State of the Liturgy

The Sacred Liturgy in the Twenty-first Century
By Father Augustine H. Serafini
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      “The State of the Liturgy” was the subject of the essay published in Newsletter 53: Spring 1997. Many readers found it helpful toward an understanding of the significance of the rituals and traditions that encompass what is the nucleus of Catholic Christian worship. How did the Mass become what it is today and how can we see its correlation with the Eucharist instituted by Jesus Christ, and handed down by the Apostles? Then, at nearly the end of the twentieth century, we had to deal with the spiritual tension striking the heart of the Catholic West on account of the decades-long interruption of the eternal rhythm of our sacred Liturgy, our ligament with the celestial liturgy of the Blessed.
      The turn of the century saw the election of Pope Benedict XVI who, with a keen understanding of subjects liturgical unparalleled since the days of Pope Pius XII, author of the Encyclical on the Liturgy: Mediator Dei in 1947, set about guiding the Church toward a more solid admiration for the Eucharistic Mystery, the essential, efficacious, and living bond with the Word made flesh, and with God’s primordial revelation to man. The Passover sacrifice of the Old Covenant had prepared for the unprecedented, mystical immolation of the Lamb in the New Covenant. Far from a retreat to confining and, at times, obsolete traditions, Benedict XVI advanced forward, to focus squarely upon the significance of the sacred rites, taking his cue from St. Benedict of Monte Cassino:
“Let us join in the psalmody in such a way that our mind be in harmony with our voice”—Rule for Monasteries (Chapter 19) and, “Let nothing be preferred to the Work of God” (Chapter 43).
      In the days of Moses, the Hebrews received the teaching concerning the Sabbath—to create islands of sacred time every seventh day—till the end of time. It is the day to celebrate God’s magnificent and saving deeds, to thank and bless Him: “Barak ata Adonai Elohainu—Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine…Blessed are You, Who brings froth bread from the earth” (weekly Sabbath blessing of wine and bread).
      “Blessing” in Latin is Benedictio—in Greek, Eulogia. “Thanksgiving” in Greek is Eucharistia. This fusion of Blessing and Thanksgiving with the Offering of the Lamb, describes the Last Supper, the first Holy Eucharist (I Corinthians 10:16). The term “Mass” derives from the “Dismissal” after a final blessing at the conclusion of most liturgical rites.
      The first Christians in Jerusalem combined Jewish liturgical, i.e., official and public worship, with the weekly celebration of the Eucharist whereby they relived and shared in Jesus’ Passion, Death and Resurrection “until He comes again.” Before the writing of the Gospels, a liturgical tradition had already been established by the Apostles. Persecutions contributed to the dispersion of the Christian community from the Holy Land and the Temple was destroyed.  Thus the Gospel and the offering of the Eucharist was spread throughout the Middle East. For the Eucharistic liturgy “the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the Temple thereof” (Revelation 21:22).
      Peter had first presided in the Church in Antioch in Syria where the term “Christian” was first applied. Paul was the first to enter Greece. By A.D. 62, Peter and Paul brought the celebration of the Lord’s Supper to Rome where a considerable number of Jews had settled long before. Today’s Italian Jewish community is among the most ancient and continuous in the world.
      Our New Testament books with the Apostles’ letters, the Acts and Revelation, refer to a variety of liturgical actions: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Ordination, and Anointing of the Sick. They contain prayers, doxologies acclamations, blessings, and directions for formal actions such as readings, profession of faith, and the Osculum pacis—Kiss of peace—which in the solemn high Mass was still exchanged by the clergy, as it is the Eastern Churches.
      Familiar formulae are already mentioned in the New Testament: “forever and ever,” “through our Lord Jesus Christ,” and the untranslatable Hebrew “Amen.” The all-embracing “Amen” is our solemn affirmation of the mystery being presented to us, as if to exclaim: Truly! It is so! I believe and affirm! It passed into Greek from worship in the synagogue and then to every language, and is the last word in the Bible, in Revelation 22:21. There is no substitute for Amen.
      “Do this in memory of Me.” The Church’s authoritative worship of the Father by means of the mystical sacrifice of Jesus Christ, in which our gifts of bread and wine are consecrated and transformed by the Holy Spirit through the instrumentality of the ordained priesthood, is the solemn summit of its perennial adoration. The Apostles tenderly carried this all-encompassing act of worship as a precious vine to the Jewish Diaspora and all the Nations.    
      The Eucharistic Prayer or Offering—Anaphora in Greek—(Canon Missae, Canon of the Mass), is the essential core of the Great Thanksgiving—Eucharist. The celebrating priest begins by calling upon the assembly to: “Lift up your hearts,” and to thank God: Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro. Then, the bread and wine are blessed as Jesus had done, rendering thanks to the Father: Tibi gratias agens (and giving You thanks He broke the bread). In the Mass today, we give thanks for the saving Sacrifice of Calvary, the Resurrection, and the formation of the Church by the Holy Spirit. This is the “Oblation” or “bring back” for our salvation, the totality of Christ’s life from the instant of the Incarnation until today and enkindling the hope of tomorrow when He shall reappear in our midst: Parousia. For, in Eucharistic Time—past, present, and future meld into one.
      The Mass and sacramental rites did not develop haphazardly, only to be codified centuries later. Liturgical worship evolved early, albeit in strenuous and uneasy times for the infant Church. Details are necessarily sketchy. However, the first non-biblical bits of information are in the first-century Didache—Teaching of the Twelve Apostles wherein we find the very first transcription of the Our Father to which is added: “For Thine is the power and glory forever. Amen.” Eastern liturgies include “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” in this doxology. The Didache in chapter 14 has the earliest mention of the Lord’s Day except for the Book of Revelation 1:10, including the confession of sins. The Acts of the Apostles 20:7 tells how St. Paul and the Christian community met for the breaking of the bread on the first day of the week. Despite real threat to life, the early Christians never failed to gather for the weekly Eucharist.
      St. Justin Martyr, in the mid-second century, left us the most ancient description of Sunday Mass. He gave details for the two-part arrangement of the order of the service:

I. The Synaxis (Foregathering):            II. The Eucharist:
      1. Celebrant’s Greeting                             1. Kiss of Peace
      2. Scripture Readings and Psalms               2. Offertory
      3. Gospel Reading                                   3. Eucharistic Prayer
      4. Sermon(s) – Bishop’s summation           4. Fraction of the Host
      5. Dismissal of Catechumens                     5. Holy Communion
      6. Intercessory Prayers                              6. Ablutions – Dismissal

The Eucharistic Prayer (Anaphora) beginning, with “Lift up your hearts,” was the prerogative of the bishop praying extempore according to orthodox tradition. By the fourth century, the times of fluidity had come to a close. The earliest written formula for the Canon of the Mass is from the Apostolic Tradition of St. Hippolytus (170-235), and served as the basis for the Second Eucharistic Prayer in the Roman Sacramentary published by the authority of Pope Paul VI.
      The Peace of the Church: Constantine the Great’s Edict of Toleration in 311 allowed for the dawn of new liturgical development. Churches could be built, public liturgies celebrated, and Sunday became the weekly holiday. Pope Sylvester I now had a cathedral—the Archbasilica of the Holy Savior (also named St. John Lateran). He introduced the free-standing, stone altar at which celebrants faced the East whence Christ shall come. It is said that St. Peter always had a wooden altar made without nails, a tradition usually followed in Byzantine usage.
      Rites and Language: All Christian rites can be traced to four basic types: Syrian, emanating from Jerusalem and Antioch; Alexandrian (Coptic Egypt); Roman; Gallican (Milan, Lyon, Toledo). The lingua franca of the Roman Empire was Greek. It was also the language of the New Testament. Rites of the East and of Rome retained the Kyrie eleison, and Hebrew: Amen, Alleluia, Hosanna, and Maranatha (O Lord, come!). The change from Greek to Latin came through Roman Africa to Italy. The Roman liturgy in Old Slavonic began in Dalmatia.
      Spontaneity: The constant repetition of prayers of praise, thanksgiving, and remembrance (Anamnesis in Greek), led to set patterns. The style of influential patriarchs and bishops was imitated, and the rapid growth of the Church required reliable and orthodox formularies. Though political peace prevailed, there was less theological peace—Arianism and a host of heterodox aberrations were genuine threats to correct worship (Lex orandi, lex credendi).
      Unity in Diversity:  The generally unified liturgy of the first three centuries celebrated in pre-modern Greek from the Black Sea to the Pillars of Hercules, began to form separate rites which crystallized around urban centers as Mother Churches with their Daughter Churches. With some borrowing from each other, the chants, vesture, architecture, liturgical languages, calendars, and customs evolved into the various rites of the major Patriarchates. Nevertheless, the same skeletal structure was solidly preserved, shaped by the word and will of Christ and the traditions of the Apostles, whatever the language.
      From East to West: The Mass is called the Offering or Qurban in Semitic languages and the Liturgy of St. James is still offered in the Syriac-Aramaic language in Lebanon and isolated villages in Syria. The Apostles and their disciples ventured in all directions so that the Church extended south to Africa and India and through Iran toward western China. Not only the Eucharist, but also chant, monasticism, rosaries, and solemn feasts have their origins in the East. The spread of Islam (7th century) erased many traces of early apostolic missions.
      Rome: In the mysterious plan of God, both St. Peter and St. Paul were martyred in Rome, and St. Peter, as leader of the apostles, presided over the church in Rome as Bishop and Father, i.e., Papa. Thus those who would succeed him have the distinction of being pope and chief shepherd of the Church. While some apostolic churches do not acknowledge the authority of the pope, they still grant that he holds the primacy of honor among all bishops.
      When the Cross was planted in Italy, it took root among Romans, Jews, and Greek colonists in the South (Magna Grecia), and Latin Africa. By the second century, this church became more and more Latinized, both in language and customs. The ancient Romans by nature were conservative, dedicated to law, nation, family, and religion. They eschewed the more delicate Grecian manners.
      Gravitas romanaRoman seriousness profoundly affected the development of Roman liturgy. In contrast to the East, Latin prayers and liturgy tended toward succinctness and sobriety.  Abridgements of the rituals progressed until the 6th century culminating in the prototype established by Pope Gregory the Great.       The Gallican liturgies of the Franks, Iberians, and Celts with their more florid to many people that the New Order of Mass (Novus Ordo) authorized by Pope Paul VI in 1969, is more Roman than it had been for four centuries using the Mass St. Pius V. The official approval of female acolytes for the Latin Rite in 1994 under Pope John Paul II was unprecedented in either East or West.
      Roman cuisine: La cucina romana can serve as an example of simplicity. It differs sharply from that of other regions of Italy with its knack for drawing savor from basic staples—absent are the heavy sauces and piquant seasoning. Perhaps the taste for a “richer” liturgical seasoning was left unsatisfied by the overdose of gravitas romana. Cistercian liturgy is deliberately stark compared to the Benedictine. In America, liturgy was less “liturgical” as a result of the oppression of penal times on Irish Catholics, whose influence was broadly felt on this continent. After Vatican II, novelties came into the Mass with odd and bourgeois and theology, and many Americans fell prey on account of liturgical unawareness.
      Popes have always had the right to modify the Roman liturgy, to correct and restore things when necessary. And they exercised it. Pius XII dramatically reformatted the Holy Week liturgy in 1955 to harmonize with Patristic traditions. John XXIII added St. Joseph to the ancient Canon and made minor adjustments to the rubrics. It is inconceivable that St. Pius V could handcuff all future Chief Bishops of the Roman Rite to prevent them from making changes that do not impinge on the essence of the Mass. As the Latin epigram goes: “Summa sedes non capit duos”—the supreme seat has no room for two.
      In recent years, Pope Benedict XVI wisely permitted general usage of older liturgical rites without demanding that they be updated. There would be resistance, perchance, by those who cannot accept that the Tridentine badly needs to incorporate lost elements from more ancient tradition such as: reading the Gospel facing the congregation, not the wall; the whole congregation reciting the Pater Noster; concelebration; permitting verbal participation by the congregation rather than leaving the faithful to private devotions; limiting reduplication. These are points that affect the fundamental rationale of a harmonious, communal rite.  By the end of 2009, a much needed revision of the English translation of the Roman Missal was nearly accomplished, so that it be more faithful to the Latin original.
      In the 1980s, a number of Anglican clergy and faithful had entered into full communion with Rome. In October of 2009, Pope Benedict XVI facilitated the process for requests for full communion, and reaffirmed Rome’s openness to the Anglican Catholic manner of celebrating the sacred rites with a Mass that resembles the Latin Tridentine Mass with the modifications suggested above. In my opinion, it would have been more prudent to begin in 1963 with adaptations similar to those now practiced by Catholic Anglicans. Though the intended effect of the liturgical renewal was well-meaning, liturgical ignorance abounded and the upshot was the loss of a sense of sacred times, places, gestures, music, objects, and Catholics experienced aggravating, irreverent abuses of liturgy.
      A vast spiritual heritage was the fertile soil for the flourishing of the Roman liturgy, which has immense devotional, pedagogical, and sanctifying potential. It was this heritage that the Liturgical Movement, starting in the 19th century, sought to take advantage of. Pope St. Pius X (d. 1914) took some steps in this direction by encouraging use of missals, first Holy Communion for much younger children, and restoring Gregorian chant and polyphony in the manner of Palestrina to preeminence over the more theatrical Baroque repertoire. Vernacular translations of the Mass for laity were not permitted before Pope Leo XIII (d.1905).
      Sacred Music: Music was a key ingredient in Hebrew Temple worship, and in the Christian liturgy that flowed from it. Psalms were sung at the Passover meal, and at that Last Paschal Supper in the Upper Room. It is the only recorded instance of Jesus singing. Music is supportive to devotion and spiritual fulfillment in our communal worship; it is not a mere decorative adjunct. From the beginning, the bishop or priest celebrant chanted his prayers in a kind of rhythmic recitation (recitative). This is still heard in Eastern Christian Churches. The unchanging parts of the Mass should have been on everyone’s lips, for the very nature of the Liturgy cries out for responsive participation in body, mind, and spirit.
      As the Roman Church embraced the vernacular, new English hymns were composed to accommodate a taste for a more nonchalant and spontaneous style of celebrating Mass. At times, the Liturgy seemed as incomprehensible as were the hymns unsingable. It was believed that the cultural level had to be let down, and baser tastes be pandered to. The so-called “polka mass” is one example. After all, polka is made for lively dancing and the Mass is something quite other! While not all popular hymns were of good quality, there was no dearth of great English hymnody. Charles Wesley alone, from the Methodist tradition, had composed myriad examples.
      In northern and central Europe, there had been a long tradition of hymn singing in the vernacular during the Latin Tridentine Mass. This was not the experience in Ireland and southern Europe. From Poland, Germany, Slovakia, Austria and other countries, immigrants brought their hymns to America. During the 1950s, Cardinal Stritch, the archbishop of Chicago, tried in vain to suppress vernacular renditions of the Gloria, Sanctus and other chants in Polish parishes.
      The Anglicans, centuries ago, had arranged the Latin Gregorian chants of the Ordinary and Proper parts of the Mass to be sung in English. Unfortunately, we did not utilize this body of English Gregorian. The Yorkshire musician and theologian, John Merbecke, created an alternate harmonic chant in the 16th century, which became a standard setting for worship in the Church of England.
      The Protestant Reformation had a deadening effect upon Catholic liturgy.  While Protestant denominations embraced the vernacular with participatory worship, expansive Scripture readings, and re-established the importance of preaching, the Church reacted defensively by countering steps in those directions; things congealed in the model of the 1500s. Catholics had to prevent further loss, preserve unity, and combat heresy. The Council of Trent instituted numerous reforms and corrected abuses, but the ancient liturgical diversity in unity was no longer. Another casualty was healthy, orthodox development of doctrine as well as liturgy, and ecumenical approaches could not go ahead. Yet, even beneficial alterations became suspect and are still considered so by some traditionalists.
      The perception was that the Tridentine reforms, the missal of St. Pius V, St. Pius X’s measures against Modernism, and Curial vigilance had formed an airtight bell of invulnerability over Catholicism. However, wars, social upheaval, and theological ferment began to pierce barriers. When the Roman Church finally made needed changes in those liturgical matters decreed by the Second Vatican Council, orderly, organic evolution gave way to unbridled experimentation in liturgy, religious life, and theology. Living through this epoch reminded one of the most evocative of Michelangelo’s panels on the Sistine ceiling—The Flood—the profound terror of anguished human figures in a cataclysmic biblical event.
      The era of the Tridentine liturgy should not be idealized, even as the pope has opened the way to reconciliation in the interest of Catholic unity. Outside cathedrals, abbeys, and seminaries, the ancient liturgy was not always celebrated with the best of care. Those committed to the Liturgical Movement (sometimes put down as “Movers”) long before Vatican II, desired to encourage bishops, clergy and laity toward an appreciation of the splendid fruits of the Liturgy itself, and the dignified celebration thereof. They were not aficionados of mere change.
      The Canons Regular of St. John Cantius, founded in Chicago by Father C. Frank Philips, C.R. in 1998, has become one of the most inspired interpreters of what I believe was the ideal of liturgical renewal envisioned by Popes Pius X, Pius XII, John XXIII, Paul VI, and now Benedict XVI. At St. John Cantius, the center of attention is on the sublimity and diversity of all sacred liturgy as it is to be appreciated, celebrated, and elucidated. The Church needs to have serenity on the present liturgical battleground between the sacred and secular. The Mass is given us by Christ to create sacred time and space for the transfiguration of the human spirit. Though some might undervalue this notion, all prayer is meant to usher us into God’s presence and element while not removing us from the world’s daily toil. We attend Mass to worship the Father—Our Father in heaven, hallowed be they name—through Christ in the Holy Spirit, and to be nourished by word and sacrament, not to be drowned in a sea of worldly cares and amusements.
      The City of God come down from heaven—that is the authentic import of the sacred liturgy. God’s city, while not visible to the eye, must not be obfuscated by either by amateurism or rigid perfectionism. We must not fail to notice the Angels “ascending and descending” between our altars on earth and the august altar of the eternal Trinity.
“The crisis in the liturgy (and hence in the Church)…has very little to do with the change from the old to the new liturgical books. More and more clearly we can see that, behind all the conflicting views, there is a profound disagreement about the very nature of the liturgical celebration, its antecedents, its proper form, and those who are responsible for it.”
 On the Structure of the Liturgical Celebration, Das Fest des Glaubens, The Feast of Faith, Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Johannes Verlag, Einsiedeln, Switzerland 1981. Ignatius Press, San Francisco 1986.