Active Participation

In my missal (inherited from my Father, [Society of St John the Evangelist/Desclée & Co, 1948, with changes post-1956] who bought it in 1973), there is an interesting note with regard to the new liturgy for Palm Sunday.

The english (sic) texts of pp 382 - 558 are those of the "Holy Week Manual" published in 1956 by Burnes and Oates, London, and Desclée & Co, Tournai.

[There is then an overview of the new rite, which concludes:]

In the new rite of "Palm Sunday" the active participation of the people is provided for: -

(1) The blessing of palms is to be done in sight of the congregation and facing it; and for this the people may hold their own palms and have them sprinkled and censed in their places.
(2) The people are to take part in the procession, walking after the celebrant, carrying their palms; and women are not excluded from this procession.
(3) The congregation is to sing the responses, and if possible, the refrain Gloria laus; and it may add the hymn Christus vincit, or another one, in honour of the Christ-King.
(4) The final (new) prayer at the end of the first part of the rite is to be sung facing the people.

I am not going to comment here on the wisdom of these changes, nor the principle apparently established, that the Church could create new rites in this way.

Rather, my attention was caught by the phrase 'active participation of the people.'  This was clearly a key idea of the liturgical movement, and what interests me is how modest were the provisions made for participation, compared to those unleashed by Bugnini after the Council.

Because, and this is the point I wish to make, I was struck by the probability  indeed the near certainty - that when the Council Fathers voted for more active participation, what most will have had in mind is the modest types of provision that they had experienced since the changes of 1955, as listed above.   Clearly there is nothing here that remotely presages what actually was done in the name of that simple phrase.

Thanks, Bugnini

This Friday's Mass is one of my favourite (?) examples of the supreme illiteracy of those who imposed their new liturgy on us.

The first reading is from the Apocalypse (10: 8-11): the leitmotif is: 'it was sweet as honey in my mouth, but when I had eaten it, my stomach turned sour.'

Prompted by this, the chosen Psalm is Psalm 118, and the chosen refrain is: 'Your promise is sweet to my taste, O Lord.'

I defy anyone with any literary sensibility not to find himself adding, mentally: 'but when I had eaten it, my stomach turned sour.'

A few things strike me: the first is, that is how literature and performative art work. A theme is established and developed, and the reader or listener is expected (and rightly) to make the links between what has gone before and what follows.

The second is, I do not believe that those who compiled the Lectionary wanted us to make that (almost inevitable) link. Surely they were not wanting us to internalise the notion that the Lord's promise will turn our stomachs.

So the third is, those who compiled the Lectionary simply did not understand (this aspect of) what they were doing.

But then, I am that rigid sort of chap whom the Holy Father excoriates; I strive to make sense of what the Church teaches, and have a preference for clarity and coherence over muddle and mess.

The Clericalism of Bugnini

In my recent review of the new LMS booklet, I wrote, inter alia:  'traditionally, the Faithful were not told how they had to pray the Mass: there was licence for many different ways, allowing for the Catholicity of the Church. It is a recent (post-Vatican II) innovation to require us to behave and pray in the way Bugnini and his confrères thought we should.'

(As an aside: I was interested, as I was drafting this post, to notice that Ttony makes a reference to the same point here "...if you wanted to follow the bizarrely mid-twentieth century idea that you should be reading the words the priest was saying, rather than praying the Mass.  [snip...] The age of literacy has been used by the Devil to tempt us into trying to understand Mass on our own terms, instead of praying it on God's."  And his post reminded me of an earlier one of mine, on the heresy of understanding. We do go on about the same things over and over, we traditionally-minded people...)

A few sentences later in my review, I wrote: 'also line drawings (by Steffano Mazzeo) showing the posture of priest (and server where appropriate) at different points in the Mass.'

Putting these two facts together, I realise with renewed clarity the incredible clericalism of Bugnini's approach.

Formerly, the priest was tightly bound by the rubrics: he had to do just what he had to do: nothing more and nothing less. The congregation were free to pray as the Spirit moved them.

In the new rite, that has been reversed: the priest seems able to take incredible liberties with the Mass, in both word and gesture; the congregation are marshalled into a single way of praying, and indeed behaving (there are local variations, but within any particular parish, the peer pressure to do it the way we do it here is enormous).

That seems to me to be both the worst sort of clericalism and a very poor way to treat the Mass - and the Faithful.

It also reminds me, I should get back to reading Bugnini - perhaps a suitably penitential resolution for Advent...

Bugnini on translation

I have just read the section in Bugnini's book about translation. Whilst I have to approach most of the issues he deals with as an amateur and outsider, here is a topic I actually know a little about.

And that leads me to be even more critical of the story he tells.

Here are the guidelines the Consilium offered.

'In Liturgical communication three points must be considered: 

a) What is being said in the original text. Translators must identify the content of the message and give it a new form that is both accurate and agreeable. They must apply the scientific methods of textual and literary criticism that the experts have developed. (1) 

b) The addressee of the text. The language used must be accessible to majority of the faithful, including children and uneducated folk. It must not, however, be "common" in the bad sense but must be beyond blame from the literary standpoint. (2) 

c) The manner and form of expression are integral elements in oral communication. The literary genre of any text depends on the nature of the ritual action. It is one thing to utter an acclamation, another to offer a petition or proclaim or read or sing. 

(1) The instruction is here saying that translations should not always be word for word since this can obscure the overall sense of the message. In Latin, the accumulation of words reinforces the meaning as, for example, in the series "ratam, rationabilem, acceptabilemque" in the Roman Canon; in modern languages, on the other hand, such a use of three adjectives may have the opposite effect. In his observations the Pope warned against "arbitrary and subjective manipulations" of the original and gave a humorous example : the translation of 'mea culpa' by a modern man of letters who follows the principles set down: 'It was I; yes it was I; there is nothing more to say.' " 

(2) Note of the Holy Father: "The Italian translation of the Mass is not quite perfect when measured by this standard (dovunque instead of dappertuto, mai instead of non mai, and so on)."

There is so much that could be said about all this. Paragraph a) is very interesting. Why the suggestion of a 'new form?' What is meant by 'agreeable?'  The scientific methods of the experts was not an area of settled agreement in the 1960s (it still isn't: translation is more of an art than a science, see Bellos' delightful book Is that a fish in your ear? for a good discussion of this). But in the 1960s, the whole business of textual and literary criticism was politicised, and subject to all manner of 'progressive' theories, not least concepts from post-modernism such as deconstruction, championed by the likes of Derrida and Foucault.

So the Consilium's exhortation to 'apply the scientific methods' of the 'experts' opened wide a very unstable door...

Paragraph b) seems to me even more problematic. In the first place, the assumption seems to be that the addressee of the liturgy is the congregation. But the Catholic understanding has always been that the Liturgy is addressed to God the Father (cf CCC §1083).  My second concern is the stipulation that the language should be intelligible to children and uneducated folk. This could be taken two ways: it could mean that the language 'must be intelligible once explained to...' or it could mean that it 'must be intelligible on first hearing to...' 

The first of these would be a good principle; but the second is what was applied (at least in English and French, the languages I understand  in which I have attended Mass), and has led to the disastrous dumbing down of the liturgy. For if you take something as rich as the Liturgy and so redact it as to make it fully intelligible, on first hearing, to children and the uneducated, you inevitably do two other things. One is that you lose a lot of the meaning; the second is that you make it dull for the intelligent, and for children as they grow older, and for the uneducated on umpteenth hearing: it simply lacks the richness that would allow people to discover more and more in it over time. Those two principles, directing the liturgy at the people, and making it so simple that a child can understand it on first hearing, have been large contributors to the infantilisation of the liturgy (a fruit of which I have commented on here, in my one and only post to get official kudos from Fr Z.)

The exhortation that it must not 'be "common" in the bad sense but must be beyond blame from the literary standpoint,' would be more helpful if it led to some more specific guidance. As it stands, it invites such subjective judgement to be meaningless.

Paragraph c) seems to me to be a practically meaningless platitude. It offers no helpful criteria by which one could guide or evaluate one's work as a translator, merely an exhortation to bear in mind what any competent translator would always bear in mind.

But as so often with Bugnini, the footnotes are as interesting as the main text.

The first footnote contains three distinct elements. The first is a truth that has been known from the time of the ancient Greeks, who distinguished between metaphrase (a very literal, word-for-word translation) and paraphrase (the attempt to find words and phrases that convey the meaning accurately to a speaker of the language into which a text is being translated). It resurfaced in the 1960s (of course) as a new theory of 'dynamic equivalence' (courtesy of Eugene Nida). Nida seems to have varied in what he meant by 'dynamic equivalence.' Sometimes it was the same as the classical paraphrase, but sometimes he insisted it meant finding a translation that would have the same effect on the recipient in the new language as the original text would have had on someone who was a native speaker of the original language. Clearly,when one is operating across centuries as well as languages, that approach is somewhat conjectural. It is, however, the animating principle of many recent translations of the Bible.

The second element is the comment about the accumulation of words. Here Bugnini is guilty of so gross a generalisation that I shudder. The three words in the example he cites are not homonyms. Each has a different meaning and a different set of resonances: this is not just rhetorical repetition. So a good translator will strive to find a way to convey that richness: it is lazy to say 'Oh, Latin likes repetition to add emphasis. I'll omit the repetition and find a word to cover all three.'

Moreover, even if the words are identical, or nearly so, as in mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, it is not necessarily idle repetition. In the first place, any student of rhetoric knows the power of the three part list: and that is not unique to Latin (consider Shakespeare, who frequently uses the device [cry God for Harry, England and Saint George; tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow etc]  or the slogan of the French revolution, or the Nazi slogan Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer and so on.).

But it has further resonance in Catholicism. Any three part list (Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus) immediately recalls the Blessed Trinity. It may also recall the three days of Our Lord's death, and associated with that, the three days that Isaac was under sentence of death, that Jonah spent in the whale, that Our Lord was lost as a child, and so on. In the instance of the mea culpa, and likewise the triple Domine non sum dignus,  we think of Peter's triple denial of Our Lord, and Our Lord's triple command that he should feed His sheep in response.

To talk of these as an accumulation to add emphasis that only works in Latin is absurd. That false understanding has impoverished us.

The third element is the Holy Father's joke. But it seems to me that the joke was criticising the Consilium's principles, not endorsing them. And guess what? The Holy Father's criticisms, as so often, carried no weight with the experts.

The second footnote is another criticism by the Holy Father of the work done by the translators: Bugnini does not record any amendment as a result.

As well as these problems with the guidelines that were issued, there are more considerable problems with what was not said with regard to the criteria for translation.

Given that any translation of a long text is to some extent interpretive, weaving skilfully (if well done) between metaphrase (where possible) and paraphrase (where necessary), I should have thought it essential to provide some guidelines for that interpretive task. I would suggest complete fidelity to the meaning of the texts as understood by tradition, preceding Church teachings (eg how the texts have been quoted by Councils etc) and the writings of the Fathers of the Church; informed by an awareness of the contextual resonance of the text under consideration (eg the issues around three-fold repetition to which I referred earlier).

Th other important issue, I believe, is an understanding of liturgical language. The principle at b) above, as articulated, and particularly as applied in practice, misses an important linguistic feature of any serious  liturgical language (and not just in the Catholic liturgy): it is hieratic. That is to say, it is not the language of every day use, but rather a heightened language, reserved for formal public prayer to God. See my posts here for more on hieratic language, and here for more on translating the Bible and Missal.

Poor translation wasn't the only problem with the liturgical reforms, by any means, but it was certainly a major one, and one which I believe has contributed to generations of children (and indeed adults) abandoning the Mass as it seemed to have so little to offer them... Who needs to go to something that sounds like an infant school assembly on a Sunday morning, after all?

Dodgy Dutch

As I continue to wade through Bugnini's auto-hagiography, one of the recurrent issues is the Dutch church. They are for ever pushing the boundaries in every way.  For example: 'The Dutch were unwilling to translate the Roman liturgical books, but preferred to give rein to local free creativity.' (!) In fact as early as March 1965, long before authorised, 'translations of the Canon were beginning to circulate, along with texts o f new Eucharistic Prayers.' Nothing was done about this, of course: it merely provided the Consilium with the rationale to rush ahead with ditching Latin altogether, and writing their own, approved, new Eucharistic Prayers. At this stage, too, the Dutch bishops 'in order to retain control of liturgical development' were pressing for permission to 'develop and revise the presidential prayers of the Mass, to translate the Canon and the rites of holy orders, to use other Eucharistic Prayers that would be approved by the Holy See, to allow the laity to distribute communion, and to let them do so by placing the sacred host in the hand of the faithful.'

And then of course, there was the infamous Dutch Catechism (1966), written by Schillebeeckx et al. This was found to be defective by the Holy See, in its presentation of original sin and related doctrines, Christ's atoning satisfaction and sacrifice, the sacrificial character of the Mass, the priestly nature of the ordained ministry, the Church's teaching authority and various other issues, including suggesting that artificial contraception was legitimate.  But it was fiercely defended by the Dutch bishops, and there was a nasty propaganda campaign run against the Holy See for having the temerity to point out its defects and demand that future editions contain a supplement to pull it back towards Catholic teaching.

I don't know much about the history of the Church in the Low Countries. The hierarchy seems to have been heroic, though possibly naive, during the Second World War, openly denouncing the Nazis. But since then, the Dutch Church seems to have moved further and further from orthopraxis and then from orthodoxy. Liturgically, even before the Second Vatican Council, it seems to have been 'creative.' The Dutch Catechism suggests that heteropraxis and heterodoxy went hand in hand - a lesson that is also applicable closer to home, of course.

Bugnini for Lent

It is now about ten months since I got my own copy of Bugnini's Reform of the Roman Liturgy. But I have not read a great deal of it over that period, for various reasons, and have not blogged on what I have been reading.

But it is Lent: surely a time for works of penance and mortification, so I turn to Bugnini once more.

Looking back over the chapters I have read since I got my own copy (and of course the joy of working with my own copy rather than a library copy is that I can scribble in the margins) there are a few themes that emerge.

One is the self-confidence, or arrogance or... well you decide what is the right description of someone who could write this:

The renewal was gradually making its way even into the functions of the papal chapel, which, step by step, were being transformed into true sacred celebrations with participation of the congregation. (My emphasis: what does he think they were previously?)

and this:

That beginning (of the liturgical reform) was described as the day when " the entire Church was empowered to sing the glory of God in the languages of the Faithful." (It is odd to think that all those hymns written, for example, by Fr Faber, were never sung until then...)

Another theme is the speed of the changes. Sacrosanctum Concilium was published in December 1963; the much more radical Inter Oecumenici was published by Bugnini's Consilium in March 1965, giving official authorisation for the use of the vernacular in some parts of the Mass. By November 1965, Bugnini's address to the presidents of the national liturgical commissions, included: 'Now that Latin has been abandoned, at least in large measure...'  Of course, both SC and IO said that Latin should not and would not be abandoned.

A third theme is the degree of secrecy involved in the developments. 'The Cardinal President... exhorted all the participants in these meetings to be very prudent in letting others know of their work.' Likewise, the Taizé community was to be given permission to use the third anaphora 'but without publicity.'  Such secrecy was to protect the changes, both from the danger of people going much further than was permitted (which might provoke a backlash) and from those already profoundly upset.

Related to that was the concern to manage the reaction of those not directly involved: 'After the promulgation of Consilium documents, the press should endeavour to make them known to the Christian people, explaining and presenting them in a favorable light.' Likewise, 'It would be very helpful if the press were given advance notice of the publication of a document so that it might prepare public opinion and create an anticipation that will ease the way for the document.' Though a footnote suggests that the press were not quite the poodle that Bugnini wanted: 'Some difficulties hindered ready action:... captiousness and factionalism on the part of some journalists...'

A fourth theme is the sense that the agenda was on a pre-determined course, which even the Holy Father could not stop. The changes to the Roman Canon are a case in point. The Pope had specifically said that there were to be none; and that the Canon should normally be used. But he was over-ruled by the experts, and successive changes were made, including; 'The Fathers (that is the Fathers on the Consilium, not the Council - BT) also unanimously approved making the words of consecration in the Roman Canon identical with those of the new Eucharistic Prayers', and later: 'revisions to the Roman Canon so that comparison with the new Eucharistic Prayers might not lead to its neglect.' Surely, the Eucharistic Prayers could have been brought into line with the unchanged Canon (or better still, 'neglected' themselves, into oblivion...)

Likewise, the celebration of Mass facing the people simply was not seen as important by the Council Fathers or the Pope. But Bugnini cites 'a generally felt need' as his authority: and the rest is history.

The Council Fathers had ordered that Latin be retained as the language of the Liturgy, with permission for vernacular in some parts. But the Consilium was happy, by 1966, to order bishops: 'In bilingual areas, the bishops must see to it that each language is respected and that its speakers have celebrations available in their own tongue'; and also condescend to allow: 'It is only right that the Ordinaries would consider the eventual possibility of having some Masses celebrated in Latin....' All of which completely reverse the Council Fathers' priorities as decreed in Sacrosanctum Concilium.

The Holy Father also warned of tendencies that were a cause of 'anxiety and pain' including: 

'those who contend that liturgical worship should be stripped of its sacred character and who therefore erroneously believe that no sacred objects or ornaments should be used, but that objects of common, everyday use should be substituted. Their own rashness leads some so far that they do not spare the sacred place of celebration. Such notions, we must insist, not only distort the genuine nature of the liturgy, but the true meaning of the Catholic religion. 

In simplifying liturgical rites, formularies, and actions, there must be care not to go further than necessary and not to neglect the importance to be given to liturgical signs. That would open the way to weakening the power and effectiveness of the liturgy.'

But he had let the genie out of the bottle, and he could not contain it thereafter.

A fifth theme is the salami slice approach. Small change after small change, until as Fr. Gelineau, one of the many experts closely involved with the project (see here) candidly said:  In fact it is a different liturgy of the mass. We must say it plainly: the Roman rite as we knew it exists no more. It has gone. Some walls of the structure have fallen, others have been altered; we can look at it as a ruin or as the partial foundation of a new building. 

This was a deliberate strategy, and we can trace the progression from the modest proposals of the Council Fathers, which suggested that the Epistle and Gospel might be read in the vernacular, through the more radical ones of Inter Oecumenici  which suppressed Psalm 42 at the start, and the Leonine prayers after Mass, and changed the formula at the distribution of Holy Communion, to the new Mass promulgated in 1969, with the Canon changed and made optional, the Offertory removed and replaced, and so on. Another classic example is the admission of women into the sanctuary during the Liturgy, against the will of the Holy Father; a process I have described here.

The final thing I noticed is that there was widespread demand for change. How widespread it is hard to ascertain, but there is no doubt that the Consilium received requests from all over the world for permission to press ahead more rapidly and more radically than it was able to do. Whether that was the result of small but organised groups of progressive liturgists persuading local bishops, or whether there was a much wider popular demand - and how much that may have been stimulated by the type of press approach Bugnini deliberately fostered - it is impossible to say from his text. But we should not forget that it did exist: if the Consilium had not been pushing on an oiled door, things might have been very different.

More on (the inadmissability of) Women in the Sanctuary

In picking up my Bugnini to research Fr Gelineau's role in the liturgical changes (see here), I happened to stumble across some references to the admission of women to the sanctuary, a topic on which I have blogged previously (see here for example), which I thought very interesting.

On January 25, 1966 the Consilium (the body charged to study the liturgy and suggest reforms, in the light of Sacrosanctum Concilium) of which Fr Bugnini was the secretary, issued the second of three letters it sent to all the presidents of episcopal conferences.

It covered a number of topics.  The seventh was to do with 'the liturgical ministry of women at the altar.' As Bugnini summarises it: 'In some places such a ministry has been introduced, at times with a somewhat comical effect (female altar servers wearing surplices). The letter states that according to the legislation presently in force, such a ministry is not allowed.'

As so often with Bugnini, it is the footnote that is really revealing:

There was nonetheless to be an evolution. Requests came chiefly from communities of women and places where it was not easy to find a layman capable of proclaiming the readings in the vernacular, especially in mission countries. A statement regarding these cases was presented to the Holy Father on April 21, 1966. On June 6 the Secretariat of State replied: 'The Holy Father has deigned to decree that this favour may be granted in places where true necessity requires it only for the readings and the leading of the singing; it is to be done outside the sanctuary, by well-known women of adequate years and moral way of life, preferably religious women.' Individual concessions were granted in these precise terms. Then the requests became more widespread, and the GIRM made the concession universal but without changing the conditions: no laymen available; a suitable woman; office exercised outside the sanctuary (see GIRM 1970 no. 66). 

The third instruction (Liturgicae instaurationes) of September 5, 1970, no. 5, introduced a further small extension when it said that women could proclaim the readings, the intentions for the prayer of the faithful, and the admonitions from a place where they could be easily heard with the aid of modern technological means (this was a roundabout way of saying they could go to the lectern). The instruction added that more detailed dispositions regarding place were to be given by the episcopal conferences. In the second edition of the Missal (1975) all the casuistic detail has disappeared, and it is said simply that the episcopal conferences can allow capable women to proclaim the readings and the intentions for the prayer of the faithful and can determine in greater detail the place from which this is to be done (no. 70). Thus there was a slow evolution that took in account the varying degrees of maturity and sensibility to be encountered in different places.

There is lots of interest here: I will pick up on just a few points.

The Holy Father (Paul VI) clearly thought that women should not normally be admitted to the sanctuary during the liturgy (the historic exception, of course, being the Nuptial Mass).

Bugnini and his like clearly thought that they should: this was progress, or 'evolution.'

Bugnini and his like won, via the typical 'hard case' to 'every day normal' slippery slope.

The issue was not addressed by proper process or scrutiny, but by gradualism.

Even at that time, there was no question of legitimising women or girls acting as altar servers. That, in fact, was done by the strange (but all-too-familiar) process of firstly acting in disobedience to the known liturgical law, and then raising a dubium, or question of doubt, about something where there was no doubt. The Vatican then gave the wrong answer (ie the answer that women were permitted to serve) when clearly from the Holy Father's statement quoted here, as well as from many other sources of text and tradition (dating back demonstrably at least to the late fourth century) that was not the case.

And I think it will be very hard to put the genii back in the bottle.

The FIUV position paper on male-only servers (in the EF) is well worth reading.

Fr Joseph Gelineau, SJ

I was struck by the quotation here of Fr Gelineau's words, some of which I had seen before. I was aware that he had said that the Roman Rite had been destroyed. I was not aware that he had said that the Liturgy was a permanent workshop (or possibly as my friend Ttony has pointed out, 'studio', if the French word used were atelier.)

But the quotation touched on something Ttony and I have discussed, which made me draw him to Ttony's attention on Twitter (@themunimentroom, of the excellent blog of that name).

I should know better. Ttony's response was to suggest that I look him up in Bugnini's index. That seemed a good idea: apart from that quotation, all I knew of him was his psalmody. So what was his role in the Reform (sic) of the Liturgy? 

As the family were all out this morning, and after walking the dog, of course, I sat down with Bugnini.  Here are the fruits of my labours. There are 14 references to Fr Gélineau (sic) in Bugnini's index.

1  Director of Song (sic) at the first outing in French (in private, as a trial) of the new Ordo Missae   (Oct 22, 1965) (p152) 

2 Paper at Conference of Translators of Liturgical Books (November 9 - 13 1965) ‘seventeen papers by great masters of the international liturgical world, among them Martimort, Pascher, Matéos, Tilmann, Bruylants, Roguet, and Gélineau (sic).’ (p221) 

3 Member of Group 10 of the Consilium (as expanded in 1967), studying the Order Of Mass (p337) 

4 A member of a group convened to refute the Pope’s wishes about the new rite of the Mass. ‘The whole matter caused some dismay, since the Pope seemed to be limiting the Consilium’s freedom of research by using his authority to impose solutions. Least convinced of all were the experts, who saw not a few difficulties in reducing the Pope’s wishes to practice. A special committee of Fathers and consulters was elected’ - including Gelineau as an expert  (1968). The politics of this are not quite clear, but Bugnini adds a footnote: ‘It seems that the special committee appointed by the Consilium was the result of a “secret” agreement reached at a limited gathering of German and French periti (experts) at the French College on April 23.’ (p370) 

5 Relator for the sub-committee of Group 10 convened to ‘deal with’ Eucharistic Prayer IV. (?1966)  (p450, note) 

6 Member of the special study group convened (1971) to look at the problem of widespread use of unauthorised Eucharistic Prayers. Charged with looking specifically at ‘forms of congregational participation.’ (p467 notes) 

7 Member of the study group set up (1973) to compose Eucharistic Prayers for Children. (p478 note) 

8 Key member of the Eucharistic Prayers for Children group: ‘The third meeting was attended only by the men chiefly responsible for the redaction of the prayers (Fischer, Gélineau (sic), Rennings and Rimaud), the observers…’ (1974) (p479) 

9 Member of the group (12bis) set up to look at the intercessions in Lauds and Vespers (1967) with subsequent responsibility for composing intercessions for Advent, along with Patino. (p556 notes) 

10 Member of Universa Laus, ‘an International Study Group on Song and Music in the Liturgy, …founded at Lugano in April 1966.’  There was some controversy about whether the (self-established) Universa Laus was encroaching on the work proper to the Holy See’s Consociato Internationalis Musicae Sacrae. Bugnini is clearly on the side of Universa Laus. ‘The Consilium… urged that there should be no misconception of what Universa Laus was doing; at the same time it advised that the position and the competencies of the Consociato be clearly stated. These two goals were accomplished through communications between Monsignor Overath on behalf of the Consociato and from Father J. Gélineau (sic) on behalf of Universa Laus.' (p889) 

11 One of the experts consulted about the Instruction on Sacred Music in 1965 (p901 note) 

12 He is mentioned the controversy surrounding the Instruction on Sacred Music (1966): ‘The emphasis is on the Consilium not having followed the Pope’s instructions, whereas the musicians did follow them. Father Gélineau (sic) is twice attacked, on the grounds that some points in the instruction depended on his ideas, as though the document was aiming to canonize these ideas.’ (p910 note) 

13 Member of the study group convened (1973) to ‘lend its assistance in matters liturgical to the Central Commission for the Holy Year’ which was to be celebrated in 1974-1975 (p924) 

14 Listed as a Consultor to the Consilium in the Appendix (p946)

Fr Gelineau died in 2008: Requiescat in pace.

Had one time enough, (and need of great penance) it would be interesting to do the same exercise for some of the other experts...

However, it did make me think that for Lent I should resume reading my Bugnini and recording my impressions as I go. I have had a bit of a break, but Lent seems a good time to resume.

So thanks, in the sincerest possible way, to Ttony for that...

UPDATE (updated)

According to Paul Inwood, here, there is no accent on the e in Gelineau's name. I was led astray by Bugnini (with thanks to Lazurus for pointing out the Inwood tribute). I have now corrected this, except where I am directly quoting Bugnini.

Septuagesima

Today, in the traditional calendar, is Septuagesima. 

This begins the count-down to Lent and Easter: so, for example, there is no Gloria in today's (EF) Mass, and Alleluia is not used in the liturgy. The Alleluia before the Gospel is replaced by the Tract; today's is:

From the depths I have cried to thee, O Lord; Lord hear my voice.  
Let thine ears be attentive to the prayer of thy servant.  
If thou shalt observe iniquities, O Lord, Lord, who shall endure it?  
For with thee is propitiation, and by reason of thy law I have waited for thee, O Lord.

Curiously, while Quinquagesima is indeed 50 days before Easter as its name would suggest, Sexagesima and Septuagesima are not 60 and 70 days before Easter, because they fall on Sundays, 

This period of pre-Lenten preparation has been replaced in the new Calendar by a few Sundays of Ordinary Time; these are then resumed after Pentecost, as a further set of Ordinary Time Sundays.  In former times (and still, if one celebrates according to the traditional calendar) these were the Sundays after Pentecost.

In my view, these changes are an impoverishment.  The seasons of the Church year used to be a constant reminder of one or other of the great mysteries of our Faith.  It seems particularly ironic that in the wake of the Second Vatican Council, when we were all supposed to be so much more aware of the work of the Holy Spirit in the Church today, we should have removed the reference to the descent of the Holy Spirit in our counting of the Sundays after Pentecost, and replaced them with 'Ordinary.'

If I had my way, we'd call them Ghostly Sundays, in honour of the Holy Ghost, and because it would be such a great name!

However, Bugnini and his allies had other ideas:

The Septuagesima season is suppressed, and the three Sundays making it up become Sundays of Ordinary Time.
Also suppressed, as a title, is "Passiontide." The whole of it now becomes, even externally, part of Lent.

This seems to my to typify much of the impoverishment of Bugnini's changes. Instead of the emotional crescendo of Septuagesima - Lent - Passiontide - the Triduum, we now have a binary system: Ordinary time to Lent.  Likewise with the suppression of the Octave of Pentecost, we have Pentecost, then Ordinary time.

It is all very logical and all very much poorer.

What we lose is what I call resonance, and relates to what I blogged about here, regarding a symphonic analogy for liturgy. There is a richness and a depth to traditional liturgy, in the same way there is a richness and a depth to family customs and rituals around birthdays and Christmas.  The way the Mass had developed, organically, over the years led to many such felicities.

The writing of a new Mass by committee, and particularly a committee that took such a reductionist and mono linear approach, stripped all these away. They seem to have been actively hostile to popular piety, and to anything that did not conform to a rigid, and simplistic, analysis of the structure of the ideal Mass. The analogy with architecture is also relevant (cf my extended metaphor here).

--
Anyway, to start our preparation for Lent, here is the hymn Attende Domine:

Attende Domine, et miserere, quia peccavimus tibi.

Ad te Rex summe, omnium redemptor, oculos nostros sublevamus flentes: exaudi, Christe, supplicantum preces. 

Dextera Patris, lapis angularis, via salutis, ianua caelestis, ablue nostri maculas delicti.

Rogamus, Deus, tuam maiestatem: auribus sacris gemitus exaudi: crimina nostra placidus indulge. 

Tibi fatemur crimina admissa: contrito corde pandimus occulta: tua Redemptor, pietas ignoscat. 

Innocens captus, nec repugnans ductus, testibus falsis pro impiis damnatus: quos redemisti, tu conserva, Christe.

Hearken, O Lord, and have mercy, for we have sinned against Thee.

Crying, we raise our eyes to Thee, Sovereign King, Redeemer of all. Listen, Christ, to the pleas of the supplicant sinners. 

Thou art at the Right Hand of God the Father, the Keystone, the Way of salvation and 

Gate of Heaven, cleanse the stains of our sins. 

O God, we beseech Thy majesty to hear our groans; to forgive our sins.

We confess to Thee our consented sins; we declare our hidden sins with contrite heart; in Thy mercy, O Redeemer, forgive them.

Thou wert captured, being innocent; brought about without resistance, condemned by impious men with false witnesses. O Christ keep safe those whom Thou hast redeemed. 

Feast of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Happy Feast Day to all my readers, on the 160th anniversary of the solemn dogmatic definition of the Immaculate Conception by Pope Pius IX.

The Immaculate Conception, of course, was not 'invented' then; indeed it was celebrated here in England before the Norman Conquest; and has been the subject of some of the most beautiful writings of the Fathers of the Church.

I was interested to see the differences between the old Lectionary and the New for today's Feast; and they were rather suggestive. However, I have insufficient time to write about them now, so that must wait for another occasion - perhaps next year (don't hold your breath).  Or you could always go and look them up yourself!

More on Passiontide

Following my recent lament about the suppression of Passiontide, I have had some interesting correspondence with Fr Francis Coveney, who emailed me as he did not know how to post a comment. He has confirmed he is happy for me to post anything he has written that might be of interest, so I am posting all the relevant parts of both his emails (with gratitude for an interesting contribution - I love this stuff, learning as I go...)

 In his first email, he wrote, (inter alia):

The Preface in the Missal to be used during the 5^th week of Lent is described as “Preface I of the Passion of the Lord”.

Before the 5^th Sunday of Lent, the prefaces used are either one of the four general Prefaces for Lent – or one of the special Sunday Prefaces (with references to the Year A gospels).

So I think we can still legitimately refer to the Fifth Sunday of Lent as being the First Sunday in Passiontide.

Preface I of the Passion of the Lord” states: “It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation......For through the saving Passion of your Son the whole world has received a heart to confess the infinite power of your majesty since by the wondrous power of the Cross your judgement on the world is now revealed and the authority of Christ crucified....”

And in “Ceremonies of the Liturgical Year” (ISBN 0-89870-829-x) Bishop Peter J Elliot  writes:

“As is already noted, the First Preface of the Passion is used during the Fifth Week of Lent, marking the beginning of the last phase of Lent, traditionally known as Passiontide. The custom of veiling crosses and images in these last two weeks of Lent has much to commend it in terms of religious psychology, because it helps us to concentrate on the great essentials of Christ’s work of Redemption. The Episcopal conference decides whether this should be obligatory within its territory  (33) but any pastor may choose to restore or maintain this wise practise in his own parish. The violet veils should preferably be made of a plain light fabric, without any decoration. The Stations of the Cross and images in stained-glass windows are never veiled. Crosses and images are veiled before the First Vespers or vigil Mass of the Fifth Sunday of Lent. Crosses are unveiled after the Good Friday ceremonies. All other images are unveiled, without any ceremony, just before the Easter Vigil begins.”  Page 67-68

(33) Cf. Missale Romanum, Fifth Sunday of Lent; Circular Letter concerning the Preparation and Celebration of the Easter Feasts, no. 26

To which I replied (inter alia):

I am always happy to be corrected when I get things wrong: in fact one of the best things about blogging is that many well-informed people pick me up on things, and so I have learned a lot (I introduced a tag 'Ben gets it wrong again' recently, but have not tagged nearly as many posts with that as perhaps I should.)

However, I remain confused as regards Passiontide. 

On the one hand, there are the points you have made, which were new to me; on the other, hand, we have Bugnini's statement, the official Bishops' calendar, and at least my Sunday (CTS) Missal. The preface for the Fifth Sunday (as opposed to the weekdays) is the one referring to the Samaritan Woman (Year A) or Preface 1 or 2 of Lent (other years). Also, today seems now to be called Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord, which would be odd if last Sunday were still Passion Sunday.

To which he kindly replied (inter alia) 

I am not an expert on Liturgy - and I have not read Bugnini - but........ 

1. It is definitely permitted - i would say recommended but not compulsory -  to veil images and crucifixes from the 5th Sunday of Lent 

A priest in another diocese, who has a License in Liturgy, once told me that if something was not forbidden in the Liturgy changes following the Second Vatican Council then it is still permitted and encouraged. 

He was referring to the use of bells at the Consecration. 

Some minimalists (including Bugnini?) tried to abolish the use of bells because they are not (as far as I know) specifically mentioned in the General Instruction to the Roman Missal. 

But my informant says they are still permitted - and encouraged. 

But veiling of Statues and Crucifixes during Passiontide is specifically mentioned. 

Sometimes Sunday and Weekday Missals produced by the CTS and others can make mistakes (even with an Imprimatur!). They are of course only extracts from the Roman Missal used on the altar. 

And it is of course the Roman Missal that is the definitive text - which definitely mentions the veiling of crosses and images to begin from the Fifth Sunday of Lent.  

Of course each diocese is supposed to produce an Ordo to guide priests in the celebration of Mass and the Divine Office. 

In the Ordo for Westminster (and for Brentwood - my own diocese) it reminds us immediately before the Fifth Sunday of Lent: 

"The practice of covering crosses and images in the church may be observed. Crosses remain covered until the end of the celebration of the Lord's Passion on Good Friday; images until the beginning of the Easter Vigil." 

2. Does Passiontide begin on the 5th Sunday of Lent or on Palm Sunday? 

In my late father's Daily Missal (given to him ironically by my Grandmother for Christmas 1960 - just before the changes!) it states that the Preface to be used from Passion Sunday until Maundy Thursday (except on feasts having a proper Preface) is the Preface of the Passion and the Holy Cross. 

The present Roman Missal has MANY more Prefaces than the Extraordinary Form Missal. 

As you rightly mention, particular Prefaces are to be used for the Sundays in Lent
1A/B/C - The Temptation of the Lord
2A/B/C - The Transfiguration of the Lord
3A - The Samaritan Woman
4A - The Man Born Blind
5A - Lazarus 

But on the 5th Sunday of Lent for Years B & C, we still use Preface I or II of Lent - rather than "Preface I of the Passion of the Lord". 

I find this rather confusing! 

But as I mentioned before - the Preface in the Missal to be used during the weekdays of the 5^th week of Lent is described as “Preface I of the Passion of the Lord”.  

The subheading to this Preface reads "The power of the Cross". A rubric then adds: "The following Preface is said during the Fifth Week of Lent and in Masses of the mysteries of the Cross and Passion of the Lord". 

And from today we are instructed  to use "Preface II of the Passion of the Lord" - "the victory of the Passion" on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of Holy Week. 

So for the last two weeks of Lent, we use "Preface I of the Passion of the Lord" and "Preface II of the Passion of the Lord" - but we start using these Prefaces of the Passion of the Lord only on the Monday following the 5th Sunday of Lent. 

"today seems now to be called Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord, which would be odd if last Sunday were still Passion Sunday." 

But in the old Daily Missals I have from 1960, they referred to:  

"FIRST SUNDAY IN PASSIONTIDE - Passion Sunday"and "SECOND SUNDAY IN PASSIONTIDE - Palm Sunday". 

So Palm Sunday was referred to in 1960 as being the Second Sunday in Passiontide.
Therefore I think that combining the rubrics in the current Roman Missal about the veiling of crosses and images for the last two weeks of Lent and the mandatory use of "Preface I & II of the Passion of the Lord" for the last two weeks of Lent, it is legitimate to still refer to these last two weeks as the two weeks of Passiontide. 

But I don't understand why we don't use “Preface I of the Passion of the Lord”" on the 5th Sunday of Lent in Years B and C.

So I am heartened that the veiling of statues is explicitly permitted, rather than a pious hangover that some diligent liturgist could legitimately stamp on.

But I remain confused about Passiontide itself.

All in all, I still think Bugnini's mission to simplify, simplify.... was applied here too.

But I am grateful to Fr Coveney for taking the time to contribute his knowledge and thoughts to the discussion.

Passiontide

There was some discussion in the combox under a recent post about whether Passiontide had been suppressed in the New Calendar.

Since then, I have got my copy of Bugnini, and here is what he has to say:

The Septuagesima season is suppressed, and the three Sundays making it up become Sundays of Ordinary Time.
Also suppressed, as a title, is "Passiontide." The whole of it now becomes, even externally, part of Lent.

So it seems I was right, and that is why in my new Missal today is simply listed as the Fifth Sunday in Lent. Moreover, the veiling of statues and crucifixes is merely a pious tradition and should not be done (if that is what 'even externally' means, which I think it must).

This seems to my to typify much of the impoverishment of Bugnini's changes. Instead of the emotional crescendo of Septuagesima - Lent - Passiontide - the Triduum, we know have a binary system: Ordinary time to Lent.  Likewise with the suppression of the Octave of Pentecost, we have Pentecost, then Ordinary time.

It is all very logical and all very much poorer.

I am pleased that I managed to get to an Extraordinary Form Mass, where we celebrated Passion Sunday with dignity and solemnity.

For Passiontide, then, here is a recording of the four different settings of the Passion Chorale in Bach's St Matthew Passion. The harmonies get richer and more plangent each time.  Magnificent stuff!

(Though I cannot resist quoting Beecham on Bach: Too much counterpoint - and what's worse, Protestant counterpoint! But that does not apply here.)

Resonance

I have been looking at the Propers for Passion Sunday in the Extraordinary Form: the fifth Sunday of Lent and the start of what we used to call Passiontide (remember that?)

Here is the Introit:


Judica me, Deus, et discerne causam meam de gente non sancta: ab homine iniquo et doloso eripe me : quia tu es Deus meus, et fortitudo mea. Emitte lucem tuam, et verita- tem tuam : ipsa me deduxerunt, et adduxerunt in montem sanctum tuum, et in tabernacula tua.

If you are at all familiar with the Traditional Mass, you will instantly recognise these verses from Psalm 42, because they are recited by the priest and server at the start of every Mass (except from Passion Sunday to Maundy Thursday).

So when one comes across them on Passion Sunday, one instantly notices that. Which means that subsequently (at least for the first few Sundays after Easter, until one forgets) at the start of each Mass we are reminded of the start of Passiontide.

That is an example of what I call resonance, and relates to what I blogged about here, regarding a symphonic analogy for liturgy. There is a richness and a depth to traditional liturgy, in the same way there is a richness and a depth to family customs and rituals around birthdays and Christmas.  The way the Mass had developed, organically, over the years led to many such felicities.

The writing of a new Mass by committee, and particularly a committee that took such a reductionist and mono linear approach, stripped all these away. They seem to have been actively hostile to popular piety, and to anything that did not conform to a rigid, and simplistic, analysis of the structure of the ideal Mass. The analogy with architecture is also relevant (cf my extended metaphor here).

Part of the problem is the three year cycle of the Lectionary. With a yearly cycle, one can get used to the Mass for Passion Sunday.  But if they change every year, and recur only every three, we don't develop that instinctive familiarity.

Another impoverishment: and we are the poorer for it.



UPDATE

In the interests of accuracy, I should note that the Judica me is used as the Introit for the 5th Sunday of Lent (no longer Passion Sunday, it would seem) in all three years. However, the resonance of which I speak is lost entirely, as it is no longer said at the foot of the altar at the start of Lent, and (at least according to my missal) Passiontide (along with the season of Septuagesima, qv) has been abolished.

The larger point about the three-year cycle still stands.

The Problem of the Offertory

I have had to return Bugnini to the Library, (hence the pause in my commentary).  I plan to buy a copy - I had rather hoped Mrs T or one of the little Ts would produce one for Christmas, but it was not to be.

In  the meantime, I have been reflecting.

Above all, I have been reflecting on the underlying view of liturgy, as manifested in the changes.

Bugnini refers to the 'problem of the Offertory' as a given. As far as I recall (and, as I say, I no longer have a copy to hand) he does not actually define that problem anywhere.  But I think from things I have read and heard elsewhere that the perceived problem of the Offertory was that it pre-empts the Canon and, in particular, the consecration.

Michael Davies, of course, had another view, pointing out that Luther's objection was that: From this point (the offertory) almost everything stinks of oblation!

Whichever view one takes, it is quite clear that the Offertory was subject to the greatest changes of any part of the Mass (you can see the old and the new texts together, here, and Bugnini's explanation of the process (though not really the reasons) on Ttony's blog, here)

Incidentally, one of the things some objected to was the Lavabo, as it was not really necessary unless the celebrant had had to dirty his hands, by preparing incense etc.

All of this, I think, is illustrative of a larger point. That is, that people were conceiving of Liturgy in a very linear, logical, one-dimensional way - a bit like a mathematical formula. If x, then y, and so on, with no room or reason for repetition or recapitulation.

But I think a better analogy is a great symphony. The Mass is (inter alia) to teach us, certainly. But that does not have to be in a dull logical fashion. It could teach us in the way that beauty teaches us.  In a symphony, a theme is introduced, repeated, varied, left for a period while another theme is introduced, and then recapitulated, and so on. The cumulative effect of that is very powerful.  And so it was in the Mass.

The penitential theme is introduced at the start of Mass, but is regularly recapitulated, in the Canon and in the repetition of the Confiteor before Communion.  The encounter with the Word of God progresses from the word of the Old Testament, to the Word revealed in the Gospel, to the Word made present sacrificially on the altar, to the Word received by each communicant, and so on.  Thus, the Offertory introduces the sacrificial theme, which is brought to a climax in the Canon.

This allows for another aspect which musicians will grasp: counterpoint.  One of the fascinating things about our Faith is the balancing of things that seem to pull in opposite directions: the Omnipotent as a human baby is one; the virgin birth is another; the altar as place of sacrifice and table of the Banquet of the Lamb… petition and thanksgiving... justice and mercy… joyful and sorrowful mysteries… the Easter People in this Vale of Tears…

The traditional rites allowed for this play of tensions: first one theme comes to the fore, then another, then the first is reprised, and finally there is a climax and a cadence.

The traditional funeral Mass is a prime example: ranging from the awe of the Dies Irae to the beauty of the In Paradisum and the angel welcoming the soul into paradise.

Yet, it seems to me, the modern liturgists have little sense of this.  All is logical progression: we have an Act of Penance, then the Liturgy of the Word, then the Preparation of the Gifts, then the Eucharistic prayer, then the Peace, then the Communion, then the Dismissal.  All very orderly, none contaminating the other but rather all hermetically contained - and all (it seems to me) rather one-dimensional. 

It is, perhaps, no coincidence that so many of those who signed the famous Agatha Christie indult request were prominent figures from the world of the arts and literature.