Reform and the iconoclastic cult of aging youth movements

The award-winning German author and film-maker, Martin Mosebach, offers a most interesting description of what happened to Saint Raphael's, a church in the Heidelberg suburb of Neuenheim from the original erection of its foundation stone in 1903 through the renovations of the post-Vatican II era, up to the present. The following are some excerpts from his volume, published with some reservations but a nevertheless supportive Foreword by Fr. Joseph Fessio, The Heresy of Formlessness: The Roman Liturgy and Its Enemy (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2006). The book is not available on Amazon. It is available through Ignatius Press, but is so thoroughly embedded in the Ignatius website that it can be found only through persistent search (the above title is linked). The following excerpts are from ch. 4: "'Tear the Images out of Their Hearts': Liturgy and the Campaign against Images."

"At first glance, what happened to Saint Raphael's church in the Heidelberg suburb of Neuenheim may seem banal enough." So writes Martin Mosebach, describing the renovation of a suburban German church, which like so many other churches underwent major overhauling after the Second Vatican Council. Of course, he notes, in one sense, nothing can be banal about renovating a church in one sense: "A church that is to house a consecrated Host, the Blessed Sacrament, cannot be banal."

"When the foundation stone for Saint Raphael's church was laid in 1903, the priest and community shared the conviction that they were building a church that should be immediately recognizable as such to everyone who saw it." Today, Mosenbach says, we can only guess what impression the church would have made at the time. The few remaining photographs give no idea of the colors of the execution. He relates the developments that were concurrently taking place in the history of art, Kandinsky's painting of his first abstract watercolor, the revolution in modern art, etc.

But then came the Second Vatican Council and the changes in its wake that reflected the times. In 1968, the parish of Saint Raphael was told that its altars, designed by Alfons Marmon after Renaissance Florentine models, were declared "controversial." Mosebach asks his readers to note the date: "1968 was an 'axis' year in Karl Jaspers' sense: there were student riots in Germany, France, and the United States; it was the beginning of the Chinese 'cultural revolution', with its millions of victims, its full-scale attack on images, and its destruction of temples and art treasures -- and it was the year of the liturgical reform. These events are connected, even if they do not seem to be. Future historiography will have no choice but to see a profound link here."

What interests me most here, however, is what follows -- particularly what Mosebach says about how "carefully prepared" the parish of Saint Raphael was for the changes by its priest. He writes:

"In Neuenheim's Saint Raphael church, however, the upheavals did not take place in a revolutionary manner. The parish priest was also parish priest of Heidelberg city. He was reputed to have 'masterfully carried out the various changes in the intellectual and spiritual life in the Church and in the external reorderings of church buildings in the wake of the Council'. At the celebrations for the fiftieth anniversary of his priestly ordination, he was praised for having 'carefully prepared the community for the change'; like an experience surgeon, he did this preparatory work before making the quick and radical incision."

The common assumption was that the Marmon altar had been constructed of plaster. This clearly proved not to be the case when the sculptures were chopped and sawn to pieces, revealing the lime timber beneath the painted surface, notes Mosenbach. "Photographs show the venerable old priest in his utterly correct clerical garb, not looking at all like an agent of vandalism, smiling serenely as he observed the results of his destruction."

This calls to mind the incongruity between the Instruction Eucharisticum Mysterium published by the Sacred Congregation of Rites on May 25, 1967, which specifically stated that “in adapting churches, care will be taken not to destroy treasures of sacred art” (par. 24), and a similar act of destruction recalled by Michael Davies in London:

"I well recollect reading in the newsletter of a parish in southeast London an account of a Protestant stonemason who had been heartbroken at having to smash an exquisitely beautiful marble altar in a convent and to replace it with what he described as 'two great hunks of stone.' As a true craftsman, he found the task utterly repugnant, particularly as he was sure that there is not a stonemason in britain who could produce such superb work today. The worthy gentleman would have been even more surprised had he been told that this act of vandalism was intended to promote the renewal of Ctholic worship. What sort of renewal can be implemened only by destroying the holy and the beautiful?" (Michael Davies, The Catholic Sanctuary and the Second Vatican Council [Rockford, IL: TAN, 1997], p. 24)

“How was this possible?” Mosebach asks.

The author then launches into an autobiographical account of his childhood memories, particularly memories from the post-Second World War years of the older generation that had been marked by its experience of the youth movements before the First World War. "For me, the 'modern' style has always borne an old face," he observes, noting the youthful style of haircuts, ponytails, and clothing worn by aging white-haired people. These were the products, he suggests, of a mindset and outlook spawned amidst the deadly crucible of Communism and National Socialism, both of which had sponsored youth movements. Mosebach next comments on the phenomenon of "the youth movement" generically:

"The youth movement fed the roots, not only of the cult of nudity, feminism, vegetarianism, neo-paganism, pseudo-Indian meditation, gay liberation, ubiquitous guitar-strumming, and the Bauhaus: it was also behind the liturgical reform. Basically all of these movements can be traced back to the burning idealism of good people who were led astray and betrayed . . . However, the delight in destruction that was once conjured by young people, their cheeks aglow in the light of the campfire as they talked and sang of their vision -- the collapse of the old system and the advent of a wondrous new age -- outlived its infantile phase and achieved an astonishingly advanced age."

Who can help thinking of the graying membership of dissident Catholic groups such as Call to Action, Catholics for Free Choice, WomenChurch, Women’s Ordination Conference, Pax Christi, We Are Church, or Voice of the Faithful? The 20th century cult of youth, says Mosebach, culminates in a "cruel curse" -- despite the irreversible aging process, the aging human being is not allowed to mature, but is condemned to play out the long-dead games of his youth until his life's end. This is most apparent in the world of art, he says where the "avantgardisms" of 1905 are still being repeated, like an ossified mantra, a hundred years later. Did some suppose, perhaps, that with her famous aggiornamento, the Church believed that, in order to survive, she had to "fling open her shutters" to such senile avangardisms?

But back to the story of Saint Raphael's in Germany. Mosebach describes the description of the renovated church in detail:

"The apse alone was completely cleared out. In the celebratory pamphlet for the parish priest's jubilee we read that 'the remodeling is harmonious, even elegant'. 'The table-altar is designed for the New Covenant community meal. . . . No communion rails impede the access of the faithful. The priest presides, as is appropriate, over the eucharistic community; . . . he is the president of the community, he leads the assembly' -- indeed he does, from the very place where, formerly, the tabernacle stood. The latter, in the form of a bifurcated bronze tooth, has been relegated to a little cupboard in a side wall. It is simply a case of a slight shift in the scale of values', the parish priest told the congregation. 'Now in the foreground stands the action of the meal and the active participation of the mature Christian'."

Mosebach comments:

"Yes, indeed, the scale of values has shifted somewhat. What did the disciples' 'active participation' consist of in the Upper Room, when they let Christ wash their feet? What was the 'active participation' of Mary and John as they stood beneath the Cross? It consisted of beholding, letting it happen, watching and praying. However, I will not waste time on a critique of the jargon of the 'reform', which has already been frequently and thoroughly exposed for what it is. Like Moses, the town parish priest was not permitted to enter the promised Land. He led his parish out into the white steppe. It was for the next generation to fill the empty space."

Update 2/20/07

• Martin Mosebach, The Heresy of Formlessness: The Roman Liturgy and Its Enemy (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2006) [Amazon link, courtesy of Arieh]
• Martin Mosebach, The Heresy of Formlessness: The Roman Liturgy and Its Enemy (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2006) [Ignatius Press link, courtesy of Carl Olson]
• "Does Christianity Need a Liturgy?" [an excerpt from Mosebach's excellent book at IgnatiusInsight.com for those who want to sample more before buying it, courtesy of Carl Olson]