(An Advent Reflection)
If Christ had not come, men would not know God as we know him now. One chosen People would have his Law, but no one would be indwelt by his Spirit. One People would confess that he is merciful, but no one would know its depths. One People would confess him as their Source, but no one would know him as their Father.
If Christ had not come, there would be no doctrine that all human beings are equal in worth, or that the servant of all is the greatest. There would be no universities or hospitals as we know them today. We would be deprived of all the marvelous art, music, architecture, and literature produced by the Christian imagination.
If Christ had not come, there would be no divine life in the souls of men. We would still be under the tyranny of the devil and death. There would be no priests to baptize, to offer the Sacrifice of the Mass, or to give absolution. There would be no Eucharist making men into an everlasting Mystical Body. Everyone would still be dead in their sins, and death would have the last word.
If Christ had not come, the world would still be in darkness.
O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
"How was Mass," Part II (Externals Matter)
[Note: I have added some things in brackets, per the comment box.]
In Part I, I explained how the Mass is always the Sacrifice of Calvary, regardless of the quality of the externals--art, music, ceremonial, etc. Now a question arises. If the Mass is always the Mass, then do the externals matter at all? Are they a mere matter of taste? Are the [Low-church] Protestants right when they say that "smells and bells" are just "empty religion"?
Although it is true that God always gives us his grace in the Mass, it is also true that we only benefit from his grace to the extent we are open. "Externals" are immensely powerful tools that may make us more or less open to divine grace. A perfect man, perhaps, would always be completely open to God, regardless of circumstances; but most of us are not perfect men.
But more importantly, God as King of Kings deserves to be worshiped in the way he wants to be worshiped; and he deserves the very best we have to offer. Of course that means, in the first place, that we should adore God in our hearts. But we are not angels; we are composite beings of body and soul. We worship God with our bodies as well as "in our hearts." Granted, one can observe elaborate rituals while his heart is far from God. Christ made that clear. But it does not follow that the visible form of our public worship does not matter, that it is purely a matter of taste, or that rituals are evil. If any of those were the case, then God would not have instructed his people to follow certain rituals or to build gold-lined temples with sacred images.
Here the iconoclast may accuse me of being "stuck in the Old Testament," but such an accusation assumes a false dichotomy. Christ's condemnation of the Pharisees and Sadducees was not a condemnation of religion per se; it was a condemnation of hypocrisy. That Christ came to fulfill, that the temple curtain was rent in twain, does not mean that God did away with religion. It means that the religion he revealed became more resplendent than ever. Indeed, the Incarnation makes our religion complete. Giving God the best we have to offer means, in the first place, offering him his own divine Son, in the Sacrifice of the Mass. Is it not fitting that our liturgies should reflect and honor the King of Glory? Is it not right that our worship should, in a humble and human way, "incarnate" the glory of our Incarnate Lord who is present at every Mass?
Because Protestant services are sadly bereft of the Eucharistic Sacrifice, indeed it makes little difference whether one worships at this Protestant service or that, in the woods or at home. I do not say this to insult Protestants; they readily admit it [Low-church Protestants, anyhow]. It is preached from pulpits that the "gathering place" is not holy, that it is arbitrary, that it is the heart that counts. They imagine that the first century "home churches" were akin to the individualist services that they conduct. What they do not realize is that the early Christians met in homes (and tombs) because of persecutions; and when they gathered together, a priest offered Mass! Soon as the persecutions were put to an end, Christians erected temples and used "smells and bells" to the hilt.
"I don't need to go to church," others will say. "I can worship God in my own way, wherever I am." Indeed, it is true that one can, and should, worship God at any place and time, and pray in one's own words. But God has also revealed that he wishes to be worshiped using certain rituals--Baptism, the Eucharist, the Lord's Prayer, and so on; and he has also revealed that he likes his temples to be beautiful. To refuse to worship God in the way he wants to be worshiped is not only to insult him. It is also quite foolish, since God only decrees what is best for us; and to deviate from his will can only hurt us.
Finally, some people have a hard time with the idea that a created thing, such as a liturgy, or an icon, could be holy. "Only God is holy," they say. But God has revealed that things become holy (in a lesser way) because of their association with God, such as the Ark of the Covenant. To treat holy things in a profane manner is to treat the Most High in a profane manner--as the men discovered who dared to touch the Ark without his permission. The liturgies of the Church are holy because of their association with God, and therefore ought to be treated with reverence: not in themselves, but out of reverence for Christ, especially in the Mass where his body and blood are present.
In conclusion, the Mass is always the Sacrifice of Calvary. It is always holy because of its close association with God. This does not mean that the externals do not matter, since poor externals do not prevent God from becoming present or giving grace. Precisely because the Mass is holy, the externals should reflect the glory of God; and because externals are powerful tools, they should be used in a way that disposes our hearts, not to having a "good time," but to contrition and adoration before an all holy God.
In Part I, I explained how the Mass is always the Sacrifice of Calvary, regardless of the quality of the externals--art, music, ceremonial, etc. Now a question arises. If the Mass is always the Mass, then do the externals matter at all? Are they a mere matter of taste? Are the [Low-church] Protestants right when they say that "smells and bells" are just "empty religion"?
Although it is true that God always gives us his grace in the Mass, it is also true that we only benefit from his grace to the extent we are open. "Externals" are immensely powerful tools that may make us more or less open to divine grace. A perfect man, perhaps, would always be completely open to God, regardless of circumstances; but most of us are not perfect men.
But more importantly, God as King of Kings deserves to be worshiped in the way he wants to be worshiped; and he deserves the very best we have to offer. Of course that means, in the first place, that we should adore God in our hearts. But we are not angels; we are composite beings of body and soul. We worship God with our bodies as well as "in our hearts." Granted, one can observe elaborate rituals while his heart is far from God. Christ made that clear. But it does not follow that the visible form of our public worship does not matter, that it is purely a matter of taste, or that rituals are evil. If any of those were the case, then God would not have instructed his people to follow certain rituals or to build gold-lined temples with sacred images.
Here the iconoclast may accuse me of being "stuck in the Old Testament," but such an accusation assumes a false dichotomy. Christ's condemnation of the Pharisees and Sadducees was not a condemnation of religion per se; it was a condemnation of hypocrisy. That Christ came to fulfill, that the temple curtain was rent in twain, does not mean that God did away with religion. It means that the religion he revealed became more resplendent than ever. Indeed, the Incarnation makes our religion complete. Giving God the best we have to offer means, in the first place, offering him his own divine Son, in the Sacrifice of the Mass. Is it not fitting that our liturgies should reflect and honor the King of Glory? Is it not right that our worship should, in a humble and human way, "incarnate" the glory of our Incarnate Lord who is present at every Mass?
Because Protestant services are sadly bereft of the Eucharistic Sacrifice, indeed it makes little difference whether one worships at this Protestant service or that, in the woods or at home. I do not say this to insult Protestants; they readily admit it [Low-church Protestants, anyhow]. It is preached from pulpits that the "gathering place" is not holy, that it is arbitrary, that it is the heart that counts. They imagine that the first century "home churches" were akin to the individualist services that they conduct. What they do not realize is that the early Christians met in homes (and tombs) because of persecutions; and when they gathered together, a priest offered Mass! Soon as the persecutions were put to an end, Christians erected temples and used "smells and bells" to the hilt.
"I don't need to go to church," others will say. "I can worship God in my own way, wherever I am." Indeed, it is true that one can, and should, worship God at any place and time, and pray in one's own words. But God has also revealed that he wishes to be worshiped using certain rituals--Baptism, the Eucharist, the Lord's Prayer, and so on; and he has also revealed that he likes his temples to be beautiful. To refuse to worship God in the way he wants to be worshiped is not only to insult him. It is also quite foolish, since God only decrees what is best for us; and to deviate from his will can only hurt us.
Finally, some people have a hard time with the idea that a created thing, such as a liturgy, or an icon, could be holy. "Only God is holy," they say. But God has revealed that things become holy (in a lesser way) because of their association with God, such as the Ark of the Covenant. To treat holy things in a profane manner is to treat the Most High in a profane manner--as the men discovered who dared to touch the Ark without his permission. The liturgies of the Church are holy because of their association with God, and therefore ought to be treated with reverence: not in themselves, but out of reverence for Christ, especially in the Mass where his body and blood are present.
In conclusion, the Mass is always the Sacrifice of Calvary. It is always holy because of its close association with God. This does not mean that the externals do not matter, since poor externals do not prevent God from becoming present or giving grace. Precisely because the Mass is holy, the externals should reflect the glory of God; and because externals are powerful tools, they should be used in a way that disposes our hearts, not to having a "good time," but to contrition and adoration before an all holy God.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
"How was Mass," Part I
As a former Protestant, I understand the meaning of the question, "How was your Sunday service today?". To such a question, one might respond, "We really had a nice service," or in the case of a Pentecostal, "The Spirit really moved." Indeed, who can deny that sometimes one's experience of public worship is better than at other times? On a purely human plane, sometimes I happen to like the song selection better, the choir does a better job, the pastor preaches a better sermon, or I happen to be in a better mood. On the divine plane, is it not also true that God seems to touch our hearts more palpably on certain occasions than on others?
When it comes to the Mass, however, asking "how it went" seems out of place. I do not mean that it is offensive, just that it leaves me tongue tied. I do not know how to answer it. This perspective comes, of course, from a place of belief in the Catholic Religion. I would not expect an outsider to have the same understanding or reverence for the Mass as a Catholic has. But how do I answer the question when it comes around, "How was Mass"?
What makes the Mass different from a Protestant service is not merely that it remains virtually the same from Sunday to Sunday, though that is one aspect of it. Neither is it, as some Protestants may suspect, that Catholics lack a personal relationship with God. On the contrary, the union a Christian has with God in the Mass is so profound that asking him afterward "how it went" is like asking a couple, concerning their marital relations last night, "how it went." The question is unfitting because it trivializes something most sacred, personal, and intimate.
What makes the Mass special is that in every Mass, the body and blood of Christ are made present and are offered to God as a Sacrifice, and to man as spiritual life-giving food. The sermon may be rich or vacuous, the music heavenly or banal. We may be in a great mood or having a horrible day. God may give us a mystical experience, or he may withhold his special caresses so that we learn to love him for his own sake. In any case, it is still, always, the Sacrifice of Calvary, the "source and summit" of the Christian life. And that is what matters. That is what public Christian worship is about.
Christ is present at every Mass in a most powerful way, and he always gives himself in a powerful way, because he instituted it for that purpose. His presence does not depend on my feelings, or on the sermon or the music. It does not depend on whether I "really felt the Spirit moving today" or not. God is always there, and our union with him in Holy Communion is always profound. To ask "How was Mass today?" -- to me this is like asking, "How was the Sacrifice of Calvary today?"
(To be continued)
When it comes to the Mass, however, asking "how it went" seems out of place. I do not mean that it is offensive, just that it leaves me tongue tied. I do not know how to answer it. This perspective comes, of course, from a place of belief in the Catholic Religion. I would not expect an outsider to have the same understanding or reverence for the Mass as a Catholic has. But how do I answer the question when it comes around, "How was Mass"?
What makes the Mass different from a Protestant service is not merely that it remains virtually the same from Sunday to Sunday, though that is one aspect of it. Neither is it, as some Protestants may suspect, that Catholics lack a personal relationship with God. On the contrary, the union a Christian has with God in the Mass is so profound that asking him afterward "how it went" is like asking a couple, concerning their marital relations last night, "how it went." The question is unfitting because it trivializes something most sacred, personal, and intimate.
What makes the Mass special is that in every Mass, the body and blood of Christ are made present and are offered to God as a Sacrifice, and to man as spiritual life-giving food. The sermon may be rich or vacuous, the music heavenly or banal. We may be in a great mood or having a horrible day. God may give us a mystical experience, or he may withhold his special caresses so that we learn to love him for his own sake. In any case, it is still, always, the Sacrifice of Calvary, the "source and summit" of the Christian life. And that is what matters. That is what public Christian worship is about.
Christ is present at every Mass in a most powerful way, and he always gives himself in a powerful way, because he instituted it for that purpose. His presence does not depend on my feelings, or on the sermon or the music. It does not depend on whether I "really felt the Spirit moving today" or not. God is always there, and our union with him in Holy Communion is always profound. To ask "How was Mass today?" -- to me this is like asking, "How was the Sacrifice of Calvary today?"
(To be continued)
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Traditional Anglicans Coming Home to Rome
Last week Pope Benedict issued the Apostolic Constitution Anglicanorum Coetibus, making it possible for large bodies of Anglicans to become Catholic while retaining much of their Anglican cultural identity and liturgical heritage. It is similar to the "pastoral provision" made in 1980 by Pope John Paul II, but on a larger scale.
The Pope's generous offer was made largely in response to Anglicans (mainly traditional ones not in communion with Canterbury) who petitioned the Holy See. First to accept his offer were the Traditional Anglican Communion of the U.K. What a wonderful opportunity for our separated brethren, and what a marvelous addition to the Latin Church!
Side Note: I have heard a number of people say things like, "Now the Catholic Church will finally start having married priests." Such a ridiculous statement has no basis in fact. For one thing, the Catholic Church has always had married priests, and continues to do so in the Eastern rites. As for married priests in the Latin Church, celibacy remains the norm, and it is a good thing, lived out and recommended by Our Lord and his Apostle Paul. Yes, there will, temporarily, be an increase in the number of married priests in the Western Church, and we are glad to have them aboard; but they will still be far outnumbered by celibate priests, and we are glad to continue the ancient tradition.
The Pope's generous offer was made largely in response to Anglicans (mainly traditional ones not in communion with Canterbury) who petitioned the Holy See. First to accept his offer were the Traditional Anglican Communion of the U.K. What a wonderful opportunity for our separated brethren, and what a marvelous addition to the Latin Church!
Side Note: I have heard a number of people say things like, "Now the Catholic Church will finally start having married priests." Such a ridiculous statement has no basis in fact. For one thing, the Catholic Church has always had married priests, and continues to do so in the Eastern rites. As for married priests in the Latin Church, celibacy remains the norm, and it is a good thing, lived out and recommended by Our Lord and his Apostle Paul. Yes, there will, temporarily, be an increase in the number of married priests in the Western Church, and we are glad to have them aboard; but they will still be far outnumbered by celibate priests, and we are glad to continue the ancient tradition.
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