Ella and I went to York today to be commissioned as Ministers of the Word

It's always been a concern to me that reading isn't taken very seriously. Reading and singing. You only have to mention reading and singing and people say things like "wouldn't it be lovely to have the children do it?". There's this idea that reading and singing are mickey mouse jobs for getting as many people participating as possible. No. They are not. As it says in the General Introduction to the Lectionary: The ministry of reader, conferred through a liturgical rite, must be held in respect.

So, while many people were wailing and gnashing their teeth and saying things like "Why does the silly Church want to train me to read? I know how to read? I've been reading for years!" I was thinking "Thank goodness they are taking reading seriously."

All in all it was a good day. In the morning session Caroline and Kit Dollard did a fantastic exposition of what "ministry" means. They focussed on the spiritual preparation side of things talking about things like how to pray with the scriptures. Then Fr John Wood... I owe Fr John Wood an apology. I've only ever encountered him in the context of "listening" type events where he chaired and had to be seen to "listen". I kept thinking "why doesn't this silly priest tell these silly people how silly they are being". Well, it turns out Fr John Wood isn't a silly priest at all. His talk on the practical side of reading during mass was frank, engaging, illuminating and educational. We were impressed.

We stopped for lunch and after lunch we had a reflection to make sure there was a suitable gap between lunch and mass. I thought the altar arrangements were, well, poor...

Maybe I have ridiculously high expectations, but it surely wouldn't have been hard to have put a bit of effort in. I mean, two tea-light candles? Somebody needs to put together a diocesan mobile mass kit with a decent cloth that makes the altar look a bit more special and some decent candles. It would have been good to have had a cross for us to focus on... That said, I was very impressed to see Bishop Drainey saying mass with an altar cross...

Perhaps he's been reading "Spirit of the Liturgy"?

So, resolved to read more I have been reading. Not lots but while Ella was away at Stonyhurst and once Leona goes to bed I had more peace and quiet than I've had in aeons. I'm reading The Spirit of the Liturgy by one Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger.

It raises a question and I believe it is a serious question. Which way should the priest face during the mass? Come to think of it... which way should the people face during mass?

Cue scoffing. I sort of half asked why the priest switched direction a while back. We've done this one James... before you were born... we used to say mass "facing away from the people" (ad orientem) and now we say mass "facing the people" (versus populum). The only rational explanation I have been able to aquire is "you are too young to remember it so I must know best". And on an on and ad hominem. If I am wrong about this, perhaps somebody could explain my mistake instead of simply pointing out the difference in our respective ages.

Cardinal Razinger quotes Bouyer:

"Never, and nowhere, before [that is, before the sixteenth century] have we any indication that any importance, or even attention, was given to whether the priest celebrated with the people before him or behind him. As Professor Cyrille Vogel has recently deomonstrated it, the only thing the insisted upon, or even mentioned, was that he should say the eucharistic prayer, as all the other prayers, facing East... Even when the orientation of the church enabled the celebrant to pray turned toward the people, when at the altar, we must not forget that it was not the priest alone who, then, turned East: it was the whole congregation together with him."

Then Ratzinger says himself...

Admittedly, these connections were obscured or fell into total oblivion in the church buildings and liturgical practices of the modern age. This is the only explanation for the fact that the common direction of prayer of priests and people were labelled as "celebrating toward the wall" or "turning your back on the people" and came to seem absurd and totally unacceptable.

...

In reality what happened was that an unprecedented clericalization came on the scene. Now the priest - the "presider", as they now prefer to call him - becomes the real point of reference for the whole liturgy. Everything depends on him. We have to see him, respond to him, to be involved in what he is doing. His creativity sustains the whole thing. Not suprisingly, people try to reduce this newly created role by assigning all kinds of liturgical functions to different individuals and entrusting the "creative" planning of the liturgy to groups of people who like to, and are supposed to, "make their own contribution".

Less and less is God in the picture. More and more important is what is done by the human beings who meet here and do not like to subject themselves to a "pre-determined pattern". The turning of the priest toward the people has turned the community into a self enclosed circle. In its outward form, it no longer opens out to what lies ahead and above, but is closed in on itself. The common turning toward the east was not a "celebration toward the wall"; it did not mean that the priest "had his back to the people": the priest himself was not regarded as so important. For just as the congregation of the synagogue looked together toward Jerusalem, so in the Christian liturgy the congregation looked together "toward the Lord".

But Raztinger (like myself) is not a member of the Traditionalists for the Mass as a Historical Recreation of the Past Society. He continues...

It would surely be a mistake to reject all the reforms of our century wholesale. When the altar was very remote from the faithful, it was right to move it back to the people. In cathedrals this made it possible to recover the tradition of having the altar at the crossing, the meeting place of the nave and the presbyterium. It was also important clearly to distinguish the place for the Liturgy of the Word from the place for the properly Eucharistic liturtgy. For the Liturgy of the Word is about speaking and responding, and so a face-to-face exchange between proclaimer and hearer does make sense. In the psalm the hearer internalizes what he has heard, takes it into himself, and transforms it into prayer, so that it becomes a response.

On the other hand, a common turning to the east during the Eucharistic Prayer remains essential. This is not a case of something accidental, but of what is essential. Looking at the priest has no importance. What matters is looking together at the Lord. It is not now a question of dialogue but of common worship, of setting off toward the One who is to come. What corresponds to reality of what is happening is not the closed circle but the common movement forward, expressed in a common direction for prayer.

I didn't write the paragraph above. The present Pope did. He says that turning to the east is "essential". If I was a priest, I would feel the need to have a bloody good reason for disagreeing. As Cardinal Ratzinger, he encountered some objections and he covers them in his book...

Haussling thinks that turning to the east, towards the rising sun, is something that nowadays we just cannot bring into the liturgy.

Is that really the case? Are we not interested in the cosmos any more? Are we today really hopelessly huddled in our own little circle? Is it not important, precisely today, to find room for the dimension of the future, for hope in the Lord who is to come again, to recognise again, indeed to live, the dynamism of the new creation as an essential form of the liturgy?

Another argument is that we do not need to look toward the east, toward the crucifix - that, when priest and faithful look at one another they are looking at the image of God in man, and so facing each other is the right direction for prayer.

I find it hard to believe that the famous critic thought this was a serious argument. For we do not see the image of God in man in such a simplistic way. The "image of God" in man is not, of course, something that we can photograph or see with a merely photographic kind of perception. We can indeed see it, just as we can see the goodness in a man, his honesty, interior truth, humiliy, love - everything, in fact, that gives him a certain likeness to God. But if we are to do this, we must learn a new kind of seeing, and that is what the Eucharist is for.

A more important objection is the practical order. Ought we really to be rearranging everything all over again? Nothing is more harmfull to the liturgy than a constant activism, even if it seems to be for the sake of genuine renewal.

Here's the part where it gets really interesting. Here's the part that affects us. Now. Today.

Facing east, as we heard, was linked with the "sign of the Son of Man", with the Cross, which announces the Lord's Second Coming. That is why very early on the east was linked with the sign of the Cross. Where a direct common turning toward the east is not possible, the cross can serve as an interior "east" of faith. It should stand in the middle of the altar and be the common point of focus for both priest and praying community. In this way we obey the ancient call to prayer: "Conversi ad Dominum", Turn toward the Lord! In this way we look together at the One whose death tore the veil of the Temple - the One who stands before the Father for us and encloses us in his arms in order to make us the new and living Temple.

Moving the altar cross to the side to give an uninterrupted view of the priest is something I regard as one of the truly absurd phenomena of recent decades. Is the cross disruptive during mass? Is the priest more important than the Lord? This mistake should be corrected as quickly as possible; it can be done without further rebuilding. The Lord is the point of reference. He is the rising sun of History. That is why there could be a cross of the Passion, which represents the suffering Lord who for us let his side be pierced, from which flowed Blood and Water (Eucharist and Baptism), as well as a cross of triumph, which expresses the idea of the Second Coming and guides our eyes toward it. For it is always the one Lord: Christ yesterday, today, and forever.

I don't have anything to add. He has spelled it out. However, one final objection remains. When Cardinal Ratzinger wrote this book he was only a Cardinal and we can ignore him because, you know, it's convenient. Has he said anything telling us to put a cross in the middle of the altar since he became Pope?

Well, a picture is worth a thousand words...

So here's a question... Should we not be doing what the Pope does? If not, why not?

Jeffrey Tucker of the New Liturgical Movement blog (a fine blog) put together a list of ten unknown truths about Sacred Music.

Are they true? Because if they are then somebody should let people know...

The music of the Mass is not of our choosing; it is not a matter of taste; it is not a glossy layer on top of a liturgy. Liturgical music is embedded within the structure of the liturgy itself: theologically, melodically, and historically.

Hymns are not part of the structure of Mass. Nothing in the Mass says: it is now time to sing a hymn of your choice. Hymns are permitted as replacements for what should be sung but only with reservations.

The sung parts of the Mass can be divided into three parts: the ordinary chants (which are stable from week to week), the proper chants (which change according the day), and the priests parts that include sung dialogues with the people.

The music of for the Mass is found in three books: the Kyriale (for the people), the Graduale (for the schola), and the Missale (for the priest).

To advocate Gregorian chant is not merely to favor Latin hymns over English ones, because chant hymns make up only a small portion of chant repertoire. It is to favor a sung Mass over a spoken one, and to favor the music of the Mass itself against substitutes.

Cognitive pedagogy is not the primary purpose of music, so, no, it is not important that all people gathered always and immediately "understand the words."

The music of Mass does not require an organist, pianist, guitar player, bongos, or microphones. It requires only the human voice, which is the primary liturgical instrument.

The Second Vatican Council was the first ecumenical council to decisively declare that chant has primacy of place: "Ecclesia cantum gregorianum agnoscit ut liturgiae romanae proprium: qui ideo in actionibus liturgicis, ceteris paribus, principem locum obtineat." (And ceteris paribus does not mean: unless you don't like it. It means even if chant cannot be sung because of poor skills or lack of resources, or whatever, it still remains an ideal.)

There is no contradiction between chant and participation. Vatican II hoped to see that vernacular hymnody would decrease and the sung Mass would increase. Full, conscience, active participation in the Mass means: it is up to the people to do their part to sing the parts of the Mass that belong to the people.

The first piece of papal legislation concerning music appeared in 95AD, by Pope St. Clement. It forbid profane music in liturgy and emphasized that Church is the place for holy music. All successive legislation has been a variation on that theme.

Flashback one week. "James, On Saturday 20th of October there's a day for Musicians being ran in Scarbrough by Paul Inwood ,do you wan't to go?"

Hmmm. Paul Inwood. I know the name but where from... oh yeah... I pull out Hymns Old and New to find his name in the 'By Author' section. He's not got much to his name in there but that's where I know the name. I do a quick google and one of the pages mentions Introits. "Yeah, okay, let's go to Scarbrough and see what it's like".

Suddenly, it's like Paul Inwood mania.

Fr. Z has gets hold of an email from Paul Inwood about the Motu Proprio allowing the celebration of the old rite. It's not good.

I attach an information piece that is due to appear in the forthcoming issue of our diocesan newspaper. I hope it will clarify some of the issues, particularly as regards our view that the Motu Proprio does not require bishops to provide training for priests or people who may become interested in the pre-conciliar form of the Roman Rite (now described by the Pope himself as "extraordinary" in the sense of "not normative"), but only asks them to make provision for those who have in the past made known their interest in a consistent and organized fashion.

Best wishes,

Paul Inwood

In one of the comments Berenike says:

Paul Inwood is a Haugen/Hass wannabe, if I am thinking of the right man, and I think I am. Vague memories of various Plymouth horror stories are stirring, but I can't remember what they are. Probably as well for my charity levels.

Next, on the Telegraph Blogs Damian Thompson weighs in with 'Is this why Catholics can't sing?'

Paul Inwood has made a fine living composing banal ditties

You can find excerpts from Inwood's music here (click on "compositions"). Warning: your toes will curl. Yet his music has featured in more TV and radio broadcasts of Catholic liturgies than that of any other living composer. And he also sits on the liturgical formation sub-committee of the Bishops' Conference.

...

A typical Inwood tune meanders up and down the scale, jumping the same intervals, supported by droopy harmonies. Many of the melodies are virtually indistinguishable from each other: you could programme a computer to write something very similar. (As an experiment, I have just sung the instructions on a packet of soap powder to an Inwood-style melody – it's very easy to do.)

...

How much money, I wonder, has the Catholic Church spent on this dreary stuff over the years?

Then, the Bishop of Portsmouth decides Paul Inwood's piece won't be appearing in the Diocesan Newspaper after all.

Most recently, it's back to the Telegraph where Damian Thompson is asking awkward financial questions about the Diocese of Portsmouth.

Magnificat publishes Masses that are used by hundreds of churches; many of these works were commissioned by Catholic dioceses. I’d like to know more about the company’s financial relationship – if any – to diocesan organisations in England and Wales.

Presumably, the many liturgical workshops run by Mr Inwood and advertised on the Magnificat website do not overlap with his role as salaried director of liturgy in any way. And presumably all the music sold by Magnificat is written in his spare time. I say “presumably” because Portsmouth has not answered any of the questions I emailed to its director of communications. I cannot even tell you how much Mr Inwood is paid. I also do not know the identity of the diocesan employee who is paid between £60,000 and £70,000 a year, according to Portsmouth’s 2006 accounts.

You can find excerpts from Mr Inwood’s pieces here (click on “compositions”). Incredibly, there is a hugely lucrative market in this liturgical pap, which elderly bishops think appeals to “young people”. But it’s not exactly an open market. When a diocese commissions a new Mass, the list of composers it considers is, shall we say, rather short.

So, lot's going on there then. The Music Day in Scarbrough should be interesting. I'll let you know how it goes.

Here's a resource for all you liturgical music arranging types. If you want to sing the psalm each week but don't have the l337 skills to read gregorian or what have you. Despair not. The Chabanel Psalm Project has all the psalms set to simple melodies based on traditional gregorian chant tones.

Check out this sunday (this sunday (24th Sunday of Ordinary Time) for example.

Now if only someone would do the same for the antiphons.