Walking into this Minefield

This post was stirred up in me in light of the Spiritual Exercises, as strange as it may be. I would normally not walk into such a minefield as discussing opinions and preferences about liturgical styles, but here I go.

No wait. I can say one thing about why I write this. Throughout my life I have had occasion to struggle mightily with my personal freedom to have preferences. I've lived with people whose preferences are extremely different from my own and I have drunk in the sense that I must be, of my essence, offensive to those people because I like different things. This, predictably, led me to reject anything embraced by my peers as a kid. But in my adult life I see I sometimes had a lingering sense of sadness, thinking what I like either must be sacrificed for others' happiness with or acceptance of me, or that what I like must of necessity create distance between myself and others. Or that what I like is plain wrong.

So, liturgy. I was a bit shocked, really, that the Masses during the Exercises were so bare. Ok, you say, if the Lord of the Universe shows up, how can you call it bare? And you of course have a point. I do not at all argue the truth that if the priest is validly ordained, Mass is Mass, regardless of other factors. But do not these other factors speak, yell, sing, shout, of our love? Is this not a key expression of the Bride of Christ of her love for her Beloved?

Meander with me, if you have the patience, through some liturgical tastes of mine.

I cut my teeth on daily Mass in the basement chapel of Gesu parish in Milwaukee. Masses were simple; there were no lectors, no music, no frills, but there were the excellent homilies of Fr. John Campbell. He had a lilt to his praying of the liturgy -- he always said the prayers with a predictable intonation of voice, and yet he never, ever sounded as if he were just saying words and not in deep prayer. And he never rushed. His voice carved the paths of the prayer of the Mass into my heart starting in the days when I was still fumbling to follow along with the liturgy.

These days, I still love a good homily, which in my mind is one in the style of Fr. John: preached, and not read. Written communication and spoken communication are so different in style, and a homily that is read almost always strikes me as hard to follow, and speaking to my head (if that) rather than engaging my life.

I spend a good deal of my daily Masses these days at Franciscan University's Christ the King Chapel. There have been years when I frequented my parish or other parishes in town, especially when I worked and when my son was a baby. But to be honest, the time (12:05 pm) simply is the most convenient for me. I also appreciate that children and their noises have never created a stress for me in the crowded chapel.

One thing I appreciate about both the Chapel and my parish on Sundays is that everyone sings. I admit to fussiness when it comes to liturgical music. And I get so sad when people do not join in singing. Perhaps it comes from being raised as a Lutheran where there is no such thing as just sitting there and listening to others sing. We would have no more thought of sitting in church mute as sitting there with no clothes on; it's just not done. For similar reasons, I have problems with classical, frilly choir pieces used for Mass. Yeah, I know it's high culture and all, but I'm not there to have someone else sing praises for me, even if it is beautiful. Put it on a CD or sing in concert. But a choir had better be leading me in singing.

Sometimes I love the music at Franciscan and sometimes I am merely being patient. I think I can say the same no matter where I am. I am picky, I admit. There are songs I'd rather not sing for the next 50 years (like "Forever Grateful"). I would love to take aside 90% of the vocalists and tell them not to put five extra notes between every simple step from one note and the next. I would also love to hold a general seminar (for everyone!) to point out the liturgical norms that don't really call for holding hands during the Our Father, when to stand, when to kneel, and to point out what our Bishop (for our diocese at least) has stated as the proper expression of reverence when receiving Holy Communion!

Just for good measure I'll say I've never been to a Tridentine Mass and I really don't get why people get all uptight about that whole scene. I do like to occasionally attend a Byzantine liturgy, just to know there is vast beauty in the Church of which I know very little, and in which I can feel twice as lost as I ever did as a new Catholic. I like to know that God is present in many ways that I don't understand or have the least comfortable familiarity with.

At the beginning of one school year I sat behind a young woman who was doing a little leg tap and snapping her fingers during the Gloria. And you know what? I was happy she was praising God, and knew that five or so years down the road she would look back and probably feel a little embarrassed for herself. I hoped that everyone around her would still talk to her and give her her freedom and not embarrass her themselves.

I want people to respect the liturgy and their Bishop who is over it, I want them to bring to it the beauty that is the love in their hearts. I want music and preaching that employ honed skills, also born from great love of Jesus.

And even while I say this, I realize that I would drop it all, every concern, in a heartbeat if that were my only option to still be privileged to receive my Lord in the Eucharist. I spent over two years at Masses in Japanese where I could barely understand a word and where Who I loved felt so foreign. And still He was there. Even when everything is just as I would have it, and I feel like those things bring my Lord close, He is still infinitely beyond.