Popular Misconceptions About the Catholic Mass, Part 1: Music

by Michael Raia

Pope Francis incenses the altar at the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul during his visit to Philadelphia. (Source: CNS / Paul Haring)

This post was originally published on November 30, 2015 at JacksonGalloway.com

It should be noted that the intent of this article is to clarify common misconceptions about which are or are not universal liturgical requirements of the Church. Within these guidelines the Church provides, however, it is always stated that the local ordinary (bishop) is to determine the norm or practice for his own jurisdiction.   

INTRODUCTION

Numerous articles and studies published in recent months and years indicate that without a doubt the Catholic Church is changing, and look to millennial trends in part to do so. Conversely – partially as cause and partially as effect – observable shifts in the spirituality of the laity have also been taking place, and a resurgence of traditional aspects of worship are ushering in a sense of deepening reverence and piety among the current youth and young adult populations. 

So what is the evidence of this change? Dioceses are revising guidelines for the design of sacred buildings with a greater emphasis on tradition and good liturgical theology. Music directors are rediscovering the beauty of chant and traditional hymnody as they are being republished with increasing frequency in various forms to serve the liturgy. Youth and adult ministries structured around orthodox catechesis and traditional worship and devotion are flourishing to the point of lacking adequate space in many parishes. New media featuring music, audio, literature, and video abound. Parishes are hiring graphic designers and communications directors to improve the efficacy with which information is distributed to a people who increasingly expect the availability of on-demand information regarding Mass and sacrament times, ministry calendars, online giving, and homily archives. Many times credited to the efforts of now Saint Pope John Paul II and his popularization of the New Evangelization, these bright spots that for many indicate a renewed energy and devotion within the faith nonetheless cause dismay for some as both theological and practical regressions. In light of the very apparent generational transition that the Church is  currently facing, without going into intimate detail (and in truth, hardly doing each justice), a few growing trends seem to be worth some prayerful consideration as we each discern our contributions to the Church both as she is and in the direction she's moving.

The subjects discussed below are topics about which the Church did not issue official mandatory directives for change following Vatican II, yet all of them changed in widespread practice, particularly in the U.S.  Many such changes to liturgical practice were happening even before the Council in anticipation of what might be decided thereafter. Many of the freedoms granted after Vatican II elicited an over-zealous and in some ways premature response to what the Council intended to accomplish. In an article published on Adoremus a few years ago called “The Day the Mass Changed,” Susan Benofy recalls the sequence of events around this time and gives some background to changes many have since assumed Vatican II mandated. These changes resulted in many clearly re-asserted directives within the documents being overshadowed by a larger clamor for particular reform, encouraged by the same sensationalism of the secular media we have seen in recent times and also headed by many clergy and lay leaders desiring a more radical degree of change. 

We will only briefly outline the underlying liturgical topics below to understand their relationship to church architecture and the sacred arts. Hopefully this initial glance will invite those seeking deeper understanding to study some of the more detailed and in-depth expert resources linked within for further contemplation and discussion.

PART I:  Music

Saint Cecilia in a window in the church of St Mary The Virgin in Little Wymondley in Hertfordshire.

“The notion that the Church replaced antiphons and propers with hymns and songs, and did away with chant and Latin is not accurate.”

There are few subjects that can divide Catholics as quickly as musical preference. Quite literally, in most American parishes, there are at least two prevalent forms of music to appease two camps – usually referred to as “traditional” and “contemporary” – with many parishes also tossing into the mix a Spanish Mass and a Saturday evening vigil or early Sunday morning music-less Mass for the time-conscious. Worship style has become a commodity, and it's an idea reinforced by the services of our Protestant brethren in many places.

But increasingly today, the idea of true worship – not as a commodity but as a place of deep communal prayer – is becoming a much sought-after ideal: the possibility that music used at Mass could transcend style and draw all who participate into the highest state of worship. The cases for various types of music abound, but here we're simply suggesting it's time to take a closer look at what we are singing.

Some instances of questionable doctrinal content aside, much of the music published in the last 50 years that is widely used in Catholic Masses today lacks the richness of spiritual depth and beauty that is contained in more ancient pieces. Any musician who has read the Church documents and guidelines for music in the Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium, Musica Sacram*) might be wondering why organ and chant are constantly mentioned, almost without a second thought about something else being used instead, except where the exceptions are clearly stated. Without at all suggesting a ban on any instrument or musical style, shouldn't we be asking the question "why isn't the normative practice in the documents the normative practice in our parishes?" or from another angle, "why has the exception become the rule?" Many of us have grown comfortable and familiar with what we have practiced for years, and change doesn't come easily. "The Church did away with Latin and chant." How many times have we heard this myth? In light of this popular misconception, it is particularly interesting to see the surging popularity of these elements among the youngest demographics in the Church. It makes one wonder how exactly the radical change in music after Vatican II happened so quickly.

In her five-part article published in the Adoremus Bulletin called “Buried Treasure,” Susan Benofy gives a great account of this development, including the tragic circumstances surrounding the release of the Graduale Simplex (Simple Gradual). Read more about that here. This liturgical music resource, while intended to serve as a simpler version of the Church's official song book to make chant more widely available and accessible, hardly made a wave in a liturgical landscape bursting with enthusiasm for what was perceived as a collective dismissal of previous rules and traditions. Published in 1967 well after the writing was on the wall about where liturgical music was heading in popular practice this effectively opened the doors to a number of substitutions (many of which had been experimentally implemented years prior to the culmination of the council, e.g. the Dialogue Mass and later the folk Mass), resulting in the almost-universal replacement of the majority of music that the Council actually intended to be sung at Mass. Unfortunately, as the plans for implementing the liturgical changes the Council intended was released, it was too little too late for a Church that had already made a radical shift. 

The details of the case for each of the points below are abundant, and there are many seasoned experts in music who do an excellent job of explaining them. That said, the notion that the Church replaced propers and antiphons with hymns and songs and did away with chant and Latin is not accurate. These aspects are worth a little further study from all Catholics to cultivate, in small steps, a more inclusive understanding of our faith and our practice of liturgy. They also form the framework for some small steps I am personally taking in my ministry to youth and young adults to foster greater knowledge and increased liturgical participation. 

1) GREATER USE OF THE PROPERS / ANTIPHONS,

and a more restrained use of making the exception to them (hymns or other suitable songs) the rule. The Church assigns Scriptural texts for use in musical settings; before we replace them with something from another source, particularly something that is not a Scriptural text, let's look harder at trying to include them first. Our Mass is intended to be packed with Scripture. Putting Scripture on the lips of the assembly is the best way to help them pray the Mass. If selecting hymns, the most appropriate content is that which reflects the spirit or message, if not the words, of Scriptural text assigned.   

2) GREATER APPRECIATION FOR CHANT,

particularly in the context of Progressive Solemnity (higher feasts have more extravagant liturgies), meaning that perhaps chant is initially reserved and integrated as a component for special seasons and feasts, such as Advent/Christmas and Lent/Easter. These special times should feature particularly reverent and special music. The language in the liturgical guidelines concerning penitential seasons speaks of putting away the instruments, all but the bare minimum accompaniment for supporting singing. The Church speaks of the human voice as the primary instrument of the liturgy, with pipe organ second. Attempting to honor this “pride of place” and this integral part of our tradition is something everyone should have in mind, particularly priests, who are instructed to sing specific prayers of the Mass. We know from the adage attributed to St. Augustine that a sung prayer packs twice the punch as it joints our heart to our voices in prayer – "a sacrifice of praise." 

3) GREATER INCLUSION OF LATIN IN THE MASS.

How wonderful is it that we Catholics have our own sacred tongue? Sure, that’s because Latin, which used to be a widespread imperial language of commerce within a pagan society, is now a dead language and is used mostly by scientists, historians, and theologians. Nonetheless, it's not only a huge part of our history and our Liturgy, the Church actually expected it to still be used in part in vernacular liturgies after Vatican II. The historical aspects of our heritage are important in understanding Sacred Tradition and in being mindful of the Communion of Saints. There is no more beautiful picture than the Mystical Body of Christ on earth, in purgatory, and in heaven (the Church militant, suffering, and triumphant) united in worship and glorifying God in the same tongue in so far as that is possible on earth – the Mass being the closest glimpse of heaven available to us. If children and converts can learn the Creed, they and any of the rest us can learn the Sanctus to “join the choirs of angels as they sing …”      

So, why sing the Mass? If attempting to pray as powerfully and beautifully as possible is not enough reason, the most helpful guidelines for our worship, the General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM), tells us to do so (sections 39-41). Why learn these parts in Latin? Again, see the same sections of the GIRM:

“Since the faithful from different countries come together ever more frequently, it is fitting that they know how to sing together at least some parts of the Ordinary of the Mass in Latin, especially the Creed and the Lord's Prayer, set to the simpler melodies. (41)”  

Monks displaying an illuminated score at Mission Santa Barbara, California, ca.1904

*While there are several more general resources for current musical guidelines, the most thorough and authoritative is the 1967 Vatican II document Musica Sacram (Instruction on Music in the Liturgy), which dispels many common misconceptions about Catholic liturgical music. For further reading, three documents that paved the way for Musica Sacram lend additional understanding to the topic: an earlier Vatican II document, Sacrosanctum Concilium (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, 1963) as well as the 1947 Encyclical of Venerable Pope Pius XII, Mediator Dei and the  1903 Motu Proprio of Pope Saint Pius X, Tra le Sollecitudini (Instruction on Sacred Music). 

For some excellent examples of current endeavors to integrate these concepts into the Mass, browse chant resources from the Lumen Christi Series by Illuminare Publications (Adam Bartlett), Corpus Christi Watershed (Jeff Ostrowski), Chant Café (Jeffrey Tucker), and two new products from Ignatius: The Proper of the Mass (Fr. Samuel F. Weber, O.S.B.), and Pew Missal 2015, distributed by Lighthouse Catholic Media.

This post is the first in a series of 3. See also Part 2: Versus Populum, and Part 3: Communion Reception.

Remnants of a Bygone Era

by Michael Raia

Entry portal at St. Joseph Cathedral, Colombus, OH. source

This post was originally published on July 29, 2015 at JacksonGalloway.com

Is it possible to construct a beautiful traditional church in these times?

People in areas that are relatively absent of historic church architecture often ask me if it's possible to design churches in the architectural traditions that endured until the mid 1900s – romanesque, gothic, classical, and the many variations and combinations thereof.  Many parts of the country are dotted with magnificent old churches that continue to be sources of inspiration and devotion for countless Christians, but in other areas where the Church is relatively young and is rapidly growing, this heritage seems little more than a distant memory. Trends in many of these areas are seeing a resurgence of popularity for traditional cathedral, monastery, shrine, and parish churches, but as any of the pastors associated with these projects would tell you, it is no easy task. Furthermore, from a critic's perspective,the design quality of these projects varies. There lies ahead a long road to reclaiming a culture that was essential to the flourishing of the rich architectural tradition of the Catholic Church; the decline of which in our lifetime has left the Church changed in so many ways.

"Building a traditional church today requires education and formation for all involved to move beyond under-informed, simplistic, and emotional preferences that often drive so many of our personal opinions on church architecture."

Below we will discuss a few reasons why building beautiful traditionally-designed buildings today remains a monumental challenge for those of us seeking to do so.

Church steeples tower over the 1915 Boston skyline. source

SOCIETY HAS RADICALLY CHANGED.

Consider the shifts that we have witnessed in the last few decades. Public practice and even tolerance of religion continues to wane. Accordingly, cathedral spires no longer dominate city skylines. The veiling of downtown cathedrals behind a curtain of steel and glass skyscrapers reflects and parallels faith taking a backseat in our culture. Where religious practice was once the centerpiece – even if only an outward observance – it is no longer a priority for the majority of citizens. Many of the impressive churches built in the late 1800s and early 1900s required the comparable funds required to build several hundred homes. This reflected the sacrificial giving of every member of a parish community, whether in the big city or even in the smallest towns. Today, depending on parish size, that number is more like 10 - 20 homes for an average-sized church. Many massive neighborhood churches recorded membership of only several hundred, or maybe over a thousand families. Churches a fraction of the quality and scale are being built for suburban parishes boasting membership of thousands of families. Furthermore, our homes boast finer materials, ornamentation, and art than many of the churches being built in our time. Where our priorities lie, there our wallets follow. 

St. Columbanus, South Side Chicago, c. 1923. source

PARISH COMMUNITIES HAVE DRAMATICALLY CHANGED.

The landscape of the typical urban or suburban parish has changed dramatically. A hundred years ago, cities were made up of neighborhoods dotted with parishes boasting magnificent churches little more than throwing distance apart. Despite boasting gorgeous and often massive churches, these parishes were smaller than those thriving today, but were much better supported by the loyal parishioners. In cities like Chicago, Milwaukee, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Boston, and St. Louis, the heavily Catholic immigrant populations of Irish, Italians, Germans, Czechs, and Poles that contributed to the rapid growth – the majority being ardent in the practice of their faith – no longer represent the typical demographic of parish life. Neighborhoods are more diverse culturally and in terms of faith practice. Additionally, fewer people feel a loyalty to their local parish. Many of us will choose to attend a parish based on the pastor or the music program, sometimes preferring to "church hop" between multiple parishes. As a result, the identity of a parish and the associated feeling of responsibility for financial support is weaker than it used to be.  

ARCHITECTURE HAS SIGNIFICANTLY CHANGED.

And not just stylistically. The modern era saw great improvements in the potential to build bigger, higher, and faster. Materials are quickly mass-produced. Craftsmanship is not what it used to be. Labor is expensive, and in some parts of the country today, hard to come by at all, regardless of quality. The decline in trades has seen, in large part, the disappearance of artisan trades such as hand-carving. The resurgence of stained glass has been a standout. Master stone masons and carpenters would often come from within the parishes they served, and seeing carved stone and wood was a common occurrence in all sorts of public buildings and even homes. These skill sets are rare today because the nature of construction has changed and much of the old knowledge lost. Where these trades can be found, they are often expensive and time-consuming. Many Cathedrals took decades to build. Most construction timelines account for a church to be completed, on average, in about a year or year and a half from groundbreaking. This pace rarely allows for the same attention in detail to be given as it once was, not only in homes but in other public and private buildings as well. 

St. Mary of the Angels, Chicago during construction in 1911 (left) and in the 1940s (right). Photos from John Chuckman.

OTHER MODERN PRACTICAL CONSIDERATIONS HAVE CHANGED.

Building codes require larger corridors and doorways, elevators, and ramps for accessibility and egress. Extensive fire sprinkler systems are required in many new church buildings. The height of steeples is often restricted by local ordinances. Emphasis on clarity of speech in the spoken word has added acoustical requirements that pose challenges for designers and musicians. Many restrictions and requirements exist now that did not impede the growth of the magnificent structures from the last two centuries that stand as monuments to the Catholic faith in America. 

WHAT DOES IT TAKE TODAY?

There are quite a few articles that cite the resurgence of traditional architecture in recent years, such as Denis McNamara's A Decade of New Classicism: The Flowering of Traditional Church Architecture published in Sacred Architecture Journal, Michael DeSanctis's Upon This Foundation in America Magazine, New Traditional Churches in America Magazine and Michael Tamara's A New Direction in Church Design published in Crisis Magazine. The success of some of the examples discussed in these articles varies quite a bit. It seems that some of the primary questions underlie the degree to which each is successful: What is our modern Catholic identity? How do we afford to build churches that are beautiful and lasting? How do we adapt traditional design styles to new construction methods and building standards? To successfully build a traditional church today requires a tremendous effort and commitment to answering these questions well. There is certainly much standing in the way of such a task, ranging from theoretical to practical. Debates about liturgical practice continue as the Church strives to continue to implement the teachings of the Council. Negative sentiments about traditional liturgy, music, art, and architecture from older generations linger. Many church architects continue to push the boundaries of design with new materials and varied amounts of liturgical formation. Construction prices continue to climb.

To overcome these obstacles requires a great deal of patience and communication from those leading the building project. More than anything, building a traditional church today requires education and formation for all involved to move beyond under-informed, simplistic, and emotional preferences that often drive so many of our personal opinions on church architecture. A parish that is well-versed in the theology of a church building will understand the vital impact it will have on the liturgy, and as a result, on the Christian life. The absolute starting place for that process is understanding the nature of sacraments and sacraments as making visible the invisible. As such, a church building can make tangible and present the invisible realities that compose our faith. A parish that has been taught to understand and pray this way will enthusiastically contribute in every way to making a beautiful church a reality in spite of the obstacles. It is this type of integration of the priorities of worship and daily living that inspired our ancestors to line the cityscape horizons of America's great metropolises with the magnificent churches we revere. It is through the work of the New Evangelization that we can bring about an era of renewed worship and renewed dedication to allowing the beauty and richness of our faith to be seen and celebrated by all.        

Catholic Architecture & the Mind of the Church – Part 2

by Michael Raia

Queen of All Saints Basilica in Northwest Chicago. Photo by Matt Frankel.

This post was originally published on September 12, 2014 at JacksonGalloway.com

As discussed in Architecture & The Mind of the Church – Part 1 regarding the Catholic view of architecture and theology, we properly understand church buildings as vehicles for communicating to us what happens in the Mass through the liturgy, what God has done and is doing for all of humanity, and what he is doing in the Church for those who have taken heed of the Gospel. At times it can seem incredibly intimidating to be Catholic. There is so much to know. The Bible alone is daunting to most, filled with chapter after chapter, listing rules for living and telling stories and lineages of hundreds of unfamiliar characters. Add to Scriptures the history of the Church and all of the theology that comes from it – sacramental theology, moral theology, canon law, the list goes on. We have an incredibly rich treasury from which to draw in all aspects that relate to the liturgy. How do we accurately convey the important lessons of the faith with a building? Which stories do we tell? What images do we use? Fortunately, we don't have to start from scratch, which is where, in my opinion, many church architects can go wrong by attempting to start with a blank slate. Tradition is not only a big help, it's a necessary part of the design of a church.   

“Church design approach can primarily be categorized into two schools of thought: imitating and elaborating on what has been done in the past, or reinventing.”

TRADITION AND TRADITION 

A word on tradition: the term without a doubt raises blood pressures almost immediately. In response to the broadly over-simplified terms modern and traditional, typical responses range from, ‘Well, which tradition do you mean?’ to ‘Since when is modernism still modern?’ The terms do more justice to an underlying design philosophy than they do to describing a particular style. Church design approach can primarily be categorized into two schools of thought: imitating and elaborating on what has been done in the past, or reinventing. To get a little beyond the political aspects of the debate, we need to clarify what we mean by tradition and how we understand it playing a part in the development and growth of the Church. Tradition with a capital T is not the same as an architectural tradition. The Roman Catholic Church professes the guidance of the Holy Spirit assured by Christ. The Church's authority, since the earliest centuries of the faith, has primarily come from two co-equal sources: Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition. The Tradition that authored the Scriptures was born of the liturgy and preserves it still today. Tradition with a capital T holds authority in matters of faith and morals and includes Magisterial teachings, certain papal writings, and the broader collection of dogmas and doctrines made available in documents such as the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Accordingly, Sacred Tradition has something to say about the architecture of a church. St. John Paul II put this beautifully in his encyclical Ecclesia De Eucharistia:

Architecture, sculpture, painting and music, moved by the Christian mystery, have found in the Eucharist, both directly and indirectly, a source of great inspiration. Such was the case, for example, with architecture, which witnessed the transition, once the historical situation made it possible, from the first places of Eucharistic celebration in the domus or “homes” of Christian families to the solemn basilicas of the early centuries, to the imposing cathedrals of the Middle Ages, and to the churches, large and small, which gradually sprang up throughout the lands touched by Christianity. The designs of altars and tabernacles within Church interiors were often not simply motivated by artistic inspiration but also by a clear understanding of the mystery.

Architectural design traditions are born from Sacred Tradition and should embody it inherently. The extent to which they do determines their success. The difficulty for both the end users of the church building and its design professionals is that designers are told what to do but not exactly how to do it. 'Build a space suitable for the liturgy' seems to mean very different things to different people. The documents leave a lot of room for interpretation, and this is where the architect's understanding of the sacramental life of the Church is crucial.

The church building is a physical representation of the Church – the Body of believers who assemble for worship within. The architect must know and comprehend the sacramental life to capture and bring it to life for the thousands of people who will be baptized, confirmed, married, even ordained within a church building's lifespan. The reason for the Church's apparent lack of concrete design guidelines, arguably, is because when we speak of tradition in an architectural sense, we must be careful to not substitute an architectural tradition for Sacred Tradition. The latter is authoritative and the former is not. Certainly elements of our architectural tradition across various Christian cultures wonderfully capture the essential aspects of the faith. However, as with sacred music and art, the Church never mandates a particular style and is always careful to leave room for creativity and vernacular expression, delegating authority regarding architectural norms to the bishop or local body of bishops. This freedom gave rise to the regional innovations that led to all of the great architectural styles we see preserved in the great cathedrals and churches around the world today. This freedom also leaves creating a unique structure, capable of conveying the richness, history, and mystery of our ancient faith, speaking with the language of the Church, up to pastors, architects, and building committees. What a monumental challenge! It's such a challenge in fact, that in the last few years the Vatican has urged an improvement in respecting the tradition of music, art, and architecture in the Church, and many bishops have re-written their diocesan guidelines to compensate for the often misused leeway afforded in the normative document Built of Living Stones authored by the USSCB in 2000.

Mosaic of peacocks drinking from the streams of eternal life, St. Matthew Cathedral, Washington, D.C.

“...the church building is a symbolic representation of the perfection and eternity of heaven.”

What exactly is the Vatican urging? Education and formation. Fortunately, this is already happening. Priests and lay people alike are receiving better education and formation, and in many places, improvements in the built environment are being demanded as a result. True, there is no perfect church on earth; in its essence, the church building is a symbolic representation of the perfection and eternity of heaven. We do the best we can to reflect the glory of heaven in stone and glass, to borrow the idea from Fr. Robert Barron. That said, we have an obligation to be well formed and faithful, to the best of our abilities, to the responsibilities the Church gives us. One of those responsibilities is to respect the deposit of faith from ages past. That is where the question of how we treat tradition with new architectural styles comes in.

Front façade of Queen of All Saints Basilica in Chicago. Photo by mambol.

CONTEMPORARY INFLUENCE 

Volumes of books have been written about contemporary churches of the last few decades, particularly those which were intended to re-imagine and replace the architectural traditions that came before. While the landscape for new church design is changing, the trend remains a hotly debated topic. I am personally not interested in a wholesale dismissal of modernism, or an unequivocal endorsement of every traditional church. Neither stance offers a good explanation of what about churches makes them more or less successful for liturgy. That knowledge is what shapes the churches we will build for years to come. Without an openness to progress (provided this progress is guided by a proper sacramental understanding), we stifle the potential for growth and change what allowed the great architectural traditions to flourish. Each style and tradition drew from and expanded upon ones before. There are many examples of thoughtful modern interpretations of traditional design to varying degrees. One of my favorite is in Chicago. Pictured at the top of this article and above, Queen of All Saints Basilica is a beautiful art deco-inspired neo-gothic church. The art deco style, synonymous for many with the spirit of the Roaring Twenties, can be seen in well known national landmarks like the Chrysler Building in New York as well as in many courthouses, theaters, and other public buildings across the U.S. This attempt to blend secular architectural vocabulary with the vocabulary of Gothic Revival is a careful and very thoughtful one that parallels similar efforts in other traditional buildings lauded for their designs. In my opinion, the results are stunning. 

The approach taken at Queen of All Saints, however, is unfortunately not the paradigm for the design approach employed by many church architects seeking to incorporate contemporary influence since the Second Vatican Council. In extreme cases, it seems that the architect either barely grasped or entirely missed the proper understanding of the Mass and cared little for communicating with the visual sacramental language of the Church. Valid ideas for emphasizing community and order are often taken to an extreme outside of the appropriate and fuller context of the theology of the liturgy – that the only way to express community in liturgy is through a round plan with a central altar, or that the only way to express order is to reduce the environment to the barest form of its essential elements. The issue here is that a social thinking is prevailing over the thinking of the Church. The extremes are often incorrectly interpreted as opposed to other vital aspects with which they should exist in balance and harmony. In the liturgy, by virtue of the celebration of the Eucharist itself, we are in communion and are united in the Body of Christ, which includes both a clear order and hierarchy with Christ as the head. The addition of other sacramental elements, if done with care, expresses, enriches, and enlivens this reality, and takes nothing away. The ideas that so frequently dominate the extremes in church architecture are usually correct but incomplete. This 'either/or' thinking misses the beauty of the Catholic 'both/and' that more accurately and more fully expresses the thinking of the Church. 

Chapel of St. Ignatius by Steven Holl.

Another trend has been to build churches that were designed primarily for contemplation, which is an idea that is sometimes mistakenly used interchangeably with the celebration of liturgy. Take for example a building that has been very popular in the architectural community since it was built: Steven Holl's St. Ignatius Chapel. I was in architecture school shortly after its completion, and while I appreciated certain aspects of the design and readily admit it is well composed, authentic, and has some very appealing spiritual characteristics, I have always felt it falls very short as a Catholic liturgical building. My primary criticism is that it is both lacking in specifics and lacking in fullness of expression. It could easily be a prayer or meditation room for a number of other denominations, even other faiths. There are also aspects that feel more appropriately suited to another important public building such as a museum or gallery than a Catholic church. I do not believe that this fact alone makes it wholly unsuitable for Catholic worship; rather, I believe it should not be held up as a paradigm for excellent liturgical design. While I have not spoken with Mr. Holl about his design process or concepts, the result seems devoid of intentional Christian imagery with which to bring the Gospel to life. The story being told is at least minimal, if not indicative of the attitude of spiritual pluralism so familiar in secular American society. Even if well-executed compositionally and stylistically, the building's appearance favors an architect's personal architectural vision over that of the Church. Again we see a case of extremes; the middle road offers a path for the architect to humbly offer his own talents in obedient service to the Church. As St. John Paul II put it, motivation comes not only from artistic inspiration, but from a firm grasp of the mystery. There is room there for both the traditional sacramental language of the Church and the creativity of the architect seeking to express it. The critical acclaim on Steven's website is telling. Only architects are quoted, and if there is a mention of anything spiritual, it is in several places stated that the merit of the design is its minimalism. Christianity is not a faith of minimalism. It is not a spirituality that ultimately seeks emptiness; it is one of richness and fullness of life in Christ. Numerous Church documents, including Ecclesia De Eucharistia, discuss giving the Eucharist and all of the things to which it is related (music, art, and architecture) the absolute best, fullest, and most beautiful expression that we can offer. This begs the question: are buildings such as St. Ignatius Chapel really the best we can do? Some architectural professionals and enthusiasts would answer with a resounding yes – the qualities of light and texture are certainly not overlooked – but we must look deeper still. Is this admiration for the design an emotional response due to a preference for a particular style or are we truly considering the responsibility the church building's designers have to embody and communicate the fullness of the Gospel in the best way they are able? Personally, I think the Church is ready for something more.

“Equipped with both the inspiration of the ancient traditions and the fire of the New Evangelization, we stand ready to walk down the via media, the middle road”

When considering the role of contemporary styles in church architecture, interpretation certainly plays a large part. The current endeavor should be to return to and further refine the traditions with which we have been entrusted – traditions from which we can learn a great deal. It is only through a proper understanding and mastery of the realities that have informed the traditions of Christian history that we can even hope to successfully integrate contemporary elements. This reverence for the rich architectural history of the Church is not a form of slavery to what has come before any more than the early gothic innovators felt enslaved to romanesque forms before them. Architectural creativity will flourish best in the appropriate context of the liturgy that gives it life. Architects need to understand and embrace the liturgy, and the people in the pews need to expect as much. I think that time is now. Equipped with both the inspiration of the ancient traditions and the fire of the New Evangelization, we stand ready to walk down the via media, the middle road – to love the liturgy for all it offers and no longer settle for a culture of spiritual minimalism. We are ready for more churches that show us heaven on earth and encourage us to go out and bring that vision to the whole world.

Catholic Architecture & the Mind of the Church – Part 1

by Michael Raia

St. Louis Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis, MO. Photo by William Haun.

This post was originally published on August 27, 2014 at JacksonGalloway.com

In this first of what will be several posts on liturgy and architecture, I wanted to discuss church design from the perspective of the Catholic Church, on the heels of completing my first Masters in Liturgy summer session in Chicago. While some of the principles below may appeal to Christians from different backgrounds, it should be stated that they are primarily presented from a Catholic view of sacramental theology and viewed in light of the implications they bear for our work as architects with Catholic clients. 

“...the language of the architecture of a church building should be in harmony with the language of the Church.”

ONTOLOGY & LANGUAGE

Physical objects communicate to us on several levels. A scientist might tell you that an apple and its parts are made up of specific molecular structures. A a basic level for most people it is just food, but it is also a symbol: health, original sin, an extremely successful tech brand… Fr. Douglas Martis, Director of the Liturgical Institute at the University of Saint Mary of the Lake, uses water as an example to explain the various layers of symbols in the sacraments: "When the Church says 'water,' she doesn't just mean the chemical formula H2O. She means the waters of baptism, the waters of creation, the waters of the flood, the waters of the Red Sea, the waters of the Jordan, the blood and water flowing from the side of Christ, and the living water flowing from the throne in the book of Revelation – and she means all of that, all at once, all at the same time." Architecture is no different. Buildings are composed of parts that can be seen as the materials from which they are made, but they also serve a purpose and represent ideas that are central to our faith. Architecture speaks. Architects and designers are responsible for determining the message every building they design communicates. The language of the architecture of a Catholic church building should be in harmony with the language of the Church herself. Gaining an understanding of this language – how to see and hear sacramental language with the eyes and ears of the Church – requires education, not only for those involved with the planning and design process, but also for the ministers and the lay faithful who will celebrate the liturgy within a church building. This way of understanding with the mind of the Church is an essential part of our Christian tradition and a source of life for our participation in liturgy. If we hope to point people to beauty inherent in every Mass, we must provide something tangible to do the pointing.

“…we believe that things set apart for a sacred purpose are themselves sacred; they are an extension of the sacramental life of the Church.”

BEAUTY & SACRAMENTALITY 

Understanding church architecture from an ontological perspective means that we want a church building to express what it already is: a physical representation of heaven on earth. The Mass already is heaven on earth, so everything that surrounds the liturgy should point our attention towards it and tell us, "look, this is really special." The Mass possesses inherent beauty as the highest form of prayer and the presence of Christ's redeeming sacrifice for all mankind. Liturgical architecture is one of the languages with which we describe that beauty. Liturgy is inseparable from its built environment, the church building, in the same way Baptism is inseparable from water. We need an altar and candles. We need to see the myriad of angels and the communion of saints depicted as uniting in prayer with us. The Church has always understood these ideas as central to the celebration of the Eucharistic mystery. Material objects are an essential part of all of the sacraments. God chose not only to create the material world and to breathe his very life into it, but also to indwell what he created, elevating the nature of being of all created things; most perfectly, humanity. Because of this, we believe that things set apart for a sacred purpose are themselves sacred; they are an extension of the sacramental life of the Church. Just as we are by definition both matter and spirit, the sacraments too contain a necessary material component that is sacred and exists alongside the spiritual reality. 

COMMUNAL WORSHIP

Liturgy, or communal worship integrates both vertical and horizontal aspects to our faith. Both the temple (vertical axis) and the assembly (horizontal axis) are important scriptural images in symbolically representing the underlying realities of the Mass, yet tension over articulating this point through design has polarized architects and liturgical consultants for years. Both elements in the theology of Christian worship – the one, true, and perfect sacrifice in the holy of holies (the sanctuary proper), and the gathering and organization of Christ's mystical Body that participates in that sacrifice, are indispensable and are interwoven into our 2,000 year tradition. Not only is Christ's sacrifice participatory, but it is precisely in that participation that we are made more of what we are as baptized Christians: members equal in dignity but distinct in function, united in the Body of Christ. Each plays our part to act on behalf of Christ the head, according to St. Paul. The ordained priest acts in Christ's stead here on earth, guiding the Body in worship, which is a function that differs from the common priesthood bestowed upon and to be exercised by all lay faithful. To review, our faith reflects a vertical sacrificial dimension to God and a horizontal unifying dimension for humanity. As we assemble to celebrate the Mass, we physically mirror the Body of Christ, of which we are all members, and of which Christ himself is the head. It is through this process that we become more like God. A beautiful prayer typically prayed silently by the priest in preparing the gifts sums this up perfectly: By the mingling of his water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity. The goal of the liturgy is to become divinized, to become like God to share in the eternity of his divine life.  

“When physical beauty, representing grace, lends awe to our sense of the Mass, we are led to an awe of God as the giver of that grace.”

THE ROLE OF SACRAMENTALS

While the subtleties of the beautiful image of the mystical Body of Christ are often overlooked by the average Sunday Mass-goer, the effects of their presence (or absence) are no less powerful at a deeper level. Subconsciously, buildings are capable of underscoring or undermining the message of the actions performed within. Each of us has been formed by our environment and carry with us memories and impressions from actions tied to the place in which they happened. For millennia architecture has played a vital part in human culture, and our faith upholds this important role. Sacraments visibly show us an invisible reality: the work of God. Sacramentals aid the sacraments in doing this and show us something of how God does this work of salvation: statues, paintings, holy water, incense – these things all help our feeble human senses to grasp just a tiny bit more the immense mystery and superabundant gift that is God's grace and mercy. Just as with Fr. Martis' example of water, all of the things in a church that depict water reference these events and lend to the fullness of the symbol. When physical beauty, representing grace, lends awe to our sense of the Mass, we are led to an awe of God as the giver of that grace. How we experience the liturgy can determine how we experience God. In addition to this symbolic understanding, we also must understand the sacraments to be efficacious signs that actual bestow the grace they symbolize; we are being changed through our participation. A poorly designed church risks omitting one idea in favor of the other, lacking either the fullness and dimensions of the representative symbol or the spiritual reality it represents.  

Mosaic dome in the Baptistry of Neon, Ravenna, Italy. Photo by Jill and Ian.

“Buildings are capable of underscoring or undermining the message of the actions performed within.”

THE VIA MEDIA 

We properly understand the sacraments as both sign and reality; God's work that in turn bears fruit in us. This is one of the places where many Christians find themselves at odds, and for the Church, a wonderful example of the Catholic ‘Both/And’ that is key to thinking with the mind of the Church. Missing the crucial aspect of the Mass as a holy and perfect sacrifice by over-emphasizing its symbolic and communal nature is missing the sacramental nature of the Eucharist itself. A sacrament is always a sign that points us to something deeper. Too easily the supernatural reality of God's presence is reduced to a mere symbol of community if we do not treat it with appropriate reverence. Conversely, an over-emphasis of the sacrifice in which we take part, disconnected from the horizontal dimension of the active assembly, deprives those present of seeing the sacramental life fruitfully lived. It is the via media, the middle road, that the Church asks us to walk in prayerful consideration of the physical environments we create to house this sublime action of liturgy. A well designed church fully communicates the richness of the symbol and teaches about the reality that is symbolized – that Christ is truly present with angels and saints and the hosts of heaven, and through partaking of the eucharistic celebration, we become part of his Body, sharers of his divine life. By virtue of our baptism we are called to continue the missionary work of Christ and to take his presence out to the world. That is the vision the Church has for her architecture. 

End of Part 1. Read Architecture & The Mind of the Church – Part 2 here.

Continue Reading – Part 2

"Catholic Architecture & the Mind of the Church"

Liturgical Catechesis 101

by Michael Raia

Central mural in the triumphal arch above the apse of St. Paul the Apostle Catholic Church in Westerville, OH by EverGreene Architectural Arts. (photo by Meleca Architecture)

This post was originally published on December 15, 2015 at JacksonGalloway.com.

A handful of friends and colleagues have requested a very basic survey of concepts on Catholic worship and liturgical catechesis – that is, teaching on liturgy. I find the progression in the following outline very helpful when explaining what liturgy is and why it's important in the big picture of the Catholic faith, as well as how each of the details of what we see and do in worship relates to that belief. For a wonderful video clip series outlining these concepts in a slightly different format: Elements of the Catholic Mass. The majority of the content below can be found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), "Part Two: The Celebration of the Christian Mystery," in the General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM), and in  Sacrosanctum Concilium (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy) (SC). All of these writings are well worth the read.

WHAT IS WORSHIP

"Worship is the rendering to God what is owed God by intelligent beings" (Virgil Michel, OSB). Human beings are made for love and communion with God. "God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself, in a plan of sheer goodness freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life. For this reason, at every time and in every place, God draws close to man. He calls man to seek him, to know him, to love him with all his strength" (CCC 1). Because we know that the greatest act of love is a sacrifice – to lay down one's life (John 15:13) – in worship we offer a sacrifice of praise and give everything we have to God. Worship can be both public (liturgy) and private  (devotional, both individual and communal). Both are integral to a healthy and vibrant spiritual life.

WHAT IS LITURGY

Liturgy is public worship – the work of Christ and that of the Church, the Body of Christ. By virtue of our participation in Christ's work as members of the Body, we also participate in the divine life of the Trinity, an eternal exchange of love between the Father and Son that is the Holy Spirit. This action – liturgical participation – is our right and duty by baptism (SC 14). As with any sacrament, the action or "doing" is all God's, but as a good parent, he invites us to join in it, both as the worship for which we are made and for the sanctification of the world. Liturgy is an "action" of the whole Christ" (CCC 1136).  

PARTICIPATION IN THE DIVINE LIFE OF THE TRINITY

The Trinity is a constant dialogue of love between three distinct persons: Father, Son, and Spirit. Citing the Compendium to the CCC which draws on the writings of Augustine, Archbishop William Lori writes that "the living, eternal bond of love between the Father and Son is the Person of the Holy Spirit." Through the liturgy, we enter the Trinitarian dialogue by sharing in the Paschal mystery of Christ's suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension to the right hand of the Father. This is possible because of our being grafted onto Christ by means of his mystical Body. In turn, Christ presents his Body (of which we are a part) to the Father in sacrifice on our behalf. It is through sharing in Christ's sacrifice to the Father that we participate in the divine life of the Trinity. God's intention for us is that we become divinized – namely, that we participate in the divine life of God and in so doing are made holy like him: "By the mystery of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity" (Roman Missal).

THE MYSTERY OF FAITH

What exactly is the mystery? During the Mass, we profess what we call the Mystery of Faith. In three different forms, we describe the saving action of God through our participation in Christ's sacrifice on the cross, made present in the eucharistic meal. This is our memorial, our observance of his command, and also our making present of the events that followed his last supper. The Holy Spirit makes Christ's one true sacrifice of Calvary present at every liturgy. Christ is the head – represented in the priest– we are body, and we always present our worship to the Father. TO the Father, IN the Son, THROUGH the Holy Spirit. This is the proper orientation of our liturgical prayer and action. 

HOW TO PARTICIPATE 

PRAY the Mass. Be mindful that every action is part of worship. Sing along when appropriate, listen attentively to the readings and homily (if not read and prepare before Mass), pray along earnestly with the prayers, maintain an engaged and reverent posture. Particularly during the Sorsum Corda ("lift up your hearts") and the Doxology ("through him, with him, in him"), these are crucial moments the faithful are being invited to join our individual and collective sacrifices to that of Christ to present perfectly to the Father. While the eucharist is indeed a heavenly banquet that is a foretaste of the eternal banquet, it is first and foremost Christ's sacrifice and in turn, that of his Body the Church. Our ritual observance of this sacrifice as a Church demands our attention and participation as individual baptized members of the Body. 

GRACE

While we are all members of the Body of Christ in the liturgy, the extent to which we are conformed to his image – the extent to which the liturgy transforms us – depends on our choice to engage and cooperate with God's grace or tune out. The same power of the Holy Spirit that is responsible for the mystery of each Sacrament – in the Eucharist it is the presence of Christ in the Eucharist and this sacrifice being offered eternally to the Father on our behalf – is the power we are given when we participate in and receive the sacraments that gives us grace in our lives. The post-communion prayer explains the expected fruit of the mystery that is celebrated (GIRM 89). When we pray the Mass, we cooperate with God's grace, which in turn has an effect on us. 

CONVERSION

The effects of grace from the liturgy bring about conversion. Benedict XVI in Sacramentum Caritas explains that authentic liturgical participation presumes conversion from sin. This is why the Church asks of her faithful that they be absolved of mortal sin prior to approaching the altar. The conversion to know the Christ we seek in the breaking of the bread is the transformation that is required for the liturgy to be effective in our lives. Without appreciating the mystery of our sharing in Christ's sacrifice through the liturgy, it is very difficult to expect fruit to come from our participation. We are called to constant conversion. If we are not getting anything out of Mass, this might be why – preparation is crucial. First be reconciled... (SC 55) The goal is for the liturgy to give life to the Christian mission. 

MISSION

"In the New Testament the word 'liturgy' refers not only to the celebration of divine worship but also to the proclamation of the Gospel and to active charity" (CCC 1069). In fact, the liturgy demands justice. The natural action at the close of the liturgy is directed outward towards the service to which we are called by our baptism (ite missa est) - GO FORTH!  The liturgy is missionary in purpose; in addition to glorifying God, it also sanctifies men and calls them to their creator.  Therefore liturgy is inseparable from social justice – our baptismal responsibility to love one another and serve those in need as Christ commanded. The Eucharist is food for our journey. The closing words "Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life" tell us that we are to take Christ's love to the world; to be his hands and feet, serving those in need. We can most effectively serve others like Christ if we take on his appearance.  

SYMBOLISM

Music, art, and architecture are entryways into the divine. They bring the faith to life and communicate in a way that is deeper and more tangible than concept alone. If we want to more fully participate in the liturgy, we need to be formed in the symbolic and mystical language of the Church. Not only in the prayers and actions of the liturgy, but in the liturgical arts, we see the beauty of the Mass revealed, which leads us into the mystery, into worship. The goal is to PRAY the Mass, but to do so we must be taught the language of mystagogy: the "signs and symbols of invisible (heavenly) realities" (SC 122). These things point to what is happening in the liturgy so that we may understand and participate.

As a result, the liturgy deserves the best that we can realistically provide (or do) with what we have been given. The offering of our gifts and talents to surround the liturgy with beauty and adorn it with layers of meaning is an ancient and praiseworthy practice. However, the Church is clear that how this takes place is a matter that deserves great attention and effort, and will vary between cultures and times. However, this idea is not in conflict with nor diminishes the Christian responsibility to serve.