Approaching Incarnation - the O Antiphons Today

Gliding slowly through the last days of Advent....tomorrow evening,  the O Antiphons will begin - and we approach the great moment when God, having taken on the human condition at Jesus' conception, will travail into the world, born as the child of a human mother. In these antiphons, we remember the forbears, the history and meaning that inhabit salvation history, all  that has led up to the moment of the birth in Bethlehem.

(For a really good explanation of the history and meaning of the O Antiphons, check out this article at the CERC website )



So, what do they mean for us today? 


O Sapientia (O Wisdom) - our nation and indeed the whole world are crying out for wisdom in the face of war, financial meltdown, global warming, epidemics, health care debates, clashes over gay marriage, abortion, and more. Lord, help us to become single-hearted and wise in your ways, and less focused on the many opposing points of view.
O Adonai (O Lord) - in a post-modern age when all authority seems irrelevant, we need the stability of a being who always was and always will be. Lord, open our ears to hear your steady, reassuring voice amid the din of so many strident voices.
O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse) - in a culture where the elderly, the past and a sense of rootedness are all threatened by a mobile society seemingly bent on eliminating all connections except those we choose, we need to reconnect with our roots. Lord, connect us, through one another, through the Church throughout all time, to you.
O Clavis David (O Key of David) - as the fellow sinners of King David, our forefather in faith, we acknowledge that only God can turn our brokenness into possibility. Lord, help us move beyond our dark places so that we might cooperate in your great plan for us.
O Oriens (O Rising Sun) - we need the hope that comes from the Risen One who endured the night of suffering and death to rise again. Lord, free us to see the seeds of new life in our darkest moments, remembering that you showed us the way by your Paschal Mystery.
O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations) - the whole world seeks guidance and healing, the stability of your power to guide us. Lord, may we seek only to further your reign over the earth, when justice, peace and dignity will be shared by all.
O Emmanuel (God With Us) - you promised to be with us, even to the end of the age; we are so much greater, more loving, and more united with you than we are without you.  Lord, bring us closer to you, so that all we do may be for your glory, not ours.
Amen.

3rd Sunday in Advent: Listening for God's Song

As we enter the third week of Advent, we have just heard an invitation in yesterday's first reading from Zephania to shout and sing for joy:  "Shout for joy, O daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, O Israel!  Be glad and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!" But did  you notice the end of that reading?  God will also sing: "The LORD, your God, is in your midst, a mighty savior; he will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love, he will sing joyfully because of you, as one sings at festivals." God sings?

I think most of us easily envision ourselves singing praise to God - and probably do it on a regular basis in worship. Less easy is to imagine what God's song would be like.  Even Tolkein, in the elaborate mythology , The Silmarillion, which he wrote supporting The Lord of the Rings, when he envisioned the creation or the world taking place as a result of the song of the angel-like holy beings, the Ainur, did not dare to have Eru Iluvatar, his version of the supreme being, sing.

As a parish cantor and choir singer myself, the question of God's song is of great interest. Does my own song call forth a similar response from God? If so, the notion of worship as a dialog is key. The song then becomes not just us singing AT God, but singing WITH God.

What kind of song?  "...as one sings at festivals" - this is the clue as to the nature of God's song.  It reminds me of the story of the Prodigal Son, in which the father welcomes his son home with a festival, complete with fatted calf. This is the God of celebration, whose joy in us when we come to him whole-heartedly knows no bounds. 

When do we shout and sing to God in such a way?

...when we truly worship in joy (and are not just going through the motions)
...when we celebrate the beauty of creation
...when we give thanks with all our hearts for blessings
...when we approach God in true contrition
...when we receive Eucharist and become one with Christ and each other
...when we celebrate the goodness of life
....when.... (fill in the blank)

But I don't think God's song is always necessarily one of joy. God is more complex. God is not the eternal big "happy face" guy.  Since God, through incarnation into humanity in Christ, embodies all that it means to be human. Sometimes God's song must be a dirge of grief when God grieves for us or with us, or a lullaby when we need comfort in the midst of the sorrow of life. When our song is sad, so must God's be sad. (After all, Jesus wept at the news of the death of Lazarus, so the Trinity knows the nature of human sorrow.)  Whenever our song is one of loss or loneliness or isolation, God hums in a still, small voice, waiting for each of us to get to the point when we can once again respond to God's outreaching love. My guess is that God never actually stops singing.

Zephaniah's call to rejoice is a challenge to us to find our song of joy in the midst of a dark world full of sorrows. It calls us to envision a world perfected in joy and to sing as if that world is already accomplished - because indeed it is - in God's time, the Day of the Lord already is. This is not a case of  'fake it until we make it." Instead, it is a call to see through God's eyes, that the Reign of God is already a reality, perfected in God's mind, existing in eternity, and that some day we will experience it as God does. God is already singing. We just can't hear it yet.

Waiting for the Mystery of Faith

Perusing the new translation of the Assembly parts of the Roman Missal on the USCCB website http://www.usccb.org/romanmissal/assembly.shtml you will notice that the Memorial Acclamation will now be called "The Mystery of Faith" - and that the one we use the most (Option A - the simple and strong text "Christ has died...") is up for grabs, as we wait to see if Rome will grant the USCCB an indult to allow us to keep it as an American adaptation.The proper text has it replaced with "We proclaim your death, O Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again."

Not awful, but again, the familiar musical settings which are so much a part of the American worship experience will not adapt very well to the additional text.  For an example in recent memory of what happens when companies try that, those of us who knew and treasured the original Owen Alstott chant-psalms from OCP will remember what happened when the new Lectionary translation came about a few years back and others adapted his simple settings to the new words, sometimes with rather unmusical results.

Personally, I find it hard to imagine life as a Catholic without the sonorous and powerful Mass of Creation setting of "Christ has died..." the Mass setting which has become so much a part of our experience of worship. GIA, the publisher describes it as "one of the most sung in the English-speaking world."

And so, with the quality of our worship experience now under the control of the Vatican, we wait to see if we lose or get to keep this simple, strong and direct acclamation of our belief in Paschal Mystery.

The new Missal translation: will we be able to speak it trippingly on the tongue?

Hamlet:
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.

I just realized I have been somewhat reluctant, for a variety of reasons, to explore the upcoming changes in the people's parts of the Mass in any depth beyond a quick glance. I think I was a bit in denial and somewhat in dread of what I might find and what it is going to mean to me as a cantor and member of the Assembly. So, tonight I bit the proverbial bullet and went to the USCCB website where they have posted the new and old parts side by side for comparison: http://www.usccb.org/romanmissal/assembly.shtml. 

Of course, I knew about the "and with your spirit" response to the opening greeting and the change from "We believe" to "I believe" in the Creed, and some of the other particulars that have been argued and re-argued in the news and in Catholic blogs around the web.  Honestly, besides the substitution of the 4-syllable theologically specific and Latinate "consubstantial with the Father" for "one in being with the Father" (described by some commentators as an opportuntity for using the dictionary)  the change that concerns me most is the opening of the Gloria. (I will deal with the possible loss of the current Memorial Acclamation A in a separate post.).

Here is the current version of what is most often used as the refrain to the Gloria:   "Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth." Simply put, in terms of poetic meter this is mostly dactylic (2 long-short-short "feet") followed by a spondee (long-long)  and the same followed by a single beat. A such it is simple to set to triple meter (3/4 time or 6/8 time) music. Think of all the great refrain settings - and most are either in triple meter, or in 4/4 with triplets.

If I were a composer I would be tearing my hair out over the choppy new version:  "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will"  - the first line is the same as before, but then it segues into an anapestic (short-short-long) 2 trochaic (long-short)and another anapestic foot. Setting this and singing it are going to require some skill on the part of composers, musicians and assembly.  Triple, then double, then triple meter all in one line. If the Assembly parts are to be simple and singable, this will be a challenge.  We have lost the poetry in the translators' zeal to recover the literal meaning. And with it, our most beloved musical settings. Composers will be hard-pressed to squeeze all that text into the current tunes.

And so, my dear Hamlet, our lines will not trip easily off our tongues.  True, in time we will no doubt get used to this and it will take on its own character. The transition, however, may be as disruptive as the performance of the play within the play in Hamlet.

The "disappearing Jesus" - an ecumenical chapel environment reality

My son, who is stationed at Goodfellow AFB in Texas, shared with me a chuckle yesterday about their chapel worship environment. Because the chapel serves as a space for both Catholics and Protestants, they have a crucifix with a corpus that slides off to the side under a covering, so as not to offend Baptists and others who prefer a plain cross. Creative solution - but somehow amusing!

Where we worship - how does it affect how we worship?

I have been following an interesting discussion on my friend Todd Flowerday's blog on worship spaces - decor, images, distraction, Catholicity, etc - second tier discussion is ongoing at http://catholicsensibility.wordpress.com/2009/12/04/should-liturgy-be-easy-or-hard/ - and I have to ask myself when have I found a worship space conducive to my own participation - and not.  As a convert, used to the traditional vaulted ceilings and colored stained glass of Lutheran and other Protestant churches, I have to admit that modern Catholic church architecture occasionally challenges me. I guess I am just more comfortable entering a Gothic-inspired church space that is familiar.  Then I can go about the business of worship without too much thought.

However, I am convinced it is not just the space, but the elements of lighting, art and evironment that contribute to a good (or poor) worship experience.

Last Holy Thursday, I had an interesting opportunity to compare worship spaces. I went on our diocesan young adult 7-churches-before-midnight tour with my son, and I have to admit - the spaces that spoke to me were indeed the more "modern" ones.  And, that sometimes it was the actual space that struck me, and other times it was the way environment was used to enhance (or to detract). The most memorable church, a recently renovated space, was architecturally simple,  but strikingly appropriate because it was totally dark, only lit by a path created by paper-bag lumnaria, which led you to the chapel where the Blessed Sacrament was in repose. Inside the chapel, a scrolling marquee of phrases in English or Spanish (it was a Spanish parish) from the Gospel of Holy Thursday was being projected, crawling over the wall and ceiling around the eucharistic display. What a profound sense of mystery this space created. In the harsh light of day it may seem cold and empty, but appropriate lighting and creative elements enhanced the experience.

In contrast, there was a brightly lit very traditional Gothic space, which was cluttered with a tasteless homemade grotto in which it was difficult to discern the presence of the Blessed Sacrament.  I spent most of my time there trying to find it. Not an appropriate space to enhance the Holy Thursday experience.

Another church, a predominantly African American parish in a lower-economic area, had purple Lenten decor elements out in place of the normal white-enhanced ones - but  in that church the chief adornment of the space was the hospitable spirit of the people, who greeted us with a "mini-revival" instead of the expected Adoration experience. OK, so it didn't feel like Holy Thursday - but you know, I still remember how it felt. They were being themselves - simple, devout and enthusiastic.

In yet another church, the sanctuary was stunningly beautiful - but someone had attempted to cover up the traditional wall-statue images of Mary on one side, and Joseph and Child on the other, by painting them medium grey - to go with the two-tone medium and dark grey used on walls and ceiling (with traditional gold accents). The apparent intent was to harmonize the appearance of traditional Gothic elements with the fabulous Art Deco black marble and gold altar, ambo and tabernacle which are truly stunningly beautiful. Certainly the sanctuary was a delight to the eye, but the distressing attempt to marry the two styles through the paint job on the rest of the church was truly distracting.

So, what? This little tour helped me understand that some spaces lend themselves harmoniously to the worship experience, for whatever reason, while others call so much attention to the space that worship becomes all but impossible. Maybe if I worshiped regularly in one of the distracting spaces, I would become innured to the distraction?

When a liturgical season is prepared.....

It was interesting on Sunday to see the fruits of the past several meetings our parish liturgy planning committee all come together in the celebration.  It was a bit like eating a meal and recognizing the ingredients that you brought home from the grocery store.

First there were the invocations to the Penitential Rite we had written to connect with the focus on seeking the antidote to the darkness of the selfish, rude world in the light of Christ. Also reflecting this were the songs, the homily, and the General Intercessions. As the people went forth, singing a new hymn, "Stand Firm", all that we, the preparers of the celebrated season, could hope was that they carried the focus with them as they exited into the ordinary world.

I wonder how many of the people present at the Masses in my parish this weekend realized how much effort had been expended by other lay people to help them celebrate this season well. Most would probably be surpirsed to know about the hours we spent pouring over the readings, the struggle of some of our less-experienced members to write those invocations, the discussions, and all the work planning the season and putting it all together.

I also know that this does not happen in every parish. Sometimes, the ministers of the Mass just show up - and follow the Rite and its rubrics "on the fly" - and assume that things will work out. Although most of the time nothing egregious happens when there is no advance planning, it does the people a disservice and dishonors the Eucharist, when minimal or no preparation is afforded the celebration in advance.  The richness of a community's celebration of the liturgical season is certainly enhanced by work that brings together the seasonal themes and the current reality of that community's life in the world.

At every Mass, we celebrate the mighty deeds our God has done in the past, certainly, but we also celebrate God's living action in the presence through the lives of the members. It is, in Advent, a case of recognizing the second of the three ways in which Christ comes to us. (The first coming - as a baby in Bethlehem, the second - in the hearts of those who believe in him, and the third - when he will come as King of Glory). It is all too easy to focus on the baby and the King. Not as simple, is the understanding of what this has to do with us today, now.

It is this, the catechetical component of the liturgy that connects the celebration to current lived reality. Careful preparation and drawing out of connections and "themes" help faith and life come together in ways that actually can make sense. When that is not done, the community experiences just another season, where the naturally occuring elements in the Mass resonate with memories of past years, and people are not called to grow in faith, except possibly by the homilies. Then the preacher bears the full burden of making the connections. When preparation is done well, the people are challenged, called to attend to how this season can effect change in their lives by the cooperative harmony of many parts of the celebration.

And so, in our parish, where we take this work of preparing the seasons seriously, another Advent has begun - and with it, a new way of looking at Advent's intrinsic movement from darkness into light, rooted in a reading of the signs of the times. It feels like work well done.