamed church “might as well” be closed if its liturgies are so lifeless. You’d think that a full professor with an endowed chair would have better reading comprehension skills.
Apparently he thinks Lisa sinned against the community of worshipers (actually she criticized the presider) by being too flippant in her critique. And, he reminds us that, as Jesus taught, “turnabout is fair play.” Is it, now? Is he a member of this community he imagines Lisa insulted and called to be disbanded? Or, as he puts it, her “victims.” No. But he sure likes Europe.
In all of my trips to Italy I have learned that the salvation of my soul is directly dependant on NOT attending any masses there. And that includes those in the Big 4 basilicae.
PS – I love dyspeptic — and dipsomaniacal, too.
Just being in Italy felt like a retreat to me. I remember the Masses I attended pretty fondly, but it probably helps that I went in with no idea what to expect. And I know so little Italian that I kept busy just trying to figure out what the readings were about!
I’ll put in a good word for the Duomo in Florence, where I went to Sunday Mass three times on two different trips and always had a good experience. The first time I went there I was hoping for high-Mass splendor (I do have a weakness for smells and bells, at least now and then), and I didn’t find that at all, it’s true. The music was (rather poor) a cappella chanting by a handful of priests, and the liturgy was largely in Latin, which disappointed me, because I’d finally found an Italian Mass guide to help me follow along. Obviously I can’t tell you whether the homily was good or not.
All that said, I remember the whole thing very fondly, because of the conscious effort on the part of the clergy to welcome the people who came, bring us closer to the altar, involve us in the celebration. There was one priest in particular who came out before Mass started and asked those of us gathered to please come forward and take a seat closer to the altar (in the choir, basically, instead of behind the rail). His English wasn’t fluent, but he got the message across with broad gestures and a very warm smile. So we did, and we ended up sitting just next to the credence table. The proximity, both to the altar and to the other worshipers, made up for the alienation I felt not speaking the language.
I went back to Florence three years later and went to that same Mass, and the very same priest came out and welcomed us all in the very same way. This time he came over to my parents and me and asked us where we were from, and told us a story (broken English and all) about the time he visited New York in the 1960s. Then he asked my husband and me to help take up the collection! Fortunately we didn’t need to know Italian for that.
I went back to the Duomo the following weekend, but this time for Mass in English. It was celebrated at a side altar, and it was very well attended by a lot of young people (visiting college students, I assume). Again, people in the congregation were asked to help with the Mass. I remember one girl, who had apparently arrived wearing unacceptably short shorts, taking up the collection with one of those papery shawls tied around her waist.
While I’m at it, I also thought the printed material for tourists at the Duomo, the Baptistry, and the museum was terrific — it did a good job explaining the religious significance of everything as well as the artistic/historical significance. They really worked to make the visitor aware that the church was an active place of worship, not just a Renaissance relic.
I can imagine that the liturgy of the theological ethicists of Trent might be scary to those accustomed to the impersonal patterns here described as depressing. It would be revealing if we could perform an experiment: let an anthropologist elicit from the benighted souls, priests and laity alike, what they might observe in the rites of the Trent conference. I believe their reaction might even be more tolerant and understanding than this report above on the behavior away from the avant-garde.
In that report it’s easy to hear echoes of the type of 19th century Protestant American observations of Catholic rites in Europe to be found in the works of Henry Adams, Henry James, or Mark Twain. Francis Parkman, the historian and Boston Brahmin, reassured his parents that when he stayed in Italian monasteries he always brought along anti-Catholic books lest he succumb to any temptation. Perhaps our modern ethicists should bring the most current theological publications to ward off depression when they encounter not just Italy but Italians. But I believe most tourists suffer from confirmation bias – they see what they want to see.
Actually, Mr. Molloy, the principal liturgy at Trent was presided over by the Archbishop of Trent, Luigi Bressan. What were you implying?
But thank you for bringing your comments here.
My Italian being rudimentary, my ability to appreciate liturgy rested more heavily on secondary factors–was there a warm greeting? Did the presider speak with any expression? Who’s present at the liturgy (demographically–e.g., are there young people?) Does the congregation participate (see the Vatican II norms for that, please,) and if not, have they been invited to do so by easy access of materials? Is anyone apparently happy to be there?
I’m from New England, where being emotionally buttoned-down is a proud part of our heritage. This is Italy, for heaven’s sake. If a priest says the words which he (presumably) believes to mediate an encounter with the Risen Christ present not only in the Eucharistic elements but also in the gathered people of God, but sounds less interested than a subway operator announcing the next stop, well, isn’t that problematic? Was at a Mass more solemn in tone yesterday, also in Assisi. The presider spoke the words of institution soberly, but carefully and with reverence.
I’m also interested in who’s not present, and why. Vespers at a cathedral is, as I said, a great opportunity to show off a treasure of the Church, in all its traditional splendor. And to do so surrounds by masterpieces celebrating that tradition, well, it doesn’t get much better than that. As I said–a tremendous missed opportunity, and no wonder only very sparsely attended. As church attendance and interest continues to slide…
If only the representatives of the church in such places cared as much as the advertisers on the local media do about their wares! The people of God deserve better, I think.
I’m both Italian (a native speaker) and from New England (raised) and find Professor Fullam’s latest comment indefensible. The suggestion that Italian Catholics — because “[t]his is Italy, for heaven’s sake” — ought to be more effusive and gregarious and “welcom[ing],” than other Catholics (than New England “buttoned-down” Catholics, perhaps?) is as ridiculous as it is offensive. Italy doesn’t need your culturo-religious makeover. If you don’t care for the ways of the Italian religious, and would prefer that they hock their wares like the “local media” (and what local media are you referring to — I thought you didn’t speak Italian?) — don’t let the door hit you on the way out.
So, that’s an overreaction. Let’s not let it become a trend. Disagree respectfully, please, or just take a few deep breaths and close your browser.
Ms. Fullam,
You ask what I’m implying about the liturgy at Trent. Nothing other than what I said: such a thing might be scary to some. In my limited experience I’ve found that some theologians can be weird, sometimes quite weird, and when many are gathered together they can be even weirder. Not all fall into this category, certainly, but having looked at the titles of the presentations at Trent I can tell you that I’d walk on the other side of the street if I saw some of them coming. I have no doubt that someone so disposed could write up his or her observations of the conference in a manner as equally condescending as your conclusions about “the whole church scene in Italy.”
Tolerant soul that I am, however, I am not calling for the “deconsecration of the (Trent) joint.” That was the nature of your considered reaction after having attended two masses in Italy where the externals of participation failed to meet your expectations. Perhaps you should offer your services as a consultant for the deconsecration of Italian churches. Usually when some hapless bishop tries to close down a parish you may have noticed that all hell breaks loose. But perhaps your insights can persuade the backward souls that they’ll be better off with the proper guidance.
In August many Italians leave for vacation. And many cathedrals are located in the center of the city where there are few residents and many competing parishes. But Italy is a big place and if you want to find dignified liturgical celebrations in surroundings of great architectural and artistic beauty you can find them with a little preparation as easily as in any other country. Take along a missal and perhaps an ethicist or two for protection.
But always beware of the priests (or presiders) as you seem to be prepared to do. Here’s one 19th century buttoned-down Bostonian warning her fellow Americans about the wicked nature of Italian priests:
“You meet, everywhere, dark, sinister-looking Jesuits, in their sombre robes, moving about by twos, at a peculiar, stealthy, prowling gait – walking presentments of the very blackness of spiritual darkness, stupid, vulgar-looking Franciscans, in coarse gowns of brown cloth, rope-girded, barefooted, shaven, begging friars, sometimes leading asses laden with the pious offerings of the faithful…” Haps and Mishaps of a Tour in Europe, 1854.
From your report the priest made no eye contact with the congregation so that result might in fact represent an improvement on their part over the negative interactions of the 19th century. Would that American tourists had cultivated their sensitivities to an equal degree!
For your penance visit Italy every year for ten years and see if it’s not possible to find solace there or anywhere, even in liturgies having a sign of peace that is less exuberant than you are accustomed to.
As much as it would please the Patricks Molloy and Brennan, Lisa Fullam did not call for the closing of that parish she didn’t name. The Patricks’ new gambit is to link her to anti-Catholic tracts, which is rich, considering she’s lamenting the failure of these services to bring to life the church’s rich liturgical tradition–including the often neglected practice of vespers. We can have a snark-off, if that’s what these people would prefer. I suspect they’d win–practice makes perfect. But we shouldn’t be fooled by their pathetic attempts to change the subject–and the facts–of Lisa’s post, which also praised a Mass in Assisi. A guitar Mass–horrors–but a Mass all the same.
Amusing that this is adjacent to the Newman thread on being dispassionate, cautious and fair!
“The priest dispensed Eucharist mechanically, then dashed to the sacristy without a personal word. No wonder so few bother to attend. Might as well deconsecrate the joint and sell it to someone who cares about it, even if only for the art and the history, instead of pretending it’s a living church.”
I certainly don’t think Lisa was endorsing closing the church–indeed, in context, it is entirely clear she was lamenting the situation.
One of the things that came out of the Catholic Common Ground Initiative on liturgy was the fact that progressives and conservatives alike valued prayerful, attentive celebration of the Eucharist. Is the problem that perceived liberals don’t have standing in conservative quarters to protest “mechanical” celebrations of the mass? Is apparent indifference of the celebrant not a problem for all of us? An appreciation for reverence isn’t the sole property of the readers of MOJ and First Things, after all. And not every hint of warmth in the presiding priest portends the return of the clown mass.
I have spent several summers in Italy, learning Latin. And I myself have found it very unsettling to be in a beautiful Italian church, and participating in a mass which transpires along the lines described by Lisa. It seems that the beautiful setting–the blood, the sweat, the artwork, the faith of those who have gone before–calls us to a higher standard. A perfunctory mass in an nondescript American church would be unremarkable, in some sense. Here, the perception of contrast causes the pain. When the mass is celebrated in a perfunctory way in this achingly beautiful setting, the incongruity is painful. After all, as Balthasar said, the death and resurrection of Jesus, Christ, re-presented in the Eucharist, is the true standard of beauty.
Moreover, the erosion of European Christianity is far more palpable in such settings–the grand emptiness of those churches are a reproach, and a cause to fear for the future. I don’t think we experience that in the U.S. It’s jarring, at least for me.
Is Lisa’s judgment too precipitous? Is it the fact that it’s August a better explanation? Perhaps. But take a look at this article by Sandro Magister about the Italian church’s state.
It’s entitled: “Who Goes to Mass and Who Doesn’t: The Uncertain Tomorrow of Catholic Italy.”
http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/1344389?eng=y
Actually, Lisa’s lament seems to echo very much those of Joseph Ratzinger in the need for better liturgies celebrated with greater care and intensity. I don’t get the conservative ire.
While Marc DeGirolami may like the liturgies as Lisa witnessed, the indicators are they are not connecting with Italian Catholics today. So what to do? Also, I have seen some very fine liturgies and religious celebrations in Italy that were the opposite of the one Lisa experienced and which seemed to channel the kind of spiritual participation that Mr. DeGirolami says is not native to Italy. His experience was not mine, but those are just two different experiences.
“The priest [] dashed to the sacristy without a personal word.” maybe the pastor was away on vacation, and this was a substitute priest, possibly retired, and who perhaps did not know any one in the congregation.
“Actually, Lisa’s lament seems to echo very much those of Joseph Ratzinger in the need for better liturgies celebrated with greater care and intensity.”
That was my impression, too.
FWIW – I just think “mass reviews” and “church vistor reviews” need to be taken with a grain of salt. The only way to really understand the liturgical life of a place is to immerse yourself in it over a long period of time. Popping into one mass on one Sunday may or may not give you an accurate snapshot of what it’s like to be part of the community over the long haul. Lisa may have caught those places on bad days for them. (For their sake, I hope so!)
The thing that I found most disturbing was that admission was charged to enter the church (as the beginning of the post says, “I resist being charged admission to enter a church–don’t churches belong to the people of God?”). I’m surprised that no one else seems to have picked up on this, and it seemed to be ignored by Patrick Brennan’s critique. Unless I’m misunderstanding something, isn’t the admission charge really the worst thing out of all of it?