When Faith Is Left a Body Without A Soul

I had the opportunity some years back to spend Palm Sunday and Holy Week in Seville.  No one does Holy Week like the Spaniards and Seville is the most famous of the Spanish cities for the marvelous processions of the pasos depicting scenes from the Passion and Death of our Savior.  The figures —some centuries old—depicting Jesus, the Virgin Mary, the apostles and others in the various tableaux are made of wood, wax and wire.  They are dressed, for the most part, in exquisite silks, velvets, and brocades with jeweled ornaments set in gold and silver.  The figures are arranged in their various scenes on large platforms that are carried by several dozen men standing beneath the curtained stages on which they are

arranged.  The platforms are then filled in with silver candelabra and magnificent floral pieces.   The carriers can move only a few steps at a time—perhaps as little as two or three yards—before needing to rest due to the weight of the pasos.

Each procession—and in Seville there are eight and nine each day—are sponsored by the various hermandades and confridias  (brotherhoods and confraternities) which plan their processions for the entire year from the previous Easter.  The members of each brotherhood or confraternity wear their distinctive silk and velvet habits—a tunic, mantle, and large pointed hood covering the face but with slits for the eyes.  The different confraternities and brotherhoods are distinguished from one another by the color combinations of their habits.  Each pasos is also accompanied by its own crucifer,

thurifer, and lucifers—carrying the processional cross, the incense, and the candles.  These men—usually young men in their early twenties—are clad in lace albs and tunicles of various liturgical colors.  The confraternities and brotherhoods also hire bands to precede each pasos in the procession.  The most famous and revered of the pasos is La Macarena, Our  Lady of Hope (also Our Lady of Sorrows). Her procession is in the very early hours of Good Friday morning. 

One would expect all this to be very moving—and it is—but not in the way intended.  As hundreds of thousands of tourists flock to Seville for the spectacle, it has become something like a weeklong circus parade.  Vendors go up and down alongside the procession selling ice cream and cold drinks and balloons for the kids.  Viewers stand there with hot sandwiches and beers as the processions pass by.  Even some of the “penitents” lift back their hoods and quaff a quick glass of wine or, when their procession is done, sit in the cafes, still in their gorgeous robes, feasting on tapas and beer.   And the churches are empty!!!  I was staying in a monastery where I have some friends—all services were cancelled for the week.  I went to church after church planning where to go for the Holy Thursday and Good Friday Liturgies only to find out that, other than in the cathedral, there were no scheduled services.   At the suggestion of my priest friends, I took a train to nearby Jerez de la Frontera and stayed with the friars there.  In Jerez there were the processions too.  Not as many, but five or six a day.  They were just as splendid with flowers and the silver ornaments and the bands and hooded penitents.  But the crowds along the street were dressed in suits and ties, the women in the traditional high combs holding their mantillas.  They watched in respectful silence as the various tableaux were carried by.  Yes there were people in the cafes and bars—we all have to eat—but the atmosphere was both serene and profound.  The churches were filled for the

evening services.  The music was beautiful and young families were well represented. 

When the processions started—centuries back during the late fifteenth-century reforms of the Church of Spain, they were genuine acts of piety.  The immense amount of gold and silver ornaments, processional crosses, candelaria, processional staffs and other accouterments testify to the genuine devotion of the faithful.  But with the increasing secularization of our culture the soul has been eaten out of so much devotion.  What was once faith is now often reduced to mere show.  The urgency of a new evangelization is cannot be overstated. 

Filling in the Niches

About a week and a half ago, Monsignor Charles Pope, a priest of the Washington DC Archdiocese published an article in the National Catholic Register stating his conviction that interest in the Traditional Latin Mass (the pre-conciliar liturgy) is no longer growing and advocating a more aggressive evangelism among its devotees to restore the momentum of expanding the popularity of the old rite.  It was a remarkably balanced and well-written article although Monsignor’s observations are based on “anecdotal evidence” and not established statistics.  One facet of his observations is that as the number of TLM’s expands, the congregational base divides so that there are more Masses but those Masses are less and less crowded.  Monsignor Pope suggests that what is needed to restore momentum is a push for “evangelization.”

Now, to be fair to Monsignor Pope, he is a bit ambiguous about what he means by evangelization, but I would like to draw our attention to the fact that evangelization is not a matter of advocating for one form of liturgy or another, nor is the focus of evangelization advancing the Church.  Evangelization is spreading the Gospel (Ευαγγαλιον, Good News) of the Kingdom of God.  The Church is the agent of the Gospel, not its object, and while some rites might it express it more lucidly, every celebration of the Liturgy in whatever Rite is an expression of the Lord’s Paschal Mystery.  All Christians are call to evangelize; it is a responsibility given us at our Baptisms.  But this is not the focus of this post. 

According to Monsignor Pope, despite the availability of the TLM at five parishes in the Archdiocese the number of Catholics in the Archdiocese of Washington who attend the Traditional Latin Mass (Extraordinary Form, not the Novus Ordo in Latin) are about one half of one percent of the Catholics who regularly attend Sunday Mass.  This translates to about one thousand people spread over five sites, or an average of two hundred people per site.  The neighboring Diocese of Arlington has a plethora of parishes that offer the TLM every Sunday but there too many of the sites draw less than 100 people for a Mass.  Across the country even as new TLM sites are springing up an equal (or even greater number) are closing down or cutting back for a lack of sufficient numbers attending. 

Monsignor Pope uses the example of a parish where he had often celebrated the TLM over the past quarter century.  When the Mass was first introduced, the Church was “almost full.”  Over the years the congregation has declined by two-thirds.  What is the reason for this?  One reason—and probably the most significant—is that with more parishes offering the TLM, people opt for a site closer to home.  A second reason is that just as some people have “graduated” from the Ordinary Form to the TLM, they go on to graduate school in the Byzantine or other Eastern Rites; some people are pilgrims and they migrate, never settling.  Still others make peace with the normative liturgy or find a place where it is celebrated in a way they can at least tolerate and return to the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite.  And some simply lose interest in the spiritual journey, having sampled the honey from a variety of rocks, and just don’t go anywhere anymore.  But no matter what the reason, the impetus to return to the preconciliar rite seems to have lost momentum.  There will always be those who, for one reason or another, choose it but there seems to be little likelihood of it becoming universal practice once again.   

I think a big factor in the popularity (or survival) of the TLM is the reasons that motivate people toward it.  I hear all this “stuff” about “more reverent” or “a sense of holiness” but ultimately that is all pretty subjective.  Granted in the exceptional situation where it is a sung Solemn Mass there is a certain aesthetic beauty to it, but so too is there in a Novus Ordo Mass that is well done—just look at the papal Mass for Christmas Eve.  I know myself that I have some experience of worshipping with a Cistercian community and find the Liturgy—all very Novus Ordo—to be exceptionally beautiful and reverent.  And as for reverence, despite my liberalism I have yet to trip across a “clown Mass” or see some sandal-clad nun in wispy dress “preside” at Mass or any other such silliness.  I somewhat think such aberrations are a bit like the Loch Ness Monster: more a creature of legend than of fact.  If I have any criticism of the Novus Ordo it is that too many priests have fallen into a routine of how they “say Mass” and show all the enthusiasm of a tired mother at the end of the day folding the laundry.  But then I remember the 11 minute Saturday morning specials of my Tridentine youth and have no illusions how the TLM is inherently more reverent. 

I think people are drawn to the TLM for a number of reasons, not all of them spiritual.  I don’t mean to suggest an individual who prefers the TLM represents all of these characteristics and there may be other reasons as well.

1.    the TLM preserves that sense of individualism from the encroachment of a “community” of unknown (and undesired) strangers.  You don’t have to (and couldn’t if you wanted to) interface with your neighbor at the TLM

2.    The TLM permits you—if you wish—to pray via pious reverie rather than engage you with the Liturgy itself.  This is related to the sense of individualism in number 1.

3.    The TLM gives you an escape from the daily world and its pressures, allowing a peaceful and otherworldly respite for the duration of the Liturgy. 

4.    The TLM suspends the cultural tensions of our contemporary world and represents a retreat into a secure past with fixed answers and well-defined boundaries.  

5.    The TLM gives you a sense of intimacy with Christ that excludes others.

6.    The TLM marks you as different and distinct.  The sort of music, the use of Latin, the more formal tone gives you a certain status as a more cultured individual.

7.    The TLM draws people somewhat like-minded in their social and political views, namely of a strongly conservative conviction.

8.    For the spiritually restless, the TLM offers something new, foreign even, that creates an immediate semblance of religious experience. 

I don’t mean to suggest that all people drawn to the TLM have one or more of these (conscious or unconscious) motivations and do not mean to suggest that there are not other reasons.  But I think the movement in favor of the Traditional (Pre-Conciliar) Rites is, at best, a sort of niche Catholicism and I agree with Monsignor Pope that the niche is pretty well filled.  

What In The World Will be Postmodern Catholicism? 2

Notre Dame du Cap in the
heartland of what was once
French and Catholic Canada 

I am spending a vacation week in French Canada—my first return here in almost fifty years.  The area is stamped with its Catholic heritage.  Place names: Sainte Anne, Saint Benoit, Notre Dame du Cap, Saint Sebastian, Sainte Madeleine, l’Ange Guardien, Saint Luc.  Streets are named after saints, bishops, nuns and priests.  Every significant ville has its Couvent des Ursulines, invariably now a museum.  Driving along route 138 north of Quebec the towns are dotted with their charming 18^th century church steeples.   But the Catholic faith—vibrant only a few decades ago—is now all but dead.  This is not only the story in Nouvelle France, but in Old France as well.  And Spain.  And Germany.  Ireland is falling fast into the crevice of a post-Christian banishment of God from the culture.  And we are not far behind.

This is not simply a Catholic problem.  Calvinist Holland and Switzerland, Lutheran Denmark, Norway and Sweden, Anglican England, Baptist Wales, Presbyterian Scotland all find their empty churches turning into discothèques and restaurants and senior centers.  God simply is not relevant to contemporary culture. 

The problem is not, of course, God.  And while contemporary culture may be the challenge, it is not the problem.  The problem is our reluctance to have enough faith to be able to strip away the cultural accretions we have added to our faith over the centuries and shape the essentials to speak the Good News of the Kingdom of God in the language of our Postmodern culture. 

I write of “accretions” and “essentials.”  The Gospel remains the Gospel across the centuries and cultures.   God so love the world that he sent his only Son that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.  God did not send his son to condemn the world but rather that the world might have live in him.  That message remains ever valid.  The problems are the layers of gilt that we have applied to the lily in God’s name when they really have always been more to our fancy.  We don’t need the gilt.  The Lily is enough the way God made it.  And God has given us a rich heritage that, remodeled to present its best face to our world, can be an invaluable tool for re-evangelizing our Postmodern culture. 

What aspects of our Catholic heritage speak best to the contemporary world?

1.    A sense of mission.  Mission challenges people today.  Many feel a need to make a difference in bettering the world.  For some this may be the challenge of turning back the negative impact we have had on our environment.  For others it may be making a difference in third-world nations.  For still others it might be making a difference in our inner-city public schools.  The campaigns are as varied as are the interests.  One Catholic Church that has been enormously successful in attracting people of all ages and backgrounds is the Church of the Nativity in Burke VA.   A huge part of the glue that binds this community of faith is the passion for the people of Haiti which their late pastor, Father Richard Martin, encouraged.  They have made a huge difference.  The parish’s Operation Starfish has, since 1998, built over 1300 homes along with schools, clinics, sewing co-ops, fishing co-ops, small businesses, and vocational training centers in 10 “Nativity Villages” in Haiti.  Under Father Martin’s leadership and with his drive to make a better world in some very concrete and demonstrable ways, the parish tripled in membership.  This is only one example of how a sense of Mission can energize people and give them a reason to be plugged into Church. 

2.    A sense of community.  The old sitcom Cheers featured a bar “where everyone knows your name.”  The increasing isolation in today’s society is counter-balanced by a longing people have to belong to groups where others know them and they know others.  Really know.  Connect.  So often today people are no more than a cog in the impersonal wheel of life.  Gone are the days when one worked for an employer who knew them and cared about them and their families.  Today people migrate from employer to employer, leaving no impact and forgotten within days after their leaving.  The Church needs to be far more personal.  As Catholics we have maintained the heritage of community over the individualism of Protestantism, but too often community is only a theological concept and not a tangible reality.  I have seen churches that are genuine communities.  Within the last year I attended the funeral of a friend at an impossibly large church in Northern Virginia.  The sanctuary seats over 1200, though the funeral was held in the more intimate “Day Chapel” that holds maybe 200.  I was amazed to see how people rallied around my friend’s husband and children.  The chapel was packed.  There were a full set of volunteer ministers: Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, readers, cantors, servers.  A squad of parishioners prepared and served a lunch for us—all 200—after the Mass.  People milled around, talking to us out-of-towners and welcoming us to their “parish family.”  Given the size of the parish, it is not rare for such funerals to happen three and four times a week but an inclusive community makes this possible.  And I want to highlight inclusive.  I noticed that at this parish there are regular meetings for AA and other 12 step programs including for those with compulsive sexual behaviors.  “And we have gone out of our way to welcome the LGBT community,” the pastor told me when, writing this blog, I called for more information.  There are support groups for the divorced and remarried as well as for singles, widows, and others who need the affirmation of a Christian fellowship.  While many of their neighboring parishes are withering on the vine, this Church (the pastor asked me not to reveal it’s name because of its gay-friendly policy in a people-hostile diocese) is growing steadily. 

3.    A recovery of our mystical tradition.  The fine points of doctrine do not interest most people under sixty today but there is a deep interest in the spiritual journey.  X-Catholics are turning to Buddhism, Hinduism, Wicca, and New Age gimmicks when we have an incredibly rich and far more sound spiritual heritage in Francis de Sales, Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Ignatius Loyola and his Spiritual Excercises, Meister Eckhart, Thomas à Kempis and his Imitation of Christ, Brother Lawrence, Elizabeth of the Trinity, and a host of other spiritual writers.  How many of our clergy or religious today know anything substantial of this heritage?  I have had dinner at Wolfington Hall with the Jesuits at Georgetown University, an experience nonpareil in both gastronomy and lively conversation.  Jesus did figure in the conversations; Ignatius did not.  Pity.  There is a light here not to be hid under a bushel.  For all the academic vigor of the Jesuits, please remember your first and most needed gift is the spiritual tradition of Ignatian Spirituality.  You can educate the best but what we need you to pass on—that which only you can pass on—is that experience of Jesus which Ignatius has revealed.  And you Carmelites—the rigors of your silences and fasts are wasted if you don’t pass on the profound path to heart where Jesus waits that Teresa and John have shown us.  And who hears anything today of Francis de Sales and the Introduction To The Devout Life?   I don’t want a Salesian pastor administrating my parish or a Visitation Nun teaching French—they need to bring out the treasures that belong to the Church and make them available to a world that wants to find meaning in their lives.   I wish I could say that I knew any parish that was doing this, but the popularity of Richard Rohr and Richard Rohlheiser and Joan Chittester and Thomas Keating and the late Thomas Merton and John Main all testify to the powerful draw that the spiritual path has today. 

4.    We need a new path in worship.  The Second Vatican Council called for the Liturgy to be adapted to the cultures it encounters in its outreach to the peoples of Asia, Oceania, Africa, as well as the indigenous peoples of the Americas and Australia.  We are now encountering a radically shifted culture in the Developed World and we need to be open to adapting our rituals and prayers to that new culture.  I am going to write more on this specific topic in a future posting but suffice it to say that neither a return to the frozen-in-time (which is radically different from “timeless”) farce of liturgical restorationism and the reestablishment of the baroque rite of the 1570 Missal, nor slapping the Band-Aids of “being hip” on the 1970 rite can meet the crisis.  The central core, not of the ritual but of the Mysterium Fidei, can and must remain but we must not be afraid to deconstruct the edifice and from its ancient stones build anew. 

There is an urgency in proclaiming the Gospel in the cultural vernacular.  Saint Paul did it in the first century when he encountered the Greek Culture of the Mediterranean world.  Patrick did it bringing the faith to the Irish as Bonfiace did to the Germans and Ansgar to the Scandinavians.  Matteo Ricci tried to do it to bring the Gospel to the Imperial Court in Beijing and had he not been undermined by the Dominicans and Augustinians who were so locked in the prison of religion that faith was no longer a living reality, China today might be Catholic.  The acculturated Gospel has made the Dancing Church of Africa come alive in faith, has sustained the Vietnamese in their years of limited freedom, and has shifted the center of gravity in the Catholic world from the tired North to the Global South.  It can fan the embers of European and American Christianity in life again.