This was the first year in a while that I did not attend the annual Summorum Pontificum Conference in Rome. My memory of last year’s conference--the laity held up in the lines to get through security, the singing of one of the minor Hours of the liturgical day at the Confessio instead of a Mass that had been forbidden, the feeling of being treated like strangers in a place that is near the very heart of the Church--all this contributed to my decision to stay home. And this in spite of the remarkable papal decision to allow Cardinal Burke, whom I love as a friend, to celebrate Pontifical Mass in the Traditional Roman Rite at the altar of the Throne. And this in spite of Cardinal Zuppi’s celebration of Solemn Vespers at San Lorenzo in Lucina on Friday evening.
But I could not shake the sadness, sadness not anger, for I have learned that sadness in the face of injustice and stupidity is more Christ-like than anger. My sadness was deepened recently by the actions of two foolish American bishops that essentially exterminated the presence of the Traditional Roman Mass in their dioceses. How they did this was not father-like. It was condescending, cruel and evidence of liturgical ignorance on their part.
As the former pastor of one of the parishes in the Northeast where the Traditional Roman Mass lies at the very heart of its priests and people-- with no prejudice against the Novus Ordo Mass-- the action of those two bishops made me taste, albeit to an infinitesimally small degree, our Lord’s agony in the garden.
I stayed home, but what I experienced at “home” this past weekend was in its own way a confirmation of my decision to stay home. I have written before about the parish in my diocese that is not in good physical shape and is located almost literally on the train tracks in a not nice part of a decaying city. I described before what I still believe was a miracle when the New Haven bound train stopped on the tracks opposite the church during an outdoor Eucharistic procession. The pastor of the parish kindly invited me to the festivities in honor of the great feast of Christ the King on its traditional day of the last Sunday in October, now just two days ago. And it was there, at the Solemn Mass in the morning and Solemn Vespers in the evening followed by a parish festive meal, that I connected in a deep way with what was going on in Rome. For what connected them both was the Catholic understanding that the Liturgy is and must be a source of that Beauty that has saved the world.
What impressed me so much was the great care that went into the Mass and Vespers. The decoration of the high altar, the special candelabra, the decoration of one of the side altars with a large statue of Christ the King dressed in red vestments, the beauty of the chant and Mass setting with full choir, the reverence and knowledge of the young servers, the final procession through the church-- not St Peter’s--, but yet joined to what went on at St Peter’s by the great liturgical Tradition of the Catholic Church. Solemn Vespers in Rome could not have been more beautiful and spiritual than Solemn Vespers in Bridgeport. The chanting of the psalms by the choir is the heart of the service. Each psalm was chanted with plainsong alternating with polyphony composed by the choirmaster using sources like Palestrina, Victoria and Tallis. The ceremony surrounding the Magnificat was done with that precision that comes from love of what one is doing. The thurifer was mesmerizing in his grace amidst the complexity of the censing of the clergy, severs and congregation. It was as if time were suspended until the Gloria Patri was sung. All of this is a reminder of the radical importance of the details that make up the sacred painting that is the Liturgy.
It is important to note that three of the young priests of my diocese were part of this celebration of Christ the King, one as the Deacon at the Solemn Mass, two at Solemn Vespers. It is they who will pass on the Beauty of the Liturgy. now as best they can in the Novus Ordo rite. They are the priestly future of the Church, and I am thankful and as optimistic as I can be about the future even with my southern Italian blood that is suspicious of optimism in any form. But, like St. John Henry Newman, my deep hope is in the laity, who allow themselves to be surprised by the beauty of the Mass when it is celebrated as the icon of Beauty whose name is Jesus Christ.
