{Lenten Book Club: The Spirit of the Liturgy}
As promised — and I do believe, in keeping with the mission of this blog, which is to talk about what we want to talk about — we will read The Spirit(s) of the Liturgy as a little book club together this Lent. I will post here exactly as I would talk to you about it if we were together. Please add your questions and comments!
- First, Romano Guardini’s The Spirit of the Liturgy. It’s free, online. You can also purchase it here, although be warned, this edition does not have the footnotes, which stinks.
- Then, Joseph Ratzinger: The Spirit of the Liturgy (yes, same name).
- (When you buy something via our Amazon affiliate link, a little cash rolls our way… just a little. Thanks!)
- I’ll post on Fridays. I’ll give you your homework, I’ll talk about what we read, we’ll discuss in the comments. You can do this study at any point, but if you want to stay current and join in the convo, that’s how it will go.
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Previously:
The Introduction: Escaping Preference
Chapter One: Seeking Universal Prayer
Homework: Read Chapters Three and Four for next Friday (the subjects are dealt with more at length in Ratzinger's book and we need to get to the end of the book in time! Not that we will be done by the end of Lent, but you knew that, based on the time we read Casti Connubii “for Lent!)
Chapter Two, The Spirit of the Liturgy, Romano Guardini
The Fellowship of the Liturgy
{All emphases in quotes are mine unless noted.}
How good God is.
He knows just what we need, and he corrects us as we careen from one extreme to the other, dangerously coming close to the edge of the cliff or heading for the rockface, foot on the accelerator, no clue what is in store for us.
In the Liturgy He gives us Himself. The Church is the body of Christ — we become incorporated (in-body-ed) in Him. As we saw in Chapter One, worship goes way beyond what any one mind can encompass. We need to step back and see how big this idea is, the idea of universality. When we take it seriously, we can avoid some desperate mistakes.
Fellowship in the Liturgy, the subject of this chapter, is an example of how God quietly goes about the correction He must give us.
The Church is more than a “gathering,” even though gathering is part of it. We come together, but we easily lose sight of the vastness of what this gathering is — not only everyone we see, but also those all over the world, and all those who have gone before us, the saints and the souls. And the angels. And all of creation.
And we are all bound together in something that transcends our parts, namely, a real entity: the Church, Christ's body.
The Church is self-contained, a structure-system of intricate and invisible vital principles, of means and ends, of activity and production, of people, organizations, and laws. It does consist of the faithful, then; but it is more than the mere body of these, passively held together by a system of similar convictions and regulations. The faithful are actively united by a vital and fundamental principle common to them all. That principle is Christ Himself; His life is ours; we are incorporated in Him; we are His Body, “Corpus Christi mysticum.”
This binding requires of us two things, Guardini says: first, that we make the sacrifice to be part of it, and second, that we produce something in return.
The sacrifice leads us to do what we must to be unified with the others. The decision to be willing to make a sacrifice renders us attentive to the “soft, still voice” of the Spirit, to put aside our preferences, to react promptly to the movement of the Church as she leads us through her pattern, her dance, her rhythm.
It is… the task of the individual to apprehend clearly the ideal world of the liturgy…
For us, perhaps, the hardest demand to assimilate about the Liturgy, and the one which summarizes Guardini's theme, is this:
[One] must at times — and this is inevitable in so richly developed a system of symbols, prayer and action — take part in proceedings of which he does not entirely, if at all, understand the significance…
… The sacrifice required in the first place is that of renouncing the right of self determination in spiritual activity; in the second, that of renouncing spiritual isolation. There it is a question of subordinating self to a fixed and objective order, here of sharing life in common with other people. There humility is required, here charity and vigorous expansion of self.
We are still ourselves, with all our own ups and downs and particularities. Jesus walks with us and shares it all. Indeed, it means more to Him than to us! But, in the context of worship, when the Church wants us to mourn, we ought to mourn. When she wants us to rejoice, we ought to rejoice. If she offers us a saint, we should try to see the virtue of the saint, even if we have our own favorite saints already. We are little children, immersed in what attracts our wayward attention at the moment; she is the loving mother, who gently nudges us to the place she needs us to be. Going there very often requires sacrifice!
In the Liturgy of the Hours we find an excellent example of this principle. Once we enter into its rhythm, we find very often that a Psalm or antiphon perfectly expresses what we are experiencing. But other times, things seem off; a Psalm of lament doesn't strike a particular chord, or the sadness we feel isn't mirrored in a prayer of joy. At those moments, we have to lift our spirit to the others — the ones who are suffering or rejoicing elsewhere. How many captives are languishing while we mindlessly go from one task to another in our comfort? Which of our brethren is genuinely relieved and thankful for deliverance while we are slogging through some tedious circumstance? We must — we must –– be in fellowship with them, and often it takes sacrifice on our part to be so.
As to production, clearly worship must make us grow in virtue. Guardini speaks of “a widened outlook.” I'm going to warn that we won't necessarily know, ourselves, the measure of this growth. But if we stick close to the Sacraments (particularly Confession) and ask of ourselves a little more (here we see the value of Lent!), we will be doing all we can do.
And I'm going to suggest to you that these two requirements are not anything we can quantify or label. It's not up to us to decide for others what these two aspects, sacrifice and production, will look like. Since, as he says, they can be summed up as “humility,” how can we really measure them?
Saying (even to ourselves), “If you are not involved in programs at the parish, you aren't giving back to the Church,” is out of bounds. There are many members of a body, and some are not visible or otherwise apprehended by the senses (some that are, aren't necessarily pleasant to behold!).
I have heard tell of pastors who look up the contributions to see if a parishioner is “active.” I've heard of good, stout fathers of families who don't want their offerings to be recorded. “God knows what I'm giving.” How can the pastor deem that man “a non-contributor”?
And these requirements of the faithful — sacrifice and production — presuppose a Liturgy that is what it ought to be. In other words, the two requirements don't relieve us from the need of, or release us from begging for, true worship. They are not meant to be a trump card, played by those who wish to change the Liturgy from its true nature: “Be obedient to this deformed version of worship that we have deemed appropriate, for you must sacrifice.” No!
Finally, Guardini has an interesting point that amplifies the one in Chapter One about temperament. He speaks of how our aloofness from or craving for fellowship can end in cult-like behavior, with a personality — one who tends to collect around himself others like him, out of an aloofness from others who aren't like him — that leads vulnerable people — who crave his charisma — astray, as they follow him to their doom.
To avoid this end, we need the prudence that sees the value of restraint:
For this reason people like this will not find all their expectations immediately fulfilled in the liturgy. The [genuine] fellowship of the liturgy will to them appear frigid and restricted. From which it follows that this fellowship, however complete and genuine it may be, still acts as a check upon unconditional self-surrender.
The latter point is a good corrective to the one that opens the chapter, in which he urges us to consider how we must “renounce our independence” in the Liturgy.
And here I am going to put in a plug for that much-maligned characteristic of Catholic parishes, that they are “frigid and restricted” (meaning restricted emotionally — every parish is open to everyone).
We just don't know what brings a person into a church. To overwhelm that person with a programmed kind of “fellowship” — to pounce on him, ask his name, welcome him, hand him brochures, invite him to coffee — may seem difficult to argue against. But let me try.
It's one thing to catch someone's eye and have the common sense, good will, and basic human skills to realize he's looking for help or for a friendly gesture. It's another to make it part of worship to inflict fellowship on him in this way — say, by the priest asking “if anyone here is new” or overtly welcoming strangers. We must allow the possibility that he is uncomfortable in revealing his reasons (if he knows them!) for being there, or for any other of countless possibilities, all of which come down to the need to practice restraint in approaching someone new.
These “best fellowship practices” that are proliferating have the undesirable effect of making the church appear not as what it is, the body of Christ, but as an organization of a more worldly kind! If there are new people singled out, that implies that the congregation consists of “members” not in the sense of members of a body, but members of a club.
This kind of forced “fellowship” violates the principle that Guardini ends the chapter with:
… the union of the members is not directly accomplished from man to man. It is accomplished by and in their joint aim, goal, and spiritual resting place — God — by their identical creed, sacrifice and sacraments. In the liturgy it is of very rare occurrence that speech and response, and action or gesture are immediately directed from one member of the fellowship to the other. When this does occur, it is generally worth while to observe the great restraint which characterizes such communication. It is governed by strict regulations. The individual is never drawn into contacts which are too extensively direct. He is always free to decide how far he is to get into touch, from the spiritual point of view, with others in that which is common to them all, in God.
This culture of restraint, I believe, appropriately extends to the borders of the worship experience (the coming and going to Mass) to provide a sort of “safe zone” for the newcomer to figure things out, even at the risk of seeming cold.
Again, for individuals to reach out to someone they see is looking around or in need of help, is a very different thing, and we should encourage each other to be warm in that context. Apostolate — the going out of each person to the others — is distinct from Liturgy, and is a very different expression of the life of faith from a policy and program of “greeting” and “fellowship,” so contrary to the spirit of what Guardini is talking about, especially within the celebration of the Mass:
Take the kiss of peace, for instance; when it is performed according to the rubric it is a masterly manifestation of restrained and elevated social solidarity.
You need to experience the noble and moving sight of the Eastern way of offering the kiss of peace to understand what Guardini is saying here! You witness a ritual-within-a-ritual, with men, heavy with vestments, bowing, giving each other a stylized gesture of embrace — rather than a break in the ritual which the kiss of peace has become.
This is of great importance. It is hardly necessary to point out what would be the infallible consequences of attempting to transmit the consciousness of their fellowship in the liturgy directly from one individual to another. The history of the sects teems with examples bearing on this point. For this reason the liturgy sets strict bounds between individuals. But individuals in their quality of distinct corporeal entities do not among themselves intrude upon each other's inner life.
Guardini goes so far as to say that “it is this reserve alone which in the end makes fellowship in the liturgy possible”! That is very contrary to what we've been taught to think. Yet, without restraint, we end in vulgarity, which is a topic we will hit upon often in this discussion.
Look at it this way: There is very little in life that is elevated, that offers both expression and reserve. In our modern times, where do we experience what he calls “etiquette,” but what we might think of as courtesy… the courtliness of the manners of one in the house of the King?
If there is something deep within each person that seeks to offer lofty reverence, where will he find the opportunity, if not in the Liturgy? Yet, he will still seek it, for it is part of his nature. The fact that he will never stop looking for it should give us pause if we are considering that it doesn't belong in the Liturgy.
Angelique says
In my area I think there is a big problem with the focus being on ” be a good Catholic, get involved!” Rather than ” be a saint, seek God’s will!” It completely forgets about the homebound and disabled, for one thing, and can lead to some spiritually dangerous situations, imho. For example a woman of our parish was held up as a public example for being involved in three different ministries despite being a single mom with school-aged children…all I could think of is, when does she find any time to be a family for her kids?
Also, as a major introvert, the more artificial “fellowship” I’m forced to endure during Mass, the faster I want to go home when it’s all done. But there, I sound like a crank, so maybe I’d better go read it again with a view to my own faults rather than others. :/
Lisa G. says
It’s easy to sound or feel like a crank – :). The first line of this chapter got me – the “We”, which I had forgotten about. I read it before last Sunday mass, and consequently felt almost resentful during mass because we are saying “I”. Human nature, unfortunately, and a constant struggle. 🙂
Leila says
Lisa, when do you mean?
Lisa G. says
Leila, I mean in the Creed. Isn’t that what he was talking about?
Mrs. B. says
Lisa, the Creed is one of those things that has to be first person. If you remember, it was the old translation that had the “We”, but it was corrected. It falls under the exceptions that Guardini mentions right there: it’s a personal statement of faith.
So now you can enjoy that “I” fully! 🙂
Lisa G. says
Ah! I knew it used to be that way, and supposed it must have been the better way.
Leila says
Lisa, here is an explanation of the change to “I” — it is the correct translation of the Latin.
http://www.diocesefwsb.org/Data/Resources/814db8e48f430c57449fe00375d64206-Article-8-Creed-Part-I.pdf
Remember, Guardini was writing in 1918. Long before the Mass was in the vernacular at all. He is saying that our attitude must be “we” — he is criticizing the notion that we enter the Liturgy to relate SOLELY to God, and not to our fellow man.
Lisa G. says
Thank you. For many years I was attending a Sunday Mass in Polish. If I went to Mass during the week, the Creed was of course not said.
Leila says
Angelique, “ministries” in the church are all too easy to get busy with! It all comes of a deformation of the idea of “active participation.” We’ll discuss that more later…
I like your point about how unfair it is to those who simply can’t move about, but of course, even able-bodied people have other things to do — important things, things that have them moving about the kingdom, on their Father’s business. And the interior life, too, is what many of the busy people are surviving on! The interior lives of those who seem not to “contribute.”
If every faithful person tried to find some “ministry” in the church, there would be a terrible crowd… and we aren’t supposed to be IN the church (other than for worship)! We are supposed to be out in the world, and in our homes.
Juanita says
This reminds me a lot of last lent’s personal reading, “Abandonment to Divine Providence.” In it, de Caussade speaks about God’s will in any given moment is to do the tasks appropriate to your vocation and station in life. For me, that meant resigning as a catechist, scaling back in the women’s ministry, and spending more time on the laundry, the dishes, and the nightly read-aloud. It is hard because I have received many comments about neglecting the parish, but my first duty is to my vocation. That is the job God gave me. Thank you for the affirmation.
Leila says
Juanita, I would go further. I would say that you *are* serving the Church (of which the parish is the local representation, but by no means, as Guardini says in Chapter One and at the beginning of this chapter, the only manifestation) precisely by doing your duties and devoting yourself to your vocation.
If all the devoted people crowd into the church to let each other know how busy they are, who will be left to witness to the world?
If you are so busy at the parish hall, who will have that talk with your neighbor? Who will take a meal to the family down the street? Who will be at the playground and have a little conversation with a child about God? And who will *just be there* at home with your own children and your own hard-working husband?
Honestly, the programs at the churches are keeping us so busy that we don’t have time left to do the real things that make the world know God.
Angelique says
Have any of you read “The Midnight Dancers” by Regina Doman? This issue is part of the plot.
Ivy says
I understand what Guardini is saying here and find it very refreshing, especially given my Protestant background. I wholeheartedly believe that my place is in my home and reject the busy-ness of running between activities.
My question is if the local Catholic church is not to be a sort of social base, how are we going to find good friends for our kids, like minded people to support us, etc, etc. Are we just saying that this is not the role of the church? Is this where you would suggest things like St. Gregory Pockets?
Leila says
Ivy, the local parish usually will become a social base — if it is left to develop organically.
Here are two factors that are keeping it from becoming a good place to have friendships (without being an *exclusive* place of friendship, mind):
1. The trend towards consolidating parishes and relying on people’s willingness to drive or resignation about driving. Parishes should be small, and they can be if they are not thought of as “religious activity centers.” Big parishes are known ultimately to drive down attendance and community.
2. The proliferation of programs. Programs don’t further friendship. They further… programs.
If there is a school associated with the parish, it will provide a good way for the community to socialize, as long as it doesn’t model the public school and take over everyone’s life.
As usual, if we remain content with something humble, we get something amazing. If we try to make everything bigger, better, and more encompassing, we lose the real value of it and end up spending all our time keeping it running.
Polly says
It is so refreshing to read this. I’ve not yet tackled the next chapter, but just reading your comment…..my husband is literally having to STOP going to worship at our church because he became so burned-out with the “activities” he had dedicated himself to doing (because, frankly, very few other people would). He would walk into church on Sunday morning with a running list of things he had to deal with while he was there! And I never think of us as “busy” but he got so committed to all of these programs. At a tiny church the bodies who are willing and able are few, and he is very willing, very able, and now….very burned-out.
I am spending time now mulling over this idea of vocation as it relates to him. I find it easy to decline activities and obligations because my vocation is so clear to me (motherhood!). But perhaps that’s a harder concept for a man to embrace-particularly in a career-oriented culture. Hmm. I think I will start the conversation with him–it may help him begin to determine how to make choices on this point in the future.
Mrs. B. says
Leila, this morning I happened upon an article about Archbishop Sample, in which he recalls something Pope Benedict once said to him: If we don’t have the liturgy, what do we have?
I thought I was the only one feeling awkward when a priest invites everyone to turn around and say hello to those sitting nearby… Now you’ve given me a lofty reason for the feeling, other than my shyness!
My favorite lines you wrote today are those about following obediently the lead of the Church, and mourn when she mourns and rejoice when she rejoices – in a word, to live according to rhythm of the liturgy, a submission that reminds us how we’re not the center of the universe. There is ample space for freedom, and creativity, and personal details, but, as Guardini says, it’s with the help of the liturgy that we can “live in common with the other members of Christ’s Body.”
Two things jumped at me while reading this second chapter. While reading the paragraphs where he reflects on the proper relationship between the individual and the religious community, I thought that he could be very well be speaking of the family as well, and in fact he does include “any other” kind of community. The elements of sacrifice, production and humility are also at the core of family relationships. I’m afraid it is not a coincidence that both liturgy and family are in crisis these days.
Another thought I had is that Guardini is saying that if we want to have proper liturgy, we need to approach it with a certain interior disposition that may not necessarily match our natural inclinations, and we have to accept this, and yield. This is the answer to people who say they don’t go to church because they don’t get anything out of it. The book is telling us that this proper interior disposition has to be learned. If I go to a college class on molecular chemistry without knowing anything at all about it, of course I’ll come out saying I didn’t get anything out of it: it was foolish of me to think I was ready for it with no prior effort required, and it would be foolish for me to dismiss molecular chemistry just because I didn’t get anything out of it. I think the same is true for the liturgy.
There are “external” things that need to be learned, for instance the structure of the Mass, or of the Divine Office; but most importantly we must learn the faith and the considerations that generated those structures, so we can conform to them, and avoid the two extremes Guardini describes (the man with the individualistic disposition and the man with the social disposition). If we don’t interiorize these elements, the liturgy remains something wholly outside ourselves, a ceremony we take part in only mechanically: we follow instructions, we imitate what those around us do. This will never affect us: we are there but not really there.
I would like to see the Church spending a lot more energy in teaching us about these things: it can’t be fully left to the individual. Yes, we’re all personally responsible for the deepening of our faith, but we need help! I guess something like the Catechism is part of the answer, but it must be made alive. I wonder if Guardini would agree that the liturgy itself is the answer too: proper liturgy will teach us how to be really there, if we’re willing to be taught. Again, maybe all the Church is asking us is to be humble, obedient, and take the hand she offers us…
Leila says
Mrs. B, good thought about the family. So true. We keep our personality but we learn to live together, to put the others first. We don’t live in isolation, ever. And we don’t take away the others’ interiority either.
As to “getting something out if it,” so true. Of course, there are some things one can study (this book! the structure of the Mass!), and should. And yes, participating is how we learn. And if it’s all offered to us in its fullness, we will learn better!
For instance, if saints’ feasts are celebrated regularly, we come to learn their virtues and that this is a marvelous way to learn them. When the propers are read or sung (preferably sung), we learn the nuances of the seasons — that Lent isn’t one idea about penance, but many shades of ideas and many experiences from one end of the desert to the other, ending on the Cross.
Year by year, we learn… we can’t be impatient, except for the gift to be given!
Mrs. B. says
Well, I thought of books, too, but then again, some people will read, others won’t, and even those who do read will have different levels of understanding. In the Middle Ages the Church thought stained glass windows and paintings and architecture were good teaching tools: beauty can teach, too!
I totally agree with your point about the important role of the Propers – there are prayers in the liturgy that are real gems. When I was growing up I used to follow Mass in a sort of autopilot, until one Sunday I happened to pay attention to the Collect prayer, and it was so beautiful and meaningful and full of truth that it was like a mini-conversion for me.
Robin says
Yes, yes, yes! The “forced fellowship” is one of the things that had me searching for something else when I discovered the Church. Also, the view that if you weren’t coming to all of the church services, (never mind that you and your husband both taught a class and were there every Sunday morning), you were made to feel you were not a good Christian. I knew the dread I felt every Sunday was not what true worship should feel like. I thank God everyday that He brought us home to the Catholic Church where “the union of the members is not directly accomplished from man to man. It is accomplished by and in their joint aim, goal, and spiritual resting place — God — by their identical creed, sacrifice and sacraments “.
Theresa Anne says
First, thank you for this study. The reading is definitely a stretch for me and that is good. In reading this, I realize how I have been lured into a false sense of the purpose and meaning of Mass. There have been little things that have tapped on my conscience and reading this is bringing to light some of my thinking that is wrong. The reading in this week’s section has opened my eyes to the fact that I do in fact like the social aspect and I have been guilty of thinking that everyone should be more fully involved in a visible way. I am embarrassed to admit I have even been putting pressure (slight, but pressure nonetheless) on my sweet husband to be an usher because our parish is begging for ushers. So much to learn….
Leila says
Theresa Anne, my feeling is that the young males and the retired guys can be ushers.
The dads in the midst of raising a numerous family — with the busyness of work and social obligations entailed — require a real rest on Sunday.
I’m sure there are those super-gregarious guys who love it, and that’s fine. But I would venture to say that most busy dads are happy to sit in the pew and have a chance to pray — and that their children need to see that.
Theresa Anne says
What resonates with me here is your comment that busy dads “require a real rest on Sunday”. When I suggested that my husband volunteer to usher his response was he felt like he should but then said “I hesitate because then when I go to Mass it will be like one more job”. So grateful for this insight and the wisdom to save him from feeling like he has one more job.
Janet says
Leila, did you read this column from Msgr. Charles Pope?
http://www.ncregister.com/blog/msgr-pope/the-mass-should-be-our-refuge-from-these-loud-proud-and-flashy-times
“First of all, auditory silence is not the same as spiritual silence. Our conversation with God is not of the auditory kind, it is a communication at the level of the heart. In fact, audible sound can interfere with this deeper conversation.”
I have always found this as especially true when the congregation is encouraged to sing during distribution of Communion.
Eileen says
Me too Janet. I miss the time after Holy Communion where there was silence. For. 5. minutes.
Nancy says
Guardini states on page 16 how it is difficult for people to renounce independence as we take part in the richly developed systems of prayers, actions, and rituals. Yet, Guardini finds that modern people are perfectly ready to give up their independence in the areas of state and commercial. Although the author is writing this before Vatican II, how much this is in action today! Again in this chapter, Guardini brings our attention to the restraint, the elevated, individual dispositions that can create social solidarity through the liturgy. Currently I am in a parish that claps during mass at inappropriate times, sings inappropriate songs, people conversing in normal conversations in the pews before mass begins, etc. I find it all very distracting, & not ELEVATED. It may be time to make a decision.
Eileen says
I experience the same things at Mass Nancy. I don’t clap. When someone comes up to me in church and begins to talk, I lead them outside since folks are praying. I think some folks just don’t know that they are causing a disturbance when they chat in church.
Janette says
I love all of this. Ever since reading Ratzinger’s Spirit of the Liturgy a few years ago, I can’t get enough reading about the Mass when I have time. There are definitely new-to-me concepts in this book and things I’ve heard but in a different light. It just makes sense. I just wish all Catholics would be able to see the Holy Mass for what it is. Thanks for this study, Leila. I’m thoroughly enjoying it!
Eileen says
Excellent chapter. I gotta work on the “sacrifice” part of my expectations when I walk in the door at church.
I also need to stop being so distracted by other people around me. I try to focus on the stained glass windows or the painting of the crucifix behind the altar to get my head back in the Mass. I am much better at serving and social activities than at contemplation. Working on that too. This book helps. Also reading the Diary of St. Faustina has helped me get my head in a peaceful place.
Racheal says
I grew up non-denominational protestant, and the weight of coming up with a right response to others and to God fell squarely on each individual’s own shoulders. It was exhausting and terrifying to me, especially as I grew in knowledge of my faith. So I am struck by the end of this chapter and his mention of etiquette fitting for the courts of God- I craved to know this but we had no example by which to learn. There is such comfort in the requirements and safeguards found in good manners!