Another cold day in Geneseo. Ah well, it makes one feel very alive. Unless you're exposed too long, naturally.
Today was the induction ceremony for members of the Philosophy Honor Society, Phi Sigma Tau (Greek: Philou Sophôn Timê), which was rather nice. Of course, they're silly philosophy majors, and everyone knows we historians are much more trustworthy... The interesting part of this ceremony was the paper given afterwards by one of the professors. He's evidently the closest thing the department has to a theist, terming himself a conceptual skeptic. He's a very nice and decent fellow, and certainly gives the theistic point of view as good a treatment as he is able. The topic of the paper concerns the popular oeuvre of Dawkins and Harris, and how they are barking up the wrong tree. (This was his wording, not mine. I find the metaphor interesting, as obviously the analogy to hounds loosed on a chase incites the question: Who is their master?, a topic I believe worthy of serious investigation)
As he presented them, the most glaring shortcomings in these works included the frequent use of the genetic fallacy to "debunk" the origins of religion and indeed morality. Also noted was their lack of philosophical sophistication in dismissing the ontological, cosmological, and teleological arguments out of hand without first presenting them, analyzing them, and seeing where they fall short. Rather humorously, Dawkins simply asserts that he has no patience for this sort of twaddle, and so naturally they must not carry any weight. This is about as legitimate as jumping into a lake and raising a stink about being wet.
What I thought could have been better addressed are the assertions about religious extremism. Certainly, fanaticism is a bad thing. And much has been done wrong in the name of religion. There is always a moralistic bent to arguments such as these, which is odd coming from a pair whose personal convictions tend towards relativism informed by that old evolutionary genetic fallacy. What they pass over, however, is the problem of human nature. They play the connection between religion and extremism as if religion simply produced extremism by itself. This makes a strikingly naive assumption about human nature, and one which history shoots down quite effectively. If a thing should be shunned because it brings about extremist attitudes and actions, then let us consider some other things which never ought to have been allowed to exist:
-socialism and communism- what was the death toll on that score again? Certainly greater than anything the Crusades ever wrought.
-the concept of the nation-state- this has quite demonstrably been one of the most destructive endeavors in human history. How many people died in the wars which brought about French supremacy in Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries? Or in the wars which established Prussia as the major continental power under Bismarck? The great expressions of ultra-nationalism in the First and Second World War?
-the acquisition and expansion of wealth and property- I realize that I may sound slightly Marxist in listing this here, but that is not my intent. I will come to an explanation for this shortly. But a few examples should suffice: Japan's wars of expansion and modernization from Meiji onwards. And just about any minor squabble in history has these tenets as at least proximate causes.
What I hoped to have shown in this is that extremism is by no means, in any way, shape, or form the province solely of religion. Extremism is the product of disordered humanity. And as such, it can be found in any human endeavor, no matter how noble the original purpose may have been. I hope, in bringing up the concepts of the nation-state and the acquisition of wealth and property, that I have also shown that otherwise legitimate pursuits, against which I doubt Dawkins and Harris would try to argue, can become the bases for brutal violence and destruction. In sound-byte form, if it's a body count that excites atheist outrage, then we might as well get rid of democracy.
Ultimately, though, Harris and Dawkins represent an elite whose eyes have grown far bigger than their stomachs. They have latched onto concepts with which they are not sufficiently familiar, and so provide a suspect analysis. They have conflated scientific truth with objective truth, and made the ironically dogmatic assertion that only scientific inquiry can make any statement which could be considered true. The upsetting part is that the militant atheist crowd who laps these two hacks up like mother's milk do not hold them to their own standard and ask what scientific basis their criterion of sola scientia has.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Pro Iudaeis- Good Friday Prayer
When Summorum Pontificum first came out in July, one of the biggest stinks raised outside of the Church was directed towards the Good Friday prayer for the conversion of the Jews. And naturally, this point was latched onto by the guitar-toting solus-Novus-Ordo types who break out into hives and fits of violent convulsions at the mention of the word "Tridentine". Which is odd, because the people who are most likely to raise a high holy fuss about this wouldn't be caught dead in a TLM, anyway.
In the manner of Fr. Z's outstanding blog, let's take a look at the prayer in question. Many thanks go out to Baronius Press, who published the Summorum Pontificum edition of the 1962 Missale Romanum. It's an outstanding offering, and really a great service to the Church.
"Oremus et pro Iudaeis: ut Deus et Dominus noster auferat velamen de cordibus eorum; ut et ipsi agnoscant Iesum Christum Dominum nostrum.
Oremus.
Flectamus genua.
Levate.
Omnipotens et sempiterne Deus, qui etiam Iudaeos a tua misericordia non repellis: exaudi preces nostras, quas pro illius populi obcaecatione deferimus; ut, agnita veritatis tuae luce, quae Christus est, a suis tenebris eruantur. Per eundem... Amen.."
Let us pray also for the Jews: that the Lord our God might remove the veil from their hearts, so that they too might acknowledge our Lord Jesus Christ.
Let us pray.
Let us kneel.
Rise.
Almighty and eternal God, who even repels not the Jews from your mercy: hear our prayers, which we offer on behalf of the blindness of that people; so that with the light of your truth, which is Christ, having been acknolwedged, they might be rescued from their darkness.
And here are the changes put forth by His Holiness B16:
Oremus et pro Iudaeis. Ut Deus et Dominus noster illuminet corda eorum, ut agnoscant Iesum Christum salvatorem omnium hominum.
Oremus.
Flectamus genua.
Levate.
Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, qui vis ut omnes homines salvi fiant et ad agnitionem veritatis veniant, concede propitius, ut plenitudine gentium in Ecclesiam Tuam intrante omnis Israel salvus fiat. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.
My rough translation:
"Let us pray also for the Jews, that the Lord our God may illumine their hearts, so that they might acknowledge Jesus Christ, the Savior of all men.
Let us pray.
Let us kneel.
Rise.
Almighty and ever-living God, who desires that all men might be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth, give pardon propitiously, so that through the fullness of peoples entering into Your Church, all Israel might be saved. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
There are a few subtle differences of note: in the first prayer, God is asked to remove the veil from the hearts of the Jews, whereas in the newer prayer, God is asked to illumine their hearts. There is a perceptible change: the removal of a veil does not necessarily connote the granting of light. So there's one slight shift of focus there.
The next major section of difference comes in the appositive phrase following "Omnipotens... Deus"; in the first prayer, we have "who even repels not the Jews from your mercy", and in the second "who desires that all men might be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth". Again, there is a subtle shift in the focus of the prayer, and in the second we see now a decreased emphasis on the Jews themselves in the prayer. It is difficult to see what exactly would be so offensive in the first prayer, wherein the emphasis on "etiam" would be important. "Who repels not even the Jews" might ruffle a few feathers, with the attendant connotation that those Jews are such a distasteful bunch. But Latin doesn't fit that neatly into modern English. Etiam is placed with qui, which would lead me to think that it modifies qui, God, more than it does "Iudaeos".
The reference to blindness in the Missale Romanum is itself eminently defensible. This is, after all, a prayer said in a Christian church. And it would not be much of a stretch to imagine that the Church would hold that those who do not confess Jesus Christ are spiritually blind. (Cf. Amazing Grace "was blind but now I see") I daresay that, in worshipping one whom they consider to be a false Messiah, the Jews would tend to think that Christians are similarly "blind". Bound up with this notion of "blindness" is "darkness" (suis tenebris). Once again, context is key here. Darkness need not mean the darkness of Hell (though it may lead there). In the case of this prayer, this darkness is to be understood in the spiritual sense, in the same sense as the blindness referenced above. We are told "the people in darkness have seen a great light", and it is this light, Christ, which dispels darkness/blindness. So again I can't see where "darkness" need be portrayed as insulting when predicated of the Jews. They don't have the faith, and so they are not illumined by it.
These notions of darkness, blindness, and light, however, are left out from the revision, somewhat sadly. What we have in the revised prayer is "plenitudo gentium", the fullness of peoples. This seems to be a nod towards ecumenism and "diversity"; but fear not! these things are qualified in an important way. Not only do we have "plenitudine gentium", but also "in Ecclesiam Tuam intrante"- i.e., entering into your Church. So the Church is still portrayed as the conduit of salvation, if less explicitly.
On the whole, it does not seem that there is a particularly great deal with which to get upset in the 1962 prayer. Nor is there anything objectionable in Pope Benedict's revision. What I will say of it, with all due respect and love towards our good and Supreme Pontiff, is that it is not as good a prayer as the original. The idea in the older prayer form a much more unified and beautiful symbolic picture of conversion and salvation: the removing of a veil, the taking away of darkness, the illumination of the soul through Christ, the light of faith. It need hardly be said that the concepts in those words are also more Scripturally grounded and in fact resonate better with the spiritual heritage of the Jews.
But His Holiness is a wiser man than I.
In the manner of Fr. Z's outstanding blog, let's take a look at the prayer in question. Many thanks go out to Baronius Press, who published the Summorum Pontificum edition of the 1962 Missale Romanum. It's an outstanding offering, and really a great service to the Church.
"Oremus et pro Iudaeis: ut Deus et Dominus noster auferat velamen de cordibus eorum; ut et ipsi agnoscant Iesum Christum Dominum nostrum.
Oremus.
Flectamus genua.
Levate.
Omnipotens et sempiterne Deus, qui etiam Iudaeos a tua misericordia non repellis: exaudi preces nostras, quas pro illius populi obcaecatione deferimus; ut, agnita veritatis tuae luce, quae Christus est, a suis tenebris eruantur. Per eundem... Amen.."
Let us pray also for the Jews: that the Lord our God might remove the veil from their hearts, so that they too might acknowledge our Lord Jesus Christ.
Let us pray.
Let us kneel.
Rise.
Almighty and eternal God, who even repels not the Jews from your mercy: hear our prayers, which we offer on behalf of the blindness of that people; so that with the light of your truth, which is Christ, having been acknolwedged, they might be rescued from their darkness.
And here are the changes put forth by His Holiness B16:
Oremus et pro Iudaeis. Ut Deus et Dominus noster illuminet corda eorum, ut agnoscant Iesum Christum salvatorem omnium hominum.
Oremus.
Flectamus genua.
Levate.
Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, qui vis ut omnes homines salvi fiant et ad agnitionem veritatis veniant, concede propitius, ut plenitudine gentium in Ecclesiam Tuam intrante omnis Israel salvus fiat. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.
My rough translation:
"Let us pray also for the Jews, that the Lord our God may illumine their hearts, so that they might acknowledge Jesus Christ, the Savior of all men.
Let us pray.
Let us kneel.
Rise.
Almighty and ever-living God, who desires that all men might be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth, give pardon propitiously, so that through the fullness of peoples entering into Your Church, all Israel might be saved. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
There are a few subtle differences of note: in the first prayer, God is asked to remove the veil from the hearts of the Jews, whereas in the newer prayer, God is asked to illumine their hearts. There is a perceptible change: the removal of a veil does not necessarily connote the granting of light. So there's one slight shift of focus there.
The next major section of difference comes in the appositive phrase following "Omnipotens... Deus"; in the first prayer, we have "who even repels not the Jews from your mercy", and in the second "who desires that all men might be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth". Again, there is a subtle shift in the focus of the prayer, and in the second we see now a decreased emphasis on the Jews themselves in the prayer. It is difficult to see what exactly would be so offensive in the first prayer, wherein the emphasis on "etiam" would be important. "Who repels not even the Jews" might ruffle a few feathers, with the attendant connotation that those Jews are such a distasteful bunch. But Latin doesn't fit that neatly into modern English. Etiam is placed with qui, which would lead me to think that it modifies qui, God, more than it does "Iudaeos".
The reference to blindness in the Missale Romanum is itself eminently defensible. This is, after all, a prayer said in a Christian church. And it would not be much of a stretch to imagine that the Church would hold that those who do not confess Jesus Christ are spiritually blind. (Cf. Amazing Grace "was blind but now I see") I daresay that, in worshipping one whom they consider to be a false Messiah, the Jews would tend to think that Christians are similarly "blind". Bound up with this notion of "blindness" is "darkness" (suis tenebris). Once again, context is key here. Darkness need not mean the darkness of Hell (though it may lead there). In the case of this prayer, this darkness is to be understood in the spiritual sense, in the same sense as the blindness referenced above. We are told "the people in darkness have seen a great light", and it is this light, Christ, which dispels darkness/blindness. So again I can't see where "darkness" need be portrayed as insulting when predicated of the Jews. They don't have the faith, and so they are not illumined by it.
These notions of darkness, blindness, and light, however, are left out from the revision, somewhat sadly. What we have in the revised prayer is "plenitudo gentium", the fullness of peoples. This seems to be a nod towards ecumenism and "diversity"; but fear not! these things are qualified in an important way. Not only do we have "plenitudine gentium", but also "in Ecclesiam Tuam intrante"- i.e., entering into your Church. So the Church is still portrayed as the conduit of salvation, if less explicitly.
On the whole, it does not seem that there is a particularly great deal with which to get upset in the 1962 prayer. Nor is there anything objectionable in Pope Benedict's revision. What I will say of it, with all due respect and love towards our good and Supreme Pontiff, is that it is not as good a prayer as the original. The idea in the older prayer form a much more unified and beautiful symbolic picture of conversion and salvation: the removing of a veil, the taking away of darkness, the illumination of the soul through Christ, the light of faith. It need hardly be said that the concepts in those words are also more Scripturally grounded and in fact resonate better with the spiritual heritage of the Jews.
But His Holiness is a wiser man than I.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Fear not- I have returned
After a long hiatus, I'm back to posting on here again. Now that I've started classes again, I needed some other way to procrastinate.
I was surprised to find that a situation very near to home had attracted some attention from the wider community of American Catholics. (Look Ma!!) The Closed Cafeteria kindly linked to the Newsday article on the matter.
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/wire/newyork/ny-bc-ny--parishprotesters0131jan31,0,3025232.story
SYRACUSE, N.Y. - Deputies had to remove a group of parishioners from an upstate New York Roman Catholic church where they had been holding a vigil for the past seven months to protest the church's closing.
The Syracuse Roman Catholic Diocese last spring identified St. Mary's Church in Jamesville as one of 40 churches it planned to close in a massive diocesan restructuring driven by a decline in the number of clergy and demographic shifts from urban to suburban areas.
Restructuring, unfortunately, is just part of the landscape these days. In some areas, such as the diocese of Syracuse, demographic shifts only exacerbate the problem. St. Mary's isn't particularly far away from the city or its larger suburbs. If the population had continued to grow and spread out through to the present day, this might not have been an issue. But it seems that the growth of the Syracuse area was over-estimated; things didn't work out that way. More and more jobs continue to leave the area, and opportunities for businesses just aren't there.
But St. Mary's parishioners vowed to fight the closing.
The Vatican appeal was not an enterprise directed towards success. The canonical forms and procedures had been followed with all propriety during the whole process, both by His Excellency Bishop Moynihan and by Msgr. Yeazel of Holy Cross, who is pastor there and administered St. Mary's before the closing. The Holy See would not reverse the decision of the ordinary in matters like this. The best analogy to be found would be in the chain of command. In addition, the vast majority of the parishoners of St. Mary's came over to Holy Cross or other local churches without undue protest. Naturally, they were sad to have left their church, and who wouldn't be? I'm sure a great many of them, like anyone else, would have asked tacitly or flat out "Couldn't you have closed someone else's church?" So far as it goes, that is a natural reaction to the situation. But in the end, their priorities were in order. The Church is a whole lot bigger than a church.
Since July, about 100 volunteers have taken turns staying in the church, maintaining a 24-hour presence. The group recited the rosary together regularly.
Syracuse Bishop James Moynihan made it clear to the group that their round-the-clock vigil was unauthorized, but he allowed it to continue until Wednesday. Moynihan said he was prompted to take action after recently learning that someone had brought Communion to the church and the group was holding prayer services there.
"It crossed the line," said Monsignor Robert Yeazel, the former pastor of St. Mary who now serves at Holy Cross Church. "The bishop ordered it closed. It's time."
The small group at the church Wednesday left without resistance. Moynihan and Yeazel accompanied the deputies.
I had heard differing numbers for the vigil-holders, but never as much as 100. I know for a fact that there was only a very small number from St. Mary's participating in it, so this leaves a few interesting questions. Where did these other people come from? Why were they there? Well, I suppose I shan't be able to find out now. But here's the reason I ask: a few of the leaders of this vigil and the whole protest in general were noted anti-clerical types. When listening sessions were held by the Holy Cross priests, when planning the new church at HC and also discussing the future of St. Mary's, these fellows were heard saying all kinds of lovely things about how priests really work. If there's anyone still reading this, I'm sure they know the sort.
The communion part is also interesting. I had heard it mentioned, though not confirmed, that the people still staying in the church were not attending Mass, as a priest was obviously no longer at St. Mary's. This really throws the problem of the vigil into sharp relief: if you refuse to participate in the Sacraments over the closing of a building, there's a problem. Yes, we've said already that the closing of a church is not a pleasant affair for anyone. But participation in the Sacraments and the Liturgy is the cornerstone of Catholic life. As St. Benedict said, "Nothing is to be preferred to the work of God" (though he was referring to the Officium Divinum, the principle still stands)
The final comment, about this situation turning people away from the Church is the frustrating one. Given all the Church teaches about salvation, how it is attained, what one must do to be in a right relationship with God and mankind, what one's duties are as a Christian, it seems downright foolish to place such a high value on a building. Simply put, it isn't worth your immortal soul. To be turned away from the promises of life everlasting and the beatific vision over an ephemeral event such as this demonstrates a certain lack of faith which I think is problematic if extant in the wider Catholic population.
Anywho, that's my two cents on the matter.
I was surprised to find that a situation very near to home had attracted some attention from the wider community of American Catholics. (Look Ma!!) The Closed Cafeteria kindly linked to the Newsday article on the matter.
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/wire/newyork/ny-bc-ny--parishprotesters0131jan31,0,3025232.story
Deputies remove protesters from Catholic church slated to close
SYRACUSE, N.Y. - Deputies had to remove a group of parishioners from an upstate New York Roman Catholic church where they had been holding a vigil for the past seven months to protest the church's closing.
The Syracuse Roman Catholic Diocese last spring identified St. Mary's Church in Jamesville as one of 40 churches it planned to close in a massive diocesan restructuring driven by a decline in the number of clergy and demographic shifts from urban to suburban areas.
Restructuring, unfortunately, is just part of the landscape these days. In some areas, such as the diocese of Syracuse, demographic shifts only exacerbate the problem. St. Mary's isn't particularly far away from the city or its larger suburbs. If the population had continued to grow and spread out through to the present day, this might not have been an issue. But it seems that the growth of the Syracuse area was over-estimated; things didn't work out that way. More and more jobs continue to leave the area, and opportunities for businesses just aren't there.
But St. Mary's parishioners vowed to fight the closing.
Parishioners appealed to the Vatican, as did two other Syracuse area churches. The groups said they were not included in the decision-making process and the closings deprived them of a vibrant faith community.
The Vatican appeal was not an enterprise directed towards success. The canonical forms and procedures had been followed with all propriety during the whole process, both by His Excellency Bishop Moynihan and by Msgr. Yeazel of Holy Cross, who is pastor there and administered St. Mary's before the closing. The Holy See would not reverse the decision of the ordinary in matters like this. The best analogy to be found would be in the chain of command. In addition, the vast majority of the parishoners of St. Mary's came over to Holy Cross or other local churches without undue protest. Naturally, they were sad to have left their church, and who wouldn't be? I'm sure a great many of them, like anyone else, would have asked tacitly or flat out "Couldn't you have closed someone else's church?" So far as it goes, that is a natural reaction to the situation. But in the end, their priorities were in order. The Church is a whole lot bigger than a church.
Since July, about 100 volunteers have taken turns staying in the church, maintaining a 24-hour presence. The group recited the rosary together regularly.
Syracuse Bishop James Moynihan made it clear to the group that their round-the-clock vigil was unauthorized, but he allowed it to continue until Wednesday. Moynihan said he was prompted to take action after recently learning that someone had brought Communion to the church and the group was holding prayer services there.
"It crossed the line," said Monsignor Robert Yeazel, the former pastor of St. Mary who now serves at Holy Cross Church. "The bishop ordered it closed. It's time."
The small group at the church Wednesday left without resistance. Moynihan and Yeazel accompanied the deputies.
I had heard differing numbers for the vigil-holders, but never as much as 100. I know for a fact that there was only a very small number from St. Mary's participating in it, so this leaves a few interesting questions. Where did these other people come from? Why were they there? Well, I suppose I shan't be able to find out now. But here's the reason I ask: a few of the leaders of this vigil and the whole protest in general were noted anti-clerical types. When listening sessions were held by the Holy Cross priests, when planning the new church at HC and also discussing the future of St. Mary's, these fellows were heard saying all kinds of lovely things about how priests really work. If there's anyone still reading this, I'm sure they know the sort.
The communion part is also interesting. I had heard it mentioned, though not confirmed, that the people still staying in the church were not attending Mass, as a priest was obviously no longer at St. Mary's. This really throws the problem of the vigil into sharp relief: if you refuse to participate in the Sacraments over the closing of a building, there's a problem. Yes, we've said already that the closing of a church is not a pleasant affair for anyone. But participation in the Sacraments and the Liturgy is the cornerstone of Catholic life. As St. Benedict said, "Nothing is to be preferred to the work of God" (though he was referring to the Officium Divinum, the principle still stands)
The final comment, about this situation turning people away from the Church is the frustrating one. Given all the Church teaches about salvation, how it is attained, what one must do to be in a right relationship with God and mankind, what one's duties are as a Christian, it seems downright foolish to place such a high value on a building. Simply put, it isn't worth your immortal soul. To be turned away from the promises of life everlasting and the beatific vision over an ephemeral event such as this demonstrates a certain lack of faith which I think is problematic if extant in the wider Catholic population.
Anywho, that's my two cents on the matter.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Requiescat in pace
His Eminence Alfons Cardinal Stickler recently passed away. He was a good friend to the TLM and a devout and wise man. Thanks to Whispers in the Loggia for the article.
Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei.
Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei.
Friday, December 14, 2007
A busy Advent
Well, finals are done (gratias Deo). The year turned out pretty well. And it's shaping up to be a busy last few weeks of Advent. Our Choir Christmas Concert, the last in our concert series this year which included an amazing performance by Anthony Kearns, is this Sunday, so that'll take a fair bit of preparation. Gaudete Sunday will take a little bit of work, too. Around the house, there'll be lots of cleaning, though everything is pretty well decorated now. Two good friends have just gotten back from Europe, so it will be great to see them. And with any luck, my temporary agency will be able to find some office which needs help over the holidays.
For the Fourth Sunday of Advent, I think I'll pull double-duty and go to the TLM at the Basilica at 4. It would be nice to make a regular practice of it. I think they will even be saying/singing High Mass there on Christmas morning at 12:30. I would dearly love to go (I'll probably have to beg, it being Christmas morning and all). I'm hoping that I could make the case that we could simply take two cars to the family party, enabling Gramma and Grampa to get an earlier ride home. This would let me drive to Mass and then drive to the party without worrying about making anyone late. Who knows, though?
For the Fourth Sunday of Advent, I think I'll pull double-duty and go to the TLM at the Basilica at 4. It would be nice to make a regular practice of it. I think they will even be saying/singing High Mass there on Christmas morning at 12:30. I would dearly love to go (I'll probably have to beg, it being Christmas morning and all). I'm hoping that I could make the case that we could simply take two cars to the family party, enabling Gramma and Grampa to get an earlier ride home. This would let me drive to Mass and then drive to the party without worrying about making anyone late. Who knows, though?
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Of Man's first Disobedience and the Fruit of that Forbidden Tree
It appears that the furor over the Golden Compass is ramping up. Well, it's about time, says I. I can still remember back to the release of the Passion of the Christ, in which all kinds of calls to boycott the movie emanated from the usual suspects (the one Jewish fellow I know who did see the film pointed out "Well, unless Pilate's middle name was Moshe or Shlomo, I don't think it makes much sense to say that the movie makes it look the Jews killed Jesus"- well put.) The tandem phenomenon of Pullman's attack-dog fans coming out and blasting "religious zealots" and "religious fanatics" is, of course, inevitable, but instructive. There's a good discussion of the particulars here.
As much as I can understand and share the impulse to upbraid the film and the books for their anti-Christian message (and we have to face it, even if that message is muted in the film, or is subtle, it is still there- it still informs the major themes of the story, if it can be said to have one other than a rather boringly cliché adolescent resentment of authority in any form), I think some of the best pieces about the hack and his clunky trilogy focus on its literary shortcomings.
To rant a bit, the one name that always comes up in reviews about Pullman's fantasy, aside from the obligatory reminder of how much Pullman loathes (read envies) Tolkien and Lewis, is Milton. The name of the trilogy is in fact a phrase listed from that poet's corpus. What is annoying is when Milton is invoked thematically in explaining the book. The characters in HDM and Pullman himself share but one similarity with Paradise Lost, and that is that they all buy into Satan the Literary Figure's promises of knowledge, enlightenment, and the ability of mankind to set out on his own. But Satan's grand gestures and semi-heroic qualities are altogether absent from Pullman's work. His heroine is a brattly little compulsive liar. Well, so was Satan, but he came off in such a way that I wanted to smack him across the mouth a lot less than Lyra.
It is that two-pronged strategy that will bear the most fruit here: emphasize the anti-Christian aspects of the film and books with the people who would respond negatively to it: that is to say, be sure that this message is getting out in churches and parishes (not during Mass or services, necessarily). Our Baptist brethren are models in this regard, as their ability to get the message out among their churches about films to see or not to see is, so far as I know, incomparable. It is also never a bad thing to be able to say with our Protestant and Orthodox brothers and sisters "See? One more thing we agree on." (sotto voce: "Now come back home!") But among the more secular moviegoers and wishy-washy Christians, be sure to point out that as a work of fantasy and fiction, it's pretty second rate. Mentioning the chip on the shoulder Pullman bears towards Lewis and Tolkien wouldn't hurt, either; the Narnia movie and the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy both enjoyed immense popular acclaim, so a blowhard who comes out and waxes irate about how "infantile" and stupid those two stories are would rightly garner some suspicion on the part of moviegoers who found those tales beautiful, moving, and altogether enjoyable.
As much as I can understand and share the impulse to upbraid the film and the books for their anti-Christian message (and we have to face it, even if that message is muted in the film, or is subtle, it is still there- it still informs the major themes of the story, if it can be said to have one other than a rather boringly cliché adolescent resentment of authority in any form), I think some of the best pieces about the hack and his clunky trilogy focus on its literary shortcomings.
To rant a bit, the one name that always comes up in reviews about Pullman's fantasy, aside from the obligatory reminder of how much Pullman loathes (read envies) Tolkien and Lewis, is Milton. The name of the trilogy is in fact a phrase listed from that poet's corpus. What is annoying is when Milton is invoked thematically in explaining the book. The characters in HDM and Pullman himself share but one similarity with Paradise Lost, and that is that they all buy into Satan the Literary Figure's promises of knowledge, enlightenment, and the ability of mankind to set out on his own. But Satan's grand gestures and semi-heroic qualities are altogether absent from Pullman's work. His heroine is a brattly little compulsive liar. Well, so was Satan, but he came off in such a way that I wanted to smack him across the mouth a lot less than Lyra.
It is that two-pronged strategy that will bear the most fruit here: emphasize the anti-Christian aspects of the film and books with the people who would respond negatively to it: that is to say, be sure that this message is getting out in churches and parishes (not during Mass or services, necessarily). Our Baptist brethren are models in this regard, as their ability to get the message out among their churches about films to see or not to see is, so far as I know, incomparable. It is also never a bad thing to be able to say with our Protestant and Orthodox brothers and sisters "See? One more thing we agree on." (sotto voce: "Now come back home!") But among the more secular moviegoers and wishy-washy Christians, be sure to point out that as a work of fantasy and fiction, it's pretty second rate. Mentioning the chip on the shoulder Pullman bears towards Lewis and Tolkien wouldn't hurt, either; the Narnia movie and the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy both enjoyed immense popular acclaim, so a blowhard who comes out and waxes irate about how "infantile" and stupid those two stories are would rightly garner some suspicion on the part of moviegoers who found those tales beautiful, moving, and altogether enjoyable.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
USCCB document on Sacred Music
Fr. Z. posted a few sections of the USCCB's latest document on sacred music in the liturgy, with his usual keen analysis and insight. The full version of the statement is here
It is certainly encouraging to read many of the things in the document; the piece, however, is slightly schizophrenic. It makes fine statements about the pride of place given to chant, and how its use should be expanded, and how it should be learned, etc.- but then frequently backpedals. For those who long for a return to an extensive use of plainchant, it's a bit of a roller coaster ride (naturally, I imagine, the feeling is much the same for those who demonstrate a near allergic reaction to chant in the Mass)
One of the interesting phenomena here, though, is the reaction of those opposed to chant. Though a relative newcomer to traditional, orthodox Catholicism, I've seen several examples of the general philosophy these people put forward: they are innovators, who want to shake things up, who want to make changes, who want to seek out and implement alternative points of view, who want to incorporate a wider ranger of cultural elements into the Mass, and who want everyone to feel welcome and participate in the sacrifice of the Mass. Lovely. Here's the odd part, though:
-As for being innovators, shaking things up, etc., that time has long passed for the nouveaux liturgistes. Most of their innovations and reforms already have inch-thick dust about them. And a good number of them seem to young people to be simply mawkish affectation. For my generation, the post-conciliar American silliness which has given us guitar Masses and liturgical dance is old and incomparably out-of-date. We are in perhaps the enviable position of discovering the ancient as the refreshingly novel.
-As for seeking out other viewpoints and incorporating elements of other cultures into the Mass, and wanting everyone to feel welcome, well fine- but could we start seeing a little consistency about this, please? There are too many times to count in which a person complains "Oh, dear, this archaic and antiquated practice is stifling. It practically brings back images of the Middle Ages. I feel my participation in Mass suffers from being subjected to it. O merciful liturgical coordinator, couldn't you do something to make the Church relevant to people today?" And said merciful liturgical coordinator is only to happy to comply, now being able to claim with a face at least half-straight that their "innovations" enjoy "popular support". But when a request comes in for a return to more traditional practices, lo! The shaft! Now this is really so incredible that it deserves an explanation- why, given all these promises of inclusiveness and no Catholic left outside, are the wishes of the traditionally-minded not weighed along with those of the more innovatory? Suddenly that well of sympathy and tolerance for other liturgical practices has gone dry.
It isn't difficult to diagnose the inconsistency. This isn't primarily an issue about any of those fair-seeming principles I mentioned above. Chiefly it is a matter of preference- that is to say, the preference of the liturgist. The question about whether or not the faithful would like a return to some more traditional practices in some areas is rarely asked, and the answer is most frequently stonewall. We do not get so clear a picture of what the people want as what the liturgist wants, insofar as the liturgist serves (manifestly) as the vox populi.
It has been my experience, however limited, that people are generally substantially more receptive to older practices than the liturgist might care to admit. I can remember Midnight Mass last year, when our choir used the settings from Mass VIII "De Angelis" (wrong setting for a feast of the first class, I know, but it's one of the easiest ones for the faithful to pick up on, and it sounds lovely), and our pastor, God bless the good and noble Monsignor, chanted the "Dominus vobiscum" and several other parts of the Mass, much to our very pleased surprise. And the congregation's too, to hear many of them talk about it afterwards.
What I would like to know is, why aren't things like that given a fair shake, too? I don't think I'll get a straight answer for a looong time.
It is certainly encouraging to read many of the things in the document; the piece, however, is slightly schizophrenic. It makes fine statements about the pride of place given to chant, and how its use should be expanded, and how it should be learned, etc.- but then frequently backpedals. For those who long for a return to an extensive use of plainchant, it's a bit of a roller coaster ride (naturally, I imagine, the feeling is much the same for those who demonstrate a near allergic reaction to chant in the Mass)
One of the interesting phenomena here, though, is the reaction of those opposed to chant. Though a relative newcomer to traditional, orthodox Catholicism, I've seen several examples of the general philosophy these people put forward: they are innovators, who want to shake things up, who want to make changes, who want to seek out and implement alternative points of view, who want to incorporate a wider ranger of cultural elements into the Mass, and who want everyone to feel welcome and participate in the sacrifice of the Mass. Lovely. Here's the odd part, though:
-As for being innovators, shaking things up, etc., that time has long passed for the nouveaux liturgistes. Most of their innovations and reforms already have inch-thick dust about them. And a good number of them seem to young people to be simply mawkish affectation. For my generation, the post-conciliar American silliness which has given us guitar Masses and liturgical dance is old and incomparably out-of-date. We are in perhaps the enviable position of discovering the ancient as the refreshingly novel.
-As for seeking out other viewpoints and incorporating elements of other cultures into the Mass, and wanting everyone to feel welcome, well fine- but could we start seeing a little consistency about this, please? There are too many times to count in which a person complains "Oh, dear, this archaic and antiquated practice is stifling. It practically brings back images of the Middle Ages. I feel my participation in Mass suffers from being subjected to it. O merciful liturgical coordinator, couldn't you do something to make the Church relevant to people today?" And said merciful liturgical coordinator is only to happy to comply, now being able to claim with a face at least half-straight that their "innovations" enjoy "popular support". But when a request comes in for a return to more traditional practices, lo! The shaft! Now this is really so incredible that it deserves an explanation- why, given all these promises of inclusiveness and no Catholic left outside, are the wishes of the traditionally-minded not weighed along with those of the more innovatory? Suddenly that well of sympathy and tolerance for other liturgical practices has gone dry.
It isn't difficult to diagnose the inconsistency. This isn't primarily an issue about any of those fair-seeming principles I mentioned above. Chiefly it is a matter of preference- that is to say, the preference of the liturgist. The question about whether or not the faithful would like a return to some more traditional practices in some areas is rarely asked, and the answer is most frequently stonewall. We do not get so clear a picture of what the people want as what the liturgist wants, insofar as the liturgist serves (manifestly) as the vox populi.
It has been my experience, however limited, that people are generally substantially more receptive to older practices than the liturgist might care to admit. I can remember Midnight Mass last year, when our choir used the settings from Mass VIII "De Angelis" (wrong setting for a feast of the first class, I know, but it's one of the easiest ones for the faithful to pick up on, and it sounds lovely), and our pastor, God bless the good and noble Monsignor, chanted the "Dominus vobiscum" and several other parts of the Mass, much to our very pleased surprise. And the congregation's too, to hear many of them talk about it afterwards.
What I would like to know is, why aren't things like that given a fair shake, too? I don't think I'll get a straight answer for a looong time.
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