So the baby was thrown out with the bathwater, huh?

I just had an uncomfortable and very heated discussion (possibly classified as an argument) with my DRE about plenary indulgences during the the week of All Saints' Day. I feel a huge rant coming on, but I don't really have time right now, so I'll suffice to say: Vatican II did NOT "get rid" of indulgences. Indulgences, while they've been abused in the past, are a beautiful, good thing, and part of Church Teaching.

Or, as Padre Pio once said, "We must empty Purgatory with our prayers."

GAH.

::headdesk::
::headdesk::
::headdesk::

Lord, grant me patience and serenity and humility.

The Young Fogey and the Spirit of Vatican II, 2.0

I just discovered that my director of religious education, technically my boss, is a member of Call to Action.

::headdesk::

Friday keeps sneaking up on me!

Whoa, it's been a long time since I did one of these!! Thanks, as always, to Jen, our hostess with the mostest. 

--1--

The beginning of the school year is almost here!  I haven’t been a full-time student in sixteen months, but I’m still excited about the newness September brings.  As Tom Hanks so adorably says in You’ve Got Mail, “Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.” 

 --2--

On the other hand, the close proximity of the fall means I need to put the final touches on my religious ed curriculum, finish shamelessly begging asking people to be catechists, and firm up the calendar.  Yikes!

 --3--

I have come to really, really, love the simplicity of daily Mass.  It’s so… easy to focus.  A priest, two dozen older people, one altar boy, the lady who lectors, and me.  It’s also nice to know that everyone is there because they want to be, not because they felt they had to come.  No one texts during the homily. No one sprints for the door after Communion.  Everyone reverences the tabernacle. It’s refreshing.   This probably means I’m just not charitable enough toward the “typical” parishioners who won’t come to Mass if it means missing the Packer pre-game show.  Clearly, I need to pray for humility.  Speaking of which....

 --4--

The Litany of Humility is awesome.  And, appropriately, very humbling.  Written by Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (Secretary of State for Pius X, whose memorial is today!) he used to recite it after each time he celebrated Mass.  But it's also a darn good way to start the day and remind myself that I am not, in fact, the most important person in the universe.  

--5--

I went to another wedding last weekend. It was a beautiful ceremony, but I acutely felt something lacking.  My friend married a wonderful Lutheran man.  They had a Catholic wedding but not a Mass.  It felt so….empty without the Eucharist to complete the symbolism of marriage.  

--6--

My mother and I had an actual conversation about religion, which hasn’t happened since I became Catholic two years ago.  She mentioned that she doesn’t miss the Eucharist at all, and is so much more “fed” by the good preaching at the Presbyterian church she and my dad attend.  I know God touches each of us differently…. but I wanted to weep.  The Sunday Gospels have all been from John 6 recently.  The Bread of Life discourse from 6:22-71 is *the* defining reason I love being Catholic.  I’m simply flabbergasted that my mother, with her years of Catholic education, considers the Eucharist to be negligible.  It makes me so sad for her, and mad at her catechists and professors. Sad and mad.  Smad.

 --7--

I’m starting St. Faustina’s Divine Mercy in my Soul this week, and  I’m prepared for some serious spiritual butt-kicking.  I think I love St. Faustina so much because she was overlooked and under appreciated.  Like St. Bernadette, everyone thought Faustina was stupid, and no one took her visions seriously at first.  Despite all the things she endured, she was always humble and always loving.  I need to be more like her. 

......and I'm out!  

GIRM Warfare: Part Two

There are few things in Satan's military arsenal more upsetting than the monstrosity that is the Polka Mass.

(alright, alright, things like genocide, abortion, slavery, blasphemy, adultery, and a few others are trillions of times worse.  But good Lord.)

This summer, due to many different comedies of errors involving traveling, mixing up Mass times, and oversleeping, I've been subjected to *three* Polka Masses.  The all had varying degrees of hokeyness and irreverence, but regardless of the band's talent, the congregation's degree of participation, or the popularity of the concept, all three had something in common: they were liturgies where I received Jesus in the Eucharist but spent most of the Mass trying desperately not to groan or hiss.  I slipped up a few times.  Last Sunday when the Umpa Band began playing "Peace Like a River" in lieu of the Agnus Dei, I did audibly hiss.  The woman next to me stared.  I gave her a sheepish apologetic smile before muttering under my breath, "Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi...."

The most ironic thing is that all the parishes where I suffered through experienced a Polka Mass normally have beautiful, reverent, appropriate Novus Ordo liturgies.  They were a beacon of hope that the "Spirit of Vatican II" and her liturgical dancers, clowns, 261 Eucharistic Ministers, and stand-up comic priests were on the outs.  

Where did this tradition come from?  I know it's a very Wisconsin thing, since there are lots of people here with Polish heritage.  I was talking to a friend about this, and he said, "A few years ago the pastor [a more traditional fellow] tried to abolish the yearly Polka Mass but people howled.  So he moved it to Saturday afternoon, where most of its fans [ie, elderly people] are anyway."

The Polka Mass, and its fellow liturgy-abusing cousins, is deeply troubling to me because it reflects a fundamental problem with how we see liturgy.  A Mass that reminds me of a beer hall is not one where I feel like I'm in heaven.  A Mass where liturgical dancers float up and down the aisle reminds me of an elementary school dance recital, not the Lamb of God.  A Mass where the priest tries to be a folksy stand-up comedian during the homily reminds me of a high school talent show, not the Communion of Saints.  In all these cases, liturgy becomes about "us" and not about "Him."  I don't know whether the GIRM precisely forbids themed Masses (probably not), but something like this-- where the form severely detracts from the meaning -- can't be good.

I've just finished reading Seraphic Goes to Scotland's hilarious and informative "Secrets of the Trid Mass" (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four).  While I do love Novus Ordo when it's done well, I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't make the effort to check out a TLM every now and then, just to comprehend what my grandparents' Mass experience was like.  I don't think I'll become a regular TLM-er, nor do I believe that we should revert solely to Extraordinary Form, but I do appreciate Papa B's motu proprio which gives us the opportunity.  Time to buy a mantilla!

 

MASH

When I was a little girl, one of the most popular things to do on inside-recess days was to play MASH. The object, of course, was to predict your future- who you'd marry, what career you'd have, where you'd live. The name comes from Mansion Apartment House Shack, the four options for living. Clearly, living in a Shack was the least desirable option.

Fifteen years later, The Shack is still not a great choice. This time, however, I'm referring to the runaway bestseller by William Young. A co-worker lent it to me a few weeks ago and I've yet to open it, mostly because I don't have time, and also because I've heard many less-than-glowing reviews of it, from both orthodox Catholic sources and Protestant ones.

I'm inherently suspicious of any pop-religion themed book, because they tend to be shallow at best and heretical at worst. Maybe I'm a snob, but I prefer to read things like the Bible, the Catechism, G.K. Chesterton, or Papa B16. Bubble-gum, empty-calorie theology just doesn't cut it for me.

This week Adoro wrote two great posts on the book - not the book itself, which she hasn't read, but the reasons we shouldn't.

First: Conduit to our Souls

And: The Importance of Authenticity and Truth

Additionally, last year Catholic Exchange gave a review, as did Paragraph Farmer. USA Today even did a piece on the controversy.

I think Adoro sums it up nicely, "Theologically, then, if you don't know a lot, and sincerely want to learn, and someone hands you a book full of errors, well, you're going to go on internalizing those errors. You're going to pass them on, and in the end, not only will your "patient" be spiritually dead...but so will you. And you'll propagate that error more quickly than Ebola or Swine Flu."

So I'll be staying out of The Shack.

Reason #19,273 why I love Papa B16

"Wherever applause breaks out in the liturgy because of some human achievement, it is a sure sign that the essence of liturgy has totally disappeared and been replaced by a kind of religious entertainment. " (Spirit of the Liturgy p. 198)

Hat tip to Fr. Z.

St. Paul was not a hippie

It’s June, and the official end of the 2008-2009 Year of St. Paul is close at hand.  It’s been a great year- I’ve seen and heard of lots of Pauline Bible studies, prayer cards, workshops, and such.  All of them are great.  We had a terrific Pauline series at the Norbertine Center for Spirituality, my favorite of which was Sr. Diane’s lecture on “Paul and Women.”  If you think about it, St. Paul is probably the most important figure of Christianity aside from Jesus himself.  Thanks to his many letters, we know more about Paul and his life than anyone else in the Bible, including Jesus.  Along with St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, Paul’s writings have been the foundation for most of Christian theology.  Augustine and Aquinas were standing on his shoulders, though, so it really comes down to St. Paul.  Most of his letters were written before the Gospels, and were widely circulated long before the canon was established at a little seaside town called Laodicea in 360 AD. 

And yet, the poor guy gets kind of a bad rap. 

Some of Prog Cath’s favorite verses are of Pauline origin.  Many people love quoting Paul, especially when they say things like, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28).  Another favorite is “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)  These sort of [out-of-context] snapshots, along with Paul’s occupation as a traveling tentmaker/evangelist who fought The Man might leave us with the idea that Paul was all about love and flower power, granola and co-ops, Woodstock and women’s ordination. 

Um, no.

Paul was a hardass.  Paul had no problem telling it like it is and getting in trouble for it.  He was frequently stoned, expelled from towns, put in prison, rioted against,  and generally made lots of people angry for speaking the truth and writing things like, “If anyone does not obey our word as expressed in this letter, take note of this person not to associate with him, that he may be put to shame. Do not regard him as an enemy but admonish him as a brother.” (2 Thessalonians 3:14-15) or “Keep watch over yourselves and over the whole flock of which the holy Spirit has appointed you overseers, in which you tend the church of God that he acquired with his own blood.  I know that after my departure savage wolves will come among you, and they will not spare the flock.  And from your own group, men will come forward perverting the truth to draw the disciples away after them.” (Acts 20:28-30)

I don’t even know if I would have been friends with St. Paul, had we been contemporaries.  I would have admired him, supported him, and welcomed him into my house (like Lydia, Phoebe, or Prisca), but I’m not sure I could have a nice cup of coffee with the guy and catch up on the news of the day and the goings-on of all our friends. He just doesn’t strike me as a bubbly coffee-klatcher.  

But he *definitely* wasn’t a hippie.