It is not I

I recently had a Mass Experience that reinforced my quirky take on What’s Wrong.

Remember this?

It’s not the “reverence” – it’s the ego.

My point there – and here – is that the elevation of the latter comes at the expense of the former. People try to tackle the former by various means, but they can never quite get it, because well, they don’t get it.

That recent experience? Well, it wasn’t in this area, so quit your Googling. It was elsewhere, and it was just vaguely weird and distracting. No, it wasn’t as weird as this was

I once – not too, too long ago, and not in this area – had a liturgical experience. The celebrant seemed well-meaning, and he also clearly felt Spirit-led. Note – he didn’t deviate from the liturgical words and texts. We had that going for us at least. But in this small congregation which was mostly composed of non-parishioners and visitors, his personality absolutely dominated the hour. I think he thought he was serving and bringing out some deeper meaning through his actions, but all that ended up happening was an awkward but unrelenting spotlight on him for a solid hour – his demeanor, his singing, his tremendously odd, dramatic, emotional pronunciation of the words of consecration. I’m sure he thought he was doing a helpful thing, enriching the mere words and gestures of the liturgy with the intensity of his own demeanor, perhaps even moved by the Spirit to do so, but he ended up placing himself in the center and being a distraction and an obstacle.

And all we wanted to do was go to Mass.

– and not as weird and stupid as wielding a guitar to bless the congregation, for sure. Or hauling defenseless teenagers in front of a congregation to sing a Confirmation Banana Song that would makes VeggieTales sound like Schubert.

But still well in the category of I think you are trying to make this meaningful but you are really just distracting me, dude. Please stop.

This was not a case of deviating from the liturgy – the black was said and the red was done as far as I could tell. But then I was sitting in the back as I usually am these days, so who knows.

No, it was something else: dramatic and emphatic flourishes and gestures to emphasize: I’m praying and this is super spiritual, guys.

This priest was very engaged, stylistically a good homilist, and avuncular but not quite to the point of obnoxiousness.

Nevertheless, his actions were distracting, to me a newcomer, but perhaps not at all to the congregation. First, during the presider’s prayers, he bowed, very deeply and addressed the floor.  I get it. He was establishing a distinction between the moments he was addressing the congregation and when he was addressing God. It was similar to the times I’ve seen a presider do ad orientem at an Ordinary Form Mass: turn, just slightly toward the crucifix when addressing God. Same idea. And a good one, in theory. But kind of weird to see. I wish he’d have just turned towards the crucifix on the wall, not the floor. It would have made more sense.

The consecration was also pretty dramatically voiced – nothing like this– I don’t think anything will ever match – I pray not anyway – but still, yes, dramatic.

Better than perfunctory, I suppose.

But paradoxically, in its dramatic nature, clearly offered to evoke the meaning of the event, risking drawing more attention to the speaker.

Do you want an exaggerated version of this moment and all the other similar Liturgical Stylings that we all have experienced?

Sort of like this.

It occurred to me that these personal flourishes – whether they seem to be serving the cause of deeper piety as traditionally defined, or to render the liturgy “relevant” or “meaningful” to the congregation, whether that be a presider’s meaningful gaze, his tone, his jokes, as well as a particular parish’s efforts along that same vein, are worth contemplating as signs, yes, of What’s Wrong.

I could say, “wrong with the Novus Ordo,” but that would be too easy and predictable. Because it’s really more than that. It’s the zeitgeist that liturgical reform (and Church reform in general) bought into and that we’re now paying for with priests doing weird things at the altar and lay ministers earnestly and dramatically entreating us from the ambo or the loft or from the side aisles, whatever. Or even Inspiration Personalities whose evangelism schtick is rooted in “I’m cool, I like Jesus, so of course Jesus is real. And check out my Patreon.”

Old way:

Objective Transcendent Reality communicated to us through liturgy. Liturgy should reflect that transcendent reality as much as circumstances allow. At the very least, it reflects the unchangingness of God and the sacrifice offered by being unchangeable. A bare bones liturgy on the battlefield, a High Mass in the Cathedral – the core, as I said, is the same, and is not to be messed with.

(Yes, I know. I’m a student of history. But what I’m talking about is the lived experience of an individual during her lifetime as a Catholic. From parish to parish, around the globe, the core was the same, the words were the same and were not to be messed with.)

And you there? In the congregation? Come, be present, and take it or leave it. It will be here and be happening no matter how smoothly it’s performed, no matter what you feel, no matter how much you engage, no matter what role you play, no matter your opinion on the whole affair.

This thing is happening, and whether you understand or care about it. There’s a global and transcendent spiritual community involved in this act, and guess what, you are a part of it. The sacrifice.

It’s your responsibility to figure that out and join in in a meaningful way that will bear fruit for you and for others as you cooperate with the grace you’re offered and bring the light of Christ into the world.

Now, new way:

There is an objective core to the Mass, of course, and the structure is not to change, and on paper, the words are generally not to be changed…except for in these or other words…

But. In the stated liturgical reform and more importantly as it has been disseminated over the decades and lived out, the expectation of the Mass experience has, indeed shifted. Its meaning might be objective on paper, but in terms of lived experience, it’s not anymore. The experience of liturgy, like everything else in contemporary religion, has become subjective and judged according to its experiential value in that moment.

This is old news. So let’s apply it to my original story up there.

What I come to see more and more is that because of the shape of the post-Conciliar liturgy  presiders and other liturgical ministers bear the burden of communicating holiness and spiritual meaning in their demeanor and affect that was previously borne by the ritual, simply because of its generally accepted objective meaning. That objective meaning was then enhanced by art, architecture, music and expanded ritual action. 

But in the post-Conciliar world, those elements were not only diminished and discouraged but often demeaned as detrimental to mature spirituality and then eliminated.

People often ask, confused, why would you strip a church of statues and ornamentation? Why would you paint all of it over and toss what you could in the dumpster out back?

Because, quite simply, all of that was analyzed as obstacles to authentic, mature faith. They let the congregation outsource their spirituality – I can be in this space, surrounded by statues and stained glass, let others sing beautiful music and watch the priest go through his elaborate motions and I can feel a sense of “reverence” without having to personally engage and participate.

You can argue with that, but I’m telling you, that was the prevailing sentiment. You shouldn’t need all of that to be close to the Lord.

One of the reasons I study history is that I am endlessly interested in the ways that people are different, but more importantly, in the ways they are the same. In the ways that human needs and behaviors just keep repeating themselves. In the ways, especially, that when deep, organic human needs and yearnings are suppressed – they pop right up again in some form or another. Even destructive ways, if we’re not careful.

So, the externals of a certain level of careful, detailed and intentional art, architecture, music and ritual are deemed to be inauthentic expressions for the modern human person. External “reverence” is performative and does not contribute to authentic spirituality and spiritual community.

Strip it down. Keep it simple – like the early Christians! – so we can focus on the presence of the Lord in our own hearts and in each other. Fully participating, of course.

But then what happens? Sometimes wonderful things in the simplicity.

But sometimes not.

And after hundreds of Masses facing indifferent congregations, the sense develops that…we need to do something.

There needs to be more…of something. More energy. More meaning. More visible and audible evidence that this is the peak spiritual experience we say it is – it’s the Mass! The source and summit!

So why are you guys mumbling and looking at your watches?

We need to help you see that this is special! That this is worship! That this is The Source and Summit ™.

Well, I guess we’ll just emote more, then. We’ll connect with you personally. We’ll try to make you feel like you belong.

Because that’s the other aspect of this: as I’ve pointed out again and again, the modern criterion for authenticity and truth is not anything objective, but the experience of the experience.

I didn’t get anything out of Mass. That priest isn’t very friendly. He doesn’t make eye contact. The music is boring. I didn’t feel welcome.

It’s fascinating, really. Just think about it.

The goal is the same: to communicate the very real presence of God in our midst.

But the objective transcendent is gone – or at least devalued.

What we are left with is ourselves. The ideal was that a loosening of formality and rubric would lead to us experiencing the vibrancy of that presence among us, as we are. But what it has done is put the burden of communicating the reality of that Presence on our shoulders: on our facial expressions, our intonation, our gestures.

That, my friends, is a terrible burden.

It’s odd, though. Indeed, we have a responsibility to be Christ to each other. Our varied roles in everyday life and in liturgical life call us to let Christ speak, listen and love through us. On the other hand, it is not right for me to look at you – just a fellow lay person, liturgical minister, priest – and expect your personal manners and affectations to be the criterion by which I judge the authenticity of a spiritual moment.

I was once at a Mass celebrated by a bishop, who was very happy at the end of Mass. He crowed, “We were really Church tonight!” I got it. I understood. On an emotional level, it was not an unreasonable reaction. But the point is: no matter how freaking boring it may seem to you– it’s still Church.

So there’s where ritual comes in.

Blessed, objective, boring old ritual. You, a person, are leading these actions and speaking these words, and I’m grateful, but I also know that God’s presence is not dependent on your manner or personal affect.

In fact, it’s all divinely ironic isn’t it: The ritual can’t happen without you, but the less of you there is – the more powerful it is.

It’s almost as if Paul knew what he was talking about:

I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.

It’s almost as if there’s an analogy to everyday spiritual life here: the Lord is present to you no matter if you are excited, happy, joyous, depressed, despondent or bored. He works through you but is not dependent on you.

Melanie Bettinelli, in the comments, reminds me of this wonderful passage from Kathleen Norris’ Cloister Walk:

“Being a lector is a unique experience; it feels nothing like reading poems, my own or anyone else’s, to an audience. And it’s certainly not a performance; no emoting, or the monks would have my hide. The Liturgy of the Word is prayer. You pray the scriptures with, and for, the people assembled, and the words go out to them in ways only God can imagine. The words are all that matter, and you send them out as prayer, hoping to become invisible behind them.”

The trouble of course, is that we modern people don’t live like this. We want to be entertained and “inspired” by emotion and attractive actions and we will let you know if you bore us and don’t make us feel something. And we will make your – if you are a priest or some other liturgical minister – life hell if you don’t, in your affect, meet our stupid, infantile needs.

And there’s your problem. There’s your misstep.

I am not sure how the correction can happen, because it’s not just about liturgy, of course.

Much of these thoughts were pulled together – to the extent that they are at all – by reading this essay on a book by a Japanese-German scholar on ritual. You can read the whole thing, but here’s the money quote, for my purposes at least:

Han is saying that in a ritual society it does not make sense to contrast the internal and the external in the way Romanticism encourages us to do. It does not make sense to ask, when an individual expresses welcome, friendship, or gratitude, through the appropriate ritual gestures, “Is this genuine? Does it come from the heart, from inside?” These questions do not make sense because there is no inside to be at odds with the outside. The individual is completely identified with the meaning of the ritual.

Han writes of the Japanese tea ceremony:

The proper movements of the hands and body have a graphic clarity, and there is no uncertainty about them deriving from the influence of the mind or soul. The actors immerse themselves in ritual gestures, and these gestures create an absence, a forgetfulness of self.

This.

This.

This.