What French priests neglected to preach as the church in France collapsed

"A Crisis of the Four Last Things" (New Oxford Notes, July-August 2018)

NOR readers will be familiar with the stark reality that much of Europe is no longer Christian. That goes, too, for the eldest daughter of the Church, France, which boasts hundreds of renowned Gothic churches visited by the thousands each week, most not for purposes of religion. Think Notre Dame in Paris, or the cathedrals in Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, Strasbourg, and Beauvais. The list goes on and on. If only these churches were still honest representatives of a Catholic culture in France. If only that culture were as strong as the flying buttresses of its sacred houses. Alas, each of these cathedrals at this point in its history is little more than a monument to times past, a sepulcher for a once-flourishing religion and way of life. It is instructive to note that only 1.7 percent of Catholics regularly attend Mass in France — and according to Guillaume Cuchet, a professor at the University of Paris-Est Créteil who specializes in contemporary Church history, “regularly” isn’t even defined as meeting the Sunday obligation; it merely means “at least once a month.” Thousands of old French churches are no longer active places of worship; priests often have the care of 20 to 30 parishes and only celebrate regional Masses each week — and even those are attended by few. When Catholics die in France, chances are slim that a priest will be around to bury them.

There is certainly no shortage of hypotheses for the causes of the demise of the Church — the disappearance of Christians and the decline of the traditional Catholic way of life — in France. Popular fingers point to the old French Revolution, the newer sexual revolution, and the increasing influence of scientism, moral relativism, and other personal philosophies of life that have eclipsed the idea that piety, tradition, and doctrine provide a natural compass for faith and morals.

Recently, French Orthodox writer Jean-Claude Larchet reviewed Cuchet’s new book, How Our World Stopped Being Christian: Anatomy of a Collapse (OrthoChristian.com, May 29), a penetrating look at the spectacular decline of Catholicism in France. Some — though likely not most NOR readers — might be surprised at what Cuchet identifies as the root cause of this decline. Catholicism itself, says he, bears the heaviest responsibility in the de-Christianization of France. And yep, he specifically identifies the Second Vatican Council as the primary catalyst of it all. The Council, writes Larchet in his review, “proposed to face the challenges of the modern world,” and yet it “did nothing but adapt itself to the latter; thinking to bring the world to its side, it ended up giving in to the world, and despite wanting to be heard in the secular sphere, Catholicism has instead become secularized.” In other words, the Church in France (and elsewhere, of course) became impotent by its own hand.

Though this assertion is hardly groundbreaking, Cuchet gets into specifics that are worthy of serious consideration. This rupture in the Church, which he traces back to 1965, the year the Council closed, can be identified with the liturgical reforms, yes, but more precisely with the changing attitudes toward sin occasioned by both the Council and its liturgical reforms. In the area of piety, the abandonment of Latin and the change toward the reception of Communion in the hand played an important role, but Cuchet focuses more on the promulgation of a religious relativism that, if not written straight up in the documents of Vatican II, was the result of willful misinterpretation or misapplication of these summary documents. The Council’s documents seem to have been designed to allow for liberal interpretations, the kind that led to the secularization of Catholicism throughout France — a secularization that happened almost overnight. “A whole series of ‘truths’ suddenly fell into oblivion,” writes Larchet, “as if the clergy themselves had ceased to believe in them or did not know what to say about them after having spoken of them for so long as something essential.” More importantly, writes Cuchet in his book, “the Council paved the way for what might be called ‘a collective exit from the obligatory practice on pain of mortal sin.’”

Cuchet traces almost all the official and unofficial conciliar reforms to two fundamental crises: the crisis of the Sacrament of Penance and the crisis of not preaching on the Last Things. According to Cuchet, the massive abandonment in just a few years of the practice of confession had a profound impact on Catholic attitudes toward sin, and toward life in general. In 1952 51 percent of French Catholics went to confession at least the obligatory once per year. By 1983 that was down to just 14 percent. The concept of a personal conscience, misunderstood as it universally was, led to most Catholics rationalizing away the sins they had committed. Not only that, says Cuchet, the French clergy allowed them to do so. They abandoned the practice of confession (that is, hearing confessions frequently) just as had the so-called faithful.

Cuchet, in fact, lays most of the blame at the feet of the French clergy. They failed, he says, in their duty to preach about sin, to preach properly on the work of a well-formed conscience, and to preach about the importance of confession and penance. Thus, the usefulness of confession became less obvious, as did the connection between confession and Holy Communion. In a word, Communion was trivialized and confession nearly non-existent.

Cuchet also claims that the French clergy stopped preaching about the Four Last Things — death, judgment, Heaven, and Hell — “as if they had stopped believing in it themselves.” French priests, he says, in effect “paved the way to Heaven.” They gave the distinct impression that the path was no longer narrow and steep, but was now a wide, well-travelled thoroughfare. In a sense, wonders Cuchet, doesn’t that essentially mean the end of salvation? If one does not believe in sin, why the need for salvation? If there’s no need for salvation, why bother with Jesus Christ? If we needn’t bother with Jesus the Savior, why go to Mass? Why belong to the Church? Why identify as Christian? The rhetorical answer to those questions leads back to the astounding statistic that only 1.7 percent of French Catholics attend Mass even once a month.

Though Cuchet doesn’t provide a way out of the decline explicitly (and that is not his purpose as a historian), one can easily see the implicit solution: a strong Church made up of vibrant, faithful clergy who are not afraid to preach on sin or the effects of sin, and who promote the myriad spiritual, physical, and communal advantages of being a practicing member of the Church.

The foregoing article, "A Crisis of the Four Last Things" was originally published in the July-August 2018 issue of the New Oxford Review and is reproduced here by kind permission of New Oxford Review, 1069 Kains Ave., Berkeley, CA 94706.

GrottoCast!!!

I realize what a privilege it is to be able to assist at Mass at a perish where homilists are as good as confessors, where old Catholic customs are observed with affection, and one can imagine what the Church must have been like a generation or two ago.

For anyone interested in looking through a window, as it were, into this world, and in listening in to such homilies, there is no better place than GrottoCast , a new website that shares Fr. Eduard Perrone's (and his guest celebrants') homilites in audio format. Fr. Perrone, of course, is a priest of the Archdiocese of Detroit serving the Assumption Grotto parish.

Here, for example, are the 2015 Christmas Homilies: Fr. Logan & Fr. Perrone (GrottoCast, December 25, 2015), which are both worth a listen, along with pictures. I'm told that a series of Carmelite retreat talks will be featured this year. As the church bulletin notes, the site will also be used to share video clips from some devotional and liturgical events. Furthermore, using the archive drop down in the sidebar, you can find a Corpus Christi procession video from June of 2015; and there is a provision (also in the sidebar) for subscribing to email notifications that will send you a link as soon as items are posted.

God bless you everyone!

Homily of Fr. Eduard Perrone (Sunday after Ascension, EF)

"Homily of Fr. Eduard Perrone; Sunday after Ascension (EF)" (Grotto Cast, May 17, 2015). Nice, clear audio!!

Great post by Fr. Hunwicke

Fr. Hunwicke,"Bishop Kirk and the coming Synod" (Hunwicke's Mutual Enrichment, 7 March 2015):

Final part of a sermon I recently preached at Solemn [Ordinariate] Evensong and Benediction in the Blackfriars' Church in Oxford.

 ... The Christian Faith is a coherent and integrated whole. Every bit fits in with every other bit. Drop just one single bit out, and you throw the whole complex unity into disarray. Perhaps you will allow me, in conclusion, to take a topical example of this; topical, because we are at this precise moment immersed in the fascinating if febrile period between last year's Synod and this year's Synod. And so Marriage is very much in the mind of each of us. And, of course, fallen human nature being what it is, when we say we're thinking about Marriage, it seems to turn out to mean that we're thinking about Divorce. That's the way that Screwtape and his associates have adjusted our philology. And the Lord said that Divorce is impossible; in fact, he said it so clearly that the way He actually put it was that if you get divorced and then "marry again", you'll really only be living in adultery. I've often wondered if there is any way, in any human language, in which the point could be made more plainly and more ... I dare to say ... 'offensively'.

Now ... side by side with the Lord's teaching ... let us set some remarkable words from S Paul's Letter to the Ephesians. He likens the nuptial covenant between husband and wife to that equally nuptial covenant, the 'mystical union that is betwixt Christ and His Church'.

You see, I'm sure, the bearing of all this. If a valid and consummated Christian marriage is as indissoluble as the union between Christ and His Church, it follows that the union between Christ and His Church is as indissoluble as that between husband and wife. Or, to put it the other way round, the union between Christ and His Church is as soluble and it is as breakable as marriage. Advocacy of remarriage after divorce is constructively tantamount to saying that the Lord may desert His Church and could renounce His nuptial covenant with her.

I think I had better come clean. The point I'm making is, in fact, disgracefully plagiarised. I have lifted this exposition from a magisterial book called Marriage and Divorce by a very great pontiff, Kenneth Escott Kirk, Lord Bishop of Oxford between 1937 and 1954 and sometime Regius Professor of Moral and Pastoral Theology in this University, which he wrote in the context of the English Divorce Act of 1937. Bishop Kirk makes with concise precision the point I have laboured in this homily; a point which Cardinal Hume once made by saying that our holy Faith is not a la carte. We accept it table d'hote, because it is a perfectly integrated and interlinked whole. Tear out one element, and the whole cardigan unravels. I'm sure Bishop Kirk would have been an Ordinariate Man ... we would have had to learn to refer to him as Monsignor Kirk ... so I'll end with his own words.

"To plead for divorce with the right to second marriage is to ignore the whole of this constructive theology which relates the union of the sexes to that of Christ and His Church, and thereby to deny the unity of purpose which runs through the whole scheme of God's activity both in the natural and in the supernatural sphere. ...

"The Christian tradition of the indissolubility of marriage does no more than give effect to S Paul's great teaching, in which our Lord's precepts about marriage are set in the framework of the unity of God's purpose. To deny that tradition, therefore, is to cast doubt upon the very nature of God, and the modes of activity in which He has manifested Himself to man."

 [Hat tip to L.S.]

The magi's gifts as sacrifice ... and the Sacrifice of the Mass

Fr. Eduard Perrone, "A Pastor's Descant" [temporary link] (Assumption Grotto News, January 11, 2014):

At one time in the liturgical life of the Church, Epiphany, like Christmas, was celebrated for a whole week (actually for an ‘octave,’ or eight days). This longer celebration was suppressed many years ago leaving us with Epiphany day only. In the Tridentine breviary (the priests’ daily prayer book) however there is still in the days following Epiphany a remnant of prayers and antiphons which refer to the magi, their three gifts, the star, and King Herod. I find it profitable to have this lingering remnant of the Epiphany octave since there are many things in that event to think about, things that would otherwise not get adequate time for reflection.

One of these concerns the more subtle meanings of the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. I’m thinking particularly here of the reference to sacrifice which is hidden in them. We often call them the magi’s gifts, but we ought to think of them better as sacrificial offerings. Sacrifice is something having a double aspect. There’s a part that one can see and touch (the material aspect of the sacrifice) and there’s the interior part, the intention of the one making the sacrifice. This latter aspect, though not often given due prominence, is actually the more important of the two. An example. If one were to offer to God some of his money to help the poor (alms) in compensation for his sins, the more important value in that act would not be the dollar value of the offering but the intention for which the offering was made. From this one can see that a material thing offered can have supernatural value, that is, a value far exceeding its material worth. (How different, for example, would be an alms given out of religious reasons from a government handout!)

The centrality of sacrifice has been vanishing from Catholic consciousness. This is a result, I believe, of having lost sight of the Mass as sacrifice. At one time Catholics were commonly aware that at Mass they were participating in the renewal of the Calvary’s sacrifice. Mass was then indeed a serious, if joyful, act. This aspect of the Mass has now been ignored for a rather nebulous ‘celebrating.’ This tendency evacuates the Mass of its essential and necessary meaning and leaves the participants bored. [Emphasis here mine -- PP]

Here’s the significant point. The sacrifice of Christ on the cross (renewed at every Mass) already had joined to it other, lesser sacrifices of the Church to come. We can perhaps see this in the role of Holy Mary at the cross. There She co-offered herself along with Her Son’s offering of Himself. IN a like manner, the magi’s gifts had a sacrificial meaning in view of Christ’s future crucifixion. These were given the Infant Christ in anticipation of Calvary, finding their significance in an event yet to come, just as the sacrifices of ourselves today with Christ at Mass are the continuation of His sacrifice.

If I were to search for words that are the opposite of sacrifice, they might be covetousness or selfishness, or self-esteem–things antithetical to true religion but which are much lauded by the world. As a result we’re become ego-centric rather than self-giving Christians. Holy Mary is, of course, the unparalleled model here of what we must do–She who kept nothing for Herself, desired nothing for Herself but who offered all to God.

Original sin did us a great deal of harm in many ways, but particularly in giving us a natural bent to self love. The practice of religion is supposed to help curb that tendency and make us selfless and generous towards God and neighbor. We’re forgetting this because of the sins which feed our egos. The magi teach us to be joyful givers not self-centered keepers.

When you come to Mass you should join yourself internally to Christ who is offered at Mass. Then your presence and participation in the liturgy will be meaningful indeed. You will have put in your portion as Mary once gave (and still gives) Hers, and as the magi once put theirs before the Lord through their gifts. Epiphany thus reminds me to be a sacrificing person at Mass and in many other ways outside Mass....

Fr. Perrone

Anthony Trollope on preaching

Excerpted from Fro Eduard Perrone, "A Pastor's Descant" [these change weekly] (Assumption Grotto News, August 24, 2014):

"There is perhaps no greater hardship at present inflicted on manking in civilized and free countries, than the necessity of listening to sermons. No one but a preaching clergyman has, in these realms, the power of compelling an audience to sit silent, and be tormented. No one but a preaching clergyman can revel in platitudes, truisms, and untruisms, and yet receive, as his undisputed privilege, the same respectful demeanor as though words of impassioned eloquence, or persuasive logic, fell from his lips. Let a professor of law or physic find his place in a lecture-room and there pour forth jejune words and useless empty phrases and he will puor them forth to empty benches. Let a barrister (an attorney) attempt to talk without talking well, and he will talk but seldom ... A member of parliament can be coughed down or counted out. Town-councillors can be tabooed. But no one can rid himself of the preaching clergyman. He is the bore of the age ... the nightmare that disturbs our Sunday's rest ...

"We are not forced into church! No: but we desire more than that. We desire not to be forced to stay away. We desire, nay, we are resolute, to enjoy the comfort of public worship; but we desire also that we may do so without an amount of tedium which ordinary human nature cannot endure with patience; that we may be able to leave the house of God, without that anxious longing to escape, which is the common consequence of common sermons.

[Now as if addressing the preacher] "You must excuse me ... if I yawn over your imperfect sentences, your repeated phrases, your false pathos, your drawlings and denouncings, your humming and hawing, your oh-ing and ah-ing...

"And here I must make a protest against the pretense, so often put forward byt he working clergy, that they are overburdened by the multitude of sermons to be preached ... A preacher is encouraged by the vanity of making his voice heard by the privilege of a compelled audience. His sermon is the pleasant morsel of his life, his delicious moment of self-exaltation."

[There's a little more to it, but this should be enough for a smile to break out upon your faces. You need not fear guilt for detraction against your preaching priests to have enjoyed this delightful writing ... We priests at the Grotto do try hard, given our modest capabilities, to say what we feel we must for your edification and God's glory. 'Nough said.]

Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers, ch. 6: "War"

"On this Sunday let us pray for the Shepherds of the Church"

Pope Francis, on this fourth Sunday of the Easter season, preached on the image of the Good shepherd from the Gospel of John ("On the Good Shepherd," ZENIT, May 11, 2014). Notable excerpts:

May the Lord help us shepherds always to be faithful to the Master and wise and enlightened guides of the people of God entrusted to us. I also ask you, please, help us to be good pastors. Once I read something beautiful about how the people of God help bishops and priests be good shepherds. It is a text of St. Caesarius of Arles, a father of the first centuries of the Church. He explains how the people of God must help the shepherd and gave the following example. When the calf is hungry, he does to the cow, to the mother, to get milk. The cow, however, does not immediately give it to him: it seems that she is keeping it for herself. And what does the calf do? He knocks against the cow’s udder with his head so that the milk comes out. It is a beautiful image! “So you too,” the saint says, “must be like this with the shepherds. Always knock at their door, at their heart, so that they give you the milk of doctrine, the milk of grace and the milk of leadership.” And I ask you, please, to importune the shepherds, to disturb them, all of us shepherds, so that we can give you the milk of grace, of doctrine and of leadership. Importune [us]! Think of that beautiful image of that calf, how he importunes the mother so that she gives him something to eat.

In imitation of Jesus, every Shepherd “will sometimes go before his people, pointing the way and keeping their hope vibrant. At other times, he will simply be in their midst with his unassuming and merciful presence. At yet other times, he will have to walk after them, helping those who lag behind” (“Evangelii gaudium,” 31). May all shepherds be like this! But you must importune the shepherds, so that they give you the guide of doctrine and grace. (Emphasis Rorate's)

[Hat tip to Rorate Caeli]

The return of the King: the elements will be dissolved with fire, the earth will be burned up

This time of year, in anticipation of Advent, our lectionary readings focus on different ways in which the Lord comes to us, especially in the Second Coming. While many celebrated the Solemnity of Christ the King today, in keeping with the post-Conciliar calendar (in the 1962 calendar, this is celebrated -- with a rather different meaning -- at the end of October), those at Masses following the 1962 calendar celebrated the last Sunday after Pentecost.

In both Masses, the readings have a similar focus. The Solemnity of Christ the King, as Fr. Z says, "brings to our attention the fact that the Lord is coming precisely as King and Judge not merely as friend or brother or favorite role-model." He continues:

Consider today’s feast in light of what we read in 2 Peter 3: 10-12:

“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and the works that are upon it will be burned up. Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of persons ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be kindled and dissolved, and the elements will melt with fire!”

Not exactly hugs and fluffy lambs for everyone.

Christ Jesus will judge us all, dear friends, and submit all things to the Father (cf. 1 Cor 15:28). Having excluded some from His presence, our King, Christ Jesus, will reign in majestic glory with the many who accepted His gifts and thereby merited eternal bliss.

The Gospel reading for the last Sunday after Pentecost in the 1962 calendar is Matthew 24:15-35, which hammers home a similar point:

At that time, Jesus said to His disciples: When you shall see the abomination of desolation, which was spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place; (he that readeth, let him understand:) then they that are in Judea, let them flee to the mountains; and he that is on the house-top, let him not come down to take anything out of his house; and he that is in the field, let him not go back to take his coat. And woe to them that are with child and that give suck, in those days. But pray that your flight be not in the winter, or on the Sabbath: for there shall be then great tribulation, such as hath not been found from the beginning of the world until now, neither shall be: and unless those days had been shortened, no flesh should be saved; but for the sake of the elect, those days shall be shortened. Then if any man shall say to you: Lo, here is Christ, or there; do not believe him; for there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch as to deceive (if possible) even the elect. Behold I have told it to you beforehand. If therefore they shall say to you: Behold His is in the desert, go ye not out; Behold He is in the closets, believe it not. For as lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even in the west, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. Wheresoever the body shall be, there shall the eagles also be gathered together. And immediately after the tribulation of those days, the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of heaven shall be moved; and then shall appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven, and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn; and they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven with much power and majesty. And He shall send His angels with a trumpet and a loud voice, and they shall gather together His elect from the four winds, from the farthest parts of the heavens to the utmost bounds of them. And from the fig tree learn a parable: when the branch thereof is now tender, and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is nigh. So you also, when you shall see all these things, know ye that it is nigh at the doors. Amen I say to you that this generation shall not pass till all these things be done. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass away.

For a YouTube homily by Fr. Perrone on the readings of the day (which also include Colossians 1: 9-14), have a look at Diane Korzeniewski's post, "Video Homily: Fr. Perrone on the Last Four Things, Dies Irae (Last Sunday after Pentecost, 1962 Missal)" (Te Deum Laudamus, November 24, 2013):



[Hat tip to D.M.K.]

Good advice on preaching

Regis Martin, "Advice for Preachers on Sin and Satan" (Crisis, November 18, 2013):

I once knew a pastor whose homilies were so awful, so bone crushingly boring, that I’d swear he composed them in the time it took us to sit down after he’d finished reading the Gospel. In other words, three seconds flat.... Read more >>

Richard L. Russell, "On Pulling Punches from the Pulpit" (Crisis, November 6, 2013):

I am getting a sinking feeling that in this age of ideological political partisanship, bishops and priests are succumbing to excessive self-censorship and are failing to educate their parishioners on the fundamental tenets of the faith, and how politics can be informed by that faith. As Pope Francis noted in a daily homily, “A good Catholic meddles in politics, offering the best of himself, so that those who govern can govern.” Far too many bishops, priests, and deacons seem to shy away from homilies about how Catholicism can inform public policy debates.... Read more >>

[Hat tip to Dr. Janet Smith]

Mozart's musical homily on Purgatory, dread of Hell, and hope of Heaven through Christ's grace

Despite widespread perception, one hears precious little about sin, hell, and damnation in the Catholic Church these days. Some, as a result, have begun calling it the "Church of Nice," or, closer to home, the "Church of Care Bears."

Thus it was with some eagerness that I went to church this morning at 9:30AM for the All Soul's Day Mass. (Not obligatory, I know, but being a pertinacious papist nerd, I consider it a Holy Day of Privilege, and loathe the language of "days of obligation.") I was eager to appropriate the resources of Catholic tradition for those my departed parents, ancestors, and loved ones this year, having been rather slack about these things in my past habits. If the Church offers "indulgences" for those in Purgatory, I want to know what an indulgence is and what Purgatory is. I know I will probably die sometime within the next couple of decades -- or three, if I'm lucky -- and I want to know what's coming, and what I can do about it.

You see, I know what Galadriel means when she says, that "the world is changed," that what once was "history became legend, legend became myth," that "much that once was is now lost, for none now live who remember it," and that for scores of years now, much that was once commonplace habit among Catholics has passed out of all knowledge. But somewhere along the byways of life, God has also gifted me with the faith that the Church has Christ's own authority behind it, and so I'm constrained to believe that even little words like "Indulgence" and "Purgatory" therefore need to be taken seriously, even if they bring nothing but yawns from our friends and neighbors.

Thankfully, our parish offers great resources for someone with my kind of desire to learn old Catholic habits of being. Moreover, I was not disappointed by today's Mass.

What really surprised me, however, was not the homily or the liturgy, which I've come to expect will always be very good, but the musical setting for the Solemn High Mass (in the "Extraordinary Form") with choir and orchestra today, which was Mozart's Requiem.

Now, first of all, I'm well acquainted with Mozart's Requiem Mass. Whatever one may say about Mozart, it's beautiful. The words are not a novelty, but taken from the Traditional Latin Requiem Mass. I've been through those words numerous times before. I know them pretty well. Secondly, I've witnessed many orchestral Masses, although I generally prefer liturgies with little more than Gregorian Chant for the Propers and Ordinary parts of the Mass, and even Low Masses with no music at all. (But that's just me.) So it wasn't that any of this was anything particularly new to me, although the choral and orchestral performance were exceptional.

But sometimes things come together into a particularly sharp, new focus. What I noticed in a new way was the sharp clarity and severe beauty with which Mozart sets forth the hard and awful truths embodied in the Traditional Requiem Mass -- those very truths that the Church today seems so reluctant to proclaim from the pulpit or on Catholic Radio. I found myself thinking, "If the Church won't preach these things, there's always Mozart." (Mozart's Requiem for the New Evangelization?)

There is no mincing of words in the Requiem Mass:

[D]eliver the souls of the faithful departed from the pains of hell, and from the bottomless pit: deliver them from the lion's mouth, that hell swallow them not up, that they fall not into darkness: But let the standard bearer St. Michael lead them into the holy light; Which once you promised to Abraham and to his seed. (from Domine Jesu Christe)

"... pains of hell ... bottomless pit ... lion's mouth ... darkness ..." These are all things we NEED to hear and know and understand. Apart from them, the Church of Nice and it's Care Bear Gospel of self-esteem and kindness will always ring hollow. One may as well watch Barney the Dinosaur, or puke (sorry).

The power with which this is expressed in Mozart's Requiem is astonishing. For full effect, you have to know the Latin words and hear it performed and sung. It is not true, as my Protestant friends have sometimes said, that the work is all about "law" and "judgment," with nothing about "gospel" and "grace." Mozart does clearly hold forth the grace of Christ and the unmerited graciousness of salvation. But he puts the accent where it usually needs to be for us sinners who think we're already saints: penance.

Remember, O compassionate Jesus, that I am the reason for your way ... Seeking me, you sat wearied: you redeemed (me) suffering the cross: may so great a labor not be in vain.... I groan like a criminal: with guilt my face blushes: to a suppliant be sparing, O God. You who absolved Mary Magdalene and favorably heard the thief [on the cross], to me you also gave hope. My prayers are not worthy: but you, being good, act kindly, lest I burn in everlasting fire. Among the sheep grant (me) a place and from the goats separate me, placing (me) at the right side. (from Recordare)

Today's homily was no mere afterthought, but underscored the Message of Mozart's "homily" with its own powerful reflection on the Gospel -- the passage in the Fourth Gospel (John 5:25-29) about the Return of the King at the end of time at the Last Judgment. In a nutshell, the message was this: God's dispensation of mercy is coming to an end. His dispensation of justice is at hand. Therefore, prepare: be quick to accept God's terms of Mercy offered in the Gospel of Christ, for there is no other way of escape on the Day of Judgment, which will come for us all. Those who scorn His Gospel of Mercy will have nothing to fall back upon but His awful Justice. Jesus came to planet earth the first time as a Sacrificial Lamb. He came to die for us, and to offer us life. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. He will not return as a sacrificial lamb, however, but as a Just Judge. The King will return. Viva Criso Rei!

[Hat tip to former student Mr. Sjoquist who served beautifully as Subdeacon]

"My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge ..."

"My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge; because you have rejected knowledge, I reject you from being a priest to me. And since you have forgotten the law of your God, I also will forget your children." (Hosea 4:6)

THE LUKEWARM (an indictment):


One reason for the lukewarmness, of course, is lack of courage to stand against the tide of opposition to Catholic truth. It's a natural inclination to want to be liked by others. What happens when one stands for truth, even by modestly proposing that those who support same-sex relationships should not receive communion? One may expect to get SLAMMED by the hateful opposition, as the Archbishop of Detroit was recently slammed by Gay Episcopal Bishop Gene Robinson over this issue (see Deacon Greg Kandra's post, The Deacon's Bench, April 24, 2013). Let's face it. It can't be easy being a priest, much less a bishop.

I was talking with a colleague recently about Sunday homilies. What priests must constantly remind themselves of, he was saying, is that we don't go to Mass in order to listen to them voice their personal opinions or share their experiences. (How dull that could become. They're priests, for crying out loud, not stand up comics; and they should not confuse their roles any more than biological fathers should waste their time trying to persuade their kids that they're 'hip', which they never are.)

No, we go to hear the proclamation of God's Word. What does this mean, in practice? It means that the priest must "forget himself," as it were, in the moment of the homily and remember his role in persona Christi: the proclamation he gives is Christ's, not his own. This does not mean dwelling on a theology of condemnation, though he must not shy from speaking the judgment of God where it is required. It means he must become the voice of Christ calling His sheep to follow Him -- to green pastures, yes, but also in paths of righteousness for His Name's sake, as the Psalmist says (Ps 23). In other words, he must "man-up" and take on the persona Christi, become Christ to others; and that is no small task!

Update: Fr. Z, "WaPo: Homosexual Episcopal bishop dictates to Catholic what we should believe" (WDTPRS, April 29, 2013).

Would preaching like this be tolerated today?

One of my good Chaldean students and I were talking about homilies in the Church here in the United States today and the popularity of preaching what people like to hear, which makes little if any demands on them, and the paucity of preaching on sin, the self-discipline, and sanctification. He shared with me a link to this homily by St. Leonard of Port Maurice entitled "The Little Number of Those Who Are Saved" (Our Lady of the Rosary Library).

A comment at the bottom of the homily says: "This sermon by Saint Leonard of Port Maurice was preached during the reign of Pope Benedict XIV, who so loved the great missionary."

I couldn't help wondering if such preaching would be tolerated anywhere today. It might be considered too "frightening," despite the words of the writer of Proverbs that "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."

What makes good preaching?

I remember thinking about this question back when I was in graduate school and not yet a Catholic. I had heard hour-long sermons that seemed like ten minutes, and ten minute homilies that seemed like an hour; sermons so rich in content that one would take out a pad of paper and take notes, and sermons that were so forgettable one couldn't say what they were about five minutes afterward.

The first thing one has to ask is: What is a homily for? What is it's purpose? It's not primarily entertainment, although it helps if it's engaging. It's not primarily education, although it helps if it's edifying. It's not primarily therapy, although it helps if it's personally illuminating. It's not primarily moral exhortation, although it helps if it's morally challenging. A homily is the voice of the Good Shepherd telling us what we need to hear, not necessarily what we want to hear -- guiding us toward the safety of our heavenly fold.

A good homily builds a bridge from Jesus to ourselves. It bridges the historical chasm separating Palestine 2000 years ago and ourselves living where we are today in the 21st Century. It takes a theme or text from the Bible, like the story about the Prodigal Son, and draws an application. This is where the rubber meets to road. It has to engage us here and now in our own lives. We have to encounter the living God, Christ as our own Contemporary, and hear His call to repentance, to contrition, to acceptance of the Father's mercy, to holiness. This is what it means when a homily "touches" us.

Fr. John Ricardo is a priest from Our Lady of Good Council, a parish in Plymouth, MI, a suburb of Detroit. He is a good communicator, who makes good preaching look natural and easy. I wish we had more Catholic priests like him.

A cardinal who can preach

He looks and talks like Al Pacino, but preaches like St. John Chrysostom.

Commendations to Houston Baptist University for inviting Daniel Cardinal DiNardo to speak at its convocation on March 10, 2010. Commendations to his Eminence, Daniel Cardinal DiNardo, not only for accepting the invitation, but delivering what can only be called a sermon saturated with the Gospel of St. John.

Hunter Baker, a Baptist, in "Listening to a Cardinal . . ." (First Things, Evangel, March 11, 2010), expresses his amazement at the Cardinal's exposition of John's Gospel: "It was relentlessly scriptural and he clearly had mastery of his subject. He spoke comfortably from notes in a way that had the audience on the edge of their seats. There are days when you have to keep after students to leave their phones alone while a speaker is talking, but this was not one of them. Afterwards, many students lined up to speak with him....

I know there is a distance between catholics and protestants and that it is substantial, but listening to this cardinal preach has bolstered my confidence in the eventual unity of the church."

[Hat tip to J.M.]

Hushing horrid homilies & seeing the sacred in art

Sandro Magister writes (www.chiesa) :

ROME, January 21, 2010 – A stir was made recently by Bishop Mariano Crociata's criticism of the shoddy quality of many Sunday homilies.

Crociata is the secretary general of the Italian bishops' conference. Speaking at a conference on the liturgy at the end of the year, he called many of the homilies given from the pulpit every Sunday insipid "mush," almost an "inedible dish," and in any case "hardly nourishing."

His criticisms were picked up by "L'Osservatore Romano" and by Vatican Radio. There were some who retrieved a quip Joseph Ratzinger made when he was a cardinal: "The miracle of the Church is that it survives millions of terrible homilies every Sunday."

As pope, Ratzinger has made it abundantly clear that he thinks one of the primary duties of the Church is to elevate the quality of the homilies.

The homilies that he gives himself at public celebrations have become a characteristic feature of his pontificate. He prepares them personally, with extreme care. In fact, he proposes them as a model.

All well and good. One has to clearly discern the malady before understanding the remedy; and we can certainly give God thanks for the example offered by our Holy Father.

Massimo Naro, in a brief essay, "The artistic road to the sacred mysteries" (in the lower half of Sandro Magistro's above-linked post), reviews the latest volume of a three-volume work by Timothy Verdon – an art historian, priest, professor at Stanford University, and director of the diocesan office for catechesis through art in Florence – in which Verdon comments on the lectionary for Sunday and feast day Masses using masterpieces of Christian art chosen in conjunction with the Gospel of the day.

Whatever benefit this approach may have, it seems clear that what is sorely needed in Catholic seminary education is not only more exemplary models of inspiring and effective Gospel proclamation (such as a few of our seminaries have), but a deeper acquaintance with and deeper love for Scripture, and good, solid courses in practical biblical hermeneutics and the theology of preaching.

Fascinating Francis Footnote: "PREACH the gospel at all times ..."

"Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary use words," St. Francis is supposed to have said. That, at least, is the widespread sentimental conceit. Is it just me, or does that slogan also strike you as a perfect contemporary pretext for not preaching anything at all?

As luck would have it, we just received this timely email -- straight from the free promotional Blackberry of our HBCU (Hist. Black College & University) Correspondent on site in Assisi, Italy:

No, he was not the Christian answer to Euell Gibbons, nor a Birkenstock-sporting spouter of America Magazine- or Fr. James Martin-like platitudes. In fact, I wonder if he might even find the Crunchy Cons a bit too eager to embrace their 'Can't We All Just Get Along' Monday morning water cooler pacifism. ... But one thing is certain, and not at all surprising to me: all the folks who so eagerly eulogize Saint Francis' feed-the-birds, lawn-ornament affinities seem to have it more than a bit skewed in terms of the saint's celebrated rhetorical soft gloves. The same man who preached to the air threw himself in a fire. He was hardly harmless, in word or deed.

Our HBCU Correspondent then refers us to the following observations from Mark Galli, "Speak the Gospel" (Christianity Today, Mary 21, 2009):

I've heard the quote once too often. It's time to set the record straight—about the quote, and about the gospel.

Francis of Assisi is said to have said, "Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words."

This saying is carted out whenever someone wants to suggest that Christians talk about the gospel too much, and live the gospel too little. Fair enough—that can be a problem. Much of the rhetorical power of the quotation comes from the assumption that Francis not only said it but lived it.

The problem is that he did not say it. Nor did he live it. And those two contra-facts tell us something about the spirit of our age.

Let's commit a little history ...

First, no biography written within the first 200 years of his death contains the saying. It's not likely that a pithy quote like this would have been missed by his earliest disciples.

Second, in his day, Francis was known as much for his preaching as for his lifestyle.

... He apparently was a bit of a showman. He imitated the troubadours, employing poetry and word pictures to drive the message home. When he described the Nativity, listeners felt as if Mary was giving birth before their eyes; in rehearsing the crucifixion, the crowd (as did Francis) would shed tears.

Contrary to his current meek and mild image, Francis's preaching was known for both his kindness and severity. One moment, he was friendly and cheerful—prancing about as if he were playing a fiddle on a stick, or breaking out in song in praise to God and his creation. Another moment, he would turn fierce: "He denounced evil whenever he found it," wrote one early biographer, "and made no effort to palliate it; from him a life of sin met with outspoken rebuke, not support. He spoke with equal candor to great and small."

... In the fall of 1208, he sent the brothers out two by two to distant reaches. What did he tell them to say? In an early guide written during this period, Francis instructed his brothers to tell their listeners to "do penance, performing worthy fruits of penance, because we shall soon die … . Blessed are those who die in penance for they shall be in the kingdom of heaven. Woe to those who do not die in penance, for they shall be children of the devil whose works they do and they shall go into everlasting fire."

... Why is it, then, that we "remember" Francis as a wimp of a man who petted bunnies and never said a cross word, let alone much about the Cross?

I suspect we sentimentalize Francis—like we do many saints of ages past—because we live in a sentimental age. We want it to be true that we can be nice and sweet and all will be well....

"Preach the gospel; use words if necessary" goes hand in hand with a postmodern assumption that words are finally empty of meaning.... Of course we want our actions to match our words as much as possible. But the gospel is a message, news about an event and a person upon which the history of the planet turns. As blogger Justin Taylor recently put it, the Good News can no more be communicated by deeds than can the nightly news.

[Hat tip to J.M.]

Alleluja, Ascendit Deus in Jubilatione!

"Ascendit Deus in jubilatione, et Dominus in voce
tubae, alleluja." -- Psalm 46:6
The Feast of the Ascension reminds us of the pledge of our salvation that is ours through Christ. It brings to mind the thought, echoed somewhere in St. Athanasius, that as God became man in Christ without losing His divinity, so we shall become partakers of the divine nature (1 Peter 1:4) without losing our humanity. Why? Because in the Ascension, He elevates our humanity in His own Person to the right hand of God the Father.

Two things struck me at the Mass of the Ascension today, which in the old calendar is not moved to the closet Sunday for those who find the joy of assisting at Mass on a weekday an inconvenience. The first was our priest's homily, about which I will say more momentarily. The second was the delight of singing Salve Regina coelitum in the traditional Latin.

What struck me about the homily was Father's exceptional giftedness, of which he probably is not in the least conscious. As far as he's concerned, the impression I get is that he just sees himself as having a job to do, and he does it. But the remarkable thing is how well he does it. It is not just that he is utterly fearless in preaching those things that we Catholics need to hear but too often don't, even at the risk of stepping on toes. That alone would make such a priest an exceptional gift to any parish. Rather, what I have in view here is his natural gift for communicating important things in a simple and accessible way.

In this evening's homily he pulled together in a neat synthesis a remarkable number of items from the liturgical calendar, traditional devotions, biblical exposition, and hortative applications. He began by noting that in the calendar of the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Liturgy, Ascension Thursday falls precisely 40 days after Easter, just as Jesus, according to the New Testament narratives, remained for 40 days with His Apostles before His Ascension.

Tomorrow begins the mother of all novenas, the Novena to the Holy Spirit, the most ancient of novenas, culminating in the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles and Blessed Mother at Pentecost, exactly ten days hence. As the Catholic Encyclopedia says:

... for every novena of preparation, as also for every novena of prayer, not only the best explanation but also the best model and example was given by Christ Himself to the Church in the first Pentecost novena. He Himself expressly exhorted the Apostles to make this preparation. And when the young Church had faithfully persevered for nine full days in it, the Holy Ghost came as the precious fruit of this first Christian novena for the feast of the establishment and foundation of the Church.

St. Luke records in Acts 1:1-11 (the Epistle for today) that Jesus "commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but should wait for the promise of the Father." What follows upon this awaited promise of the Holy Spirit? Authority and power. Before His Ascension, Jesus says: "... you shall receive the power of the Holy Ghost coming upon you, and you shall be witnesses unto Me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the uttermost part of the earth." Likewise, St. Mark 16:14-20 (the Gospel for today) juxtaposes the new signs and wonders that the Apostles may expect to perform with the imperative: "Go ye into the whole world and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved: but he that beliveth not shall be condemned."

Thus the liturgical feast days, the traditional novena, and Biblical texts fit together seamlessly. What made the homily exceptional, however, was the way Father developed the Biblical narrative in experiential terms that helped it come alive. While I cannot hope to reproduce his homily with all his illustrations properly connect here, I offer a few thoughts in following.

How indescribably stunning the rapid succession of these events must have been for Jesus' little band of Apostles: He rises from the dead; and as if that weren't enough to keep them reeling in vertigo, forty days later He ascends from the earth and disappears into the heavens! How dizzying it must have been for them.

In the interval, Jesus spent forty days with them, but they did not at first fathom the reality of His Resurrection. Jesus once appeared to them after a night of fishing on the Sea of Tiberias, in which they caught nothing; but they did not recognize Him. St. John writes: "Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus" (Jn. 21:4). Only after Jesus tells them to cast their nets on the other side of their boat, and their nets were miraculously filled to overflowing, did John say to Peter: "It is the Lord!" and Peter jumped into the water and rushed to Him. "When they had landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread," writes John (v.9). Remarkable: Jesus fixed them breakfast and had it waiting for them!

This was the third time that Jesus had appeared to them, and yet they had trouble believing that He had truly risen. Then, only a week or two later, Jesus stood before them on a mountain, and, having finished instructing them, was lifted up before them and ascended into Heaven.

One of the themes Father developed was that of parting -- of all good things coming to an end. Once it sank into their heads that Jesus had really returned to them from the dead, the Apostles must have found the departure of Jesus a precipitous and shocking disappointment. How often do we, too, find ourselves dreading the moment when some pleasant experience draws to a close, when friends, family members, or relatives must leave or be parted from one another. The son or daughter must go off to kindergarten, and the mother feels the pangs of sadness at the parting, no less than the child. A vacation draws to a close. The festivities of a Polish Christmas Eve or family reunion comes to an end, and grandmother and grandfather, or grandchildren, must leave. Then, of course, there is the ultimate separation of death.

What we have difficulty grasping, however, is the greater good that comes only via these partings. The kindergartener graduates and moves on through successive grades in order to grow into a mature adult. Jesus leaves His followers and ascends to Heaven, in order that He might send us the gift of the Holy Spirit. The final separation of death is but a prelude to the Eternal Reunion of the heavenly family. As C.S. Lewis once put it, when seeing off a friend in a crowded London train station, having turned and walked across the street through the crowd, and turning again to shout back at his friend over the mass of heads between them: "Christians never have to say Goodbye!"

Salve Regina coelitum

1. Sálve Regína coélitum,
O María. Sors única terrígenum,
O María.

Jubiláte Chérubim,
exsultáte Séraphim,
consonáte pérpetim.
Sálve, sálve, sálve Regína.

2. Máter misericórdiae,
O María. Dúlcis párens cleméntiae,
O María. Jubilate ...

3. Tu vítae lux, fons grátiae,
O María. Cáusa nóstrae laetítiae,
O María. Jubilate ...

4. Spes nostra, salve, Domina
O Maria. Exstingue nostra crimina!
O Maria. Jubilate ...

Better homilies? Biblical literacy? Huzzah!

Sandro Magister, "The Synod Wants Better Homilies. With the Pope as the Model" (www.chiesa, October 17, 2008): "The synod fathers are proposing a "manual" to elevate the quality of preaching. But the living example is Benedict XVI. Here is the unscripted meditation with which he opened the working sessions, while stock markets were collapsing around the world."

I'm glad he mentioned the need for a "living example." From my experience no manual would do the trick. What Catholic priests and seminarians need is good exemplars, and they are few and far between, although this is one of the crying needs of our day.

In related news, see Magister's post, "The Art of Reading the Scriptures. A Lesson for Today's Illiterates" (www.chiesa, October 16, 2008): "It is the liturgy that must again shape the reading and understanding of the Bible. Just as in medieval monasticism, creator of modern civilization. Timothy Verdon explains why, at a synod that has reached the halfway point."

While this is true (that liturgy must shape reading and understanding the Bible), it is no substitute for sitting down and reading through the books of the Bible first-hand. While the lectionary and liturgy provides the necessary framework, these alone will not provide an integrated synoptic grasp of the books of the Bible and how they fit together within themselves and into the whole of Scripture and Tradition. One must read the Bible. In fact, one must make a habit of reading the Bible, and not just as found in the Breviary or Divine Office.

I wish all Catholic seminaries required a first-hand mastery of Scripture and a substantial course in Biblical theological hermeneutics. This would prevent some of the superficiality and slipshod errors that one finds in discussions about the Catholic Faith at the parish level. It's not enough for priests and seminarians to get down the public speaking technique. One has to know what the Word of God in order to proclaim it. As St. Jerome says: "Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ."