Today I saw something grandiose: Monreale. I am full of gratitude for its existence. The day was rainy. When we arrived there -- it was Holy Thursday ....This was in 1929, mind you, well before Vatican II and the now current notions of liturgical "participation." For the complete text of Guardini's still very short reflection, "Holy Week at Monreale," and for further observations by Sandro Magister on Guardini's influence on the Holy Father's writings on the liturgy, go to www.chiesa, April 12, 2006.
So, a brief historical moment. It did not last long, but was supplanted by something else entirely...
When they brought the holy oils to the sanctuary, and the procession, accompanied by the insistent melody of an ancient hymn, wound through that throng of figures, the basilica sprang back to life....
The crowd sat and watched. The women were wearing veils. The colors of their garments and shawls were waiting for the sun to make them shine again. The men's faces were distinguished and handsome. Almost no one was reading. All were living in the gaze, all engaged in contemplation.
Then it it became clear to me what the foundation of real liturgical piety is: the capacity to find the "sacred" within the image and its dynamism.
Monreale, Holy Saturday....
The people's conduct was simultaneously detached and devout ....
The most beautiful thing was the people. The women with their veils, the men with their cloaks around their shoulders. Everywhere could be seen distinguished faces and a serene bearing. Almost no one was reading, almost no one stooped over in private prayer. Everyone was watching.
The sacred ceremony lasted for more than four hours, but the participation was always lively. There are different means of prayerful participation. One is realized by listening, speaking, gesturing. But the other takes place through watching. The first way is a good one, and we northern Europeans know no other. But we have lost something that was still there at Monreale: the capacity for living-in-the-gaze, for resting in the act of seeing, for welcoming the sacred in the form and event, by contemplating them.
I was about to leave, when suddenly I found all of those eyes turned toward me. Almost frightened, I looked away, as if I were embarrassed at peering into those eyes that had been gazing upon the altar.
The Cathedral of Monreale, which has been called "The most beautiful temple in the world," stands at the edge of the historical center of Monreale, Sicily. The "Conca d'Oro" (or "Golden Temple"), is a fairy-tale construction, the Christian apotheosis of a Norman king's dream. One morning in 1174, William II, known as "the Good," Roger II's grandson and third Norman King of Sicily, awoke at daybreak and reported to his ministers that he had dreamt that the Virgin Mary had asked him to build her a church with the treasure stolen from the State by his father, William I, known as "the Bad," and hidden in a secret place that she would show him. Read more here.
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