Thus far, we have established that, unfortunately for those who are ecumenically minded, sharing the table of the Lord seems more like a fantasy than a reality. We have established that between Catholicism and Protestantism the theology surrounding the Lord's Supper is too much for the different factions to be reconciled.
But the question ought not to be, "How do you view communion?" but rather "Who would Jesus eat with?"
Consider the following. We often talk about how Jesus went out to the poor, the despised, the sinners. We sometimes emphasize Jesus' work among the oppressed and Jesus himself says "I came not for the righteous but for the sinners."
However, when we look around our Churches, what do we see? I've talked about religiosity before, but that's not what I am going for today. How do we see the Lord's table?
Last post I mentioned the way the Roman Church treats the Eucharist. Our theology views it more of the Body of Christ, as a sacrifice. Until Vatican II our tradition was reminiscent of ancient Jewish practices, where only the priest was allowed to enter the sanctuary for the sacrifice and all the people were left in wonder and awe about what he was doing. Now, the priest faces the congregation, but we still treat the Eucharist with the same amount of sacred fear.
This, of course, is why there is so much emphasis on sanctity and holiness. In the Middle Ages, the peasantry were afraid of blaspheming by taking the Eucharist unworthily. The Church said that they needed to take it once a year, but the people were afraid of damning themselves. Thus the practice of lifting up the host became popular, as many of the common people were reluctant to partake but felt that at least seeing the host would be enough. This is also why the cup was inaccessible to people until after the Reformation. Were some of the Blood of Christ to spill on the ground, the person who spilt it would have committed a grave sin. The risk of damnation was too great.
Of course, Luther's understanding of Eucharist was very different. Luther viewed it more of communion, as the Lord's Supper. Thus, to deny people would be too exclude them, rather than to save them. Such a view of the Eucharist, I think, is more in line with Jesus' own teaching.
When Jesus gathered with his disciples for the Last Supper, consider briefly whom he did invite and whom he did not. At the table with him were Judas, his betrayer; Peter, who would deny him three times in one night; Thomas, who would not believe Jesus was resurrected until he was with his own eyes; and the two apostles who did not even recognize Jesus on the way to Emaus. Forget Levi the tax collector and the rest of the fishermen and shepherds, Jesus ate dinner with people who were not genuinely loyal to him. He did not eat with his mother, who would weep at the foot of his cross; Mary Magdalene, who would be the first to his tomb Sunday morning; Joseph of Arimathea, who would bury him; or any of the other disciples who were faithful to him when his apostles fled the garden.
Today, in the Roman Church, we tend to think of communion as a gathering of saints. When Jesus broke bread for the last time before his death, he was communing with anything but a gathering of saints. We restrict and shun and emphasize "worthy" participation. Of course, we do not limit it the same way that Mormons do, but nonetheless we do not allow outsiders to partake.
Jesus granted grace to any who had faith enough. The early Christian Church, because of their justified fears, restricted participation in the community to those who proved their loyalty (usually through a catechetical program that lasted three years). Today, we have no such fears. Today, the Christian Church is not in danger of spies or traitors, at least not from without. Perhaps Eucharist should be extended to any and all who have faith, and our scrutiny should not be to those who would sit at the table of our Lord, but those, namely the bishops and priests, who sit in the Lord's seat at the table.
Showing posts with label Vatican II. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vatican II. Show all posts
Friday, April 22, 2011
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Too Pious?
I attended a Protestant service today. It was a departure from the way Mass is celebrated.
Rather than genuflecting, we just sat down. There was no holy water to cross ourselves and no one bowed at the altar. We began, not with a blessing or a song, but with a rockin' rendition of some hymn I'd never heard before.
I was reminded just how different Catholicism was practically from Mormonism. Mormons show up for meetings and just sit down. and talk to people around them. They don't really stand up or sit down a whole lot and there are no responses during the service. There really are no readings to speak of, and the communion, though lauded as being the central focus of the meeting, is carried out in so quick a manner that nobody really pays attention. Two to three lay people will be asked to deliver sermons, and they will, usually to the best of their ability (or with only five minutes of prep time before the meeting). All manner of church business will be conducted before communion, usually distracting people. Kids will be crying, old men will be snoring, children will be drawing or texting or some other activity, and everybody will be hot because the AC doesn't work. Any music numbers consist of an organ, or possibly a piano or choir number between speakers.
Catholicism, however, is very big into its ceremony and sacramentals. We cross ourselves walking into the church. We genuflect before sitting down at the altar. We stand and sit and give responses. The readings are often read by lay people while the gospel and homily are done by the priest or deacon. The Eucharist is done at the end of the service with fully half of Mass devoted to the mystery of the Flesh and Blood of Christ. People are less likely to doze off because of all the constant position changing, though a few will snooze during the homily. Mass is only an hour, as opposed to Mormon's three hours of church meetings, making it more endurable for the unwilling attenders. Music is usually more traditional, with either a piano or organ, or possibly a small band, though with only accoustic instruments.
Even the more traditional Protestant churches I've attended place much less emphasis on ceremony and tradition. People just walk in, talking and sharing with each other. There are no procedures for bowing or sitting, but people do rise for readings and sermons are usually done by the minister. But the minister is not a priest, and the Communion is not viewed with the same reverence and respect as the Eucharist. Usually there's a full band, including electric guitars and basses and keyboards. Where the crossing and genuflecting is absent, however, other forms of worship are present. People stand during songs, hands outstretched and eyes closed in worship. People shout glorious alleluias and amens during sermons.
So I wonder what it is to be pious and reverent in worship. Is it dancing in the aisle? Is it Gregorian chanting? Is it abject silence as a peer reads a pre-written sermon? In my mind, worship needs to be somehow disconnected from the mundane world we live in. Our individual actions and habits we associate with worship need to be seperated from what we do at parties.
Do we talk too loudly at our services? Do we distract ourselves with the gossip of our friends and neighbors? Does the worship music distract us? Are we conducting ourselves in such a manner that we know we are in a worship service?
I find it quite fascinating to see the ways in which worship has changed over the last 2000 years. In the early days, as detailed by writers like Egeria, services would last hours, sometimes all day long. While I seriously doubt that many people today have the patience to sit through such a long liturgy, it is interesting to note that they did back then. However, we can also infer that aside from strict worship, the service also sought to entertain. We also read from Paul that when members got together for the Lord's Supper, they often gorged themselves as if they were strictly there for the food (1 Corinthians 11:21-22).
Over time, the Church moved from lengthy, entertaining services to shorter, worship focused liturgy. With developing theology, Mass shortened to focus more on the liturgical, worshipful aspects rather than the grandiose rhetoric and theater.
Then, during the Reformation an interesting thing happened. The Roman Church changed its liturgy to a more Baroque style with ornate art and gothic architecture. Many of the Protestant Churches, the Reformers and Anglicans especially, traded the ornamentation for simplistic, bare-walled worship, often with no music. The Protestants sought simplistic worship, with the scripture being the beginning and end. The Catholics, with their tradition and Tradition, held onto the images of saints and the writings and songs of the doctors and theologians.
As time went on, Catholicism made few changes, until Vatican II. Then, the liturgy was changed to vernacular, the priest faced the congregation for Eucharist and hymns were modernized. However, even these changes couldn't parallel the radical changes American Protestantism. In exchange for the melancholy tones of yesteryear, Christian rock bands take the stage. Where hellfire and damnation were once preached from the pulpit, today it's love for Jesus. Shame has been traded for ambition and the angry preacher for the happy-go-lucky minister.
It can be hard to decide what form of worship to adhere to. Do we stick to the old ways of yesteryear, full of bowing, crossing, genuflecting and chanting? Do we get with today's contemporary worship with rock bands, bible study, youth ministers, and interactive sermons? Or do we go with the silent adoration with no signals, no prostrations or ornamentation? Whatever way we decide to worship, the most important aspect of it is our understanding it as worship and our utilizing it as such.
Rather than genuflecting, we just sat down. There was no holy water to cross ourselves and no one bowed at the altar. We began, not with a blessing or a song, but with a rockin' rendition of some hymn I'd never heard before.
I was reminded just how different Catholicism was practically from Mormonism. Mormons show up for meetings and just sit down. and talk to people around them. They don't really stand up or sit down a whole lot and there are no responses during the service. There really are no readings to speak of, and the communion, though lauded as being the central focus of the meeting, is carried out in so quick a manner that nobody really pays attention. Two to three lay people will be asked to deliver sermons, and they will, usually to the best of their ability (or with only five minutes of prep time before the meeting). All manner of church business will be conducted before communion, usually distracting people. Kids will be crying, old men will be snoring, children will be drawing or texting or some other activity, and everybody will be hot because the AC doesn't work. Any music numbers consist of an organ, or possibly a piano or choir number between speakers.
Catholicism, however, is very big into its ceremony and sacramentals. We cross ourselves walking into the church. We genuflect before sitting down at the altar. We stand and sit and give responses. The readings are often read by lay people while the gospel and homily are done by the priest or deacon. The Eucharist is done at the end of the service with fully half of Mass devoted to the mystery of the Flesh and Blood of Christ. People are less likely to doze off because of all the constant position changing, though a few will snooze during the homily. Mass is only an hour, as opposed to Mormon's three hours of church meetings, making it more endurable for the unwilling attenders. Music is usually more traditional, with either a piano or organ, or possibly a small band, though with only accoustic instruments.
Even the more traditional Protestant churches I've attended place much less emphasis on ceremony and tradition. People just walk in, talking and sharing with each other. There are no procedures for bowing or sitting, but people do rise for readings and sermons are usually done by the minister. But the minister is not a priest, and the Communion is not viewed with the same reverence and respect as the Eucharist. Usually there's a full band, including electric guitars and basses and keyboards. Where the crossing and genuflecting is absent, however, other forms of worship are present. People stand during songs, hands outstretched and eyes closed in worship. People shout glorious alleluias and amens during sermons.
So I wonder what it is to be pious and reverent in worship. Is it dancing in the aisle? Is it Gregorian chanting? Is it abject silence as a peer reads a pre-written sermon? In my mind, worship needs to be somehow disconnected from the mundane world we live in. Our individual actions and habits we associate with worship need to be seperated from what we do at parties.
Do we talk too loudly at our services? Do we distract ourselves with the gossip of our friends and neighbors? Does the worship music distract us? Are we conducting ourselves in such a manner that we know we are in a worship service?
I find it quite fascinating to see the ways in which worship has changed over the last 2000 years. In the early days, as detailed by writers like Egeria, services would last hours, sometimes all day long. While I seriously doubt that many people today have the patience to sit through such a long liturgy, it is interesting to note that they did back then. However, we can also infer that aside from strict worship, the service also sought to entertain. We also read from Paul that when members got together for the Lord's Supper, they often gorged themselves as if they were strictly there for the food (1 Corinthians 11:21-22).
Over time, the Church moved from lengthy, entertaining services to shorter, worship focused liturgy. With developing theology, Mass shortened to focus more on the liturgical, worshipful aspects rather than the grandiose rhetoric and theater.
Then, during the Reformation an interesting thing happened. The Roman Church changed its liturgy to a more Baroque style with ornate art and gothic architecture. Many of the Protestant Churches, the Reformers and Anglicans especially, traded the ornamentation for simplistic, bare-walled worship, often with no music. The Protestants sought simplistic worship, with the scripture being the beginning and end. The Catholics, with their tradition and Tradition, held onto the images of saints and the writings and songs of the doctors and theologians.
As time went on, Catholicism made few changes, until Vatican II. Then, the liturgy was changed to vernacular, the priest faced the congregation for Eucharist and hymns were modernized. However, even these changes couldn't parallel the radical changes American Protestantism. In exchange for the melancholy tones of yesteryear, Christian rock bands take the stage. Where hellfire and damnation were once preached from the pulpit, today it's love for Jesus. Shame has been traded for ambition and the angry preacher for the happy-go-lucky minister.
It can be hard to decide what form of worship to adhere to. Do we stick to the old ways of yesteryear, full of bowing, crossing, genuflecting and chanting? Do we get with today's contemporary worship with rock bands, bible study, youth ministers, and interactive sermons? Or do we go with the silent adoration with no signals, no prostrations or ornamentation? Whatever way we decide to worship, the most important aspect of it is our understanding it as worship and our utilizing it as such.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
My God loves me more than your God does
I believe I've said this before, but perhaps the hardest thing for me about becoming Catholic was the idea of Saints. It's not that I think these people weren't great, I just have never been comfortable with the idea of praying to them. I have never really been able to fully reconcile the idea of praying to somebody who I think will relay the message on to God because their voice is better, but as I believe I've also stated before, praying to saints is more of an act of working as a community than anything else.
What I do find to be also problematic is what Peter says in Acts 10:34, that "God is no respecter of persons." If the Saints were to have more sway over God than we do, then God automatically plays favorites. Here we have to ask ourselves if this is really the case.
The Romans and Greeks believe their gods to be favortists. Aeneas had the favor of his mother Aphrodite. Odysseus angered Hera and Callisto, but had the favor of Athena. Apollo was often invoked before war in both epic and tragedy, and Zeus was often found meddling in the affairs of mortals as well.
But we are not Pagans. We do not believe in gods, or a God who plays favorites. We believe in a God who does not respect people. This does not mean that God doesn't care about His children. What this does mean, however, is that God doesn't give precedence to anybody simply because of piety, status, wealth, achievement or even righteousness.
We believe our God to be a fair God. We believe, as Barth says, that Christ's death saved not only the Jews, but also the Gentiles. We believe that no people are damned simply for being who they are. From the Catholic perspective, we don't even believe that any specific people will be going to Hell (with the notable exception of Dante's Inferno, in which he lists people who are in Hell).
In fact, we as Christians explicitly state that Deus Caritas Est (God is love). What this means from a Christian perspective is that our God embodies love. If there is anything that is love, it is of God. If there is anything that is hateful, it is most certainly not. As St. Paul states, "And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing" (1 Corinth. 13:13). It is very much against the nature of Christianity (in its purest form) and the way we view our God to even endulge malicious feelings for other people.
So as part of this, Vatican II recognized that all people who lived righteous lives, regardless of their faith, were likely going to be saved. After all, if God truly doesn't afford privelege based on creed, then why should Christians be saved while all others are damned, especially those living in remote areas of the world where Christianity is not a viable option? To me, this is what it truly means to say that God is love. God loves the Buddhist who worries that he may be walking on his ancestors as much as He loves the Christian who decorates evergreen trees in the winter time as part of some heathenistic tradition Christianity adopted hundreds of years ago. God loves the Muslim who prays to Him five times a day as much as God loves the Hindu who prays to many different gods, and countless avatars. God loves the Jew who will not eat pork out of respect as much as God loves the Mormon who won't drink coffee out of respect, or the atheist who parties all night with no respect.
Our perspective is radically shifted when we start to believe that we worship love. How can we afford to cast judgment on other people? How can we condemn other people's religious choices when God loves us no more than He loves them? How can we praise and glorify war if war is not a love-born response?
Furthermore, this should also put into perspective what lots befall us in our lives. Some believe that living righteously yields blessings while wickedness only renders sorrow. However, joy falls to the good and bad, as do the sorrows. Many people blame God when something bad happens. How can we blame God when we know that when bad things happen to us, it isn't a sign of disrepect for us, but possibly a chance for us to truly be in solidarity with others, or better yet, a chance for some great thing to come about from it? Furthermore, how can we gloat and boast of our fortunes when God could have easily and can still easily take them away?
We are at the mercy of an unbiased God. However, this should be a comfort to us. We believe that God is merciful. If God will reign down His mercy on us, as we believe, then He will also be merciful to the wicked or unjust. We are God's children, and with the parental metaphor comes the parental love that God exhibits for each of us. We may not have VIP seating in heaven, but if we're all at the same place, what is wrong with sitting with a Hindu, or a Taoist, or an agnostic? If we truly believe that Paradise is a utopia, then why would it lack diversity when the world that God created (which was good) is so full of different kinds of people?
So now we must ask, "Why Christianity?" I am reminded of the motto of the Congregation of the Holy Cross, "Ave crux, spes unica" (Hail, the cross, our only hope). As Christians, we have the unique theology of a universal redemption. We believe that our God took on the sins of all mankind in order to save all mankind. Thus, in my opinion, it makes more sense to posit faith in a belief system that theortically, and becoming ever more practically, openly embraces other faiths. If we can learn to look on all the people of the world as brothers and sisters, as Thomas Merton did, then perhaps we can all live in peace and harmony. With Christianity, we are able to look on others in love and acceptance. If we truly understand what love means, this means we pray for those who believe not as we do, not that they convert, but that we will all be together after this life in a happier state of existence.
What I do find to be also problematic is what Peter says in Acts 10:34, that "God is no respecter of persons." If the Saints were to have more sway over God than we do, then God automatically plays favorites. Here we have to ask ourselves if this is really the case.
The Romans and Greeks believe their gods to be favortists. Aeneas had the favor of his mother Aphrodite. Odysseus angered Hera and Callisto, but had the favor of Athena. Apollo was often invoked before war in both epic and tragedy, and Zeus was often found meddling in the affairs of mortals as well.
But we are not Pagans. We do not believe in gods, or a God who plays favorites. We believe in a God who does not respect people. This does not mean that God doesn't care about His children. What this does mean, however, is that God doesn't give precedence to anybody simply because of piety, status, wealth, achievement or even righteousness.
We believe our God to be a fair God. We believe, as Barth says, that Christ's death saved not only the Jews, but also the Gentiles. We believe that no people are damned simply for being who they are. From the Catholic perspective, we don't even believe that any specific people will be going to Hell (with the notable exception of Dante's Inferno, in which he lists people who are in Hell).
In fact, we as Christians explicitly state that Deus Caritas Est (God is love). What this means from a Christian perspective is that our God embodies love. If there is anything that is love, it is of God. If there is anything that is hateful, it is most certainly not. As St. Paul states, "And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing" (1 Corinth. 13:13). It is very much against the nature of Christianity (in its purest form) and the way we view our God to even endulge malicious feelings for other people.
So as part of this, Vatican II recognized that all people who lived righteous lives, regardless of their faith, were likely going to be saved. After all, if God truly doesn't afford privelege based on creed, then why should Christians be saved while all others are damned, especially those living in remote areas of the world where Christianity is not a viable option? To me, this is what it truly means to say that God is love. God loves the Buddhist who worries that he may be walking on his ancestors as much as He loves the Christian who decorates evergreen trees in the winter time as part of some heathenistic tradition Christianity adopted hundreds of years ago. God loves the Muslim who prays to Him five times a day as much as God loves the Hindu who prays to many different gods, and countless avatars. God loves the Jew who will not eat pork out of respect as much as God loves the Mormon who won't drink coffee out of respect, or the atheist who parties all night with no respect.
Our perspective is radically shifted when we start to believe that we worship love. How can we afford to cast judgment on other people? How can we condemn other people's religious choices when God loves us no more than He loves them? How can we praise and glorify war if war is not a love-born response?
Furthermore, this should also put into perspective what lots befall us in our lives. Some believe that living righteously yields blessings while wickedness only renders sorrow. However, joy falls to the good and bad, as do the sorrows. Many people blame God when something bad happens. How can we blame God when we know that when bad things happen to us, it isn't a sign of disrepect for us, but possibly a chance for us to truly be in solidarity with others, or better yet, a chance for some great thing to come about from it? Furthermore, how can we gloat and boast of our fortunes when God could have easily and can still easily take them away?
We are at the mercy of an unbiased God. However, this should be a comfort to us. We believe that God is merciful. If God will reign down His mercy on us, as we believe, then He will also be merciful to the wicked or unjust. We are God's children, and with the parental metaphor comes the parental love that God exhibits for each of us. We may not have VIP seating in heaven, but if we're all at the same place, what is wrong with sitting with a Hindu, or a Taoist, or an agnostic? If we truly believe that Paradise is a utopia, then why would it lack diversity when the world that God created (which was good) is so full of different kinds of people?
So now we must ask, "Why Christianity?" I am reminded of the motto of the Congregation of the Holy Cross, "Ave crux, spes unica" (Hail, the cross, our only hope). As Christians, we have the unique theology of a universal redemption. We believe that our God took on the sins of all mankind in order to save all mankind. Thus, in my opinion, it makes more sense to posit faith in a belief system that theortically, and becoming ever more practically, openly embraces other faiths. If we can learn to look on all the people of the world as brothers and sisters, as Thomas Merton did, then perhaps we can all live in peace and harmony. With Christianity, we are able to look on others in love and acceptance. If we truly understand what love means, this means we pray for those who believe not as we do, not that they convert, but that we will all be together after this life in a happier state of existence.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Katholikos
"We believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic Church" (Nicene Creed).
What does "catholic" mean? And what does it mean when we say "Catholic Church?"
the Greek word "katholikos" means "universal." (Thus making the term Roman Catholic not only an oxymoron but also a mix of Latin and Greek). The term was first used after the Christian Church got used to being called Christian.
The reality of it is that Christian was meant to be an insult. The Greeks and Jews used it to call the believers "followers of Christ," pointing out that they didn't worship the Greek gods nor did they follow the normal Jewish customs. After awhile, the believers took pride in this term. When the leadership of the Church (viz Paul and Peter in Acts) allowed Gentiles into their ranks, they earned the distinction of being "universal."
Fast forward a few centuries. The Church gets the distinction of Roman after Great Schism. It becomes a matter of Rome versus Constantinople. Hence we end up with Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic.
Within the last few centuries, the Catholic Church has distinguished itself in as a conservative way as possible. Trent and Vatican I established the Church in a reactionary light. Then, in the twentieth centuries, figures such as Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day step into the picture. Both of them "leftists."
Then, after the reactions of Trent and Vatican I, Vatican II comes along and establishes many liberal policies for the Church. Pope John Paul II then preaches his doctrine of solidarity, and Mother Theresa of Calcutta. Over the course of fifty years, the big figures of the Church become some of the most liberal figures in the world.
Thus, the term "universal" truly becomes applicable. On one hand we have such conservative figures as Cardinal Ratzinger, and on the other hand, we have people like Dorothy Day. In the Catholic Tradition one can be anarchist, republican, democratic, socialist, capitalist, or libertarian.
So here's where it becomes applicable. In the news recently, and in viewpoint articles, Notre Dame has received a lot of flack for allowing President Obama to speak at our commencement. Some proclaim that this is against our Catholic identity. But, truth be told, it seems as though not only is taking a leftist stance within Catholic Tradition, but there are, in fact, great examples for it.
What does "catholic" mean? And what does it mean when we say "Catholic Church?"
the Greek word "katholikos" means "universal." (Thus making the term Roman Catholic not only an oxymoron but also a mix of Latin and Greek). The term was first used after the Christian Church got used to being called Christian.
The reality of it is that Christian was meant to be an insult. The Greeks and Jews used it to call the believers "followers of Christ," pointing out that they didn't worship the Greek gods nor did they follow the normal Jewish customs. After awhile, the believers took pride in this term. When the leadership of the Church (viz Paul and Peter in Acts) allowed Gentiles into their ranks, they earned the distinction of being "universal."
Fast forward a few centuries. The Church gets the distinction of Roman after Great Schism. It becomes a matter of Rome versus Constantinople. Hence we end up with Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic.
Within the last few centuries, the Catholic Church has distinguished itself in as a conservative way as possible. Trent and Vatican I established the Church in a reactionary light. Then, in the twentieth centuries, figures such as Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day step into the picture. Both of them "leftists."
Then, after the reactions of Trent and Vatican I, Vatican II comes along and establishes many liberal policies for the Church. Pope John Paul II then preaches his doctrine of solidarity, and Mother Theresa of Calcutta. Over the course of fifty years, the big figures of the Church become some of the most liberal figures in the world.
Thus, the term "universal" truly becomes applicable. On one hand we have such conservative figures as Cardinal Ratzinger, and on the other hand, we have people like Dorothy Day. In the Catholic Tradition one can be anarchist, republican, democratic, socialist, capitalist, or libertarian.
So here's where it becomes applicable. In the news recently, and in viewpoint articles, Notre Dame has received a lot of flack for allowing President Obama to speak at our commencement. Some proclaim that this is against our Catholic identity. But, truth be told, it seems as though not only is taking a leftist stance within Catholic Tradition, but there are, in fact, great examples for it.
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