Saturday, November 01, 2003

 
The Vigil of the Saints

Today is the Solemnity of All Saints, or All Souls, a most important and beautiful point in the Liturgical Year. We are a few short weeks from the Feast of Christ the King, which ends the year, and then the year starts over with the pentitential season of Advent. We pause to remember that we are indeed "surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses," and that they are walking with God.

And with us, to help us and to lead us to the Vision of God, when "we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

All Souls, this year, turned out to be quite special.

I get a ridiculously large number of e-mail newsletters, it seems, but one that never fails to interest and inspire is the Zenit news agency from Rome. It provides a daily digest of Church activities both in Rome and around the world, with usually very instructive interviews with various experts.

I was pleasantly surprised to see an article about the Dominican House of Studies here in Washington, just across the street from where I teach. Five years ago, they revived an ancient Liturgy known as the Vigil of the Saints, and, the news account said, it had become the most popular event that the monastery holds. (Dominicans are monks, which means they take a vow of permanent residence at the house where they are assigned. The one here is quite large, with about 80 monks.)

As it happens, I had no work last night, and so after the Vigil Mass at the National Shrine, I went back to my office for 45 minutes and then walked over to find out what it was all about.

The Dominican House in Washington is a very English-looking place, and their chapel may be the most English-looking part of it. It is beautiful, with white plaster walls and beautifully carved wooden furniture. Typically, the only colors are white and brown, interrupted by the colors of the altar cloths and the officiating priest's vestments. And just as typically, the "choir," where the monks sit facing each other on either side of the altar, is much larger than the "public seating" outside the screen. They let the public into the choir for this. Every seat was filled, and many were standing in the halls outside.

The service itself was beautifully simple: after a moment of adoration, the lights were turned out, and various readings from the lives of the saints were read, punctuated by chanted responses. After that, we lit handheld candles and chanted the Night Prayer (Compline) that ends the liturgical day. At the end, as we processed to the monastery's reliquary (a very small display, actually), two monks chanted the Litany of the Saints. After each name, we all chanted, "pray for us." And that was it. It took a little more than an hour. But it was beautiful and moving.

Afterwards, there were light refreshments, the only concession to the secular traditions of halloween being an old favorite of mine, candy corn. After many years of not eating it, I must confess I realized it is just nothing by died sugar. Still, I could not avoid eating two mouthfuls.

This simple service inspired a few reflections. One is that it was extremely easy to do. The singing was not really that great, but it was fitting. The plainsong chant with which we recited Compline is very easy for even the inexperienced to do, and the chants by the monks were dignified, and appropriate, if not expertly executed. The very young diocesan priest sitting next to me was easily the best singer in the place, and he was just there with the rest of us. The hardest part seemed to be fitting the names of some martyrs and saints into the Litany, so the cantors stumbled, and everyone tried to supress smiles.

And for all its beings simple and dignified and very, very old-fashioned, the place was filled with young people. No doubt, many of them were going to ignore the fact that Compline is sung before you go to bed. None of us go to bed with the sun anymore, which they did when the monastic schedule was set, and even the schedule for the Dominican House seems to be less stringent than the old Medieval ideal. But young people are young, and the rock music blasting away quietly in the distance told us all that there were other things for the youngsters to do that evening. But they participated fully in the Liturgy.

The part about the schedule interests me, because the Dominicans have kept most of their traditions intact and you feel the difference when you enter the House. I myself find it preternaturally difficult to give myself a schedule and stick to it. Indeed, I dropped out of the Washington rat race and took on jobs that would force me to develop those skills, though it has taken a long time. As a bachelor, I am not forced into a schedule by those around me. While I make quiet fun of the excessive scheduling that is typical of the average Washington professional's normal routine, I myself take on far too much, with the result that my days are busy without always being full, and important things fall by the wayside.

Years ago, I started using the Liturgy of the Hours, the book of prayers that priests and monks use. The Holy Father has dedicated the last few years to encouraging laymen to use it. It divides the day into sections, sections that are not the same as society would like us to observe. "Glorious and powerful Lord," begins one of my favorite Italian hymns, "who alters the rhythms of time..." For someone like me, cast alone on the waves of life, the Liturgy forms a necessary anchor.

And last night, when everyone else was partying, we were adoring. As I said at the beginning, the Vigil of the Saintsfell into disuse, probably after Vatican II, probably because somebody "didn't see why" it was worth observing. God alters the rhythms of time, and we whould participate in that, that is why.

This has been driven home to me in the last two months, perhaps the hardest two months of my adult life. (And the troubles are not all over.) Nearly everything came unstuck, and I responded badly. I found myself sinking into a generalized depression and floundering. I was so distracted that I completely dropped the Liturgy of the Hours because the only thing I could concentrate on was the Rosary. (The lesson there was obvious: I had not made the Rosary part of my routine, as I should have, and that was partly for the prideful reason that I was using the Liturgy of the Hours. The Rosary began, it is felt, as a layman's version of the Rosary, though all Catholics should pray it. It sure is part of my life now. And just because you say it in the morning doesn't mean you can't repeat it at night: several nights when I simply could not sleep, I started a Rosary and fell asleep in the middle of it.)

Now that life has righted itself somewhat--and I made it to confession--I hunger again for the rhythm of the Liturgical Year. I actually asked my second employer to call me if they needed someone before I remembered the Vigil at the Dominicans. After I waited a suitable time--having offered to go, I felt responsible to give them time to respond--I e-mailed them that I had something else to do. And, after Mass, I was tempted not to go. But I did.

And it ignited something in me. After these two horrible months, I come back to a fuller observance of the Church Year more alive to its richness, and to the great mercy that it extends to us all. And I am grateful that there are people like the Dominicans with the boldness to be a "sign of contradiction," to have a schedule in keeping with God's designs, and not man's.
posted by A Mind That Suits 11:43 AM

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

 
This blog is to be given over to questions of spirituality and the Liturgy, not doctrine, but since I started down the doctrinal road I have to go to the end. This blog will resume in earnest with some concluding thoughts on the nature of Christian meditation, and on confession, and, with the Feast of Christ the King, will begin to follow the announced plan of discussing spirituality through the Church calendar.



Well, Mel Gibson Could Get My Intestines On a Stick, Probably Fried.

In a rather longish piece below, I discuss Mel Gibson's upcoming The Passion, which I personally expect to be magnficent. But in it, I discuss Mr. Gibson's form of Catholicism, which I find to be quasi-schismatic and harshly doctrinaire. As with so many Catholic archtraditionalists, he does not recognized the validity of recent changes, and seems very close to denying the validity of the last four Popes, or at least their teachings.


Over one particular doctrine, he says that he accepts the doctrine because it was spoken from the chair of St. Peter. That is, a Pope had spoken infallibly in pronouncing the doctrine to be true. I said that he showed admirable obedience, but, most importantly, I would find it more admirable if he extended it to the current occupant of that very Chair. On that point I remain adamant.

However, I also said that it may not be particulary well-informed because the doctrine had never been infallibly pronounced.

For no reason whatsoever, I decided to check on the status of that doctrine, and there I indeed found someone who wants to reassure us all that the doctrine in question--extra ecclesiam nulla salus (outside the Church, there is no salvation)--most emphatically has never been Catholic doctrine in the sense that one must be a member of the Cathoilc Church in order to get to heaven.

But then I discovered the existence of a group known as the Feeneyites, the followers of a priest named Feeney, who maintain that the Church has indeed taught that, most particularly in a papal document known as Unam Sanctam from 1302. And sure enough the author, Pope Boniface VII, says,

"i therefore declare, say, define" that it is necessary for "every creature" to be under the Roman Pontiff for salvation.

The Feeneyites, just to make sure, add an extra verb--"pronounce," though the Latin text I found online just has three. I will have to check that one a little more fully.

Well, now, whose obedience is ill-informed?

I must confess that I have learned a lot of my Catholic doctrine from supporters of this current Pope, and from the wonderful Catechism that he had written up. Also, a few years ago, the Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith published an admirable document called "Dominus Iesus." I was not a Catholic at the time, but nothing in it gave me pause. Indeed, it helped make clear to me that the Roman Church took its role as the guarantor of truth very seriously, and hastened me down a road I was already taking. (Links to be provided when I get to a PC.)

In that document, one finds the statement that Eastern Orthodox Churches "remain united to (the Roman Church) by means of the closest bonds, that is, by apostolic succession and a valid Eucharist," so they are indeed "true particular Churches" where the "Church of Christ is present and operative," despite their rejection of Papal primacy. It extends much less recognition to the Protestant Churches, of course, because they reject the Apostolic Succession and the Eucharist. In fact, it extends NO recognition to them as Churches. However, the MEMBERS of these Churches are 'by Baptism, incorporated in Christ."

Now Boniface had never heard of Protestantism, but he had most emphatically heard of the Orthodox, and Unam Sanctam, among other things, seems to be directed at them.

This Catholic is a most obedient Catholic, and if Mother Church says that Dominus Iesus is but a clarification of Unam Sanctam, then I accept that, but I admit that it is a hard circle to square. There are of course Protestants with anti-Catholic websites who figured this out long before I came to the party, and have even given the problem a name, 'the Unam Sanctam Contradiction."

It is interesting to note that the Council of Trent, the pre-eminent Council of the last 1000 years, did not seem to address this issue, as it was concerned with other things. The Feeneyites don't even cite it on their website. The Council Fathers were also a little more expansive on the mystery of savlation than was dear old Boniface, as they were concerned to answer the bold and stark Calvinist doctrine of "hard predestination."

I have to admit, I fit the image of the typical Catholic convert who knows much more about his Church than most cradle Catholics, but I actually would not claim that against Mr. Gibson, who bought the entire library of a closed convent and can at least function in Latin. (The script of the Passion was translated for him, so I have no idea of his level of expertise.) He is one spectacularly well-informed man, especially considering that he is largely an autodidact, and I herewith offer my apologies to him, and to my readers. I have pulled all the relevant documents issued by the Magisterium on this question, and you won't hear any more from me on this point until I wrestle with it a little longer.

For now, read this article by Ralph McInerny on Mother Anglica's website.

And don't miss Fr. Richard John Neuhaus's excellent discussions of Dominus Iesus by going to First Things and entering "Dominus Iesus" in the search engine. (Be sure to select only "The Public Square" as your search doman.)
posted by A Mind That Suits 8:45 PM