Prepare to be astonished.
Last week, I shared how Desiderio Desideravi, an Apostolic Letter from the Holy Father Francis on the Liturgical Formation of the People of God, took me back to my time studying liturgy in seminary. There is still food for thought in this letter from our Holy Father, and honestly it is fun to be taken back to those days when we were all setting our sights on doing liturgy well. In this class, Pope Francis is the professor. He is teaching themes and theories, over-arching categories and goals. He can shrink an amazing amount of material and action into a very little space:
Let us be clear here: every aspect of the celebration must be carefully tended to (space, time, gestures, words, objects, vestments, song, music…) and every rubric must be observed. Such attention would be enough to prevent robbing from the assembly what is owed to it; namely, the paschal mystery celebrated according to the ritual that the Church sets down. But even if the quality and the proper action of the celebration were guaranteed, that would not be enough to make our participation full.
He is not kidding that every one of those elements “must be carefully tended to.” Go back and re-read my letter after Easter listing all the work, and all the workers, who did the “tending” necessary to make Holy Week happen. That, however, is only one of his twenty-six “musts” that he proposes as absolute necessities. My very favorite of his indispensable requirements, however, is astonishment.
Amazement before the Paschal Mystery: an essential part of the liturgical act. If there were lacking our astonishment at the fact that the paschal mystery is rendered present in the concreteness of sacramental signs, we would truly risk being impermeable to the ocean of grace that floods every celebration. Efforts to favor a greater quality to the celebration, even if praiseworthy, are not enough; nor is the call for a greater interiority. (underlining mine)
Now, of all the things I have worked to provide in the liturgies for which I have been responsible, I do not think I ever arranged for, secured, or guaranteed astonishment. If that is essential, and without it we are impermeable to grace(!), then I am going to have to find a supplier.
But upon reflection, I have never lacked for astonishment, myself. My “supplier” is the One who always over-delivers. The least flicker of attentiveness on my part to the mystery that I handle does, in fact, call forth awe. To lift up bread and bring down God, even as a quotidian act, is the opposite of mundane.
My astonishment is not confined to the elements and the action. I am astonished at the response to the mystery unfolding that I witness when the witnesses think they are watching me. I am astonished at the effects of the Paschal Mystery that are manifest in lives, some that are uninterested, some even unwilling. I am astonished at the fidelity of our older brothers and sisters who have to work so hard to bring their uncooperative bodies to be in union with us in the Body of Christ. I am astonished at the grace of parents who bring their families, also occasionally uncooperative, with nonchalant but never effortless regularity to this place where time and eternity meet. I am astonished at the matter-of-factness with which so many busy, modern people leave at the door their customary disposition of suspicion and open themselves unaffectedly before the timeless working out of salvation in our midst. I am also astonished, you see, by you.
When I studied liturgy in preparation for the priesthood, it was the nineties. Most of my class agreed that the post-conciliar liturgy, which was then about twenty-five years old and the only liturgy we had ever known, could be done well, but generally had not. A few years after my class was ordained, the Holy See published a new edition of the Roman Missal, with improved and clarified General Instructions that left less room for foolishness and abuse. Ten years after that, a new translation into English of that Missal was published, bringing to us Anglophones a more accurate rendition of the sacred language that constitutes our worship. These were improvements of which we dreamed, when we were dreaming of doing liturgy well.
Even in the relatively-brief twenty-four years of my priesthood, these major changes, along with some others, have made it possible for us to enjoy, expect, and effect better liturgies. There is no reason not to hope for a few more such changes that will make possible even greater improvement. I like to nurture that hope, even while I continue the work set before me. Meanwhile, I am grateful that the Holy Father was able to take me back, if just for a time.