Liturgically Speaking: The Universal Prayers and the Offertory

After professing the Creed, we then offer the Universal Prayers, sometimes referred to as the Prayers of the Faithful or the petitions.  We pray for the Church and her leaders, the world, the sick and suffering, local needs, and we pray for the dead.  As we offer these prayers together for our needs, we are exercising our baptismal priesthood.  These prayers conclude the Liturgy of the Word, and we move into the Liturgy of the Eucharist.

           

The Liturgy of the Eucharist begins with the preparation of the altar and presentation of the gifts.  The corporal, missal, purificator, and chalice are brought to the altar.  In the second century, St. Justin Martyr told us simply that “bread, water, and wine are brought.”  Early on, there was no particular ritual for bringing up such gifts.  It was important for early Christians to distinguish themselves from pagan religions, and they did not want the emphasis placed on the pre-consecrated bread as if that were the victim of the sacrifice.  Later, however, the Church had to defend the goodness of material creation against Gnostic heretics who held matter to be evil.  So there arose the practice of bringing forward the bread, wine, and other foods, flowers, and gifts for the poor.  The deacons would separate out what was used for the Mass.  This practice of bringing up various food items ceased in the middle ages, though this is still the customary time to take a collection for the poor or the parish’s needs.

 

 Whereas the faithful used to bring bread for the Mass from home, this participation in the offering is still symbolized when members of the congregation bring forward the bread and wine.  We can participate further in this Offertory by offering ourselves – our lives - interiorly along with the gifts being brought up.  We might pray in words such as these: “Father I offer to you all the work I have done, all the evils I have endured, in union with this sacrifice of the Mass, offered upon the altar of the cross, in atonement for my sins and those of the whole world.”

The priest offers a blessing to God for the bread: “Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation…”  These words have deep roots in the Jewish liturgies as well as echoing the words of King Melchisedech when he offered bread and wine: “Blessed be Abram by God most High, creator of Heaven and Earth, and blessed be God most High for handing over your enemies to you” (Gen 14:18-20).  Ordinary bread was used until about the ninth century when unleavened bread became customary in the Western Church to reflect the use of unleavened bread at the Last Supper. 

After this, the priest places a few drops of water in the wine and prays: “By the mystery of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled Himself to share in our humanity.”  These words echo St. Peter’s Second Letter: “Through these, he has bestowed on us the precious and very great promises, so that through them you may come to share in the divine nature, after escaping from the corruption that is in the world because of evil desire” (2 Pet 1:4-5).  They also recall the words of Paul to the Philippians: “Christ, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.  Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness…” (Phil 2:6-7).  This is the marvelous exchange for which Christ came, and that is carried out in the liturgy: God became man so that man might share in the divine life of God.  A blessing is said also over the wine, to which we respond “Blessed be God forever.” 

A prayer taken from the three young men thrown in the fiery furnace in Daniel 3:39-40 is prayed quietly by the priest: “With humble spirit and contrite heart may we be accepted by you, O Lord, and may our sacrifice in your sight this day be pleasing to you, Lord God.”  Here the gifts and the altar may be incensed. 

The act of the priest washing his hands arose out of practical necessity.  He was dirty and was about to handle the bread that was to become the body of Christ.  Now known as the Lavabo, it symbolizes an interior purification from sin and guilt.  He prays: “Wash me, O Lord, from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.”

Liturgically Speaking: The Creed

After the homily, we pray together the Nicene Creed, a pithy summary of what we believe as Catholics which was developed through the fourth century.  In the early fourth century, a priest named Arius (250-336) denied that Christ was truly divine.  Named after its founder, Arianism taught that while Christ was greater than a mere human, he was nonetheless a created being.  The motto of Arius was “there was a time when he was not.”  He denied that Christ was of the same substance as, or consubstantial with the Father.  For Arius, there was a sharp distinction between what the Father is: God; and what Christ is: a creature, even if the first and greatest creature.  Recognizing that unity of faith meant unity for the Roman Empire, the Emperor Constantine called a universal council of bishops.  The Council of Nicaea in 325 affirmed that Christ was consubstantial with the Father.  In other words, the Son is God as much as the Father is God.  The Council of Nicaea formulated the beginnings of the Creed we profess at Mass.

In the late fourth century another heretical sect arose which denied the divinity of the Holy Spirit.  The Council of Nicaea in 325 spent most of its effort on confessing the Son as consubstantial with the Father.  Regarding the Spirit, Nicaea simply said, “We believe in the Holy Spirit,” with no further clarification.  This opened the way for those who, while affirming the divinity of the Son, denied that the Spirit was also God in the same sense.  Great church theologians of the time, such as Gregory of Nazianzus and St. Basil, wrote in defense of the full divinity of the Spirit.  In 381, the Council of Constantinople defined the matter by professing:  “We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life, who proceeds from the Father, who together with the Father and Son is worshipped and glorified, who has spoken through the prophets.” 

Hence, our Creed used at Mass is known by its full name as the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, since it was formulated at those two great councils in 325 and 381.  This Creed has been normative in the Church ever since.

The Creed was first used in the Eucharistic liturgy in Antioch and Constantinople.  It then spread to Spain where it was adopted in use right before the Lord’s Prayer as preparation for Communion.  From the earliest days of the Church, before one could participate in the Eucharist, that individual must first profess the shared faith of the Church.  For catechumens, those preparing for baptism, they were dismissed from the Church before the Creed for a period of instruction.  Only after professing the Creed at Baptism were they permitted to participate in the Eucharist for the first time.  The Creed was a way of discouraging heretics from participating in the sacred mysteries.  It passed on to the rest of Western Europe and was placed after the Gospel.  It was adopted in Rome in1014 AD.  So our profession of faith recalls our baptismal faith, and our unity in a shared belief.  And at the words “and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary and became man” we bow out of reverence for the mystery of the Incarnation of the Word.

Liturgically Speaking: The Liturgy of the Word

The reading of sacred texts in the liturgy extends back to the earliest Christians.  Around 160 A.D. St. Justin Martyr tells us that during the Christian liturgy of his time, readings were taken from the prophets as well as the “memoirs of the Apostles.” 

“When the Sacred Scriptures are read in the Church, God himself speaks to his people, and Christ, present in his word, proclaims the Gospel.  Therefore, the readings from the Word of God are to be listened to reverently by everyone, for they are an element of the greatest importance in the Liturgy” (GIRM 29).

In our liturgy today there is a three year cycle of readings for Sundays, and for weekdays a complementary yet independent two year cycle.  The three years of the Sunday cycle tend to each focus on one of the Gospel writers: Matthew, Mark, and Luke; John is spread throughout certain points of the liturgical year in each cycle.  The Liturgy of the Word is structured almost as a kind of dialogue, like a back-and-forth between God and His people.  God comes to meet us by speaking to us His Word, and we in turn lift up our response to God.  In the first reading, God speaks to us, usually in an Old Testament reading.  During the Easter season the first reading is from the Acts of the Apostles.  The first reading is generally chosen to have an organic connection to the Gospel to show forth the unity of the Old and the New Testaments.  For this reason, Old Testament readings may be from various places in the scriptures from week to week.  One helpful way to meditate on the readings is to ask, “Why did the Church couple this first reading with this Gospel?  What is the connection?” 

“After each reading, whoever reads it pronounces the acclamation, and by means of the reply the assembled people give honor to the Word of God that they have received in faith and with gratitude” (GIRM 59). Our response, though, is not simply, “Thanks be to God.”  We also respond with the responsorial psalm.  Often a song of praise, it continues our dialogue with God.  Then we again receive the Word in the second reading, usually from a letter of St. Paul or another New Testament letter.  This tends to be a continual reading of a given letter, so there is often no intended thematic connection with the other readings.  Again, we respond with the Alleluia or other Gospel Acclamation. “An acclamation of this kind constitutes a rite or act in itself, by which the gathering of the faithful welcomes and greets the Lord who is about to speak to them in the Gospel and profess their faith by means of the chant” (GIRM 62).  Alleluia comes from Hebrew and means “praise the Lord.”  The procession of the Book of the Gospels is accompanied with this song of praise. 

Since the Gospel holds a place of prominence because it relates the life of the Savior, we stand out of reverence and as a sign of eager attentiveness.  The priest prays to himself, “Cleanse my heart and my lips, almighty God, that I may worthily proclaim your holy Gospel.”  The book may also be incensed.  We, along with the priest, make the sign of the cross on our forehead, lips, and heart, praying that the Word of God may be in our minds, on our lips, and in our hearts.  After the proclamation of the Gospel, the priest or deacon kisses the book, saying inaudibly, “Through the words of the Gospel may our sins be wiped away.”  

Liturgically Speaking: The Gloria and Collect

After the Penitential Act, the Gloria is sung on Sundays and Solemnities outside of Advent and Lent (the prayer is one of such joyful praise, that we “tone down” this joy in the penitential seasons of the Church by omitting the Gloria).  Notice the spiritual movement of the Mass: after we have humbly confessed that we are sinners and implored God for His mercy, our next prayer is one of praise.  The Gloria is sometimes known as the “Greater Doxology,” “doxology” coming for the Greek word for praise.  The Gloria is a very ancient prayer, originally sung as a morning prayer at the rising of the sun.  It was introduced into the liturgy in ancient times, perhaps the second century.  At first, it was sung first only at Christmas.  This is fitting, since it begins with the words of the angels to the shepherds on the first Christmas morning: “Glory to God in the Highest and on Earth peace to people of good will” (Lk. 2:14).  In the sixth century, Pope Symmachus extended this to all Sunday Masses celebrated by the Bishop, and then by the eleventh century the Gloria was used much as it is now. 

If you’ve never done so before, try using the Gloria as a text for your own private prayer.  This can help the meaning “sink in” when it can be so easy to “rattle it off” week after week.  The Gloria opens with emphatic acclamations of praise to the Father: “We praise You. We bless You. We adore you. We glorify You. We give You thanks for Your great glory. O Lord God, heavenly King, God the Father almighty.”  It’s as if we’re using all these acclamations in search of adequate words with which to give God the praise that is His due.  The Gloria then addresses Christ:  “O Lord Jesus Christ, the Only-begotten Son. O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father: you Who take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us. You Who take away the sins of the world, receive our prayer. You Who sit at the right hand of the Father, have mercy on us. For you alone are holy. You alone are the Lord. You alone, O Jesus Christ, are most high.”  This may seem repetitive, but the language of love and poetry often is repetitive!  Here we acclaim Christ for who He is, what He has done, and we implore Him to have mercy on us and hear our prayer.  Finally, the Gloria ends by invoking the Holy Trinity: “Together with the Holy Spirit in the glory of God the Father. Amen.”  If you find yourself distracted during the Gloria, consider it as if it were a love song, and choose one word or phrase to focus on and direct to the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit. 

After the Gloria is the Opening Prayer or Collect.  We have already asked God for His mercy and offered a hymn of praise.  Now, in a summary way, we state our needs.  First, Father says “Let us pray.”  There is a moment of silence, and the intention is that we are actually praying.  At that moment we can offer to God our intention for that Mass or anything else we wish to bring before Him in our prayer.  The Collect “collects” the prayers of the whole community as we prepare to enter into the Liturgy of the Word.  The Collect also often lays before us in summary fashion the mystery we are celebrating at that liturgy.  Most Collects have the same structure:  an invocation calling upon God; grounds, or the reason for our confidence in calling upon Him; a petition; and a conclusion calling upon Christ to mediate on our behalf.  These prayers are some of the most beautiful and rich in the whole Mass.  They are also some of the easiest to miss!  If you have a hard time focusing on the Collect, try reading it ahead of time or getting a small missal book so you can follow along and make the prayer your own.  With our Amen, the Introductory Rite ends, and we begin the Liturgy of the Word.

Liturgically Speaking: The Greeting and the Penitential Act

Still within the Introductory Rites of the Mass, after the sign of the cross, the priest greets the congregation.  Like so much of our Liturgy, the greetings reflect the words of scripture.  For instance, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all” is a quote from the closing words of the Second Letters of St. Paul to the Corinthians (13:14).  “The Lord be with you” is from 2 Thess 3:16.  “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” reflects Phil 1:2, Eph 1:2, Philemon 1:3, and 1 Cor 1:3.  Finally, only a bishop may use the very words of Christ in his greeting: “Peace be with you” (John 20:21).

We respond, “And with your Spirit.”  This greeting also reflects scripture: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers,” (Gal 6:18) and “The Lord be with your spirit.  Grace be with all of you” (2 Tim 4:22).  The response “and with your spirit” is found in the liturgy from the earliest days of the Church. One of the first instances of its use is found in the Apostolic Tradition of Saint Hippolytus, composed around 215.  It’s also important to note that “Spirit” here doesn’t refer primarily to the priest’s human soul, but to the Spirit of God he received at the sacrament of ordination.  In the fifth century, Narsai of Nisibis wrote, “The name ‘spirit’ [refers] not to the soul of the priest but to the spirit he has received through the laying on of hands.”  St John Chrysostom said, “By this cry [and with your spirit], you are reminded that he who stands at the altar does nothing, and that the gifts that repose there are not the merits of a man; but that the grace of the Holy Spirit is present and, descending on all, accomplishes this mysterious sacrifice. We indeed see a man, but it is God who acts through him. Nothing human takes place at this holy altar.”  Hence, in our response, we assure the priest of the divine assistance of God’s spirit for the priest to use the gifts given to him in ordination to fulfill his priestly and prophetic role in the Church.

Next the Mass moves into the Penitential Act.  It is noteworthy that, as we begin the holy sacrifice of the Mass, our first spiritual posture is one of contrition – sorrow for sin.  This should recall to us the words of Matthew 5:23-24:  “Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.”  The Penitential Act is both an admission of our guilt and unworthiness, as well as trust in God’s mercy and his initiative in granting His grace and mercy.  The Penitential Act is not a sacramental confession, and will not forgive mortal sins, for which one needs to receive sacramental confession before receiving communion. 

There are a few different options for the Penitential Act.  The first is the Confiteor.  You’ll recognize this prayer as “I confess to almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters….”  When we speak of our fault, our most grievous fault, we make the gesture of striking our breast.  This is the gesture of the tax collector in Luke 18:13, who Jesus gives as an example of true humble repentance.   St Augustine wrote, “"No sooner have you heard the word 'Confiteor' than you strike your breast. What does this mean except that you wish to bring to light what is concealed in the breast, and by this act to cleanse your hidden sins?"  St Jerome said “We strike our breast because the breast is the seat of evil thoughts: we wish to dispel these thoughts, we wish to purify our hearts."

Another form of the Penitential Act, one not often used, is as follows:  Priest: Have mercy on us, O Lord.  People: For we have sinned against you.  Priest: Show us, O Lord, your mercy.  People: And grant us your salvation.”  This exchange echoes Psalm 41:4 and Psalm 85:7.

Another form, The Kyrie eleison, or “Lord have Mercy” formula is also biblical; we hear it on the lips of the blind men of Jericho (Matt 20:30) and the Canaanite woman (Matt 15:22): “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  The Kyrie is a vestige of what were once long litanies usually accompanying the procession to the altar.  It originated in the East where Greek was spoken, and was brought from Jerusalem to the West by pilgrims.  This is why, even in the Latin Rite Mass, it is still maintained in the original Greek.  Around the eighth century, the number of acclamations was reduced to nine: three to the Father, three to Christ (Christ have mercy), and three to the Holy Spirit.  The reforms of the Second Vatican Council gave us the simple threefold “Lord have mercy; Christ have mercy; Lord have mercy,” with which we are familiar.

Since our worship should be a fully conscious and active participation, at this point in the Mass we should take efforts that our inward prayer and disposition matches the action of the Mass.  When Father invites us to call to mind our sins, we should do just that.  We should consider those things we need to bring to the cross of Christ for mercy, those things we need to have washed in the precious blood of the lamb.  Moreover, as we confess our sinfulness and plead for God’s mercy, we ought to move our hearts to contrition, to sorrow for sin.  The Penitential Act is a spiritual moment in the Mass where we come before the infinitely loving God, recognizing our sinfulness, are really imploring Him for His abundant mercy.

Liturgically Speaking: The Sign of the Cross

Once the priest has processed to the altar and reverenced it, he leads us in the sign of the cross.  The sign of the cross is an incredibly meaningful symbol.  

In the Old Testament, the prophet Ezekiel spoke of God’s faithful being signed with a mysterious mark:

“Then he called to the man dressed in linen with the writer's case at his waist, saying to him: Pass through the city (through Jerusalem) and mark an X on the foreheads of those who moan and groan over all the abominations that are practiced within it.  To the others I heard him say: Pass through the city after him and strike! Do not look on them with pity nor show any mercy!  Old men, youths and maidens, women and children--wipe them out! But do not touch any marked with the X; begin at my sanctuary.” (Ezekiel 9:3-6)

In Ezekiel, this sign marks those who are faithful to God’s law, and serves as a sign for their protection.  In the Greek version of Ezekiel, the “mark” he mentioned is the Greek letter “Tau.”  A Tau looks like a capital “T.”  It was not a far stretch for the early Christians to see in this mysterious sign a foreshadowing of the sign of the Lord’s cross. 

The book of Revelation seems to take on the imagery of Ezekiel, speaking of a “seal” on the foreheads of God’s chosen people, a sign of their election and protection:

“Then I saw another angel come up from the East, holding the seal of the living God. He cried out in a loud voice to the four angels who were given power to damage the land and the sea, "Do not damage the land or the sea or the trees until we put the seal on the foreheads of the servants of our God."  I heard the number of those who had been marked with the seal, one hundred and forty-four thousand marked from every tribe of the Israelites…”(Rev 7:2-4)

The words of the sign of the cross recall to us our baptism.  Before his ascension, Christ commanded his Apostles: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20)  Our baptism is our entrance into the Church and the foundation of our life in the grace of Christ, which allows us to approach Him in the Eucharist.

The words of the sign of the cross also profess our belief in the central mystery of our faith – who God is in His deepest identity.  We proclaim one God in three equal Persons – Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

The sign of the cross also recalls the pinnacle event of God’s love for us and the means of our salvation – the Paschal Mystery – the suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ.  Continually makeing the sign of the Lord’s cross, we echo St. Paul, “For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” (1 Cor 2:2)

In the early Church we have positive evidence that the sign of the cross was familiar to Christians in the second century:

"In all our travels and movements, in all our coming in and going out, in putting of our shoes, at the bath, at the table, in lighting our candles, in lying down, in sitting down, whatever employment occupieth us, we mark our foreheads with the sign of the cross". (Tertullian, c. 200AD)

The sign of the cross must soon have passed into a gesture of blessing, as St. Cyril of Jerusalem in his Catechesis (386) describes:

"Let us then not be ashamed to confess the Crucified. Be the cross our seal, made with boldness by our fingers on our brow and in everything; over the bread we eat and the cups we drink, in our comings and in goings; before our sleep, when we lie down and when we awake; when we are travelling, and when we are at rest".

Liturgically Speaking: The Introductory Rites of the Mass

For the last few weeks these posts have focused on different aspects of the liturgy, trying to get a sense of what the liturgy is and how it is a distinct and unique form of prayer.  Now over the next several months, we’ll be focusing on the parts of the Mass, seeking a deeper understanding of the mysteries in which we are participating.

The Mass is divided into two major parts: the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist.  These describe the two principle means by which we encounter Christ in the Mass: through His word in the Scriptures and through His body and blood in the Eucharist.  In the Mass is spread the table both of God’s Word and of the Body of Christ, from which we are instructed and refreshed.  We also find the Introductory Rites at the beginning of Mass, and the Concluding Rite at the end.

The Introductory Rites are intended to bring us together as one and to prepare us to listen to the Word of God and to worthily celebrate the Eucharist.

Mass begins with the entrance procession.  The procession is not merely a pragmatic means of getting from point “A” to point “B.”  Like so many elements of the liturgy, the entrance procession is pregnant with meaning.  It symbolizes the pilgrim Church, those of us still on our journey, approaching our heavenly homeland.  From the doors of the Church and the fallen world outside, the priest and other ministers process to the sanctuary and the altar, where Heaven meets earth.  This pilgrim journey is emphasized by carrying in procession a Crucifix, symbolizing Christ guiding us safely on our journey.  Each procession can also remind us of the procession we specifically celebrate once a year on Palm Sunday.  It reminds us that Jesus has entered into our presence as he once triumphantly entered into Jerusalem at the beginning of His Passion.

When the priest and deacon reach the sanctuary, they reverence the altar with a kiss.  Why kiss the altar?  The altar is a symbol of Christ. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says that “the Christian altar is the symbol of Christ himself, present in the midst of the assembly of his faithful, both as the victim offered for our reconciliation and as food from heaven who is giving himself to us. ‘For what is the altar of Christ if not the image of the Body of Christ?’ asks St. Ambrose” (CCC 1383).  So to kiss the altar is to kiss Christ, and is an image of the Church and Christ, Bride and Bridegroom in the wedding feast of the Lamb.

The kissing of the altar is also an act of veneration of the relics of the saints contained in the altar stone.  In the early Church, Mass was often said at the tombs of the martyrs.  This is the origin of having relics in most altars.  In the traditional Latin Mass, as he kissed the altar, the priest would pray “We beseech You, O Lord, by the merits of Your Saints whose relics lie here, and of all the Saints, deign in your mercy to pardon me all my sins.” 

This action is accompanied by the Entrance Antiphon.  For decades now, most parishes have completely replaced the Entrance Antiphon with various opening hymns.  There is a very real difference here.  While a hymn chosen from a hymnal is singing at Mass, singing the Entrance Antiphon is singing the Mass.  A hymn is something brought from outside the Mass itself to be used within the Mass (and there’s nothing wrong with this; it’s given by the Church as an option).  The Entrance Antiphon, however, is an actual prayer text of the Mass for the day, just like the Collect (opening prayer) or Prayer after Communion.  Besides accompanying the procession, the Entrance Antiphon is meant to open the celebration, foster our unity, and introduce us to the mystery being celebrated in that particular liturgy.  For instance, the Entrance Antiphon for “Laetare Sunday” the 4th Sunday of Lent, is “Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her, all you who love her.  Sing out in exultation…”  If we drop these antiphons completely, we are replacing the very texts the Church is asking us to pray!  

Liturgically Speaking: Full, Active, Conscious Participation in the Liturgy

One of the main themes of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (SC) from the Second Vatican Council was full, active, conscious participation in the liturgy.  Consider the following quote from the Council:

Mother Church earnestly desires that all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy. Such participation by the Christian people as "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a redeemed people (1 Pet. 2:9; cf. 2:4-5), is their right and duty by reason of their baptism. (SC 14)

The very nature of the liturgy demands this kind of participation, and our right to participate in this way flows from our baptism.  So much was this a concern, that the council called this kind of participation in the Liturgy its primary aim:

In the restoration and promotion of the sacred liturgy, this full and active participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit; and therefore pastors of souls must zealously strive to achieve it, by means of the necessary instruction, in all their pastoral work. (SC 14)

This wasn’t the first time the Church had talked about active participation in the Liturgy by all the faithful.  Sixty years prior, Pope Pius X was calling for the same thing:

Filled as We are with a most ardent desire to see the true Christian spirit flourish in every respect and be preserved by all the faithful, We deem it necessary to provide before anything else for the sanctity and dignity of the temple, in which the faithful assemble for no other object than that of acquiring this spirit from its foremost and indispensable font, which is the active participation in the most holy mysteries and in the public and solemn prayer of the Church. (Tra le Sollecitudini, Instruction on Sacred Music, Pope Pius X, November 22, 1903)

The question arose after the Council, however, what is meant by full, active, conscious participation in the liturgy?  Not everyone agreed, and this meant variations in practice at Sunday Masses.  Pope Benedict XVI has written:

“But what does this active participation come down to?  What does it mean that we have to do?  Unfortunately, the word was very quickly misunderstood to mean something external, entailing a need for general activity, as if as many people as possible, as often as possible, should be visibly engaged in action.  (The Spirit of the Liturgy, 171).

No, this active participation does not necessitate that we’re all doing something external throughout the liturgy.  Certainly, some of these external actions (gestures, postures, responses, etc.) manifest active participation:

To promote active participation, the people should be encouraged to take part by means of acclamations, responses, psalmody, antiphons, and songs, as well as by actions, gestures, and bodily attitudes. And at the proper times all should observe a reverent silence. (SC 30)

Notice, however, that silence is listed as a means of active participation!  While outward manifestations are helpful, the primary notion of full, active, conscious participation in the Liturgy is our interior participation:

But in order that the liturgy may be able to produce its full effects, it is necessary that the faithful come to it with proper dispositions, that their minds should be attuned to their voices, and that they should cooperate with divine grace lest they receive it in vain. Pastors of souls must therefore realize that, when the liturgy is celebrated, something more is required than the mere observation of the laws governing valid and licit celebration; it is their duty also to ensure that the faithful take part fully aware of what they are doing, actively engaged in the rite, and enriched by its effects. (SC 11)

Hence, the vision of Vatican II and its restoration of the Liturgy was not some sort of frenetic attempt at including everyone in outward action at all times.  Truly full, active, conscious participation means the work of forming ourselves to understand the meaning of the Liturgy and the (sometimes difficult) work of attuning our hearts and minds to the actions unfolding at the Liturgy.  After all, it’s one thing to sing the response, Hosanna in the Highest; it’s another thing to know what Hosanna means.  One is simply activity.  The other is full, active, conscious participation.

IVF - Why Not

[A simpler audio presentation of the topic can be heard HERE.]

When we were preparing for marriage, we discussed the number of children might want.  We both agreed that we wanted a big family, maybe six to eight kids.  More than seven years into marriage, we are still childless, and for six of those years we have knowingly suffered with infertility.  We’ve tried herbal supplements, medications, shots, even surgery.  We’ve prayed and made pilgrimages.  Barring a true miracle, we will never have biological children of our own.  On more than one occasion we have been told that we could have biological children of our own only if we go the route of in vitro fertilization.

Infertility is like getting in a car accident, or getting cancer – you never think it will happen to you.  But we’ve met dozens of couples like us.  We know the heartache, the pain, and the despair of infertility.  We see pregnant mothers and families with newborns everywhere we look.  We pass each Christmas, birthday, and anniversary being reminded that this is yet another year without a child to hold.  Our dreams for our future together, the meaning of our marriage, and the purpose of our lives have been shaken.  And IVF is held out to us as a solution, a healing for all the pain.

We are also Catholic.  Our Church teaches that IVF is morally unacceptable.  In the midst of our pain, and despite the “hope” that IVF holds out to us, we have embraced the Catholic Church’s teaching.  Not only that, but by God’s grace we have come to see it not as an imposition on us from an arbitrary authority from without.  No, we have come to see the reasons behind the Church’s teaching, and the wisdom and beauty in the Church’s vision of the human person and human sexuality.  In that way, the Church’s teaching on IVF is not an imposition, but the condition for us to joyfully exercise true freedom in doing the good in regard to our infertility. 

As we’ve walked this path, and met others who have experienced infertility, we’ve discovered that most people, even Catholics, do not know the reasons for the Church’s teaching regarding IVF.  This is complicated by a number of factors.  It’s important to address some of the issues that complicate an understanding of this teaching, especially by first addressing two common misunderstandings.

The Sacrament of Confession

Here is the audio of a talk I gave to parents whose 2nd grade students are preparing for first confession.  I wanted to place the sacrament of Confession in the broader picture of Catholic life.  I used the idea of "Communion" to tie together the various aspects.

The Audio can be found HERE.

And just for fun, here's Homer Simpson making his first Confession:

Liturgically Speaking: “I Received from the Lord what I also Handed on to You”

We have in our Catholic tradition certain rote prayers we memorize as children: The Lord’s Prayer, the Hail Mary, the Gory Be, and others.  Prayer can also be spontaneous, “made up” in our own words.  In one way, the Liturgy is more like the rote prayers we received from our parents as children.  The Liturgy is handed on to us; it is part of our tradition.  We don’t create the Liturgy; we receive the Liturgy as part of the Tradition of our Catholic Faith.

This “handing on” of the Liturgy is already apparent in the first generation of the Church.  St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians:

“For I received from the Lord what I also handed on (tradidi) to you, that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”  In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.  Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.” (1 Corinthians 11:23-26)

The Corinthians were not at liberty to create their public worship in any form they chose.  Its form was handed on to them from Paul, a form he also received from Christ Himself.  This handing on continued in in the early church and beyond.  Consider this description of Catholic worship from St. Justin Martyr from around 155 AD.  See if any of this sounds familiar:

“And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons.” 

Hopefully you can see echoes of our Sunday Mass already in this second century description of the Mass.  That which was handed on to Paul from the Lord, which he handed on to the Corinthians, that which was handed on to St. Justin Martyr, has also been handed on through the ages to us.

We celebrate the Liturgy as we do because it is part of our Tradition, handed on to us – a kind of family heirloom.  We can no more arbitrarily change the Liturgy that we can add new books to the Bible, or a fourth Person to the Trinity.  The Liturgy is not our construction.  There is nothing more antithetical to the spirit of the Liturgy than some committee or liturgist “creatively” manufacturing the Liturgy as their own personal product.  The Liturgy is not the property of any group or individual; the Liturgy is a gift faithfully handed on in the Church, uniting us to generations of Christians past, linking us to the saints, martyrs, apostles, and to Christ Himself.

Liturgically Speaking: The Worship of all Creation

The Liturgy is unique.  Liturgy involves not just those gathered for worship, or even the whole Church.  The sacraments of the Church encompass all of creation. 

“Sacrament” is how God does creation.  In an analogous sense, all of creation is “sacramental” – in the broad, generic sense of being an outward sign of a hidden reality.  Consider what the Psalmist says: "The heavens show forth the glory of God, and the firmament declareth the work of his hands" (Psalm 18:2).  St. Paul offers the same thought in the New Testament:  “The invisible things of him [i.e. God], from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; his eternal power also, and divinity" (Romans 1:20).  In other words, all of the visible, created world is a sign of God’s hidden presence.  Even the poet Gerard Manly Hopkins suggests the same:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.                     

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;                       

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil   

Crushed.         

So why does the Church worship in the sacramental way?  Because we live in a sacramental universe!  The problem is that we’ve largely lost our “sacramental glasses” – we no longer see with a sacramental worldview.  Ever since the Fall, we see creation isolated from the creator.  We need a training ground, a school of sacramentality where the signs and symbols of God’s presence are abundant and “thick.”  We need the liturgy.

The liturgy assumes into our worship all of creation, all of space and time, because all of creation was implicated in the Fall.  St. Paul says:

“For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God.  We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now.” (Romans 8:19-23)

Space and places are transformed by the liturgy.  Our Church is not just any building.  Our parish church is a microcosm of the world and of the story of salvation.  Consider: at the beginning of Mass, there is a procession from the doors of the Church, from the outside fallen world, to the altar, the place where heaven meets earth.  By our doors are holy water fonts, reminding us that baptism is the door to the Church.  Our church faces eastward, toward the rising sun, a sign of our awaiting the coming of the risen Christ.

Time is also transfigured by the liturgy.  The Liturgy takes up the very course of time, and transforms it for the worship of God.  We celebrate the saving work of Christ on certain days throughout the course of the year. Each week, on the Lord's Day, we remember the Lord's resurrection. We also celebrate it once every year, together with his Passion, at Easter. In the course of the whole year we unfold the whole mystery of Christ’s life.  Even the various hours of the day are permeated and transfigured by the celebration of the Liturgy of the Hours.

Adoption through Jesus Christ

See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.  Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. (1 John 3:1-2)

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to ransom those under the law, so that we might receive adoption.  As proof that you are children, God sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!”  So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God. (Gal 4:5)

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.  For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, “Abba, Father!”  The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if only we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him. (Rom 8:14)

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavens, as he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world, to be holy and without blemish before him. In love he destined us for adoption to himself through Jesus Christ, in accord with the favor of his will. (Eph 1:5)

Liturgically Speaking: Entering into Heavenly Worship

In our liturgy each week (and every day), we take part in a foretaste of the heavenly liturgy.  I know, I know...  Mass doesn’t always seem like a foretaste of Heaven!  But we have to see behind the signs and the symbols (imperfect as they sometimes are) to the reality they contain.   

Consider: what will you do for all eternity in Heaven?  Play golf?  Drink daiquiris on the beach?  Play a harp on a cloud?  While that may be the first place our imaginations go, the truth is that we would quickly tire of even our favorite activities in eternity.  That’s because we were not created for these things.  We were created with an intellect to know the truth, and a will to choose and love the good.  That’s what separates us from the animals.  And we’re not made to know just any truth, or to choose just any love.  We’re made to know Truth and love Goodness itself; infinite Truth and Goodness.  Our ultimate desire as humans created in the image and likeness of God is to know and love God.  Our little desires for little goods along the way are but signs and foretastes of the real fulfillment to come.  As St. Augustine said, “You have created us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.”  So what will we do for all eternity in Heaven?  We will worship, know, and love God, the source of infinite Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.    

The Liturgy is a school for Heaven.  It’s where we learn to know and love God in worship.  We get a hint of this in the opening lines of the Sanctus (Holy, Holy).  The words are derived from Isaiah 6:3 in which the Seraphim angels cry to one another the praises of God in the heavenly throne room of the Lord.  The words are echoed in a slightly different form by the four living creatures in Revelation 4:8.  In both cases, the words take place in the context of the heavenly worship of God.  Those who even now celebrate it without signs are already in the heavenly liturgy.

At each liturgy, as we are about to enter into the Eucharistic prayer, we hear the song of praise sung in the heavenly courts.  The liturgy itself is signaling to us what is about to happen – we are about to enter into and participate in that heavenly liturgy.  The Preface of the Mass, immediately before the Sanctus, often speaks even more explicitly of this participation.  Consider the conclusion of the Preface from the first Sunday of Advent:

And so, with Angels and Archangels,

with Thrones and Dominions,

and with all the hosts and Powers of heaven,

we sing the hymn of your glory,

as without end we acclaim:

What is unique and mysterious is the movement of the community beyond itself into a participation in the heavenly.  It is precisely this heavenly, transcendent understanding of liturgy that the Sanctus offers us on the cusp of the Eucharistic Prayer.  It is a sign that alerts us to the fact that we are now entering the heavenly courts, approaching the throne of God, and of the Lamb.  It awakens us to our participation, not in just our community worship, but in the wedding feast of the Lamb in the presence of all the angels and saints.  It is in this eternal liturgy that the Spirit and the Church enable us to participate whenever we celebrate the mystery of salvation in the sacraments.

Liturgically Speaking: Entering into the Worship of the Church

As the work of Christ, the liturgy is also an action of his whole Church.  The Church is inseparably the body of Christ, and Christ is the head of that body. Thus, it is the whole Christ, the Body united with its Head, that celebrates the liturgy. 

This first means that the Liturgy makes the Church present and manifests the Church.  We visibly see occur the Church’s mission of uniting humanity to God, and to each other in the liturgy.  That mission is made manifest in the celebration of the liturgy.  In the liturgy, we draw into closer communion with God and with one another.  The Church finds its origin in the Eucharist, the self-giving of Christ, and the Church becomes most herself while celebrating the liturgy.

This also means that liturgical services are never simply private functions.  They are celebrations of the Church. Therefore, liturgical services pertain to the whole Body of the Church.  Even if we imagine for a moment the Sacrament of Confession in which only the priest and the penitent are physically present, it is not a merely private service.  The priest represents the whole Church to the penitent, and both are surrounded by the angels and saints in heaven rejoicing over the return of a sinner. 

While the liturgy is an action of the whole Church, the members do not all have the same function. Certain members are called by God to the sacrament of Holy Orders, by which the Holy Spirit enables them to act in the person of Christ the head. The ordained priest is an "icon" of Christ the priest, offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, offering absolution of sins in Confession, and preaching the truth of the Gospel to their flock.

Finally, since the liturgy is the prayer of the whole Church, the liturgy does not belong to any parishioner, any priest, any liturgical director, any worship committee, any choir, or any parish.  All those individuals and groups receive the liturgy from the tradition of the Church and stand as servants of the liturgy, not the liturgy’s masters or creators. 

At another parish at which I served, at a Mass with children, some parents argued that the kids should do the readings since, “this is their Mass.”  Of course, sometimes the youngsters may well do the readings.  What caught my attention was the idea that this Mass belonged to these children.  This is simply not the case.  The Mass “belongs” to Christ, and he allows his body, the Church, to participate in His work in the liturgy.    

Thus, we can’t simply make up changes and innovations in the liturgy based on local preference or creativity.  The liturgy is not ours to tinker with as we see fit.  This is why the Second Vatican Council said that “no other person, even if he be a priest, may add, remove, or change anything in the liturgy on his own authority.”

Liturgically Speaking: Entering into the Mysteries of Christ’s Death, and Resurrection

Catholicism often makes use of the term “mystery.”  In the Creed we profess the mystery of the Holy Trinity.  God’s plan for our salvation, hidden throughout the ages and fulfilled in history is what St. Paul calls the "plan of the mystery” (Eph. 3:9).  The scriptures reveal to us the mystery of the Father’s will to give his Son and the gift of the Holy Spirit for our salvation.  This plan was accomplished principally through the Paschal Mystery.  “Paschal Mystery” is a kind of shorthand for the suffering, death, Resurrection and Ascension of Christ – those central events of Christ’s life that save us from sin and eternal death.

Have you ever wondered, though, what the death and Resurrection of Christ, two thousand years ago, on the other side of the world, have to do with us in America in 2015?  How are we connected to a person and events that can seem so distant, remote, and even irrelevant to our daily lives? 

The answer is the liturgy.  In the liturgy, Christ’s death and Resurrection are not simply two thousand years ago, on the other side of the world.  Christ and his death and Resurrection are present and active here and now every time we celebrate the liturgy. In the liturgy, the Church celebrates above all the Paschal Mystery by which Christ accomplishes the work of our salvation.  In the liturgy of the Church, Christ’s Paschal Mystery is signified and made present.

How is this possible?  Christ’s Paschal Mystery is an event that occurred once in history, but it is unique: all other historical events happen once, and then they are swallowed up in the past. Other historical events can simply be recalled and remembered.  The Paschal Mystery of Christ is different.  Since Jesus Christ is God, all that Christ did participates in the divine eternity.  All the works of Jesus transcend time while being made truly present in all times. The event of the Cross and Resurrection abides.   

The work of our salvation is accomplished here and now by means of the sacraments, around which the entire liturgical life revolves. In the liturgy, we are not simply passive spectators; we are active participants in the saving work of Christ.  We participate in the Paschal Mystery as we recall it and celebrate it.  For instance, St. Paul says that in baptism we are plunged into the Paschal Mystery of Christ: we die with Him, are buried with Him, and rise with Him (cf. Rom 6:3-5).  This is not simply a metaphor or poetic language; it is reality.  Under sacramental signs, we receive the reality they signify.  In the fourth century, St. Cyril of Jerusalem said to the newly baptized:

O strange and inconceivable thing! We did not really die, we were not really buried, we were not really crucified and raised again; but our imitation was in a figure, and our salvation in reality. Christ was actually crucified, and actually buried, and truly rose again; and all these things He has freely bestowed upon us, that we, sharing His sufferings by imitation, might gain salvation in reality. O surpassing loving-kindness! Christ received nails in His undefiled hands and feet, and suffered anguish; while on me without pain or toil by the fellowship of His suffering He freely bestows salvation.

In like manner, “as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26).  The Mass makes present, here and now, the one sacrifice of Christ on Calvary.  At the Mass, we stand at the foot of the cross and participate in Jesus’ perfect offering to the Father.

Hence, far from being distant, remote, or irrelevant, the liturgy makes the Paschal Mystery present here and now, and we directly encounter the person of and the work of Christ.

Liturgically Speaking: Entering into the Life and Love of the Trinity

The word “liturgy” comes from two Greek words meaning “people” and “work.”  Due to these roots, it has been popular in the last fifty years or more to describe the liturgy as “the work of the people.”  But is the liturgy our work?  Is the liturgy something we do?  Who is it that acts in the liturgy?  In reality, the liturgy is primarily the work of God the Holy Trinity.

God the Father is the source and the goal of the liturgy.  Through the liturgy the Father fills us with his blessings in Christ and pours the Holy Spirit into our hearts.  At the same time, the Church blesses the Father by worship, praise, and thanksgiving, and implores him for the gift of his Son and the Holy Spirit.

Christ also works in the liturgy.  Through the gift of the Holy Spirit the Church makes present Christ’s work of salvation through the Eucharist and the other sacraments, in which Christ himself acts to communicate his grace to us.  The Second Vatican Council reminds us of this:

"To accomplish so great a work Christ is always present in his Church, especially in her liturgical celebrations. He is present in the Sacrifice of the Mass not only in the person of his minister, 'the same now offering, through the ministry of priests, who formerly offered himself on the cross,' but especially in the Eucharistic species. By his power he is present in the sacraments so that when anybody baptizes, it is really Christ himself who baptizes. He is present in his word since it is he himself who speaks when the holy Scriptures are read in the Church. Lastly, he is present when the Church prays and sings, for he has promised 'where two or three are gathered together in my name there am I in the midst of them’" (SC 7).

The Holy Spirit acts in the very closest cooperation with the Church in the liturgy.  The Holy Spirit prepares the Church to encounter her Lord.  He recalls and manifests Christ to the assembly.  He makes the mystery of Christ really present.  He unites the Church to the life and mission of Christ. 

At Mass, the Epiclesis ("invocation upon") is the intercession in which the priest asks God the Father to send the Holy Spirit so that the bread and wine may become the body and blood of Christ, and that we ourselves may become a living offering to God.  You can recognize the epiclesis at Mass because Father extends his hands over the gifts, and often at Ss. Peter and Paul, the bells are rung to alert us to this moment.  In every liturgical action the Holy Spirit is sent in order to bring us into communion with Christ and to form his Body.

The liturgy is also our participation in Christ's own prayer addressed to the Father in the Holy Spirit.  How can we understand this participation?  Think of a toddler “helping” his dad shovel snow with a little toy shovel.  The toddler is participating in his father’s work, but is only doing so by the will and the work of the father.  The participation is a true work, but relies totally on the father’s initiative, and only in union with him.   

In the liturgy, all Christian prayer finds its source and goal: “The excellence of Christian prayer lies in its sharing in the reverent love of the only-begotten Son for the Father and in the prayer that the Son put into words in his earthly life and that still continues without ceasing in the name of the whole human race and for its salvation, throughout the universal Church and in all its members.” (General Instruction to the Liturgy of the Hours, 7)

Have a question about the Liturgy? Email mikebrummond@gmail.com

Liturgically Speaking: What is the Liturgy?

Over the next several months, I'll be focusing on the liturgy, and specifically the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  Since the Eucharist is the source and the summit of the Christian life, it makes sense to reflect often on the meaning of the Church’s liturgical prayer and its place in our lives.

We’ll begin by asking, what is the liturgy?  Asking what something is, is important because action follows upon being.  For instance, I put gasoline in my car and get regular oil changes based on the nature of its engine.  I water my house plants, and without water they die because they are vegetative life.  For something to fully flourish, action must follow upon being.  If actions are taken contrary to a thing’s being, that thing may languish or perish.  Hence, entering into the liturgy and making decisions about carrying out the liturgy (action) must always be made in light of the nature (being) of the liturgy.  Hence the question, “What is the liturgy?” 

Pope Pius XII offered this description of the liturgy in 1947:  “The sacred liturgy is, consequently, the public worship which our Redeemer as Head of the Church renders to the Father, as well as the worship which the community of the faithful renders to its Founder, and through Him to the heavenly Father. It is, in short, the worship rendered by the Mystical Body of Christ in the entirety of its Head and members” (Mediator Dei, 20). 

The Second Vatican Council added this point as part of its description of the liturgy:  “Rightly, then, the liturgy is considered as an exercise of the priestly office of Jesus Christ” (SC 7).

The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that “The word ‘liturgy’ originally meant a ‘public work’ or a ‘service in the name of/on behalf of the people.’ In Christian tradition it means the participation of the People of God in ‘the work of God.’ Through the liturgy Christ, our redeemer and high priest, continues the work of our redemption in, with, and through his Church” (CCC 1069).

Church law (Canon Law) states that “Such worship takes place when it is carried out in the name of the Church by persons legitimately designated and through acts approved by the authority of the Church” (CIC 834 §2).

So, “What is the Liturgy?

·         Liturgy is public worship.  That is, liturgy is the worship of the whole Church, and is distinguished from our private prayer or private devotions such as the rosary, novenas, chaplets, etc.

·         The one carrying out the work of the liturgy is primarily Jesus Christ Himself.

·         The liturgy is considered as an exercise of the priestly office of Jesus Christ.  Christ’s work as priest was (and remains) the worship of God the Father and our sanctification.  So through the liturgy, Christ continues that work: the worship of God the Father, and dispensing God’s grace to make His people holy. 

·         The liturgy is primarily the celebration of Christ’s paschal mystery.  What is signified and made present in the liturgy is primarily Christ’s work on our behalf: his suffering, death and resurrection that sets us free from sin and reconciles us to God.

·         Liturgy is our participation in ‘the work of God.’ We, as members Christ’s Mystical Body the Church, participate in Christ’s work of worshiping the Father.  Through the liturgy Christ also continues the work of our redemption in, with, and through his Church.

·         The liturgy must be carried out by the designated ministers using those prayers found in the liturgical books of the Church.  We can’t just make up the liturgy as we go along.  The liturgy is a part of our tradition - something that we receive, not something we create.

·         Hence, while we often speak of the Mass as “the Liturgy,” “liturgy” includes more than just the Mass.  Liturgy includes all of the sacraments as well as things like funeral rites, exorcisms, certain blessings, and the Liturgy of the Hours.