Praxiteles
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- March 18, 2009 at 7:10 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772608
Praxiteles
ParticipantThe return to Lent after the St. Patrick’s Day relief:
Gregorio Allegri’s setting of Psalm 50 done for the Sixtine Chapel c. 1635.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLUafMBLtzo&feature=related
Sixto/Clementine Vulgate edition
Psalm 50
50 1 In finem. Psalmus David, 2 cum venit ad eum Nathan propheta, quando intravit ad Bethsabee.
3 Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam ;
et secundum multitudinem miserationum tuarum, dele iniquitatem meam.
4 Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea,
et a peccato meo munda me.
5 Quoniam iniquitatem meam ego cognosco,
et peccatum meum contra me est semper.
6 Tibi soli peccavi, et malum coram te feci ;
ut justificeris in sermonibus tuis,
et vincas cum judicaris.
7 Ecce enim in iniquitatibus conceptus sum,
et in peccatis concepit me mater mea.
8 Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti ;
incerta et occulta sapientiæ tuæ manifestasti mihi.
9 Asperges me hyssopo, et mundabor ;
lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
10 Auditui meo dabis gaudium et lætitiam,
et exsultabunt ossa humiliata.
11 Averte faciem tuam a peccatis meis,
et omnes iniquitates meas dele.
12 Cor mundum crea in me, Deus,
et spiritum rectum innova in visceribus meis.
13 Ne projicias me a facie tua,
et spiritum sanctum tuum ne auferas a me.
14 Redde mihi lætitiam salutaris tui,
et spiritu principali confirma me.
15 Docebo iniquos vias tuas,
et impii ad te convertentur.
16 Libera me de sanguinibus, Deus, Deus salutis meæ,
et exsultabit lingua mea justitiam tuam.
17 Domine, labia mea aperies,
et os meum annuntiabit laudem tuam.
18 Quoniam si voluisses sacrificium, dedissem utique ;
holocaustis non delectaberis.
19 Sacrificium Deo spiritus contribulatus ;
cor contritum et humiliatum, Deus, non despicies.
20 Benigne fac, Domine, in bona voluntate tua Sion,
ut ædificentur muri Jerusalem.
21 Tunc acceptabis sacrificium justitiæ, oblationes et holocausta ;
tunc imponent super altare tuum vitulos.Bishop Challoner’s revision of the Rheins Douay of 1742
Psalms Chapter 50
Miserere.
The repentance and confession of David after his sin. The fourth penitential psalm.
50:1. Unto the end, a psalm of David,
50:2. When Nathan the prophet came to him, after he had sinned with Bethsabee. [2 Kings 12.]
50:3. Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy great mercy. And according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my iniquity.
50:4. Wash me yet more from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
50:5. For I know my iniquity, and my sin is always before me.
50:6. To thee only have I sinned, and have done evil before thee: that thou mayst be justified in thy words, and mayst overcome when thou art judged.
50:7. For behold I was conceived in iniquities; and in sins did my mother conceive me.
50:8. For behold thou hast loved truth: the uncertain and hidden things of thy wisdom thou hast made manifest to me.
50:9. Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed: thou shalt wash me, and I shall be made whiter than snow.
50:10. To my hearing thou shalt give joy and gladness: and the bones that have been humbled shall rejoice.
50:11. Turn away thy face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.
50:12. Create a clean heart in me, O God: and renew a right spirit within my bowels.
50:13. Cast me not away from thy face; and take not thy holy spirit from me.
50:14. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and strengthen me with a perfect spirit.
50:15. I will teach the unjust thy ways: and the wicked shall be converted to thee.
50:16. Deliver me from blood, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall extol thy justice.
50:17. O Lord, thou wilt open my lips: and my mouth shall declare thy praise.
50:18. For if thou hadst desired sacrifice, I would indeed have given it: with burnt offerings thou wilt not be delighted.
50:19. A sacrifice to God is an afflicted spirit: a contrite and humbled heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
50:20. Deal favourably, O Lord, in thy good will with Sion; that the walls of Jerusalem may be built up.
50:21. Then shalt thou accept the sacrifice of justice, oblations and whole burnt offerings: then shall they lay calves upon thy altar.
March 17, 2009 at 11:12 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772606Praxiteles
ParticipantThe Fras gave it to Mary Immaculate College the extent of whose wit for the use of the church appears not to have gone beyond turning it into a library repository – and all of this bankrolled, we are led to understand, on a “Catholic” basis by John Ganley of Libertas ! I should have thought that an institution like Mary I would have had the social consciousness to keep the church functioning as a church – afterall, I do not think that the University of Limerick has a College Chapel of any significant dimension. But , no, it had to be library.
March 17, 2009 at 11:00 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772604Praxiteles
ParticipantThe chapel of the Palazzo Massimo in Rome.
The palace was designed by Baldassarre Peruzzi in 1532-1536 on a site of three contiguous palaces owned by the old Roman Massimo family; built after arson of an earlier structure during the Sack of Rome (1527). In addition the curved façade was dictated by foundations built upon the stands for the stadium (odeon) of the emperor Domitian.
The entrance is characterized by a central portico with the six Doric columns. Inside there are two courtyards, of which the first one has a portico with Doric columns as a basement for a rich loggia, which is also made of Doric columns. The column decorations gave name to the palace (alle Colonne). The façade is renown as one of the most masterful of its time, combining both elegance with stern rustication. The reccessed entrance portico differs from typical Palazzo models such as exemplified by the Florentine Palazzo Medici. In addition, there is a variation of size of windows for different levels, and the decorative frames of the windows of the third floor. Unlike the Palazzo Medici, there is no academic adherence to orders, depending on the floor On the opposite side of this palace, opening on to the Piazzetta dei Massimo, the palace connects with a frescoed façade of Palazzetto Massimi (or Istoriato). For many centuries, this used to be the central post office, a Massimo family occupation. To the left of the palace is the Palazzo di Pirro, built by a pupil of Antonio da Sangallo.
The interior ceilings and vestibules are elaborately ornamented with rosettes and coffered roofs. The entrance ceiling is decorated with a fresco by Daniele da Volterra, who represented “Life of Fabio Massimo”, the supposed classic founder of the Massimo family.
The chapel on the 2nd floor was a room where the 14 year old Paolo Massimo, son of Fabrizio Massimo, was recalled briefly to life by Saint Philip Neri in March 16, 1583. The interior of the palace is open to public only on that day. Other notable events in the palace of the 16th century including various intrafamilial murders.
March 17, 2009 at 10:35 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772603Praxiteles
ParticipantThe reason for insisting on the demolition of churches is that this is the canonical means by which a church loses its sacred character. The removal of the walls is the same as the removal of its consecration. See Pietro Gasparri’s de Sanctissima Eucharistia published in Paris in 1897 on this subject.
Praxiteles regards this policy as excessive and short sighted. What may be a depopulated part of a city not requiring a church to-day, may well be tomorrow’s fashionable icon of urban regeneration requiring a church or worse left without one.
Indeed, the various conservation conventions stress the importance of the use and function for which a building was built. In teh case of churches, where one religious order, for exmple the Franciscans or Jesuits in Limerick, no longer require a church, then they should seek to give it to one of the more flourishing younger religious orders – in Limerick, one could think of the Friars of the Atonement, for example, who up to recently had no chapel.
March 17, 2009 at 8:09 am in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772600Praxiteles
ParticipantAnd some more from Roger Scruton in the London Times of 14 March 2009:
From The TimesMarch 14, 2009
Beauty by Roger Scruton
Kitsch is worse for us than porn or gratuitous violence, argues the philosopher and writer Roger Scruton. And what offers a path out of the desolation? BeautyIn an age of declining faith art bears enduring witness to the spiritual hunger and immortal longings of our species. Hence aesthetic education matters more today than at any previous period in history. As Wagner expressed the point: “It is reserved to art to salvage the kernel of religion, inasmuch as the mythical images which religion would wish to be believed as true are apprehended in art for their symbolic value, and through ideal representation of those symbols art reveals the concealed deep truth within them.†Even for the unbeliever, therefore, the “real presence†of the sacred is now one of the highest gifts of art.
Conversely the degradation of art has never been more apparent. And the most widespread form of degradation – more widespread even than the deliberate desecration of humanity through pornography and gratuitous violence – is kitsch, that peculiar disease that we can instantly recognise but never precisely define, and whose Austro-German name links it to the mass movements and crowd sentiments of the 20th century.
In his article “Avant-garde and Kitschâ€, published in Partisan Review in 1939, Clement Greenberg presented educated Americans with a dilemma. Figurative painting, he argued, was dead – it had exhausted its expressive potential, and its representational aims had been bequeathed to photography and the cinema. Any attempt to continue in the figurative tradition would inevitably lead to kitsch, in other words to art with no message of its own, in which all the effects were copied and all the emotions faked. Genuine art must belong to the avant-garde, breaking with the figurative tradition in favour of “abstract expressionismâ€, which uses form and colour to liberate emotion from the prison of narrative. In this way Greenberg promoted the paintings of de Kooning, Pollock and Rothko, while condemning the great Edward Hopper as “shabby, second-hand and impersonalâ€.
Look back at figurative art in the Western tradition and you will observe that, prior to the 18th century, there was primitive art, naive art, routine and decorative art, but no kitsch. Just when the phenomenon first appeared is disputable: maybe Greuze shows traces of it; maybe it had even been foreshadowed in Murillo. What is certain is that, by the time of Millet and the Pre-Raphaelites, kitsch was in the driving seat. At the same time fear of kitsch had become a major artistic motive, prompting the impressionist and cubist revolutions as well as the birth of atonality in music.
It is not only in the world of art that we observe the steady advance of kitsch. Far more important, given its influence on the popular psyche, has been the kitschification of religion. Images are of enormous importance in religion, helping us to understand the Creator through idealised visions of his world: concrete images of transcendental truths. In the blue robe of a Bellini virgin we encounter the ideal of motherhood, as an enfolding purity and a promise of peace. This is not kitsch but the deepest spiritual truth, and one that we are helped to understand through the power and eloquence of the image. However, as the puritans have always reminded us, such an image stands on the verge of idolatry, and with the slightest push can fall from its spiritual eminence into the sentimental abyss. That happened everywhere in the 19th century, as the mass-produced votive figures flooded ordinary households, the holy precursors of today’s garden gnomes.
Kitsch is a mould that settles over the entire works of a living culture, when people prefer the sensuous trappings of belief to the thing truly believed in. It is not only Christian civilisation that has undergone kitschification in recent times. Equally evident has been the kitschification of Hinduism and its culture. Massproduced Ganeshas have knocked the subtle temple sculpture from its aesthetic pedestal; in bunjee music the talas of Indian classical music are blown apart by tonal harmonies and rhythm machines; in literature the sutras and puranas have been detached from the sublime vision of Brahman and reissued as childish comic-strips.
Simply put, kitsch is a disease of faith. Kitsch begins in doctrine and ideology and spreads from there to infect the entire world of culture. The Disneyfication of art is simply one aspect of the Disneyfication of faith -and both involve a profanation of our highest values. Kitsch, the case of Disney reminds us, is not an excess of feeling but a deficiency. The world of kitsch is in a certain measure a heartless world, in which emotion is directed away from its proper target towards sugary stereotypes, permitting us to pay passing tribute to love and sorrow without the trouble of feeling them. It is no accident that the arrival of kitsch on the stage of history coincided with the hitherto unimaginable horrors of trench warfare, of the Holocaust and the Gulag – all of them fulfilling the prophecy that kitsch proclaims, which is the transformation of the human being into a doll, which in one moment we cover with kisses, and in the next tear to shreds.
Those thoughts return us to my earlier argument. We can see the modernist revolution in the arts in Greenberg’s terms: art rebels against the old conventions, just as soon as they become colonised by kitsch. For art cannot live in the world of kitsch, which is a world of commodities to be consumed, rather than icons to be revered. True art is an appeal to our higher nature, an attempt to affirm that other kingdom in which moral and spiritual order prevails. Others exist in this realm not as compliant dolls but as spiritual beings, whose claims on us are endless and unavoidable. For us who live in the aftermath of the kitsch epidemic, therefore, art has acquired a new importance. It is the real presence of our spiritual ideals. That is why art matters. Without the conscious pursuit of beauty we risk falling into a world of addictive pleasures and routine desecration, a world in which the worthwhileness of human life is no longer clearly perceivable.
The paradox, however, is that the relentless pursuit of artistic innovation leads to a cult of nihilism. The attempt to defend beauty from pre-modernist kitsch has exposed it to postmodernist desecration. We seem to be caught between two forms of sacrilege, the one dealing in sugary dreams, the other in savage fantasies. Both are forms of falsehood, ways of reducing and demeaning our humanity. Both involve a retreat from the higher life, and a rejection of its principal sign, which is beauty. But both point to the real difficulty, in modern conditions, of leading a life in which beauty has a central place.
Kitsch deprives feeling of its cost, and therefore of its reality; desecration augments the cost of feeling, and so frightens us away from it. The remedy for both states of mind is suggested by the thing that they each deny, which is sacrifice. Konstanze and Belmonte in Mozart’s opera are ready to sacrifice themselves for each other, and this readiness is the proof of their love: all the beauties of the opera arise from the constant presentation of this proof. The deaths that occur in real tragedies are bearable to us because we see them under the aspect of sacrifice. The tragic hero is both self-sacrificed and a sacrificial victim; and the awe that we feel at his death is in some way redemptive, a proof that his life was worthwhile. Love and affection between people is real only to the extent that it prepares the way for sacrifice – whether the petits soins that bind Marcel to Saint Loup, or the proof offered by Alcestis, who dies for her husband. Sacrifice is the core of virtue, the origin of meaning and the true theme of high art.
Sacrifice can be avoided, and kitsch is the great lie that we can both avoid it and retain its comforts. Sacrifice can also be made meaningless by desecration. But, when sacrifice is present and respected, life redeems itself; it becomes an object of contemplation, something that “bears looking atâ€, and which attracts our admiration and our love. This connection between sacrifice and love is presented in the rituals and stories of religion. It is also the recurring theme of art. When, in the carnage of the Great War, poets tried to make sense of the destruction that lay all around, it was in full consciousness that kitsch merely compounded the fault. Their effort was not to deny the horror, but to find a way of seeing it in sacrificial terms. From this effort were born the war poems of Wilfred Owen and, later, the War Requiem of Benjamin Britten.
So there, if we can find our way to it, is the remedy. It is a remedy that cannot be achieved through art alone. In the words of Rilke’s Archaic Torso of Apollo: “you must change your lifeâ€. Beauty is vanishing from our world because we live as though it did not matter; and we live that way because we have lost the habit of sacrifice and are striving always to avoid it. The false art of our time, mired in kitsch and desecration, is one sign of this.
To point to this feature of our condition is not to issue an invitation to despair. It is one mark of rational beings that they do not live only – or even at all – in the present. They have the freedom to despise the world that surrounds them and to live in another way. The art, literature and music of our civilisation remind them of this, and also point to the path that lies always before them: the path out of desecration towards the sacred and the sacrificial. And that, in a nutshell, is what beauty teaches us.
© Roger Scruton 2009. Extracted from Beauty, published by Oxford University Press on March 26 at £10.99. To buy it for £9.49 inc p&p call 0845 2712134 or visit timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst . Scruton will debate whether “Britain has become indifferent to beautyâ€, at the Royal Geographical Society, London, on March 19 (020-7494 3345
March 17, 2009 at 7:58 am in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772599Praxiteles
ParticipantThe contemporary aesthetics’ Problem as seen by the British philosopher Roger Scruton in yesterday’s London Times:
From The TimesMarch 16, 2009
What has art got to do with beauty these days?
We need to live in a world that welcomes us, not one where art invites cynicism and an ugly environment doesn’t matterRoger Scruton
When the study of beauty first attracted the attention of modern philosophers, it was at the beginning of the 18th century and during the height of the scientific revolution. For philosophers of the Enlightenment nature was not the plaything of an unknowable God, but an open book, whose meaning can be clearly read by science. Nature had been demystified, to become the home of mankind, and it is thus that the great 18th-century painters portrayed it. Art could be beautiful, as nature was beautiful. But it was beautiful because it imitated nature, which was the source of beauty in all its forms.The Romantic movement emphasised the creative artist rather than the natural world as the origin of beauty. According to the Romantics, it was by encountering ideas and feelings crystallised in works of art that we could obtain the oneness with the scheme of things which the Enlightenment philosophers had looked for in the works of nature. The self-expression of the artist was endowed with the authority of revelation. Originality rather than convention became the criterion of artistic success, and the individual transgression attained a value as great as any obedience to social norms.
In our time this Romantic conception of the artist has been taken to such extremes that we no longer know whether art and beauty have much to do with one another. It is not just that arbitrary objects (Brillo boxes, pickled sharks, piles of bricks) are now regularly presented as artworks. Among the artworks that we are called upon to admire are acts of desecration, such as Andres Serrano’s crucifix in urine and Tracey Emin’s unmade bed, or gestures of violence against art itself, such as the sarcastic postmodernist productions of the romantic operas.
And because critics made fools of themselves in the mid-19th century, by preferring the salon art of Bouguereau to the innovative visions of Manet, few critics today will venture an adverse judgment of anything that presents itself as an original gesture, however offensive or banal. Hence the continuing scandal of the Turner Prize – which is not a scandal at all, since nobody in a position to say so has pointed out that the Emperor has no clothes.
Many people conclude that art is not what it was once cracked up to be, that it is not about the beautiful, the sublime and the transcendent, but that it is a skill like any other and that the greatest part of the skill is self-advertisement. Find a way of drawing attention to yourself, whether with words or images or noises; get the right connections, the right agent and the right kind of subsidy, and you too can be an artist. Of course, talent is important. But it is a talent for attracting attention, rather than for seeking and finding the eye of God. Just look at what Christo achieved, simply by wrapping buildings, and even sections of the Australian coastline, in plastic sheets! It took talent of a quite special kind to get someone else to pay for such a prank, and then to be paid again for doing it.
Today people are a little more cynical than they were when such nonsense began. But this is not because they have lost the interest in beauty or the need to encounter it in their daily lives. They have lost faith in art as a way of supplying that need. This loss is a painful one, for the reason that it is difficult now to return to the 18th-century love of nature in order to enjoy what was promised by art, namely redemption from the trivial and a face-to-face encounter with the truth. Nature, too, is not what it was once cracked up to be. It has lost its former status as the open book in which we could read ourselves.
The nature poets of the 18th and 19th centuries could walk the country lanes of England and see only the smiling face of an ordered world, whose laws were known and whose aspect was in harmony with the human bid for a more than worldly significance. Those conflicts that they sensed in themselves – between freedom and causality, between sacred and profane, between exultation and ordinariness – they found resolved in nature, where, as Wordsworth put it: “Our souls have sight of that immortal sea/ Which brought us hither.â€
I don’t think that we can look on nature now in quite that way. It is not just that the country lanes of England display more food wrappers and plastic bottles than wildflowers, though this is a significant fact. It is that nature no longer has a face. As science and technology have advanced, the face has been scraped away, to reveal the bare structure – the cosmic skeleton – beneath it. Even the most devoted hikers and ramblers know that the smiles they receive from the landscape have their origin in themselves, and that the smiles are ever fainter, as the “eye of the beholder†becomes clouded by cynicism and science. Of course, we are still sensitive to natural beauty. But it appears before us as a fragile and threatened thing, and not as the great immovable fact that once it was.
Yet the need for beauty remains. We see this in all the areas where people make choices concerning the way things look, or feel or sound. As soon as appearances are chosen not just for their agreeableness but also for their meaning we enter the realm of aesthetic judgement, as this was understood by the Enlightenment. That is why there is even today an “aesthetics of everyday lifeâ€.
People may have given up on art, and they may be sceptical towards natural beauty. But they still design their own lives, searching for agreement and for a shared sense of what matters and why.
This search for aesthetic order is not just a luxury; it is essential to life in society. It is one way in which we send out signals of humility, and show that we are not just animals foraging for our needs but civilised beings who wish to live at peace with our neighbours. That is why we adopt dress codes; it is why we are guided by taste in our language, in our gestures and in our ways of looking at other people and inviting them into our lives.
That is also why the current battles over architecture and public space are so important. They are not battles about economics or administrative convenience. They are about beauty: in other words, about the creation of meaningful appearances. We need to live in a world that welcomes us, as nature welcomed Wordsworth and John Clare. The habit of desecration that we have witnessed in the world of art has also afflicted the built environment, with the facetious projects of the “starchitects†– I think of Rogers, Libeskind, Foster and Koolhaas – designed not for the city but against it.
Beauty is not popular among professional architects, just as the pursuit of beauty is not popular among visual artists: it suggests costly sacrifices, and a scaling down of pretentions for the sake of people whom they don’t need to know. But the controversy over modern architecture remains real and important: for it reflects the need of ordinary people that appearances be respected, so that the place where they find themselves can also be shared as a home.
It is, to my way of thinking, the most vivid proof we have that beauty still matters.
© Roger Scruton 2009. Beauty will be published by Oxford University Press on March 26 at £10.99. To buy it for £9.49 inc p&p call 0845 2712134 or visit timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst
March 16, 2009 at 8:13 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772598Praxiteles
ParticipantFor anyone interested in late Classical and Byzantine mosaics in Italy, the following site is most informative:
March 15, 2009 at 11:08 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772597Praxiteles
ParticipantAnthony Charnley’s prospect of Cork City published in Smith’s History of Cork in 1750. It shows all of the medieval churches in the old city. Many of them had been rebuilt in the elegant “Italian” or Paladian idiom following the destruction caused by the bombardment of Cork during th Williamite siege of 1690. With the exception of Cork Cathedral (which was rebuilt in the 19th century) and of St. Mary’s, Shandon, all of them have passed out of ecclesiastical use and are deployed to less than savoury purpose. Indeed, it would be useful to know what Cork Corporation is doing with Christ Church, or what the recent commercial development around St. Paul’s has done to its interior, and whether or not the sepulchral monuments have been restored to the internal walls of St. Peter’s (having been gauged out and dumped at the back door of the church).
March 15, 2009 at 4:57 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772596Praxiteles
ParticipantThis appaered in todays Sunday Independent. Unfortunately, the same more reflective appraoch to planning and development has not yet reached Cork County Council or Cobh Urban District Council and most certainly has dawned on the Heritage Unit of the Cork County Council, especilly in its approach to Cobh cathedral. The same old procedures are applied again, the same fascist attempts to keep the public (especially the interested public) out of the planning process, and the same justification of works on historic buildings based on the assessments of Council employees who, let’s face it, would not be likely professionally to survive in the open market context.
At least recession has made us think about proper planning
With construction slowing, maybe now we will think twice before scarring our landscape with more architectural eyesores, writes Eamon Delaney
Sunday March 15 2009
NOT everything about the recession is bad — one immediate good effect is on planning and architecture. Some terrible eyesores went up in the last decade, buildings erected with little care for design or the environment.
The fact that everything has slowed down is surely a good thing, for at least now we’ve a chance to properly look at the plans.
Already postponements have been made which can only be described as positive, and others have almost certainly been put on ice. Meanwhile, the rampant ‘bungalow blitz’ around the country which was ruining the landscape has also slowed.
Getting ‘maximum space’ was the key thing during the boom: building as far out on the pavement as possible, endangering pedestrians and giving no sense of space or perspective to the actual buildings. And, of course, less art was commissioned.
While some landmark buildings did go up, there were also shocking eyesores, such as the awful glass box and sterile plaza at the end of Dame Street, next to Dublin’s classic City Hall. It is completely out of scale and character with the street and with Dublin Castle behind it, and yet the authorities got away with it, because it is a city council building and so immune to the planning laws!
Thankfully, with the downturn, this sort of building, which everyone was too busy to question, has stopped and the cranes have stalled on the big important sites, just as the cement mixers stand idle next to half-finished Dallas-style houses all around the countryside.
Now that the money has run out maybe we’ll have a chance to think a bit more about proper planning in the future.
Other monstrosities put on ice recently include:
• The proposals for the old Dun Laoghaire Baths site caused major local controversy, and led to the subsequent rise of independent candidate Richard Boyd-Barrett.
The plan was for a high rise, private development with a hotel attached and was totally inappropriate to the shoreline.
• The plan for the Carlton cinema on O’Connell Street is technically active. It envisages ‘opening up’ the street and blowing a hole in the Victorian frontage worse than any damage done by the 1916 Rising. In an area already saturated with declining retail, yet another shopping centre is planned, but this time with a garden on its roof!
Anyway, as many have pointed out, the old Carlton site should rightly be the place for the new Abbey Theatre, rather than sending it off to the docklands.
• The Bank of Ireland HQ plan was a particularly shocking proposal as it involved an institution wrecking their own already acclaimed building.
Unveiled back in 1972, the Bank of Ireland’s distinctive black bronze headquarters on Baggot Street is rightly lauded as a landmark piece of Miesian modernism, with three separate blocks and big abstract sculptures in the spaces in between.
But the philistine bank planned to roof over the open spaces and put glass cladding around the bronze — ostensibly for ‘environmental reasons’, ie to get more space and value for money.
The poet Seamus Heaney was among those who spoke out against the barbarous changes, which have now been put on hold.
Given the current banking crisis, hopefully this will stay the case.March 14, 2009 at 11:49 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772595Praxiteles
ParticipantAnd some commentary:
Benedict’s Vatican II Hermeneutic
By Edward T. Oakes, S.J.Friday, March 13, 2009, 12:00 AM
A March 10 letter to Catholic bishops from Benedict XVI explains why he decided to seek reconciliation with the schismatic Society of St. Pius X. The Vatican lifted the excommunication of four bishops illicitly ordained by Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre in 1988. The letter reveals the pain the pope felt at the controversy unleashed when it was quickly learned, one of the men (for most of his life among the Lefebvrists, it seems) was (among other cretinous opinions) a denier of the Holocaust.Benedict’s pain shows throughout the entire letter, but especially here: “It has saddened me that even Catholics, who should in fact know better, have seen fit to strike at me with a ready-to-pounce hostility.†Nevertheless, Benedict finds comfort among his “Jewish friends who have quickly helped to clear away misunderstandings and restore the atmosphere of friendship and trust that had prevailed during the pontificate of John Paul II and, God be thanked, continues to prevail in mine.â€
The real pain, though, is the fact of schism, and not so much Benedict’s own hurt feelings, which come out only in that one sentence. But like St. Paul’s epistle to the Galatians (which the pope quotes at the end of his own missive), this letter bleeds. Divisions in the Church hurt this pope, as they did Paul in his day. No surprise, then, that Benedict would conclude this personal account of his Petrine ministry to his fellow bishops with these verses from Galatians:
You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another in love. For the whole law is summed up in a single command: ‘Love one another as yourself.’ But if you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will end up being devoured by each other.
It was to avoid just this dismal scenario that Benedict decided to lift the excommunications, as he explains. What especially bears emphasizing is this passage from his letter:
To say it once again: As long as the doctrinal issues are not resolved, the Fraternity [of Pius X] has no canonical status in the Church; and its ministers, even if they are free from ecclesiastical censure, do not exercise any legitimate ministry in the Church. . . . [It is] clear that the problems now under discussion are essentially doctrinal in nature, especially those concerning the acceptance of the Second Vatican Council and the post-conciliar Magisterium of the popes. . . . One cannot freeze the magisterial authority of the Church at the year1962-this must be made quite clear to the Fraternity.
But the Lefebvrists are hardly the only faction in the Roman Church “biting and devouring†the Body of Christ. Benedict also directs these pointed words at those “ready-to-pounce†Catholics who style themselves professional defenders of Vatican II: “But to some of those who pose as great defenders of the Council, one must keep in mind that Vatican II contains within itself the whole doctrinal history of the Church. Whoever claims obedience to the Council must accept as well the faith of centuries and not cut down the roots that are the very source of life for the tree.â€
Throughout the letter, the pope subjects himself to a searching examination of conscience: he admits numerous mishaps on his and the Vatican’s part; he implicitly criticizes the dicastery in charge of negotiating with the Fraternity by placing all future dealings with the schismatics in the hands of the Congregation for the Defense of the Faith (since now, the pope says, all remaining issues are doctrinal, not liturgical); and he even wonders aloud if his pastoral solicitude is not drawing attention away from making the Christian faith more credible in an unbelieving world.
I sincerely hope that Benedict’s frank examination will lead to a similar searching on the part of all Catholics, very much including those who began the schism in the first place by letting themselves be ordained illicitly. But their numbers would never have grown to such an extent were it not for the woes that came in the wake of the Vatican II Council, caused not, I insist, by the Council itself but by its interpretation.
Legitimate controversy, of course, continues to range over its meaning, and will likely continue to do so. Specifically, did Vatican II represent a rupture with the Church’s past, or was it instead a seamless transition from one era to another? But that way of posing the question to my mind is too pat. Church history is far too complex to fit into these neat binary categories.
As the debate is usually framed, we are confined to but four positions. First, according to the standard schema, there are only two stances on the question of whether Vatican II broke with Catholic tradition (yes or no). Then, right after that, there are two further subsidiary positions one must take, to affirm or decry the initial conclusion (good or bad). Thus, one option holds that Vatican II seamlessly continues the Church’s past, and should be praised for keeping the faith. (The late Avery Cardinal Dulles is often taken as the premier defender of this position, although his actual conclusion is more subtle.)
The second position equally concedes Vatican II’s continuity with the Church’s past, but is for that reason to be lamented. (Hans Küng comes close to that view; indeed he wrote his book The Church while the Council was still in session to offer an alternative to Lumen gentium, the Council’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, which he thought was too hidebound in its attachment to the past).
A third position holds that Vatican II represents a break with the Church’s past and should be praised for doing so. (John O’Malley’s recent book What Happened at Vatican II likes this posture.)
Finally, a fourth position agrees with the disruption thesis and loudly complains about it. (Such is the basis for the Lefebvrist schism.)
But surely the reality is more complicated than these too-neat options can allow. Why cannot Vatican II be seen as both continuous with and yet also a departure from the Church’s ancient tradition? Isn’t that true, after all, of all the major and historic councils? Doesn’t a more nuanced assessment do less violence to the historical record than the procrustean options outlined above? Although Benedict is famous in the world press for holding to what he calls the “hermeneutics of continuity,†his own position is actually far subtler than such a tagline would indicate (which is partly why in lifting the excommunications he was so readily misunderstood).
In fact, in the very speech he gave to the Roman Curia, December 22, 2005, that made the “hermeneutics of continuity†so famous as a phrase, he openly admitted that Vatican II represents a rupture of some kind (why else the controversy?). But for him it was a rupture that paradoxically revealed the Church’s fidelity to her truest identity: A discontinuity was revealed, he said to the Curia, “but [it was one] in which, after the various distinctions between concrete historical situations and their requirements had been made, the continuity of principles proved not to have been abandoned.â€
To those stuck in the usual two categories provided by secular journalism, the pope will sound here like he is trying to have it both ways. But for Benedict, unless we can accurately categorize the various changes brought about by the Council in different terms, we will continue to misinterpret it. In other words, the issue of continuity vs. discontinuity only gets us to the beginning of the debate, not to its end.
So what category would work better? How best should the Council be understood? For Benedict the key term is reform: “It is precisely in this combination of continuity and discontinuity at different levels that the very nature of true reform consists†[all emphases are added]. In other words, to refuse to admit any disjunction with the Church’s past would not only distort the historical record (which shows clear instances of both continuity and discontinuity in the conciliar documents), but also would inevitably block reform, which requires not a convoluted combination between continuity and discontinuity but rather, in the pope’s own words, “innovation in continuity.â€
Among these undeniable innovations, Benedict above all stressed Vatican II’s Decree on Religious Liberty (Dignitatis Humanae). Frankly admitting that Vatican II broke with the “fortress mentality†set in motion by Pius IX’s open hostility to the modern world and by his condemnation of religious liberty in his Syllabus of Errors (1864), Benedict explained the reasons for the Council’s departure from that teaching:
In the 19th century under Pius IX, the clash between the Church’s faith and a radical liberalism . . . had elicited from the Church a bitter and radical condemnation of this spirit of the modern age. . . . In the meantime, however, the modern age had also experienced developments. People came to realize that the American Revolution was offering a model of a modern state that differed from the theoretical model with radical tendencies that had emerged during the second phase of the French Revolution.
In other words, circumstances change, and the Church must change with them—but not her identity. Granted, discerning the difference between the need to change in order to fit changed circumstances, and the simultaneous need to preserve the Church’s perennial identity, is not easy. The case of religious liberty is ideal for seeing this discernment at work, especially since it is the one that most bothers the Lefebvrist schismatics. But in taking up this issue, the pope is blunt about the volte-face effected by the Council:
With [its] Decree on Religious Freedom the Second Vatican Council, by recognizing and making its own an essential principle of the modern state, has recovered the deepest patrimony of the Church. By so doing she can be conscious of being in full harmony with the teaching of Jesus himself, as well as with the Church of the martyrs of all time. The ancient Church naturally prayed for the emperors and political leaders out of duty; but while she prayed for the emperors, she refused to worship them and thereby clearly rejected the religion of the state. The martyrs of the early Church died for their faith in that God who was revealed in Jesus Christ, and for this very reason they also died for freedom of conscience and the freedom to profess one’s own faith-a profession that no state can impose but which, instead, can only be claimed with God’s grace in freedom of conscience.
No one doubts (least of all Benedict) that Vatican II’s embrace of what he calls “the essential principle of the modern state†has led to a resurgence of relativism inside the Church. But for the pope, this is not the fault of the Council but of a categorical mistake arising from the fact that the liberal democratic state must be neutral to religious truth claims while the Church cannot be. Many liberal Catholic theologians, however, took Dignitatis Humanae as a license to attribute equal saving significance to other world religions: If the state must be neutral to religious truth claims, so must we!
Obviously, that was not the intent of Vatican II, which in fact grounded its affirmation of religious liberty by drawing on the resources of its own ecclesial tradition, basing its teaching on revelation itself. Far from rejecting the Council’s teaching, Benedict’s decades-long attack on relativism is rooted in the Council:
Thus, for example, if religious freedom were to be considered an expression of the human inability to discover the truth and thus become a canonization of relativism, then this social and historical necessity [to be tolerant] is raised inappropriately to the metaphysical level and thus is stripped of its true meaning. Consequently, it cannot be accepted by those who believe that the human person is capable of knowing the truth about God and-on the basis of the inner dignity of the truth-is bound to [accept] this knowledge. It is quite different, on the other hand, to perceive religious freedom as . . . an intrinsic consequence of the truth that cannot be externally imposed but which the person must adopt only through the process of conviction.
The same principle of innovation-in-continuity applies to the Church’s bond with Judaism. No one disputes that Vatican II brought about a revolution in relations. Here binary categories (perhaps just this once) can be applied, since the vast majority of Catholics admit that a deep and irrevocable sea-change has occurred in their relationship to Jews, and approve of it. The lonely Lefebvrist schismatics sulk in notorious dissent—precisely because of their purblind refusal to distinguish rapprochement from relativism. But for the pope, changed circumstances forced the bishops at Vatican II to reassess long-held presuppositions. And by drawing on her ancient charters (especially Romans 9-11), the Church was able to distance herself from prior hostility and launch a dialogue of mutual respect unheard of in church history. This change the pope explicitly affirms. In words that I hope will throw a reconciling light on the recent controversy over his attempts to heal the Lefebvrist schism, the pope says: “In particular, before the recent crimes of the Nazi regime and, in general, with a retrospective look at a long and difficult history, it was necessary to evaluate and define in a new way the relationship between the Church and the faith of Israel.â€
During the past few weeks, while the enormous and heated controversy over the Church’s canonical connection to the Lefebvrist schism was playing itself out in the world media, I kept thinking back to this curial address of Benedict, delivered a mere eight months after his election to the papacy which he clearly meant to be his papacy’s manifesto. Anyone who reads this address will realize that there is no going back for this pope. The innovations of the Council are real, and they are here to stay. If either liberal Catholics or revanchist Lefebvrists think Benedict is about to revoke Vatican II in his effort to heal a schism, then they are clearly laboring under a mad delusion—one nearly as demented as the mirage entertained by those loons who are willing to grant more historical authenticity to the czarist forgery The Protocols of the Elders of Zion than they are to Dignitatis Humanae. Good luck with that.
But I quote the pope at such length not merely to set forth an accurate account of his own views of Vatican II, and to exonerate him of baseless charges that he wants to return the Church to moribund ways that are impossible to revive. I also want to wean everyone, and not just journalists and deluded schismatics, from tiresome and jejune binary categories that have too long hampered a proper interpretation and application of Vatican II. When reading Benedict, time and again, I am reminded of Cardinal Newman. His too was a mind subtle enough to be able to say that his whole life was a struggle against the liberal principle in religion (meaning, that all religions are the same merely because all make equally unverifiable truth-claims), and yet also to say: “To live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often.â€
Holding together these two axioms is admittedly a difficult challenge, but an inevitable one, automatically entailed in the concept of a definitive revelation that is also essentially historical, historical both in content and in consequences for world history. It was just this very dilemma that led Newman, while still in the Church of England, to see that the very concept of a historical revelation directly entails an infallible interpreter of that revelation. Otherwise, one will either have a Heraclitean flux and no identity, or a Parmenidean rigidity that can’t meet the challenge of ceaseless change on the historical stage. As he said, with his typically deathless prose, a year before converting to Rome:
The most obvious answer, then, to the question, why we yield to the authority of the Church in the questions and developments of faith, is, that some authority there must be if there is a revelation given, and other authority there is none but she. A revelation is not given if there be no authority to decide what it is that is given. . . . If Christianity is both social and dogmatic, and intended for all ages, it must humanly speaking have an infallible expounder. Else you will secure unity of form at the loss of unity of doctrine, or unity of doctrine at the loss of unity of form; you will have to choose between a comprehension of opinions and a resolution into parties, between latitudinarian and sectarian error. You may be tolerant or intolerant of contrarieties of thought, but contrarieties you will have. By the Church of England a hollow uniformity is preferred to an infallible chair; and by the sects of England an interminable division. Germany and Geneva began with persecution and have ended in scepticism. The doctrine of infallibility is a less violent hypothesis than this sacrifice either of faith or of charity. It secures the object, while it gives definiteness and force to the matter, of Revelation.
Exactly.
Edward T. Oakes, S.J., teaches theology at the University of St. Mary of the Lake, the seminary of the Archdiocese of Chicago.
March 14, 2009 at 11:21 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772594Praxiteles
ParticipantThe famous letter in the original and commenting once again (by implication) the central problematic underlying what has happened in in some contemporary understandings of liturgy and church architecture:
BRIEF SEINER HEILIGKEIT PAPST BENEDIKT XVI.
AN DIE BISCHÖFE DER KATHOLISCHEN KIRCHE
IN SACHEN AUFHEBUNG DER EXKOMMUNIKATION
DER VIER VON ERZBISCHOF LEFEBVRE GEWEIHTEN BISCHÖFELiebe Mitbrüder im bischöflichen Dienst!
Die Aufhebung der Exkommunikation für die vier von Erzbischof Lefebvre im Jahr 1988 ohne Mandat des Heiligen Stuhls geweihten Bischöfe hat innerhalb und außerhalb der katholischen Kirche aus vielfältigen Gründen zu einer Auseinandersetzung von einer Heftigkeit geführt, wie wir sie seit langem nicht mehr erlebt haben. Viele Bischöfe fühlten sich ratlos vor einem Ereignis, das unerwartet gekommen und kaum positiv in die Fragen und Aufgaben der Kirche von heute einzuordnen war. Auch wenn viele Hirten und Gläubige den Versöhnungswillen des Papstes grundsätzlich positiv zu werten bereit waren, so stand dagegen doch die Frage nach der Angemessenheit einer solchen Gebärde angesichts der wirklichen Dringlichkeiten gläubigen Lebens in unserer Zeit. Verschiedene Gruppierungen hingegen beschuldigten den Papst ganz offen, hinter das Konzil zurückgehen zu wollen: eine Lawine von Protesten setzte sich in Bewegung, deren Bitterkeit Verletzungen sichtbar machte, die über den Augenblick hinausreichen. So fühle ich mich gedrängt, an Euch, liebe Mitbrüder, ein klärendes Wort zu richten, das helfen soll, die Absichten zu verstehen, die mich und die zuständigen Organe des Heiligen Stuhls bei diesem Schritt geleitet haben. Ich hoffe, auf diese Weise zum Frieden in der Kirche beizutragen.
Eine für mich nicht vorhersehbare Panne bestand darin, daß die Aufhebung der Exkommunikation überlagert wurde von dem Fall Williamson. Der leise Gestus der Barmherzigkeit gegenüber vier gültig, aber nicht rechtmäßig geweihten Bischöfen erschien plötzlich als etwas ganz anderes: als Absage an die christlich-jüdische Versöhnung, als Rücknahme dessen, was das Konzil in dieser Sache zum Weg der Kirche erklärt hat. Aus einer Einladung zur Versöhnung mit einer sich abspaltenden kirchlichen Gruppe war auf diese Weise das Umgekehrte geworden: ein scheinbarer Rückweg hinter alle Schritte der Versöhnung von Christen und Juden, die seit dem Konzil gegangen wurden und die mitzugehen und weiterzubringen von Anfang an ein Ziel meiner theologischen Arbeit gewesen war. Daß diese Überlagerung zweier gegensätzlicher Vorgänge eingetreten ist und den Frieden zwischen Christen und Juden wie auch den Frieden in der Kirche für einen Augenblick gestört hat, kann ich nur zutiefst bedauern. Ich höre, daß aufmerksames Verfolgen der im Internet zugänglichen Nachrichten es ermöglicht hätte, rechtzeitig von dem Problem Kenntnis zu erhalten. Ich lerne daraus, daß wir beim Heiligen Stuhl auf diese Nachrichtenquelle in Zukunft aufmerksamer achten müssen. Betrübt hat mich, daß auch Katholiken, die es eigentlich besser wissen konnten, mit sprungbereiter Feindseligkeit auf mich einschlagen zu müssen glaubten. Um so mehr danke ich den jüdischen Freunden, die geholfen haben, das Mißverständnis schnell aus der Welt zu schaffen und die Atmosphäre der Freundschaft und des Vertrauens wiederherzustellen, die – wie zur Zeit von Papst Johannes Paul II. – auch während der ganzen Zeit meines Pontifikats bestanden hatte und gottlob weiter besteht.
Eine weitere Panne, die ich ehrlich bedaure, besteht darin, daß Grenze und Reichweite der Maßnahme vom 21.1.2009 bei der Veröffentlichung des Vorgangs nicht klar genug dargestellt worden sind. Die Exkommunikation trifft Personen, nicht Institutionen. Bischofsweihe ohne päpstlichen Auftrag bedeutet die Gefahr eines Schismas, weil sie die Einheit des Bischofskollegiums mit dem Papst in Frage stellt. Die Kirche muß deshalb mit der härtesten Strafe, der Exkommunikation, reagieren, und zwar, um die so Bestraften zur Reue und in die Einheit zurückzurufen. 20 Jahre nach den Weihen ist dieses Ziel leider noch immer nicht erreicht worden. Die Rücknahme der Exkommunikation dient dem gleichen Ziel wie die Strafe selbst: noch einmal die vier Bischöfe zur Rückkehr einzuladen. Diese Geste war möglich, nachdem die Betroffenen ihre grundsätzliche Anerkennung des Papstes und seiner Hirtengewalt ausgesprochen hatten, wenn auch mit Vorbehalten, was den Gehorsam gegen seine Lehrautorität und gegen die des Konzils betrifft. Damit komme ich zur Unterscheidung von Person und Institution zurück. Die Lösung der Exkommunikation war eine Maßnahme im Bereich der kirchlichen Disziplin: Die Personen wurden von der Gewissenslast der schwersten Kirchenstrafe befreit. Von dieser disziplinären Ebene ist der doktrinelle Bereich zu unterscheiden. Daß die Bruderschaft Pius’ X. keine kanonische Stellung in der Kirche hat, beruht nicht eigentlich auf disziplinären, sondern auf doktrinellen Gründen. Solange die Bruderschaft keine kanonische Stellung in der Kirche hat, solange üben auch ihre Amtsträger keine rechtmäßigen Ämter in der Kirche aus. Es ist also zu unterscheiden zwischen der die Personen als Personen betreffenden disziplinären Ebene und der doktrinellen Ebene, bei der Amt und Institution in Frage stehen. Um es noch einmal zu sagen: Solange die doktrinellen Fragen nicht geklärt sind, hat die Bruderschaft keinen kanonischen Status in der Kirche und solange üben ihre Amtsträger, auch wenn sie von der Kirchenstrafe frei sind, keine Ämter rechtmäßig in der Kirche aus.
Angesichts dieser Situation beabsichtige ich, die Päpstliche Kommission “Ecclesia Dei”, die seit 1988 für diejenigen Gemeinschaften und Personen zuständig ist, die von der Bruderschaft Pius’ X. oder ähnlichen Gruppierungen kommend in die volle Gemeinschaft mit dem Papst zurückkehren wollen, in Zukunft mit der Glaubenskongregation zu verbinden. Damit soll deutlich werden, daß die jetzt zu behandelnden Probleme wesentlich doktrineller Natur sind, vor allem die Annahme des II. Vatikanischen Konzils und des nachkonziliaren Lehramts der Päpste betreffen. Die kollegialen Organe, mit denen die Kongregation die anfallenden Fragen bearbeitet (besonders die regelmäßige Kardinalsversammlung an den Mittwochen und die ein- bis zweijährige Vollversammlung), garantieren die Einbeziehung der Präfekten verschiedener römischer Kongregationen und des weltweiten Episkopats in die zu fällenden Entscheidungen. Man kann die Lehrautorität der Kirche nicht im Jahr 1962 einfrieren – das muß der Bruderschaft ganz klar sein. Aber manchen von denen, die sich als große Verteidiger des Konzils hervortun, muß auch in Erinnerung gerufen werden, daß das II. Vaticanum die ganze Lehrgeschichte der Kirche in sich trägt. Wer ihm gehorsam sein will, muß den Glauben der Jahrhunderte annehmen und darf nicht die Wurzeln abschneiden, von denen der Baum lebt.
Ich hoffe, liebe Mitbrüder, daß damit die positive Bedeutung wie auch die Grenze der Maßnahme vom 21.1.2009 geklärt ist. Aber nun bleibt die Frage: War das notwendig? War das wirklich eine Priorität? Gibt es nicht sehr viel Wichtigeres? Natürlich gibt es Wichtigeres und Vordringlicheres. Ich denke, daß ich die Prioritäten des Pontifikats in meinen Reden zu dessen Anfang deutlich gemacht habe. Das damals Gesagte bleibt unverändert meine Leitlinie. Die erste Priorität für den Petrusnachfolger hat der Herr im Abendmahlssaal unmißverständlich fixiert: „Du aber stärke deine Brüder” (Lk 22, 32). Petrus selber hat in seinem ersten Brief diese Priorität neu formuliert: „Seid stets bereit, jedem Rede und Antwort zu stehen, der nach der Hoffnung fragt, die in euch ist” (1 Petr 3, 15). In unserer Zeit, in der der Glaube in weiten Teilen der Welt zu verlöschen droht wie eine Flamme, die keine Nahrung mehr findet, ist die allererste Priorität, Gott gegenwärtig zu machen in dieser Welt und den Menschen den Zugang zu Gott zu öffnen. Nicht zu irgendeinem Gott, sondern zu dem Gott, der am Sinai gesprochen hat; zu dem Gott, dessen Gesicht wir in der Liebe bis zum Ende (Joh 13, 1) – im gekreuzigten und auferstandenen Jesus Christus erkennen. Das eigentliche Problem unserer Geschichtsstunde ist es, daß Gott aus dem Horizont der Menschen verschwindet und daß mit dem Erlöschen des von Gott kommenden Lichts Orientierungslosigkeit in die Menschheit hereinbricht, deren zerstörerische Wirkungen wir immer mehr zu sehen bekommen.
Die Menschen zu Gott, dem in der Bibel sprechenden Gott zu führen, ist die oberste und grundlegende Priorität der Kirche und des Petrusnachfolgers in dieser Zeit. Aus ihr ergibt sich dann von selbst, daß es uns um die Einheit der Glaubenden gehen muß. Denn ihr Streit, ihr innerer Widerspruch, stellt die Rede von Gott in Frage. Daher ist das Mühen um das gemeinsame Glaubenszeugnis der Christen – um die Ökumene – in der obersten Priorität mit eingeschlossen. Dazu kommt die Notwendigkeit, daß alle, die an Gott glauben, miteinander den Frieden suchen, versuchen einander näher zu werden, um so in der Unterschiedenheit ihres Gottesbildes doch gemeinsam auf die Quelle des Lichts zuzugehen – der interreligiöse Dialog. Wer Gott als Liebe bis ans Ende verkündigt, muß das Zeugnis der Liebe geben: den Leidenden in Liebe zugewandt sein, Haß und Feindschaft abwehren – die soziale Dimension des christlichen Glaubens, von der ich in der Enzyklika Deus caritas est gesprochen habe.
Wenn also das Ringen um den Glauben, um die Hoffnung und um die Liebe in der Welt die wahre Priorität für die Kirche in dieser Stunde (und in unterschiedlichen Formen immer) darstellt, so gehören doch auch die kleinen und mittleren Versöhnungen mit dazu. Daß die leise Gebärde einer hingehaltenen Hand zu einem großen Lärm und gerade so zum Gegenteil von Versöhnung geworden ist, müssen wir zur Kenntnis nehmen. Aber nun frage ich doch: War und ist es wirklich verkehrt, auch hier dem Bruder entgegenzugehen, „der etwas gegen dich hat” und Versöhnung zu versuchen (vgl. Mt 5, 23f)? Muß nicht auch die zivile Gesellschaft versuchen, Radikalisierungen zuvorzukommen, ihre möglichen Träger – wenn irgend möglich – zurückzubinden in die großen gestaltenden Kräfte des gesellschaftlichen Lebens, um Abkapselung und all ihre Folgen zu vermeiden? Kann es ganz falsch sein, sich um die Lösung von Verkrampfungen und Verengungen zu bemühen und dem Raum zu geben, was sich an Positivem findet und sich ins Ganze einfügen läßt? Ich habe selbst in den Jahren nach 1988 erlebt, wie sich durch die Heimkehr von vorher von Rom sich abtrennenden Gemeinschaften dort das innere Klima verändert hat; wie die Heimkehr in die große, weite und gemeinsame Kirche Einseitigkeiten überwand und Verkrampfungen löste, so daß nun daraus positive Kräfte für das Ganze wurden. Kann uns eine Gemeinschaft ganz gleichgültig sein, in der es 491 Priester, 215 Seminaristen, 6 Seminare, 88 Schulen, 2 Universitäts-Institute, 117 Brüder und 164 Schwestern gibt? Sollen wir sie wirklich beruhigt von der Kirche wegtreiben lassen? Ich denke zum Beispiel an die 491 Priester. Das Geflecht ihrer Motivationen können wir nicht kennen. Aber ich denke, daß sie sich nicht für das Priestertum entschieden hätten, wenn nicht neben manchem Schiefen oder Kranken die Liebe zu Christus da gewesen wäre und der Wille, ihn und mit ihm den lebendigen Gott zu verkünden. Sollen wir sie einfach als Vertreter einer radikalen Randgruppe aus der Suche nach Versöhnung und Einheit ausschalten? Was wird dann werden?
Gewiß, wir haben seit langem und wieder beim gegebenen Anlaß viele Mißtöne von Vertretern dieser Gemeinschaft gehört – Hochmut und Besserwisserei, Fixierung in Einseitigkeiten hinein usw. Dabei muß ich der Wahrheit wegen anfügen, daß ich auch eine Reihe bewegender Zeugnisse der Dankbarkeit empfangen habe, in denen eine Öffnung der Herzen spürbar wurde. Aber sollte die Großkirche nicht auch großmütig sein können im Wissen um den langen Atem, den sie hat; im Wissen um die Verheißung, die ihr gegeben ist? Sollten wir nicht wie rechte Erzieher manches Ungute auch überhören können und ruhig aus der Enge herauszuführen uns mühen? Und müssen wir nicht zugeben, daß auch aus kirchlichen Kreisen Mißtönendes gekommen ist? Manchmal hat man den Eindruck, daß unsere Gesellschaft wenigstens eine Gruppe benötigt, der gegenüber es keine Toleranz zu geben braucht; auf die man ruhig mit Haß losgehen darf. Und wer sie anzurühren wagte – in diesem Fall der Papst -, ging auch selber des Rechts auf Toleranz verlustig und durfte ohne Scheu und Zurückhaltung ebenfalls mit Haß bedacht werden.
Liebe Mitbrüder, in den Tagen, in denen mir in den Sinn kam, diesen Brief zu schreiben, ergab es sich zufällig, daß ich im Priesterseminar zu Rom die Stelle aus Gal 5, 13 – 15 auslegen und kommentieren mußte. Ich war überrascht, wie direkt sie von der Gegenwart dieser Stunde redet: „Nehmt die Freiheit nicht zum Vorwand für das Fleisch, sondern dient einander in Liebe! Das ganze Gesetz wird in dem einen Wort zusammengefaßt: Du sollst deinen Nächsten lieben wie dich selbst! Wenn ihr einander beißt und zerreißt, dann gebt acht, daß ihr euch nicht gegenseitig umbringt.” Ich war immer geneigt, diesen Satz als eine der rhetorischen Übertreibungen anzusehen, die es gelegentlich beim heiligen Paulus gibt. In gewisser Hinsicht mag er dies auch sein. Aber leider gibt es das „Beißen und Zerreißen” auch heute in der Kirche als Ausdruck einer schlecht verstandenen Freiheit. Ist es verwunderlich, daß wir auch nicht besser sind als die Galater? Daß uns mindestens die gleichen Versuchungen bedrohen? Daß wir den rechten Gebrauch der Freiheit immer neu lernen müssen? Und daß wir immer neu die oberste Priorität lernen müssen: die Liebe? An dem Tag, an dem ich darüber im Priesterseminar zu reden hatte, wurde in Rom das Fest der Madonna della Fiducia – unserer Lieben Frau vom Vertrauen – begangen. In der Tat – Maria lehrt uns das Vertrauen. Sie führt uns zum Sohn, dem wir alle vertrauen dürfen. Er wird uns leiten – auch in turbulenten Zeiten. So möchte ich am Schluß all den vielen Bischöfen von Herzen danken, die mir in dieser Zeit bewegende Zeichen des Vertrauens und der Zuneigung, vor allem aber ihr Gebet geschenkt haben. Dieser Dank gilt auch allen Gläubigen, die mir in dieser Zeit ihre unveränderte Treue zum Nachfolger des heiligen Petrus bezeugt haben. Der Herr behüte uns alle und führe uns auf den Weg des Friedens. Das ist ein Wunsch, der spontan aus meinem Herzen aufsteigt, gerade jetzt zu Beginn der Fastenzeit, einer liturgischen Zeit, die der inneren Läuterung besonders förderlich ist und die uns alle einlädt, mit neuer Hoffnung auf das leuchtende Ziel des Osterfestes zu schauen.
Mit einem besonderen Apostolischen Segen verbleibe ich
im Herrn Euer
BENEDICTUS PP. XVI
March 13, 2009 at 8:55 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772593Praxiteles
ParticipantA note on early 20th century American Church Architecture from the New Liturgical Movement:
Some Images of Early 20th Century American Liturgical Architecture
by Matthew AldermanThe turn of the last century was a true golden age for liturgical design in the United States. I have discussed the work of Ralph Adams Cram and Bertram Goodhue, and Cram’s exertions in promoting a return to traditional forms of worship among Anglicans and nonliturgical Protestants, but there were dozens of lesser masters, such as the Irish Catholic immigrant Charles Maginnis, a former Cram employee and sometime president of the American Institute of Architects, whose breadth of work rivals that of his master, and many more local figures whose names are even less well-known today–John T. Comes, Frank R. Watson, Charles Klauder… It is also striking to note the work was not uniformly Gothic–as evident by the exuberant Mexican Baroque altarpiece proposed for a Cuban project above, as well as numerous Romanesque, classical and even faintly Plateresque examples. Neither were the styles chosen evenly ‘historicist’ or archaeologic in their composition, often incorporating in their massing a hint of the skyscraper.
The consistent quality of such work is, nontheless amazing, as are the many unlikely or unheard-of places where these churches and chapels still stand. Here follows a selection of illustrations from a number of works, but principally the two publications American Churches, from 1915, and American Church-Building of To-Day, from 1929, both wonderful chronicles of this moment in architectural time.
Top Row: l to R
St Mary’s, Radford, Detroit; Holy Cross College, Wocester, MA
Lower Row: L to R
Holy Cross College, Wocester, MA [Mcginnis and Walsh)
Carmelite Convent, Santa Clara, CA [McGinnis and Walsh]March 11, 2009 at 10:16 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772592Praxiteles
ParticipantAnd another contribution from Laszlo:
Critical Reflections on the Bugnini Liturgy: The Divine Office
http://www.musicasacra.com/publications/sacredmusic/pdf/divineoffice.pdf
March 11, 2009 at 10:15 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772591Praxiteles
ParticipantA little contribution from Laszlo Dobszay:
The Bugnini-Liturgy and the Reform of the Reform
March 11, 2009 at 7:56 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772590Praxiteles
Participant@james1852 wrote:
St Mel’s was completly decorated with elaborate stencil designs on the ceiling panels and walls in 1925 by J Hodkinson & Sons , Limerick. This work is , as far as I know, all painted out now, however some photos do exist of this work.
Any chance of posting some of those photographs?
March 10, 2009 at 7:56 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772588Praxiteles
ParticipantAnd yet another one froma young Italian liturgist:
The centrality of the crucified Christ in the liturgical celebration
“They shall look on Him whom they have pierced.”
By Mauro Gagliardi
Consultor to the Office of Liturgical Celebrations of the Supreme PontiffIn this season of Lent, one cannot but think of the great mystery of the sacred Triduum at the end of these forty days will make us meditate and live again in the today of the liturgy, the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus. An aid on this way of conversion comes from meditation on the centrality of the Cross in the cult and, consequently, in the life of the Christian. The biblical readings of the Mass of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (September 14) present, among others, the theme of looking upon. The Israelites must look upon the bronze serpent lifted on the pole, to be healed from the poison of the snakes (cf. Numbers 21, 4b-9). Jesus in the Gospel of this liturgical celebration, says that he must be lifted up from the earth as the mosaic serpent, so that who believes in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting (cf. John 3, 13-17). The Israelites looked upon the serpent of bronze, but had to make an act of faith in the God who heals. For the disciples of Jesus, however, there is perfect convergence between “looking at” and believing: in order to obtain salvation, one must believe in Him upon Whom one looks: the crucified Risen One, and live in a manner consistent with this fundamental view.
This is the fundamental insight of the traditional liturgcial usage, according to which the sacred minister and the faithful are together turned towards the Crucified. At the time when the practice of celebrating towards the people came into use, the problem arose of the position of the priest at the altar, because now he had his back to the tabernacle and the crucifix. Initially, in several places was restored the box-shaped tabernacle placed above the altar separated from the wall: that way the tabernacle came to be between the priest and the faithful, in such a way that, although the one was still facing the others, both sacred minister and faithful could all look towards the Lord during the Liturgy of the Eucharist. [NLM note: I don’t think I have ever consciously seen such an arrangement and would be most curious to see an image, should any of our readers know of one.] This provisional solution was, however, soon superseded, mainly based on the conviction that this arrangement of the tabernacle generated a conflict of presneces: one could not keep the Blessed Sacrament on the altar of celebration, because this would put in contradicttion the different forms of presence of Christ in the liturgy. In the end, this was resolved by the displacement of the tabernacle to a side chapel. There was still the crucifix, to which the celebrant continued to turn his back, since as a rule it still remained at the center. This was resolved even more easily, by providing that it could now also be placed to the side of the altar. In this way, to be sure, the minister did not turn his back to it anymore, but the image of the crucified Lord lost its centrality and, in any case, the problem was not solved consisting in the fact that the priest was still not able to “look toward the Crucified” during the liturgy.
The liturgical norms, established for the current Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite, allow to place crucifix and tabernacle in abgesondert positions, however this does prevent a continued discussion about the greater appropriateness of them being placed in the center, as it must be with the altar. [NLM note: a point not always observed in some proposals for modern churches.] This is especially true for the image of the Crucified. The Instruction “Eucharisticum mysterium” [NLM note: issued by the Sacred Congregation of Rites in 1967, cf. here], in fact, states that “because of the sign” (ratione signi, no. 55), it is better that on the altar on which Mass is celebrated is not placed the tabernacle, because the real presence of the Lord is the fruit of the consecration and should be seen as such. This does not exclude that the tabernacle can as a rule remain at the centre of the liturgical edifice, especially where there is the presence of an older altar, which is now behind the new altar (see no. 54, which among other things the licitness of the placement of the tabernacle on the altar facing the people). Although this is a complex question and would require a more profound reflection, one can probably ackowledge that the moving of the tabernacle from the altar of celebration versus populum (i.e., the new altar) has some arguments more in its favor, since it is based not only on the conflict of presences, but also on the principle of the truth of the liturgical signs. [NLM note: This does indeed require further reflections, not least in the light of the pronouncements of the Servant of God Pius XII who only ten years prior to this instrcution rejected the separation of altar and tabernacle in his famous allocution to the Assisi liturgical congress.] But one cannot say the same about the crucifix. If the centrality of the crucifix is eliminated, the common understanding of the meaning of the liturgy runs the risk of being distorted as a result.
It is obvious that the “looking to” cannot be reduced to a mere outward gesture, made with the simple direction of the eyes. In contrast, it is mainly an attitude of the heart, which can and must be maintained whatever orientation is assumed by the body of the one praying and whatever the direction of the eyes during prayer. Still, in the Roman Canon, even in the missal of Paul VI, there is the rubric that requires the priest to raise his eyes to heaven just before pronouncing the words of consecration over the bread. The orientation of the spirit is more important, but the bodily expression accompanies and sustains the movement within. If it is true, then, that looking toward the Crucified is an act of the spirit, an act of faith and adoration, it remains true, nevertheless, that to look to the image of the Crucified during the liturgy helps and sustains very much the movement of the heart. We need sacred signs and gestures, which, while not a substitute for it, support the movement of the heart which yearns for sanctification: this, too, means acting liturgically ratione signi. Sacredness of the gesture and sanctification of the one praying are not elements opposed to each other, but aspects of one single reality.
If, therefore, the use of celebration versus populum has some positive aspects, one must nevertheless also recognise its limitations: in particular the risk of creating a closed circle between the minister and the faithful, who relegates to the second tier just the One to whom everyone must look with faith during the liturgical cult. It is possible to counter risks by returning to the liturgical prayer its orientation, in particular concerning the Eucharistic liturgy. While the liturgy of the word has its most appropriate form if the priest is facing the people, it seems theologically and pastorally most appropriate to apply the option – recognised by the missal of Paul VI in its various editions – to continue to celebrate the Eucharist toward the Crucified. This can be realised in practice in various ways, including placing the image of the Crucified at the center of the altar of the celebration versus populum, so that everyone, priest and faithful, can look to the Lord during the celebration of His holy sacrifice. In the preface to the first volume of his Gesammelte Schriften [opera omnia], Benedict XVI has said that he is happy that a proposal is gaining more and more ground which he had made in his Introduction to the Spirit of the Liturgy. This, as the Pope has written, consisted in suggesting “not to proceed with new transformations, but simply to put the cross in the center of the altar, towards which the priest and faithful can look together, to be guided in this way to the Lord, to whom we all pray together.”
(© L’Osservatore Romano – 9/10 March 2009)
March 9, 2009 at 11:25 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772587Praxiteles
ParticipantAnd yet another contribution to the revisiting of the 1970 liturgial reform:
Foreword to the book “True Development of the Liturgy: Cardinal Ferdinado Antonelli and the Liturgical Reform from 1948 to 1970” by Msgr. Nicola Giampietro
by Archbishop Malcolm Ranjith, Secretary of the Congregation for Divine Worship
To be published by Roman Catholic Books in the Autumn of 2009
“How much of the post–Conciliar liturgical reform truly reflects “Sacrosanctum Conciliumâ€, the Second Vatican Council’s Constitution on Sacred Liturgy is a question that has often been debated in ecclesial circles ever since the Concilium ad Exsequendam Constitutionem de Sacra Liturgia finished its work. It has been debated with even greater intensity in the last couple of decades. And while some have argued that what was done by the Concilium was indeed in line with that great document, others have totally disagreed.
“In the search for an answer to this question we ought to take into account the turbulent mood of the years that immediately followed the Council. In his decision to convoke the Council, Pope John XXIII had wished the Church to be prepared for the new world that was emerging in the aftermath of the disastrous events of the Second World War. He would have prophetically foreseen the emergence of a strong current of materialism and secularism from the core orientations of the preceding era which had been marked by the spirit of the enlightenment and in which the traditional values of the old world view had already begun to be shaken. The Industrial Revolution along with its strongly anthropocentric and subjectivist philosophical trends, especially those resulting from the influences of Kant, Hume and Hegel, led to the emergence also of Marxism and Positivism. It also let to the ascendance of Biblical Criticism relativising, to a certain extent, the veracity of the Holy Scriptures, which in turn had its negative influences on theology, generating a questioning attitude vis-Ã -vis the objectivity of established Truth and of the usefulness of defending ecclesial traditions and Institutions. Some schools of theology were bold enough even to question basic doctrines of the Church. In fact, Modernism had earlier been seen as a source of danger for the faith. It is in this background that Pope John XXIII had felt that more convincing answers needed to be found.
“The call for aggiornamento by the Pope thus assumed the character of a search for a fortification of the faith in order to render the Mission of the Church more effective and able to respond to these challenges convincingly. It was certainly not a call to go along with the spirit of the times, a sort of drifting passively along, nor was it a call to effect a new start to the Church as much as to render the message of the Gospel even more responsive to the difficult questions mankind would face in the post-modern era. The Pope explained the ethos behind his decision when he stated, “today the Church is witnessing a crisis under way within society. While humanity is on the edge of a new era, tasks of immense gravity and amplitude await the Church, as in the most tragic periods of its history. It is a question in fact of bringing the modern world into contact with the vivifying and perennial energies of the Gospel ………. in the face of this twofold spectacle – a world which reveals a grave state of spiritual poverty and the Church of Christ, which is still so vibrant with vitality – we …. have felt immediately the urgency of the duty to call our sons together to give the Church the possibility to contribute more efficaciously to the solution of the problems of the modern age†[Apostolic Constitution Humanae Salutis of 25th Dec. 1961]. The Pope went on, “the forthcoming Council will meet therefore at a moment in which the Church finds very alive the desire to fortify its faith, and to contemplate itself in its own awe-inspiring unity. In the same way, it feels urgent the duty to give greater efficiency to its sound vitality and to promote the sanctification of its members, the diffusion of revealed truth, the consolidation of its agencies†[ibid].
Thus the Council was basically a call for a fortification of the Church from within in order to make it better prepared for its mission amidst the realities of the modern world. Underlying these words was also the sense of appreciation the Pope felt towards what the Church indeed already was. The words, “vibrant with vitality†used by the Pope to define the status of the Church at that moment, surely do not betray any sense of pessimism, as though the Pope looked down upon the past or what the Church had achieved up until then. Hence one cannot justifiably think that with the Council the Pope called for a new beginning. Neither was it a call to the Church to “de-classify†itself, changing or giving up totally its age old traditions getting itself, so to say, absorbed into the reality of the world around. In no way was change to be made for the sake of change but only in order to make the Church stronger and better prepared to face new challenges. In short, the Council was never to be an aimless adventure. It was intended to be a truly Pentecostal experience.
“Yet, however much the Popes who guided this event insisted upon the need for a true spirit of reform, faithful to the essential nature of the Church, and even if the Council itself had produced such beautiful theological and pastoral reflections as Lumen Gentium, Dei Verbum, Gaudium et Spes and Sacrosanctum Concilium, what happened outside the Council − especially both within the society at large and within the circle of its philosophical and cultural leadership − began to influence it negatively, creating tendencies that were harmful to its life and mission. These tendencies, which at times were even more virulently represented by certain circles within the Church, were not necessarily connected to the orientations or recommendations of the documents of Vatican II. Yet they were able to shake the foundations of ecclesial teaching and faith to a surprising extent. Society’s fascination with an exaggerated sense of individual freedom and its penchant for the rejection of anything permanent, absolute or other worldly had its influence on the Church and often was justified in the name of the Council. This view also relativised Tradition, veracity of evolved doctrine, and tended to idolize anything new. It contained within itself strong tendencies favourable to relativism and religious syncretism. For them the Council had to be a sort of a new beginning for the Church. The past had overrun its course. Basic concepts and themes like Sacrifice and Redemption, Mission, Proclamation and Conversion, Adoration as an integral element of Communion, and the need of the Church for salvation — all were sidelined, while Dialogue, Inculturation, Ecumenism, Eucharist − as − Banquet, Evangelisation − as − Witness, etc., became more important. Absolute values were disdained.
“Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger had this to say on this ever increasing spirit of relativism – for him, the true Council “already during its sessions and then increasingly in the subsequent period, was opposed by a self-styled ‘Spirit of the Council’, which in reality is a true ‘anti-spirit’ of the Council. According to this pernicious anti-spirit [Konzils–Ungeist in German], everything that is ‘new’ ……. is always and in every case better than what has been or what is. It is the anti-spirit according to which the history of the Church would first begin with Vatican II, viewed as a kind of point zero†[The Ratzinger Report, Ignatius Press, San Francisco 1985 pp. 34 – 35]. The Cardinal discounted this view as untrue for “Vatican II surely did not want ‘to change’ the faith but to represent it in a more effective way†[ibid]. Actually, the Cardinal affirmed that in fact “the Council did not take the turn that John XXIII had expectedâ€. He further stated “It must also be admitted that, in respect to the whole Church, the prayer of Pope John that the Council signify a new leap forward for the Church, to renewed life and unity, has not – at least not yet – been granted†[ibid. p 42]. These are hard words indeed yet I would say very true, for, that spirit of exaggerated theological freedom indeed hijacked, so to say, the very Council itself away from its declared goals.
“The Concilium ad Exsequendam Constitutionem de Sacra Liturgia too was not exempt from being influenced by this overwhelming tidal wave of a so called desire for “change†and â€opennessâ€. Possibly some of the above mentioned relativising tendencies influenced the Liturgy too, undermining the centrality, the sacredness, sense of mystery as well as the value of what the continuous action of the Holy Spirit in the bi-millennial history of the Church had helped ecclesial liturgical life to grow into. An exaggerated sense of antiquarianism, anthropologism, confusion of roles between the ordained and the non-ordained, a limitless provision of space for experimentation − and, indeed, the tendency to look down upon some aspects of the development of the Liturgy in the second millennium − were increasingly visible among certain liturgical schools. Liturgists had also tended to pick and choose sections of Sacrosanctum Concilium which seemed to be more accommodating to change or novelty while ignoring others. Besides, there was a great sense of hurry to effect and legalize changes. Much space tended to be provided for a rather horizontalist way of looking at the Liturgy. Norms of the Council that tended to restrict such creativity or were favourable to ‘the traditional way’ seemed to be ignored. Worse still, some practices which Sacrosanctum Concilium had never even contemplated were allowed into the Liturgy, like Mass “versus populumâ€, Holy Communion on the hand, altogether giving up on the Latin and Gregorian Chant in favour of the vernacular and songs and hymns without much space for God, and extension beyond any reasonable limits of the faculty to concelebrate at Holy Mass. There was also the gross misinterpretation of the principle of “active participation†(actuosa participatio).
“All of that had its effect on the work of the Concilium. Those who guided the process of change both within the Concilium and later in the Sacred Congregation of Rites were certainly being influenced by all these novel tendencies. Not everything they introduced was negative. Much of the work done was praiseworthy. But much room was also left for experimentation and arbitrary interpretation. These â€freedoms†were exploited to their fullest extent by some liturgical â€experts†leading to too much confusion. Cardinal Ratzinger explains how “one shudders at the lackluster face of the post-conciliar liturgy as it has become, or one is bored with its banality and its lack of artistic standards ….†[The Feast of Faith, Ignatius Press, San Francisco 1986, p. 100]. This is not to lay the responsibility for what happened solely on the members of the Concilium. But some of their approaches were ‘weak’. There indeed was a general spirit of uncritical ‘giving in’ on certain matters to the rabble rousing spirit of the era, even within the Church, most visibly in some sectors and geographic regions. Some of those in authority at the level of the Sacred Congregation of Rites too did show signs of weakness in this matter. Too many indults had been given on certain requirements of the norms.
“Naturally the ‘spirit of freedom’ which some of these powerful sectors within the Church unleashed in the name of the Council, even leading the important decision makers to vacillate, led to much disorder and confusion, something which the Council never intended, nor did the Popes who guided it. The sad comment made by Pope Paul VI during the troubled seventies that “the smoke of Satan has entered the Church,†[Homily on 29th June 1972, Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul] or his comment on the excuses made by some to impede evangelization “on the basis of such and such a teaching of the Council†[Evangelii Nuntiandi 80], show how this anti-spirit of the Council render his labours most painful.
“In the light of all of this and of some of their troublesome consequences for the Church today, it is necessary to find out how the post-Conciliar liturgical reform did emerge and which figures or attitudes caused the present situation. It is a need which, in the name of truth, we cannot abandon. Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger analyzed the situation thus: “I am convinced that the crisis in the Church that we are experiencing is to a large extent due to the disintegration of the Liturgy …. when the community of faith, the worldwide unity of the Church and her history and the mystery of the living Christ are no longer visible in the Liturgy, where else, then is the Church to become visible in her spiritual essence? Then the community is celebrating only itself, an activity that is utterly fruitless†[Joseph Ratzinger, Milestones, Ignatius Press, San Francisco 1998 pp. 148 – 149]. As we saw above, certain weaknesses of those responsible and the stormy atmosphere of theological relativism, coupled with that sense of fascination with novelty, change, man-centeredness, accent on subjectivity and moral relativism, as well as on individual freedom which characterized the society at large, undermined the fixed values of the faith and caused this slide into liturgical anarchy about which the Cardinal spoke above.
“The penned notes of Cardinal Ferdinando Antonelli take on new significance. One of the most eminent and closely involved members of the Concilium which supervised the reform process, Cardinal Antonelli can help us to understand the inner polarizations that influenced the different decisions of the Reform and help us to be courageous in improving or changing that which was erroneously introduced and which appears to be incompatible with the true dignity of the Liturgy. Actually, Father Antonelli was already a member of the Pontifical Commission for Liturgical Reform appointed by Pope Pius XII on 28th May 1948. It was this commission that worked on the reform of the Liturgy of Holy Week and of the Easter Vigil, which reforms were handled with much care by the same. That very commission was then re-constituted by Pope John XXIII in May 1960 and, later on, Father Antonelli was also part of the inner group that worked on the redaction of Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Conciliar Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. Thus he indeed was very closely involved in the work of the reform from its very inception.
“Yet, his role in the reform movement seems to have been largely unknown until the author of this book, “Cardinal Ferdinando Antonelli and the developments of the Liturgical reform from 1948 to 1970â€, Mgr Nicola Giampietro, had come across his personal agenda notes and decided to present them in a study. This study, which was also the doctoral dissertation of Mgr Giampietro at the Pontifical Liturgical Institute of St. Anselm in Rome, helps us to understand the complex inner workings of the liturgical reform prior to and immediately following the Council. Cardinal Antonelli’s notes reveal a great man of faith and of the Church struggling to come to terms with some of the inner currents which influenced the work involving the Concilium ad Exsequendam Constitutionem de Sacra Liturgia. What he wrote in these diaries reveal quite candidly his feelings of joy as well as of sorrow and at times of fear at the way things were being made to move along, the attitudes of some of the key players and the sense of adventurism which had characterized some of the changes that had been introduced. The book is well done. Indeed, it has also been quoted by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger himself in an article he wrote in the well-known liturgical review “La Maison-Dieuâ€, entitled “Réponse du Cardinal Ratzinger au Père Gy†(La Maison-Dieu, 230, 2002/2, p. 116). Above all it is a timely study which would help us to see another side of the otherwise over euphoric presentations of the Conciliar Reform by other contemporary authors.
“The publication in English language of this interesting study would, I am sure contribute greatly to the ongoing debate on the post-Conciliar liturgical reforms. What is most clear to any reader of this study is that as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger stated, “the true time of Vatican II has not yet come†[The Ratzinger Report, Ignatius Press, San Francisco 1985 p. 40]. The reform has to go on. The immediate need seems to be that of a reform of the reformed Missal of 1969, for, quite a number of changes originating within the Post-Conciliar reform seem to have been introduced somewhat hastily and unreflectively, as Cardinal Antonelli himself repeatedly stated. One needs to correct the direction so that changes are indeed made to fall in line with Sacrosanctum Concilium itself and it must indeed go even further, keeping along with the spirit of our own times. And what urges such changes is not merely a desire to correct past mistakes but much more the need to be true to what Liturgy in fact is and means to us and what the Council itself defined it to be. For, indeed, as Cardinal Ratzinger stated: “the question of liturgy is not peripheral: the Council itself reminded us that we are dealing here with the very core of Christian faith†[ibid. p. 120]. What we need today is to not only engage ourselves in an honest appraisal of what happened but also to take bold and courageous decisions in moving the process along. We need to identify and correct the erroneous orientations and decisions made, appreciate the liturgical tradition of the past courageously, and ensure that the Church is made to re-discover the true roots of its spiritual wealth and grandeur even if that means reforming the reform itself, thereby ensuring that Liturgy truly becomes the “sublime expression of God’s glory and, in a certain sense, a glimpse of heaven on Earth†[Benedict XVI, Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Sacramentum Caritatis of 22nd February 2007, 35].”
Archbishop Malcolm Ranjith
Secretary,
CCDDS
8th December 2008
Feast of the Immaculate Conception of MaryMarch 9, 2009 at 2:15 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772586Praxiteles
ParticipantThat is Killnaskully for you!
March 9, 2009 at 1:17 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772584Praxiteles
ParticipantWell, it looks as though Cobh Urban District Council is trying to pull a fast one by allowing a whole series of works to go ahead at Cobh Cathedral without planning permission. The announcement was hurridly made at yeaterday’s Masses in the hope that nobody would notice. But, it has been notice and it looks as though the FOSCC are craking up the engine to teach the very obliging Urban District Council yet ANOTHER lesson. Watch this space!
March 8, 2009 at 4:03 pm in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #772582Praxiteles
ParticipantPraxiteles has received this video of a recent meeting of Cobh Urban District Council
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