__ESSAY_________________________________
Liturgical Reform: The Terms of the Debate
Do we look upon the Eucharistic Liturgy as a gift that we should gratefully cherish
and preserve, or as a possession that we may use or alter to suit our purposes?
By Rev. Jerry J. Pokorsky
After celebrating Mass on a recent weekday morning, I found myself speaking with a few of the women of my parish about the changes that had been proposed by the US Bishops’ Committee on Liturgy, for discussion and possible approval at the June 2001 meeting of the American bishops. I explained that among the proposed “adaptations,” the option to stand during the Eucharistic Prayer had been suggested, at the prerogative of individual bishops. Another adaptation, I continued, would give explicit permission for the faithful to extend their hands during the recitation of the Our Father.
My report was soon interrupted by one woman, the young mother of five children, who exclaimed, “But Father, don’t they understand that this is the Mass?” In one sentence, that young mother had summed up the central issue concerning the nature of liturgical reforms since the Second Vatican Council.
Simply stated, the central question is this: Do we look upon the Eucharistic Liturgy as a gift that we should gratefully cherish and preserve, or as a possession that we may use or alter to suit our purposes? It is not the Liturgy that needs to be changed, but the terms of the debate.
This essay was written before the June 2001 meeting of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops (NCCB) in Atlanta. At that meeting the American bishops were scheduled to weigh proposals for more changes to the Liturgy, as they considered adaptations to the new Institutio Generalis Missalis Romani: the document that sets the norms for the celebration of the Mass. These adaptations, if approved, would change the way the Mass is celebrated in the United States.
In any such discussion, the fundamental and overarching questions that must be considered are, “What is the Liturgy?” and, “Does our view of the Liturgy and the proposed changes to the way the Mass is celebrated coincide with its inner nature?” Unless these questions are discussed honestly, and from the viewpoint of Christian principle, the bishops will be playing with an ideologically stacked deck, and the “game” of liturgical reform will inevitably be won by a dangerously activist liturgical establishment and a very small number of bishops.
The current situation
As things stand, the “rules of the game” guarantee relentless and incremental liturgical change because the nature of the debate presumes an ideology of political compromise. The existing—and seriously flawed—terms of the debate over liturgical reform essentially reflect two points of view. Those with the first point of view are said to be “conservative.” They desire a greater sense of “mystery” in the celebration of the Liturgy. Those with the second point of view are “liberal.” They desire more “cultural expression” in the celebration of the Mass. They consider the Liturgy a means of self-expression that should be “relevant” to the local celebrating communities. Hence, there is a continuing need for liturgical adaptation and “inculturation,” even in countries like the United States where the Liturgy had been stable for many years.
It is argued that this tension between liberal and conservative is healthy because agreements can be hammered out over time to reconcile and harmonize the views of liberals and conservatives. This is accomplished through a spirit of compromise. All things must be done in moderation; extremism, which is defined as being “rigid and unbending,” is to be avoided.
According to this “centrist” understanding, not every proposed liturgical adaptation needs to be approved. Some can be negotiated away (perhaps to be reintroduced sometime in the future) as a means by which bishops and liturgists can demonstrate their flexibility and preserve the trust of liturgical “conservatives,” even while approving some other innovations. The proliferation of liturgical options is seen as good, because it gives the local community the ability to celebrate “creative” and “inclusive” liturgies. But the process of liturgical reform is not always smooth. Sometimes it is necessary to root out unbending rigidity where it is found, lest the process be disrupted by “divisiveness.”
So, following this logic, the process of “liturgical reform” begins with the Liturgy as approved by the universal Church. Depending upon the preponderance of innovative liturgical practices (most of which, of course, are unauthorized), liturgical “adaptations” are then proposed. (Contemporary liturgical adaptations are almost always “progressive” by nature. If there are “traditional” adaptations, by definition they are not “adaptations” at all; they are merely affirmations or clarifications of pre-existing liturgical practice.) All of the liturgical adaptations are submitted to the body of bishops for debate. The views of “liberal” and “conservative” bishops are heard. In negotiation, some adaptations are eliminated, others are approved, and thus “moderate” liturgical reform is finally realized.
Relentless incremental reform
Under these unwritten rules of debate, the question is not whether the Liturgy will be transformed, but
how fast the Liturgy will be transformed. Recent history suggests that any liturgical adaptations, even “moderate” changes, tend to deform the Liturgy. So even if the bishops who promote traditional liturgical practices succeed in reducing the proposed liturgical adaptations by half, they have still lost the game. The “compromise” is illusory, because an adaptation which does not win approval this year will reappear at some later date.
Consider, for example, the proposal that the “judgment of the diocesan bishop is to be followed” regarding whether the people should kneel or stand during the Eucharistic Prayer. (Of course “standing during the Eucharistic Prayer” almost always includes standing during the Consecration—a gesture that violates the Church’s universal legislation.) This is a repackaging of Cardinal Joseph Bernardin’s amendment to the liturgy committee’s proposed adaptations to the revised Sacramentary prepared by the International Commission on English in the Liturgy (ICEL) and considered by the American bishops in June 1995. At that time, Cardinal Bernard F. Law of Boston was among the bishops who took exception to the adaptation. He objected to the option as a serious breakdown in uniformity in the celebration of the Mass across the country. During that meeting, the liturgy committee decided to withdraw Cardinal Bernardin’s motion.
Why would the liturgy committee resurrect this proposal in 2001? The answer seems to have little to do with authentic liturgical renewal. It has everything to do with a relentless demand that liturgical legislation recognize existing unauthorized liturgical practices. In fact the proposal to permit standing at the discretion of individual bishops not only does violence to the uniform and traditional celebration of the Mass, it is also a concession that the bishops have lost control of the Liturgy with a de facto breakdown of the Roman Rite.
Among the other unauthorized liturgical practices the liturgy committee sought to ratify by way of liturgical adaptation are:
• Substituting the Apostles’ Creed for the Nicene Creed (a common technique employed to avoid the alleged “sexist” language of the Nicene Creed);
• Using the orans posture of prayer, a distinctly priestly gesture, during the Our Father.
Of course, these liturgical practices have been chronic aberrations for years. Few bishops have taken exception to the practices. In fact, few bishops spend much time correcting unauthorized liturgical practices in their parishes. Since the “genie is out of the bottle,” it is often argued that “we can’t go back” to traditional practices. The reason “we can’t go back,” of course, is that there is no will to discipline those who engage in unauthorized liturgical innovations.
The continuing liturgical crisis
The extended debate over the liturgical texts in the 1990s was also usually resolved in compromise, with grudging concessions by the liturgy committee. Consequently, the newly revised Sunday Lectionary, although doctrinally sound, reads as a compromise document with respect to so-called “inclusive language.” It would be hard to imagine anyone saying that the texts truly
harmonize the transcendent and immanent imagery of the Scriptures. Most readers would agree the revised English translation of the Lectionary at times sounds like a committee report.
The professed effort to harmonize or reconcile the transcendent dimension of the Liturgy with the immanent dimension is ultimately a mirage. There hasn’t been reconciliation; there cannot be. There has only been strife. The reason has to do with continuing failure to understand the nature of liturgical reform.
As a cultural pattern, consumerism certainly has had a serious debilitating effect on the Liturgy, just as it has resulted in serious economic dislocations, selfishness, and injustice. Consumerism involves an excessive desire to possess and accumulate. Similarly, individualism involves an excessive desire for self-reliance. Do the consumer mentality and American individualism affect the popular attitude toward the Mass?
The answer to that question does not involve the issue of “inculturation.” Quite the contrary, the problem is a failure to identify the negative cultural forces that have deformed elements of the sacred Liturgy.
Recognizing liturgical breakdown
It is interesting to note that, before proposing the latest “adaptations” to the Liturgy, the bishops’ liturgy committee only consulted the body of bishops and professional liturgists. Perhaps it was impractical to consult ordinary practicing Catholics. Yet it is no secret that the ordinary practicing Catholic can no longer rely upon the basic unity of the Roman Rite even within the United States. The distress that many faithful Catholics experience when traveling and attending Mass in unfamiliar parishes is palpable. This may account for a greater emphasis placed by the Holy See over the past decade on unified worship. Could it be that many liturgical experts are behind the times?
The atomization of the Liturgy in many respects indicates that the Liturgy is no longer seen as a gift to be received from the Church, but as a kind of social activity to be manipulated by cliques of liturgical elites. Hence, the proliferation of liturgical options is seen as a means to satisfy divergent demands. But as liturgical options increase, the Liturgy is atomized; the differences between parishes and dioceses are not extinguished, but accentuated. And the atomization of the Liturgy will be accelerated if the adaptations suggested by the liturgy committee are approved.
For example, Catholic faithful who travel across diocesan—and parish—boundaries are quick to report a common but unauthorized practice of standing during the Eucharistic Prayer. What are the consequences of this widespread disdain for the liturgical guidelines of the universal Church? If recent history is any indication, bad liturgical behavior is almost always rewarded. The practice of receiving Communion in the hand, and the use of female altar servers, began as unauthorized practices and eventually were ratified by the Church. If standing during the Eucharistic Prayer is also ratified, the bishops will encourage future unauthorized experiments. Falsely labeled “adaptations,” these liturgical accretions amount to the further breakdown and atomization of the Roman Rite.
The problem of “inclusive language”
The promotion of so-called “inclusive language” is frequently at the heart of the liturgical debate. The basic idea behind “inclusive language” is to appease the sensibilities of feminists and to tame an alleged male domination in the Church. Because it goes contrary to traditional (and hence normal) English, “inclusive language” draws attention to itself, thus accomplishing the important “consciousness-raising” phase of any ideological agenda. Every time a priest introduces a prayer with “Sisters and brothers . . . ,” the congregation becomes aware of an overt attempt to promote sensitivity to issues of gender. But another strong message is communicated. The priest has revealed that he has taken sides; he has conceded that the English language is indeed inherently “sexist” and that the English language itself should be used to advance contemporary ideology. This “consciousness-raising” and “taking sides” is precisely the problem.
In order to avoid using “his” or “him” in reference to God, the American bishops in 1990 instructed liturgical translators to feel free to substitute “God,” if possible, to eliminate male references. Many did not wait to see such changes in the new official translations of the Mass. Priests who have had the misfortune of celebrating Mass in some convents frequently hear a chorus of female voices recite this prayer during the Offertory: “May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of God’s [not “His”] name, for our good and the good of God’s [not “His”] Church.”
But if “inclusive language” is intended to eliminate the inordinate male references in English, the effect—as illustrated by the above example—is ultimately to highlight the tensions between male and female, God and man. God’s transcendence is accentuated by a prejudice against referring to God with the familiar, familial, and biblical word of personal relationship, “Father.” The permission granted by Christ to his disciples to call God “Father” is tacitly called into question.
Further, the use of “inclusive language” tends to call inordinate attention to “maleness” in liturgical language when, for theological reasons, it is impossible to use another term. The proposed ICEL Sacramentary, approved by the American bishops but not yet confirmed by the Holy See, systematically excluded the generic use of “man” and “mankind” throughout the English translation. However, when there was no theologically orthodox choice but to translate Homo factus est as “He became man” in the Nicene Creed, the phrase tends to accentuate the “maleness” of Jesus rather than his assumption of human nature.
Those who see compromise as a means of reconciling liberal and conservative positions even use the ideological phrase “moderate inclusive language” to describe the results of their work. But the use of “inclusive language” divides the Liturgy by serving a feminist ideological agenda. Ideologies are based on philosophical systems that do not express the full truth of Christ. Hence ideologies contain irreconcilable admixtures of truth and error, good and evil. Admitting the “inclusive language” ideology into the Liturgy—or any other ideology—admits to an absurd possibility of reconciling good and bad, truth and error.
One of the most poignant moments of Pope John Paul II’s pontificate occurred during the celebration of Mass in Nicaragua during the regime of the Sandinistas. The Sandinistas attempted to promote their Communist ideology by substituting posters and slogans for the crucifix and other Christian symbols during the celebration of an open-air Mass. The Holy Father was not intimidated. As he celebrated the Mass, in courageous defiance of the regime, he himself held the processional crucifix in position at the altar. Ideological influences on the Liturgy must be addressed openly and without equivocation.
Mischievous adaptations
Some other proposed adaptations merely formalize existing rights. The result may appear to be, at worst, irrelevant. For example, the liturgical norms proposed by the liturgy committee would give diocesan bishops the authority to designate “special days of prayer” for particular causes. But every bishop
already has that authority—just as every priest has the right to use the variations allowed by the Roman Missal when he celebrates Mass. But giving the appearance of legislating existing rights is in fact mischievous. To identify these pastoral rights in a proposed “liturgical adaptation” suggests that the rights flow from the bishops’ conference.
In a sense, such an “adaptation” suggests that the universal Church does not have the authority to grant the rights to bishops in the first place. An analogy would be if the US Congress passed a law guaranteeing the “right to free speech.” Who would feel threatened by the law? But of course the US Constitution already guarantees that right, which should make the federal law irrelevant. Such a hypothetical law, over time, would encourage Americans to believe that their constitutional rights are guaranteed by statutory law, not by the Constitution itself. Hence the stage would be set for future political log-rolling on basic rights, in which the Constitution need not be discussed. Similarly, liturgical adaptations that merely repeat existing Church law set the stage for debates in which the universal Church law need not be invoked—debates in which bishops and priests would no longer be considered the primary liturgists of dioceses and parishes.
The liturgy committee also proposes: “Fabrics, both natural and artificial, other than the traditional ones may be used for sacred vesture provided they are suitable for liturgical use, subject to the further judgment of the diocesan bishop in doubtful cases.” But what are non-traditional “fabrics”? In any case, has there ever been an instance in which any bishop has taken exception to any vestment? If so, would this “adaptation” be necessary to further enhance the bishop’s authority in the matter? Or would the net effect of this adaptation be to encourage the use of non-traditional fabrics?
It is not unusual to hear priests who are very attentive to approved liturgical legislation admit that they periodically need to correct their practices as they become aware of a new detail about the proper celebration of the Mass. This happens in the best of times. But the problem will certainly be aggravated with the multiplication of options.
Additionally, there is a danger that a proliferation of liturgical options will, in effect, shift the authority over the liturgy from the local bishop and his priests to national, diocesan, and local liturgical commissions. There will be a perceived perpetual need for “liturgy planning;” priests and even bishops will be expected to defer to the “experts.” Just as the perpetual updating of liturgical translations ensures full employment for members of ICEL, the proliferation of liturgical options ensures the secure employment of liturgical bureaucracies.
Legalistic manipulation
As liturgical options proliferate, there is also a problem of legalism. The problem has several parts. First, there may be—and there often appears to be—an agenda visibly at work in the way liturgical adaptations are drafted. Certain ambiguities can be (deliberately, one suspects) written into the legislation to allow for future exploitation.
If “compromise” is the name of the game, why wouldn’t the players favor ambiguity in liturgical legislation? Ambiguity introduces uncertainty, and uncertainty allows for accretions under the cover of continuing liturgical reform.
At times, there are attempts to satisfy every point of view: an impossible task. One proposed liturgical adaptation considered by the American bishops in June 2001 reads as follows: “As a general rule, the people kneel beginning after the singing or recitation of the Sanctus until after the Amen of the Eucharistic Prayer. The judgment of the diocesan bishop is to be followed.” The effect of an adaptation that promotes kneeling as a “general rule” during the Eucharistic Prayer may appear to satisfy “conservatives.” At the same time, the “liberal” desire to stand during the Eucharistic Prayer is satisfied provided they reside in the diocese of a sufficiently “liberal” bishop.
But the proposed adaptation is incoherent. If kneeling is the “general rule,” individual bishops should have little to say in the matter. But bishops are instructed to establish diocesan policy. If history is any indication, many bishops will permit “local decisions” in regard to the question of posture, thereby fueling the fire of differences among parishes. Ultimately, this ambiguous proposed adaptation will do nothing to resolve the tension between “left” and “right.” Instead, both sides would be encouraged to quote selectively from the legislation.
Even when liturgical legislation is drafted in good faith, those who receive it often read it legalistically. For example, while liturgical legislation insists that the homily be given by a priest or deacon, many priests still permit nuns or laymen to preach after the Gospel, insisting that they are not giving “homilies,” but rather offering Gospel “reflections.” Of course, these priests are neglecting to recognize that a homily is required on Sunday and feast days.
The cumulative effect of diverse liturgical options is not only an atomization of the Liturgy. What ought not to be overlooked is a serious breakdown in trust, which results in suspicion on all sides. The possibility that liturgical norms would be violated as the result of a “good faith” error is rarely considered, because “good faith” is hardly ever demonstrated within the context of an ideological conflict.
“Creative Liturgies”
The proliferation of liturgical options also cultivates the attitude that the sacred Liturgy is something to be created, not received. Not surprisingly, contemporary popular liturgical books are filled with advice on “creative liturgies.” The very phrase reveals an attitude of possession rather than reception—of devising, rather than actively entering into, the sacred mystery. This popular emphasis on “creative liturgies,” however, should not surprise us. It mirrors a consumerist and individualistic Western culture.
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger anticipated the problems with periodic revisions of liturgical texts to take into account contemporary trends and ideologies. He warns against violating the liturgical rule of “organic growth from existing forms” in his 1981 book, Feast of Faith: “Even the official new books [of the liturgy], occasionally show far too many signs of being drawn up by academics and reinforce the notion that a liturgical book can be ‘made’ like any other book.”
Further, Cardinal Ratzinger argues:
Liturgy does not come about through regulation. One of the weaknesses of the postconciliar liturgical reform can doubtless be traced to the armchair strategy of academics, drawing up things on paper which, in fact, would presuppose years of organic growth.
“Creative liturgies” should not be confused with the spirit of genuine spontaneity in the Liturgy. A friend once told me how, at an ordination Mass some time ago, when the ordination class happened to be unusually large, there was an overwhelming sense of joy during the celebration of the Mass. As the Mass came to an end and the newly ordained priests solemnly processed out, several of the mothers burst from the pews to embrace their boys. That eruption could not have been anticipated. Strictly speaking, liturgical legislation does not allow for such a spontaneous outburst. But it was an outburst of joy, very much in keeping with the spirit of the Liturgy. In a profound sense, it was “sacred”—so sacred that even the crafting of liturgical directives to accommodate the spontaneity would be absurd. Although there may be a need to warn future generations against any effort to institutionalize such “spontaneity,” a one-time spontaneous act would be no real violation of the nature of Liturgy.
Other forms of “spontaneity,” however, are alien to the Liturgy. The expressions of affection during the Sign of Peace are frequently inappropriate, if spontaneous. They are certainly expressions of wasteful self-indulgence, but at times they even border on the obscene. Liturgical legislation warning against this frequently orchestrated accretion to the Liturgy would be perfectly justified.
The liturgy committee proposes that “[t]he people may extend their hands, using the ancient traditional gesture of communal prayer (the orans gesture), during the Lord’s Prayer. The gesture is chosen by each person individually.” But diverse individualistic practices during the Lord’s Prayer—from holding hands (arguably a “traditional” gesture of family prayer) to Pentecostal exuberance—are already a pastoral problem. If the orans gesture is, as the liturgy committee explains, an “ancient traditional gesture” worthy of reinstatement, why does the Holy See need the American bishops to remind them of the practice? Might there have been a good reason to suppress this priestly gesture on the part of the people?
The American “adaptations” ought to have a distinctly American tradition behind them, rooted in devotion and free from ideology. The American practice of kneeling after the Sanctus until the end of the Eucharistic Prayer reflects a profound devotion to the Blessed Eucharist. Until recent years, there has been an uninterrupted American tradition above and beyond the universal requirement of kneeling during the Consecration (from the epiclesis to the Mysterium Fidei).
The liturgy committee’s proposed adaptation that allows the priest or deacon to instruct the people to kneel during the Penitential Rite is not just an example of an alteration to the Roman Rite. It is another option that tends to distract the people while keeping them dependent upon the priest or deacon. Again, the question of “inculturation” arises. Why is this a distinctly “American” practice?
It is possible, of course, to continue with the dreary details of liturgical accretions. But approval of these types of adaptations would encourage further individualistic practices and continued liturgical experimentation.
A fragmented Liturgy that cannot be recognized from diocese to diocese, or from parish to parish, has self-evidently lost its universal character and fails to convey the universality of the Church, as well as the reliability of her spiritual gifts, throughout the ages. This is clear from anecdotal evidence. There can be no argument that priests who aspire to celebrate Mass according to the authentic and binding liturgical legislation are usually—and pejoratively—considered “conservative.” And if conversation among these priests is any indication, there is genuine anxiety at the prospect of celebrating Mass outside their respective diocesan boundaries—an anxiety that matches that felt by lay Catholics when they travel outside their own parishes. Priests and laity alike have ample reason for concern that they will be ambushed by some unauthorized local “liturgical custom.”
The use of liturgical adaptations to buttress “creative” liturgies is indeed capricious. Priests and liturgists are no longer servants of the Liturgy. In the name of relevance and pastoral necessity, priests and liturgists become the masters of the Liturgy. The norms of communal worship, like a faithful and loving spouse, should be reliable and predictable
The problem of dependence
Ironically, the individualist can emerge in the guise of benefactor. The multiplication of options in the Liturgy contributes to the mentality in which the priest and/or liturgy committee takes responsibility for “planning” the Liturgy to make it “relevant” to the community. Hence, it is not uncommon for a celebrant, at the end of Mass, to thank each of the people who “created” the Liturgy. Instead of recognizing themselves as the guardians and custodians of the sacred Liturgy, priests—together with their liturgy committees—often convey an attitude that they dispense the sacred mysteries on their own authority. In contrast, the “prayers of thanksgiving” in the Roman Missal provide the proper attitude of humble thanksgiving after celebrating Mass.
An autonomous individual—or an autonomous group of individuals—resents dependence on others. The rugged liturgical individualist is incapable of a spirit of thanksgiving because a spirit of thanksgiving requires one to acknowledge dependence upon a benefactor. Dependence is also equated with a restriction of liberty. Hence, we often hear certain individuals and liturgical groups impugning the alleged restrictive evils of “rubricism.” But rubrics and traditional liturgical legislation ought not be considered “constraints to freedom.” Rather, rubrics ought to be considered the gifts that they are.
From a strictly practical point of view, this should be clear: Imagine the pressure of coming up with a “new and improved” Liturgy every Sunday. It is also noteworthy to observe that if traditional liturgical practices are observed, a parish can survive with one priest. But if there is a substantial increase in liturgical adaptations, then parishes need a growing number of full and part-time “liturgical experts” and assistants to get the same job done. Of course, some may consider this a healthy development as a matter of “active participation” in the Liturgy. But this only leads to a further bureaucratization of the Church’s sacramental life with an unhealthy emphasis on the “functional” priesthood.
The irrelevance of episcopal authority
Even if the bishops in fact intend to bring about liturgical reform through the proliferation of options, it must be admitted that with every approved option, the bishop’s own authority becomes less relevant. Increasingly, bishops who legislate “options” reflecting the culture in fact become servants of the culture rather than servants of the Liturgy.
When female altar servers were permitted by the Holy See, most of the American bishops scrambled to approve the option in their dioceses. A few of the bishops even claimed more authority than they actually had, decreeing that every parish would be required to have female altar servers. But what appeared to be a grand gesture of inclusion has turned out to be an ineffectual pandering to the feminist ideology. By approving female altar servers, the Church in America has failed to appease the feminists. (The nature of the Church does not allow for compromise with the feminist agenda, insofar as it promotes goals which the Church can never endorse, such as legal abortion and the ordination of women.) Meanwhile most of the bishops have squandered an important anthropological and traditional means to promote the nuptial meaning of the Mass and the authentic complementarity of the sexes.
It is human nature to grow weary of the failure of discipline. Predictably, then, there has been a good deal of weariness associated with the multiplication of liturgical options and the atomization of liturgical practices. This weariness normally would come as good news to those who have encouraged a return to liturgical stability and sanity. But the legacy of thirty years of liturgical reform is bitter. Bishops have shown themselves far more likely to discipline traditional priests who transgress liturgical guidelines than to curb “progressive” transgressions that seek to adapt to the prevailing culture. In some dioceses, priests who refuse to use female altar servers—as is their right—are considered a more serious threat to Church discipline than those who use the Mass for any passing trend.
A certain alarming pattern has emerged. As weariness with the number of options sets in, the stage is set for a reconstruction of the Liturgy according to the latest fashions. For example, reception of Holy Communion at the communion rail once was the norm in most American churches. But the post-conciliar option to receive Holy Communion while standing appeared at first to be a functional alternative. The practice quickly grew to be the norm, except in the more traditional parishes. In recent years, many priests and some bishops have simply refused to distribute Communion in the traditional fashion, even where the communion rail remains in place. At the moment, the option to receive Communion “on the tongue or in the hand” remains “at the discretion of each communicant.” But one of the proposed adaptations to the liturgy considered by the US bishops in June directs: “The posture for reception of Holy Communion in the dioceses of the United States is standing.” If this “adaptation” is approved, another traditional practice will be outlawed.
In this fashion, liturgical reform continues to be defined by a sort of Marxist dialectic that works in the following way:
1) A traditional practice is supplemented by an option. Usually—as with Communion in the hand and female altar servers—the formal introduction of this option is preceded by years of unauthorized usage.
2) Objections to the multiplication of options are dismissed. The objections are answered in two ways: First, the traditional practice will continue to be an option, so why worry? Second, in any case, there are far more serious problems in the world; why nitpick at the details of the Liturgy?
3) The option edges out the traditional practice over time, often through coercion.The new options, from the point of view of the culture, are more appealing than the traditional practices and are therefore used more commonly. (Examples that could be cited include the second Eucharistic Prayer as opposed to the Roman Canon; the short form of the Penitential Rite as opposed to the Confiteor; and “upbeat” contemporary music for funerals as opposed to the Dies Irae.)
4) The traditional practice (e.g., exclusively male altar servers) is disparaged by liturgists, priests, and even some bishops. In some cases (as with the option for female altar servers) the option instantly becomes the norm in practice, and those who hesitate to adopt it are punished with ill will and bad press.
5) The option finally emerges as the only authorized liturgical practice and the traditional practice is excluded in official liturgical legislation.
With slight variations, this pattern can be recognized with respect to these post-conciliar liturgical innovations: Communion in the hand; the removal of altar rails; female altar servers; Communion under both species; celebrating Mass facing the people instead of ad orientem; placement of the tabernacle; general absolution; moving holy days of obligation to Sunday; glass chalices; substantial bread instead of traditional hosts; the purging of Latin from the Liturgy.
The liturgy committee appears to be continuing this dialectic process. The committee has suggested the “optional” use of “materials other than the traditional ones” in sacred vessels and “[m]aterials other than traditional ones” for sacred furnishings, as well as non-traditional variations to the colors of altar cloths. Would approval of these variations set the stage for the exclusion of traditional practices at some time in the future?
Where do we go from here?
Many who have participated in the liturgical debates believe that the key issue is the need to reconcile the “transcendent dimension” of the Liturgy with the “immanent dimension”— to preserve the sense of inaccessible mystery while simultaneously encouraging a sense of community and enlightened methods of “inculturation.” This “conservative/liberal” analysis has a certain face-value appeal, especially in light of the earnest desire of bishops to close fissures within the Church. Unfortunately, the argument framed in this way is non-biblical.
There are several problems associated with setting the terms of the argument as an argument between “conservative” and “liberal,” or competing desires for more “transcendent” forms or more “immanent” forms in the Liturgy. The debate framed in this way represents a return to the tensions endured by the ancient pagan religions. In the pagan religions, any concept of “love” and “union” with the divinities was overshadowed by the concepts of domination, submission, rebellion, and appeasement. But domination and appeasement have nothing to do with the fact and imagery of a loving nuptial covenant, to which the freedom of both spouses is indispensable.
The argument before the American bishops simply cannot be reduced to a contest between prudential judgments that favor, on the one hand, an emphasis on the transcendent or, on the other hand, an emphasis on the immanent. If there were chronic tensions between transcendent and immanent liturgical expressions, the tension would reveal a fundamental flaw in Catholic faith in the Incarnation. The fundamental question would not be how to harmonize, but whether the transcendent and the immanent can be harmonized; whether the human and divine can be reconciled. But for a Christian to ask “whether the transcendent and immanent can be reconciled” is to deny the historical fact of the Incarnation.
The true debate over liturgical reform is really a debate involving two irreconcilable points of view. The first point of view understands the Liturgy as a divine gift, the essential forms of which need to be handed down intact to future generations. The second point of view sees the Liturgy as a human possession, to be used for purposes of self-expression and therefore subject to human manipulation.
The first point of view—which is the orthodox Catholic point of view—understands that those who participate in the sacred Liturgy receive, as a radically free gift, the Person of Christ. In receiving—but only by actively receiving—can one say that he “possesses” the Liturgy so that it can be handed on. Still, it would be better to say that we do not “possess” the Liturgy but are “transformed” by Christ through the Liturgy and become adopted “sons in the Son.”
God and man reconciled
As a historical fact, the reconciliation of God and man has taken place in the revelation of God’s covenant with his chosen people, a covenant that is brought to completion in the new and everlasting covenant of Jesus Christ. The covenant of the Old Testament, increasingly revealed in nuptial terms, is perfected with the revelation of the divine “Word made flesh” and the perfect sacrifice of Christ. Christ, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, “Word of the Father,” in his Person perfectly reconciles God and man. Hence an alleged dichotomy between human cultural expressions and divine sacred mysteries is a false construction.
The consequences of this unity of Christ are described by St. Augustine in the Office of Readings for the Feast of the Ascension:
Christ is now exalted above all the heavens, but he still suffers on earth all the pain that we, the members of his body have to bear . . . . While in heaven he is also with us; and while on earth we are with him. He is here with us by his divinity, his power, and his love. We cannot be in heaven, as he is on earth, by divinity, but in him we can be there by love.
The mystery of the Incarnation reveals the perfect compatibility of God’s divinity with man’s humanity; the institution of the New Covenant reveals the nuptial union of Christ with his Bride, the Church. The obedience of Christ was not arbitrary or imposed. His obedience was a perfectly free and loving human response to the Father’s will as well as a response of love for his Bride. Hence God’s will is not imposed on man; it is offered as a gift. “Love, then consists in this: not that we have loved God but that he has loved us and has sent his Son as an offering for our sins.” (1 John 4:10) Of course man is free to rebel, and sacred Scripture documents the bitter legacy of man’s rebellion. But God does not force his gifts on us. God’s will heals and fulfills man and calls for a response of love and obedience. This is what we mean when we say that we are liberated in Christ.
The Church’s obedience to the command of Christ at the Last Supper, “Do this in remembrance of me,” is expressed in the celebration of the sacrifice of the Mass, the sacred Liturgy. The Church and the Liturgy are not merely empirical or functional realities. The Church is the second Eve, inseparable from the second Adam, Christ. And the Incarnation is always the “whole Christ,” as in the second Eve’s conception of her Lord; or the “whole Christ,” as in the second Adam’s institution of the New Covenant, by which the Church, the second Eve, comes to be.
Organic growth
The form of the Mass—in particular, the form of the Roman Rite—is the result of centuries of organic development, not a result of the manipulation by “experts.” The Second Vatican Council solemnly affirmed a fundamental principle of liturgical reform, that “there must be no innovations unless the good of the Church genuinely and certainly requires them . . .” and “any new forms adopted should in some way grow organically from forms already existing.” In biology, any growth that is not natural to the organism is considered a disease. In the Liturgy, any growth that is not natural to the celebration of the Mass is an accretion.
Hence, the purpose of liturgical legislation is twofold. The first purpose is pedagogical: to ensure that the Liturgy is being celebrated in the proper fashion. But not every detail of the celebration is documented. For example, until recently, the gesture of signing one’s forehead, lips, and heart before the Gospel is proclaimed was an undocumented but universal practice. Similarly, there was no particular need to legislate kneeling after the Agnus Dei in America. The gesture of reverence was a uniform traditional response. Only recently, when liturgical legalists called the practice in question, was it presumed to be necessary to address the practice.
The second purpose of liturgical legislation is to guard the Liturgy against accretions and to identify (at least tacitly) and correct unauthorized liturgical practices. Liturgical legislation is—or ought to be—a means to prevent accretions that threaten to distort the Liturgy as the “One Sacrifice.” The contemporary impulse to lard over a traditional Liturgy with a multiplicity of liturgical adaptations disfigures the Liturgy. The details of authentic liturgical legislation protect the integrity of the Mass which is, after all, the marriage of heaven and earth, sealed by the blood of the Cross. It is comforting for a Catholic to find a recognizable heavenly home at Mass in any Catholic Church on Sunday morning.
In some respects, the traditional forms of the celebration of the Liturgy carry more weight than liturgical legislation. There should be no need to have elaborate explanations governing such things as the intricate details of liturgical vestments or the propriety of particular church decorations. These details are not “inconsequential.” But priests and bishops simply and properly rely on traditional forms. The organic growth of the liturgy over the centuries ensures that Christians are not overly conscious of, or distracted by, the forms of the Liturgy.
At times, adherence to tradition will guard against tendencies that are quite natural, but not liturgically desirable. For example, there is no question that having a choir of children singing a sentimental hymn is engaging and cute. But assembling the recipients of First Communion in front of the altar for a “post-Communion hymn”—while it undeniably appeals to parents and teachers—is alien to the celebration, even though there is no explicit liturgical legislation that can be invoked against the practice. The parental response is natural and human. But because it is misplaced, and because this innovation in practice makes the hymn the “center” of the Mass, a priest’s refusal to permit the practice is an example of sound liturgical catechesis.
Again, the form of the Liturgy ought not interfere with the celebration by drawing attention to itself. This fundamental principle should not only curtail liturgical novelties, but also prevent the reintroduction of liturgical artifacts. It would be odd, for example, for someone to say after the Mass, “The Lavabo rite was particularly meaningful today.” The comment would reveal that something unusual—and no doubt unauthorized—took place during the Lavabo rite. But it is just as odd for someone to observe, “The blessing of the four winds was most impressive today.” Such comments show that something out of the ordinary—something alien—has been introduced into the Liturgy. The forms of the Mass should not edge out the Eucharist as the center of attention.
In fact, however, many liturgical adaptations undermine traditional liturgical practices. A good example is the permission to insert a eulogy at the end of a funeral Mass. The permission was granted when the detail was inserted into the revised ICEL translation of the funeral ritual in the 1980s. (The Latin original makes no mention of a eulogy, but somehow it was included in the ICEL translation. The Vatican—which at the time was routinely confirming almost any text prepared by ICEL—quickly approved this novelty.) Now the eulogy often becomes the central event of the funeral Mass.
Cardinal Ratzinger warns of the grave pastoral consequences of liturgical adaptations to the Liturgy: “I am convinced that a superficial or overhasty adaptation, far from attracting respect for Christianity, would only raise doubts as to its sincerity and the seriousness of its message.” Fifteen years later, at the June 1995 meeting of American bishops, Archbishop William Levada, then of Portland, reiterated the same concern over liturgical adaptations:
The Roman rite has its own intrinsic structure and liturgical forms enshrined in a centuries-old tradition which has spread—thanks to remarkable missionary effort—throughout the world. This structure would be rendered practically unidentifiable through the adoption of the variations and changes proposed by ICEL.
This is not to suggest that every traditional form must be preserved in the Liturgy. Some traditional forms, such as the clerical biretta, may now themselves be distractions. Worn by an elderly priest, the biretta is part of his clerical ensemble which includes his grey hair. But when worn by a young priest, the biretta takes on the form of an isolated “artifact,” alien to the Mass as most of the faithful know it. Priests must exercise great care lest the forms of the Liturgy—even “insignificant” forms—become a distraction.
The principle of “organic growth from existing forms” is a valuable safeguard against innovations that would disrupt the continuing revelation and expression of the “new and everlasting covenant.” In the process, the Church’s doctrine of the Incarnation, and the fact of man’s reconciliation with God in the New Covenant, are protected.
True liturgical reform will not come with the invention of new options to “harmonize” the transcendent with the immanent. Nor will it come in the form of compromises between conservatives who seek mystery and liberals who favor diverse cultural expressions. The celebration of the Mass is most in accordance with the mind of the Church when the details of the liturgical forms do not distract the faithful from entering into the sacred mysteries.
Father Jerry J. Pokorsky is the rector of St. Peter’s church in Washington, Virginia, and co-founder of Credo.