A VISITOR’S IMPRESSIONS OF
THE LITURGY
By
Joseph E. Mulligan, SJ
December, 2013
By
Joseph E. Mulligan, SJ
December, 2013
During a visit last year in the
U.S., I celebrated Mass at a number of parishes – first having familiarized
myself with the new translations. After returning to Nicaragua, where I have
been working with Christian Base Communities since 1986, I reflected on my experience
in my native country and tried to sort out some impressions.
This essay is offered as an
expression of what the great moral theologian, Bernard Haring, called “the
virtue of loving criticism” – i.e., constructive and respectful criticism. It
is also presented with full recognition of my very limited experience of the
Church in the States.
Pope Francis seems to have an approach to liturgy which is profoundly
pastoral and human, ready to adapt to circumstances, and not preoccupied with
the letter of the rubrical law.
Indeed, in his Apostolic Exhortation, “The Joy of the Gospel,” he noted
that “in some people we see an ostentatious preoccupation for the liturgy, for
doctrine and for the Church’s prestige, but without any concern that the Gospel
have a real impact on God’s faithful people and the concrete needs of the
present time. In this way, the life of the Church turns into a museum piece or
something which is the property of a select few” (#95).
I
hope that on my next visit to the U.S., the liturgical spirit of Vatican II
will once again be at the heart of our celebrations.
I am inspired by one of the four
formulas for the dismissal at the end of Mass: “Go in peace, glorifying the
Lord by your life.” It is not apparent why this is superior to the former, “The
Mass is ended, let us go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” But it does make
an important point: that we love and “glorify” God by our daily actions. This
echoes Jesus’ words at the Last Supper: “I glorified you on earth by finishing
the work that you gave me to do” (Jn 17:4). Living in and working with Christ is
the fruit of all liturgical and other religious activity.
Holiness
by vocabulary?
However, the very fact of revising
and promulgating the translation, with all its preparation and attention to
detail, may lead many to conclude that the painstaking implementation of these
changes is more important than the incarnation of gospel values in our lives.
Are the differences in translation so
significant that they have warranted such effort by bishops, priests, and laity?
If some of the new wording is closer to the Latin (even though awkward in
English), does that help people to raise their hearts and minds to God and
really feel what they are saying? (Let us recall that the Last Supper was
celebrated in Aramaic and the early Eucharists commonly in Greek.)
According to Vatican II’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy: “The rites should be distinguished by a noble simplicity;
they should be short, clear, and unencumbered by useless repetitions; they
should be within the people's powers of comprehension, and normally should not
require much explanation” (#34). That Jesus as the Son is “one in Being with
the Father” is a mystery which is part of our faith; is it any clearer or more
within our powers of comprehension to say that Jesus is “consubstantial” with
the Father? If we want to attract young people and keep parishes alive in
inner-city areas, why would we make it more difficult for people to understand
the prayers?
But my main point is not that we
should lead the charge against “and with your spirit” or come up with something
(anything) more graceful and expressive than “dewfall.” In Spanish we have
always said “y con tu espiritu.” No big deal. Rather, I am wondering whether
the insistence on such details gives the impression that we are being more
obedient Christians and better worshippers than we were in the past.
Holiness
as strict observance of rubrical detail?
A similar impression has to do with
the inordinate attention being paid in some parishes to purifying chalices and
altar linens and other such details. In one sacristy I spent a considerable
amount of time between Masses reading the detailed instructions on how to clean
the linens in a special basin. This gets dangerously close to the practices
denounced by Jesus himself: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For
you clean the outside of the cup and of the plate, but inside they are full of
greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the
cup, so that the outside also may become clean” (Matthew 23:25-26).
All of us, priests and laity alike,
are subject to the pharisaic temptation of thinking that laborious attention to
legalistic minutiae is a more authentic sign of Christian holiness than the
practical following of Jesus in everyday life. Would we not be truer disciples
if we spent more time and energy reading, meditating upon, and discussing the
gospel rather than legislating exactly how the purificators are to be purified?
Would we then have to confront, in ourselves, the greed and narcissism
(“self-indulgence”) of our culture?
In Mark’s version of Jesus’ dialogue
with the scribe about the greatest commandment, after agreeing that it is the
double mandate to love God and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, the scribe
compares such love to certain temple practices: “this is much more important
than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices” (12:33).
The gospel is indeed a call to
perfection, but not in the sense of a perfect performance of a ritual; rather,
we are called to love and forgive one another as God loves us. “Be perfect, as
your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48).
Vatican
II’s passion
The passion of Vatican II was for a liturgy
which would sanctify people, helping us to live out our faith and to be “one in
holiness”: “the renewal in the Eucharist of the
covenant between the Lord and man draws the faithful into the compelling love
of Christ and sets them on fire (#10).” The goal of the Eucharist is not attained
merely by a “correct” celebration nor by a “beautiful Mass”; rather, the
Eucharist, like all the sacraments, is to bear fruit beyond itself in “the
sanctification of men in Christ and the glorification of God, to which all
other activities of the Church are directed as toward their end.” Liturgy
exists for the good of people, not people for liturgy.
The person fully alive is the glory of God. Do most
liturgies today set us “on fire,” or do they cast a pall over the congregation?
Do they help us to grow in our intimate knowledge of Jesus, in our love for
him, and in our commitment to follow him in daily life? Do they really bear the
intended fruit: union in and with Christ?
Those of us who are pastors or presiders would do well to reflect on
our duty according to Vatican II: “Pastors of souls must therefore realize that, when the
liturgy is celebrated, something more is required than the mere observation of
the laws governing valid and licit celebration; it is their duty also to ensure
that the faithful take part fully aware of what they are doing, actively
engaged in the rite, and enriched by its effects” (#11).
In a section entitled “The Promotion of Liturgical Instruction and
Active Participation,” the Constitution gives voice to its other passion: its
“earnest desire” that “all the faithful should be led to that fully
conscious and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded
by the very nature of the liturgy. Such participation by the Christian people
as ‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a redeemed people’ (1
Pet. 2:9; cf. 2:4-5) is their right and duty by reason of their baptism.
“In the
restoration and promotion of the sacred liturgy, this full and active
participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else;
for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to
derive the true Christian spirit; and therefore pastors of souls must zealously
strive to achieve it, by means of the necessary instruction, in all their
pastoral work” (#14).
Later this document underlines the
priesthood of all the faithful: “The Church, therefore, earnestly desires that
Christ's faithful, when present at this mystery of faith, should not be there
as strangers or silent spectators; on the contrary, through a good
understanding of the rites and prayers they should take part in the sacred
action conscious of what they are doing, with devotion and full collaboration.
They should be instructed by God's word and be nourished at the table of the
Lord's body; they should give thanks to God; by offering the Immaculate Victim,
not only through the hands of the priest,
but also with him, they should learn also to offer themselves…. (#48,
italics mine).
The
message of Redemptionis Sacramentum
In recent years the Church has
focused on the unique function of the priest rather than on the people’s
offering “with him.” While the faithful have their own functions, the priest is
urged not to “cede to them in any way those things that are proper to his own
office” (Redemptionis Sacramentum --On
certain matters to be observed or to be avoided regarding the Most Holy
Eucharist, #32, an “instruction”
issued by the Congregation for Divine
Worship and the Discipline of the Sacrament, 2004). Lay ministers of communion are grudgingly
allowed to continue their role, but only when there are not enough priests or
deacons on hand.
In some places there is a return to
an undue emphasis on priestly roles and status and on the “apartness” of the
priest, as if that old notion of sanctity were still valid. In one parish
twelve ministers of communion came forward but did not ascend even the first
step of the sanctuary; the celebrant had to make six trips to them with chalice
and paten in hand.
The passion of Redemptionis
Sacramentum is to defend and indeed exalt the unique role of the ordained
priest, whereas the passion of Vatican II was that the liturgy should nourish
the transformation of persons and
promote their full and conscious participation. Is the 2004 document being
studied with more reverence and care in today’s seminaries than Vatican II’s
Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy? It should go without saying that the latter
document remains the font of our liturgical piety and practice.
The tone of the 2004 instruction is negative and punitive; the word abuse is used thirty-two times in
reference to liturgical transgressions. In one paragraph (#11) the
“perpetration” of grave liturgical abuses is vigorously denounced. Could such
language give some the impression that such abuses are as serious as others
perpetrated in the contemporary Church? With the pulverization of priestly pedestals
in the last few decades, are we now trying to enthrone the priest on cultic
pedestals, as if solely by ordination he is a more faithful disciple of Jesus?
In his letter to the Romans Paul removed slavish fear from the
disciple’s heart: “You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear [emphasis mine], but you have received a
spirit of adoption” (8:15). As “children” and “heirs” of God and “joint heirs
with Christ,” we confidently call to God as “Abba, Father.”
If all baptized Christians have such freedom and dignity as full
members of the church, and if they are not slaves even of God, then why should
they be treated as (or at least appear to be) slaves of priests? Every Christian has the right, as a “joint
heir with Christ” and full-fledged child of God, to feel perfectly at home in
church, respecting priests and other members but not intimidated by anyone.
The reader may be wondering where I have been since the 2004 issuance
of Redemptionis Sacramentum. Am I
just now noticing its life-draining effects on both priests and people? In the
barrios and remote settlements in the mountains of Latin America, it is not
possible to carry out all the detailed prescriptions of the document. On mule
or horseback or slipping and sliding through the mud, we cannot carry a full
wardrobe of priestly vestments; we try to keep our alb and stole clean and our
hosts dry. Nor can we bring along a complete set of liturgical vessels,
especially of the heavier metallic variety; we make do with lighter and more
portable but still beautiful ones.
Our “Church of the poor” cannot afford to buy an elegant sacrarium for the painstaking washings
of the linens; appointed members of the community wash the cloths carefully and
with reverence whenever there is running water available. Where people living
on $1 a day are struggling for daily survival, we stick to the essentials of
the gospel as “good news to the poor” and as Jesus’ call to form true and
loving communities; and we want our liturgies to be joyful celebrations which
energize and strengthen the people.
St. Paul: “The freedom we have in Christ Jesus”
I sense that an infantile fear – of God, of the bishop, of the priest,
of the “liturgical police” lurking in the pews – rather than a mature reverence
for God and for the sacramental presence of Christ is being inculcated by the
liturgical style of many parishes. Indeed, our Protestant brothers and sisters
could well draw the conclusion that we are regressing to that “works
righteousness” which St. Paul cautioned against.
That is, fearing God’s punishment, we seek to justify ourselves and
find salvation in our meticulous observance of the religious (in this case,
liturgical) law, instead of trusting in God for forgiveness, receiving God’s
mercy as grace (pure gift), and then getting on with the business of loving God
and neighbor as best we can with the help of the Spirit.
The focus on cultic detail almost calls to mind St. Paul’s words of
exasperation about the Galatians’ regression to the letter of the law: “I am
astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the
grace of Christ…” (Gal 1:6). The people were succumbing to pressure from the
religious police within the community; Paul characterizes these as “false
believers secretly brought in, who slipped in to spy on the freedom we have in
Christ Jesus, so that they might enslave us” (2:4).
The Eucharist
as solidarity
With all our attention being paid to rubrical correctness (which is not
the same as liturgical effectiveness), we would do well to remind ourselves of
Paul’s criterion for the validity of
a Eucharistic celebration: that the related meal, the agape, be an expression of sharing between the rich and the poor
and not an occasion for conspicuous consumption by the haves. “When you come
together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper. For when the time comes to
eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and
another becomes drunk” (1 Cor 11:20-21). Those who thus “humiliate those who
have nothing” show “contempt for the church of God” (v 22).
In his encyclical Ecclesia de
Eucharistia (#20), John Paul II cited Paul’s critique and then, in a footnote, the graphic words of St. John Chrysostom: “Do you wish to honor the body of Christ? Do not ignore
him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only
then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad.
“He who said: 'This is my body' is the same who said: 'You saw me hungry and you gave me
no food', and 'Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also to me'
... What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with golden chalices
when your brother is dying of hunger. Start by satisfying his hunger and then
with what is left you may adorn the altar as well” (In Evangelium S.
Matthaei, hom. 50:3-4).
John Paul II continued: “All who take part
in the Eucharist” must “be committed to changing their lives” and “to transforming the world in
accordance with the Gospel.” Christians should “feel more obliged than ever not
to neglect their duties as citizens in this world. Theirs is the task of
contributing with the light of the Gospel to the building of a more human
world, a world fully in harmony with God's plan. Many problems darken the
horizon of our time.” The pope pointed to the
need to work for peace and justice and to defend life.
Observer-participants
from South America
After conducting a series of workshops in various U.S. parishes, two
Brazilian pastoral theologians recently reported that “the majority of the
people did not know what a Council is and knew nothing of Vatican II.” Fr. José Marins and Sister Teolide Trevisan,
advisers to Christian Base Communities throughout the hemisphere, also observed
that the pastoral focus of many parishes is “clerical and intra-ecclesial, with
great attention paid to sacraments and devotions.”
Recent years have seen a “constant preoccupation with the liturgy, not
in the sense of the paschal mystery but rather in regard to rules concerning
sacraments and sacramentals. A great deal of time, money, and energy have been
concentrated on the new English missal. Some priests are studying Latin and
celebrating Mass with their backs to the people. Some priests and bishops seem convinced
in their hearts and sometimes state that Vatican II is responsible for the
crises in the Church.”
After a workshop with over 180 young adults, the teachers noted that
they have been taught to focus more on intra-church activities and ministries
than on work for justice in the world. “The adoration of the Blessed Sacrament,
which needless to say is of great value, is more attractive to many than
participation in a group which would seek to analyze the social reality and to
discern appropriate responses…. A commitment to transform the world [which the 1971
Synod of Bishops identified as an essential element of evangelization] appears
to some as ‘meddling in politics.’”
I have raised a question in some Latin American communities which could
certainly be asked also in the U.S. and elsewhere: “Is it possible to err by
spending too much time in church or in religious practices such as
processions?” Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is, for some, a meaningful and
sincere expression of their love for Christ; but are we also loving and serving
Christ where he himself said he would be – in the poor, the sick, the imprisoned,
the homeless (Mt 25:31-40)? In addition to adoring Jesus in the host, do we
contemplate his life, love, and teachings as found in the gospels and then work
as “other Christs” in the world?
Let us conclude with a question: Do we leave the Eucharistic celebration
feeling that we have seriously renewed our commitment to “glorify the Lord” by
our lives, as we now say, and that we can count on Jesus as the Bread of Life
and on his Spirit of Love to enable us to do so? Are we more dynamically united
with Christ as members of his Body, with new food and energy to be his
ambassadors in love, service, and prophetic criticism of the world?
END
The author, a Jesuit from Detroit, works in Nicaragua with Christian
Base Communities and with people with disabilities (special abilities).
