CNA—Shortly after Pope Francis opposed the possibility of an ordained female diaconate, two German-speaking cardinals publicly have said that only men can be ordained to the priesthood.
“Women cannot be called to this office,” Cardinal Gerhard Ludwig Müller told Swiss portal kath.ch on June 7. “The priest represents Christ in his manhood.”
The German cardinal, who held the role of prefect of the Congregation—now Dicastery—for the Doctrine of the Faith from 2012 to 2017, stressed the theological and doctrinal underpinnings of this view, saying the prohibition of women from priestly ordination is deeply ingrained in the sacrament itself.
Cardinal Müller, who taught dogmatic theology at Munich’s Ludwig Maximilian University, emphasized “the fundamental equality of all people in their personal relationship with God,” be they man or woman.
Just as “a man cannot become a mother and a woman cannot become a father,” it is only men who are called to the priesthood, Cardinal Müller said, according to CNA Deutsch, CNA’s Germanlanguage news partner. “The vocation comes from God. One would have to complain to God himself that he created human beings as man and woman.”
Echoing the words of Pope
Story continued on page 2
The Evangelistic Power of the Liturgy: For the Seeker
or for the Faithful? (Part One)
How does the liturgy teach and evangelize? Father Aidan Kavanagh explains that although “the liturgy does indeed ‘teach,’ it teaches as any other ritual does—experientially, nondiscursively, richly, ambiguously, elementally. In which case it is better left alone to go its repetitious, archaic way so long as the symbols that make up its vocabulary are respected and left to voice their own robust chords of color, food and drink, movement…touch and smell, life and death, sound and rhythmic repetition. Symbols such as these, and the ritual language they go to make up, are imprecise, communicating not by removing ambiguity but by flooding the senses with it.”
By James Pauley
In a somewhat obscure passage in a 1997 pastoralcatechetical document, the Church describes the sacraments as “means” of evangelization (See Congregation for the Clergy, General Directory for Catechesis (GDC), 47).
Since the Eucharist is one of the seven sacraments, is it right to say the Eucharistic is such a “means” in the context of the sacramental celebration of the Mass? After all, the Eucharist contains “the whole spiritual good of the Church” (Presbyterorum Ordinis, 5). Is the idea of the Mass being a “means” of any kind beneath its dignity since the Eucharist is the summit and font of the whole Christian life? And, doesn’t this kind of language open the liturgy to all kinds of monopolization for pastoral purposes, turning it into something that it’s not? Moving as we are into a necessarily missionary orientation to broader society, in the years ahead we will need to think clearly about the liturgy’s evangelizing power. These questions, then, are important to engage.
Evangelization and Liturgy
“Is the idea of the Mass being a ‘means’ of any kind beneath its dignity?”
It’s important first to recognize that when the Church uses this term “evangelization,” she means it in a much broader sense than we typically presume. Following from Pope St. Paul VI, evangelization is the Church’s “deepest identity,” indeed, the reason for her existence (Evangelii Nuntiandi, 14). Rather than being conceived more narrowly as the initial proclamation of the kerygma to unbelievers or the sharing of one’s testimony to the power of God, evangelization also encompasses the entire process of disciple-making: from bearing witness to the Gospel to the deeper, lifelong encounters and formation of the sacramentally initiated (See GDC, 47 and Directory for Catechesis (2020), 31-32). In this sense, every human person is in need of being evangelized, from the person who does not know Christ and has not yet been “plunged into the Paschal Mystery” (Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC), 6) through the waters of baptism to the believing sacramentalized Catholic who is progressing in a life of sanctity over many decades.
Adoremus Bulletin
Master Class
The Mass has the power to evangelize, but not the way you might think: according to James Pauley, the Eucharist forms and transforms souls through a saturation of liturgical symbols 1
Liturgy Wars and Peace
Carol Anne Jones writes a survivor’s tale of growing up in the aftermath of the Second Vatican Council, discovering along the way how it was that the Church too survived—and thrives 5
Lawful Entry
While sacramental, theological, and historical contexts are essential to a proper ars celebrandi, Father James Bradley sees the Church’s laws as equally vital to the art of celebrating Mass 6
Canon and Missal
Adoremus co-founder Father Jerry Pokorsky provides a slow-motion walk-through of the Roman Canon (Eucharistic Prayer I) as a distillation of the Church’s sacramental mission in time and forever 9
Renewal Revisited
Father Daniel Cardó finds in his review of Louis Bouyer’s classic study, Liturgical Piety, that the Church’s liturgical renewal springs from a balanced understanding of Church tradition 12
AB/THOMAS HAWK ON FLICKR
Francis about the nature of the Church during an address the pope gave in Querida Amazonia, Cardinal Müller emphasized that the “Church cannot be represented by a man because she is female and Mary, the Mother of God, is her archetype. It is in the nature of the sacrament that only a man can represent Christ in relation to the Church.”
The German prelate’s pronouncements follow those of Cardinal Christoph Schönborn, archbishop of Vienna, CNA Deutsch reported.
In a sermon at ITI Catholic University in Austria on June 1, Cardinal Schönborn said he was “deeply convinced that the Church cannot and must not change this, because it must keep the mystery of women present in an unadulterated way.”
“We were all born of a woman,” he said. “This will always be reflected in the mystery of the Church.”
Like Müller, Cardinal Schönborn affirmed St. John Paul II’s teaching that the ordination of women would violate a fundamental ecclesiological principle.
In 1994, Pope John Paul II, citing the Church’s traditional teaching, declared in the apostolic letter Ordinatio Sacerdotalis:
“Wherefore, in order that all doubt may be removed regarding a matter of great importance, a matter which pertains to the Church’s divine constitution itself, in virtue of my ministry of confirming the brethren (cf. Luke 22:32) I declare that the Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women and that this judgment is to be definitively held by all the Church’s faithful.”
Vatican’s New Apparitions Guidelines Stress Caution in Discernment Process
By Matthew Santucci
CNA—Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández held a press conference on May 17 addressing the Vatican’s new guidelines on apparitions, with the prelate noting that the new norms would help introduce greater prudence in the discernment process.
“The Church has stated that the faithful are never forced to believe in this phenomenon. They are never obliged. There’s no obligation,” said Cardinal Fernández, the head of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, during the conference at the Holy See Press Office.
“The Church, as a matter of fact, leaves the faithful free to devote their attention to this phenomena or not,” he added. “Revelation that has already happened is the word of God. It contains everything we need for our Christian life.”
The document, titled “Norms for Proceeding in the Discernment of Alleged Supernatural Phenomena” and released on May 17, establishes new guidelines on Marian apparitions, abrogating a former document issued in 1978 under Pope Paul VI.
Noting that these new norms establish a set of pragmatic guidelines to assist the local ordinary as well as the dicastery, Cardinal Fernández said that “some phenomenon that could have a supernatural origin sometimes appear to be related to confused human experiences.”
Speaking specifically on the role of the bishops in the process, the cardinal observed that there have been instances in which some bishops have issued decrees on apparitions saying these events “should be considered as being true” and that the “faithful must believe, shall believe in this.”
“Quite often the bishop’s decrees have used these words,” Cardinal Fernández said.
He emphasized that these new norms will help bishops “have a prudential character so that the faithful can accept this in a prudent way.”
“The pastoral action of the bishops and then situations can be very different and therefore we decided to have six possible conclusions,” he added. “If we look at history, at the different cases, we recognize different kinds of situations that can be basically located within these six possibilities.”
The new norms outline three stages for the discernment process. At the end of the evaluation process, the local bishop and a delegate he appoints to oversee the commission’s work are to prepare a “personal votum” in which the bishop proposes to the dicastery a final judgment. That decision will normally follow one of six formulas, one of which is the “nihil obstat,” a pronouncement that means there are no doctrinal objections.
“Without expressing any certainty about the supernatural authenticity of the phenomenon itself, many
NEWS & VIEWS
signs of the action of the Holy Spirit are acknowledged ‘in the midst’ of a given spiritual experience, and no aspects that are particularly critical or risky have been detected, at least so far,” the document states.
Drawing on biblical examples, Cardinal Fernández noted that “right from the very beginning of the Church, the Holy Spirit itself, with charisms, promoted the necessary discernment of these manifestations. After 2,000 years, the Church still takes care of the faithful, helping them to be meek to the Holy Spirit.”
“These new norms are in continuity with this task,” he said.
Order of Christian Initiation of Adults to Be Used December 2024
Bishops’ Committee on Divine Worship
The English and Spanish editions of the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA) and Ritual de la Iniciación cristiana de adultos (RICA) were confirmed by the Holy See on February 14, 2024. Following the customary editorial review period by the Secretariat of Divine Worship, a timeline for implementation was recommended to and approved by Archbishop Timothy P. Broglio, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops President, in a decree of promulgation issued Easter Sunday, March 31, 2024.
The revised OCIA–RICA may first be used on the First Sunday of Advent, December 1, 2024, and the mandatory implementation date has been set for Ash Wednesday, March 5, 2025.
In addition, after the confirmation of the National Statutes for the Christian Initiation of Adults, that text was referred to the Secretariat of Doctrine for a review period. Following their recommendation, Archbishop Broglio promulgated the statutes on April 25, 2024, fixing the implementation date for the First Sunday of Advent, December 1, 2024, at which time the 1988 National Statutes for the Catechumenate will be abrogated.
What Is ‘Green Burial’ and Does the Catholic Church Allow It?
By Daniel Payne
CNA—In an era of increasing environmental consciousness, the practice of “green burials” is growing in popularity—including at numerous Catholic cemeteries throughout the United States.
The funeral and burial economies in the United States—commonly grouped together as the “death care industry”—are both financially lucrative and highly resource-intensive. The National Funeral Directors Association (NFDA) says on its website that the death care industry as a whole generated about $16 billion in the latest annual data.
Just over $3.3 billion of that amount is linked to “cemeteries and crematories.” Industry estimates, meanwhile, indicate that cemeteries bury tens of thousands of tons of steel coffins every year, along with several million gallons of “embalming fluids” such as formaldehyde and methanol.
The significant environmental costs of those materials has led many to seek alternative forms of interment, such as “green” or “natural” burials, which use considerably fewer resources and are more environmentally friendly as a result.
Cathy Vail, the executive director of the Catholic Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Rochester, NY, said green burial is “a process that returns humans to earth as simply as possible.”
“The main difference from common burial practices is the interment process,” Vail told CNA.
In green burials, she said, caskets are placed directly in the ground rather than in a poured concrete “vault.”
The body, meanwhile, “must be in a biodegradable container (casket/urn) or shroud,” rather than the more common steel-fabricated coffins.
“Each cemetery may have different ‘levels’ or certification of green/natural burial,” she said. “These will determine the level of maintenance of the section.”
The Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Rochester, she said, is certified via the Green Burial Council, which requires a certain level of upkeep in the cemetery’s green burial sections. Uncertified cemeteries, she noted, can let their green plots grow more wild if they so choose.
At the Rochester facility’s newest burial section, green burials account for “44% of all graves purchased,” Vail said. The Green Burial Council says on its website that surveys show a “growing interest” in the practice.
Deacon Ed Handel, the director of the Office of Cemeteries and Funeral Services at the Catholic Diocese of Richmond, VA, told CNA that the diocese offers green burials at one of its cemeteries, located at the city of Roanoke in the western part of the state.
“It’s becoming a more popular request,” Deacon Handel said. The diocese has sold several burial spots in the green section, he said, though they have not yet buried any bodies there.
Perhaps the most notable difference in green burials is the absence of embalming fluid in the preparation process. The vast majority of burials in the U.S. include embalming, in which the body is preserved using numerous chemicals to allow for viewings and wakes. The practice became widely used during and after the U.S. Civil War.
In addition to the lack of embalming, Deacon Handel said, a green burial casket is a relatively simple receptacle. The body is “placed in, for lack of a better term, a plain pine box,” he said. “There’s nothing artificial—no metal, no varnish—so that it naturally decomposes.”
“Instead of six feet deep, the burial is actually done in the three- to four-foot-deep range, because that’s optimal for body decomposition,” he said.
The lack of a concrete vault in green burials, Deacon Handel said, does present some structural challenges. A vault “keeps the grave from caving in when the casket breaks down,” he said.
“With green burial there is no vault,” he noted. “Obviously in those areas there will be more backfill required as time goes on, because the body will decompose and the casket will cave in.”
The Roanoke facility isn’t the only Catholic green burial option in the state: Several years ago Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville began offering green burials.
The abbey on its website says that, in its green burial process, “the body [is not] embalmed,” the casket is not made of metal, and there is no concrete vault.
Graves, meanwhile, “are marked with simple engraved stones obtained from these same sacred grounds.”
Other environmentally friendly forms of burial have been the subject of debate in recent years, and the Church has declared some of them unsuitable for Catholics.
Some environmental advocates have argued that “human composting” offers a solution to resourceintensive burials. In that practice, a human body is placed inside a reusable container where deliberately seeded microbes and bacteria break it down into soil.
The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops last year said that human composting, along with the chemical-based process of alkaline hydrolysis, “pose serious problems in that they fail to manifest the respect for last remains that Catholic faith requires.”
Green burials, in contrast, are permitted by the Catholic Church, Deacon Handel said, reiterating that the practice is perfectly in line with Church teaching.
“From the Catholic perspective, I don’t see why we shouldn’t promote green burial,” he said, “because it goes back to our tradition that the preferred method of disposition at the end of your life is a full body burial, not cremation.”
Vail echoed those remarks, calling green burials “the original form of burial.”
“The final act in the Catholic rites of burial is the committal in consecrated ground,” she said. “Therefore, this type of burial is in line with Catholic teaching.”
Here Comes Everybody!—Processing a Eucharistic Procession
By Christopher Carstens, Editor
On June 7, more than three thousand Catholics (and some non-Catholics) walked in a mile long Eucharistic Procession from Minnesota into La Crosse, Wisconsin by way of this city’s Cameron Street Bridge, which spans the Mississippi River, the natural border between the North Star State and the Dairy State. At the peak of the bridge, Bishop Robert Barron of Winona-Rochester, MN, stopped, turned back to the west, and blessed his diocese with the Monstrance. He returned to the east, blessed the city and Diocese of La Crosse, and commenced down the bridge to the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi River. Like many of those who attended, I brought my family to take part.
As the procession continued from this benediction, I caught sight of what I thought might be trouble. A white pickup truck made an abrupt stop, pulling over to the side of the bridge near where the canopy sheltering the Blessed Sacrament was passing, and the driver got out. But about that time, a cameraman from a local television station was filming the event, and so I figured the pickup driver was a part of that crew. No trouble, after all….
I continued moving forward with the procession, passing the man, so he was soon out of my sight. It wasn’t until the next day, when my kids and my nieces and nephews recounted how the pickup driver walked to the side of the road, knelt on the highway, and prayed for a short time, before making the sign of the cross, returned to his truck, and continued on his way.
The Diocese of La Crosse’s June 7 procession and Mass was remarkable. Did each of the thousands of participants have an encounter similar to my witnessing the spontaneous piety of a passerby? Furthermore, what if we multiply such remarkable stories for the 60 days that the Perpetual Pilgrims escort Christ in the Blessed Sacrament on the roads—and there are four such routes—then the number of encounters between Christ and his people in the United States would likely add up to…too many to count! Surely, the disciples on the road to Emmaus would be impressed!
Let me return to my pickup driver. His reaction to seeing our Lord in procession has changed my way of thinking about this summer’s National Eucharistic Pilgrimage—a part of the USCCB’s endeavor to revive Eucharistic belief, celebration, and living through four nationwide processions that will converge in Indianapolis on July 16. And by “changed my way of thinking,” I don’t mean that I am now a supporter of processions and the concept of the Eucharistic Revival—Adoremus has been enthusiastic about them from the start—but that I’ve come to an ever-greater appreciation of the power of the Eucharistic procession.
When the Eucharistic Revival was first announced, many thought that it was principally about new and better catechesis on the Eucharist, or that it was an endeavor to begin or emphasize Eucharistic devotions, such as adoration, holy hours—or processions. And while each of these aspects are a part of the Revival, the core of the Revival lays—or should lay—upon the altar of sacrifice at the Mass. Catechesis, preaching, and teaching are meant to lead from the source of our faith— Christ—back to an encounter with him—he who is the summit. And Eucharistic devotions ought to emerge from the celebration of the Eucharist at Mass. Pope Benedict XVI said as much when he wrote that “the eucharistic celebration…is itself the Church’s supreme act of adoration” (Sacramentum Caritatis, 66). The Mass, then, stands at the heart of our Eucharistic faith. For in it, Christ not only presents himself body, blood, soul, and divinity—such a great gift to us!—but also carries out his sacrifice that unites himself to the Father, in the Spirit, upon the cross, for the life of the world—an even greater gift than his presence among us.
If the Mass is the heart of our Eucharistic faith, and thus Eucharistic devotions are secondary, two possible conclusions may result. The first says that extra-liturgical Eucharistic devotions—adoration and processions—ought to be downplayed so that they
Eucharistic Congresses
Editor’s note: The Catholic Church in the United States will celebrate the Tenth National Eucharistic Congress from July 17-21, 2024, in Indianapolis, IN. It will be the first since the Ninth Eucharistic Congress in 1941 in St. Paul, MN. Because such an event is relatively rare, questions naturally arise. What is a Eucharistic Congress? What do people do there? Are there norms that direct its celebration? The ritual text, “Holy Communion and Worship of the Eucharistic Mystery outside Mass” (a revised translation of which will go into effect on the first Sunday of Advent, 2024), contains general information for such a congress.
III. EUCHARISTIC CONGRESSES
109. Eucharistic congresses, which have been introduced into the life of the Church in more recent times as a special manifestation of Eucharistic worship, should be considered as a “station” to which a particular community invites the entire local Church, or a local Church invites other Churches of a particular region or nation, or even from the entire world, that together they may understand more deeply some aspect of the mystery of the Eucharist and worship it publicly in the bond of love and unity. It is therefore essential that congresses of this sort be a true sign of faith and love by reason of the full participation of the local Church and the association, indicated above, of other Churches.
110. Suitable studies should be made of the place, theme and program for the celebration of the congresses, both by the local Church and by other Churches. These studies should lead to the consideration of genuine needs and should foster the progress of theological study and the good of the local Church. In these inquiries, the assistance of experts in theological, biblical, liturgical, and pastoral matters, as well as in the human sciences, should be employed.
111. In preparing for a congress, the following should be done above all: a) more thorough catechesis on the Eucharist, especially as the mystery of Christ living and working in the Church, suited to the capacity of different groups;
The Mass stands at the heart of our Eucharistic faith. For in it, Christ not only presents himself body, blood, soul, and divinity, but he also carries out his sacrifice that unites himself to the Father, in the Spirit, upon the cross, for the life of the world. But a Eucharistic procession extends the source, going out into the streets, and leads others from various corners of our city and country up to the summit. What is contained by space and time, overflows. What is limited to a small group, expands. What speaks to those in attendance, evangelizes.
don’t eclipse the true center, the Mass. The second says that these same devotions ought to be properly celebrated so that, rather than overshadowing the Mass, they illuminate it and draw us back to it. It is this second conclusion that most bishops promote. It is also what Adoremus itself works toward. And it is this dynamic that I found on full display in our recent diocesan celebrations.
For while the Mass remains the source and summit of our Eucharistic faith, it has its limitations—at least, since God himself cannot be contained, there are limitations placed upon it from the nature of our finite world. That is, the celebration of the Eucharist happens at a fixed point (an altar and church), at a given time (Sunday mornings especially), with those who choose to attend (a specific assembly). But a Eucharistic procession extends the source, going out into the streets, and leads others from various corners of our city and country up to the summit. What is contained by space and time, overflows. What is limited to a small group, expands. What speaks to those in attendance, evangelizes.
Or, as Elizabeth Kitzhaber, a young Catholic who participated in the June 7 procession, said in a National Catholic Register story on the event: “A lot of people are forgetting about how true the Eucharist is. And a public event like this helps spread this truth more quickly! One by one takes longer, but through these big gatherings, more people’s hearts are touched and then they are able to go out and spread the truth to more people.”
Our three-year period of Eucharistic Revival, it seems, works for these same ends. The Eucharist is our source and summit, and the celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice at Mass roots all other endeavors. But catechesis, devotion, and a life transformed extend and amplify the Mass. May the endeavors of so many youth, laity, clergy, and bishops— strengthened by the grace of the sacraments—find fruitful grace hidden in the accidents of bread and wine in the years ahead.
b) more active participation in the Sacred Liturgy, fostering at the same time a prayerful hearing of the word of God and the fraternal sense of the community;13
c) the study of resources and the implementation of social works for the sake of human development and the right distribution of goods, including temporal goods, following the example of the primitive Christian community,14 so that the leaven of the Gospel, as a force in the growth of contemporary society, and the pledge of future glory15 may be diffused in some measure from the Eucharistic table.
112. The celebration itself of the congress should follow these criteria:16
a) the celebration of the Eucharist should truly be the center and summit to which all the undertakings and various forms of piety should be directed;
b) celebrations of the word of God, catechetical sessions, and public conferences should be planned, so that the proposed theme may be explored more deeply and its practical aspects set out more clearly;
c) opportunity should be given, either for common prayers or for extended adoration before the Most Blessed Sacrament, exposed in certain designated churches that seem more suitable for this pious exercise;
d) the norms for Eucharistic processions should be observed with regard to the organization of the procession, so that the Most Blessed Sacrament is carried through the streets of the city with common hymns and prayers,17 taking into account the social and religious conditions of the place.
13. Second Vatican Council, Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, nos. 41-52; Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium, no. 26.
Cf Acts 4:32.
Second Vatican Council, Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 47; Decree on Ecumenism, Unitatis redintegratio, no. 15.
16. Cf. Sacred Congregation of Rites, Instruction Eucharisticum mysterium, no. 67: Acta Apostolicæ Sedis 59 (1967), pp. 572-573.
17. Cf. above, nos. 101-108.
In other words, evangelization is meant to occur all the way through a person’s life. Venerable Madeleine Delbrêl (1904–1964) describes the Christian life as a life of encounter that leads to profound change: “Alive, [the words of the Gospel] are themselves like the initial leavening that will attack our dough and ferment it into a new way of life.”1 Each of us, no matter where we are on the journey into sanctity, has “dough” that needs to be attacked and fermented.
Understood in this broader sense, the Mass is indeed a means of evangelization, where we encounter both Christ proclaiming his Gospel (SC, 7) and the Paschal Mystery made present and accessible (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1104) as sources of grace and healing. The Catholic life consists of living in and from this liturgical encounter, which serves as a catalyst for the metanoia and christification of each of us and our broader human communities. Pope John Paul II describes well the necessity of the sacraments to the conversion of the Christian when he wrote, “it is in the sacraments, especially in the Eucharist, that Christ Jesus works in fullness for the transformation of human beings” (Catechesi Tradendae, 23). Our conversion, the gradual conforming of ourselves to Christ, is a work of God in us, with which we must freely cooperate. It is the evangelistic work of a lifetime, beginning with the first movement of grace and ending as we take our final breath. The Mass and the other sacraments, as primary sources of grace, and also where the Gospel is most powerfully proclaimed, are central to this process of becoming more and more like the One whom we follow as members of the baptized, as disciples.
Let’s consider the Mass and how it evangelizes and then, in the next installment, the important pastoral question today of who the liturgy is meant to evangelize.
“ The evangelist works hard to be unambiguous and clear in proclamation, teaching, testimony, and exhortation. But that kind of clarity isn’t to be found in the extravagant symbolic structure of sacramental celebrations.”
Language of the Liturgy
How does the liturgy evangelize us? The Paschal Mystery of Christ, which is the source of every grace and movement towards conversion, is made present to us in the liturgy through the use of a sacramental language system.
One important 20th-century liturgical theologian, Benedictine Father Aidan Kavanagh, provides a helpful description for understanding the nature of this sacramental language system. While Kavanagh here is describing how the liturgy “teaches,” his language can be equally applied to evangelization and is helpful to us. Kavanagh puts it this way: “[A]lthough the liturgy does indeed ‘teach,’ it teaches as any other ritual does— experientially, nondiscursively, richly, ambiguously, elementally. In which case it is better left alone to go its repetitious, archaic way so long as the symbols that make up its vocabulary are respected and left to voice their own robust chords of color, food and drink, movement…touch and smell, life and death, sound and rhythmic repetition. Symbols such as these, and the ritual language they go to make up, are imprecise, communicating not by removing ambiguity but by flooding the senses with it. Much meaning is drawn together into foci that are so complex they do not permit exhaustive verbal definitions concerning what any one focal point means. What, for example, do gold rings on the hands of a couple married 50 years ‘mean’?”2
The whole of the liturgical life employs deep, senseoriented, and wonderfully imprecise sacramental language, where the Mystery of Christ is encountered through the medium of sacramental signs and symbols. The senses are flooded with the lavish ambiguity of sacramental signs, and profound movements of selfemptying love are revealed and expressed. God loves us and pours out his grace by way of these sacramental signs, and our adoration and praise also rises to God through the use of this same language.3 This exchange
of love with God happens in ways that engage all of our senses. Through this language, passed down in the liturgy from the earliest generations, we are placed into proximity to the Paschal Mystery of Christ, the cause of all grace and conversion. Every aspect of this experience evangelizes.
Liturgical evangelization is quite distinct from how we evangelistically communicate the Mystery of Christ when we proclaim it or share a testimony. The evangelist, for instance, works hard to be unambiguous and clear in proclamation, teaching,
testimony, and exhortation. But that kind of clarity isn’t to be found in the extravagant symbolic structure of sacramental celebrations. Yet, this extravagance is necessary and good! This is the Paschal Mystery we encounter, after all, made accessible to us through what we see, hear, taste, touch, and smell throughout the liturgical celebration. This is the mystery of mysteries and we should, in fact, expect it to be not so easily categorized and immediately understood. Benedictine Father Jeremy Driscoll explains, with memorable imagery: “[I]t goes without saying that we
Our conversion, the gradual conforming of ourselves to Christ, is a work of God in us, with which we must freely cooperate. It is the evangelistic work of a lifetime, beginning with the first movement of grace and ending as we take our final breath. The Mass and the other sacraments, as primary sources of grace, and also where the Gospel is most powerfully proclaimed, are central to this process of becoming more and more like the One whom we follow as members of the baptized, as disciples.
By Carol Anne Jones
ANotes from the Nave: Growing Up with Vatican II
s a child starting school in the late 1950s, there was not much about “hearing” Mass that was readily accessible to me. There were lots of intriguing mysteries about what went on up there between the priest (whose back was turned to us) and the Tabernacle (directly in front of him on the altar) to which he seemed to be whispering in secret; however, little of it filtered down to the fourth-to-the-last pew of the nave of St. Ann’s Parish, our usual Sunday morning haunt.
I spent the first five years of Catholic school memorizing the Baltimore Catechism. We were also taught to honor with extreme reverence all things related to the Mass. We were told that the sanctuary (inside the altar rail) was a hallowed space, honored with the same respect as the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies. I would never dare to touch the Holy Eucharist or the chalice—only the priest’s hands, anointed with chrism at his ordination, were permitted to touch the Sacred Elements. Low Mass most Sundays was very quiet—the people had only a few phrases to speak aloud; they hardly ever sang. Only the priest heard the words of Consecration, spoken in whispers as he bowed low before the tabernacle in the center of the altar—his back to the congregation. All we understood was that the priest was conversing with God, participating in the great mystery of the miracle of transubstantiation.
Sadly, however, Mass was not always shrouded in solemnity: the Old Rite had its abuses, too. “Phoning in Mass” sounds very critical, but some priests spoke the Latin phrases so quickly that it sounded like gibberish—even if the congregation followed the English translations in their missals. Some priests were
Continued from EVANGELIZATION, page 4
do not understand the Mass as well as we should, but it would be a mistake to think that the Mass should be immediately understandable to all. How could it be? It is the summit of the Christian life. One does not begin at the summit; a summit is arrived at slowly and with effort. People—believers and unbelievers alike—cannot expect to come in off the street and demand to have something immediately meaningful to them. And who defines meaningful in any case? I will not get very far in understanding the Mass if I think I have the right to have it be meaningful to me in ways that I define. That would take away all possibility of receiving the Mass as a gift from another, from God. He defines it. It is His initiative, His action.”4
For the Young and Not-So-Young While the liturgy evangelizes us over the course of a lifetime and has had the capacity to draw even the greatest of saints more deeply into the Mystery of Christ, it also can evangelize those who are very young in their Christian life. In my own experience, I was 14 years old when I first became alert to the Mystery in which I was enveloped at Mass. This moment of awakening didn’t unfold for me on a retreat or at a youth conference. Rather, it happened in the midst of the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday. Divine providence placed my family in a parish where the music was beautiful, the members of the assembly were clearly invested in the prayer of the Mass, and the pastor prayed the ritual intently. And it was there on Holy Thursday that the Holy Spirit helped me see truly who this was, who was made present when the Eucharistic host was elevated and the pastor prayed “through him, with him, and in him….” Sacramental language, in its beauty and mystery, spoke convincingly to me that night. This language speaks across the generations as well. We know, of course, that this language speaks powerfully to children as well as to adults. Perhaps it speaks most clearly to the little ones. That great pioneer of children’s catechesis, Sofia Cavalletti, once wrote: “It is a fact that the child seems capable of seeing the Invisible, almost as if it were more tangible and real than the immediate reality….[C]hildren penetrate effortlessly beyond the veil of signs and ‘see’ with utmost facility their transcendent meaning, as if there were no barrier between the visible and the invisible.”5
Children can indeed be profoundly evangelized through their encounter with this language in the celebration of the liturgy. A close friend of mine,
them, seeing the bread and wine as the
transubstantiation took place before our eyes. It was like taking a tour of the Holy of Holies in the Temple. But other aspects of the changes did not seem to make sense. And if the adults were bewildered, just imagine how confusing it was for a child!
proud of the expeditious way they could “say” Mass, and a contingent of the laity preferred to “hear” Mass as quickly as possible. Going to Holy Communion was not the same then, either. Most of the congregation did not receive on a regular basis; they felt the need
Elizabeth Siegel, describes this reality vividly, recounting an early memory of a profound, deeply formative Easter vigil liturgy. She writes: “The waiting was long—we had come early to get seats, but I did not get sleepy. I loved the hushed darkness, for I could sense a shared anticipation in the people gathered, who waited too. And when the towering abbey doors swung open, revealing the first light of the Paschal Candle, I was spell-bound. The light danced as the acolyte moved, casting strange shadows on the plain white abbey walls. We responded in loud unison, ‘Thanks be to God,’ as the candle was lifted high. Strangers passed on to us the light of the Easter fire, and we held it each in our hands. Then the abbot began the Exsultet, and my heart trembled within me. I heard power. I heard majesty. I heard nobility. I heard the proclamation of something far greater than I…. And all the places I have heard the Exsultet chanted in Latin in the twelfth century Cistercian monastery in Fribourg, Switzerland, or at the Dominican House of Studies in Washington DC, and in parish churches everywhere…my heart always swells and I become more.”6
The Crisis of Liturgical Boredom
The liturgy has this kind of evangelistic influence. Yet, in our parishes today, a significant problem confronts us. A great many of us, especially many children and teenagers, would say that we are “bored” at Mass. The beauty and power and irreplaceability of the liturgy in the Christian life has not yet been perceived on a wide scale within many of our parishes. And if we are bored, disconnected, uninterested, and distracted, it is unlikely we will be influenced, converted, sanctified, and ultimately divinized. Christ Jesus may indeed, hearkening back to St. John Paul II’s words, be working in fullness for our transformation, but if we are “bored” then such a transformation is unlikely to be the result of our experience, closed and disinterested as we are before the movement of grace. This is particularly true when we live without the supports of an accompanying Catholic community either in our homes or parish. While it is highly likely that there were many Catholics three and four generations ago who may have been—at least once or twice in their lifetimes (humor intended here)—“bored” at Mass, it was unlikely back then that they would have fallen away from sacramental practice for this reason. Today, of course, for a variety of cultural reasons, we are in significantly different waters. The U.S. Bishops insightfully point out what sets apart 21st-century Catholic young people from those of
to prepare spiritually by going to Confession the week before receiving the Holy Eucharist—demonstrating a deep reverence for Jesus at the most personal level. The only exception to this reticence to receive was during
Please see CHANGES on page 8
previous generations: “Young people are taught both by the excitement generated by technology and by the effervescence of popular culture to reject something if it bores them—and often the only things that do not bore them are those that seduce or titillate” (National Directory for Catechesis (2005), 12). Today, that which is boring is not endured until meaning might be discovered in it; rather, such practices today are easily abandoned, frequently at a very young age.
Therefore, on the one hand, the sacred liturgy is an experience that Pope Benedict XVI once likened to nuclear fission on the spiritual level (Sacramentum Caritatis, 11): it is a locus of the power of God and will make even the worst of us into great saints, provided we cooperate with its grace. And, on the other hand, if our interior disposition is not attuned to the movement of God in the Mass, if we don’t freely cooperate with the grace we encounter, then on the subjective level our boredom will close us off to the Mystery which is made present to us.
What are pastoral leaders to do, facing the complexities of this issue? In the next installment, we will constructively engage one contemporary model which, I believe, approaches this issue wrongly. And then, we will consider some ideas I hope are helpful to our navigation of this problem today.
Dr. James Pauley is Professor of Theology and Catechetics at Franciscan University of Steubenville and Editor of the Catechetical Review. He was appointed to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops’ executive team for the Eucharistic Revival and is the author of several books, including Liturgical Catechesis in the 21st Century, which focuses on the renewal of liturgical and sacramental catechesis. He enjoys offering days of reflection and formation for catechists as well as parish missions.
1. Madeleine Delbrêl, The Dazzling Light of God: A Madeleine Delbrêl Reader (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2023), 44.
2. Aidan Kavanaugh, OSB, “Teaching Through the Liturgy,” Notre Dame Journal of Education 5, no. 1 (Spring 1974), 40-41.
3. For more on these upwards and downwards movements in the liturgy, see Jeremy Driscoll, OSB, What Happens at Mass (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 2011).
4. Jeremy Driscoll, OSB, What Happens at Mass (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 2011), v-vi.
5. Sofia Cavalletti, The Religious Potential of the Child: Experiencing Scripture and Liturgy with Young Children, trans. Patricia M. Coulter and Julie M. Coulter (Chicago: Catechesis of the Good Shepherd Publications, 1992), 43.
6. These words are published in James C. Pauley, Liturgical Catechesis in the 21st Century: A School of Discipleship—revised edition (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 2022), 103.
Watching the Mass with the priest facing us was like having grandma’s treasure chest open in front of us, where we could delve into all its delicious secrets. I was happy that the Mass now belonged to us, not just the priest; now we could hear and understand the holy words of the Consecration even as he spoke
miracle of
The Governance of Being: The Role of Law in the Liturgical Life of the Church
The sacramental-liturgical life of the Church—which is the primary and privileged means of participation in that same mystery—demands regulation by law. The sacraments are the preeminent outward and visible signs of the inward and spiritual graces of God. Their external elements—directed and safeguarded by liturgical and sacramental laws—are therefore intrinsic to their underlying reality—and all meant for the greater glory of God.
By Father James Bradley
The mystical body of Jesus Christ, the Church, is “constituted and organized in the world as a society” (Lumen Gentium (LG), 8). As such, the Church’s visible institutions are derived from and oriented toward the manifestation of her invisible realities. Among these institutions is law. In an essential and fundamental way, law in the Church governs the relationship between the visible and invisible, seeking to ensure that the social actions of the faithful among themselves and towards God and the Church conform to the ultimate law of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This is, in a sense, an outworking of the whole mystery of Christ; the revelation in tangible forms of the hidden life of the Triune God.
In a particular way, then, the sacramental-liturgical life of the Church—which is the primary and privileged means of participation in that same mystery— demands regulation by law. The sacraments are the preeminent outward and visible signs of the inward and spiritual graces of God. Their external elements are therefore not just signposts to what they are; they are intrinsic to their underlying reality.
Sacramental Law
Still more, the sacraments are efficacious signs of grace, instituted by Christ the Lord and given to the Church. The Church alone, therefore, in accordance with her divine mandate, has the innate right and duty to ensure that the external signs employed in sacramental-liturgical acts conform to the gifts of grace they signify. This is achieved by the establishment and application of laws to govern this relationship. Laws are used in this way first to regulate what is necessary for the validity of a sacramental-liturgical act. For instance, laws determine not only that bread and wine are required for the valid celebration of the Eucharistic offering, but also establish what is and is not bread and wine in the first place. For instance, the law establishes that the bread used at Mass must
conform to certain requirements about wheat content, and that the wine must conform to certain requirements about its fruit and alcohol content. Non-observance of such laws leads to an invalid act, which thus lacks the sacramental reality.
Other laws govern what is necessary for a sacramental-liturgical act to take place according to the mind of the Church, that is, according to her general discipline. Of course, all laws state to some degree what is or what is not lawful, but some laws specify that if a given element is present or absent from an act then the seriousness of this infraction makes the act especially unlawful. If an illicit act is particularly egregious, it may even be accompanied by penal sanctions. For example, a priest is absolutely forbidden from consecrating bread or wine outside the Eucharistic celebration.1 If he does so for a sacrilegious purpose, the act is still valid according to the principle of ex opere operato, but it is gravely illicit. In fact it is a delict or canonical crime and is to be punished as such.2 These kinds of laws are generally referred to as
“There should be a more profound reflection on the concept of the ars celebrandi, and thus on the relationship between norms and the actual liturgical celebration.”
sacramental laws. They govern the discipline of the sacraments; their confection and administration. They ensure that the sacraments are in fact the result of a given act (confection), and that they are duly given to those who have a right to receive them, at a proper time and in a proper way, by ministers properly appointed by the Church to carry this out (administration).
Liturgical Law
In the division of the Church’s legal discipline we also
speak of liturgical law. This is generally considered the regulation not of sacramental discipline per se—what is necessary for validity and the fundamental lawfulness of an act—but of the rites and ceremonies in which context the confection and administration of the sacraments occurs. Liturgical laws are true laws emanating from the competent ecclesiastical authority. To this end they state what is to be done or to be omitted in a liturgical act. They thus provide what is required by the Church for the lawfulness of a liturgical act, but do not generally relate to the validity of an act, nor to serious disciplinary matters regarding the confection and administration of the sacraments or sacramentals.
This distinction between sacramental law (rules for validity and serious liceity) and liturgical law (rules for rites and ceremonies) is what we generally find in canonical and liturgical literature, and it is how— broadly speaking—the laws on the sacraments and the liturgy have been framed for centuries. It is a generally useful way of distinguishing between two areas of the canonical legal discipline, which are incidentally also found represented in the current name of the Roman dicastery responsible for the liturgy: that of Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments.
This categorization should not, however, be considered absolute. It has in fact at times given rise to the suggestion that sacramental law, related as it is to validity and serious issues of liceity, is fundamentally more important than liturgical law, which is concerned “only” with “ephemeral” matters. This view can lead to a dangerously thin reading of the laws governing acts of divine worship. On the one hand, there are those who say as a result that all that really matters is what is required for validity and strict liceity—bread, wine, and a validly-ordained priest; the rest is up for grabs. On the other hand, there are those who read the law governing liturgical-sacramental acts (especially rubrics) in a way that stands apart from other considerations of justice, and so also from the way that all other laws are interpreted in the life of the Church.
“This distinction between sacramental law (rules for validity and serious liceity) and liturgical law (rules for rites and ceremonies) is what we generally find in canonical and liturgical literature.”
Law and Reform
A third way of approaching liturgical law emerges both from a renewed understanding of the liturgy— not least as a result of the Liturgical Movement and the conciliar formulations—and from a recovery of a proper reading of liturgical law grounded in the principles of interpretation common to the entire canonical legal system. This way is first of all rooted in the liturgical act as an instantiation of a higher reality. It understands the liturgical life of the Church to be just that: not some mere element of ecclesial existence, but the very lifeblood of the Church, “the fount and apex of the whole Christian life” (LG, 11) This approach also therefore guards against a kind of “reification” of the liturgy; turning “it” into just one more “thing” the Church does, rather than the fundamental basis of what the Church is. For, while Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC) makes it clear that the liturgy does not exhaust the entire action of the Church (SC, 9), it nevertheless insists (as echoed in LG, 11) that the liturgy is “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; at the same time it is the font from which all her power flows” (SC, 10).
This objective understanding of the liturgy, not as a thing but as the very life of God—the mystery of Christ, no less—means that our approach to the laws governing liturgical-sacramental acts must take account not just of the very necessary minimum that brings the sacraments about, but of what in justice is owed God (in the first place) and the people of God (in the second). If the liturgy is the means of the glo-
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rification of God and the sanctification and edification of the people (cf. Pius X, motu proprio Tra Le Sollecitudini, 1; cf. SC, 7), then every element of its preparation and celebration is of infinite value and worth. This also means that reliance on the principle of ex opere operato alone is insufficient for a given liturgical celebration to manifest all that the Church wishes to say and do in her worship, and thus falls short both of offering all that is due to God, and of presenting for the faithful the full panoply of riches afforded by the rite, which aids their full, active, and conscious participation (cf. Desiderio Desideravi, 45).
Two remedies present themselves to this reductionist approach, both offered as a kind of going beyond the liturgical norms. The first views the norms as a starting point from which “more” is required, and provided for in free creativity. The second, more authentic reading, sees the liturgical norms not as mere guidelines, but as the first point of accessing the richness of what the Church desires in her liturgical worship. This way leads to an understanding of the liturgy that conforms more fundamentally to the objective reality of the life of God—which is surely not revealed by arbitrary and subjective means!—but also to the broader principles of interpretation common to the entire canonical legal tradition. This approach, properly implemented, thus takes the technical, general norms of legal interpretation (e.g., Canon 17) and applies them specifically to the liturgical law. From this comes, quite naturally, a determination that the texts of the liturgical norms cannot be read in isolation, but only within the context of the worship of the Church as a whole, and thus in continuity with her entire tradition (cf. General Instruction of the Roman Missal, 42).
Discovery and Recovery
How, then, practically, do we resolve these tensions and recover a proper understanding of liturgical law? First, we must recommit ourselves to the essential place of canonical legal interpretation in liturgical studies and praxis. It is a not-altogether misleading caricature that in the past the principal instructors on matters liturgical were canonists who (perhaps by necessity) were established as the sole arbiters of liturgical norms or rubrics. The development of the study of the liturgy as something of a discipline of its own has in part resolved that excess by bringing to the conversation those versed in liturgical history and liturgical theology, among other related disciplines.
Yet this course correction, as is common to such significant shifts in understanding, has in some ways over-compensated to the point of excluding legal experts from the proper study and implementation of the liturgical rites. Seminaries now seem to teach future priests how to celebrate the sacraments from the principles of liturgical history, pastoral practice, and sacramental theology: all of which have their place. But in doing so they risk failing to equip adequately the ministers of the Church with the basic tools of interpreting law, including liturgical law, and so in fact unintentionally contribute to an ongoing tension between creativity on the one hand, and positivist rigorism on the other. For the sake of clarity: it is not my contention that canonists should return to being the sole interpreters of liturgical norms, which by their nature contain many other considerations of similar richness and value, but rather that they should—even must—become significant and determinative voices in the understanding of what are (in the essence) drafted, framed, and issued laws.
Secondly, there should be a more profound reflection on the concept of the ars celebrandi, and thus on the relationship between norms and the actual liturgical celebration. This term, ars celebrandi, has entered the Church’s vocabulary relatively recently and, although it has been readily welcomed, its application (and even its formal definition) still appears to lack sufficient clarity. Again, it has at times been taken as license for creativity (be it changes to the rite in the spirit of “pastoral necessity,” or the unregulated insertion of elements not found in the liturgical books), as well as a kind of positivist rigorism that excludes from the liturgical celebration any element that is not explicitly prescribed in the rubrics. Some helpful clarification has recently been made by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith in Gestis Verbisque (GV), which makes clear that: “It is increasingly urgent to develop an ars celebrandi that—keeping itself equally distant from a rigid rubricism, on the one hand, and
a limitless imagination, on the other hand—leads to a discipline we are to follow, precisely to be authentic disciples” (GV, 27). But more is to be done. Both extremes—characterized by Gestis Verbisque as rigidity and an unlimited imagination—are contrary to the true nature of the liturgy, which subsists not principally within or without the liturgical books, as vital as these are, but more essentially in the life of the Church. The antidote to any perceived antinomianism in the interpretation of liturgical law is therefore not positivism (or vice versa) but precisely the cultus of the Church, given and received to be lived out in every age.
Father James Bradley is a Priest of the Personal Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham and Assistant Professor of Canon Law at The Catholic University of America, Washington, DC. He read music, theology, and canon law at the universities of Bristol, Oxford, and London, and holds a doctorate in canon law from The Catholic University of America. Father Bradley’s research focuses on the Church’s liturgical law and sacramental discipline, and to this end he is completing a doctorate in Liturgical Studies and Sacramental Theology at the University of Vienna, where he is part of the international research project, Anglican Traditions in the Catholic Church. He has published articles in a number of canonical and liturgical journals including The Jurist, Studia Canonica, Forum Canonicum, Antiphon, and Ecclesia Orans
1. Canon 927: “It is absolutely forbidden, even in extreme urgent necessity, to consecrate one matter without the other or even both outside the eucharistic celebration.”
2. Canon 1382 §2: “An offender who consecrates for a sacrilegious purpose one or both elements, either in a eucharistic celebration or outside it, is to be punished according to the gravity of the delict, not excluding dismissal from the clerical state.”
The law establishes that the bread used at Mass must conform to certain requirements about wheat content, and that the wine must conform to certain requirements about its fruit and alcohol content. Non-observance of such laws leads to an invalid act, which thus lacks the sacramental reality.
Liturgical law is generally considered the regulation not of sacramental discipline per se—what is necessary for validity and the fundamental lawfulness of an act—but of the rites and ceremonies in which context the confection and administration of the sacraments occurs. Liturgical laws (such as rubrics, printed in red, above), are true laws emanating from the competent ecclesiastical authority. To this end they state what is to be done or to be omitted in a liturgical act. They thus provide what is required by the Church for the lawfulness of a liturgical act, but do not generally relate to the validity of an act.
Continued from CHANGES, page 5
Easter season, when all knew they were required to go to Holy Communion at least once a year.
Pater Noster Our Father
One Sunday near the end of my fourth-grade year, I decided to teach myself to say the Pater Noster during Mass. Our parish celebrated the Ordo Missæ of the Dialogue Mass, where the congregation prayed the entire Our Father aloud in Latin—instead of the older form where they spoke aloud only the final phrase: “sed libera nos a malo.” Even though I did not know exactly what I was saying, I knew it was the Our Father. Every Sunday I chipped away at it, memorizing one new phrase every few weeks. In the fall of my sixth-grade year, I was finally able to stay afloat through the entire prayer. Unfortunately, I made it through the entire Pater Noster only once, for on the Sunday following this personal triumph, Mass was said in English.
I remember having sharply divided feelings about this. One day a year earlier in my fifth-grade class, my teacher, a Sister of Loretto, announced with an exuberant smile that her prayers had been answered! Mass would soon be said in English because the Holy Father John XXIII had “opened a window in the Church to let the Holy Spirit in” by calling an “Ecumenical Council”—whatever that was. Naturally, I absorbed her enthusiasm, but I later came to mourn the passing of my personal milestone, my Pater Noster, which became a useless relic of the past—literally overnight.
My parents took no joy in the changes; they were bewildered and dismayed at having their “Church taken away from them.” My religious education in school from sixth to eighth grades was a careful indoctrination about “the changes,” all the whys and hows, covering those stormy years of transition, when there was a “commentator” as well as a lector with a separate pulpit in the sanctuary during Mass. The commentator’s job was to explain the new rite as it was happening, and why, as well as to remind the congregation about what they were supposed to do at each particular moment (stand, sit, kneel, etc.). I lectured my parents that Mass was not just a private “hearing” of the Sacrifice shrouded in sacred ritual, away from the eyes of the congregation, but, rather, “community,” the coming together of the Body of Christ to share in the table of his Banquet. My mother would just sigh and say, “They’ve taken all the beauty and mystery out of the Mass.” My dad would chuckle sarcastically and mumble, “We’re holy rollers now.”
Good, Bad, and Ugh!
Watching the Mass with the priest facing us was like having grandma’s treasure chest open in front of us, where we could delve into all its delicious secrets. I was happy that the Mass now belonged to us, not just the priest; now we could hear and understand the holy words of the Consecration even as he spoke them, seeing the bread and wine as the miracle of transubstantiation took place before our eyes. It was like taking a tour of the Holy of Holies in the Temple. Wow.
But other aspects of the changes did not seem to make sense. Why did we stop saying the Last Gospel, which I had always loved, at the end of Mass? And the prayer to St. Michael? Does this mean that the devil has now been thrust into hell and we don’t need to say that prayer anymore? What other reason could there be? If the adults were bewildered, just imagine how confusing it was for a child!
My eighth-grade teacher, Sister John Paul, a Notre Dame Sister, insisted that our class read the four major documents of Vatican II. Good move, Sister. Had the Church changed any truths of the Faith? No way. Had the Church abandoned her ancient rituals? Look again. Sister reassured our troubled, busy little minds. Nothing has been changed, only renewed: the substance of the truth remained, even if the forms were modified to answer “the needs of the modern world.” Indeed, Sister drummed it into us that the Church could not change its essential truths, nor was the Council even called for that purpose. It was an ecumenical Council, with the driving force of the Holy Spirit being to open up the Catholic Church to the world, to get rid of the ossified, stuffy air inside the Church by opening the stained-glass windows.
I would like to publicly thank Sister John Paul for this education, for when, 15 years later, I found myself at Georgetown University’s Dahlgren Chapel at Mass listening to an erudite Jesuit theologian’s
Sunday sermon on “why we no longer need to believe in transubstantiation,” I finally realized that the “Spirit of Vatican II” had become a rudderless ship blown perilously off-course. I did not reach this conclusion because of the sourdough “pass the Chalice” Masses I had attended seated on the floor of a dorm room in college; nor the extemporaneous diatribe of the “butterfly” priests of the seventies—who made up the prayers as they went along; nor the slide shows, liturgical dances, and sermon-dramas; nor the gradual denuding of our Catholic culture in song, statuary, ritual, and symbol. I had convinced myself that, even though those experimental forms were personally distasteful to me, they were just that: form, not substance. However, in the exact moment of that Jesuit professor’s sermon, I realized that form had overtaken substance, that the “reformers” were actually “revolutionaries” bent on changing not just how we believe, but what we believe. I saw finally that forms can inform substance, color it, define it, preserve it—and even pervert it. Maybe my parents were not as intractable as I had thought. Rightly, one should not be hidebound to forms for their own sake—but neither can one abandon forms as guardians of substance.
In spite of all the permutations of the last 60 years, Vatican II did open up the stained-glass windows—but without intending to remove them! Being Catholic is not an exclusive club or tribe; it is the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church of Christ himself intended for the whole world until the end of time.
pleasing each other.
“One Sunday near the end of my fourth-grade year,” reflects author Carol Anne Jones, “I decided to teach myself to say the Pater Noster during Mass. Unfortunately, I made it through the entire Pater Noster only once [at Mass], for on the Sunday following this personal triumph, Mass was said in English…. I came to mourn the passing of my personal milestone, my Pater Noster, which became a useless relic of the past—literally overnight.”
Slips, Slaps, and Slop…
Then came the years of range war. The liberals were encamped round the table of the Word, bowing to the altar even as they wheeled the tabernacle into another room. Beleaguered orthodox Catholics, coming in from the cold one by one, were trying to reclaim the Church one word, one song, one Rosary at a time. The pastor said that singing Latin in church was “seditious” and that Marian devotions were “not liturgical” (read, the kiss of death). Jesuit retreat leaders lectured that “if Jesus had cared about crumbs, he would have come as a jellybean.” Angry letters complaining about lectors who took it upon themselves to make the words of the Epistles “more inclusive” were met with silent disdain. Requests for Benediction were openly laughed at. Exquisite statuary and altar vessels were discarded or displayed in church lobbies, as sanctuaries were made more “simple” and churches became “worship spaces.” The faithful, who were supposed to be “more active” in their participation of Church rituals, evidently could only do so in rituals that fit the liberal mold. But where was the substance of the Faith in all this?
“New ways of interpreting” the theology of the Mass seemed to mean taking emphasis away from adoring God and humbling ourselves before him. We were told to “make church”—that the Body of Christ was not “just” the Real Presence in the Sacred Elements, but the kinship of the worshiping community when all partake of the one meal. Then the priest, whose hands are consecrated during Holy Orders to confect the Blessed Sacrament at Mass, became not so much the intermediary between God and mankind in the “unbloody Sacrifice of the Altar” as the “presider” of a ritual meal of “remembering,” in which all those present were celebrants! The goal of the liberal theology seemed less about pleasing God than
Then the landscape changed again. Orthodoxy experienced an explosive resurgence in some quarters, with many kinds of initiatives: some argued that Mass should be reinstated to its Tridentine form—only then could we be “sure.” Some were happy with the Novus Ordo Mass in Latin—at least there were no ICEL “dynamic equivalent” translations to water down or blur the language of the Roman Missal. Others fought for reforms on many fronts: retranslating the Mass into literal English, returning the Tabernacle to the main altar, reinstating altar rails, relearning Gregorian chant, and on and on.
For my part, I have been haunted since the age of 12 by the knowledge that, as a member of the last group of Catholics who really remember the preVatican II church, when those of my generation (who are still Catholic) are gone, the living memory of those ancient rituals will die with us. But this sadness was not caused by the Second Vatican Council, but by the misplaced zeal of those who tried, through systematic indoctrination and intimidation, to stamp out and suppress whatever they and their agenda rejected as “not in the spirit of Vatican II,” thereby robbing generations of Catholics of their rightful cultural, liturgical, devotional, and spiritual heritage—even though these traditions were specifically mandated to be preserved by the Council itself.
Add to this the new aesthetic of the “simple,” which was apparently extrapolated from §34 of Sacrosanctum Concilium: “The rites should be distinguished by a noble simplicity,” a phrase used to strip sanctuaries and gut the collective treasury of sacred symbols and images, along with Environment and Art in Catholic Worship (1978), prepared by the Bishops’ Committee on Liturgy but never approved by vote of the American bishops. Anyone who has been to St. Peter’s in Rome can see that more than one crucifix does not lessen the value of the symbol. Multiplicity of images done properly can have the same effect as beautiful polyphony, echoing and reechoing the glories of God.
No longer was it just a matter of confusion in the Church, but of open conflict. Call to Action, a group of Catholic dissenters who questioned the faith and morals of the Church, had their conservative brothers and sisters arrested, tried, and fined for protesting that such meetings should not take place in Catholic church facilities—so much for Christ’s admonition to “come to terms” with your brethren “on the way to court” (Matthew 5:25; 1 Corinthians 6:1-7). On another front, a group of dissenting Catholics chose to stand every Sunday at Mass to protest the all-male priesthood, disrupting the rituals and prayers of those around them, shamelessly drawing attention to themselves and away from the Real Presence of Jesus on the altar. It seemed that practically every aspect of the moral and liturgical life of the Catholic Church was in flux, in disarray, or at least called in question.
Conversion, Renewal, Resplendence…
Was there a miracle in all this confusion? What was the reason for the Second Ecumenical Council? Quietly, in spite of all those tempests, the Holy Spirit was at work.
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The Roman Canon: The Homestead of the Family of God
By Father Jerry Pokorsky
Old Testament priests ceremonially place their hands on the animals to be sacrificed. St. Thomas the Apostle witnesses to the Divinity of the risen Christ by exclaiming, “My Lord and my God!” The early Christian martyr St. Lawrence is roasted alive on a gridiron. The Manichean heresy threatens Catholic orthodoxy. The Ostrogoths overrun Italy. The Protestant Reformers deny that the Mass is a true sacrifice. What do these apparently unconnected historical events have in common? Every time a priest prays the Roman Canon of the Mass, the prayer of the Church directs attention to these and many other events that helped shape the Church as we know it.
The supreme act of worship is the Sacrifice of the Mass, and the Roman Canon (or Eucharistic Prayer I) forms the heart of the Mass. The word “canon” comes from a Greek word and means a rule, measure, or standard. So, the Canon of the Mass is the standard of thanksgiving and blessing in the celebration of the Mass. The Canon is made up of the words of Our Lord, of the tradition of the Apostles, and the legislated prayers of the Church over the centuries.
General Development
The general historical development of the Roman Canon is not easy to document. Scholars continue to propose different theories on the origins of the Roman Canon. But we need not be excessively burdened with the details of scholarly analysis for purposes of this article. We will limit our observations to an outline of the general structure of the Roman Canon with a few comments on how the Canon probably evolved. Like the canon of sacred Scripture, the form and content of the Roman Canon presents us with many layers of meaning that can be explored only by study and prayer.
The Canon of the Mass began to take shape in the early centuries of the Church. From the beginning, Our Lord’s words of institution (found in the synoptic Gospels and St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians) were central to the Canon. By the fourth century, a certain fixed pattern of prayers could be discerned to surround, almost as concentric circles, the words of Consecration. The patterns included prayers of praise, thanksgiving, blessing, and intercession.
The fourth century, the age of Constantine and the conversion of the Roman Empire, saw the translation of the Roman Rite into the vernacular. Of course, Latin was the vernacular language of the Roman empire. But the vocabulary chosen for use in the translation from the Canon’s Greek carefully avoided common Latin. A Roman citizen listening to the Canon in Latin would be struck by its elevated vocabulary with a distinctly sacred character.
Although significant adjustments were approved in subsequent centuries, including changes approved by the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council, the present form of the Canon in substance dates from the seventh century (however, there were and continue to be variations within the body of the Canon). Since the seventh century, the Roman Canon was the dominant— almost exclusive—Eucharistic prayer in use for the Roman Rite. In the 16th century, Pope St. Pius V made it universal with the exception of rites that could show a 200-year history (Milan, the Dominicans, Lyons, and some others). Hence, the Roman Canon represents, par excellence, an ancient tradition of organic liturgical growth.
The traditional body of the Roman Canon begins after
Continued from CHANGES, page 8
When I was a child, I remember witnessing just once the initiation of an adult into the Catholic Church. Then it seemed odd; being Catholic then was more like being Jewish—you usually came to it from the cradle or by marriage. However, many of the faithful today are new to the Faith. Many of the most ardent Catholic converts have found their way to the Church despite all the obstacles, setbacks, and confusion placed in their paths. Some of the brightest minds today in Catholic Scripture study and theology began as Protestant ministers. Now they are among us, strengthening and restoring us with their enthusiasm and expertise.
The Master gave a banquet, but the invited guests declined to come. So he invited anybody who came
The third intercession before the Consecration, “In communion with” (Communicantes), establishes our link to the Church triumphant: the saints and the apostles. The present generation fades into the background as we remember the faith of our fathers. The name of the Blessed Virgin is invoked first to express her dignity as the greatest of the saints. After her name, Pope John XXIII inserted the name of her spouse, St. Joseph. A total of 24 saints are listed, beginning with Peter.
the preface of the Eucharistic prayer and the intervening Sanctus (“Holy, holy, holy Lord”). It concludes with the great “Amen” following the Per ipsum (“Through him, with him, in him”). Still, the preface and the Sanctus are integral to the Canon. The preface is not just a narrative preamble to the Canon. It is part of the action of the Mass. Recounting the mighty deeds of God, the prayer identifies the special motives of thanksgiving (the meaning of eucharistia) according to the liturgical feast or season. The Sanctus expresses the joy of the angels who beckon the Church to enter into the “cosmic liturgy” of the Mass. The Sanctus signals that the Church militant is about to join the Church triumphant as well as the Church suffering in worship of the Father: “heaven and earth are full of your glory.”
After the Sanctus, the body of the Roman Canon may be considered in three sections: (1) the five petitions or intercessions before the Consecration; (2) the Consecration, and (3) the five intercessions after the Consecration with a final prayer. The Canon is recited alone by the priest, signifying his unique position among the people in the exercise of his priestly office. In this regard he is like the high priest of the Old Testament who once a year entered the Holy of Holies with the blood of the sacrificial animal (Hebrews 9:7). In due course, the priest would recite the Canon (after the Sanctus) in a low voice while the people engaged in silent prayer. This further dramatized the sacrificial character of the Mass because the silence highlighted the unique role of the ministerial priest. This was the standard practice until the Second Vatican Council. Reforms subsequent to the Council introduced the vernacular translation of the Roman Canon along with several other Eucharistic prayers. The translations were intended to be heard by the congregation and are now usually read aloud by the priest.
Prayers before Consecration
The five prayers or “intercessions” that precede the Consecration are as follows: (1) “To you, therefore, most merciful Father” (the Te igitur); (2) “Remember, Lord,
down the road, and, to round things out, the poor and sick whom no one else wanted. He sent his servants out looking for them. Why would the Holy Spirit not seek out the forgotten and confused and make it as easy as possible to bring them to the Feast of the Holy Sacrifice of Love? In spite of all the permutations of the last 60 years, Vatican II did open up the stainedglass windows—but without intending to remove them! Being Catholic is not an exclusive club or tribe; it is the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church of Christ himself intended for the whole world until the end of time. I just wish that the generations who followed my generation could have known the rock-hard solidity of the Church that I knew as a child.
your servants” (the Memento); (3) “In communion with” (the Communicantes); (4) ‘‘Therefore, Lord, we pray” (the Hanc igitur); and (5) “Be pleased, O God, we pray” (the Quam oblationem). In the first prayer, an intercession is made that the gifts may be accepted and blessed so that they may bring blessings on the whole Church; the second prayer petitions for blessings upon the congregation and specific members of the faithful; the third requests the assistance of the saints in effecting the first two intercessions; the fourth intercession specifies the ultimate purpose of the offering, that is, eternal salvation; and the fifth invokes the final blessing on the gifts as a sacrificial offering immediately before the Consecration.
In the first prayer, “To you, therefore, most merciful Father,” we pray for the whole Church, the heads of the Church, and promoters of the faith in general. The Canon begins by directing our attention above our individual needs. By keeping the whole Church in mind, we can effectively give glory to God. Our personal sanctification depends upon our participation in the life of the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ.
The second prayer, “Remember, Lord, your servants,” commemorates the living, the “Church militant.” The priest prays for himself, for all those present, and for all those he calls to mind during a slight pause during the prayer. The phrase “or they offer it for themselves” reminds the faithful of the material offerings (such as their offertory contributions and Mass stipends) and, more importantly, the spiritual offerings (such as their sorrows, their temptations, their joys, and their very lives) they bring to the Mass to be offered in union with the sacrifice of Christ.
The third prayer heightens the action. The intercession, “In communion with,” establishes our link to the Church triumphant: the saints and the apostles. The present generation fades into the background as we remember the faith of our fathers. The name of the Blessed Virgin is invoked first to express her dignity as the greatest of the saints. After her name, Pope John XXIII inserted the name of her spouse, St. Joseph.
In the fifth and sixth centuries, the Church inserted the names of the martyrs most honored at the time. Numbered among them are the three martyred popes who immediately succeeded St. Peter and the deacon Lawrence. Five laymen are also listed, including the physicians Cosmas and Damian, the patron saints of dentists, doctors, and barbers. The Apostles mentioned are those chosen personally by the Lord to continue his work. (Hence, St. Matthias, chosen after the Ascension to replace Judas, appears in the listing of saints after the Consecration.) A total of 24 saints are listed, beginning with Peter. The number echoes the Book of Revelation and represents a fusion of the Old Testament (12 patriarchs) with the New Testament (12 Apostles). Certain high solemnities (e.g., Epiphany, Pentecost) have their own proper form of the “In communion with” text. The listing reminds the faithful to consider the living reality and presence of favorite saints (and all the saints) in the celebration of the celestial liturgy. St. Lawrence, for example, was one of the most venerated martyrs of the early Roman Church. They fondly recalled that when the Roman prefect demanded he surrender to him the “treasures of the Church,” St. Lawrence presented an assembly of the poor supported by the Church. When the astonished prefect protested, St. Lawrence insisted that these were “treasures of the Church.” For insulting the worldly sensibilities of the authorities, Lawrence
Carol Anne Jones served as Director of Religious Education for 10 years in three parishes in the Diocese of Arlington, VA, after a career in publishing for magazines and books. She has authored a series of religious education enrichment books entitled Heroes of Grace on Saints, Virtues, Feasts, and Devotions, as well as Catholic summer programs entitled The Week of Graces. Her articles have appeared in Catholic Faith, St. Austin Review, Crisis, Sacred Architecture, Celebrate Life, Voices, and Arlington Catholic Herald. She holds a Masters Degree in Medieval and Renaissance English Literature from the University of Virginia, with graduate coursework in theology at Christendom College.
AB/Lawrence OP on Flickr
was roasted to death on a gridiron. Having suffered a long time, he turned to his tormentors and said, “Let my body be turned; one side is broiled enough.” Hence, St. Lawrence is venerated as the patron of the poor—and cooks!
After the pause to invoke the saints, the fourth prayer before the Consecration, “Therefore, Lord, we pray,” connects with the first and second prayers of the Canon. This intercession begs God to accept the offerings of the faithful in order that we might be delivered from eternal damnation and numbered among the saints in glory. But since the seventh century, we also pray for peace on earth. At that time, Italy was overrun by the hostile armies of the Ostrogoths. Pope St. Gregory the Great added the entreaty “order our days in your peace” in response to the crisis. There is also a special version of this prayer for use during the Easter Octave.
The fifth and final intercession before the Consecration is the “Be pleased, O God, we pray.” By this prayer, the priest prays that God may bless the offering of bread and wine so that it may become the body and blood of Jesus Christ. The priest extends his hands over the gifts of bread and wine similar to the priest of the Old Covenant who imposed hands on the victim that was offered up to God in sacrifice. The Jews intended by this action to transfer symbolically the guilt of their own sins to the animal victim which was immolated. The gesture was added in response to the Protestant Reformers who denied the sacrificial character of the Mass. The gesture reminds us that Christ sacrifices himself as a Victim on the altar for all of mankind. The sacrifice is approved “in every respect” because it is unreservedly blessed; it is “acknowledged” because it is carried out according to the command of the Lord; and it is “spiritual,” unlike the irrational victims of the Old Law. Anticipating the Consecration, the sacrifice is therefore “acceptable.”
The Consecration
The words of the Consecration are particularly solemn because they make present upon the altar the sacrifice of Christ upon Calvary. They are taken from the words of Our Lord in instituting the Eucharist and from apostolic tradition. The person of the priest withdraws. The priest speaks in the first person indicating that he acts in the person of Christ as Head of the Mystical Body. Christ himself, through the instrumentality of the priest, utters the words, “This is my Body.” It is Christ, the invisible High Priest, who offers himself up in sacrifice by the hands and by the lips of the visible priest.
The phrase “The mystery of faith” was inserted into the consecration narrative of the wine as early as the sixth or seventh centuries. Over the centuries, this phrase was proclaimed by the deacon during the consecration of the wine because the deacon’s liturgical task has traditionally been custody of the chalice. But following the Second Vatican Council, the phrase was placed after the consecration of the wine, inviting the faithful to respond with “We proclaim your Death, O Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again” (or two similar formulas).
The Sanctus bell, introduced in the 13th century, is rung during the elevation of the host and chalice as a signal to the faithful that the consecration has taken place and to invite their participation and adoration during the elevation. The priest genuflects in adoration after the consecration of the bread and again after the consecration of the wine. These gestures are the Church’s answer to a theological opinion in the 12th century which erroneously held that the host was not consecrated until after the wine had been consecrated. In the 20th century, Pope St. Pius X encouraged the faithful to gaze upon the host and chalice and silently call to mind the words of St. Thomas the Apostle, “My Lord and my God!” in witness to the divinity of Christ.
Prayers after Consecration
The five intercessions that follow the Consecration are as follows: (1) “Therefore, O Lord, as we celebrate the memorial” (the Anamnesis); (2) “Be pleased to look upon these offerings” (the Supra quae); (3) “In humble prayer” (the Supplices); (4) “Remember also, Lord, your servants” (the Memento of the dead); and, (5) “To us, also, your servants, who, though sinners” (the Nobis quoque peccatoribus).
The first three intercessions are sacrificial prayers. They are similar to and balance the last two intercessions that precede the Consecration. These two sets of prayers on both sides of the Consecration are prayers of oblation or offering. But before the Consecration, the prayers
refer to the material offerings of bread and wine at the same time anticipating the coming Consecration; after the Consecration, the oblation prayers refer to the Body and Blood of Christ.
Specifically, the first prayer after the Consecration is called Anamnesis (literally, “remembrance”). It commemorates the passion, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Lord in obedience to his command, “Do this in memory of me.” The Church offers to the heavenly Father the body and blood of Christ himself. The phrase, “we your servants,” refers to the priests (celebrant and concelebrants) while “your holy people” refers to the priesthood of the faithful who also make the offering.
The second prayer after the Consecration petitions God the Father to look upon the sacrifice “with a serene and kindly countenance.” Of course, the sacrifice of Christ is absolutely pleasing to the Father. But to the extent that the sacrifice is that of the Church, it is pleasing to God according to the degree of holiness the faithful possess. The sacrifices of Abel, Abraham, and
standard of thanksgiving and blessing in the celebration of the Mass. Like the canon of sacred Scripture, the form and content of the Roman Canon presents us with many layers of meaning that can be explored only by study and prayer.
Melchizedek are specifically mentioned in scripture as being accepted by God. So, the Church looks to the example of these great Old Testament personages as examples of the dispositions the faithful ought to possess. Interestingly, Pope Leo I added the words “a holy sacrifice, a spotless victim” by way of refuting the Manichean heresy which denied the goodness of material creation. The Manicheans maintained that the use of wine in the Eucharist was sinful!
The third prayer requests the assistance of an angel in delivering the sacrifice to the heavenly Father and descending, in return, with God’s rich blessings and grace. The priest bows down before God and his altar in adoration. Rising, he then makes the sign of the Cross to show that the priest, and the faithful in his name, have received the Father’s blessings through the sacrifice of the Cross. The angel invoked in this prayer is suggested by the Book of Revelation: “And another angel came and stood at the altar with a golden censer; and he was given much incense to mingle with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar before the throne; and the smoke of the incense rose with the prayers of the saints from the hand of the angel before God” (Revelation 8:3-4).
The second half of this prayer anticipates the reception of Holy Communion: “that all of us, who through this participation at the altar receive the most holy Body and Blood of your Son.” Shortly before the Second Vatican Council, Pope Pius XII, in his encyclical Mediator Dei, encouraged priests to distribute to the people Communion hosts which have been consecrated at the Mass that is being celebrated. Current liturgical legislation strongly urges this practice as well. It more clearly establishes the inner unity of the Mass as a sacrifice that brings “every grace and heavenly blessing” upon the participants of the sacred liturgy.
The fourth prayer petitions God to remember those who have died as Christians. Before the Consecration, the Church militant was remembered and the Church triumphant was invoked. Now the priest calls to mind the Church suffering as he pauses for a few moments. It is appropriate for the faithful to join the priest in remembering the names of deceased friends and relatives, including the intention of the day.
The Church has always encouraged the faithful to pray for the dead and to take consolation in the prayers offered for the dead. In the early Church, St. Cyril of Jerusalem wrote: “We remember also those who have fallen asleep, because these prayers, offered when the
most holy sacrifice lies before us on the altar, will be of the greatest benefit to those for whom we pray.” St. Augustine comments that even those who have neither parents, nor children, nor friends, nor relations left to pray for them when they are dead, can count at least on the prayers of Mother Church.
The fifth prayer recognizes the faithful as sinners who beg to be numbered among the saints. The listing of saints echoes the listing recited before the Consecration. But this time, the saints are drawn from all states of life. The saints listed include a prophet (John the Baptist), a deacon (Stephen), an apostle (Matthias), bishops (Barnabas and Ignatius), a pope (Alexander), a priest (Marcellinus), an exorcist (Peter), married women (Felicity and Perpetua), virgins (Agatha, Lucy, and Cecilia), and a widow (Anastasia). Regardless of vocation, with God’s grace, we are encouraged to fight the enemies of salvation as the saints have done.
The closing prayer of the Canon begins with ‘‘Through whom you continue to make all these good things,” and concludes with the doxology “Through him, and with him, and in him.” The prayer acknowledges that even irrational creation is presented to the Father through the cross of Christ. All gifts that we dare to offer come to us through and in Christ. But the highest possible honor and glory given to God is the sacrifice of Christ himself.
The Canon concludes with the faithful breaking their long silence to express their assent: an “Amen” is recited or sung in response as the Communion rite is anticipated. Like “Alleluia” and “Hosanna,” the Hebrew word “Amen” is one of the few words used in the Mass that is common to most language groups. It means “So be it” and thus constitutes a sublime act of faith in the sacrifice that has been accomplished. The “Amen,” sung communally, prepares the faithful for the same act of faith in the real presence at Communion time.
Like an old homestead that has been modified over the years to meet the needs of a growing family, the Roman Canon represents the glorious history of the family of God, the Church. Its earnest intercessions and profound gestures, often added in response to the demands of historical circumstances, have endured the test of time. Nothing else in Catholic prayer is comparable to it in the honor and glory it gives to God and in the blessings it confers on mankind. The Roman Canon is a living family heirloom of sanctification and Christian hope.
Father Jerry Pokorsky is a priest of the Diocese of Arlington, VA, who has also served as a financial administrator in the Diocese of Lincoln, NE. Trained in business and accounting, he also holds a Master of Divinity and a Master’s in moral theology. Father Pokorsky cofounded both CREDO and Adoremus, two organizations deeply engaged in authentic liturgical renewal. He writes regularly for a number of Catholic websites and magazines. Father Pokorsky also serves as a director and treasurer of Human Life International.
MEMORIAL FOR
My deceased parents who taught me the Catholic faith and provided a Catholic education from Kevin Field
Mother Mary Elise Krantz, S.N.D. from Rose Tondra IN THANKSGIVING Robert Cardinal Sarah from Mr. and Mrs. Matthew McGinnis
The word “canon” comes from a Greek word and means a rule, measure, or standard. So, the Canon of the Mass is the
AB/WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
Can the Eucharistic Prayer for Various Needs and Occasions be used on Sundays?
A: The original Eucharistic Prayer for Masses for Various Needs and Occasions is a Eucharistic prayer that was first composed for a Swiss Synod in the 1970s. It was admitted into the Mass by Pope Paul VI and subsequently approved for use in various national bishop’s conferences. It is a single prayer with four thematically arranged prefaces, each of which is integrally connected with variations in the intercessions of the Eucharistic prayer. In each of the four variations of this single prayer these special intercessions are related to a specific need being lifted up in prayer, which are variously apropos for the numerous Mass formularies given in the section of the Roman Missal, Masses for Various Needs and Occasions. It is for these Masses for Various Needs and Occasions that this Eucharistic Prayer for Masses for Various Needs and Occasions is intended. Therefore, it may be used when the Masses for Various Needs and Occasions may be used.
Since the Church celebrates the Liturgical Year in order to unfold the “whole mystery of Christ” (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 102), the General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM) prescribes that the Masses for Various Needs and Occasions should “be used in moderation, that is, when truly required” (GIRM, 369). This limitation is prescribed in order not to obscure the Temporal Cycle of the liturgical year wherein the mystery of Christ permeates the days, weeks, and months of Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, and Ordinary Time, in order to show forth the multifaceted marvels of the Mysteries of Salvation. Among the Masses outside the well-worn pages of the Temporal and Sanctoral cycles are the Masses for Various Needs and Occasions—as distinct from “Ritual Masses…and Votive Masses” (GIRM, 371). Through these numerous “formularies and orations…the various occasions of Christian life” are brought to the Father so that “every event in life [may be] sanctified by the divine grace that flows from the Paschal Mystery” (GIRM, 368).
The GIRM lays out the norms governing the offering of these Masses in numbers 368–378. While they should be used in moderation, they can be used on any weekday in Ordinary Time, even when an Optional Memorial occurs (see GIRM, 377). On “days when there occurs an Obligatory Memorial or on a weekday of Advent up to and including December 16, of Christmas Time from January 2, and of Easter Time after the Octave of Easter,” such Masses are “in principle forbidden” (GIRM, 376). However, if “some real necessity or pastoral advantage calls for it” the pastor or priest celebrant can offer such a Mass with the people. And, in “any case of a graver need or of pastoral advantage,” it is possible to celebrate one of the Masses for Various Needs and Occasions “at the direction of the Diocesan Bishop or with his permission…on any day except Solemnities, the Sundays of Advent, Lent, and Easter, days within the Octave of Easter, the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (All Souls’ Day), Ash Wednesday, and the days of Holy Week” (GIRM, 374).
Q:Can an unbaptized baby or a baby who has died in utero receive funeral rites?
A: The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that as “regards children [infantes] who have died without Baptism, the Church can only entrust them to the mercy of God, as she does in her funeral rites for them” (1261). Prior to the liturgical reforms of 1970s “there was no Christian funeral rite for unbaptized infants and such infants were buried in unconsecrated ground” (International Theological Commission, “The Hope of Salvation for Infants Who Die without Being Baptized,” 100). As the Catechism indicates, according to the Roman Missal, in the Masses for the Dead, there is a Mass formulary For the Funeral of a Child Who Died before Baptism. After this heading, the Roman Missal explains that if “a child whom the parents wished to be baptized, dies before Baptism, the Diocesan Bishop…may permit the funeral to be celebrated in the home of the deceased child, or even according to the form of funeral rites otherwise customarily used in the region.”
It is important to note here that this is a decision left to the diocesan bishop to determine, likely because of how such funerary rites are related to the necessity of Baptism for salvation and the danger of obscuring Baptism’s necessity in the eyes of the faithful (see Canon 1183 §2). Related to the sensitivity surrounding this pastoral reality, the preference for the funerary rites in this situation is “a Liturgy of the Word” rather than a Mass. However, the Missal gives a complete Mass formulary in situations when “the celebration of Mass is judged opportune.” Nevertheless, it notes that “proper care is to be taken that the doctrine of the necessity of Baptism is not obscured in the minds of the faithful.”
Questioning ADOREMUS
Editor’s note: The following question and reply appeared in Adoremus’s first issue, 30 years ago. The question was addressed to Jesuit Father Joseph Fessio, founder and publisher of Ignatius Press and one of the founders of Adoremus.
At the recent Catholic Family Conference in Long Beach, you spoke regarding Adoremus. Your talk raised some questions in my mind.
First, if the bishops in union with the Holy Father are responsible for the liturgy, why is it necessary, or even appropriate, for the laity to take the lead in the “authentic renewal of the reform of the liturgy?”
I am particularly perplexed since Cardinal Ratzinger is so supportive of these efforts. As prefect of perhaps the most prestigious and important curial Congregation, he presumably reflects the mind of the Pope. If so, why does Rome not take the lead here? If there is “reform” to be accomplished, should it not proceed from Rome? Is this a political movement that needs “grassroots” support? I do not understand.
Second, both your talk and the letter regarding Adoremus emphasize that you are not advocating, and in fact oppose, a return to the “preconciliar” Mass. Yet, my understanding is that the Council Fathers in Sacrosanctum Concilium did not intend to “revolutionize” that Mass in existence at the time of the Council. The preconciliar Mass organically developed from ancient times under the Church’s careful eye (changing little since Pope St. Pius V).
As I understand it, the Council Fathers, presaged by Pius XII’s Mediator Dei, intended to solemnize certain elements of the so-called “liturgical movement” expounded by Louis Bouyer, among others.... [Bouyer] does not speak of revolutionizing the Mass, of returning to so-called primitive rites, of wholesale removal of portions, complete eradication of Latin in favor of the vernacular, etc. Yet, this is what has happened.
(Indeed, it seems to me that the Council Fathers were more concerned with improving the faithful’s conscious, active participation in the liturgy and making some minor modifications—removing unnecessary accretions and restoring certain parts—rather than with radical revision of the Roman rite.)
If there is a need to rid the current liturgy of innovations instigated not by the Council Fathers but by liturgical “experts” run amok, then what better starting place than the preconciliar Mass? If the Holy Spirit intends the Church to “renew” that preconciliar Mass, is it not logical to return to that Mass and then renew it, but this time correctly? When the “living memory” of that centuries-old Mass has been systematically erased from an entire generation of Catholics, how can a true “reform” of it be accomplished without first re-instilling the current generation with the spirit of and love for that liturgy? Ever since I became aware that there was a “preconciliar” Mass, I have found it intriguing that there was a perceived need to suppress it in favor of the current liturgy.
Finally, you mentioned Gregorian Chant. I agree that it is very beautiful and certainly it is the mind of the Church that it be given “pride of place.” However, it was unnerving to hear you, an orthodox priest and theologian quite aware of the troubles in the Church, talk as though you had just discovered some marvelous new thing. After 18 years as a Catholic (I converted at age 18), it is no news to me that the Mass as celebrated in most parishes uses mundane ditties for music and that the liturgy as a whole reflects little of the solemnity and majesty of the Sacrifice, of the Paschal Mystery, taking place. It is no news to me that the “reforms” carried out in the last 30 years in the name of the Council bear little
resemblance to Sacrosanctum Concilium. And I must again ask my first question.
—Erich B. Riedel
San Diego, CA
Fr. Fessio Responds: This is an excellent question, though to answer it satisfactorily would require much more than the brief outline of an answer I give here.
1. Historically, reforming movements in the Church do not originate with the hierarchy. It is only the hierarchy which can approve and officially implement reforms, but they usually exercise an authoritative gift of discernment on what the Holy Spirit has aroused in the faithful. For example:
a. John (Love) outraces Peter (Authority) to the empty tomb (which the laity—the faithful women— had discovered first). But John waits for Peter to enter first, observe, and then make an “official” statement. (John, of course, is part of the “college of bishops” and so part of the original “hierarchy.” But he is a symbol for the “Church of Love” in relation to the “Church of Authority.”)
b. The great reforms of Benedict, Francis of Assisi, Dominic, and Ignatius Loyola began as “grassroots” renewal initiated by the laity or priests—and later approved by Church authority.
c. The great reforming Pope, St. Pius X (whose motto was “to restore all things in Christ”), called for a reform of sacred music. But he was essentially sanctioning a movement to re-vitalize Gregorian chant, begun by Dom Prosper Gueranger, the Abbot of Solesmnes, in 1835.
d. Pius XII in Mediator Dei and the Second Vatican Council in Sacrosanctum Concilium only initiated reform in the sense of giving official approval (after exercising the necessary discernment) to the results of the Liturgical Movement which had been active for at least a half a century.
2. Practically, we are not in a situation where a united Church is carrying out a reform mandated by an ecumenical council. There is division among the laity, among priests, among bishops, and even among members of the Roman curia about what constitutes the reform intended by Vatican II. There is enormous political pressure being exercised by a huge bureaucracy for further changes in the Mass and even for the institutionalization of continuous change. But Sacrosanctum Concilium decreed that “there must be no innovations unless the good of the Church genuinely and certainly requires them” (§23). It is therefore important for the faithful to make it clear to legitimate authority that they consider many proposed changes pastorally harmful, and that their desire is for a liturgy clearly in continuity with the Church’s Tradition.
3. According to the new Code of Canon Law, “The Christian faithful have the right to worship God according to the prescriptions of their own rite approved by the legitimate pastors of the Church” (c. 214). As more and more options are added for the “American Church,” as these options become de rigeur in many (if not most) parishes, as ICEL’s proposed translations depart more markedly from the Latin original of the Missale Romanum, a point is reached where the faithful have begun to ask whether their right to worship according to the universal Roman Rite is being violated. For the sake of the Church—and particularly for the Church of the future represented by their children—the laity have, I believe, an obligation to vindicate this right.
4. Perhaps I was not clear enough in my talk or in the letter I wrote on behalf of Adoremus’s Board of Advisors. Adoremus is convinced that the Council intended precisely what you have just described. The preconciliar Mass was not to be “revolutionized” but renewed, with the explicit requirement that any changes were to “grow organically from forms already existing” (ibid.). Therefore, we must go back and begin with the pre-conciliar Mass. But to seek that as a final goal would be to oppose the renewal legitimately mandated by the Council.
5. Mea culpa! I confess publicly that while I knew Sacrosanctum Concilium had reaffirmed the preeminence of Gregorian chant, I did not realize that the principle of “active participation by all the people” which the Council declared to be “the aim to be considered before all else” (SC § 14) had been equated by St. Pius X, Pius XI, and Pius XII with the congregational singing of the Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei in Gregorian chant. That was, for me, a discovery.
A Holistic Approach to Holiness
Liturgical Piety by Louis Bouyer. Providence, RI: Cluny Media, 2021. ISBN: 978-1685950118 338 pp. $24.95 Paperback.
By Father Daniel Cardó
We should be grateful to Cluny Media for publishing so many classic works of our Catholic intellectual tradition that otherwise would be difficult to find. This gratitude arises not only from the appreciation for what bright minds achieved long ago, but also from the benefit that hearing these voices can bring to our discernments today. Louis Bouyer’s Liturgical Piety is a good example of this.
Liturgical Piety was published in 1954, seven years after Pius XII issued the encyclical Mediator Dei, known as the magna carta of the Liturgical Movement. This context is noteworthy: Bouyer wrote this work during a period that could be described as the hinge between the Liturgical Movement and the beginning of the Second Vatican Council. Liturgical Piety is an example of mature liturgical scholarship that shows the possibility of what we could term “dynamic fidelity,” that is, the intellectual effort to be faithful to tradition and therefore, open to renewal. Bouyer, an influential theologian and historian, illustrates several aspects of the liturgical life of the Church in need of true reform in the mid-20th century, and he approaches these challenges avoiding the pursuit of irreflexive progressive change and of rigid attachment to particular historical forms.
Traditional Understanding
The key to this balanced approach is the right understanding of tradition. Boyer writes: “The Catholic tradition is not a thing of the past, fixed once for all in detailed written form, never to change or progress. Neither is it a changeable thing to be remodeled at will either by individuals or by an authority…. This tradition is, rather, a living pattern given once for all in its essentials by Christ and His Apostles. And this pattern has to be lived out through all the ages, not by individuals separately, but by a living community” (8384). As Pope Benedict XVI would later say, tradition is like a river: always the same water, and always moving.
The Liturgical Movement was “the natural response arising in the Church to the perception that many people have lost that knowledge and understanding of the liturgy which should belong to Christians, both clergy and laity” (44). This response motivated a twofold objective: the rediscovery and the renewal of the liturgy. For this, the paradigm of enduring value was to be found in the “Patristic embodiment of the Church’s tradition” (23), in which we encounter the richness of that period of primitive vitality and creativity. The Fathers are, precisely, our Fathers “because of their witness to the truth [that] can never be superseded or even rivalled in its primeval freshness and also in its organic wholeness and its living unity” (24).
However, Bouyer does not write a book about the Fathers or ancient liturgy in isolation but rather provides an all-inclusive view of the sacred liturgy, understood as “that system of prayers and rites traditionally canonized by the Church as her own prayer and worship” (1). Aware that many liturgical handbooks emphasized mainly or exclusively the official and external character of the liturgy, thus ignoring or rejecting both the desire to understand and to pray the liturgy, Bouyer proposes a view of the liturgy beyond that of sacred etiquette or court ceremonial for the King. For this, he embraces Mediator Dei’s definition of the holy liturgy as “the whole worship of the Mystical Body of Jesus Christ, that is, of the Head and its members” (20). At the core of Bouyer’s approach is the idea of mystery: “the re-enactment in, by and for the Church of the Act of our Lord which accomplished our salvation, that is, His Passion and Death in the fulness of their final effects—the Resurrection, the communication of saving grace to mankind and the final consummation of all things” (20).
Ancient Newness
Based on these principles, Liturgical Piety offers a comprehensive view of the sacred liturgy in 19 chapters, based on theological and historical reflection. With
a keen capacity to perceive what’s behind the historical manifestations of each era, Bouyer offers insightful reflections on the distortions of the Baroque and Romantic approaches to the liturgy. Perhaps one of the main contributions of Liturgical Piety for the 21st-century Church is the understanding of the need to go beyond the particular ritual expressions of each time toward the spirit of the liturgy, based on the following principle: “that we must not try to provide an artificial congregation to take part in an antiquarian liturgy, but rather to prepare the actual congregations of the Church today to take part in the truly traditional liturgy rightly understood” (16).
In what might surprise with uneasiness some believers interested in liturgical tradition, Bouyer criticizes certain aspects of the work of Dom Prosper Guéranger. While recognizing his unique contribution to liturgical renewal, the study of the Solesmes reform can be an instructive example of the risks involved in the project of liturgical reform, regardless of the undeniable good intentions and fruits. For instance, Guéranger emphasized a sentimental notion of the divine presence of Christ, which shifted the focus of the liturgy from “sacrificial action” to “the physical Presence of our Lord” (14). It is fair to say that this devotional preference for “presence” over “action” is found today in many liturgical expressions, in conferences, and the daily life of parishes, where we often see exposition and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament as “the height both of personal devotion and public ceremonial,” just as it happened in Solesmes (14).
Another aspect of the work of Dom Guéranger relevant for us today is this: for him, “to go back to the authentic liturgy meant to go back to medievalism” (17). We can also notice in many a traditional environment the idea of the so-called Middle Ages as the ideal Christian era. But “the fundamental error of the Middle Ages, when they are compared with Christian antiquity, would be… their turning from an objective kind of piety to a subjective one” (19). Ultimately, liturgical reform in any time must avoid the temptation “to try to remodel the external aspects of the Church of today according to the external aspects of that same period” (23), including the early Church. David Fagerberg has recently said about this: “Any reform of the liturgy does not have the aim of bringing us closer to the rubrical style of some given historical era, it has the purpose of bringing us closer to Christ” (Liturgical Mysticism, 83). Our efforts for liturgical reform in the 21st century have sometimes been entangled in the details of concrete aspects of historical practices. A priority for us today is to go deeper, to explore the truth behind those customs and discover the ever-fresh spirit of the unchangeable liturgy of the Church. Only this effort will give us the prudence to implement any renewal. For liturgy is traditional: always the same, always unfolding in time.
A related contribution of Liturgical Piety pertinent for today’s Church is the awareness of another risk: to allow varied spiritual currents or devotions to become more important than the liturgy as the source of spiritual life. Bouyer describes the cleavage between liturgical and popular piety unwittingly promoted in the Middle Ages by the well-intentioned efforts of Franciscans and Dominicans, “the Franciscans with drastic abbreviations, the Dominicans by systematically reducing [the liturgy] to a position of honorable but distinctly secondary importance in their life” (283). Today, many well-intentioned initiatives and charisms emphasize their own devotional practices and spiritual preferences, thus marginalizing the liturgical life of the Church, practically perceived as the obligatory rituals that must be kept, but not as the central source of spiritual life and apostolic strength. But, as the Second Vatican Council has taught, “the liturgy is the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; at the same time it is the font from which all her power flows” (Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC), 10). As such, the liturgy “is a sacred action surpassing all others; no other action of the Church can equal its efficacy by the same title and to the same degree” (SC, 7).
Voluminous Insights
Liturgical Piety offers several other valuable insights. Bouyer explains the sacrificial aspect of the Mass, in connection with the Jewish tradition, understood through the act of thanksgiving (a topic he will develop in his influential 1966 volume Eucharist: Theology and Spirituality of the Eucharistic Prayer). Thanksgiving is the action of the Word that, as in creation, communicates his divine love and invites the human heart to respond with the act of thanksgiving. Thus, “thanksgiving, in the Christian Eucharist, is not one element of four, but rather one which embraces the other three [i.e., praise, expiation, petition] and also the Mystery itself” (152). Indeed, “apart from the prayer of thanksgiving, the Eucharist disappears” (160). Bouyer reflects on the whole act of thanksgiving, relating its parts (preface, Sanctus, anaphora) and reaching an important conclusion: “The tendency, then, either to reduce the consecrative action merely to a central prayer considered apart from the whole single Eucharist, or to reduce this action to a few words of God in Christ, distinct from the prayer of thanksgiving, is simply a tendency to disintegrate the Christian Eucharist and to lose its deeper meaning” (160). Relatedly, Bouyer confronts the “problem” of the lack of an explicit pneumatological epiclesis in the Roman rite and proposes a solution (a solution good in embryo but in need of further development): there is no Eucharist except by means of the Word of God in Christ, who “achieves the perfect sacrifice and gives us the heavenly good for divine life” (161).
The tendency of focusing too much on the so-called “words of consecration” (i.e., the institution narrative) is perhaps related to another misconception of sacramental theology, namely, to see the sacraments “connected to one another so as to make a single and well-organized whole” (182), forgetting the fundamental truth expressed by St. Thomas Aquinas, that the Eucharist, by containing the Passion of Christ, is the source of the whole sacramental order. A narrow approach will see the sacraments “as seven parallel and absolutely similar channels through which the grace of God comes to us” (182). The difficulties are many. Can we really apply the Medieval scheme of matter and form (originally conceived for the Eucharist) equally to all sacraments? How can the seven sacraments be such an important aspect of the life of the Church if their definition only came after several centuries? The answer is the Eucharist: “until the end of the Middle Ages, they [i.e., the seven sacraments] had always been understood to be component parts of a single whole, centered in the Eucharist” (182). Attachment to schematic explanations of the sacraments or consecration, while usually correct in theory, can sometimes miss the depth of the truth contained in the mysteries.
Finally, the exploration of other aspects of the liturgy, such as the theological explanation of blessings in relation to the Eucharist, the reflection on the liturgical year based on the mystery unfolding in history, and the distinctions between the different commemorations and seasons in the year, are quite insightful and provide direction for practical liturgical action. The appendix is also to be appreciated, with its summary of liturgical scholarship up to the middle of the 20th century.
Valuable Voice
Anyone interested in liturgical renewal will benefit from reading this work. If today, 60 years after the Second Vatican Council, we continue to discuss the real meaning of its liturgical reform, we would do well to consult one of the protagonists of this important chapter in our history. Louis Bouyer was keenly aware of the need of liturgical renewal and was also critical of the ways in which it was implemented. His contribution to the authentic reform of the liturgy in our times has lost none of its importance. With the hindsight of recent debates and confusion regarding the liturgy, Liturgical Piety deserves a prominent place in the liturgical deliberations of today’s Church.
Father Daniel Cardó holds the Benedict XVI Chair of Liturgical Studies at St. John Vianney Seminary and is visiting professor at the Augustine Institute, both in Denver. He is also pastor at Holy Name Parish, Denver. He is the author of The Cross and the Eucharist in Early Christianity (Cambridge University Press, 2019), What Does It Mean to Believe? Faith in the Thought of Joseph Ratzinger (Emmaus Academic, 2020) and The Art of Preaching: A Theological and Practical Primer (Catholic University of America Press, 2021) and the coeditor of the Cambridge Companion to Joseph Ratzinger (Cambridge University Press, 2023).
