In class today, we talked about the pervasive opposition to "organized religion," and those who claim that they are "spiritual but not religious." I mentioned how my slightly perverse sense of humour sometimes leads me to claim, contrariwise, that I am "religious but not spiritual," as I do on my homepage in that nefarious pit of hell called Facebook.
Later this afternoon, I found an email from one of my seminarians in that class with a link to the above video clip. ADVISORY: some may find it a trifle offensive. CONFESSION: I found it hilarious and, well . . . bracing. Like the smell of napalm in the morning.
[Hat tip to Mr. D.]
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choice rather than by obligation may arguably pray the vernacular side, but equally arguably, that would be crossing the boundaries of what the Church understands to constitute the official EF Divine Office.
Vespers was offered at the modest, modern Residence Chapel at Mundelein Seminary. A Tridentine Low Mass was offered on Friday morning at the left side altar in Mundelein’s main Immaculate Conception Chapel (above photo by Kyle Lee).
And then there was the new rite of the Mass. At its inception it was better described, as one forgotten wit put it, as "the participation of the laity in the confusion of the clergy." Compared to the old Latin liturgy, I found the new version about as moving as a freight train. Silence was now a liturgical vice, conscripted congregational responses the new regiment of worship. In a pale imitation of the early Christians' kiss of peace, there was now a scripted pause. I remember vividly the funeral of the great Catholic apologist Frank Sheed at St. Patrick's Cathedral: Swinging round to shake hands with whomever was behind me, I found only a pair of hands holding a limp missalette at arm's length. One middle finger was extended. I shook the finger -- there was nothing else to grab -- and looked into the disdainful eyes of William F. Buckley Jr. "You S.O.B.," I wanted to say, "I don't like this Rotary Club routine any more than you do."
