OK--What Is The Agenda Behind Cardinal Sarah and the "Ad Orientatem" Movement? II

In the previous posting, I laid out a theology of priesthood rooted in the Patristic tradition of the Church,  but  before moving on to Cardinal Sarah, the back-asswards Mass, and what is the underlying agenda I want to flesh out that patristic theology a bit more. 

Now, as I have often said, while I have a graduate degree in theology, I am not a theologian but a historian.  This may be why I prefer patristic theology to the scholastic, neo-scholastic, post-scholastic and—most common today—pseudo-scholastic theology.  When you work with the Fathers, you are working with historical texts. A historian can skim across the patristic pond without too much danger of falling in if he or she just stays with the sources. 

What I think we need to look at to grasp the patristic approach to the Priesthood, whether the priesthood of the faithful or the specific priestly ministry of the ordained, as a participation in the Priesthood of Jesus Christ is the precise nature of the Christian assembly as the Body of Christ.

Paul makes at least 17 references in his epistles to the Church being the Body of Christ and this relationship between the Church and her Lord is rooted in the Resurrection.  We must first erase from our consciousness the inherently false vision of the Resurrection with which we have all been raised.  First and foremost, the Resurrection of Jesus Christ was in no way the resuscitation of a corpse.  It was not like the Raising of Lazarus, or the daughter of Jairus, or the son of the Widow of Naim.  In those cases a person who had been dead was brought back to life.  Paul makes it clear that the Resurrection of Christ—an absolutely unique phenomenon in history-to-date—is a new creation.  This is not to say that the physical body of the man who had been Jesus of Nazareth is still decomposing somewhere outside Jerusalem, but rather that Christ who is raised from the dead is both radically that same Jesus and yet is equally radically transformed in a new order of being, one that foreshadows a new order of being to which we are all called in the parousia. 

The second thing we must reconsider is the meaning of death.  For the Christian the moment of death and the passage to new life is not at the time of our corporeal shut-down but rather the moment of our baptism.  In baptism we have surrendered our lives and embraced death and in baptism we are raised to newness of life—to participation in that new order of being with Christ.  We are members of his Body.  Paul does not mean this metaphorically—he is quite literal about it.  We are members (limbs, organs, etc.) of the Risen Body of Christ.  He is the head and we are the members.  We (not individually but communally) are Christ and Christ is us.  As such all that can be attributed to Christ can be attributed to us.  Christ is the priest and we share in that priesthood because we compose the Risen Christ.  Christ offers the Sacrifice and we, as his Body, share in that offering of the Sacrifice.  The Eucharistic Sacrifice is, first and foremost, the Sacrifice of the Church because it is the Sacrifice of Christ who is inseparably united to his Body, the Church.  It is only in a secondary—though very real—way the sacrifice of the priest.  That is why the idea of the human priest offering the sacrifice on behalf of the Church is so patently offensive.  It undermines the entire nature of the Church as the Risen Body of Christ. 

We used to refer to the Church as the mystical Body of Christ and this was most unfortunate.  In English “mystical” has connotations of “spiritual” as opposed to “real.”  For Paul the reality of the one-and-the-sameness of the Risen Lord with the community of his disciples was realized on the road to Damascus when Jesus said “I am Jesus whom you persecute.”  Paul had known he was persecuting the Christian community—but in that revelation he realized that to persecute the Church was to persecute Christ, that Christ and his Church are one and indivisibly the same reality.   

We make a similar error when we take sacraments as something “symbolic” rather than “real.”  The issue is that symbols are more real than the literal.  Why do people get upset when they see the flag being burned or the Scriptures trampled underfoot.  It’s a piece of cloth!   It’s a book!  NO! It is not, it is something far more.  Symbols introduce us to levels of reality that transcend the boundaries of the literal, that open not only our minds but our psyches to visions of Truth that mere words can’t grasp. 

So when we say that the Bishop is the Symbol or the Sacrament of Christ the Priest—and admittedly with most of our current crew it is more a matter of blind faith than of spiritual insight—there is a profound reality of Christ the High Priest hidden there beneath an excess of avoir du pois, surly arrogance, and blind ambition.  Indeed, I cannot but wonder if this isn’t the main crisis in the Church in the United States today—that the Sacramental visibility of Christ in the clergy has not been totally obscured in too many cases by psycho-sexual-spiritual-intellectual immaturity of many with the ranks of hierarchy and clergy.  But read the prayer of ordination of a priest and see to what the priest is called—it is an amazing thing really.  No wonder so many of the less worthy want to put things back to Latin—they wouldn’t have to be confronted by the grace of understanding. 

So to sum it up: we all, by virtue of our baptism, share in the Sacrificing Priesthood of Christ and thereby we all, in the specifically unique capacities appropriate to our place in the Christian community, offer the Sacrifice in union with Christ whose Body we are.  Within the Community of the Body of Christ there are those who sacramentally re-present the specifically priestly Presence of Christ.  They have an unique and indispensible place but the priesthood of Christ does not belong to them alone but is shared by all who compose the Body of Christ, the Church.

Now—if you were to take this theology of priesthood seriously, what would liturgy look like?  What would the Christian assembly look like when gathered for worship?  How would the space be arranged?   Rather than top-down pyramidal structure, might it not be concentric circles gathered around an altar—a community with its sacramental leadership in solid communion with one another?  But more next time.  

OK--What Is The Agenda Behind Cardinal Sarah and the "Ad Orientatem" Movement?

 

Christ the High Priest
Byzantine Icon of
Christ in Bishop's Robes

Ok, I am going to try to keep this simple so that I can be perfectly clear.  Some of the Krazies who troll this site will be screaming “heresy” as it is so it is important that I aim for precision. And consequently it has taken a little longer to check my research and make sure everything is both precise and well-defined.   

It won’t be obvious in this first post where I am heading in the next two or three unless I give you a clue—so let me put it out front.  What is the real agenda behind this movement for the priest to face ad apsidem (towards the rear wall) for the celebration of Mass? I say ad apsidem rather than ad orientem because unless the church itself is built facing east, the presider is not facing ad apsidem.  The term—and indeed the concept—of “liturgical east” is one of the most patently ridiculous ideas to come down the pike.  I understand why, in many of the Church’s Rites, the churches (and those within) are “orientated” and in the context of those rites where this is an ancient tradition it makes great sense—but only if it is true east and not a south-by-northeast that we are somewhat pompously referring to as some mythical “liturgical east.”  But we don’t start there: let’s look first to the root of the problem: the understanding of the ordained priesthood. 

In both Latin and in Greek, the two languages that serve to shape the Church’s articulation of the deposit of faith, there are two distinct words that the one English word, priest, is used to translate.  It is unfortunate that English lacks this precision because each of the two words in Latin, like their Greek counterparts, relates to a substantially different reality.

The Latin word sacerdos (and its Greek equivalent ὁ ἱερεύς) signifies a cultic figure whose work it is to offer sacrifice.  The Latin word presbyter (and its Greek Equivalent, ὁ ‎πρεσβύτερος) signifies “elder” in the sense of a member of a governing board of a 1^st century synagogue.  (The first and second generations of the Church simply borrowed the administrative structures with which they were familiar from the synagogues.)  In the New Testament—and we see this theology developed most clearly in the Letter to the Hebrews—there is but one sacerdos, one sacrificing priest, Jesus Christ.  There is also one and only one sacrifice, the once and for all eternal Sacrifice in which Christ offers himself on the Cross as both priest and victim.   While in every celebration of the Eucharist we are given access to this one, eternal Sacrifice, that sacrifice is not repeated.  Christ is not sacrificed over and over again, day after day, on the altar, but rather in the Eucharist we move beyond time and space to become sacramentally present to that one eternal Sacrifice of the Cross. 

Now we in the Church are not passive witnesses to this Sacrifice but by virtue of our baptism, we share in the priesthood of Jesus Christ.  1 Peter 2:9 refers to us (collectively) as a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation.  The sacred author uses the word ἱεράτευμα (priesthood), a cognate of ἱερεύς indicating that Christians, by virtue of their incorporation into Christ in baptism, become participants in his sacrificing priesthood. 

Now—and this is where we need to be careful—while we all share in the sacrificing priesthood of Christ by virtue of our baptism, there is a unique participation in that priesthood reserved to the bishop. 

According to the patristic Tradition—and again we Catholics recognize two sources of revelation: scripture and Apostolic Tradition passed down through the centuries—the Bishop is the Sacramental Presence of Christ the High Priest in the Church.  The Bishop stands as Christ in the Church and when the Church is gathered around him for the Eucharist he, not of his own authority but in virtue of his re-presenting Christ the High Priest—he alone offers the Eucharistic Sacrifice. The bishop stands at the altar offering the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving; he was flanked by his presbyters and assisted by his deacons but there was only one Eucharistic celebration to which the entire Christian community was expected to come.  The deacons helped with the offerings of the faithful and prepared the bread and wine upon the altar but they did not assist directly in the Eucharist. The presbyters helped the bishop with the distribution of the Eucharistic elements and it can even be said that they concelebrated the Eucharist with the bishops, though not according to the manner our contemporary rites, but it was the bishop alone who offered the Eucharistic Prayer.  

By the middle of the third century, many Christian communities had grown beyond the capacity of a single Sunday assembly.  The bishop would then assign a senior presbyter to preside over a second gathering in another place but to show that there was only one Eucharist in the one (local) Church, the bishop would dispatch a deacon from his Mass with a piece of the Bishop’s hostia (the consecrated bread).  That Eucharistic fragment (called a fermentum) was then placed in the chalice at the presbyter’s assembly to show that while the one community was meeting in two separate places, it was still only one community.  The evolution of presbyter-led Eucharists make it clear that presbyters were acting not in their right in celebrating the Eucharist but in persona episcopi. 

In the fourth century the Church adapted the Roman Imperial administrative system of dioceses and bishops became the religious leaders of much larger areas that required many more Eucharistic assemblies to meet the challenge of a rapidly growing faithful as well as the relative distances under the Church’s administration.  As presbyters took over the various outlaying churches presbyter-led Eucharists became the norm but the Church has always made the distinction between the bishop (sacerdos) and the priest (presbyter).  Technically a priest is not supposed to celebrate the Eucharist without receiving “faculties” from the local bishop—and—except in danger of death—he may not hear confessions or absolve without those faculties.  The priest still performs his ministry in persona episcopi.

And for those who cherish all things pre-Vatican II, the hymn: Ecce Sacerdos Magnus (Behold the Great Priest) was sung only for the entrance of a bishop, never a priest 

Now, the fatal flaw in this theology of the Bishop being the presence of Christ the Priest and his presbyters sharing in the priesthood of Christ as extensions of the bishop is through the centuries too few bishops have proved themselves worthy of the august responsibility.  Bishops have done well, in their day, as Imperial administrators, as princes, as patrons of the arts and learning, as bankers and today as CEO’s—but none of this lets us look at our Bishop and see Christ the Priest.  Maybe that is why Pope Francis seems such an odd duck with all his talk of mercy and a poor church. 

That All May Be One

Martin Luther

I saw recently that a joint commission of Bishops and Theologians representing both the Catholic Church in the United States and the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America (ELCA) are forwarding to Rome and to the General Convention of the ELCA) a proposal authorizing Eucharistic sharing between Lutherans and Catholics in recognition of the significant doctrinal agreements that have been reached in the fifty years of Ecumenical dialogue since the Second Vatican Council.

I must admit that I was startled at the proposal.  (“Startled” doesn’t mean that I don’t like it, only that—much like the “Francis Agenda” at the recent Synod on the Family, I am amazed how fast the Church is ready to move in this papacy.)  There are significant issues to be addressed, not the least of which is the Elephant on the Coffee Table of Valid (Apostolic) Orders.  The Catholic Church believes that during the Reformation the Apostolic Succession of the Lutheran hierarchy and ministry was “lost.”   This is a serious question because the authority to preside at the Eucharist, to forgive sins, to confirm, to ordain, and to anoint the sick depend—in Catholic theology—on the minister of the sacrament standing in an unbroken succession of clergy whose ordinations can be traced back to the Apostles.

Now frankly, the Apostolic Succession is a highly complex issue.  Can only bishops ordain priests?  There are historical precedents before the Council of Trent (and I believe there is even one within the century after Trent) where the Catholic Church recognized ordinations conducted by a presbyter (priest).  (Ironically I came across this information about forty years ago in a series of essays by theologians and historians  who were involved in the same Lutheran Catholic dialogue process that is making the recommendation of Eucharistic sharing,)  If priests can validly ordain, then Apostolic Succession has been retained in the Lutheran Church.  Moreover, in some strains of Lutheranism, most notably the Swedish,  the office and ministry of Bishops was maintained in continuity with the pre-Reformation Church.  The argument was made by Catholics that in rejecting the Eucharistic doctrines of the Catholic Church, most notably Transubstantiation and Eucharistic Sacrifice, even those Episcopal Churches in the Lutheran Communion suffered a break in the Apostolic lineage.  But again, things are much more complex.  Recent ecumenical dialogues have established that there is no essential difference between the Catholic formula of Transubstantiation and the Lutheran doctrine of Consubstantiation.   As Catholics are bound to the doctrine of the Real Presence and not essentially to the doctrine of Transubstantiation (which is only one way of explaining the Real Presence) there is quite a bit of room for accord here.  Actually Transubstantiation and Consubstantiation are, at the root, essentially the same when one understands the difference between Thomistic (Scholastic and neo-Scholastic) thought in the Catholic Tradition and the Neo-Platonic or Augustinian philosophy espoused by Luther and the theologians who followed him.  When Luther says that the bread and wine remain bread and wine but Christ is truly Present “in, with, and under” the forms of bread and wine he means what we Catholics mean in saying that whle the “accidents” of bread and wine remain unchanged, their substance is transformed into the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity (and, though we forget to add it, humanity) of Christ.  The physical and chemical properties of bread and wine remain bread and wine. 

While we have come a tremendous distance in a common understanding, I am not hopeful that this proposal will be accepted by Rome.  (I think the ELCA will be all over it like ants at a picnic.)  The highly sensitive issue of Apostolic Orders has not been addressed and a solution has not been found for it.  More important are the unspoken agendas.  Rome, even after Vatican II, can’t seem to move away from an “unconditional surrender” approach to Ecumenism.  With Rome you pretty much have to buy the whole ball of wax and we have some issues here.  We won’t even bring up the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin or purgatory.  Women’s ordination is a stumbling block all of its own.   Katholic Krazies will go berserk about this proposal as the ELCA supports “a woman’s right to choose” as well as Same-Sex marriage.  And of course most of the Krazies just hate ecumenism in general because they get a lot of their energy just from hating. 

In the end it is a huge fuss over nothing.  I see Lutherans and Presbyterians and Episcopalians and even the odd Greek Orthodox coming up the aisle in our Church for Holy Communion every Sunday.  My Methodist sister-in-law even has permission from the local Catholic bishops to receive Holy Communion.  She is at mass with my brother every Sunday.  Used to run the kid’s choir in the parish.  Hardly anyone in town knows that she technically isn’t a Catholic.  And hey—Catholics in the Lutheran Church: I know we aren’t supposed to go to Communion but I’ve seen priests—even fairly uptight ones that like to get all dolled up like Cardinal Burke—kneeling at the Lutheran rail.  Most Catholics don’t have a clue about the prohibition and it wouldn’t stop them if they did.  As in so many ways, the faithful are out in front while the magisterium puts their mitered heads in the sand and the theologians all wriggle and moan like they need a laxative. 

So am I condoning Eucharistic Sharing with Lutherans?  Don’t have to any more than I have to condone the sun coming up in the East.  It is just a fact of life.  Sure the krazies are beside themselves, “goin’ to fight it with everything in me” one writes.  But the words of Jesus remain: ut unum sint.

Now, for another matter.  I am taking a few weeks off while on a secret mission.  keep me in your prayers and I will keep you in mine.  

Reason 5 Why The "New Mass" Is Superior To The Old Rite

Doesn't it just say: I have been
crucified with Christ; it is no longer
I who live but Christ Jesus who
lives in me.

Well, by this time it is probably clear that I have some form of ADHD as I start various series and keep jumping around from one topic to another.  I need to focus.  And so I want to get back to my ten reasons why the Ordinary Form of the Mass in the Roman Rite (the Vatican II Rite or the 1970 Missal) is superior to the Extraordinary Form (The Tridentine Rite, or the various editions of the Roman Missal—and associated rites such as the Dominican or Carmelite or Carthusian—that were produced in 1570 or at other points between the Council of Trent and the Second Vatican Council).

This series was triggered by a set of articles in New Liturgical Movement by one Professor Peter Kwasniewski of Wyoming Catholic College making the opposite claim.  While New Liturgical Movement often has some well researched historical articles that are invaluable sources for the historical development of the Liturgy, Doctor Kwasniewski usually contents himself with more specious essays bordering on the inane.  Nevertheless, as poorly reasoned as his article was, it does give me the opportunity to point out why the Liturgical Reforms of Vatican II are not only greatly beneficial to Christian life but were absolutely necessary to correct the faulty trajectory the Church was headed down ever since the Neo-Scholastic/Romantic revival of the 19^th century.  So lets look at reason 5 of why the New Liturgy is superior to the pre-conciliar rite: Because of its centrality in conforming us to Christ, the Liturgy must be a clear and unambiguous witness of our Trinitarian and Incarnational faith

Let’s begin with “What is the Mass?”  And let’s go back to the old Baltimore Catechism so beloved of the krazies who want to bring back the old Mass and everything with it.  the Catechism says

The Mass is the sacrifice of the New Law in which Christ, through the ministry of the priest, offers Himself to God in an unbloody manner under the appearances of bread and wine. 

This actually isn’t a bad answer.  At least as a beginning.  The trouble with the Catechism, however—and the theological framework which produced it—is that it takes the sacraments in isolation and does not see the relationship between them.  The key sacrament of the Catholic Church is not the Eucharist but Baptism and the Eucharist can only be understood in the light of what happens at Baptism

Now for Baptism I am not going to go back to the Catechism because the Catechism reflects the problem created when Scholastic Theology—based on Aristotelian logic—replaced the ancient Patristic theological tradition in which the Fathers of the Church rooted themselves.  The Fathers of the Church drew on scriptures and interpreted them in the light of neo-Platonic thought which was not so much rational as mystical.  The Fathers saw our earthly rites as having spiritual or heavenly meanings.  They were big into symbolism while the Scholastics liked a certain literalism.  The Scholastics got a bit carried away with the idea that Baptism is about “washing away” original sin.  The Fathers of the Church, drawing on Saint Paul, had seen Baptism as entering into death with Christ and being raised with him to newness of life. 

Or are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.

The earthly rite of entering into the waters of baptism and emerging from them are symbolic of being buried with Christ and being raised with him.  It had nothing to do with original sin.

The idea of original sin is in the Fathers of the Church, Saint Augustine in particular, but it is found only in the Fathers of the Western Church and is rooted, in great part, in a misunderstanding by Saint Augustine of Saint Paul’s famous line

Therefore, just as through one person sin entered the world, and through sin, death, and thus death came to all, inasmuch as all sinned

Augustine had mistranslated this passage to read

Therefore, just as through one man (Adam) sin entered the world, and through sin death, and thus death came to all because one man (Adam) had sinned.

As the Western Church began more and more to emphasize original sin in the central Middle Ages (800-1100) it also forgot the Patristic theology that Baptism is about dying and rising with Christ.  When the Scholastics came along in the 12^th and 13^th centuries, they saw the water being poured and thought: “Washing, we are purifying the person of original sin. Scrub! Scrub!  Scrub!  Out, out, damned Spot.” 

The Eastern Church kept the practice of immersion baptism and so the visual symbol of dying and rising in Christ was strong, while the sacramental minimalism of the Western Church permitted baptism to be reduced to a sprinkling or pouring and the sign became purification rather than dying and rising.  This is one reason why it is so important to restore immersion as the normal form of baptism.  But I don’t want to wander far away from the topic of the Mass, so let me refocus.

In the first centuries of the Church, the practice was that only the baptized faithful could be present for the Eucharist.  The unbaptized, including the catechumens, were dismissed at the end of the sermon.  Thus the first time Christians were present at the Eucharist was on the night of their baptism.  They had just been through this profound rite of being led down into a pool of water where they were submerged three times—in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  They had died in Christ and were then led up out of the pool and anointed with sweet oil as prayer invoking the Holy Spirit were said over them by the bishop, and finally dressed in a new white garment.  Carrying a lighted candle or small oil lamp they were then brought into the Church where they heard the Bishop invoke God to send that same Holy Spirit which had been called down upon them to now come down upon the gifts of bread and wine so that the bread and wine too could be transformed into Christ. 

They had died to selves and been raised in Christ; now they were to be fed with bread and wine that had been transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ.  There is an intimate contact between Baptism and Eucharist.  Every Eucharist is a renewal of the Baptismal commitment:

I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live but Christ Jesus who lives in me!

And so too for us.  We are nourished by the Word of God in the Liturgy of the Word.  Then gifts that represent us—bread, “which human hands have made,” and wine, "the fruit of the vine and work of human hands”—are placed on the altar and the priest prays that the Holy Spirit will come upon these gifts to make them for us to be the Body and the Blood of Christ.  But the priest also prays that the Holy Spirit will come upon us and make us One in Christ, that is unite us in the Body of Christ which is the Church.  Thus the Eucharist renews our Baptismal Vocation to be transformed into Christ by being joined with him in his death and raised as a member of his resurrected Body the Church.   

Now, why didn’t Sister Mater Dolorosa teach us this back in the fifth grade at Saint Sophronia’s Academy for the Pour Souls?  In great part it was because over centuries of deformation the Roman Rite had obscured its own rich heritage.  Perhaps the greatest flaw in the so-called Extraordinary Form is the lack of a proper epiclesis in the Canon of the Mass.  The epiclesis is the prayer invoking the Holy Spirit to transform the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ.  This is not a minor prayer.  In the Eastern tradition—including the Eastern Rites of the Catholic Church—it is considered the consecration proper, the same role played by the Words of Institution in the Western Church.  It is essential for validity—or would be, if only we hadn’t lost it in the Western Church.  Thank heavens for economia which is the theological principle that permits the Church to jump the theological gaps between theory and practice.  The equivalent prayer in the “Roman Canon” used exclusively in the Extraordinary Form reads:

Be pleased, O God, we pray, to bless, acknowledge, and approve this offering in every respect; make it spiritual and acceptable, so that it may become for us the Body and Blood of your most beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

See, no mention of the Holy Spirit though still the petition that the gifts will become the Body and Blood of Christ through God’s action (as differentiated from the “power” of the priest celebrant.)

The prayer invoking the Holy Spirit upon us to make us one in Christ’s Body is even more ambivalent with, again, no mention of the Holy Spirit and no explicit mention of us being united in the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, only that we may be filled with every grace and blessing. 

In humble prayer we ask you, almighty God: command that these gifts be borne by the hands of your holy Angel to your altar on high in the sight of your divine majesty, so that all of us, who through this participation at the altar receive the most holy Body and Blood of your Son,may be filled with every grace and heavenly blessing.

In the Mass, then we are intimately joined to the sacrifice of Christ where we renew our commitment to be crucified with Christ into death and be rasied no longer alive to self but alive in Christ Jesus as a member of his Risen Body.  While such grace is operative in the Liturgy regardless of the rite in which it is celebrated, in the so-called “Traditional Mass” it has been obscured by rituals that imply that the sacrifice is Christ being offered for us by the priest rather than directly involving ourselves—by grace, not our own efforts—in dying and rising with Christ.  Nor is it clear in the “Traditional Rite” that we ourselves are to be transformed into Christ.  We are passive recipients rather than active participants of grace. 

It is ironic that Luther was so opposed to this theology of the Sacrifice of the Mass because the Traditional Mass really reflects his anthropology.  For Luther, the human person was was sinful to the core—“a pile of shit” is how Luther described him.  Grace does not change that but rather like the snow that covers the “pile of shit” covers the flaw from God’s eye.   Man is still worthless, but Grace bridges the gap with God.  Our Catholic understanding begins in the same place.  We are—and this is for all your fans of original sin out there—that same pile of shit.  But grace transforms us—makes us, as it were, into manure: something good  and life-giving.  In fact, the Eucharist takes us sinful people and transforms us into something far greater than manure but into Christ himself.