Twisted

There's been something I've been turning over in my mind for a few days, and it disturbs me greatly, because it's not something I can do much to fix. 

We know that every great gift God gives us can be twisted and used for evil.  Sexuality, internet...and music, for example.  

This week one of my catechists brought in some Gregorian Chant for his students.  In the fall, we'd had an event for all the religious ed. kids, and in it we played Chant.  Many of them enjoyed the music, or inquired about it, and this catechist's class wanted to know more. 

I stopped in at his class at the end of the session, although I'd missed the music portion, he turned it back on for me while the boys were leaving.  

One of them expressed his opinion as only a middle school boy can:  "I hate it. I can't stand it!"

It doesn't bother me that he doesn't like the music; whether it is liked or not is not a factor in the fact that it is proper liturgical music, and his personal preferences doesn't change that. 

But what DOES bother me was his qualifier, for he gave the clear reason for his dislike:   "It's creepy. It sounds like it's from a horror movie.  Scary music."  

Right there, in a nutshell;  there's the problem.  

Gregorian chant has been corrupted by media, and now, in a traditional Pavlovian way, our younger generations now think it's creepy. 

I've written before on the use of Catholic symbols and music in movies or television shows that portray a Catholic Church or anything related to Catholicism.  Even though one rarely enters a church these days to the prayerful chanting of a schola,  EVERY. SINGLE. PRODUCTION uses this music to cue us in to the religion being attacked...uh...portrayed.   Catholic. 

The horror genre is especially gleeful in its use of Gregorian Chant in scary sequences, say, when introducing a vampire or a corrupt priest. Or maybe the priest is fine, but we know that when we hear Chant, a demon-infested child is about to appear and screech in writhing agony, terrifying everyone...with the chant sedately playing in the background, human voices apparently disinterested at the intense suffering taking place in their presence. 

The use of this music in media venues has quite literally caused our younger generations to look at the horrible things going on in the picture, while the music plays, and voila! They now associate evil and Gregorian Chant. 

It's not surprising.  

And what about every freaking show that has a corrupt priest in it?  A Pedophile priest?  A faithful priest who has maybe heard the confession of an abuser (either clergy or lay) and (RIGHTLY!) refuses to break the seal of the confessional?  What's playing in the background?  Gregorian Chant. 

I would suggest that although individuals in Hollywood might not have been consciously considering the Pavlovian training they've been providing to their lab subjects (i.e.  us), the One they serve knew exactly what he was doing. 

Oh, yes, the smoke of Satan, as St. Pius X called it.  (Was it St. Pius X?).  

And when something pure and beautiful, something that is prayer and praise and thanksgiving to God becomes associated with something evil, that can send a very strong message.  It's not subliminal;  it's obvious. And odious. 

That's what the middle school boy observed, and it's how he's been indoctrinated. 

So when we, or his catechist, in doing something good, brings Gregorian Chant into an event or classroom, rather than being calming, it's natural that some students are going to have a violent dislike of what they're hearing. 

And how the Evil One must be gleefully rejoicing in his eternal damnation.  

So. Now we realize the problem.  Now we have to combat it. And the ONLY way to do that is to use it more, to associate it with good things, with fun things, with HOLY things. The answer isn't to take it away just because it's been warped by our cultural corruption;  the answer is to bring it back, gently, persistently, prayerfully, and let God do the rest.  

Thankfully, not every child had that reaction, and that likely speaks more about what the parents are allowing their children to see at home (which concerns me more than the child's reaction).  We need to realize that this beauty, Gregorian Chant, this great gift of the Church, which Vatican II said specifically must maintain a high place in the liturgy, NEEDS to be used!  If it's never heard at Mass, guess where the kids are getting it, and with what they are associating it!?

We wouldn't have this problem if parishes were obedient to the directives of Vatican II.  

Our fallen nature corrupts everything we touch;  but the good news is that God created us to be directed towards Him. To elevate our wills, our intellect, everything...to Him. And that means we can still turn this ship around and point it back in His direction. We can save our symbols, we can save our music, we can save our children through being holy, through using what has always been holy...for the proper purpose. 

And that will make ALL the difference in the world. 

If we don't use what we've been given, it will be commandeered for evil. That's a fact, and it's happened, and continues to happen. We NEED to bring back Chant; it belongs to OUR tradition, it is part of OUR patrimony, and its misuse is affecting OUR children in a very negative way! 

I look forward to the discussion in the combox. 

*

 

Finding Jesus in the Temple

During class this last semester, in Spiritual Theology our professor introduced us to Plato's cave analogy. In that analogy, Plato describes some men who are bound, facing the wall of a cave. Behind them is a road, and beyond the road, a fire, which provides the backlight needed to cast the shadows that the bound men observe. And in the reverberating voices, the bound men believe that the shadows themselves are speaking.

And then the men are unbound, and made to walk. As they turn, they observe the road, and the people who had caused the shadows represented on the wall, and they see that the voices emit from them, not from the shadows they had cast. The now-unbound prisoners walk up the road, past the fire, and towards the mouth of the cave where the sun begins to light it. Yet they do not know the cause of the light until they emerge from the darkness.

The analogy goes on, obviously discussing something akin to one of St. Thomas Aquinas's proofs of God..the First Cause, the Unmoved Mover. But there is a deeper meaning.

The first Sunday of Advent, I attended my first TLM (Extraordinary Form) Mass, and found it beautiful. Not earth-shattering, but suddenly things made sense. It was proper. It took what I knew intellectually, and made it real, almost tangible. And yet, I was lost. I still had hold of the images, the shadows that have been my life until then. It wasn't until I let go of what I thought I understood (ie divesting myself of images) that I could allow the new understanding to penetrate my soul and intellect.

Suddenly, the Cave Analogy made perfect sense...I was living it.

I have to confess, now, when I attend Mass at my own parish, I'm dissatisfied. The pro populum altar has driven me crazy for a long time...even more so now. The performers on the stage singing Haugen show tunes seem more than ever to be performing. I feel like I've been freed, but then returned and bound, looking at shadows that are speaking to me...but they aren't.

They're speaking to God. And even the shadows don't seem to know that they are supposed to be doing so.

It's getting more and more difficult to focus at Mass. The gestures of the people around me in the pews toward the priest (who isn't speaking to any of us, but only to God) is distracting. The constant intercom announcements to "join in singing" the latest new/old heretical protestant hymn, which is followed by applause for the performers is forcing me to figure out how to properly find God in all this mess.

I feel like a prisoner in my own parish. And yet, even as I feel bound, I'm grateful, for I know that so many others are still completely lost, staring at shadows they don't know are shadows, reacting to gestures that aren't being made to them, but rather, for them. And if they only KNEW the reality of the mysteries for which we are present....!

It fills me with pity, and even with a certain anger, for I wonder how it has come to this?

And then, this evening, I read this while praying Vespers:

Ant. Son, why have you done this to us? Think what anguish your father and I have endured looking for you. But why did you look for me? Did you not know that I had to be in my Father's house?

Read that dialogue over a few times. Enter into it. Isn't that what so many of us ask every week, maybe every DAY? Don't we experience anguish when we see how the theological symbolism has been so lost to us? Isn't it a terrible hardship to have to try to look for God, when we aren't being directed to Him?

One of the things I've learned in my Master's program has been on the theology of suffering. God does not specifically will suffering, but He allows it, and in that is found His will for us. When we enter into suffering, we ask these questions, and Our Lord awaits them, expecting this faith seeking understanding, no matter where we are in life, whether spiritual or temporal.

And He answers, but we must be willing to listen, no matter what the cacaphony around us, be it bad theologically-incorrect-Vatican-II-noncompliant showtunes or the ignorant applause that follows it. We must return to the horror of the birth of Christ, and the horrors that followed in the slaughter of the Holy Innocents, and we must remember that if that is what He suffered, should we not expect to suffer the same?

We have to remember that God gave His only Son to Mary and Joseph...and they lost Him, and had to look through him in the dusty, dirty, uncivilized roads leading to and through Jerusalem. And where did they find Him?

In the Temple.

The Temple wasn't a perfect place...a few years later, Jesus would form a whip and overturn the tables of the money changers, chastizing them for turning the Lord's house into a place of commerce.

We have to see, then, that no matter how bad things might be, Christ is there. He is speaking, even to those who aren't listening or refuse to listen.

More and more, I'm realizing how drawn I am to either the Latin Novus Ordo (which locally is done ad orientum) or the Extraordinary Form (TLM) Masses, but today's antiphon after the Canticle of Mary has chastized me.

My preferences perhaps don't matter; God is present at my own parish. I don't need to look for Him anywhere else; I just have to see Him where He is, and where He has called me at this moment. The anguish in trying to find him is both real and self-inflicted all at once. What is happening to our Church is within God's will, for He is allowing it, perhaps to make us seek Him in the storm.

We don't grow in holiness through an easy road, but through suffering. We can never find Christ unless we endure the Cross.

The other day I wrote about how our romanticized ideal of the birth of Christ obscures the reality of the Incarnation; perhaps that same understand needs to be applied to the Mass. Maybe we have to learn to find Christ no matter where we are. We don't have to love the music; we have to love Jesus. And if He could endure the abuses at the Temple, then we can endure the same kind of thing for His sake and those of His people, those around us.

Maybe the next time, then, that I enter into the cacaphony of the Mass at my parish, I will remember that I need not seek so hard for Jesus, for He is already there, and the more I give in to resentment, the further back I will be in the crowd. And even if the eyes of the crowd are upon the performers, it is my place to keep my eyes and heart focused on Christ.

And THAT is a path to holiness that has been given to most of us.

Pray. Endure. And remember He is Present. Don't let Him be alone.

Straining at Gnats to Avoid Charity

Let me be very clear; what I'm about to say is going to tick a lot of people off, but so be it. However, I'm going to preface my scathing rant with a little context lest some random person come along and think that it's about them. It's not. I am not writing about a particular person, but rather, a widespread behavior that NEEDS to change. Dear readers...condemn yourself or exempt yourself. Myself...I'm doing both.

A few years ago when I experienced my conversion, I was so thirsty for knowledge that I just devoured what I could. I went to Catholic Answers forums, and many wonderful people there answered many of my questions. It was overall of great benefit to go there, and I often found myself in a forum with regard to liturgy. I am drawn to beauty (through my artistic side, perhaps), and even in my time of dissent and simply being lost, I avoided bad liturgy when I could, which ultimately protected me from becoming involved in parishes that had the worst abuses. (I'll not name any names.)

In any case, once I learned the truth, once I learned objectively what was proper and that my own instincts had been correct, I became quite angry. There I was, a "revert" (for lack of a more precise term), and was angry that for so many years, proper catechesis had been kept from me. In trying to come home, I'd been subjected to horrendous liturgical abuses, and quite likely, invalid communion. (Ironically, on that occasion that was likely a good thing...I was in mortal sin.)

So it was that I went through a very angry stage, being quite resentful at what is wrong in the Church, taking personally different things that should not be occurring in liturgy, in catechesis, etc.

I began this blog when still in that stage, and many of those early posts are still up; I've left them as a testament to my own journey as I've progressed as a Catholic. Those who go back and read what I've left may even think I'm a different author now. And that's as it should be.

Early Conversion

I've observed this same kind of anger in others...both in reverts and converts from other faiths whose eyes have been opened to both the glory of the Church...and the shadows. It seems to be a more or less "normal" stage in conversion, and I have a theory on this.

When someone finally comes to the Fount of Mercy, when they finally recognize Christ for who He is, when they fall in love with Him and His Bride, the Church, well, quite honestly it becomes spiritually, emotionally, and even physically painful to see that beauty diminished by practices that are truly abusive; such as a priest changing the Eucharistic prayers, "dancers" contorting like Herod's daughter, social statistic reports by some GI-Jane-looking DRE in place of a homily about the scriptures, etc. It's terribly painful to recognize that the liturgy, that time of worship owed to GOD has become a celebration of the people, a hoe-down which has as it's theme song "See-how-great-we-art!"

I suggest those people are RIGHT to be angry, and that anger is just, for when something is wrong, often anger inspires the desire to do something to correct the problem.

I went through this stage, and my goodness, I was nasty! At the time, I had not experienced a Latin Mass, either Novus Ordo or in the Extraordinary Form (TLM). And I have to say...I thank GOD for that!

My parish isn't bad. I have my complaints, all of which has to do with the modern architecture of the church (it's ugly and laterally-focused), and the music (McHaugen with a side of Haas, served with the optional Joncas). But our priests are holy, orthodox, and if I were deaf, I would see nothing but God's glory on the altar at Mass.

Now, with that context....

Last night on a blog that has to do with liturgy, I got into a discussion with someone else with regard to a very common abuse...holding hands during the Our Father. And referenced the Orans position as well. NEITHER belong in the Mass; they are innovations that make no theological sense.

My comment with regard to that was that I was forced into that a few years ago. I was visiting a parish for a conference, and was in maybe the 2nd row, so not twenty feet from me was Christ Himself on the altar. The man standing next to me was staring at me intently and expectantly, waiting for my hand. I realized that this was one of THOSE parishes, and had to make a decision. He knew I saw him. Had I just closed my eyes and folded my hands, it would quite literally have been rude.

The man didn't know me; and clearly, he thought this was proper practice. He didn't know any better. Had I done what I preferred, he might have thought it was a rejection of him, who knows? I looked at the altar, and realized that Jesus Himself also waited for my decision; follow the letter of the law, or act in charity and give the soul next to me the benefit of the doubt?

I opted for charity, even as I squirmed.

And I'd do the same thing today, and yes, I'd STILL squirm inwardly.

My friends, let me tell you, when I shared that incident, not only did the other person disagree and insist the ONLY thing to do was to follow the rubrics and not hold hands, but someone else decided to jump all over me and ask if I also support the priest changing the words of the consecration or other Eucharistic prayers.

WHAT!?

And yet, that has often been my experience in issues surroundign liturgy. One cannot have an opinion unless it lines up with the black and the red TO THE VERY LETTER. Never mind that it's a situation in the pew, not on the altar.

Now, before some random person shows up and adds another non sequitor argument, understand this:

I DO NOT SUPPORT LITURGICAL ABUSE EITHER ON THE PART OF THE PRIEST OR THE PART OF THE LAITY!

I DO NOT SUPPORT HAND-HOLDING OR THE ORANS DURING THE OUR FATHER!

Now, FOCUS:

We cannot follow the law unless we also remember the rule of charity; if we forget the latter, we make the former completely without merit.

It's the same thing happening today as in the time of Christ...it's exactly what the Pharisees did.

Oh, yes, I went there.

So often, bloggers, commenters, etc., (I am speaking ONLY of laity here) will speak their opinions on liturgy as though they have the ultimate authority. They are so bound by the exact words and almost seem to have a fear of offending God if they do or say anything that might in the slightest be a departure from the rubrics.

Personally, I'm sick and tired of all that anger and bitterness. It's one of the reasons I will read the blog of the author in question, but haven't commented much, and tend not to read the comments. I can't stand the arrogance.

And one of the reasons I REFUSE to be a Rad-Trad:

Over and over this semester, in class, reading the Saints, they emphasize that love of God necessitates love of neighbor. If we love the law so much that we ignore the needs of our neighbor, then we have also failed to love God. The two cannot be separated!

This is NOT "lateral theology" but scriptural truth!

Yes, we NEED to make sure we follow the rubrics that apply to us as the laity, we NEED to continue to work for proper liturgies and reforms that involve proper adherance to what Vatican II REALLY said (ie Latin, Gregorian Chant, etc.) We NEED to honor Christ in the way He deserves. We NEED to be faithful, to follow the directives given by the Church in her wisdom, and we need to honor God through these means.

But that does NOT give us permission, on a small thing, to sacrifice charity in order to check a box stating that we followed the rubrics and prayed the Our Father properly. THAT IS SPIRITUAL PRIDE! It has NO PLACE at Mass!

Now, my parish doesn't hold hands. Some families maybe do, and the occasional visitor who doesn't know any better. Sometimes we have to meet people where they are at. If a visitor comes to your parish and takes your hand during the Our Father, thinking it's what she is supposed to do, what is better? Pull away with a scowl and fold your hands and close yourself off? Or smile, take her hand, and then afterward, wish her peace? The visitor isn't an idiot...she would recognize during the prayer that this parish doesn't do that, but would be comforted that her gaff was accepted and covered by the stranger next to her. And maybe your charity would open the door to a conversation later if she wanted to ask why your parish DOESN'T hold hands?

You can't have a teachable moment unless you open the door to the possibility.

Spiritual Pride is a real problem for all of us. We ALL fall into it. I do, you do, and we all need to guard against it.

That's why I don't want to be a "rad-trad". It's one of the biggest things that pushes me away from the traditional form of the Mass; in too many of the devotees, I see the Pharisees, not Christ. I see a lot of people jumping on the bandwagon to strain at gnats, but not a lot of people willing to be open to the possibility that there might be a bigger lesson.

Even errors glorify God in ways we can't immediately observe.

Our Church is very divided, my friends. It doesn't have to be. Like it or not, we are the Mystical Body, we do all have a place, there IS a way to remain faithful and loving at the same time, to maintain the integrity while not forgetting the soul of our neighbor.

We have our problems..but do we need to make them worse?

The theological virtue of Charity is foundational to our spirituality; if we're angry and bitter and arrogant and making non-sequitor attacks, we don't have charity. If we're focusing on following each little letter of the rubrics to the detriment of an individual in a specific circumstance, then not only are we obsessive-compulsive, but we're Pharisees.

We cannot advance in holiness if we don't have charity. Yes, sometimes charity means being harsh. But we need to remember that God NEVER reveals sin without revealing His Mercy. If we're going to criticize sin (which we should!), then we need to remember Mercy, and that can only come about if we have charity.

I would be a rad-trad if I could; but with what I see from the liturginazis on that side, I can't associate with them without fearing I'll go back down the angry path where too many of them seem to remain, paralyzed in spiritual obsessive-compulsion.

So for now, I'll stay where I am, continue to work on my own spiritual pride and try to focus on loving my neighbor (where I gravely fail myself).

If you care to begin, here's a match....let the flaming begin.
*

Sanctus Domuinus Deus Sabaoth

This morning I drove through terribly slippery roads, risking my life to get to St. Agnes for the 10:00 am Mass. (Quite literally it was dangerous...I watched a car nearly spin out, and another slid through a stop sign as I approached the intersection. A VERY close call!)

The reason for braving this danger? To attend a first ever Extraordinary Form Mass, the first there in 40 years. They regularly have a Latin Novus Ordo, which I have attended - and love. But I've never been to what is often called a TLM (Traditional Latin Mass), so it was with great joy that I mounted the steps into this beautiful church.

I happen to have a borrowed St. Andrew missal, which was marked for the first Sunday in Advent, but set it aside in favor of the materials provided by St. Agnes, which had the Mass laid out in a booklet and an additional leaflet containing the specific readings for today.

It was a beautiful Mass, although I can't say I had any idea what was going on at any given time. Except here and there...I recognized the Kyrie, a few other things, the consecration was somewhat obvious, etc, although done a little differently, and, of course, in Latin.

There were a few kinks; for example, where the booklet directed us to stand, people sat...some stood, though. And where maybe we were supposed to sit, we were standing. It was VERY confusing. On one occasion, although the book said to stand, the deacon signaled for us to be seated. Of course, I have no idea of there were any mistakes made at the altar...I was a bit too focused on my own incompetence to worry about anyone else's!

And perhaps that's the best lesson to be learned on the First Sunday of Advent.

Because I was so lost, and so without understanding, and yet, still KNOWING that God was present, that it was Christ on that altar...I can't think of a better way to begin this season. The reverence given to Christ during the preparation before Mass began, the incense at different points, and all the activity directed to Our Lord was striking.

I found myself apologizing to Our Lord for my distraction, for not knowing what was going on, realizing my "apologies" were fully unnecessary, so I settled back and surrendered to trying to just be present. For, as long as I was at Mass, I could not be truly lost. It's the closest to Home any of us can get while still walking this earth.

It was perhaps somewhere around that point that I "got it". It's not the first Mass I've attended that was celebrated ad orientum, and I've long said that the worst "reform" that came after Vatican II was turning the altar around. Today, that came home to me even more directly as I witnessed the consecration from a completely different attitude.

It's hard to put into words, maybe impossible.

Mass was humbling today. I felt like a child. I could not "participate" in any real way, not even able to truly enter into any of the prayers. Following the guide, following the actions, recognizing only a few things; it was as though I was an infant. We who have grown up since the 60's have been fed a very improper idea of what the term "participation" means, and even though I am aware of its true meaning, I find that I STILL had to divest myself of my own images in order to surrender to what God wanted me to understand. And that's truly what is beyond words, and what is really so...humbling.

In looking at the Priest on the high altar, knowing that he was offering prayers for us, and, in reading some of those prayers he silently offers, I saw them in a new light. There he was, speaking for us...because we cannot. Praying for us...because we cannot pray for ourselves. Offering the Sacrifice for us, on our behalf, pleading with God...for us.

Knowing that even if I was the only one there, his prayers would be the same, his posture the same, his pleading...the same.

It was fitting that I feel like a child, that I see my insignificance in the presence of the great Majesty of God, and my unworthiness in the face of the Divine Victim offered...for me.

It was fitting to see the Priest praying on my behalf, facing God, facing the same direction as the rest of us; our representative before God. None of us knows how we should pray, or even how to approach God. And although we do all often pray for each other and ourselves, perhaps sometimes we need to learn to stop, rest in silence, and allow thousands of years of wisdom intercede for us, wash over us, and invite us into mysteries we can't fathom without God's grace.

I think my compass has been reset, and so it is with a different attitude that I enter this Advent season. To know I am still a child, I haven't even the abilities to come close to understanding the depths of what's happening at Mass, much less understanding God!

And the only way to approach Our Lord is from a foundation of humility. Knowing what we are not...in the face of Who God Is.

Throughout the next few weeks, I'm going to remember my insignificance in the face of God's Majesty, and my dependence upon Him for all things.

And I hope to remember this lesson forever.
*