"No you can't eat that candy cane. Hop in the van. It's time for Christmas!"

My wife and I load our three excited young children in the van and drive out for a brisk sparkle tour before Midnight Mass. It is -20, a definite improvement from last year. We are excited that we should get 15 minutes of looking at lights before the rear windows ice up completely. However, the sparkle tour is disappointing. It seems that large sections of streets this year have zero lights for display. So we trundle off to Midnight Mass.

It's 7:50pm, of course. Midnight Mass is a thing of the past. Yes, our seven year old asks why Midnight Mass is not at midnight. "Because Jesus is born early this year I guess," is all I can muster in reply.

The church is half full (to be positive). Just fifteen years ago it was necessary to arrive thirty minutes early in order to ensure a seat. My wife asks me why there are giant blue and yellow streamers in the sanctuary. "Maybe it's for Ukrainian Christmas?" I offer.

Mass begins. The choir director invites us to join in Go Tell it On the Mountain. We live on the prairies. It is sung by a choir of six heavenly angels. These ladies are old. Some very old. But they have their sway all worked out. They rock in unison as they sing. Active participation indeed. "Don't look," I remind myself. Otherwise I am sure to smirk, and that would be rude. You cannot control what you hear, but you can control what you see. Custody of the eyes is important for Catholics. Especially in these desperate times of modern worship. But deep down I am pleased. At least it is not Mary Did You Know? Not this year.

As the Mass continues my wife and I quickly notice that our two year old daughter, usually quite sweet at Mass, is flying off the wall. It is my parent's parish, and so perhaps she does not interiorly connect that this too is Mass. Or she joins in the playfulness of the mood. The homily involves the children in the church by the sanctuary while the priest asks them questions. "What do you do on your birthday?.. Do you get presents?.. Do you have friends come over?" In an instance the homily becomes comedy hour. However, the cuteness soon wears off, the priest/children session becomes awkward in length. It is too much for my daughter, and so my wife makes the walk of shame (or glory, for the daughter) to the back of the church.

The children return to their pews. Father continues his Q&A with the entire congregation. We are asked for a show of hands for several intense questions. "Who here has ever driven to ________?... Have you ever stepped on something in the middle of the night?... Do you like light better than darkness?... Who here thinks they will live longer than 120 years?" The profoundness is lost on me. I will not ever understand the point. Not if I live past 120 years. Mercifully the homily ends. My daughter returns with her mom. Two minutes later I am forced to remove the same daughter. She never talks this much at Mass.

At the back of the church I gently walk her around. There is another toddler present. He is knocking over ornaments on a tree while his mother tries to reason with him. From the once choir loft which now is for overflow seating (in the improbable event of a full church) I hear loud dance music blasting from someone's phone. The consecration begins. I note that the front half of the church kneels down. The back half sits. "Don't judge," I once again remind myself. "They could maybe all have knee problems. And that might not be gum they're chewing... it could be necessary pain medication."

Communion time. I mistakenly look up once. There strolls a fine young man sporting a smart looking ball cap as he approaches our Lord. My eyes snap back down. "Stop looking man!" I angrily scold myself. Before long the strife, er Mass, is o'er. Well, almost. There is time for a couple more minutes of comedy from the priest. The night is young, after all. We will surely be back at the house before 9:30pm. The final hymn begins. A combination of Joy to the World and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Again, I am thankful that it is not All I Want for Christmas is You, or worse, the ever offensive Baby It's Cold Outside.

I bring my family to the crèche scene. Baby Jesus lies in his manger. He looks absolutely perfect. He positively radiates with beauty and joy. His mother is gazing at Him with a loving affection never before seen on earth. The chit chat from the church pews is blocked from my mind. Finally I can open my eyes and soak in the enormity of what is happening. "Kiss baby Jesus, please?" asks my daughter. My wife lifts the babe to her lips. She gives the sweetest kiss. One only a two year old girl can give. Jesus is placed next to His mother once more. With one final genuflection we file out of the church and into the frigid van. Our Dominican friars Christmas album turns on automatically. The tender words echo: "Christ was born to save. Christ was born to save."

It is sobering to watch a parish fade into oblivion with nothing more than a whimper. To look on in silence while the entire night screams triumphantly: "It cannot be fixed! It is over!" Perhaps it cannot be fixed. Not this. An inauspicious fifty years of toil has reaped somberness of spirit and waves of darkness. Yet the light will never be totally extinguished, for reasons that the dark can never comprehend. The little girl who kisses Jesus so sweetly will bear this light forth. And the boys who love solemnities because they can wear ties to Mass. Families, few and far between, will pass on the faith in the home, if it be lacking in the church. Traditions, and their "dead" language of praise, will survive the scourge. Reverence will be returned to the sacrifice of the Mass. Perhaps only in an extraordinary form, by a future generation. This much is certain: Christ loves His Church, and all the dear children. He was born for these times. Christ was born to save.

William Kurelek's "Ancient Beauty Ever Old and Ever New"

William Kurelek's "Ancient Beauty Ever Old and Ever New"

Veils, Vernacular, and Culture: Death and All of its Friends

Who killed Latin in the Mass? Are you happy about it?

You shouldn't be. Read my latest over at Bravest Thing.

3 Ways to Mess up with the (Latin) Mass

In my experience of the Mass of St. Gregory (from henceforth to incorrectly be referred to as the "Latin Mass") there is a heavenly host of graces which abundantly bless the souls of the faithful. The beauty, depth, and direction of the Mass are of inestimable value. But, BUT, like any endeavour which involves fallen humanity, the Latin Mass, or any Mass/Divine Liturgy, can be soured if one does not check oneself. Based on my experience, here are three ways to mess up the Mass:

1) Be a Know-it-All

I have many wonderful, devoted, and insightful friends involved with the Latin Mass. I recently tried reaching out and talking to a couple of other people who attend the same Mass, yet whom I would've never seen myself talking to before. I raised the topic with them of a recent video I saw explaining some of the issues in the Church today (FYI: A Taylor Marshall video). Immediately I was met with: "Yeah, I couldn't even watch 30 minutes of him... he doesn't know anything about imperialism. Ridiculous! Imperialism is blah blah blah..." And thus I lost any desire to talk to these people ever again. It took less than 30 seconds of conversation. Why? They were being know-it-alls. I am willing to admit there are many things I need to learn about. For instance, this "imperialism" topic. I am not well-read on the modern debate surrounding it (nor, to be frank, do I really care). And yes, I've studied political philosophy in great depth (including Aquinas). It doesn't matter. Being a know-it-all is a tremendous turn off. 

2) Be Unbalanced

"Lord, may I have balance and measure in everything... except love." Thus writes St. Jose Maria Escriva. Look, we must put our all into the Mass. This includes serving, singing, decorating, spiritually preparing, and even dressing ourselves, to the best of our abilities. Further, these small "talents" of ours must be done in accord with the deep theological traditions of the Church. Otherwise we lose efficacy and, essentially, wander around cluelessly like the Israelites in the desert. Yet love for the Mass must not get in the way of common sense with living. "Ite Missa Est" means we are commissioned (not simply "dismissed"). Thus the Mass must act, and balance, our entire lives. And let me repeat, our lives must be balanced with common sense. 

I'll give you an example. I heard that some people do not necessarily feed their children before a 9am Mass. Say what? I understand the importance of the Mass. It is the "source and summit" of our day, week, and entire lives (Lumen Gentium 11). But come on! Children NEED to eat when they wake up. Otherwise, you are inflicting their hungry wrath on every last person at Mass. And it's not the child's fault. Feed your child! This is an example of being unbalanced. The Mass is most important. And there should be sacrifice involved in attending Mass. It's not easy, for instance, to attend a two hour Corpus Christi Mass at 5:15pm on a beautiful Thursday in June with fidgety children. Such a sacrifice would be abundantly bless by Our Lord. But to forgo a simple balance in life such as feeding your children, one that can be easily attained, is a means to souring the graces of the Mass. 

3) Be Grumpy Cat

Our own family has experienced something that we never would have thought much about before. That is, years ago we attended a Latin Mass. We found out that after Mass each Sunday the parishioners go downstairs for a quick coffee/snack and socializing. So we went down. Immediately we were sought out by a married couple. They introduced themselves, asked questions about ourselves (little did they know that I used to go to this parish in my university days... long before they were even Catholic), and authentically expressed a joy that we were here, with the hope of seeing us back soon. It made all the difference in the world that these people had reached out to us.

Last week, while we were attending the Latin Mass at this same church, I did something I never ever would have done before. I saw a couple at Mass whom I had never seen before. It turns out they weren't even Catholic. After Mass they went down to the basement for a cup of coffee. I turned to my wife and said, "Wife," says I, "we should go introduce ourselves to that couple over there." Wife readily agreed. And so we did. I thank the people who did the same to us years earlier. Sometimes in life it's the little things.

No one wants to hang out with grumpy cat. Be joyful. I think of the one man I know who, just days after finally acquiring a small herd of buffalo, had the herd drown in a swamp. The next morning at coffee time post-Mass, though he clearly was devastated, it seemed he was the one who was trying to console others over the tragedy of the dead buffalo. What a lesson in joy. We all have terrible days. Or weeks. Heck, even years. But sanctifying others should not be by being a thorn in their side. Be joyful. Or at least don't be grumpy.

And so...

These three mini-rants all come from my experience of attending the Latin Mass. They might sound harsh, whereas really they are not intended to be. I would just like to leave off with one other thing I noticed last week while attending the Latin Mass. I took our little two year old to the back of the church because she was being fussy. I looked up to pray and what I saw was unmistakable. I saw men everywhere. MEN. Yes there were children, mothers and grandmothers there. But really what stood out was just how many men there were. Many had a baby in one hand, and a Missal in the other. They were praying and rearing. All in the same breath. There is something truly special and life-giving about this Latin Mass.

Hence, I say: let's be careful to not mess it up.

LWC: Living with Christ or Living without Context?

When you go to daily Mass you need to be aware of certain things. That Jesus is truly present. That the Eucharist is the source and summit of our faith (LG11). And that social justice warriors confuse "praying" with "preying," for they prey upon your mind.

Take this excerpt from the Canadian Living With Christ booklet which contains the Mass readings for August 31, 2018.

Pope John Paul II wrote Sollicitudo Rei Socialis back in 1987 to mark his disappointment on the continued struggles of third world countries. The context is that this is written with the poorest of the poor in mind. Yet we are led to believe, when we open up our Mass booklet to see the readings, that the Church must shun what is beautiful. That us far too wealthy Canadians should open our Mass readings and be told that we must avoid costly sacred furnishings for the sake of the poor is dishonest and misleading. The fact is that us wealthy Canadians can more than easily give more money to support the poor, without sacrificing sacred beauty. We go to Disney. We buy cabins and extra vehicles. We put our kids in every sport under the sun. We can do more for the poor and hardly feel a pinch in the wallet. Beauty and sacred décor need not suffer. Maybe give us an option better than Development and Peace? Or maybe we're too busy paying for abuse settlements?

But the lack of context is laughable. For instance, the same Pope John Paul II wrote in 2003 in Ecclesia de Eucharista, when speaking specifically on sacred furnishings (i.e. true context):

"A woman, whom John identifies as Mary the sister of Lazarus, pours a flask of costly ointment over Jesus' head, which provokes from the disciples – and from Judas in particular (cf. Mt 26:8; Mk 14:4; Jn 12:4) – an indignant response, as if this act, in light of the needs of the poor, represented an intolerable “waste”. But Jesus' own reaction is completely different. While in no way detracting from the duty of charity towards the needy, for whom the disciples must always show special care – “the poor you will always have with you” (Mt 26, 11; Mk 14:7; cf. Jn 12:8) – he looks towards his imminent death and burial, and sees this act of anointing as an anticipation of the honour which his body will continue to merit even after his death, indissolubly bound as it is to the mystery of his person" (par. 47).     [emphasis mine]

Or further:

"Like the woman who anointed Jesus in Bethany, the Church has feared no “extravagance”, devoting the best of her resources to expressing her wonder and adoration before the unsurpassable gift of the Eucharist" (par. 48).

Thanks to Professor John Paul Meenan for having us study this document at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy long long ago. I am grateful that it stuck in my mind.

In any event, watch out for quick deceptions. Know your faith. Because you must always take heed lest someone seed untruth in your mind.

Especially when at Mass.

It's a good life if you don't weaken'

"Oh right, you like the Latin Mass..."

Translation: "You think you're better than everyone because you like the 'Latin Mass.'"

Of course.

While you're at it, know that I'm also really proud of my humility, never gave up in my quest for perfect perseverance, and never judge those evil sinners who think so lowly of me, wretched creatures that they are. To quote an underappreciated president: "Believe me."

Or believe another truth: I prefer the Latin Mass because I think it is, in fact, superior. I also vote Conservative because I much prefer them to Trudeau's libs, will always choose my own garden produce to store bought veggies, and buy Adidas underwear because of its well-crafted thread work, comfortable feel, and affordable cost. And for what matters most in life, the Mass, I think the Latin Mass to be superior.

Honestly. If you go to a Novus Ordo Mass then I would hope the heck that you think it is superior to a Latin Mass. Why on earth would you go otherwise? The two are not the same. Not unless you are blind, deaf, numb to smell, and all-together incapable of observing any differences. They are quite different. Jesus is Jesus and the Mass is Mass aside. They are very different. So go to the Novus Ordo. But if you do, I would hope you think it is superior. Because the alternative is that you haven't thought of this at all. The world has enough mindless Catholics. Catholics that weaken daily. Choose the Novus Ordo Mass, ridiculous abuses aside, because you think the simplicity and spoken parts are to be preferred. Or, perhaps, because you just don't get the Latin Mass. "What on earth could be so appealing? What is being said? Why all the kneeling and incense? And they surely all hate Pope Francis too!"

Indeed, think of your best arguments pro-Novus Ordo, anti-Usus Antiquior. Though I would recommend you read Peter Kwasniewski's book Noble Beauty, Transcendent Holiness. He'll state all of your thoughts and concerns clearly for you. He'll get to the heart of each argument you are trying to enunciate. Just be warned that he will then take said argument and utterly rip it apart, smash it, jump on it, and more or less annihilate the objections with a sed contra and respondeo which will leave the objection holder with the mere reply of, "Yeah, well... maybe it's not!"

I say this perhaps too brashly, though I hope it is seen more of a conviction of belief in something. That the world needs beauty, not whitewashed walls and folk worship. That Latin is both a unifying and extraordinary mode of speaking heavenly realities. That worship should be set apart from, not conforming to, the world. That Eucharistic Prayers from the 1960s are not actually how the early Church prayed, but rather that we need continuity with tradition, both small and large T. And perhaps above all else the conviction that we need to stop being so lazy when it comes to the most important thing we will do each week, or each day: attending Mass.

We need to study our faith. We need to think through our faith. Now is not the time for mere doing what everybody else is doing and essentially weakening our own resolve, convictions, and desire for what elevates. Life will not get any easier, at least for the faithful. The faithful must stand firm in what they believe. I believe the Latin Mass is superior. This is intellectual. This is also experienced. You won't hear me say: "Oh, you think you're better than me because you go to the Novus Ordo Mass." So don't think the same of me. Think about what you worship. And may God lead us all closer to Him. Life won't get easier. But, as a certain singer once said, it's a good life, if you don't weaken.

Noise - Noise!

"Hi, I would like to set up an appointment to discuss renegotiating our mortgage."

"Dad! I broke your new hockey stick... on my friend's head..."

"Hey wife, you have beautiful eyes, can you get me another beer from the fridge?" 

Talking. It's how we communicate. It is ordinary. Nothing special. We buy and sell by it. Plead and Please. Scold and praise. But is it for Divine praise? 

Once upon a time the Mass organically developed into one of two things, either the quiet and prayerful low Mass, or the gloriously sung high Mass. Mass was either quiet, or it was sung. There was music, or there was silence. The Mass developed as such because both music and silence are set apart from the ordinary. Let me repeat, the Mass is set apart. It is holy. The words of the Mass must be elevated. Talk is cheap. We talk everyday. All the time. We do not chant all day. Surely we are not silent and reflective either.

Unfortunately the practice of either silence or singing (and I don't mean the ultra pathetic four hymn sandwich) is what our current Mass lacks. It innately is void of being set apart. It is not the quiet low Mass, nor is it the sung high Mass. It is neither. In a word, it is noise. Unavoidable noise. You can close your eyes, but you cannot close your ears. 

The great Peter Kwasniewski, in Noble Beauty, Transcendent Holiness, describes it as such: 

"Where have the chanted propers gone, the chanted Ordinary, the chanted priestly prayers, gone? Where has the profound silence gone? In a typical weekday celebration, 95% of the liturgy is spoken out loud, towards the people as an audience. It is talk, talk, talk, a wearisome march through the texts that are not even particularly notable for their literary qualities (unlike, in this respect, the Anglican Ordinariate liturgy, which is free to draw upon some of the best English prose every put on paper). No wonder it has so little impact on the soul [...] It is, as it were, neither cold nor hot, neither speechless nor lyrical; it is lukewarm - and we know what happens to the lukewarm" (p. 244).

What to do? Does Vatican II allow for, say, a quiet weekday Mass, or a chanted Sunday Mass? Of course, though it is unlikely. Are we better off by hearing every breath from the priest thanks to the almighty microphone? Does the four song sandwich, truly speaking, have anything to do with the Mass? Why are the prayers at the altar announced to us as if they were directed at us and not God? Is it true that Pope Francis once suspended a priest for not saying "Good morning sisters and brothers" at the start of Mass?* Can we not just admit that most Catholics are too lazy to put any real effort into making the Mass set apart?

Why bring this all up? Because I was reminded of a piece of writing I once read years ago. It was Fr. Hunwicke, who possesses a very British style of writing, whom recently referenced the famous passage from C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters. To quote the demon:

"Music and silence - how I detest them both! How thankful we should be that ever since our Father entered Hell ... no square inch of infernal time has been surrendered to either of those abominable forces, but all has been occupied by Noise - Noise, the grand dynamism, the audible expression  of all that is exultant, ruthless and virile - Noise which alone defends us from silly qualms, despairing scruples and impossible desires. We will make the whole universe a noise in the end. We have already made great strides in this direction as regards the Earth. The melodies and silences of Heaven will be shouted down in the end. But I admit we are not yet loud enough, or anything like it. Research is in progress ..."

You've perhaps read this before. Hopefully when you read it your mind produced the voice of a demon screaming hysterically for more noise, more commotion, more noise Noise NOISE!!! Indeed, as the modern 65 year old liturgist proclaims: "[sacred] music and silence - how I detest them both!" 

We must be willing to work for what is sacred. Because talk is cheap.



* of course not

More Kwasniewski

The great professor Peter Kwasniewski has an engrossing "imaginary tale" article over at Onepeterfive. It involves a theoretical, yet most-real, situation of a Catholic born in the year 1938. I add that Catholics born in 1983 also, to a degree, know the struggle. Here are a few highlights to whet your appetite:

"You were born in 1938. You grew up in a parish where multiple Sunday Masses were packed with Catholics. Some of your earliest memories are of the hats and veils the ladies wore as the final touch on their Sunday best, the men’s dapper suits and polished shoes. You learned your catechism in Q&A form—and to the present you can recall whole sections of it. You fasted as best you could throughout Lent and always ate fish on Fridays. There was no question about going to communion without having gone to confession. Your time as an altar boy in the late forties taught you discipline, observation, and reverence. You felt a sense of humility mingled with pride in being able to enter the awesome sanctuary alongside the priest and watch him close up as he whispered the strange words of the Mass. You have striking memories of the quiet church early in the morning with sun streaming through the east window; you see the golden stitchwork on the chasuble, you feel the hard, smooth surface of the biretta that Father handed to you.

In 1955 your Easter week changed dramatically."

Oh yes, those evil days of Catholicism. Now in his books Kwasniewski does not advance the idea that Catholicism in the 1940s and 50s was perfect. Not at all. Yet the essence of the faith, and liturgy, was still most desirable (whether certain lax clergy and laity practiced it or not). Further, and most importantly, it was certainly far better than what we've had since. He goes on:

"In Advent 1969, everything changed again. There was a new rite of Mass. The familiar prayers were gone. Latin was never heard. It was like a different denomination. In fact, some friends of yours said: 'Doesn’t the Catholic Church know what it wants to be? This sea change every five years or so looks like a lack of confidence or a crisis of identity or something.'"

Read the next section. There is a money line at the end of the following:

"Decades passed. Pastors came and went. Your parish was renovated twice: the first time it was whitewashed, turned upside-down, and brutalized past belief. Familiar statues and candlesticks and pews were removed, and large chunky objects—in particular, a baptismal font that looked like a combination water-fountain and trash receptacle at a National Park—were hauled in. Felt banners were hung all around, reminding you of the Scripture verse: 'may there be darkness upon the land of Egypt, so thick that it may be felt' (Ex 10:21)."

Yes, we've all 'felt' the pain. And so, Kwasniewski's story ends with external apathy, yet internal heartbreak:

"So you sigh, and you take up your Rosary beads—at least these have not been prohibited or taken away. There may not be much hope for you in your neck of the woods, but you figure that others are doing better elsewhere, and besides, you are getting old, and shouldn’t expect too much or complain. [...] At your age, you can put up with anything a little longer. Then it’s goodbye to the world and its mess. Some problems only God can fix."

 Please read the entire article here.

And consider buying:


I haven't been able to read it much lately. It's a little too heartbreaking, lest I be led to apathy, or madness. Perhaps it's true that some problems only God can fix.

CCReno: Brought to you by the letters Z and K

Have you been listening to Fr. Zs daily Lenten podcasts? Every day he gives a wonderful five minute audio presentation which is sure to benefit one's Lenten journey. I enjoyed yesterday's podcast. Give it a listen.

Yes, he quotes from the amazing Wyoming Catholic professor Peter Kwasniewski. It is a shock to go to a Novus Ordo Mass and simply have the Mass said. Why do priests have this need to start chatting? If I wanted to chat with you then I'd invite you for coffee. It truly feels like we are in a vehicle that keeps jolting and rocking on its journey forward. Or like watching a TV show that has commercial breaks every two minutes. It is not pleasant to say the least. We love our current priest in our town right now, but his chattiness at Mass (yes he has been told so too) is just suffocating the life out of our Mass. But it's not just him. It's everywhere. He's just following the standard practice. As I said, he's a wonderful priest whom we love. He needs guidance though, coming from the powers that be. I think it is clear that, among other things, priests need to be commanded to say Mass ad orientem. Turn around and face Jesus. Chat with Him. In your heart. Good luck with that however, if you remember what happened to Cardinal Sarah when he calmly suggested the idea.

Lately I have been enjoying Kwasniewski's book: Noble Beauty, Transcendent Holiness: Why the Modern Age Needs the Mass of the Ages. I will say more about the book at other times. However, I would like to give you a quote which pretty much sums up what it is like to go to Mass on Sunday, at least in Saskatchewan:

"Is it not true for a large number of the faithful, larger than officialdom would ever admit, that the Ordinary Form as typically celebrated puts a serious, almost fatal cap on our genuine 'active participation'? Far from helping us along the road to perfection, attracting us with its inner mystery and outward beauty, such a Mass is an event we just try to get through as quickly and painlessly as possible, hoping we will not think too much about anything we are seeing or hearing, and perhaps making a promise to ourselves as we leave that we will not loudly complain about it all the way home or over the pancakes. How ironic, that a rite so drastically overhauled and reworked with a view to 'reaching people at last' and soliciting their hearty involvement has, in reality, soured and repelled so many of the faithful over the decades!" (p.178).

Catholic Culture Reno: The Mass

I was half-lying on the couch with a headache after supper when the little ones started setting up for Mass. I grabbed my camera and snapped probably far too many pictures. Truth be told, this posting is more of a For Grandparents posting then a true Catholic Culture Renovation one. There's nothing new under the sun here. Just some cute kids doing what I'm sure most cute kids in Catholic homes do: say Mass. This is not something that needs to be taught. If you take your children to Mass, they will want to say Mass at home.

John Paul with the setting up.

The processional.

Places everybody, places. I need to convince Joseph that Ad Orientem is the way to go. We need to get to the Latin Mass more often I guess.

If only John Paul folded his hands at real Mass.

Kyrie eleison.

Emilie trying to follow along in her Mass booklet. 

Oh wait, never mind, time for her to do the collection.

If parishes want more money then they should send cute kids around to collect the money. 

Look at this haul!

Smile for the camera Miss Cutie! Er, never you mind.

Offertory.

Where did the money go?

"Put 'r there." Technically the money is not supposed to go by the altar (can't serve both God and mammon), but we'll let it slide today.

Joseph says the Mass beautifully. John Paul is a great altar boy and usher/bouncer.

Oooooh! Incense!

"And cleanse me of my sin..."

"Hoc est enim Corpus Meum..."

"... Calix Sanguinis Mei."

Communion time.

On the tongue. Nice.

On the tongue too, er...

Consuming the remainder of the Sacred Species is always the best part.

Final Blessing.

Ita Missa Est. Wait! We're missing someone!

That's better. Go in peace. Thanks be to God.

Handing on a mess

A few nights ago I woke up from a vivid dream. In the dream I was in Barry's Bay at the wonderful St. Hedwig's church. Daily Mass had started and I was thrilled to be back to enjoy a peaceful and prayerful Mass. That is until someone started the entrance hymn. A band kicked in and played a raucous worship opener that even a charismatic-charged Protestants would drool over. Badly shaken by this new craze at the church of my wedding, I pressed on ahead at Mass. There was more commotion later on. Before the readings a group of people jumped to the front by the altar and took some booklets and formed them into mini megaphones. These people were pretending to make trumpet noises with the makeshift-a-maphones. They were goofing off at the front, and many in the congregation were laughing and singing along.

To quote Roch Carrier: "This was too much. It was too unfair. This is persecution!" I shouted as loud as I could: "Stop!!!! What are you doing?! You're a disgrace to this church!" People turned and looked at me. Some were relieved. Others were shocked at my outburst. It didn't matter. I think some people tried to kick me out. I woke up feeling quite satisfied with my defense of the this house of prayer.

I think maybe my soul subconsciously was anticipating the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran, which began the upcoming morning. There I was a few minutes later saying morning prayer with the words: "My house will be called a house of prayer." Did my soul subconsiously know that this great feast was approaching? Or was the dream just a coincidence? Actually, the reason I dreamed of this mess at St. Hedwig's probably stemmed from a prayer comment at the previous night Mass I attended (in Tisdale). It was the prayers of the faithful and our priest asked if anyone had any intentions to add (ho hum... cause that's how we feel like we are participating at Mass...). One lady, who runs our youth programs, piped up that she wanted to pray for the youth of our parish, and that the programs running would turn around and be successful (openly hinting that they were failing) and that the youth would find a love of the Lord through them. A desperate plea I thought. But it got me thinking. Why are we doing the same thing while expecting different results? Oh yes, that is the definition of insanity as is often quoted. That's it. We're insane in our diocese.

A couple of years ago our parish, in accord with our diocese, announced exciting 'new' measures to bring the youth back to the Catholic Church! These included lots of activities, youth Masses, praise and worship, and a watered-down Jesuit printed catechism. It was the 1980s all over again. It was, and remains, insane. No, this is not what we need. Praying for the youth to return to the faith through our diocesan programs is like expecting to win the lottery... when you don't even have a lottery ticket. Or praying for a sunny and beautiful 25 degrees Celsius on your wedding day... in January. Or for Justin Trudeau to spend money wisely. This is not sane.

"Ok smart guy," I'm sure you're saying, "just what do you suggest." I suggest what the Church, and yes even Vatican II, teach. The perhaps most quoted line from Vatican II (after the misquoted "active participation") is that the Eucharist is the "source and summit of the Christian life" (Lumen Gentium 11). It's actually quite simple: Fix the Mass!

That's right, fix the Mass already. There can be no return of youth, sustained growth of parishes, or renaissance of Catholic culture until we realize the Mass must be held sacred. The Mass must be prayerful, beautiful, mysterious, and uplifting. It must be what the world is not. Otherwise we can get the same false buzz from our everyday lives. And for heavens sake, the Mass must not be about us. Now there are other elements to growing Catholicism. Catechism. Family life. Sacraments and Sacramentals. But they all must be rooted in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. And the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass must be carried out properly. Otherwise we have little to no chance of changing things.

We are embodied creatures. We must rely on our senses. If you don't believe me, read Aristotle. That we rely on our senses means that what we take in affects our thoughts, words, actions, and even our souls. Can a Catholic grow in their faith with a reverently-impoverished Mass. Yes. Is it happening? Behold the fruits. A resounding NO. Why? As I said, read Aristotle. There is an insistence on emotionalism, looking at ourselves (ad orientem would sure help fix this), and trying to appeal to the modern world. I think of how our bishop has this thing with calling people around the altar at the Our Father and holding their hands. The look on the children's faces is sheer embarrassment. Why come to Mass? And... they don't. Hence the desperate plea of our parish youth leader. I wrote to the bishop once about his love of hand-holding, among other things. I think I used the word effeminate once or twice in the letter. He never acknowledged that he received my letter. Maybe I should have written in French? Or claimed to be a devoted follower of Jesuit James Martin? My gist was this though: be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect, and stop thinking you know more than the organic tradition of the Church. And for heavens sake stop forcing your hand on others. Is this so hard? Once again look at the fruits... apparently yes.

I realize things will get worse before they improve. I was forwarded Pope Benedict's famous prediction of a smaller human Church the other day. He made that prediction nearly 50 years ago. Our Lord's words of "where two or three are gathered" might someday become more literal than expected. And "My house will become a house of prayer" might someday be our own house only. Or, might I suggest, we fix the Mass before it gets to this? Before all the youth leave never to return. Before St. Hedwig's turns Protestant. Before no more Filipinos show up to artificially sustain our church numbers. Before my nightmares become reality. Fix the Mass. The holy things for the holy. There is no other way.

We must place ourselves in the hands of Our Lord. Not the literal hands of our bishops.

And upon this rock I will build my Church...

It's so hard to blog about anything these days. The Church, and the world, is such a mess. Sigh. Remember this?

Well from Poland we have:

I hope it's fake. But the website that put it up, StudioQuatro, apparently is a Polish website that specializes in high-end recordings of people's momentous events. Apparently this is at a Jesuit church in Poland.

I wonder how many years the couple lasts until... nevermind.

Anniversary Mass Singing

We've been on the road, or have had guests visit, for most of the summer now. One of the items we were fortunate to join in on was my brother Darryl's 10th anniversary celebration to the priesthood. The Millette choir (my brother, two sisters and me.. and joined by my niece Claire on this day!) joined forces with a mom from the Latin Mass who plays organ. We put together a quick couple of practices just an hour or two before the Mass. Needless to say, our guardian angels sure came through for us.

Now this video will never do justice to what it was actually like. The organ actually shook the church on the final song. It was, I think, my favourite moment ever from singing in the choir. I paid a price though. I threw out my voice somewhat. I've been stuck with a bad sore throat ever since!

Give a listen to some of the hymns and such. Some highlights are at:

27:04 Let All Mortal Flesh
46:30 Love Divine All Love Excelling
49:01 Non Nobis Domine
50:35 Dextera Domine
52:09 Ave Maris Stella (shortened)
57:35 O God Beyond All Praising

Yes there is an important juxtaposition here. That is sacred music being played within a post-modern structure. The church my brother is stationed at is Holy Spirit parish in Saskatoon. What could go wrong with a church built in 1966 titled Holy Spirit? They were tough times, and this church bears testament to that.. However, where there is no beauty, put beauty there, and then there will be beauty.

I would love to have some of our hymns recorded properly. However, as Becca so tactfully encouraged me once this was over: "You know, you should think about getting singing lessons..."

What I actually heard:

C'est la vie.

The Boys Say Mass

 Becca's been sick the past few days. None of us have been feeling 100%. And the boys have been driving me nuts. Things had to change. Nothing like Mass said in your own living room to bring a breath of fresh air.

Joseph and John Paul decided to say Mass. They dutifully set up an altar, prepared bells and "holy things" (holy water, palms, rosaries, little icons). Joseph suited up in his chasuble (house coat). John Paul served.

A few pictures:

Consecration. Ad Orientem style. Well, liturgical east anyway. South in reality. John Paul rings the bells.

  Communion. Very reverent. He must learn it from me.

Both species, I guess. He must learn that from someone else.

 I'm slipping as a sacristan. I put way too many hosts on the paten. The boys take seriously GIRM 85: "It is most desirable that the faithful, just as the Priest himself is bound to do, receive the Lord's Body from hosts consecrated at the same Mass." So to avoid a large stash of hosts in the tabernacle, the boys stayed a while and consumed all of the hosts.


After the final blessing they processed out while singing Immaculate Mary. Joseph took his chalice et al. with him. He picks up on stuff from the Latin Mass.

 I think I'll have them do the same tomorrow. I'm sure it would fulfill our Sunday obligation.