Catholic Sensibility

These sections give guidance on the water used for baptism. The image I’m using for this category, RCIA, is from my own parish, an adult baptism from a few years ago. The Church doesn’t say a whole lot about the water used for baptism, but what it does say is important:

18. The water used in baptism should be true water and, both for the sake of authentic sacramental symbolism and for hygienic reasons, should be pure and clean.

19. The baptismal font, or the vessel in which on occasion the water is prepared for celebration of the sacrament in the sanctuary, should be spotlessly clean and of pleasing design.

The movement toward immersion fonts is pretty strong in the Western Church. Alternate vessels, presumably for blessing water, may be in the sanctuary, as it says. The implication is that this is not a usual practice. Our parish’s font, at right, is octagonal and the pool within is cross-shaped.

20. If the climate requires, provision should be made for the water to be heated beforehand.

In a conversation with an Orthodox priest, he explained once when he forgot to turn on his church’s font. He said that unheated water relaxed the muscles of the baby’s lower torso so effectively they had a “double elimination.”

21. Except in case of necessity, a priest or deacon is to use only water that has been blessed for the rite. The water blessed at the Easter Vigil should, if possible, be kept and used throughout the Easter season to signify more clearly the relationship between the sacrament of baptism and the paschal mystery. Outside the Easter season it is desirable that the water be blessed for each occasion, in order that the words of blessing may explicitly express the mystery of salvation that the Church remembers and proclaims. If the baptistery is supplied with running water, the blessing is given as the water flows.

I had not been aware of these preferences. In my last parish, a temporary font was used for adult baptisms, but the custodial staff usually disposed of it all a few days after Easter. Fifty days of standing water can be a problem, and it w0uld seem the considerations of GICI 18 trump the “if possible” clause in GICI 21.

Not many comments on this topic so far: anything on these four sections?

I know that other Holy Thursday issues get all the attention in the blogosphere among the hyperscrupulous, but have a look over the rubrics new and old for the day. What are your parish traditions regarding the period of adoration following the Holy Thursday Mass? Is anybody out there still travelling form church to church on Thursday night? How long does your parish keep its doors open? Do you do anything during or at the end of the adoration period?

Sit in the purple chair, then, and tell us how you would conduct Holy Thursday evening after the liturgy. Remember it’s only forty days away.

Catholic and other news outlets report on the SSPX bishop, Richard Williamson, apologizing after his expulsion from Argentina. It’s hard to consider the likely sincerity with the sound bytes given in the media. The full text is here.

The man has one good line:

To all souls that took honest scandal from what I said before God I apologise.

Given the limp apologies we see by public figures, this is a step beyond most athletes, celebrities, and such. However, many commentators are unsure. Rome didn’t seem too impressed. I did detect regret, but not for the actual statements offered, but the resulting furor:

Observing these consequences I can truthfully say that I regret having made such remarks, and that if I had known beforehand the full harm and hurt to which they would give rise, especially to the Church, but also to survivors and relatives of victims of injustice under the Third Reich, I would not have made them.

A thief may also regret stealing after being caught in the crime, wishing she or he had not planned a particular heist.

I find it curious the bishop did not address Jewish people at all, directly or even by a mention of them. While Stalin and Mao may have killed more human beings, Hitler’s attempt was to wipe out an entire gens. Mass murder plus genocide. The former were vainly attempting to silence and murder dissenters.

You have to wonder how the pope feels about this whole affair. Any regret, do you think, on his part, for jumping in with lifting excommunications? If one small step (something we’ve shared with the Orthodox for over forty years) causes such a firestorm, why wouldn’t he turn his efforts to ecumenism that will actually build unity?

These three sections outline the lay ministries of baptism. GICI is pragmatic in suggesting that clergy alone can’t handle large numbers of baptisms. I suppose that covers two possible contingencies: large numbers of baptisms at once (such as at the Easter Vigil) or a faith community with large numbers of infants.

15. The celebrant of baptism may be assisted by other priests and deacons and also by laypersons in those parts that pertain to them, especially if there are a large number to be baptized. Provision for this is made in various parts of the rituals for adults and for children.

We’ve touched on the situation of baptism in case of emergency, a person near death. GICI mentions this, too:

16. In imminent danger of death and especially at the moment of death, when no priest or deacon is available, any member of the faithful, indeed anyone with the right intention, may and sometimes must administer baptism. In a case of simply of danger of death the sacrament should be administered, if possible, by a member of the faithful according to one of the shorter rites provided for this situation. (RCIA 375-399, Rite of Baptism for Children 157-164) Even in this case a small community should be formed to assist at the rite or, if possible, at least one or two witnesses should be present.

Note the importance of the community presence, even during an emergency situation.

17. Since they belong to the priestly people, all laypersons, especially parents and, by reason of their work, catechists, midwives, family or social workers or nurses of the sick, as well as physicians and surgeons, should be thoroughly aware, according to their capacities, of the proper method of baptizing in case of emergency. They should be taught by parish priests (pastors), deacons, and catechists. Bishops should provide appropriate means within their diocese for such instruction.

Quick poll: How many readers know of such a catechetical effort in their parishes or dioceses? How many pastors have taught lay people how to baptize?

I noticed Archbishop Chaput concerned about people finding a messiah in an American president. Interesting that young Catholics thought they had found a “messiah” of sorts here:

Not too much concern from the American bishops over the past thirty years with a superstar globe-trotting pope. Or a vigorous (un)reformer like Benedict.

I wonder if I detect a bit of envy in these prelates. Does Archbishop Chaput seem a little tense that bishops are somehow fallen from pedestals and lurk somewhere near lawyers, bankers, and vice-presidents in terms of disapproval ratings?

It is undoubtedly true that no president has seen this level of fervor since JFK. It took a decade of assassinations, uprisings, and a handful of illegal wars to diminish the US presidency. Only Ronald Reagan came close to a restoration, one which his flunkies almost demolished.

Now we have a citizenry largely happy about their president. What do the bishops have to say? Lent began two years ago, one says for Los Angelenos. Well, sorry, archbishop, but Lent is a liturgical season that points to baptism and penance. I don’t see the American upper crust in SoCal enduring 600 days of Lent.

Older Americans are surely not pinning all messianic hopes on one politician. And younger ones? Well, if Archbishop Chaput wants to stop seminarians from hopping all over the place in their cassocks, that’s his affair. My suggestion would be to encourage people to invest sweat equity in charitable acts for pregnant women and their kids. Time will take care of heroes soon enough, without embittered detractors messing up another real Lent for the rest of us.

Even if you don’t have a telescope or binoculars, or even a dark rural sky, take advantage of the monthly line-of-sight encounters between the Earth’s moon and the sun’s planets. If you’re not getting slammed by snow this weekend, Venus and the moon will appear very close in the evening sky after sunset. (By the way, make Tammy Plotner’s weekly SkyWatcher’s Forecast a regular Friday read if you’re at all interested in observational astronomy. Today’s is great.)

The Astronomy Picture of the Day site has a spectacular image of the moon with three planets in the early dawn sky over the Central Coast of New South Wales.

As the moon orbits the Earth, it laps all the planets, seen and unseen, in the sky. The arrangements as seen from the surface of our planet can be impressive. Add a framing (but just a framing) of colored clouds and you’ll stop traffic.

Sometimes the moon will occult a planet. Watching the moon occult Saturn through a telescope can be cool. It’s like watching a huge saucer “land” on the rim moon, then sink into the mountains.

Speaking of Saturn, I liked this image of a twisted F ring, distorted by repeated interactions with the moons Prometheus and Pandora.

It’s a principle of good writing: show the readers what is going on. Don’t tell them.

Overheard in church the other day: “Please stand.”

Very often, the same principle can be applied to good liturgy. Show people what to do; don’t tell them. I’ve never been a big fan of too much chatter in the liturgy. It’s the way I was formed as a liturgist. It’s that Franciscan principle, perhaps: Preach the Gospel; use words when necessary.

In our parish this Lent, we’ll use “Parce Domine” for entrance music with three verses adapted from the entrance antiphon text of the day. My suggestion to music group leaders is to announce the hymnal number twice (for the first two or three weeks) then simply gesture the people to stand. The liturgy requires nothing more, and the lack of a wordy announcement contributes the the ideal atmosphere we want to reinforce.

You may wonder how that turns out in our parish. We’re awash in college students from parishes all over Iowa and beyond. These people experience any number of decent to bad liturgical practices in their church of origin. I watched the silent gesture to stand at our 10PM Mass on Wednesday. It was almost 100% students. Lots of people were whispering before Mass–a sort of hushed murmur in the building. The group leader resisted the urge to “instruct” the inattentive and I was very glad. It took about ten seconds for everybody to stand, and it showed two things. First, that good liturgy is not military formation and that people can take their time. Second, when you’re in church and Mass is close to starting, it’s a good idea to pay attention. Or at least, cultivate a side awareness in one’s conversations or prayers. I noticed people sitting quietly, inwardly attentive, who were standing toward the end of the movement.

I once told a cantor before Mass, “Tell the people to stand silently.”

“Please stand silently,” the instruction came.

Take my own advice, I thought. Show, don’t tell.

Science Fiction fans and critics love Neal Stephenson. His recent novels are expansive, epic, and bold. The premise of his latest, Anathem, caught my attention four weeks ago. What if monasteries existed not for religious people, but for scientists and philosophers? Nine hundred pages later, I’m a believer.

Anathem was sf site’s reader’s choice and critic’s choice for best novel of 2008. I haven’t read enough of the competition to agree, but Anathem is the best adult novel I’ve read in a year or two.

And yet, I can’t quite jump on the bandwagon of unqualified gushing. True, Stephenson writes a complex and engaging work. True, his plot twists leave a reader roller-coaster-dizzy. True, excellent ideas and true, excellent characters–even romantic ones. It might be that I’m not engaged by long philosophical discussions. When I read a novel, I want to be told a story, not receive a lecture in philosophy.

It’s probably the mark of a great writer that he can spend ten to twenty percent of a book in dense discussions on very, very deep material and overall, I still like it. Good thing the action sequences are snappy, exciting, and engaging.

A hard-core sf reader probably needs to read a Neal Stephenson book to get introduced. A novice sf reader would get a skewed view of sf authors reading this book. You’d get an author much more skilled than average, and more ideas that you would usually find in the most imaginative fiction.

Here’s a question: how many books have a video trailer?

I saw this quick piece on Nashville Bishop David Choby’s visit to a Protestant university. Nice. Not surprising that reformation churches would latch on to this tradition. Not surprising at all. Check out Bishop Choby on video.

When I was at Michigan State in the mid-90′s, one of our ministry colleagues in the Baptist parish was a Notre Dame liturgy grad. He asked me for ashes his first year in East Lansing.  We burned our palms for ashes and had plenty to spare, I told him. I passed on a recipe and a contact with a Catholic goods store in the area.

Todd Johnson, of the Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena:

We have a whole generation of people who are familiar with using symbols. Kids have grown up using icons on their computers. Symbols mean more to them than words.

Dr Johnson also thinks 9/11 sparked a deeper observance of Ash Wednesday:

(The ashes are) a reminder of your baptism, and time to examine your life. The ashes used to be a sign of sin. Now they are a sign of our mortality.

Maybe that’s part of it. One of the possible acclamations to greet the penitent is “Remember that you are dust …” and that communicates mortality on the surface.

Jimmy Mac sent this link on Archbishop Malcolm Ranjith’s foreword in a new book on liturgy. He added his own title, “They just won’t give up.” No, I don’t think they will. Archbishop Ranjith doesn’t have a very good grasp of history or the intent of the Second Vatican Council. Many, many council bishops rejected the pre-conciliar shenanigans of the curia, who wanted a quick-in, quick-out rubber stamp of their authority of modernism.

Why are the curia modernists? How are they not? It’s all about power and control, and you don’t see anything like them in the Scriptures or Patristics or Orthodox Christianity. Holy Orders is deacons, priests, and bishops. It is not about cardinals, secretaries, and dignitaries.

Some practices which Sacrosanctum Concilium had never even contemplated were allowed into the Liturgy, like Mass versus populum, Holy Communion in the hand, altogether giving up on the Latin and Gregorian Chant in favor of the vernacular and songs and hymns without much space for God, and extension beyond any reasonable limits of the faculty to concelebrate at Holy Mass. There was also the gross misinterpretation of the principle of “active participation.”

Um, no, archbishop.

Vatican II, as its critics are fond of pointing out, wasn’t a true dogmatic council. And in spirit, this is true. It left work to be completed by bishops in consultation with clergy and laity in churches around the world. In the sense it did not give the curia a blueprint for control, then yes, there were things the secretaries, dignitaries, and some cardinals did not envision.

Too bad.

Archbishop Ranjith could have joined us on this web site for our perusal of every significant conciliar and post-conciliar document. If you were reading along, you have one on the CDWDS Secretary, because it’s pretty plain he didn’t read Sacrosanctum Concilium 30:

To promote active participation, the people should be encouraged to take part by means of acclamations, responses, psalmody, antiphons, and songs, as well as by actions, gestures, and bodily attitudes. And at the proper times all should observe a reverent silence.

It seems that many Vatican II critics seem content to just repeat the same myths. Like telling scary bedtime stories to your kids: eventually they think twice about sticking their foot over the edge. But Catholics–laity and prelates alike–need to grow up. Growing up means facing the truth. And the truth is that every “not-contemplated” development he lists were approved by almost every bishop in the world in the years following the council. And others, such as the “giving up” on chant, was well underway before Vatican II. Had Sacrosanctum Concilium been written in 1870, or better yet, 1563, then the treasury of Roman musical style may well have saved and permitted to evolve in far different ways. Anathemas and infallibility were higher priorities for Rome than music and art. Go figure.

Wouldn’t it be interesting to see and hear these guys discuss liturgy not in the forewords of each others’ books, but with people who have a different grasp of the events and follow-up of the council?

Cardinal Wilfrid Napier, Archbishop of Durban, South Africa, member of ICEL’s episcopal board, wades into the liturgy mess he authorized this past Advent in his country. In his opinion piece, he offers an impassioned defense of recent Vatican documentation on translation. So you get his view on why the upcoming translation is a good one.

The title “Why the new Mass translations were necessary” dodges a few questions for which we’d like to get answers.

Just three choice quotes:

(T)oday (bishop’s) conferences have suitably qualified lay people, religious and priests serving on liturgy commissions, and even parishes have liturgy committees. So the possibilities of wider and more meaningful consultation are infinitely better. As a direct result of this latter fact, when ICEL consults its member conferences, the responses they receive include a far wider range of views. Therefore it is not accurate or true to say that the bishops decide alone, or without hearing what the laity have to say.

Some might say the bishops hardly decide at all. Remember when the US bishops leveled complaint at their input being ignored by ICEL? They managed a vote for the Order of Mass; after all they get to stick us laity with a poor effort there. I think they realize they will be getting an earful from their brother priests who will be on the front lines implementing. Why else would Roman Missal part II have failed to muster support? Cardinal Napier, no doubt, has a rector at his cathedral and a music director/liturgist on hire. Unlike most clergy, he won’t have to stare down upset and unwilling parishioners.

Not only were experts consulted, but non-experts should keep their noses out of the matter:

… I believe not every lay person is qualified to criticise the work done by hand-picked experts in a variety of fields, ranging from liturgy, Church history, biblical languages (Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic), patristic theology, anthropology, and so on.

I would therefore strongly challenge the assumption that a free-for-all on the quality of the ICEL translation is fair, and even more that it is right for The Southern Cross to promote such an impression.

More of the notion of the poor, dumb laity: we know what’s good for you; just do as you’re told.

Cardinal Napier takes a swipe at the messenger:

Most disappointing, disturbing indeed, is the editorial in which the editor openly encourages dissent [Editor’s note: The editorial, titled “Liturgical anger”, did not promote dissent, but merely observed the nature of the reaction]. When oh when is our beloved Southern Cross going to become again the voice of a Church which believes implicitly and explicitly in the presence and guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Commentary:

Why was Napier so eager to implement? He’s on ICEL’s special bishop’s committee. Doesn’t he know the game plan? The assumption here in the US has been that no changes will be made until the whole body of the Roman Missal has been approved. A commenter here reports that Cardinal Napier has been asked to yank the Order of Mass he promulgated this past Advent. That’s not going to end well for him.

If he pulls back the new to obey Rome, it will appear as if his “inexpert” clergy and laity have won. If he dawdles, his opponents will paint him as disobedient and unfaithful. Does a cardinal archbishop have the pull to negotiate an exception? And if he does, what happens if his ICEL colleagues and Rome decide on a few adjustments?

An important matter like liturgical translation is seen as something more flighty than sound, something that can be done and undone at personal whim. Make a decision, then fabricate a theology to match.

The General Introduction distinguishes between parish priests who have the responsibility of pastor, and priests and deacons who do not.

13. It is the duty of parish priests (pastors) to assist the bishop in the instruction and baptism of the adults entrusted to their care, unless the bishop makes other provisions. Parish priests (pastors), with the assistance of catechists or other qualified laypersons, have the duty of preparing the parents and godparents of children through appropriate pastoral guidance and of baptizing the children. 

14. Other priests and deacons, since they are co-workers in the ministry of bishops and parish priests (pastors), also prepare candidates for baptism and, by the invitation or consent of the bishop or parish priest (pastor), celebrate the sacrament.

It’s all very hierarchical, but it does give an orderly landscape for responsibility. Bishops share with pastors. Pastors share with lay catechists. Note the reference in GICI 13 is for the baptism of children. Take that as you will.

In order for an ordinary minister to celebrate baptism (or any sacrament, really) that “invitation or consent” from the ordinary pastor is needed.

Excellent homily here from the pastor at the noon Mass. He touched on the three pillars briefly, but zeroed in on the passage from 2 Corinthians, especially this:

So we are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us.

Those marks on your foreheads, he reminded us, are your ambassadorial credentials.

Lent has a baptismal focus (Sacrosanctum Concilium 109) as well as a penitential one, and certainly, the spread of the gospel, evangelization, and serving as a witness to and ambassador for Christ is all tied up in the baptismal theme. I won’t hear the Ash Wednesday readings again without being drawn to Saint Paul. Being an ambassador implies a certain diplomacy, if you will. The charge for the apostolic believer is just like that of a diplomat: gentleness, cajoling, giving up a comfort zone for life on strange turf, adaptable–in other words, being all things to all so that some might be saved.

The cross, with which the ashes are traced upon us, is the sign of Christ’s victory over death. The words, “Remember that thou art dust and that to dust thou shall return” are not to be taken as the quasi-form of a kind of “sacrament of death” (as if such a thing were possible). It might be good stoicism to receive a mere reminder of our condemnation to die, but it is not Christianity.

 

(This is Neil) The following excerpt is from Merton’s short article, “Ash Wednesday,” which appeared in Worship in 1959. (If I remember correctly, it was later reprinted in Seasons of Celebration [1965].)

It is necessary that at the beginning of this fast, the Lord should show Himself to us in His mercy. The purpose of Lent is not so much expiation, to satisfy the divine justice, as a preparation to rejoice in His love. And this preparation consists in receiving the gift of His mercy—a gift which we receive in so far as we open our hearts to it, casting out what cannot remain in the same room with mercy.

Now one of the things we must cast out first of all is fear. Fear narrows the little entrance of our heart. It shrinks up our capacity to love. It freezes up our power to give ourselves. If we were terrified of God as a terrible judge, we would not confidently await His mercy, or approach Him trustfully in prayer. Our peace, our joy in Lent are a guarantee of grace.

And in laying upon us the light cross of ashes, the Church desires to take off our shoulders all other heavy burdens—the crushing load of worry and guilt, the dead weight of our own self-love. We should not take upon ourselves a “burden” of penance and stagger into Lent as if we were Atlas, carrying the whole world on his shoulders.

Perhaps there is small likelihood of our doing so. But in any case, penance is conceived by the Church less as a burden than as a liberation. It is only a burden to those who take it up unwillingly. Love makes it light and happy. And that is another reason why Ash Wednesday is filled with the lightness of love.

In some monastic communities, monks go up to receive the ashes barefoot. Going barefoot is a joyous thing. It is good to feel the floor of the earth under your feet. It is good when the whole church is silent, filled with the hush of men walking without shoes. One wonders why we wear such things as shoes anyway. Prayer is so much more meaningful without them. It would be good to take them off in church all the time. But perhaps this might appear quixotic to those who have forgotten such very elementary satisfactions. Someone might catch cold at the mere thought of it—so let’s return to the liturgy.

…

Nowhere will we find more tender expressions of the divine mercy than on this day. His mercy is kind. He looks upon us “according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies.” In the introit we sing: “Thou hast mercy upon all (Misereris omnium), O Lord, and hatest none of the things which Thou hast made, overlooking the sins of men for the sake of repentance and sparing them, because Thou art the Lord our God.”

How good are these words of Wisdom in a time when on all sides the Lord is thought by men to be a God who hates. Those who deny Him say they do so because evil in the world could be the work only of a God that hated the world.

But even those who profess to love Him regard Him too often as a furious Father, who seeks only to punish and to revenge Himself for the evil that is done “against Him” — One who cannot abide the slightest contradiction but will immediately mark it down for retribution, and will not let a farthing of the debt go unpaid.

This is not the God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who Himself “hides” our sins (dissimulans peccata) and gets them out of sight, like a mother making quick and efficient repairs on the soiled face of a child just before entering a house where he ought to appear clean. The blessing of the ashes knows Him only as the “God who desires not the death of the sinner,” “who is moved by humiliation and appeased by satisfaction.” He is everywhere shown to us as “plenteous in mercy—multum misericors”

And from the infinite treasure of His mercies He draws forth the gift of compunction. This is a sorrow without servile fear, which is all the more deep and tender as it receives pardon from the tranquil, calm love of the merciful Lord: a love which the liturgy calls, in two untranslatable words, serenissima pietas. The God of Ash Wednesday is like a calm sea of mercy, and in Him there is no anger.