Te Deum by Arvo Pärt

Performed by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir under the direction of Tönu Kaljuste in St Nicholas Church, Tallinn

This piece of music was composed in 1984, but it certainly evokes the echos of the centuries. There are bits that remind me of the best of Palestrina, and there are other bits that seem like pure, unadulterated Byzantium. In all, it is both subtle and sublime. 

Small Parish Church

Last week I was privileged to hear a lecture by Mr. Jim Leggitt, an architect and architectural illustrator who is the author of a book, Drawing Shortcuts, that was one of my constant companions in studio my freshman year. Mr. Leggitt discoursed at length on how modern technologies and hand drawing techniques can be fused harmoniously to create a pleasing result in less time - an important consideration in these times of shrinking building budgets and shrunken firms. This weekend, I used one of the techniques Mr. Leggitt discussed to develop the drawing below. I began with a simple, monochrome SketchUp model. I exported and printed the view from that model. I then added several layers of colored pencil, rescanned the image and then altered it slightly in Photoshop.

The subject matter is a small parish church in a style that attempts to hearken back to the days of the Church's infancy in the Near East. There is something I delight in when I see materials that are visibly strong in some way. I have explored this concept many times over in my various projects in the studio, but I push it into a more traditional idiom here. The arches are massive and they rest on immense piers. The gilded and painted wood beams give a heaviness to the ceiling. The small clerestory windows pierce the thick, rammed earth wall.

We often think of a church's architecture lifting the mind to the things of heaven, but in this example, I have attempted to marry the things of heaven with the things of earth. The sanctuary is traditionally arranged, but the altar is located in a particularly cave-like apse. This was often the case in the early Christian basilicas. But, more than mere architectural precedent, this decision reflects the mystical meaning of the cave in Christian belief. The central act of our redemption - the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ - centers on burial within a rock-hewn tomb. Additionally, we can recall the early Christians worshiping in the catacombs at the martyrs' tombs.

Yet, though the apse is exaggeratedly small, it is the most resplendently decorated portion of the church. A richly ornamented altar (itself often mystically related to the tomb of Christ - His altar of sacrifice) sits in front of a gilded icon of the Holy Trinity, flanked by two angels bearing incense. This arrangement recalls the Ark of the Covenant and the "mercy seat", whose nature has been revealed to us by Jesus.

Though it is perhaps not as visible at this scale, the decorative elements in the nave and the sanctuary are embellished with vines and other plants. This not only evokes Christ as the True Vine encompassing his Body gathered, but it also recalls the garden - the garden of Eden where we lost God's friendship, the garden where Christ's tomb was located where we are given a chance to regain God's friendship, and the garden of the new creation when all things will be restored in Christ.

A note about the chandeliers: I am of the opinion that many churches nowadays are simply dreadfully over lit (and over sound-systemed). If you light everything equally, nothing is emphasized and you lose the dramatic interplay of light and shadow that so often enlivens a space. The hanging lights are of a design common among the Eastern churches, which would provide ample light to the nave and sanctuary for evening services. I think the apse would have some discreet lighting tucked under the arch someplace, but I also like the thought of the soft light of the six altar candles glinting off the gold mosaic.

Why You Should Go to Mass (Illustrated Edition!)

This is a useful graphic reminder about why we Catholics do and should attend mass weekly. The Holy Mass is the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross, offered to God the Father, sanctified by the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a sacrifice offered for four ends: to thank God for all that we have, to atone for our sins, to adore God's magnificent being, and to petition God for our various needs.

In recent times (and perhaps in distant times as well), we have sought to make the mass about us and our therapeutic needs. We have perhaps sought to use mass as a means for making us 'feel good' or as a means to 'rejuvenate our spirit.' These are noble side-effects of a mass prayed well, but they should not be the ends toward which we orient all of our thinking about our worship due to God.

Byzantine dabblings

Recently the combination of heat, humidity, and on-again-off-again thunderstorms have kept our usual stream of customers away from Twisters Ice Cream, my current place of employment. But, as I am now a manager - and thus do not have the luxury of being sent home on slow days - I've been doodling at work to pass the time. Naturally, my drawing schizophrenia turned toward things ecclesiastical.

The results of these doodles are shown below. The image is a section through an octagonal-planned church in a rather Byzantine style. It was inspired by the Basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna and Charlemagne's Palatine Chapel in Aachen. Both of these historic structures predate the East-West split of Christianity known as the Great Schism, which occurred in 1054. As such, they show a synthesis of both Eastern and Western liturgical and architectural sensibilities. The sanctuary, dominated by a simple baldachin and gilded wood reredos, is the most dominated by Western, Romanesque ideals. The domed nave and intricate polychrome stone and mosaic work is more clearly Byzantine in expression.

The nave, as aforementioned, is an octagonal volume crowned by a dome (which would ideally be given some sort of iconographic scheme). A one-story gallery rings the nave and provides access to the sacristy, vestry, entry, baptistry, chapel, and other spaces not shown in this image. The choir is lofted above the main entry, directly opposite the sanctuary. The ambo, depicted to the left of the sanctuary, is based on early Christian designs found in the ancient basilicas of Italy. 

I had no particular dedication in mind for this church, so the iconographic program is left deliberately vague. Ideally, the panels of the 'second story' would be filled with images of various saints, evoking the image of the "great cloud of witnesses" (Heb. 12:1) in mystical union with the congregation gathered below. The penditives (the triangular spaces between the arches and the base of the dome) could be used to depict the four traditional doctors of the Western Church (St. Jerome, St. Augustine, St. Gregory, and St. Ambrose) and the four doctors of the Eastern Church (St. John Chrysostom, St. Basil, St. Athanasius, and St. Gregory Nazianzus). 

As with a previous exercise undertaken last year, this sketch and theoretical design was an attempt at squaring the modern desire for what might be termed a 'grand nave' where the entire congregation can be gathered together in a single space (rather than in a more traditional, disjointed nave-aisle-transept organization), with traditional liturgical orientation and majesty. We don't need all circular or octagonal 'churches in the round' to be bland, whitewashed, conference rooms. There are historical precedents a-plenty for something far more dignified and befitting of Christian worship.

UPDATE: Below are two further drawings of this concept. The first is the main elevation, showing the overall massing of and exterior aspect of the building. The style of the exterior continues the Byzanto-Romanesque aesthetic of the interior, while adding a bit of stylistic flair, particularly in the detailing of the dome. It has a certain affinity with some of Otto Wagner's designs for parish churches in turn-of-the-century Vienna. 

Though the inner dome is hemispherical, the outer dome (as can be seen above) is octagonal, following the walls. The octagonal protrusions to the left and right of the main entrance volume are the chapel and baptistry. Their relationship to the rest of the church can be seen more clearly in the plan, which is shown below.

The plan clearly shows the main volume of the nave, encircled by the one-story gallery. The gallery provides a unifying transitional space for the entire church. The small chapel, suitable for private prayer, Adoration, or daily mass, is to the left of the entrance, and would ideally be separated from the gallery space by a carved screen of some kind. The baptistry balances out the right hand side and continues the octagonal theme. In Christian art and symbolism, the number eight signifies the Resurrection and new creation. Traditionally, this symbolism was applied to baptism - resulting in a number of octagonal baptistries. This proposal maintains this laudable tradition and places the baptismal font three steps lower than the rest of the church. 

All in all, this idea is a fairly ornate one for a small parish, but combines many important aspects of our entire Christian building tradition in both the East and the West.

YOLO and the Wisdom of Solomon

I have written before on the stupidity of the word YOLO and the phrase it stands for (You Only Live Once, for those whose residence is beneath a rock). Of course, it's easy to just get flustered and rant about such philosophical silliness (and we often do), but it's much more important to look at such a phenomenon within the broader context of what ails modern society.

YOLO, whether spoken, tweeted, said in other words, or simply implied, now passes as a rationale for an action. Carpe Diem has apparently become passe, and we as a culture needed a new catchy saying to prop up our foolish spontaneous actions. Carpe Diem, YOLO, and whatever else we think of next, are quite simply indicative of a society obsessed with self and the flimsy psychological notion of self-fulfillment. In our post-Christian world, it is quite easy to convince ourselves that we can come to total fulfillment (whether spiritual or otherwise) through our own actions, independent of any other. This fits in nicely with our Americanized ideals of complete and utter autonomous individualism. But, like the bizarre Calvinism of Lady Gaga discussed in another post, this thought process is simply an old heresy dressed in new clothes.

In this case, we must draw a comparison to the Pelagians, the special nemeses of St. Augustine, who taught that man was born without Original Sin, and thus had the capacity to attain perfection without the grace of God, by simply following the good example of Christ. The not-so-subtle frame shift here is from God to humanity. We become the masters of our lives and set ourselves up as totally self-reliant and self-fulfilling. Echoes of this are heard in YOLO today: You only live once, so why not be reckless, stupid, lazy, lustful, begrudging, etc. You are the master of your life, after all. You are answerable to no one. Enjoy your total freedom!

The Wisdom of Solomon, one of my favorite books of the Bible (sorry Protestants, you're missing out!), opens with the author exhorting his readers to seek and follow the Spirit of Wisdom, which of course comes from God. In the second chapter, there are the following words which quite simply hit this nail squarely on the head.

"For they reasoned unsoundly, saying to themselves, ‘Short and sorrowful is our life, and there is no remedy when a life comes to its end, and no one has been known to return from Hades. For we were born by mere chance, and hereafter we shall be as though we had never been, for the breath in our nostrils is smoke, and reason is a spark kindled by the beating of our hearts; when it is extinguished, the body will turn to ashes, and the spirit will dissolve like empty air. Our name will be forgotten in time, and no one will remember our works; our life will pass away like the traces of a cloud, and be scattered like mist that is chased by the rays of the sun and overcome by its heat. For our allotted time is the passing of a shadow, and there is no return from our death, because it is sealed up and no one turns back.

‘Come, therefore, let us enjoy the good things that exist, and make use of the creation to the full as in youth. Let us take our fill of costly wine and perfumes, and let no flower of spring pass us by. Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither. Let none of us fail to share in our revelry; everywhere let us leave signs of enjoyment, because this is our portion, and this our lot. Let us oppress the righteous poor man; let us not spare the widow or regard the grey hairs of the aged. But let our might be our law of right, for what is weak proves itself to be useless.

‘Let us lie in wait for the righteous man, because he is inconvenient to us and opposes our actions; he reproaches us for sins against the law, and accuses us of sins against our training."- Wisdom 2:1-12

There's just so much to soak in from this passage. It's as though the author had some sort of privileged window on 21st Century America. It shows especially clearly a holistic view of how our current culture has "reasoned unsoundly" and found itself in a variety of philosophical predicaments. Let us progress through some of the more interesting points:

• Reason is a spark kindled by the beating of our hearts - Rather than seeing our reason as a faculty endowed to us by our creator, in union with certain universal absolutes, our culture tends to reason more from personal emotion and feeling, resulting in a bizarre relativism that says that two conflicting viewpoints can both be true.
• Make use of creation to the full as in youth - Disregard for our natural environment is symptomatic of a culture that is self-absorbed. 
• Let none of us fail to share in our revelry - Need I flick on the TV to Jersey Shore? Mindless revelry and a lifeless culture of meaningless relationships and substance abuse is a hallmark of a culture that has lost sight of virtue and fallen into fruitless self-satisfaction.
• Let us oppress the righteous poor man - The plight of the poor in our world is perhaps without equal in all of human history. 
• Let us not spare the widow or regard the grey hairs of the aged - This point has two related aspects - the physical and the mental. We have an increasing disregard for the old in our society. Euthanasia is on the rise because authentic care for the elderly is too difficult. On the other hand, as we continue to dismantle the traditions that bind us together, we insult the wisdom of all of those generations who came before us with a casual sweep of 21st Century pride.
• But let our might be our law of right, for what is weak proves itself to be useless - When might makes right, the weak suffer the most. The most glaring offense in this category is abortion, which perverts the relationship between mother and child into one of power and domination. 
• Let us lie in wait for the righteous man, because he is inconvenient to us - This is only becoming truer by the day. Christ and His Church are inconvenient to society because they often stand in direct opposition to the world and its ways.

Like I said - a lot of good stuff on which to reflect. YOLO is, as I said, a mere symptom of such a society envisioned by the second chapter of Wisdom. A society that has become so absorbed in self it has forgotten both God and neighbor in a whirlwind of revelry, worldly might, and contempt for the truth that sets us all free.

On the Unique Bigness of the Church

I'm working my way through G.K. Chesterton's masterwork The Everlasting Man, in which he describes a general outline of the spiritual history of mankind and how the person of Jesus Christ transformed that history. It is a fantastic work, chock full of Chesterton's political-correctness shattering wit and wisdom. He says something very insightful about the Church and its uniqueness as an institution:

"The Church contains what the world does not contain. Life itself does not provide as she does for all sides of life. That every other single system is narrow and insufficient compares to this one; that is not a rhetorical boast; it is a real fact and a real dilemma. Where is the Holy Child amid the Stoics and the ancestor-worshipers? Where is Our Lady of the Muslims, a woman made for no man and set above all angels? Where is St. Michael of the monks of Buddha, rider and master of the trumpets, guarding for every soldier the honour of the sword? What could St. Thomas Aquinas do with the mythology of Brahminism, he who set forth all the science and rationality and even rationalism of Christianity? Yet even if we compare Aquinas with Aristotle, at the other extreme of reason, we shall find the same sense of something added. Aquinas could understand the most logical parts of Aristotle; it is doubtful if Aristotle could have understood the most mystical parts of Aquinas. Even where we can hardly call the Christian greater, we are forced to call him larger." - G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man, Part II Ch. 2 The God in the Cave

This elegant description of the all-encompassing nature of the Church has echoes in the words of the early Christian theologian, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, who says something similar in his exposition on the phrase "one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church" from the Creed.

"It (the Church) is called Catholic then because it extends over all the world, from one end of the earth to the other; and because it teaches universally and completely one and all the doctrines which ought to come to men's knowledge, concerning things both visible and invisible, heavenly and earthly ; and because it brings into subjection to godliness the whole race of mankind, governors and governed, learned and unlearned; and because it universally treats and heals the whole class of sins, which are committed by soul or body, and possesses in itself every form of virtue which is named, both in deeds and words, and in every kind of spiritual gifts." - St. Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Lectures, Lecture 18 Part 23

The universal mission of the Church is an ever-fruitful source for meditation.

Born Again This Way

One of the more interesting ironies of modern pop culture that I've noticed recently is a very interesting juxtaposition between a sense of deterministic fatalism on one hand and a desire to invent your own meaning in life on the other hand. The first may be boiled down to Lady Gaga's annoyingly pedantic hymn to herself Born this Way. It says something along the lines of: "I was born to do this, this, and this, and I am thus forbidden not do these things." The second might be summarized more neatly by one of those sentimental pictures one sees so often on Facebook. You know the ones - a faded, faux-vintage picture of a beach with superimposed white script imploring the viewer to shake off his or her former personal shackles and live life in exactly the manner he or she sees fit. Another example may be the recent explosion of the phrase "You only live once", cutely shortened to the ubiquitous YOLO (or, more usually, #yolo).

These twin heresies are often espoused by the same people, though not often at the same times, for if they were spoken one after another, we would all be able to readily see that the Emperor is wearing few, if any, clothes. I call them heresies not out of any special contempt, but for the simple reason of that is what they are. Heresy as defined by St Thomas Aquinas is "...a species of infidelity in men who, having professed the faith of Christ, corrupt its dogmas". Notice here that our good St Thomas says "corrupt" rather than jettison the dogmas. Heresy is most usually an unhealthy exaggeration of one truth, which causes corruption in terms of other truths. For instance, the Pelagians over-emphasized the free will of man, and, in the process, denied the need for God's grace. The Arians exaggerated Christ's humanity and swept away his divinity in the process, while the Gnostics did the opposite.

Though my subject matter is not religious or even Christian per se, they are emphatically philosophical, and, like all philosophical matters, have immense bearing on our daily lives. Returning to the first error, which I shall name Gaga-ism: the concept of destiny or a set track for our lives is very convenient for the modern times in which we find ourselves. It excuses us from our actions. If we are meant to be a certain way, woe betide anyone who should call us to higher aspirations. It's a reverse sort of Calvinism dressed down in sparkly camouflage. Why attempt virtue when we are destined and born in vice? It's who we are. 

The second error, on the other hand, enigmatically often calls the modern man to do exactly what Gaga-ism says he can't do - change. It shouts up and down that life is all there is, make of it what you will, don't be burdened by your station in life, society's expectations, or anything else for that matter. Just be you! The implicit argument is that you can't possible truly be yourself while simultaneously adhering to societal norms, morals, or expectations. You can't be who you were born to be, you must utterly and completely disregard all that in the ever-important quest to be authentic, etc. You must live your life (whatever that means). You must seize every opportunity to experience life, even if it is immoral or wrong, because you invent what's right for you, and anything else is simply holding you back from your self-fulfilling quest.

As I mentioned before - this two-headed postmodern philosophical slop often sallies forth from the same people's mouths, though at different times. Some times they say "We can't possibly change because I am me" while other times they say "I must change because I am me." It's all a matter of convenience I suppose. The Christian truth, I'm afraid, is to be found in neither of these pop philosophies, and is frankly far more compelling. It says quite simply that you were born in sin, but called to holiness. It says "I love you as a child of God" and "Go and sin no more" simultaneously. It offers the free choice between good and evil. It fortifies the soul for the long labor of life, whose circumstances we can not often choose on some postmodern whim. It calls the soul to constant conversion toward the truth - not a one-and-done declaration or an obstinate refusal to declare. We can be born again as often as we find ourselves trapped in the way we were born.

Mother Teresa and the March for Life

March for Life 2009, the last time I was able to attend

In the great Catholic moral tradition, taking of any innocent human life is an intrinsic evil. Each human is endowed with an immortal soul and is created in the image and likeness of God. This is the basis of our dignity as human persons. Whenever the source of that dignity is clouded or denied, humanity suffers. This is why I will be in Washington, DC this weekend, taking part in the March for Life. I will be there, alongside a crowd of 300,000 others, firmly witnessing by my presence that all life is sacred - from conception until natural death. We have a responsibility to show love and charity to all of our fellow men - especially the most innocent and helpless among us; the poor, the lonely, the elderly, the unborn. Consider these quotes from Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta on the matter:

‎"Human rights are not a privilege conferred by government. They are every human being's entitlement by virtue of his humanity. The right to life does not depend, and must not be declared to be contingent, on the pleasure of anyone else, not even a parent or a sovereign."

"America needs no words from me to see how your decision in Roe v. Wade has deformed a great nation. The so-called right to abortion has pitted mothers against their children and women against men. It has sown violence and discord at the heart of the most intimate human relationships. It has aggravated the derogation of the father's role in an increasingly fatherless society. It has portrayed the greatest of gifts -- a child -- as a competitor, an intrusion, and an inconvenience. It has nominally accorded mothers unfettered dominion over the independent lives of their physically dependent sons and daughters."

"What is taking place in America is a war against the child. And if we accept that the mother can kill her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another."

"It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish."

Please keep me in your prayers, and say a little prayer for all of our brothers and sisters in Christ - even those yet unborn.

What can happen if we put our minds to it

Projects like this have a way of warming my cold Michigander heart. Check out the before and after pictures of the renovation undertaken at St. Louis Catholic Church in Memphis, Tennessee (borrowed from the New Liturgical Movement). The results, as I think you will agree, are quite magnificent - and inspiring to those of us with interests in sacred architecture. I think the chief success of this project is that the architects didn't overdo the space into something stylistically foreign to the existing structure. The end result looks as though it could have been built in the 1950s, when the church was originally built. Due respect was given to existing geometries and materials, which I think is commendable. Context, as they say, is everything.

If only certain parishes within the Diocese of Grand Rapids (who shall remain nameless) could work up the effort to complete something like this. Beauty is the radiance of truth after all. 

Feed the World (Do They Know it's Christmastime?)

"Behold a virgin shall be with child, and bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel," which means "God with us." - St. Matthew 1:23

It is a startlingly simple verse. In St. Matthew's forthright proclamation, we see the entire economy of salvation in one sentence: God has come to dwell among us, his people. The sentiment is echoed elsewhere, in the Revelation to St. John: "And I heard a great voice from the throne, saying: Behold the tabernacle of God is with men: and he will dwell with them. And they shall be his people: and God himself with them shall be their God" (Rev. 21:3). In both instances - in the first coming of Christ as an infant in a manger and the second coming of Christ as king at the end of time - we see God coming to us. This is the fundamental fact of Christianity: we seek God, and God seeks us.

But, upon further inspection, we see that the work of the Trinity has not confined God to the beginning of the first millennium and the end of days, God is constantly reaching out to us through the work of his Holy Spirit in the Church. Most obviously, His sacramental presence in the Eucharist turns both of these verses into statements of present fact rather than fulfilled and yet-to-be-fulfilled prophecy. Let us consider the Eucharistic dimensions of both circumstances.

In his birth at Bethlehem, Jesus reveals a number of things about his continued presence among his people. Firstly, Bethlehem is a place-name which means "House of Bread", which of course has obvious Eucharistic overtones. Furthermore, the manger must not be overlooked - it was a place where animals came to feed. Are we not animals to one another without the constant grace of God? And, even further, we must consider that Bethlehem was the city of David, the king. Christ is the new and eternal king, who reigns over the universe forever. David had wished to build a proper temple for sacrifice. God would not permit him for he had ruined his purity by waging war. God instead chose Mary, the pure virgin, to bring forth Christ the eternal temple, priest, and sacrifice - Emmanuel. Micah 5:1 proclaims something to this effect: "And you Bethlehem Ephrata, are a little one among the thousands of Juda, out of you shall he come forth unto me that is to be the ruler in Israel: and his going forth is from the beginning, from the days of eternity."

St. John in recording his visions in Revelation describes the new Jerusalem coming down from heaven as a bride prepared for her husband. The wedding feast of the lamb described in the surrounding chapters paints us a picture of perfect communion with the Lamb of God - a communion foreshadowed during each mass when we receive the Lamb of God in the sacrament.

God is not confined by time. By his very nature, God is eternal, and he acts in eternal ways. "Jesus Christ, yesterday, and today: and the same for ever," says the author of the letter to the Hebrews. God, when he came among us as a child in a manger is the same as the God who will establish his communion with us at the end of time in the eternal banquet of the Lamb. This is the same God, who by the power of his spirit, manifests himself in the Eucharist, at every mass, every day, around the world, "from the rising of the sun, even unto its setting."

The oracle of the prophet Isaiah, repeated by St. Matthew, is daily fulfilled: "The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and she shall name him Emmanuel, God is with us." The eternal manna daily comes down from heaven to feed the world, just as it did 2,011 years ago in Bethlehem, and just as it will in the untold future when Christ returns in glory. This year for Christmas, consider all of the blessings God has given us, and take special note of the blessing of the Eucharist - God with us.

Es ist ein Ros entsprungen (Dante and the Virgen de Guadalupe)

One of my favorite songs of the season is the German carol "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen" which is often translated into English as "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming." The second verse, roughly translated into English without poetic license reads:

The rosebud that I mean, of which Isaiah told is Mary, the pure, who brought us the floweret. At God’s immortal word, she has borne a child remaining a pure maid.

Thinking about this song the other day, I thought it particularly appropriate to link the image of the rose described in the lyrics to the feast we celebrate today, that of Our Lady of Guadalupe. To remind you of the story, I turn to the infallible Wikipedia for its narrative of the events:

Two accounts published in the 1640s, one in Spanish and the other in Nahuatl, tell how, during a walk from his home village to Mexico City early on the morning of December 9, 1531 (the Feast of the Immaculate Conception in the Spanish Empire), the peasant Juan Diego saw a vision of a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, surrounded by light, on the slopes of the Hill of Tepeyac. Speaking in the local language, Nahuatl, the Lady asked for a church to be built at that site in her honor, and from her words Juan Diego recognized her as the Virgin Mary. Diego told his story to the Spanish Archbishop, Fray Juan de Zumárraga, who instructed him to return and ask the Lady for a miraculous sign to prove her claim. The Virgin told Juan Diego to gather some flowers from the top of Tepeyac Hill. It was winter and very late in the season for any flowers to bloom, but on the hilltop (which was usually barren), Diego found Castillian roses, and the Virgin herself arranged them in his tilma, or peasant cloak. When Juan Diego opened the cloak before Zumárraga on December 12, the flowers fell to the floor, and in their place was the Virgin of Guadalupe, miraculously imprinted on the fabric.

Roses were instrumental in the miraculous apparition that occurred in 1531. Our Lady has long been addressed by the title of Rosa Mystica or Mystical Rose in the liturgical life of the Church. Dante added his ideas when he described the highest heaven in his Paradiso as a magnificent rose (of which the Virgin Mary had the highest place). This rose was the closest any created creature could come to the presence of God himself.

Now, I am no mystic or philosopher, but I can suspect some reasons as to the rose being such an important symbol throughout history. There is a pious legend that says that all of the roses in Eden had no thorns. The roses we know are very beautiful flowers that are blemished with thorns, just as humanity is blemished with sin. So, the rose, in a way, points to our spiritual journey toward God's presence, where all of our blemishes will be taken away, and we will stand before God's throne as the unique beautiful creatures that we are.

We can be comforted by this thought when we consider God's hand in the "pruning" process. Last week for the mass of the Immaculate Conception, we heard in the Gospel that "nothing shall be impossible for God." If God can be born of a virgin, if that virgin can be created as an unblemished rose, if that virgin can appear to a Mexican peasant to confirm God's presence among his people, what reason have we to doubt the power of God in our own lives? No matter how down we get, or how far away from God we are, nothing shall be impossible for God, if we but let him prune us of our thorns.

Some Novenas

The Catholic Church has a deep history and profound heritage of formal prayer. One form of prayer that is particularly common is that of a novena, which is essentially a nine-day prayer. Quoth The Catholic Encyclopedia:

A nine days' private or public devotion in the Catholic Church to obtain special graces. The octave [eight days] has more of the festal character; to the novena belongs that of hopeful mourning, of yearning, of prayer. "The number nine in Holy Writ is indicative of suffering and grief" (St. Jerome, in Ezech., vii, 24; — P.L., XXV, 238, cf. XXV, 1473). The novena is permitted and even recommended by ecclesiastical authority, but still has no proper and fully set place in the liturgy of the Church. It has, however, more and more been prized and utilized by the faithful. Four kinds of novenas can be distinguished: novenas of mourning, of preparation, of prayer, and the indulgenced novenas, though this distinction is not exclusive.

We bring this to your attention, O Reader, for today, Nov. 30 traditionally begins two interesting novenas: that of St. Andrew, and that of the Immaculate Conception. Since the feast of Mary's Immaculate Conception is celebrated December 8th, many have begun the novena today, so that the ninth and final day of prayer corresponds with the feast day (a holy day of obligation, we must recall). The prayers of this novena can be found here.

The Christmas Novena of St. Andrew is of a slightly different nature. It is not a novena, per se, because it lasts longer than nine days. It begins today, the feast of St. Andrew the Apostle, and ends on Christmas. The form of the novena is the recitation of the prayer below fifteen times each day:

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God! to hear my prayer and grant my desires, through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.

We understand that doing anything fifteen times a day seems like a lot to ask, but, we are positive there are many among us who check Facebook and Twitter much more than this per day. And, really, the prayer is no longer than your garden variety Hail Mary. Incorporating prayers such as these into our daily life can help us to conform our prayer to the mind of the Church and tune us in to the desires God has for us. Advent formerly had more of a penitential character, and in the Eastern Churches it is still observed as a time for fasting in anticipation of Christ's birth. Praying a novena - a regular, disciplined prayer - can be a bit of a small penance to help us on our way toward Christmas. And, any prayer whatsoever during this busy time of passing things can help to keep us grounded in eternal things.

So, we encourage all of you out there to copy and paste the Christmas Novena of St. Andrew (or any other prayer you like) to a little sticky note - or some similar application - and keep it on your desktop of your computer for the whole of Advent. If you are not technologically inclined, write it out on a real sticky note and put it on your real desktop in your room - somewhere you will see it. Rest assured, I will be keeping all of you in my intentions. Best wishes to you for a prayerful and joyous Advent!

It is Right and Just

The world should have ended this weekend. Or so some one would have thought from all of the thousands of words written on the changes that occurred in the translation of the mass. Catholics everywhere were supposed to have experienced "ritual whiplash" and "gross discomfort" with the changes and revisions that went into full effect this weekend. However, in my personal experience, none of this predicted chaos occurred. For as opposed as Catholics are to change, no babies cried, no women wept in the streets, no one was mangled, dismembered, or otherwise hurt. Things were a bit bumpy in spots (a few reflexive "And also with you's" instead of the new "And with your spirit"), but when isn't there going to be a bit of an adjustment when you change something that holds millions of English-speaking Catholics together. On the whole, things went rather smoothly.

A bit of background for those readers who are utterly baffled at what the above paragraph means. In 1970, in the wake of the reforms of the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), Pope Paul VI issued texts for a revised mass for the Roman Rite (approximately 99% of the world's Catholics). These texts were promulgated in Latin, the official language of the Church, and were subsequently translated into vernacular languages. To cut straight to the chase, the translation of the Mass of Paul VI into English was rushed and a bit shoddy. Phrases and responses that had been a part of the Church's liturgical worship for centuries were mistranslated or mangled beyond recognition, scriptural allusions which provide a direct link to God's word were clouded, and so forth. The original English texts were supposed to be a temporary holdover until better translations could be implemented. As we now realize, this temporary holdover ended up being about forty years. This weekend marked the first time that the revised Roman Missal was put into use around the English-speaking world.

I am of the firm belief that the revised and properly translated mass will ultimately be a good thing for the Church in the English-speaking world. The way in which we worship communally is tremendously important - it is in the context of this worship that God Himself becomes present in the Most Holy Sacrament. Subsequently, the words that we use in the context of our liturgy must be proper to this miracle. The revised translation is much more proper, even elegant and poetic, than the now outdated texts. I was previously a fan of the Roman Canon (the oldest of the four Eucharistic prayers) because it was the most reverent in my opinion. This past weekend, our priest said Eucharistic Prayer IV and I was blown away at the change! It has become quite an elegant prayer, to say the least.

All in all, yes it will take time to adjust to some of the new phrases, yes there may be a few missteps along the way, but this is change we can truly believe in (to borrow and adapt that soiled phrase). And, to borrow from the mass itself, it is truly right and just.

The Crystal Cathedral is Converting

There is perhaps no greater symbol of American Evangelical mega-churchmanship than the bombastic Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California. It is interesting to note, then, the recent news that the Crystal Cathedral has been sold to the Roman Catholic Diocese of Orange, for eventual use as the diocese's new cathedral. It seems that the operator of the building, Crystal Cathedral Ministries, had gone bankrupt and needed to sell their property and building. At the same time, the Diocese of Orange was in great need for a larger cathedral. So, the acquisition of the property is fortuitous for both parties involved.

As a student of architecture and a critic of modernism, I tend to dislike the building itself. It is impressive structurally, and the spire is quite nice, but it will take a lot of work (and apparently several million dollars) to renovate the cavernous, auditorium-like space into something appropriate for Catholic worship. But, if the Church can turn the pagan Pantheon into a suitable place for the mass, I have no doubt that a temple to modernism and Evangelicalism can likewise be converted.

Christ the King, an Inconvenient Truth

Today is the solemnity of Christ the King, the final Sunday of the liturgical year. This feast is an agreeable time to meditate on what it means to be the subjects of the king of the universe, Jesus Christ. In some sense, especially to us emancipated moderns, the notion of Christ as a king is a bit of an inconvenient truth, if I may use that overwrought phrase. We can deal with Christ the Good Man, Christ the Mystic, Christ the Liberator, Christ the Nonviolent, Christ the Fill in the Blank. And, to some extent, Christ was all of these things. Yet, he is and will always be a king. And we tend to cringe at that. Kings mean authority, law, and obedience - words that are not particularly well-liked in our culture of libertinism.

Christ, however, gives us a perfect model for all three. He is perfect authority himself. He is the Word of the Father made flesh and given authority over all things. He is omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, and perfectly merciful and just. Imagine if an earthly king possessed each of these characteristics! His kingdom would be overflowing with people. Christ is also the perfect lawgiver, the new Moses, who has seen God face to face. His law is true and extends over the whole world. It is neither an oppressive nor an easy law, but truth is never either of these things. And, finally, Christ is obedient. Obedience requires humility, of which Jesus is the paramount example. The qualities I have described above are true qualities of Our Lord, and they speak to his majesty and power. Yet, he also possessed the even stronger power to humble himself of these qualities and become a man, and suffer, and die as a finite man in a historical world - just like the rest of us. This is a king that I can follow.

As members of Christ's Body, we are each called through the virtue of our baptism to be loyal subjects to our King. Each day we are given the opportunity to respect and obey His authority and law, so that we might someday be called home to reign with him in his everlasting kingdom.

As I hinted before, these are inconvenient pills for us prideful moderns to swallow. We prefer lawlessness. We like to set ourselves up as our own kings in our own lives. As I read in a recent New York Times article concerning the recent troubles at Penn State, the reason we were so outraged with the persons in power there is that we are all "convinced of our own interior wonderfulness." We get so absorbed in how awesome we all are, fed by a culture that is hesitant to reprimand anyone, that we lose sight of the fact that each of us is a sinful person, capable of falling - and falling hard. Once we reject the idea that we are God's gift to mankind, we can get back on track following God's true gift to mankind - Himself.

The Festival of Your Holy City

All Saints Day, a holy day of obligation, was observed throughout the Catholic Church today. Through our celebration of the great cloud of witnesses (c.f. Hebrews 12:1) who have gone before us in faith, we can be inspired to lives of greater personal sanctity. As our priest remarked during the homily this evening, "Each saint took a unique path of holiness toward God's presence." If we take the time to learn about the lives of the saints, we can begin to understand that no path is more holy than another: we can lead holy lives in even the most ordinary circumstances.

However interesting that subject may be, it is not the focus of this post. The chief idea that struck me about the mass of All Saints was how our liturgical prayers are shaped directly by scripture. The first reading was taken from the book of Revelation and read thus:

I, John, saw another angel come up from the East, holding the seal of the living God. He cried out in a loud voice to the four angels who were given power to damage the land and the sea, "Do not damage the land or the sea or the trees until we put the seal on the foreheads of the servants of our God." I heard the number of those who had been marked with the seal, one hundred and forty-four thousand marked from every tribe of the children of Israel. After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice: "Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb." All the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They prostrated themselves before the throne, worshiped God, and exclaimed: "Amen. Blessing and glory, wisdom and thanksgiving, honor, power, and might be to our God forever and ever. Amen." Then one of the elders spoke up and said to me, "Who are these wearing white robes, and where did they come from?" I said to him, "My lord, you are the one who knows." He said to me, "These are the ones who have survived the time of great distress; they have washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb." - Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14

In this passage we receive a glimpse of heavenly worship. The object of worship is the Lamb of God, who is seated in majesty on the throne. Around the throne are people gathered from "every tribe of Israel". Again, as we remarked in yesterday's post, we can discern the connection between God's people of Israel and the Church instituted by Christ. There are people from all over the world who had been gathered into Israel, and are worshipping in the heavenly Jerusalem.

We Catholics believe that the worship described in Revelation is the eternal liturgy of heaven. The mass, the liturgy on earth, is mystically united with the liturgy in heaven by the eternal sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross, which gained salvation for humanity. Imagine my delight, then, when during mass we reached the preface of the Eucharistic prayer (the prayer that comes immediately before the "Holy, Holy, Holy" and changes with the day):

Today we keep the festival of Your holy city, the heavenly Jerusalem, our mother. Around Your throne the saints, our brothers and sisters, sing Your praise for ever. Their glory fills us with joy, and their communion with us in Your Church gives us inspiration and strength as we hasten on our pilgrimage of faith, eager to meet them.

The Church is truly universal. The saints in heaven whom we honor today are truly our brothers and sisters. Christ has but one body and it spans earth, purgatory, and heaven. This is what is meant by the phrase "communion of saints" and the concept helps us understand prayer to the saints, and prayer for those holy souls in purgatory - we are all one, and we all must pray for each other, as St. Paul recommends (c.f. 1 Timothy 2:1).

These doctrines, though taught by the Church, may not have been as apparent to me had I not connected it with how we were worshipping during mass. What we say and hear during mass aside from the Scriptures adds layers of insight to what we hear proclaimed in the Scriptures. This is why what we say and how we pray communally is important - it reinforces the revelation of God. I have heard a few complaints about the revised translation of the mass that will go into effect in a few weeks. However, it is my firm belief that this revision will make the biblical basis of our worship so much clearer, and will thus strengthen the connection between prayer and Scripture in rich and meaningful ways.

The Unity of the Church

This past week, I went to a Bible study held by architecture students. I believe, though am not entirely sure, that I was the only Catholic in attendance. This was an interesting situation; as my frame of reference for scripture is so different than a non-Catholic's. We are studying St. Paul's letter to the Philippians. We got to chapter 1, verse 27, which reads (emphases mine):

"Only let your conversation be worthy of the gospel of Christ: that, whether I come and see you, or, being absent, may hear of you, that you stand fast in one spirit, with one mind labouring together for the faith of the gospel."

The discussion soon turned to Paul's exhortation that the Philippians remain in one mind and one spirit, and we were reminded of Jesus' prayer at the Last Supper that all of his followers might be one. The group then began saying how all Christians should be united in the gospel. I couldn't help but notice the irony in their statements. There are thousands of Protestant denominations throughout the world, with no one denomination teaching exactly the same thing as another. This is the great tragedy of Protestantism: once one has removed the Pope, one becomes a pope unto oneself. That is, if one person is allowed to interpret the gospel as he sees it, he will naturally come into conflict with someone else who disagrees with his interpretation. This leads to disunity, not unity. This is not what Jesus wanted. He wanted (and Paul reminds us) his followers to be in one spirit and one mind. There is only one body of Christ.

The early Fathers of the Church understood this fact well. Here follow some of their statements on the unity of the Church, and its nature throughout the whole world.

"As I have already observed, the Church, having received this preaching and this faith, although scattered throughout the whole world, yet, as if occupying but one house, carefully preserves it. She also believes these points [of doctrine] just as if she had but one soul, and one and the same heart, and she proclaims them, and teaches them, and hands them down, with perfect harmony, as if she possessed only one mouth. For, although the languages of the world are dissimilar, yet the import of the tradition is one and the same. For the Churches which have been planted in Germany do not believe or hand down anything different, nor do those in Spain, nor those in Gaul, nor those in the East, nor those in Egypt, nor those in Libya, nor those which have been established in the central regions of the world. But as the sun, that creature of God, is one and the same throughout the whole world, so also the preaching of the truth shines everywhere, and enlightens all men that are willing to come to a knowledge of the truth. Nor will any one of the rulers in the Churches, however highlygifted he may be in point of eloquence, teach doctrines different from these (for no one is greater than the Master); nor, on the other hand, will he who is deficient in power of expression inflict injury on the tradition. For the faith being ever one and the same, neither does one who is able at great length to discourse regarding it, make any addition to it, nor does one, who can say but little diminish it." - St. Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1.10:2

"It is called Catholic then because it extends over all the world, from one end of the earth to the other; and because it teaches universally and completely one and all the doctrines which ought to come to men's knowledge, concerning things both visible and invisible,heavenly and earthly ; and because it brings into subjection to godliness the whole race of mankind, governors and governed, learned and unlearned; and because it universally treats and heals the whole class of sins, which are committed by soul or body, and possesses in itself every form of virtue which is named, both in deeds and words, and in every kind of spiritual gifts." - St. Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Lectures, 18:23

"It follows after commendation of the Trinity, The Holy Church. God is pointed out, and His temple. For the temple of God is holy,says the Apostle, which (temple) are you. This same is the holy Church, the one Church, the true Church, the catholic Church, fighting against all heresies: fight, it can: be fought down, it cannot. As for heresies, they went all out of it, like as unprofitable branches pruned from the vine: but itself abides in its root, in its Vine, in its charity. The gates of hell shall not prevail against it." - St. Augustine, Sermon to Catechumens on the Creed, 14

It seems to me that in these three examples, the leaders of the early Church understood unity well. They knew that Jesus desired all of his followers to remain in the Church that he established, "So that from the rising of the sun to its setting, my name is great among the Gentiles, and in every place there is a sacrifice and there is a clean oblation offered to my name; for my name is great among the Gentiles, says the Lord of hosts." (Malachi 1:11)

Our Lady of Sorrows

Last night at Bible study, we were discussing the sufferings of Christ on the Cross, and his endurance of all human suffering in that hour of his death. This was sort of a happy coincidence, since yesterday was the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, when the cross itself is celebrated as the instrument through which God chose to grant us his salvation. It is perhaps fitting, then, that the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows follows the feast of the Cross, and is celebrated today.

Consider the point of view of Christ's mother during his ordeal. Mary was powerless to protect her son, resigned to see him tortured and brutally killed, yet she was there, showing her maternal love, at the foot of the cross. In that moment of his death, she truly was a Lady of Sorrows - sorrow for both her son's immediate death and sorrow for the sins that placed the pain upon him. In that hour, the prophecy of Simeon was fulfilled: "Behold, this child is set for the fall and resurrection of many in Israel and for a sign which shall be contradicted. And your own soul a sword shall pierce, that, out of many hearts thoughts will be revealed" (Luke 2:35).

So, at the foot of the cross, Mary suffered in relation to her son. Her soul was pierced with a sword of suffering. Perhaps the figurative sword was the pain of seeing the effects of sin, since she was so detached from it (often, we cannot even begin to grasp the profoundly damaging effects of sin). In any event, Mary as Our Lady of Sorrows gives us a phenomenal icon of hope, even in suffering. Though her heart was pierced with a sword of pain, Our Lady never fell into despair - for despair is the very opposite of Christian hope.

I think despair is more prevalent today than in other times. With all of our advancement in technology and knowledge, I think we are tempted to despair that all of it is for nothing - that the world is meaningless and our lives are just as meaningless. Despair kills charity and removes joy. But, even should we suffer the piercing swords of despair, doubt or suffering, we need only remember Our Lady of Sorrows, and her eventual transformation to Our Lady of Joy through the saving power of her Son.

*    *    *

The painting is one of the most moving I've ever seen of the Madonna and her Child. It was painted by the French artist Adolphe Bourguereau and is entitled "Our Lady of Sorrows."

Church in the Round

One of the unfortunate developments in Catholic architecture since the Second Vatican Council has been the proliferation of churches designed with seating in the round. This switch-up has very little precedent in liturgical architecture - with even the members of the early church all facing the same way in their celebrations of the mass - and it causes not a few theological problems. Speaking from experience in worshipping in some of these churches, one can tend to become more distracted when you are facing other members of the congregation across the way, with the altar merely as a point between the two sides.

This is not to say, however, that there were never round churches prior to 1963. Quite the contrary: there is a rich tradition in the Western Church of round buildings for worship. One need only peruse one or two Italian cities to discover a few circular churches. The thing to recall about these churches, however, is that they placed the altar at one end of the circle, rather than in the center. This preserved the processional nature of the mass and the theology of pilgrimage toward God's dwelling place.

So, in light of that tradition of church architecture, I engaged in a bit of circular church design myself (you knew that was coming). Aesthetically, this church is based vaguely on the Baroque churches of Paris and the splendid Marmorkirken in Copenhagen. The plan is a cylindrical center fused with a Greek cross producing four equal wings. Each wing has a certain purpose: the sanctuary is in one wing, the narthex in another, a chapel in one, and a sacristy and vestry opposite. The pews are all arranged rectilinearly, facing the altar, with the tabernacle behind it.

As ever, click the image to view larger.

Isaiah's Trip to Purgatory

We will continue our little adventures in Biblical interpretation with a look at the oft-unpopular teaching of the Church regarding purgatory. Purgatory, says the high school history teacher, was an invention of the Medieval Church used to control people's access to the afterlife by preying on their fears and superstitions. Blah de blah de blah de blah. Of course, reality often runs contrary to the blithering of well-intentioned - but misinformed - high school teachers. So, in order to get ourselves back on course, we shall begin with a few relevant excerpts from the Catechism of the Catholic Church - straight from the horse's mouth (a very large, two thousand year old, splotchy horse). Emphases mine.

1030 All who die in God's grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.

Let us focus especially on the last sentence of that paragraph. Heaven is defined as the soul's eternal life in the presence of God. God is all-holy and all-perfect. In order to be in the presence of God, we too must be all-holy and all-perfect. Let us look at the scriptures for some evidence:

"Speak to the whole Israelite community and tell them: Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy." - Leviticus 19:2

"Strive for peace with everyone, and that holiness without which no one will see the Lord." - Hebrews 12:14

Clearly, as these passages point out, we are called to holiness in this life. Of course, we often miss the mark and fall into sin. Christ is the way out of sin and back on track (through the graces of confession), but we sometimes still have to suffer the effects of a sin that has been confessed (in a case of adultery for instance). We are often still far away from God and his holiness, even when God's mercy has restored our relationship to him. This is where the doctrine of purgatory has its roots: we need to be completely purified, of both the spiritual and temporal consequences of our sin before we can stand in the presence of a God who is perfection.

The title of this post refers to an episode that occurs early in the book of the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah is being called by God and has a vision:

"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifter up; and his train filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim; each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; and the whole earth is full of his glory." And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. And I said: "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then flew one of the seraphim to me, having in his hand a burning coal which he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth, and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin forgiven."" - Isaiah 6:1-7

In this passage we see the entire notion of purgatory played out, as it were, before the fact of Isaiah's death. Isaiah's vision is of God in glory in heaven (the temple), surrounded by the seraphim who are shouting to one another about God's triune holiness. Isaiah senses his unworthiness to be in the presence of God both for having unclean lips and for even living among those with unclean lips. God, in his mercy, sends a seraphim with a hot coal that purifies - or purges - Isaiah's tongue and takes away both his sins and the guilt of his sins. Isaiah is then allowed to stand in the presence of God.

We can hope for a similar outcome at the time of our deaths. We know Isaiah was not in mortal sin, for he was favored by God with the gift of revelation of prophecy. However, even a prophet, a holy man of God, was not worthy to stand in the presence of God without being cleansed by fire from the temple. Even if we receive God's mercy through confession and are reconciled to him through the power of the Cross, we still have guilt and sadness and suffering because of our sins. How happy for us that all of this will be taken away by the cleansing fires of purgatory so that we may stand before God unblemished and holy as he is holy.