Liturgy Reflections

Ordinary Time...

The Church year has four distinctive seasons, each with a distinctive character, that celebrate a specific mystery of Christ. The seasons are those of Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter. The rest of the year, either thirty three or thirty four weeks, is called Ordinary Time - not ordinary in the sense that there is nothing special celebrated during these weeks, but only in the sense that this time is not a liturgical season. Ordinary Time begins on the Monday after the Christmas season comes to an end. Then in a few weeks Lent begins, and Ordinary Time will not resume until about ninety days later, after the Easter season, on the Monday following Pentecost Sunday. Ordinary Time ends with the Saturday before the first Sunday of Advent. 

Those who pay attention to the numbering of the Sundays and weeks of Ordinary Time are often confused, and justifiably so. It must seem that the committee who designed Ordinary Time after the Second Vatican Council either never double-checked their design, or else their design was a compromise among members who could not agree on a final configuration for the new liturgical calendar. For example, the Christmas season ends with the Sunday celebration of the Baptism of the Lord. The next day ordinary time begins, but the following Sunday is called the Second Sunday of ordinary time. What happened to the First Sunday of Ordinary Time? The official liturgical books are content merely to explain that “The feast of the Baptism of the Lord takes the place of the First Sunday of Ordinary Time.”

 The centerpiece of Ordinary Time is, of course, its Sundays. The Sunday scripture readings are in a three-year cycle. Thus the readings we hear proclaimed next Sunday will not be heard again until the year 2017. As on all the other Sundays of the year, there are four scriptural readings, including the psalm which is normally sung. The first reading has a relationship to the gospel of the day, whereas the second reading usually contains a theme independent of the first reading and the gospel.

 This year we are in the first of our three-year cycle, called Year A. The three year cycle of Sunday readings, and the two year cycle of weekday readings, are a happy result of the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Prior to the Council, the same daily readings were repeated year after year. The cycles of readings allow many more scripture readings to be heard over the course of three years. This liturgical year we will be hearing readings from the gospel of Matthew at least thirty-two times. We begin with Jesus’ ministry in Galilee and we will end with his words on the Last Judgment. 

As always, we gather in church from week to week, no matter whether it be in Ordinary Time or in one of the great liturgical seasons, to celebrate the paschal mystery, the mystery of Christ’s dying and rising. So in a very real sense there is no time that is “ordinary.” As we proclaim in our prayer each year at the great Easter Vigil, “All time belongs to Christ and all the ages.”

Rubricism...

Rubrics refer to the red print found in the official liturgical books. Unlike the scripture and prayer texts that are said aloud, rubrics are the instructions on how the rite is to be celebrated. The Scripture and prayer texts are printed in black, and to distinguish them, the rubrics are printed in red (“rubrics” is from a Latin word meaning “red”). Rubricism is a scrupulous regard for following the directives and instructions to the last detail. There is certainly nothing wrong with following instructions and directives precisely, but there is something wrong when obsessive behavior in this regard blinds one to the deeper and more profound meaning of the

liturgical rites.

 

 

Bishop Richard J. Skilba, writing in the Milwaukee Catholic Herald, says that rubricism means “such an obsessive and driven preoccupation with the directives in red print as to risk losing sight of the Eucharist’s main purpose. The primary goal of the sacraments, especially the Eucharist which is the source and summit of the church’s life, is sharing in the death and resurrection of the Lord and in Christ’s praise of the Father which is accomplished in the new creation of God’s people by divine grace and mercy.

 

“While rubrics are important, they can also become obstacles to God’s grace if taken out of context or given exclusive attention. For that reason the Council also included a solemn warning: ‘Pastors of souls must also realize that, when the liturgy is celebrated, more is required than the mere observance of the laws governing valid and licit celebration. It is their duty also to ensure that the faithful take part knowingly, actively and faithfully.’”

 

Perhaps our traditional Thanksgiving Day meal is most analogous to the ritual meal of the Eucharist. On Thanksgiving Day we gather as family communities around a table to remember certain important things, to give our heartfelt thanks, and to cherish the relationships that are represented at the table as well as our relationships with those who are not able to be present. There are such things as table manners - rules we follow that help the meal go smoothly and assure that the ritual, handed down by many people before us, will be celebrated now and passed on to future generations substantially unchanged. But imagine if certain individuals became obsessed with correct table manners, to the point that the act of thanksgiving and the solidarity between participants became secondary. The color of the tablecloth, the material from which the cups are fashioned, or who assists in carving the turkey are simply not as important as the common act of thanksgiving and the nourishing of the bonds between the participants at table.

 

Bishop Skilba concludes, “These things I as a bishop worry about, given today’s increasing focus on correct rubrics as if they were the means to salvation, rather than as an occasion for God’s loving mercy. Keep an eye on the mystery, not merely the pathway to it.”

 

The meals of Jesus...

It goes without saying that one must have some basic knowledge and understanding of the Last Supper if one is going to begin to appreciate the meaning of the Eucharist. It is there, after all, that Jesus blessed bread and wine, gave it to his friends, saying that this was his body and blood given for them, and that when they repeated this ritual meal in the future, they should do it in his memory. But scriptures tell us that the other meals of Jesus can add important dimensions of meaning to the Eucharist as well. After all, it seems that every time we hear of Jesus eating a meal with someone, transformation happens. People’s lives are changed. During these meals, Jesus manifests his mission, his power, and his glory.

 

 

 

 There are the times that Jesus is invited to meals. He seemed most willing to accept the invitations of friends, of officials and of the poor. Invited to the wedding feast at Cana, Jesus shows us a bit of the mystery of his personality, and we have recorded in that story the first of Jesus’ signs that he is the awaited One. On another occasion Jesus is invited to Matthew’s home. Here transformation happens as Jesus himself takes on the role of the host, welcoming into his embrace Matthew the tax collector and anyone else like him who is pushed to the margins of society. 

 

The table of Simon the Pharisee becomes the place of forgiveness and reconciliation, as there a public sinner sheds tears of repentance, and other table participants must take regard of their own consciences. At the home of Martha and Mary we learn how important it is to hear Jesus, as we are busy about so many other things. And there is the meal in a Pharisee’s home on the sabbath when Jesus heals a man, revealing perhaps that one should not sit at a plentiful table without concern for those who are poor and inflicted.

 

The list of the meals Jesus shared with others must include the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves. Here Jesus is seen as the one who recognizes the hungers of people, and who therefore nourishes those hungers. This meal setting unquestionably suggests the mystery of the Eucharist. Indeed John, in his gospel, follows the account of the miracle with Jesus’ discourse on the bread of life - a kind of theological explanation of the meaning of the multiplication.

 

Finally there are the meals Jesus shares with people after his resurrection, when the disciples are still hesitant in their faith. These shared meals are meant to convince the disciples that Jesus is indeed risen. So the two disciples who walked with him on the road to Emmaus recognize him in the breaking of the bread (one of the most ancient names for the Mass). Later, “while they were at table” he reproaches the Eleven for their unbelief. He then would invite the belief of other disciples by inviting them to breakfast on the beach. 

 

One thing is common to all the meals of Jesus that are recorded for us in the scriptures. Jesus is seen as the one who recognizes our hungers - not our hunger for ordinary food, but hunger for belonging, for light and healing, for justice, for forgiveness and reconciliation. Jesus, the one who identifies himself as the Bread of Life, is the one who nourishes our deepest hungers.

The Liturgy of the Word...

The Church’s liturgical books describe the Mass as composed basically of two parts: the liturgy of the Word and the liturgy of the Eucharist. The liturgy of the Word includes the scriptural readings and psalm of the day, the homily, the profession of faith and the general intercession prayers. In liturgy, God’s word always has primacy, and so no liturgical action, whether it be the ordination of a bishop or something as simple as the blessing of a rosary, should take place without some form of proclamation of God’s word coming first. As an example, the Church’s official blessing for fishing gear begins with a suggested reading from Matthew’s gospel telling of the storm at sea in which Jesus is seen as the master of the winds and the waves. So the basic pattern of any liturgical act is this: God first speaks to us, then we make our human response.

 

 The celebration of the eucharist in the earliest decades included a real supper, a similar structure to that of the Last Supper. Eventually, as the churches grew, this real supper became problematic, and was eventually abandoned. This left the participants with just the essentials of taking bread and wine, saying the blessing, and distributing Christ’s body and blood to all at table. This probably seemed too short a service to satisfy the religious feelings of the community. Consequently over time other elements were added to this basic eucharistic liturgy. These added elements would include the sharing of letters, communications, and greetings from neighboring communities, and especially from the founders of the community (the apostles or other missionaries). Also Jewish Christians would eventually stop attending synagogue services, but certainly the reading and preaching of God’s word that were central to synagogue services would help to shape the emerging liturgy of the word in the Christian Sunday liturgy.

 

From what historical records we have, we know that the earliest Christian liturgies of the word resembled those of the Jewish communities. St. Justin Martyr, for example, describes the liturgy as it was celebrated in the middle of the second century. He tells us that there were two readings, a sermon, and a closing prayer. Justin does not mention singing, but on this point we have unexpected evidence from a pagan witness, Pliny the Younger, governor of Bithynia, a Roman colony in Asia Minor. In a letter to his friend Emperor Trajan, he reports that he had sent an observer to see what Christians do at their Sunday liturgy. The observer reported that Christians are accustomed to gathering before dawn and begin by singing a hymn to Christ as their God.

 

The basic structure of the Mass and its liturgy of the word remain the same today. God first speaks the creative and saving word to us, then we utter our human response. The marvel, of course, is that God’s word is creative. Something wonderful always happens when God speaks. Isaiah explains it poetically in God’s words: “For as the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I intend, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

Lent and the stages of initiation...

One of the chief purposes of Lent is to remind us of the meaning of our own baptism, and to unite ourselves in prayer and support for those preparing for the Easter initiation sacraments. The rite for bringing new members into the Church is called The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. This rite, which virtually disappeared from use around the sixth century, was restored to the Church by mandate of the Second Vatican Council. Previously, adults were simply instructed in the faith and baptized with a simple ritual, often not celebrated in the presence of the rest of the community. The restored rite assumes more than catechism instruction and much more than the ritual of baptism with water. The restored rite is ideally celebrated over the period of one year, preferably beginning before Lent of one year and extending through Easter of the following year.

 

 

The rite is actually a sequence of periods and steps. The steps are a collection of rituals that are celebrated in behalf of the candidates for baptism and meant to express the support of the community. The first period is that of evangelization and the precatechumenate. This is a time, of no fixed duration or structure, for people to ask questions, to become acquainted with gospel values, and may even mark the very beginnings of faith. The step celebrated in this period is the formal acceptance into the order of catechumens. Here the candidates express their intention to respond to God’s call to follow the way of Christ, and the Church gladly accepts their good intentions.

 

There follows the period of the catechumenate, a time for the nurturing and growth of the catechumen’s faith and conversion to God. This journey toward faith and conversion is assisted during this period by celebrations of the word and by prayers of exorcism and blessing. Within this period comes the second step: election. This ritual, ideally celebrated around the first Sunday of Lent, formally ratifies the catechumens’ readiness for the sacraments. The catechumens, now called “the elect,” express publicly their will to receive the sacraments of initiation. The bishop normally leads this celebration.

 

The third period is that of purification and enlightenment. This would ordinarily be the season of Lent preceding the baptism of the elect. This is described as a time of reflection, intensely centered on conversion, marked by celebration of the scrutinies, which are rites for self-searching and repentance. The third step, celebrated during this period, is the liturgical rite of baptism, confirmation, and the eucharist. These sacraments of initiation are celebrated during the Easter Vigil liturgy.

 

The final period is called the period of postbaptismal catechesis or mystagogy. These perhaps unfamiliar words are simply meant to describe the time following the reception of the Easter sacraments of initiation. Here the newly initiated experience being fully a part of the Christian community. This would include further instruction or catechesis in various elements of the Catholic faith, and especially participation with all the faithful in the Sunday celebration of the eucharist. Ideally the newly baptized would continue to meet together periodically until the anniversary of their baptism.

Liturgy and Ethnic Diversity...

People who travel, I suspect, are well aware that, from place to place, there are marked differences in churches and worship styles. There are differences in dioceses as well. Some have large populations but few Catholics, while others have predominantly Catholics in the general population. Other dioceses have many towns and major cities, while others are known for their large unpopulated areas. Our own State of Washington stands out for a number of reasons. For one, the Northwest is quite low in terms of the number of citizens who are churchgoers. At the same time, we are rich in ethnic diversity. The last I heard, there are more than eighty languages spoken in our state. Such differences - particularly that of ethnic diversity - will most certainly impact the way we plan and celebrate our liturgies.

 

 

The Catholic Church’s official position in light of this increasing cultural diversity is, first of all, that all must be made to feel welcome. This is not always possible when elements familiar to particular cultural styles of worship are not to be found in one’s local parish. Language is a prime example. It is one thing to declare welcome and hospitality to Catholic Christians who do not understand English, but often an enormous challenge to provide liturgies in the languages that people can understand. In order to include all equally as members of the Body of Christ, the Church teaches that adaptations in the liturgical rites may be authorized, “especially in the case of the administration of the sacraments, the sacramentals, processions, liturgical language, sacred music, and the arts.” Thus certain elements “from the traditions and culture of individual peoples may be appropriately admitted into divine worship.”

 

The challenges we face with the reality of growing cultural diversity are enormous. The Asian and Hispanic population in our country has grown considerably in the last two decades. We know that a significant percentage of U.S. Catholic parishes now celebrate the liturgy in a language other than English. In the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, Mass is celebrated in more than fifty languages. How do we meet such challenges?

 

Fr. William Bausch, a priest from the diocese of Trenton, New Jersey, has written and lectured extensively on today’s pastoral challenges to healthy and inclusive Catholic parishes. He writes, “In past times, the Church typically met the immigrant presence by segregation, that is, by establishing separate, national parishes... Nowadays, we have a single parish trying to blend various ethnic groups into one sense of Church, and it is a formidable challenge to form relationships that transcend cultural differences. The parish must be able to recognize that the dominant ‘white’ culture, which is apt to be seen as central and normative, is operative in most parishes and, therefore, in need of adjustment. The parish must also avoid separate, parallel communities; learn intercultural communication; incorporate the language, music, food, and celebrations of the various ethnic groups into the fiber of the parish; provide hospitality as ‘they’ understand it, not we (‘have a nice day’ doesn’t cut it); and value the differences between the different cultures. All of these are enormous challenges that must be met.”