Catholics once had an intuitive understanding of sacred space: To enter a church, especially in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, was to enter a different kind of environment, one of the hallmarks of which was a reverent silence. Some of that intuition remains. But much of it has been lost. Thus, within the past few months, I have noted three habitual behaviors, not in parishes that are otherwise sloppy in their liturgical practice, but precisely in parishes that take their liturgical life seriously:
1) The demarcation between the narthex (or, as they say in AmChurchSpeak, the “gathering space”) and the body of the church (a.k.a. the “worship space”) has been severely eroded. Conversations begun in the narthex often continue when people reach the pews; new conversations are initiated in the pews. Both types of conversation sometimes continue during the choral prelude, if there is one. In any case, the new convention seems to be that in-pew conversations are quite appropriate until the processional hymn is announced.
2) The exchange of peace, which ought to be accompanied by the briefest of greetings, often becomes the occasion for a general conversational free-for-all. This breaks the rhythm of the Liturgy of the Eucharist and is anything but conducive to the gathering of mind and spirit appropriate to the period before the reception of Holy Communion.
3) Immediately after the conclusion of the recessional hymn, conversation, often quite loud, immediately breaks out in the pews (among those, that is, who have not already bolted for the door during the recessional). Choirs who have spent time and effort preparing a choral postlude must therefore compete with a torrent of chatter that not infrequently drowns out music that has been carefully rehearsed. This chatter is both bad liturgical form and very bad manners. Attempts to remind one’s fellow congregants of the proprieties, through a pleading glance, are met with either incomprehension or hostility.
2011 could be a year in which the liturgical catechesis enjoined by Vatican II as part of the reform of the liturgy actually takes place: If pastors and parish liturgy directors see the introduction of the new English translations that will become mandatory on the First Sunday of Advent as the occasion to do what should have been done 40 years ago, and equip the saints—who have too often devolved into the liturgical chattering classes—for their part in worship. That part was beautifully defined by the fathers of Vatican II in the chapter on the holy Eucharist of the Council’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy:
“The Church … earnestly desires that Christ’s faithful, when present at this mystery of faith, should not be there as strangers. …They should give thanks to God. Offering the immaculate victim, not only through the hands of the priest but also together with him, they should learn to offer themselves.”
That offering of self takes place through silence as well as through the “full, conscious, and active participation” the Council enjoined—a “participation,” I might add, that was not envisioned as obliterating the distinction between behavior appropriate to the parish hall and behavior fitting for the body of the church. Both our participation in the liturgy and our silence should reflect the distinctiveness of the sacred space that we are privileged to share when we come into church. If there is little discernible difference in our parishes between what happens in the narthex before and after Mass and what happens in the body of the Church during Mass, something is wrong.
Pastors and liturgical directors have a great opportunity this year to re-educate Christ’s people in the nature of the liturgy. That education can be both direct and indirect: direct, by catechesis from the pulpit; indirect, by providing ample moments of silence within the liturgy. There is no reason why every available moment during Mass must be filled with speech or music; surely there ought to be moments of repose when all are allowed to listen for the “still small voice” of 1 Kings 19:12. Those moments, in turn, might help remind us that sacred space is not space for chatter.
George Weigel is Distinguished Senior Fellow of the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, D.C.
Comments:
Peace
Point 2: Isn't the kiss of peace really meant, in reference to Matthew 5, as an opportunity for people who have an actual relationship wherein an actual hurt has recently occurred, to be able to forgive one another before receiving communion WORTHILY? Thus I have no reason to exchange the kiss with Jane Doe.
Reverent silence is a rare thing, even for many consecrated religious. A few years ago on a pilgrimage to the places dear to our order, I stood at the site of our founder's birth. I desperately wanted silence, but the 40 other sisters were chatting away. I asked the leader if our visit structured in some quiet time. Oh no, she said, people don't want that. It's a remote area so I walked out beyond the edge of the village into the night. Alone, in silence, I gazed upon the same Milky Way that Dominic beheld centuries ago.
Many a Mass begins with Father processing down the aisle, waving like he's on a parade float. Then there is the cheery "Good Morning/Evening." At the end, before returning to parade participant mode, Father gives us a little joke that would be embarassing at a Rotarian luncheon. There may even be the occasion when Father feels it is necessary to accentuate the point of his sermon by tossing tennis balls into the congregation, or having everyone do the wave. (These are based on actual experiences -- I'm sure others have seen far worse.) All of this takes place in a building that, with modest, inexpensive changes, could easily become a gymnasium, or restaurant. It could even be subdivided to provide business offices, without anyone ever discerning its original use.
Change starts with the Pastor setting the proper tone and example with the reverential and faithful praying of the Mass. He can also include gentle reminders in the church bulletin, and even from the pulpit (oh, sorry, lecturn) about respecting the prayer time of our Brothers and Sisters by keeping the chatty moments outside the "worship space."
At the next parish (English) I had to leave because the priest expressed how pleased he was that a Catholic he knew was marrying a Muslim and was converting to Islam.
At yet another parish (Spanish) the priest expressed how happy he was that a Florida pastor was not going to burn the Koran. A very devout appearing lady immediately blurted out at the small gathering for a mass that all religions are the same, and the priest said nothing. I felt obligated and blurted out that they were not but the priest did not back this in his homily. Later I stayed for a prayer meeting after the mass. There were no priests at the very crowded prayer meeting. Yet women paraded the Eucharist around the temple. I never returned.
I moved on to yet another parish (English) where a permanent altar had been affixed and located outdoors but no one knelt. The first couple of times I knelt at its kneeling rail by myself and was given communion. After doing this for 3-4 daily masses the woman distributing communion for the priest stopped giving it to me and I had to stand at the communion line where people received it standing up. There was hardly a distinction between sacred and ordinary space here. People would parade right by the altar, stroll by with baby carriages, as if walking in a zoo.
I finally picked a parish (English) that had an adoration chapel reasoning that they might know better. It is great to be able to visit the tiny adoration chapel except when you turn around and see someone playing with his cellphone. Inside the larger temple, the ushers talk in a loud voice until mass begins and as parishioners walk inside the temple they greet and even exchange with each other from one side of the church to the other. One woman who takes consecrated hosts out of the tabernacle don't even kneel. The pastor does not kneel either; he just bows. On Christmas he explained that Jesus didn't consider sexual sins as serious as sins against love, as if they weren't. Last week he explained that obeying the law was not important; only the interior life. Accordingly, he explained, one should not come to Sunday mass because it was an obligation, but because one wanted to meet Jesus. That sounds great except that it isn't right or true, or the teaching of the Magisterium, or even consistent with the ten commandments. He should know that love is not a fleeting sentiment but an act of willing the Good as God has willed. So where should one go to church if one is a Roman Catholic in South Florida?
A good place to start is a book by Fr. Robert Taft, SJ, the eminent liturgical historian, "Through Their Own Eyes: Liturgy as the Byzantines Saw It" (http://www.amazon.com/Through-Their-Own-Eyes-Byzantines/dp/1932401067), in which the testimony of the Fathers reveals noisy, unruly throngs who viewed liturgy as a form of entertainment, who liked to cheer (and boo) the homilist, and who took advantage of the Kiss of Peace (apparently a never-ending source of scandal) as an opportunity for lascivious advances with the opposite sex.
Much of church layout in late antiquity was intended for crowd control: the placement of the bema in the center of the church, connected to the sanctuary by an elevated causeway, was to allow the movement of readers and the celebrants back and forth without being mauled. John Chrysostom installed a barrier down the center of the great church of Hagia Sophia and segregated the congregation by sex, men on one side of the barrier, women on the other, in order to cut down on licentious behavior. Chrysostom also regularly upbraided his congregation for applauding and cheering during his homilies. After he castigated them, they stood and cheered louder than ever.
Nor was unruly behavior limited to the Christian East. There are plenty of examples from the West as well, often reflected in ancient canonical prohibitions (one does not legislate against that which is not happening). So when one finds a canon prohibiting the stabling of livestock in the sanctuary, one does have to wonder.
All it tells me is people are people, and that human nature never changes. Fourteen centuries from now, if Christ has not yet come again in glory, someone will be writing a very similar article condemning the behavior of the people in church. Be grateful they are there at all.
Your pastor is absolutely correct, regardless of what the "magisterium" might say. We in the Greek Catholic Churches, following the example of our Orthodox brethren, dislike the legalistic overtones of the word "obligation", preferring that people attend the divine liturgy not out of compulsion but because they wish to be loving children of God and become united more closely with them. We would say, come because it is good for you, not come because it is the law, violations thereof will be punished severely. It's kind of hard to reconcile this attitude of law and obligation with the words of John Chrysostom's Paschal Homily":
If anyone has labored from the first hour, let them today receive the just reward.
If anyone has come at the third hour, with thanksgiving let them feast.
If anyone has arrived at the sixth hour, let them have no misgivings; for they shall suffer no loss.
If anyone has delayed until the ninth hour, let them draw near without hesitation.
If anyone has arrived even at the eleventh hour, let them not fear on account of tardiness.
For the Master is gracious and receives the last even as the first; he gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, just as to him who has labored from the first.
He has mercy upon the last and cares for the first; to the one he gives, and to the other he is gracious.
He both honors the work and praises the intention.
Enter all of you, therefore, into the joy of our Lord, and, whether first or last, receive your reward.
O rich and poor, one with another, dance for joy!
O you ascetics and you negligent, celebrate the day!
You that have fasted and you that have disregarded the fast, rejoice today!
The table is rich-laden; feast royally, all of you!
The calf is fatted; let no one go forth hungry!
Let all partake of the feast of faith. Let all receive the riches of goodness.
Let no one lament their poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed.
Let no one mourn their transgressions, for pardon has dawned from the grave.
Let no one fear death, for the Saviour's death has set us free.
Those who do not "get" the Latin Rite, the eloquence of faith, may not understand the yearning of many post Vatican II to have the solace of the Church, then if you needed a priest, one was always in Church reading his office; and non I knew were strange.
I pray the "New Missal" will answer that need. This exercise Catholics gave in the past, allowed for a time in a very not so different world, the Glory of God, and ability to give thanks. Those so askew to the "extraordinary" may have not have had that transcendent experience, or just are mad at the Catholic Church.
Sic transit Gloria
Thank you very much. I will look into the traditional Latin rite at the parishes in the directory you so kindly provided. Indeed, I had been looking for them. Thank you very much.
In Christ,
Tomás
(pseudonym)
TeaPot562
The most awful experience of this happened at a Confirmation Mass, where the chattering never stopped throughout the whole Mass. For the most part, the people there were likely persons that never ever attended a liturgy, save a family event like a Baptism or First communion.
It was pretty bad on other Sundays, where my brother and I would ask people (usually it was only those who were old enough to be my grandparents or parents) who stood around and chatted and laughed rather loudly after Mass, while all the Mass goers who were going to the following Mass were entering for their own prayer time.
Most parishes I have gone to don't seem to have a huge amount of trouble with this, at least I see more frequently a minimal whisper. I think it is worth addressing at this sort of opportunity.
Sheesh.
Let's look at #2, just as an example. "The exchange of peace, which ought to be accompanied by the briefest of greetings..." Really? Why? Why could not an African congregation, or a Chinese one, or a Virginian one decide otherwise? What would be the theological basis of forbidding that? I will assert that some people just like it that way, and are annoyed that the other people have the ascendance. "...a general conversational free-for-all." No hyperbole or a bit of a sneer in that? "This breaks the rhythm..." Whose rhythm? Does this mean anything other than "It just doesn't feel right?" "...is anything but conducive to the gathering of mind and spirit..." Apparently, not for you. Do you know that this is true for others? Must they have your experience, or appear to, in order to have the correct one?
I visited a chapel at Stina de Vale in Romania. Three women were on their knees, praying with foreheads near the floor (rather loudly). A woman stared at an icon, murmuring. A small choir of nuns chanted. A priest mouthed what I had assumed was the Orthodox equivalent of a private mass at the altar, but then several present went forth to receive the Eucharist. None seemed the least distracted by what anyone else was doing.
The Shoulds and Oughts here are deeply felt, but not well-examined.
Yes, people should be cognizant of others who are at pray, before or after the Liturgy , and yes it is a Sacred Space but Churches have always been utilized for things other than Worship (in some cases, even the Eucharistic Tabernacle, is emptied);such things as Wedding rehearsals, Communion and Confirmation class rehearsals, even Choir rehearsals, etc. David entered the "Sacred Space" for refuge and later, w/his men, even ate of the reserved bread as they fled from their enemies. This is something Jesus Himself reminded the pharisees who criticized His followers. Let's not judge others by our standards for make an honest judgement, i.e., "who are you to judge your neighbor?"
Works for me, Arty. But if it doesn't work for you, try reading Pope John Paul II's pastoral letter Orientale Lumen, which explains much.
Well, it's actually the "Kiss of Peace", and if you are going to have the congregation do it, then that's what it should be--the classic embrace, kiss on the right cheek, kiss on the left cheek (and maybe back to the right cheek for good measure). The only Church I have attended in which the Kiss was exchanged in this was was the Assyrian Church of the East, which preserves the oldest stratum of the Tradition. The other Churches long ago limited the Kiss to the clergy, because (as John Chrysostom observed), it was becoming an occasion of scandal (which is why he put the men on one side of the aisle and the women on the other). Why the Latin Church saw fit to restore it to the congregation, I don't know--but to substitute a handshake for a kiss destroys the symbolism of the act (a handshake being a greeting between business associates or casual acquaintances, and not brothers and sisters), so why not just abolish it?
"I visited a chapel at Stina de Vale in Romania. Three women were on their knees, praying with foreheads near the floor (rather loudly). A woman stared at an icon, murmuring. A small choir of nuns chanted. A priest mouthed what I had assumed was the Orthodox equivalent of a private mass at the altar, but then several present went forth to receive the Eucharist. None seemed the least distracted by what anyone else was doing."
In all likelihood what you saw was the Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts, a service that the Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches celebrate during Lent in place of the Divine Liturgy on weekdays. It consists of Great Vespers with a communion service added to the end, using particles of Prosphora that were consecrated the preceding Sunday. There is no such thing as "private Mass" in the Orthodox Church, and there is no kneeling during the Divine Liturgy--though many prostrations during the Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts.
So INSTEAD, we have ANNOUNCEMENTS right after communion.
I hold my Lord in my heart. He is my Blessed, my heart's desire, my Beloved. "Raffle tickets for the men's breakfast will be sold in the back hall after Mass." God is my salvation, my soul-mate, my heart's love. He is like a lover, who holds me after our deepest fulfillment of uniting love. I am swept away in His embrace. "Next Sunday there will be a pancake breakfast run by the cubscouts."
We wonder why churches are empty, why the people do not get it, why worship seems 'distracted'?!
Why must we be so concerned with what our neighbor is or isn't doing? Peace and quiet absolutely must begin within if/since Jesus does reside there. With that beginning, one can find many ways to accept/excuse/understand his/her fellow Christian who is not yet so far along as he/she is.
give it much thought! Every pastor who cares about his flock should remind
them that the most precious time in every mass is the time they quietly commune
with their Lord...after he ( the priest) has left the sanctuary and retreated
quietly to the sacristy where he too will be offering his private Thanksgiving.
I don't know what went on in the early Church...I was not there! But that is
not an excuse for our own sometimes really boorish behaviour. We need to
remind ourselves of proper etiquette when in a sacred place. If others don't
know better that does not excuse ourselves. As Christians we are always
called upon to give example by our own behavior! Also, every mass (prior to Vatican II) ended with a prayer to St Michael the Archangel..at the request of Pope Leo XIII who had visions of this day when great abuses within the
Church would take place. Thus he composed this prayer to be said by all
Catholics everywhere at the end of each Mass. Since the pratice was stopped,
all Hell, it would seem has broken out in our Church! It might be time to resume this practice...at least it would cut down on 99% of the problems mentioned here...and might even give the spiritual aide so needed in our times. It is time
for the showing of some "spine" here by our shepherds in disciplinin their flock and forget about being entertainers par excellence!
Please don't wait for me in the parking lot with baseball bats because I ignored the content which was analyzed copiously by the other commentators.
Peace be with all.
teach their children at home. So too with the schools, like I say, it all starts with
grade school.
Where I go to church there are pews where you see the same people
sit every sunday. Some do it for convenience to they can rush out to their cars after
the final blessing, some "reserve" their pews because it is closer to the altar, some because they sit at the back and therefore can come after the gospel without feeling
"guilty". There are pews in the middle too that are occupied by people who do not
want to hear the latest gossip or over-active tots ( who came from the back rows)
and want to keep a visual of the priest during the mass.
Speaking of the latin mass, we used have that in the early sixties and though it is a
more solemn version of the mass, it is not so much the ambiance that completes the
celebration but more of what the worshipper brings to the worship. I believe all masses eastern or western owe their existeence to the original eucharistic celebration, last supper. Imagine what that was like. Just my 2 cents.
He can be both, you know.
give it much thought! "
As my post about Fr. Serge's observations of a major New York church in the heyday of the Tridentine Church, not to mention those of St. John Chrysostom and the other Fathers of the Church indicate, abuses proliferate in every age and time. Also, I have no doubt that catechesis is poor in many dioceses--but it has always been poor, in all ages and times.
As for the the canard that the majority of Roman Catholics do not believe in the real presence (by the way, what other kind of presence is there?), I don't believe it for a second. The inability to recite, verbatim, the CCC's definition of the Eucharistic presence does not indicate disbelief that Bread and the Wine truly become the Body and Blood of Christ.
It's also a rather, um, parochial view of Catholic theology. If you asked me, or my priest the same question, we would fail--yet I assure you we both firmly believe that Christ is truly present in the consecrated Gifts. After all, our pre-communion prayer includes the line, "O Lord, I believe and profess that this which I am about to receive is truly your most pure Body and life-giving Blood, which I pray, make me worthy to receive for the forgiveness of all my sins and for life everlasting, Amen."
But our answer would be graded down, for sure, for we would both say that Christ is mystically present in the Eucharistic offerings, which are transformed into His Body and Blood through the descent and action of the Holy Spirit. As long as someone is willing to profess that which he receives is truly Christ's Body and Blood, I don't give a fig for philosophical speculation. And that's all the Scholastic doctrine of transubstantiation is--philosophical speculation. The Fathers would be appalled at any such attempt to diagram the hydraulics of divine grace.
Personally, my favorite church-time is about two hours before Mass: before the choir arrives, before the lines form for the confessor, and before the bustle of people doing the things that people do in great numbers: make noise.
As a religion author, George Weigel doesn't need me to tell him when to find a quiet church, but I have to wonder why he's on the bandwagon for one-stop spiritual shopping. Some people seem to want to go to Mass, talk to God, enjoy delicious silence, drop off their tithe, and bustle their kids off to faith formation while they enjoy a 25-cent donut and coffee. It's a nice picture of pastoral convenience, but is it *reasonable*?
Speaking of "AmChurchSpeak," I'd say that Mr Weigel has produced a classic piece of MaChurchSpeak: expecting an authority figure (perhaps his favorite pope?) to come down hard on all those naughty boys and girls interrupting pious eyes raised to heaven (the eye-roll of the dutiful son?)
Ah, the rose colored glasses come out at last.
But I read the Orthodox women you recommended, and, lo and behold, it turns out power rears its ugly head after all. You challenged me to look at the lecturers at the Orthodox Women’s Conference to see whether they were “simpering, downtrodden women” who feel “unduly constrained.”
You directed me to read Shevzov, Ledkovsky, Kizenko, and Ermolaev, and it turns out that all four joined 77 others in protesting the lack of women’s voices at an all-Diaspora council merely because tradition dictated that they should be excluded: “It is inconsistent with this legacy that the historical precedent of no female delegates at past Sobors overrides the clear living reality that women are an integral part of ROCOR.”
And you taught me that the Orthodox revere “Tradition” as the matrix of all. What happened to that?
They observe that “While the Council organizing committee felt that there was too little time to consider the inclusion of women, sporting and scout associations were summoned to send delegates. This indicates that the Church does not hold in high regard the contributions and worth of its female members.”
I’m betting the organizing committee was all-male, but you tell me that the Orthodox don’t talk about power the way “medieval clerics” like me do and that women have enormous respect in Orthodoxy. But these women point out that the Orthodox Church “shuts us out when it comes to making momentous decisions.”
The same website (St. Nina Quarterly) that included the open letter signed by four of the women you held up as serious, committed Orthodox also included an article by Maria Gwyn McDowell arguing for women’s ordination.
You called Roman Catholic women asking for ordination “harridans” and described the Orthodox Karras as “one of those perpetually aggrieved women” with “a rather large chip on her shoulder and a truculent look in her eye.” What will you say now about your Orthodox exemplars Shevzov, Ledkovsky, Kizenko, and Ermolaev?
What will you say to the young married woman who wrote in a discussion forum that “I was actually teased by a priest because I could not enter the Altar to venerate the relics he had in the Altar because I was a woman. My husband, God bless him, was kind enough to bring them to the altar door so that I could venerate them. Again, I was humiliated (and in front of several priests-- none of whom stood up for me), and was feeling lower than dirt for being a woman. What are we to do when our clergy themselves are furthering this type of thinking? This is the exact type of thinking that makes women in the Church feel that they are worth less than men, to feel that the Church has no place for them, to have all kinds of negative feelings that even I, who obviously know better, have struggled with.”
Obviously you've never lived in a farm or mill town, where the working men, in their work clothes, get up and go to Mass before going to work. Or perhaps a mine town, where the men, filthy from the pits, go back to the church for vespers.
Me, I've never cared much how people dress, provided it was modest. Maybe if your services were as long as ours (Orthros plus Divine Liturgy on Sunday can easily exceed three hours), and if you had to stand for all of it, you would discover the virtues of loose clothing and comfortable shoes. Khouria Frederica Matthewes-Green has a primer on the subject in her book "Facing East".
Not nearly old fashioned enough. I wouldn't just ditch the guitars, I would get rid of the organ and have the whole Mass chanted. That is, after all, the normative form assumed by the rubrics.
At my parish, nobody chattered. About five minutes before the Mass began, the music director would instruct everyone in the nicest possible way to shut up and turn off their cell phones. Granted, you could always count on one fool -- but only one -- to forget.
Once, I was that fool. It was nine-fifteen on a Sunday morning. Nobody who wants to remain my friend dares call me at such an early hour. Shutting off the phone seemed unecessary. When my ring tone -- Kanye West's "Gold Digger," in case anyone's curious -- cut through the Eucharistic hymn, I swatted at my hip pocket till it stopped, and wanted very badly to disappear. After that, I made it a point to leave my phone in the car.
A few people ate and ran, so to speak. But the overwhelming majority stuck around until the very end of the recessional hymn. Me, I sought the Golden Mean. As soon as the presiding priest spoke the words "This Mass is ended," I'd have my cigarette in my mouth. But I waited until he'd made it through the door before bolting out to smoke it.
And yet, somehow, I doubt we'd pass muster with some of the sharper-eyed scolds around here. Tomas (who, I have to say, sounds like a nonstop joy to be around) would surely find things to offend him. To put it simply, there was nothing cramped or somber about the mood; on the contrary, we worshipped with a sort of controlled exuberance. Though we kept it zipped during the service itself, we talked -- I won't say chattered; I, for one, never found our conversation especially mindless -- both before and afterward. Signs of peace were effusive. People would nod to each other on the Communion line. If the Eucharistic minister happened to be a friend, you could expect to get a special smile along with the Blessed Sacrament.
Nobody ever spelled it out, but the sense was that we were going to meet God, that we were doing it together, and that God would not throw a jealous fit if we were to take open pleasure in another's company during the journey. Probably, that attitude will give liturgical experts gray hairs. Be that as it may, it was that feeling of community that made Communion feel real, that gave tangible reality to an abstract conceptt. When I look back, it's the thing I miss most.
I may be an ignoramus, but for me, professionalism means doing the best work you possibly can, and reverence means approaching God with a sincere heart, and a little bit of common courtesy.
Who knows? Maybe I'll see you someday at a bazouki Mass.


