Reading Francis' Christmas Tea Leaves --Pretty Much Down the Middle

Pope Francis’ Christmas Mass gave some interesting insights as to the tone he is setting for the Church.  The first thing I noticed was how few cardinals and bishops were there in their “choir dress”—white rochet with scarlet or violet (depending on respective rank) cassock, mozetta, and biretta. Then I noticed the exceptionally large number of concelebrants and recognized a number of familiar faces—including Cardinal Burke—among them.  The prelates, for the greater part, concelebrated rather than sit in state as members of the capella papale.  Concelebrating more or less levels the playing field among the prelates as once you put them in their liturgical vestments the marks of their individual station disappear. It also eliminates the dramatic entrances with gentlemen ushers leading the prelates to their gilt chairs while Swiss Guards snap to salute and fawning clergy push to kiss rings and pay court.  But the number of concelebrants was much greater than the normal number of prelates attached to the papal household and I realized at communion time that the Holy Father had invited the priests who were there to administer Holy Communion to concelebrate as well.  Their vestments were simpler than those of the prelates but it was still a great honor for these priests to be more than just functionaries but to be invited to concelebrate with the Holy Father.  More to the point, however, is that it shows a distinct theology both of Church and of the Sacrament of Orders, a theology founded in the Conciliar documents but not previously put into practice.  There were no cardinals and archbishops and monsignors and “just plain priests.”  There were bishops and there were presbyters, each functioning according not to their position in the hierarchy but according to their sacramental Order.  The positions of honor were laid aside in favor of the Sacrament of Orders and this is a favorable step to simplifying the liturgy and moving away from the pomp that characterized the old rites.  I am not a big fan of clericalism—don’t get me wrong—but bishops are bishops and presbyters, presbyters, and deacons, deacons, and the faithful, the faithful, and catechumens, catechumens. Each “order” has its function and while no one should lord it over another—the orders don’t need to be seen as ranked—it is appropriate that each serve its proper role(s) in the liturgy.   Readers and cantors and acolytes are among the ministries drawn from the faithful. Deacons proclaim the Gospel and administer the Cup in Holy Communion.  Presbyters assist the bishop(s); in their absence they preside over the Liturgy.  Bishops preside over the liturgy.  Each in the ministry proper to his or her order, the Church sacramentally displays its nature as the Body of Christ with the complementariness and variety of members working in harmony and unity.  Francis’ Christmas liturgy modeled that admirably with lay readers and choristers and altar servers alongside deacons, presbyters, and bishops.  Personally I think it is far more noble than those “Pontifical” Masses I see on certain websites with all the fuss and bother and pomp that mimics a royal court rather than re-presents the unity and harmony of the Body of the One who came to serve and not to be served.  Francis, in his plain white vestments, at the center of Christmas Eve Mass was a simple reminder of the mission that belongs to each of us and to all of us—to be Christ the Servant to the World.  The genius of the classic Roman Rite in antiquity was its simplicity—in contrast to the Eastern and Gallican Rites—and I am happy to see Francis keep things simple.
The Holy Father, as is his custom, only distributed Holy Communion to the deacons assisting at the Mass.  He did not distribute it to the faithful.  This is disappointing but it is said that he refrains at public Masses in the Basilica from distributing Holy Communion so as not to get caught in the conflict between those who think he should follow the protocol of his predecessor, Pope Benedict, and insist that communicants kneel and receive on the tongue and those who follow the almost universal practice today of communion standing and giving the communicant the option of receiving in the hand or on the tongue.  Before his election as Pope, Francis had no issue with standing for Communion or placing the Blessed Sacrament in the hands of the recipient.   There is no discouraging of the faithful from receicing the Eucharist in their hands under Francis.  Those priests who were appointed to administer Holy Communion to the congregation, administered communion to the faithful standing and according to their choice of on the tongue or in the hand.  But I have to say—have often been at papal Masses both in the Basilica and in the Square—that no matter how they distribute the Eucharist it is nothing short of sacrilegious.  Probably the most important reform of the papal liturgy would be to find a respectful way to give communion to these huge crowds.      
The Holy Father does not sing the various parts of the Mass, but then the word is that he does not have the voice to sing them.  It is just as well then that he prays them.  It is also noteworthy that he carried the very modern ferula (pastoral staff) of Paul VI, not the more traditional one Benedict XVI designed and favored.  The Pope uses each staff in turn, but the choice of the simpler (and more modern one) for Christmas Mass is worth noting.    The Mass certainly was a move away from the more elaborate liturgical style of Pope Benedict XVI and a return to the more simple tastes of Paul VI. 
Overall, whether one’s taste runs to the traditional or the contemporary.  Francis is no liturgical fireball.  He is, after all, a Jesuit and Jesuits have not been known for good liturgy. I wish the papal liturgies were a bit more innovative, but my primary concern is not about the liturgy—it is about the Church’s Mission of announcing Good News to the Poor.  That Francis does well.  However, I do believe in the old axiom, lex orandi, lex credendi which reminds us that ultimately the Liturgy shapes not only what we believe but even how we live our faith.  I think that Pope Francis has a sufficiently prayerful approach to liturgy and that works for me. 

Of Tim Tebow and Christmas Trees in the Park

The Christmas Tree in the Place

Notre Dame--just because it is in front

of the Cathedral doesn't make it a

symbol of Christian faith

I am not keen on this Tebow thing.  I don’t mean Tim—he’s fine, seems not only to play good ball but to be a very good man—but this prayer thing.  I don’t go for it.  The bible verse in eye black or whatever is fine.  Talking about Jesus is fine.  It is just that I think Jesus had a point when he said
“When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward  But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret.  And your Father, who sees in secret will repay you.   (Matt 6:5-6)
     It is like those people who in a communion line need to drop to their knees just to show the world that they take Jesus more seriously than the rest of us luke-warm believers who follow the established procedure and remain standing to receive.  Nevertheless, even though I think the public displays of piety are indicative of a psycho-spiritual immaturity I want to defend Tim Tebow’s choice to publicly demonstrate his faith.  Rabbi Joshua Hammerman recently attacked Tebow’s public religiosity making the ridiculous claim that it can lead to “insane things, like burning mosques, bashing gays and indiscriminately banishing immigrants.”  Rabbi Hammerman retracted his statement and his column was pulled from the internet but the point had been made.  There are a lot of people in our society that want to see religion banished from the “public square.”  And this brings us back into the conversation about the crèche on the Courthouse lawn in Leesburg VA.   By the way,lil’ ol’ country town Leesburg isn’t the only place having this dispute.  Big ol’ California Gay Town Santa Monica is embroiled in it as well, but we will save that for future entries. 
     In looking at our Founding Fathers and the “Christian Nation” issue we need to differentiate between the “Public Square” and “The State,” or as we should call it for clarity—government.  A County Courthouse lawn is not only public space, it is government space.  A Courthouse lawn represents, symbolizes, like the Courthouse itself, the institution of government.  The same can be said for a State Capitol (or the U.S. Capitol),  government office buildings, the public lawns and chambers of official residences, embassies or other space where government functions.  This can be differentiated from publically owned (but governmentally administered) spaces such as streets or  public parks.  Government space, I think, should be free of religious (or anti-religion) symbols.  Public space, on the other hand, should be open to the public with equal access to all.  I don’t think that a crèche or a Menorah or an atheist slogan belongs in government space but I also think it is wrong to bar Muslims or atheists or Buddhists from erecting displays where Christians or Jews are so permitted to place their symbols.  There are those in our society who want religion to be restricted to the private sphere.  They would maintain that there should be no public displays of any religious symbols.  That is a restriction upon religious freedom.  While there are some religious groups who themselves see religion as a private matter—Quakers, for example—and while there are religions such as Judaism whose rites are traditionally practiced in the privacy of home and synagogue, there are other religions, Christianity being one, whose rites are meant to be public and to attempt to restrict their practice to behind closed doors is to inhibit their religious freedoms.  So Tim—I think you need to give Matthew 6:5-7 some thought, but if you want to showboat your religious faith I will defend your right to do so. 
     And before we move on from the subject of religious displays, there is need for one more clarification and that is between religious symbols and societal symbols.  A crèche is a religious symbol, a “Christmas Tree” has nothing to do with Christian faith.  “Christmas” is actually an amalgamation of two celebrations.  There is a Christian holyday.  A wreath with four candles, a crèche, a star, wisemen on camels, shepherds, Silent Night, a Saintly Bishop Nicholas,  or a good king Wenceslaus—all these symbolize the Christian feast.  There is also what anthropologists might call a “solstice celebration.”  The days are getting longer; the spell of winter is broken.  Christmas trees, candy canes, a fat man in a red suit with presents, strings of lights—these are about the solstice celebration.  Now not everybody chooses to celebrate the solstice.  That is a choice they make. They have no right to begrudge others having a glass of eggnog (or even getting snockered) while toasting the earth’s change of tilt.  But celebrating or not celebrating the solstice is not the same as celebrating or not celebrating the birth of Jesus.  There are plenty of people who don’t regard Jesus as anything more than pious fiction but who are into celebrating the solstice.  Personally, I would like to find a way about celebrating the birth of Jesus without having to get trapped in the solstice thing.  But don’t denigrate my religious faith by saying that a light-covered tree or an overweight elf represents my religious convictions.  I don’t need to see the baby Jesus at the Mall but don’t scream because there is a Christmas Tree in the town square.                 

  

Of Gnostics, Carmelites, the Incarnation, and Communion in the Hand

Two Carmelites, sisters by blood as well as in religious

life, at the Detroit Conference

I mentioned in the last entry that heresy sometimes lurks just beneath the surface of trumpeted orthodoxy.  Let me give an example.  Some years ago I was in Detroit to do some research on the infamous Father Coughlin who had a very popular radio show in the 1930’s which he used as a platform to attack Franklin Roosevelt  as well as to proclaim his anti-Semitic views.  I was staying, courtesy of a friend of mine, at a retreat center run by the Passionists.  Coughlin was very popular with a large segment of the American people though he was a huge embarrassment to the Church.  Coughlin had no endorsement from the Archbishop of Detroit –to the contrary.  The Osservatore Romano, the semi-official Vatican newspaper condemned him in 1935, but Coughlin remained popular with anti-Roosevelt Americans, Catholics and Protestants alike.   Cardinal Pacelli, papal Secretary of State discussed the matter with American officials on his 1936 visit to they United States but was unable to silence him.  Cardinal Mooney was appointed to Detroit in 1937 with the mandate to silence him but was unable.  American Catholics are notorious for listening not to the Church but to those voices in the Church with which they agree.  There must be something in the water in Motown as we currently have Michael Voris setting himself up against the hierarchy with his “Real Catholic TV.”   O well, I digress. 
     While I was staying at the Passionist Retreat Center there was a conference of Carmelite nuns going on—a meeting of about a hundred cloistered nuns—mostly the Prioresses (mothers superior) and Formation Directors (novice-mistresses) of various monasteries in the United States and Canada, though I did see some younger nuns with the white veils of novices.  It was interesting seeing these women outside their monasteries.  They were anything but a somber group.  There was much laughter and a strong sense of family.  They looked very traditional—almost all in the same habit their predecessors had worn  for centuries though a few had modified veils that showed a wisp of hair.  They were very serious when it came time for prayer and it was a privilege to attend their Mass each morning.  I served the Mass—or rather I served the old priest who celebrated the Mass for them each morning.  I was surprised to note that at communion not a single nun received communion on the tongue.  Young and old, reverent all, but each nun extended her hands to receive Holy Communion.  I mentioned this one day at lunch—I had my meals with them in the retreat dining room—and the nuns at the table all thought for a moment and then began to discuss it.  They had never given it much thought, they agreed, it just seemed natural to them.  Then one older nun—the prioress of a Carmel on the West Coast—said “Well, why wouldn’t we?  The Incarnation is the central mystery of our lives.  Holy Mother (Saint Teresa of Avila) says that we should meditate on either the Passion or the Incarnation.  When you meditate on the Word Becoming Flesh, you burn with desire to hold the Flesh of the Lord for yourself.    In this sacrament, his Flesh becomes our Flesh and our Flesh becomes his.  Why should be afraid to touch him?  He is our Spouse, the deepest Desire of our being.”  I was impressed at her fervor as well as her insight.
     Several years before while in Minneapolis I had been taken to hear a young priest, a Father Robert Altier, who at the time was something of a seven day wonder.  Father Altier drew huge crowds to Saint Agnes Church where he celebrated what at the time was the “indult” mass.  A college buddy of mine who had just returned to the Church after three “marriages” (only one of them with a woman if you get my drift)  would go only to Saint Agnes.  Saint Agnes with the Latin Mass facing the wall represented the Church he had left forty years ago and it was the only Church to which he was willing to go back now that he had religion again. (That is the danger in being a historian: the temptation is to restore the past, a futile effort, rather than build the future on the past.)   Father Altier told us in his talk that day—it wasn’t a sermon but a talk in the hall after mass as I recall—that receiving Communion in the hand was “an abomination, a sacrilege”  The Blessed Mother, he assured us, had never received Communion in the hand.  I almost laughed out loud.  She who had changed Jesus’ diaper (I could use a more graphic phrase) was too awestruck to take his flesh in her hand in Holy Communion?   Who is this Christ in Whom this young priest believed?  Is it the Christ of the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon, the Christ whose human nature is preserved intact in the hypostatic union?  Or does this Christ have a different sort of human nature than we do?  Sure he is “consubstantial” with the Father according to his Divinity.  What I wonder if people believe is whether he is “consubstantial” with us regarding his humanity?  Here again is Gnosticism lurking behind orthodox piety.  It is perfectly all right to receive Communion on the tongue if that your choice, but can we say that it is wrong or sacrilegious to receive Christ in our hands?   If so, what is that implying about human nature?  What is that saying about material creation?  Beneath such “orthodoxy” lurks some very dark beliefs. 

Why history?

Let’s take a time out from the march of history and talk about "why do a history blog?". There are many voices around claiming to have a monopoly on what it means to be a Catholic. There are web presences like “Trinity Communications” that “rate” sites for their Catholic “orthodoxy.” There are sites like “Restore DC Catholicism,” “The Defender,” “The Saint Catherine Review,” “The Cardinal Newman Society,” “The Catholic Media Coalition,” “Catholic Citizens of Illinois” Michael Voris and “Real Catholic T.V.” and dozens of others who claim to be authentic Catholic voices yet are no more than the opinionated voices of individuals or groups who very often use a “Catholic” identity to mask other agendas—political, economic, or social. Their particular views on Catholicism and misrepresentations of our Catholic Tradition is best countered by a knowledge of the history of the Church which shows just how rich and varied our Catholic heritage and Tradition is. Very often Catholics think that the Church into which many of us were born and in which we grew up—the American Catholicism of the 1950’s—represents historic Catholicism. Well it does, sort of. It was one flower on the abundant vine of the Catholic Church, a flower of a very different color or scent than the Catholicism of medieval France or that of seventh-century Ireland or that of second century Rome. Things that we thought always and everywhere were: Mass in Latin, celibacy for the clergy, papal infallibility, seven sacraments, confession, kneeling at mass, communion on the tongue, nuns in habits, calling priest “Father” never were either “always” nor “everywhere.” History can shed a very different light on things. One might be surprised to know that “Mr. Carroll,” as our first bishop was known to his contemporaries, normally wore ordinary clothes in public—granted, of a dark color and with out ornamentation; pews in church were a Protestant innovation, Kneeling at Sunday Mass was banned by the same Council that gave us the Creed we recite on Sundays, and communion rails were an Anglican custom that we borrowed. It surprises people to know that even before Vatican II, the papal altars in the four Roman basilicas always “faced the people,” that Vincent de Paul wanted his Daughters of Charity to live in rented apartments not convents, and that Thomas Aquinas did not believe in the Immaculate Conception. Our history can be very enlightening, very freeing, and also show us that many of the “changes” of the last forty years are not “innovations” but restorations of more ancient practices of the Church. So that is one reason to do a blog like this. Some of us believe in real “Tradition” and know there was a Catholic Church long before there was a Baltimore Catechism and even before there was a Roman Missal. Our image today is a medieval sculpture from the facade of Lucca Catheral showing mass facing the people 500 years before the Second Vatican Council.