I am happy to report the Angelus was indeed recited before today's community Mass at 11:30 at the Center. If this does successfully evolve into a custom and then a tradition (that is, something done around Maryknoll more than three times in a row), this most excellent reminder of the Incarnation and devotion to Our Lady may rekindle the smoldering embers of our quickly fading spirituality.
And not a moment too soon. In an earlier post I already kvetched about priests who sat in street clothes amidst the congregants and then raised a hand during the consecration under the mistaken impression they were concelebrating, in violation of two distinct liturgical rules.
Now I focus my crosshairs on those who vest for concelebration and think that's all that is required of them. Um, no.
Nothing is more distracting during a liturgy than concelebrants who don't realize they are now "on stage" and can be clearly seen by everyone. Liturgical and prayerful "presence" require more than the minimal sitting and standing at the correct time.
As a graduate of the same high school alma mater as Isador Danielovitch, a.k.a. Isador Dempsky, a.k.a. Kirk Douglas, I know from stage presence, especially for extras, i.e. actors not in lead roles. Every gesture, every glance must add to the scene or it will diminish and distract. In recent liturgies the body language of some concelebrants bordered on disrespectful.
One maintained the classic "padrone stance" (hands behind his back) throughout the entire Mass, while he checked out various people in the congregation. News flash: we can see you. What's more, we can see exactly what and whom you are looking at. Cut it out!
Another kept his arms crossed in front of his chest. This is the classic self-defense pose, nonverbally seeking protection ( lest the Word of God upset you?)
Some held onto the hymnal for security even when no hymn was imminent.
Many maintained a minimalist pose: hands folded but lowered, as if praying apologetically.
Now to their credit, those concelebrants who do maintain a respectful prayer stance all seem to be from Asia. (But I could be prejudiced). To dissect further: the most prayerful stance seems to be of guys from Japan, Taiwan and Korea in that order. (Demerits to two old Korea hands, however, whose posture indicated boredom or a desire to be elsewhere.)
A suggestion: if you are that uncomfortable or embarrassed to be seen praying in public then do not concelebrate.
I just returned from Istanbul where, let me tell you, Muslims know how to pray with their bodies. I have seen Buddhists---and Maryknollers---express reverence during prayer in a Buddhist temple. Pictures in Maryknoll magazine of people at prayer leave no doubt what they are doing. A snapshot of Maryknoll concelebrants would leave most people scratching their heads.
If the Eucharist is our central prayer and if we are privileged to concelebrate, shouldn't our bodily posture reinforce this? How can we proclaim the Incarnation yet be reluctant to pray with our bodies? But will it take more than the recitation of the Angelus and this petulant post to whip us into shape liturgically????
Sent from my most excellent iPhone & iPad.
Showing posts with label liturgy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label liturgy. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
One musical trainwreck, one homiletic meltdown
IT'S NOT LIKE WE DON'T GET ENOUGH PRACTICE. Yesterday's funeral for Fr. Bill Marley was an improvement over our last fiasco, but that's not saying much. Even with Yours Truly leading the singing, I was no match for the organist who had a mind, tempo, volume and key all her own. Knowing when to stop playing is an important skill to cultivate. Knowing when to let go of the final chord already and let the celebrant get on with the liturgy remains an elusive goal.
Simply volunteering to preach during the time alotted for the homily should not automaticaly qualify someone to speak, ex temporaneously, unprepared and to absentmindedly rehash the entire biography from the prior evening. I do not fault the man who generously stepped up and volunteered. I fault those who selected him (for the second time in a row no less) and especially those in our "community" who couldn't be bothered to preach at a brother's funeral.
Hey, give me a break, it's Ash Wednesday. I'm sure I'll be in a better frame of mind after I eat something!
On a more upbeat note, Chace Olinger (Indiana), one of five vocation prospects applying this year, arrived this week to go through his battery of tests and interviews and physicals in preperation for the Admissions Board. Chace spent some time in Japan last year, getting to know Maryknollers and our work there.
Similarly we welcome Glen Di Angelo (Georgia) who will arrive this Friday and who spent time last summer in Bolivia.
Psychological tests? Hey, if they can endure our liturgies I say, "Sign 'em up!"
Simply volunteering to preach during the time alotted for the homily should not automaticaly qualify someone to speak, ex temporaneously, unprepared and to absentmindedly rehash the entire biography from the prior evening. I do not fault the man who generously stepped up and volunteered. I fault those who selected him (for the second time in a row no less) and especially those in our "community" who couldn't be bothered to preach at a brother's funeral.
Hey, give me a break, it's Ash Wednesday. I'm sure I'll be in a better frame of mind after I eat something!
On a more upbeat note, Chace Olinger (Indiana), one of five vocation prospects applying this year, arrived this week to go through his battery of tests and interviews and physicals in preperation for the Admissions Board. Chace spent some time in Japan last year, getting to know Maryknollers and our work there.
Similarly we welcome Glen Di Angelo (Georgia) who will arrive this Friday and who spent time last summer in Bolivia.
Psychological tests? Hey, if they can endure our liturgies I say, "Sign 'em up!"
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Liturgy and Korean mission update
FR. TOM MARTI recommends reminding guys they can support the effort to put the brakes on the liturgical Latinization by signing a petition on the following site: www.whatifwejustsaidwait.org
The link was posted too far down in the Ryan article so you may have missed it. Marty points out that more than 1,600 signatures have been garnered s far.
Also Fr. Gene Toland wrote concerning the failed Korean mission to Sudan. He was unable to post a comment for some reason (I tried as well and it didn't appear in the comments sidebar) so here it is:
"From the experience of Korean priests coming to language school to prepare to work in LA, I would say the Korean church needs a serious reflection on how to send missioners abroad. The face presented by some borders at times on the scandalous. Some host families now refuse to take in the Korean playboys."
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Learning liturgical lessons of the past?
ONE COMPLAINT against the first changes of the Mass from Latin/Greek to the vernacular was that liturgists foisted the translation upon unsuspecting congregations. This gave rise to the old chestnut: "What's the difference between a terrorist and a liturgist? You can negotiate with terrorists." Haha
In an attempt to avoid this mistake, proponents of the New Roman Missal have prepared detailed catechesis to accompany the changes. But now, Rev. Michael G. Ryan, pastor of St. James Cathedral in Seattle since 1988 who serves on the board of the national Cathedral Ministry Conference, has written this compelling article in the December 14, 2009 edition of AMERICA Magazine. I offer it for your enlightenment.
********************************************
The veterans who enthusiastically devoted their best creative energies as young priests to selling the reforms of the council to parishioners back in the 1960s will be asked to do the same with regard to the new translations. Yet we will be hard put to do so. Some colleagues in ministry may actually relish the opportunity, but not those of us who were captivated by the great vision of Vatican II, who knew firsthand the Tridentine Mass and loved it for what it was, but welcomed its passing because of what full, conscious and active participation would mean for our people.
What is at stake, it seems to me, is nothing less than the church’s credibility. It is true that the church could gain some credibility by giving us more beautiful translations, but clumsy is not beautiful, and precious is not prayerful. During a recent dinner conversation with friends, the issue of the new translations came up. Two at the table were keenly—and quite angrily—aware of the impending changes; two were not. When the uninformed heard a few examples (“and with your spirit”; “consubstantial with the Father”; “incarnate of the Virgin Mary”;
“oblation of our service”; “send down your Spirit like the dewfall”; “He took the precious chalice”; “serene and kindly countenance,” for starters), the reaction was somewhere between disbelief and indignation.
One person ventured the opinion that with all that the church has on its plate today—global challenges with regard to justice, peace and the environment; nagging scandals; a severe priest shortage; the growing disenchantment of many women; seriously lagging church attendance—it seems almost ludicrous to push ahead with an agenda that will seem at best trivial and at worst hopelessly out-of-touch. The reaction of my friends should surprise no one who has had a chance to review the new translations.
There’s more: the chilling reception the people of the dioceses of South Africa have given the new translations. In a rare oversight, the bishops of that country misread the instructions from Rome and, after a careful program of catechesis in the parishes, introduced the new translations to their people some months ago. The translations were met almost uniformly with opposition bordering on outrage.
The bishops have done their best, but up to now they have not succeeded. Some of them, led by the courageous and outspoken former chairman of the Bishops’ Committee on the Liturgy, Bishop Donald Trautman of Erie, Pa., tried mightily to stop the new translation train but to no avail. The bishops’ conference, marginalized and battle-weary, allowed itself slowly but steadily to be worn down. After awhile the will to fight was simply not there. Acquiescence took over to the point that tiny gains (a word here, a comma there) were regarded as major victories. Without ever wanting to, the bishops abandoned their best pastoral instincts and in so doing gave up on the best interests of their people.
So the question arises: Are we priests going to give up, too? Are we, too, going to acquiesce? We do, of course, owe our bishops the obedience and respect that we pledged to them on the day of our ordination, but does obedience mean complicity with something we perceive to be wrong—or, at best, wrongheaded? Does obedience mean going against our best pastoral instincts in order to promote something that we believe will, in the end, actually bring discredit to the church and further disillusionment to the people? I do not think so. And does respect involve paying lip service to something to which our more instinctive reaction is to call it foolhardy?
What if, before implementing the new translations, we do some “market testing?” What if each region of bishops were to designate certain places where the new translations would receive a trial run: urban parishes and rural parishes, affluent parishes and poor parishes, large, multicultural parishes and small parishes, religious communities and college campuses? What if for the space of one full liturgical year the new translations were used in these designated communities, with carefully planned catechesis and thorough, honest evaluation? Wouldn’t such an experiment yield valuable information for both the translators and the bishops? And wouldn’t such an experiment make it much easier to implement the translations when they are ready?
“What If We Just Said No?” was my working title for this article. “What If We Just Said, ‘Wait’?” seems preferable. Dialogue is better than diatribe, as the Second Vatican Council amply demonstrated. So let the dialogue begin. Why not let the priests who are on the front lines and the laypeople who pay the bills (including the salaries of priests and bishops) have some say in how they are to pray? If you think the idea has merit, I invite you to log on to the Website www.whatifwejustsaidwait.org and make your voice heard. If our bishops know the depth of our concern, perhaps they will not feel so alone.
What If We Said, 'Wait'?
The case for a grass-roots review of the new Roman Missal
It is now 45 years since the Second Vatican Council promulgated the
groundbreaking and liberating document on the sacred liturgy, Sacrosanctum
Concilium. As an eager and enthusiastic North American College seminarian at
the time, I was in St. Peter’s Square on the December day in 1963 when Pope Paul VI, with the world’s bishops, presented that great Magna Carta to the church. The conciliar document transcended ecclesiastical politics.
The case for a grass-roots review of the new Roman Missal
It is now 45 years since the Second Vatican Council promulgated the
groundbreaking and liberating document on the sacred liturgy, Sacrosanctum
Concilium. As an eager and enthusiastic North American College seminarian at
the time, I was in St. Peter’s Square on the December day in 1963 when Pope Paul VI, with the world’s bishops, presented that great Magna Carta to the church. The conciliar document transcended ecclesiastical politics.
It was not just the pet project of a party but the overwhelming consensus of the bishops of the world. Its adoption passed overwhelmingly: 2,147 to 4. Not in my wildest dreams would it have occurred to me then that I would live to witness what seems more and more like the systematic dismantling of the great vision of the council’s decree. But I have. We Catholics have.
For evidence, one need look no further than recent instructions from the
Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments that have raised rubricism to an art form, or the endorsement, even encouragement, of the so-called Tridentine Mass. It has become painfully clear that the liturgy, the prayer of the people, is being used as a tool—some
would even say as a weapon—to advance specific agendas. And now on the
horizon are the new translations of the Roman Missal that will soon reach the final stages of approval by the Holy See. Before long the priests of this country will be told to take the new translations to their people by means of a carefully orchestrated education program that will attempt to put a good face on something that clearly does not deserve it.
Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments that have raised rubricism to an art form, or the endorsement, even encouragement, of the so-called Tridentine Mass. It has become painfully clear that the liturgy, the prayer of the people, is being used as a tool—some
would even say as a weapon—to advance specific agendas. And now on the
horizon are the new translations of the Roman Missal that will soon reach the final stages of approval by the Holy See. Before long the priests of this country will be told to take the new translations to their people by means of a carefully orchestrated education program that will attempt to put a good face on something that clearly does not deserve it.
The veterans who enthusiastically devoted their best creative energies as young priests to selling the reforms of the council to parishioners back in the 1960s will be asked to do the same with regard to the new translations. Yet we will be hard put to do so. Some colleagues in ministry may actually relish the opportunity, but not those of us who were captivated by the great vision of Vatican II, who knew firsthand the Tridentine Mass and loved it for what it was, but welcomed its passing because of what full, conscious and active participation would mean for our people.
We can see the present moment only as one more assault on the council and, sadly, one more blow to episcopal collegiality. It was, after all, the council that gave to conferences of bishops the authority to produce their own translations
(S.C., Nos. 36, 40), to be approved, it is true, by the Holy See but not, presumably, to be initiated, nitpicked and controlled by it. Further, the
council also wisely made provision for times of experimentation and evaluation (S.C., No. 40)—something that has been noticeably missing in the present case.
(S.C., Nos. 36, 40), to be approved, it is true, by the Holy See but not, presumably, to be initiated, nitpicked and controlled by it. Further, the
council also wisely made provision for times of experimentation and evaluation (S.C., No. 40)—something that has been noticeably missing in the present case.
This leads me to pose a question to my brother priests: What if we were to
awaken to the fact that these texts are neither pastoral nor ready for our
parishes? What if we just said, “Wait”?
awaken to the fact that these texts are neither pastoral nor ready for our
parishes? What if we just said, “Wait”?
Prayer and Good Sense
I know it might smack of insubordination to talk this way, but it could also be a show of loyalty and plain good sense—loyalty not to any ideological agenda but to our people, whose prayer the new translations purport to improve, and good sense to anyone who stops to think about what is at stake here.
What is at stake, it seems to me, is nothing less than the church’s credibility. It is true that the church could gain some credibility by giving us more beautiful translations, but clumsy is not beautiful, and precious is not prayerful. During a recent dinner conversation with friends, the issue of the new translations came up. Two at the table were keenly—and quite angrily—aware of the impending changes; two were not. When the uninformed heard a few examples (“and with your spirit”; “consubstantial with the Father”; “incarnate of the Virgin Mary”;
“oblation of our service”; “send down your Spirit like the dewfall”; “He took the precious chalice”; “serene and kindly countenance,” for starters), the reaction was somewhere between disbelief and indignation.
One person ventured the opinion that with all that the church has on its plate today—global challenges with regard to justice, peace and the environment; nagging scandals; a severe priest shortage; the growing disenchantment of many women; seriously lagging church attendance—it seems almost ludicrous to push ahead with an agenda that will seem at best trivial and at worst hopelessly out-of-touch. The reaction of my friends should surprise no one who has had a chance to review the new translations.
Some of them have merit, but far too many do not. Recently the Archdiocese of Seattle sponsored a seminar on the new translations for lay leaders and clergy. Both the priest who led the seminar (an accomplished liturgical theologian) and the participants gathered there in good faith. When passages from the proposed new translation were soberly read aloud by the presenter (I remember especially the phrase from the first eucharistic prayer that currently reads “Joseph, her husband,” but which in the new translation becomes “Joseph, spouse of the same virgin”), there was audible laughter in the room. I found myself thinking that the
idea of this happening during the sacred liturgy is no laughing matter but
something that should make us all tremble.
idea of this happening during the sacred liturgy is no laughing matter but
something that should make us all tremble.
There’s more: the chilling reception the people of the dioceses of South Africa have given the new translations. In a rare oversight, the bishops of that country misread the instructions from Rome and, after a careful program of catechesis in the parishes, introduced the new translations to their people some months ago. The translations were met almost uniformly with opposition bordering on outrage.
It is not my purpose here to discuss in detail the flawed principles of translation behind this effort or the weak, inconsistent translations that have resulted. Others have already ably done that. Nor do I want to belabor the fact that those who prepared the translations seem to be far better versed in Latin than in English. No, my concern is for the step we now face: the prospect of implementing the new translations.
This brings me back to my question: What if we just said, “Wait”? What if we, the parish priests of this country who will be charged with the implementation, were to find our voice and tell our bishops that we want to help them avert an almost certain fiasco? What if we told them that we think it unwise to implement these changes until our people have been consulted in an adult manner that truly honors their intelligence and their baptismal birthright? What if we just said, “Wait, not until our people are ready for the new translations, but until the translations are ready for our people”?
Heeding Our Pastoral Instincts
The bishops have done their best, but up to now they have not succeeded. Some of them, led by the courageous and outspoken former chairman of the Bishops’ Committee on the Liturgy, Bishop Donald Trautman of Erie, Pa., tried mightily to stop the new translation train but to no avail. The bishops’ conference, marginalized and battle-weary, allowed itself slowly but steadily to be worn down. After awhile the will to fight was simply not there. Acquiescence took over to the point that tiny gains (a word here, a comma there) were regarded as major victories. Without ever wanting to, the bishops abandoned their best pastoral instincts and in so doing gave up on the best interests of their people.
So the question arises: Are we priests going to give up, too? Are we, too, going to acquiesce? We do, of course, owe our bishops the obedience and respect that we pledged to them on the day of our ordination, but does obedience mean complicity with something we perceive to be wrong—or, at best, wrongheaded? Does obedience mean going against our best pastoral instincts in order to promote something that we believe will, in the end, actually bring discredit to the church and further disillusionment to the people? I do not think so. And does respect involve paying lip service to something to which our more instinctive reaction is to call it foolhardy?
Again, I don’t think so. I offer the following modest proposals. What if pastors, pastoral councils, liturgical commissions and presbyteral councils were to appeal to their bishops for a time of reflection and consultation on the translations and on the process whereby they will be given to the people? It is ironic, to say the least, that we spend hours of consultation when planning to renovate a church building or parish hall, but little or none when “renovating” the very language of the liturgy.
What if, before implementing the new translations, we do some “market testing?” What if each region of bishops were to designate certain places where the new translations would receive a trial run: urban parishes and rural parishes, affluent parishes and poor parishes, large, multicultural parishes and small parishes, religious communities and college campuses? What if for the space of one full liturgical year the new translations were used in these designated communities, with carefully planned catechesis and thorough, honest evaluation? Wouldn’t such an experiment yield valuable information for both the translators and the bishops? And wouldn’t such an experiment make it much easier to implement the translations when they are ready?
In short, what if we were to trust our best instincts and defend our people from this ill-conceived disruption of their prayer life? What if collegiality, dialogue and a realistic awareness of the pastoral needs of our people were to be introduced at this late stage of the game? Is it not possible that we might help the church we love avert a debacle or even disaster? And is it not possible that the voices in the church that have decided that Latinity is more important than lucidity might end up listening to the people and re-evaluating their position, and that lengthy, ungainly, awkward sentences could be trimmed, giving way to noble, even poetic
translations of beautiful old texts that would be truly worthy of our greatest prayer, worthy of our language and worthy of the holy people of God whose prayer this is? (If you think the above sentence is unwieldy, wait till you see some of the new Missal translations. They might be readable, but border on the unspeakable!)
translations of beautiful old texts that would be truly worthy of our greatest prayer, worthy of our language and worthy of the holy people of God whose prayer this is? (If you think the above sentence is unwieldy, wait till you see some of the new Missal translations. They might be readable, but border on the unspeakable!)
“What If We Just Said No?” was my working title for this article. “What If We Just Said, ‘Wait’?” seems preferable. Dialogue is better than diatribe, as the Second Vatican Council amply demonstrated. So let the dialogue begin. Why not let the priests who are on the front lines and the laypeople who pay the bills (including the salaries of priests and bishops) have some say in how they are to pray? If you think the idea has merit, I invite you to log on to the Website www.whatifwejustsaidwait.org and make your voice heard. If our bishops know the depth of our concern, perhaps they will not feel so alone.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Back to the liturgical future
FR. JOHN KASEROW introduced the new revised Roman Missal (do NOT call it a Sacramentary!) that will go into effect starting in 2010. Like, in six weeks). Speaking at the monthly house meeting, Kaserow handed out packets of pamphlets explaining all the revisions intended to get the English-speaking church more in line with the majesty and poetry of the Latin, from which it claims a more faithul translation.
Goodbye, "And also with you." Hello (again) to the traditional "And with your spirit" (whatever the hell that means. Nevermind, it's faithful to the Latin and that's all that matters.)
To be fair, some (re)translations are beautiful and more prayerful IMHO, as in "Behold, the Lamb of God..." As well as "...Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb." The people then respond with the more Scriptural (but out of place) "Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof..."
The confiteor reinstitutes, "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault" and the creed goes back to "Credo in unum Deum" by translating "I (no longer "we") believe in one God..."
The cup has been replaced by chalice. Christ sheds his blood for "the many" and no longer for "all" (that'll show 'em!).
There are many other changes that have been made but neither you nor I could bear it now. Suffice it to say that while hunger, poverty, war and disease vanquish our planet, the good prelates in charge of liturgical propriety have been busy at work.
For those of us who remember the initial changes following Vatican II, we'll have a profound sense of déjà vu all over again. "Plus ça change, plus sont les même chose."
Goodbye, "And also with you." Hello (again) to the traditional "And with your spirit" (whatever the hell that means. Nevermind, it's faithful to the Latin and that's all that matters.)
To be fair, some (re)translations are beautiful and more prayerful IMHO, as in "Behold, the Lamb of God..." As well as "...Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb." The people then respond with the more Scriptural (but out of place) "Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof..."
The confiteor reinstitutes, "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault" and the creed goes back to "Credo in unum Deum" by translating "I (no longer "we") believe in one God..."
The cup has been replaced by chalice. Christ sheds his blood for "the many" and no longer for "all" (that'll show 'em!).
There are many other changes that have been made but neither you nor I could bear it now. Suffice it to say that while hunger, poverty, war and disease vanquish our planet, the good prelates in charge of liturgical propriety have been busy at work.
For those of us who remember the initial changes following Vatican II, we'll have a profound sense of déjà vu all over again. "Plus ça change, plus sont les même chose."
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