Disparity of Cult

On this Labor Day weekend I helped to distribute Holy Communion at the 4:15pm Vigil Mass. A surge of nostalgia and comfort came upon me during the first notes of the Communion Hymn, "Come To Me" by former Benedictine monk Gregory Norbet. As a church organist I enjoyed playing and singing this hymn, for the lyrics are entirely biblical, if paraphrased. I was surprised to hear that the author has supplied more verses than the first, which had been the only one in the "PMB" (the various editions of the People's Mass Book, some of which are still used in our diocese).

I experience no small relief when I hear liturgical music that is entirely biblical, as opposed to the self-centered palaver that started hitting the shelves at about the same time as the aforementioned PMB. Numerous friends, priests and laity alike, have taken significant strides toward Catholic musical renewal in their parishes with the re-introduction (whether total or--pardon the pun--gradual) of Gregorian Chant. The Second Vatican Council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy reaffirmed that chant and organ are the primary forms of liturgical music. But whatever instrument or text we use to lift our voices to Almighty God, it is far better to praise Him than to praise ourselves.

After the Communion Hymn, our organist broke into her four-measure introduction to God Bless America, by Irving Berlin. The cantor began singing, but most of the assembly waited to chime in until "land that I love" or so. While I was heading into the sacristy to purify the sacred vessels, I began to harmonize along with the organ arrangement. Our people certainly did justice to this patriotic anthem.

A parishioner gently made an observation to me as I greeted people in a side vestibule. "Father, I couldn't help but notice how everyone sang so loud when the organist played God--"

I knew where she was headed, because it often occurs to me as well.

"--but they don't participate nearly as fully in the hymns, do they?" I responded, to a nodding head.

This is one of those weekends in which American worshippers of all faiths will belt out the patriotic songs played in their services. A lot of justifiable roof-raising!

But for some reason we have to get all solemn for the psal-ums (pronounced as my late father and other Coal Region natives sometimes pronounce film, improperly adding a schwa to make it a two-syllable word--the technical term is "epenthesis")!  Solemn as in unnecessarily reticent.

"Well, everybody knows 'America the Beautiful,' but not everybody knows 'O Bread of Life.'" "Well, if they're Catholic, why not?"

Patriotic songs honor our country, and yes, they honor the God to whom we look for protection and guidance; but sacred songs glorify God, the Mysteries of Faith, Our Lady, and all the rest, often (ideally) using the Lord's own words!

Why can't we sing them with equal gusto? Do we worship our country more than our God? I would imagine not, but it is a question worth considering. It encourages us to guard against the temptation to reduce patriotism to something we pull off the shelf on civil holidays or in times of national distress. We can keep God at arm's length as easily as anyone or anything else. A vapid civil religion suffices for many people, but it cannot suffice for faithful Catholics, especially as we hear the call to subject even our love of country to our love of God and divine values.

Let's Hear It For Alphabetical Order!

While scrolling through the iPod this evening, I noticed the curious juxtaposition of two works: a dramatic reading of The Habit of Perfection by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the song "Had To Cry Today" by Blind Faith. (Both selections are available on iTunes.) I was first introduced to Hopkins by the poetry section in the back of the four-volume Liturgy of the Hours, and to Blind Faith by a seminary classmate. For the Patient Reader's convenience I shall offer both selections:

ELECTED Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.
Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:	5
It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come
Which only makes you eloquent.
Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
And find the uncreated light:	10
This ruck and reel which you remark
Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.
Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust	15
So fresh that come in fasts divine!
Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!	20
O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.
And, Poverty, be thou the bride	25
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.

It's already written that today will be one to remember
The feeling's the same as being outside of the law
Had to cry today
Well, I saw your sign and I missed you there

I'm taking the chance to see the wind in your eyes while I listen
You say you can't reach me but you want every word to be free
Had to cry today
Well, I saw your sign and I missed you there
And I missed you there

Had to cry today ...

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/b/blind_faith/
I propose a relationship between the content of these poetic works. Hopkins writes in praise of the consecrated, vowed ("elected" as in freely chosen) religious life. It is the avenue to perfection: the ever-deepening relationship with the Trinity which finds its consummation in heaven.

The standard spiritual supposition is that people move swiftly along the path to spiritual progress by sensory self-denial. Hopkins provides examples: intentionally forgoing conversation and other forms of external noise (ll. 1-8), visual delights (9-12), gustatory pleasures (13-16), pleasant odors (17-20), tactile comforts (21-24), and all that money can buy (25-28). Thus he corroborates the Lord's contention that the consecrated person will receive "a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life" (Mt 19:29), in eternity if not in time.

The firm of Clapton, Winwood, Baker, and Grech support Hopkins' case (unwittingly, I'm sure) in "Had To Cry Today." We regret ignoring opportunities to connect. Perhaps one of the worst purgatorial pains will be a video montage of what could have been if we'd paid more attention to God and to people during our lives. We happily recall, however, that Divine Providence is the backdrop for such footage; for, even if we failed to bridge an unfortunate gap, God is bigger than all the dramatis personae in the human story.

It is likewise important to note that our interior recollection makes it easier to recognize the signs of God's presence and human need. Our periodic purification efforts might be only a shadow of others' efforts, but we profit by them by becoming clearer channels of compassion.

On Sin and Hell

We need to learn the realities of our holy faith so that they can strengthen God’s relevance in our lives. Understood, the right knowledge doesn’t automatically translate to the right actions. That’s why they told us in the seminary that "theology is best conducted on one’s knees": the enthusiastic fusion of learning, praying, and doing is what God and the Church are looking for, and what the world could use.

So let’s talk about hell, why don’t we? 

H-E-double-hockey-sticks. If you weren’t just a wee bit stirred over what Our Lord was saying today, you’d better check your pulse. Hell has all but ceased to occupy people’s minds, because sin has done likewise. Call me a downer, but these topics are worth revisiting. The Catechism of the Catholic Church has a brief section specifically on hell; it devotes only five paragraphs to the topic (1033-1037), but they’re meaty.

A mortal sin is a conscious and free choice against God, neighbor, or self in a serious matter. It results in our alienation from God, from neighbor, and from self. St. John, in his first epistle, reminds us, “He who does not love remains in death” (3:14). A callous and mindless neglect to make a good choice (a "sin of omission") achieves the same result. In the parable of the judgment of the nations, the king chastens those who failed to assist the hungry, thirsty, naked, ill, or imprisoned in their needs (cf. Mt 25:42-45). To die in this situation without repenting and accepting God’s mercy is to be forever alienated from the Source of our life and from all who have remained connected to that Source, the blessed. Hell is a “just punishment,” but the Judge acts without vengeance or impulsiveness, as we so often do. 

The only hope, or else despair

     Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre—

   To be redeemed from fire by fire.

(T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding," Four Quartets)

Jesus depicts hell as “an unquenchable fire,” while Dante envisions the depths of hell as icy and frigid. Either way, it is a stifling atmosphere in which we will feel “out of place,” but permanently. I say “out of place,” because God’s children were not made for eternal torment and separation, but rather for eternal peace and union. God's love for us nonetheless respects our freedom, the freedom even to reject Him if we wished. By the use or misuse of that freedom we "prepare" for our eternal dwelling —as much as one can prepare, anyhow, for just as the joys of heaven exceed our imagination, so do the pains of hell.

The Church’s teachings on sin and hell serve to call human beings to responsibility and conversion. The sooner the better, we want to grow in communion with the Lord so that we can place our personal desires in the greater context of His love that we are called to share with others. This is a lifelong, difficult endeavor. It involves discipline, as our second reading notes: not only God’s discipline over us (which we usually consider punishment), but also (especially!) the self-discipline that heals and strengthens us for worship and service.

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We cannot ever forget that God is on our side in this endeavor. He wants you to succeed, and He wants to restore you when you fail! The Church’s liturgical prayer puts flesh on the Lord Jesus’ prayer “that all may be one” in love of God and neighbor. Nourished by the sacred Fruit of that Liturgy, we put flesh on that prayer by our daily choices.

The Church of God, To Be Precise, Welcomes You

I was startled to learn of recently-approved revisions to the Rite of Baptism of Infants. According to the Catholic News Service, it was one of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI's last decisions, along the lines of the addition of the name of St. Joseph to the second, third, and fourth Eucharistic Prayers.

What might we conclude about the nature of the Church: Were these acts a kind of eleventh-hour move for Pope Benedict? or does Holy Mother Church move so slowly that the decisions moved through the channels, finally to the Ecclesial News Desk. as late as they did? Who cares?

To review:

After the minister of Baptism asks two questions that we so often take for granted (each one post-worthy in its own right): "What name have you given your child/ren?" and, "What do you ask of God's Church for [your child/ren]?" the minister succinctly reminds the parents about the spiritual and religious responsibilities. Then he secures the parents' understanding of these, as well as the godparents' commitment to assist the parents in discharging their parental duties.

Finally, immediately before the Liturgy of the Word, the sacred minister will henceforth say the following: "[Oscar/Matilda], the Church of God welcomes you with great joy."

Previously, the rite read, "[Oscar/Matilda], the Christian community welcomes you with great joy."

Once before on this blog I modified Tip O'Neill's dictum "All politics is local" by replacing "politics" with "religion." I do not rescind that statement (although my end-of-life Retractationes will likely include many things I said from the pulpit, in classes, in beer gardens, etc.). But sometimes a little context helps.

Philosophy talks about how the universal is found in the particular (though I will leave it to the first beer garden dwellers, the philosophers, to discuss the finer points). I have a homily to finish.

In my own untutored words:
While the particular parish may happen to be the place of welcoming for little Oscar or Matilda, that parish is the local instance of the One, Holy, Catholic (kata holon, "according to the whole"), and Apostolic Church, where "what it means to participate in The Church of God" is most fully found: a parish united to its diocese, itself in communion with the Sovereign Pontiff, the Bishop of Rome.

Earlier I had received the impression that the changes to the Rite would include a brief elaboration on "the Church of God" that would include the hotly contested words, "subsists in," found in the eighth paragraph of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen Gentium; the quotation in its immediate context, along with some discussion, is lovingly lifted from Wikipedia):

This Church constituted and organized in the world as a society, subsists in the Catholic Church, which is governed by the successor of Peter and by the Bishops in communion with him, although many elements of sanctification and of truth are found outside of its visible structure. These elements, as gifts belonging to the Church of Christ, are forces impelling toward catholic unity.

Haec Ecclesia, in hoc mundo ut societas constituta et ordinata, subsistit in Ecclesia catholica, a successore Petri et Episcopis in eius communione gubernata, licet extra eius compaginem elementa plura sanctificationis et veritatis inveniantur, quae ut dona Ecclesiae Christi propria, ad unitatem catholicam impellunt.

According to my original impression, the words of the elaboration were the words in red type, but I gathered from the CNS article that the Church's Congregation for Divine Worship used those words to explain the motive for the change. (Whew!)

Had that amplification been the actual revision, the baptizing priest or deacon would be presuming of the whole assembly a basic understanding of the statement and its theological underpinnings. (Not bloody likely!) However, even if "the Church of God" is as far as it shall go, that phrase could be variously understood by all persons attending the baptism, and would therefore merit a succinct and accurate explanation by the baptizing minister. (No doubt the pre-Jordan instructor also might take the opportunity to explain the phrase!)

Properly handled, this and every word in the Liturgy can become what the Church of God's entire sacred Liturgy is: a moment for evangelization and catechesis...which might well incite some interesting dialogue after the ceremony, if anyone cares (or remembers) to discuss it.

Obiter dictum: We have bled much on the subject of "The Church of God," but theologians, priests, deacons, catechists, and other detail-dealing persons must not forget the words "welcomes you with great joy," and must endeavor to convey that joyful welcome in the celebration of Baptism and indeed in every execution of their sacred craft.

Starting with this priest.