Answered prayers

The Old Mass comes to Bremerton... sort of.

Recovering from his vexation at the awfulness of the ars celebrandi of this morning’s parish Mass, Melancholicus found the following nugget of good news in the St. Charles parish bulletin, dated 17 January 2010:

Traditional Latin Mass: Fr. Derek Lappe will offer a Tridentine or Traditional Latin Mass (Extraordinary Rite) at Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church, in Bremerton, on Tuesday, January 19th at 7:00 PM. The Mass will use the 1962 Roman Missal; Missals with Latin and English, and Mass Propers, will be provided for use at the Mass. Everyone is invited to experience the meaning and spirituality of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. The Church is located at 500 Veneta Ave in Bremerton. Street parking is available around the Church.

After January 19th, the Tridentine Latin Mass will be celebrated the 3rd Tuesday of each month at 7:00 PM.

Hurrah and hurrah! This is indeed a tender green shoot thrusting gingerly up through the frozen crust of the post-conciliar earth. Melancholicus will not be able to attend, alas. Bremerton is hardly any closer to Tacoma than Seattle, and as he does not yet have a Washington driver’s licence, he is confined to the immediate locality. But it is nonetheless a cause for great rejoicing that even in the God-forsaken hell-hole that is the Seattle Archdiocese, life seems to be returning by degrees. Let us give thanks to almighty God, and pray for Fr. Lappe and for Archbishop Brunett.

Melancholicus has no idea whose initiative this is, whether that of Fr. Lappe himself, or of his parishioners. Significantly, Fr. Lappe is the pastor of Our Lady Star of the Sea, where the Mass is to be held. He was born in 1972, hence is the same age as Melancholicus. Through vigorous young priests like this, who have no investment in the ideological baggage of the 1960s, the Church will be restored in the twenty-first century to something of the shape she had before the catastrophe.

There is as yet no mention of the Mass on the website of Una Voce Western Washington (which does not seem to have been updated since 2008). Even though this is not a Sunday Mass and is to be celebrated only on the third Tuesday of each month (requiring careful time-keeping by those who wish to assist at it), it is a beginning; it is a step in the right direction. We note in passing that as a result of this celebration “Everyone is invited to experience the meaning and spirituality of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass”, which is tantamount to conceding that the meaning and spirituality of the Holy Sacrifice are obscured in the modern rite! As the late Michael Davies remarked on more than one occasion, “No one who attends a Mass celebrated in one of the traditional rites of the Catholic Church could doubt that he was present at a solemn sacrifice. But no one who attends Mass as it is said in a typical parish church today could know that he was at a solemn sacrifice unless he had been informed of the fact beforehand”.

Kudos to St. Charles Borromeo parish for publicizing this Mass. There is as yet no celebration of the old rite in Tacoma. Shortly after his arrival, Melancholicus was told of a Traditional Mass in St. Mary’s on 138th st, which caused him great excitement. Upon investigating further, he was disappointed to discover this is not a licit Mass offered by priests in communion with the Catholic Church, but the local base of CMRI, a sedevacantist outfit headed by a Thuc-line bishop (whose orders may or may not be valid). Bally heck, one may as well go worship with the Anglicans.

Mass for the Feast of the Lord's Ascension

The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass (Roman Missal of 1962) shall be offered at 11am this coming Thursday (21 May) for the feast of the Ascension of the Lord in St. Joseph’s church, Newtownmountkennedy, County Wicklow.

The propers of the Mass shall be sung in plainchant.

Low Mass (Roman Missal of 1962) is also offered in the same church every Saturday morning at 11am. Visitors welcome

That was not my Mass

So says Elena Curti, deputy editrix of The Tablet, a journal which (like so many other things in the recent life of the Church) was once a bastion of Catholicism but is now a suppurating carbuncle of error, division and dissent.

As is by now well known across the blogosphere, the target of Ms. Curti’s invective was the traditional rite of Mass in general, and Fr. Tim Finigan in particular.

Happily for all good servants of the Lord, Ms. Curti’s hatchet job seems to have done more damage to herself and to the organ for which she writes than to Fr. Tim. Nevertheless that good priest has been maligned in a grossly offensive manner that at least one observer has considered actionable.

It is no secret that the editorial staff of The Tablet has a special animus against the old Mass. That they have such stems from ecclesiology—they have a different view of the Church and of religion, and probably a different view of God as well, to that which Catholics have always held. The old Mass is non grata in the wonderful, ‘renewed’ Church we currently inhabit because it so clearly expresses the old religion. The preference of the revolutionaries for the new Mass stems from the ambiguity of its ritual, since, given the plethora of options available to the celebrant or liturgy planner and the often sloppy manner of its celebration, the old religion is not as immediately and unambiguously expressed as in the older rite.

Melancholicus would never assert that a mere preference for the new rite constitutes an attachment to heresy, or renders one less Catholic than one’s neighbour. This rite has been normative in the western Church for nearly forty years, and it is no exaggeration to say that the majority of those who still attend Mass today do prefer it. They are accustomed to it, and where religious rites are concerned, long familiarity creates a deep attachment. Many ordinary Catholics have also unconsciously imbibed the propaganda of the liturgical revolution through no fault of their own.

So there is nothing in itself wrong with preferring the new Mass to the old, and Melancholicus would never oppose granting access to the Novus Ordo to those who desire it. Even if ideological radicals such as the likes of Elena Curti wish to attend the new rite every Sunday, so be it, it is not his place to interfere.

But what of those who desire access to the old rite? Should they not also be treated with equanimity?

While a mere preference for the new rite as the Mass to which one is accustomed is blameless, Melancholicus has always thought there is something peculiar about those whose attachment to the new rite is in part a reaction against the old.

They are suspect who wish to suppress the old Mass, or to see it suppressed. Such an attitude manifestly savours of heresy.

They are likewise suspect who, though aware of the old Mass, care nothing in particular for it and would cry no tears if it did in fact vanish, as though it were not a great treasure of the Church that ought to be cultivated and fostered with great care to be handed on to future generations. Such an attitude, while it does not necessarily indicate espousal of heretical opinions, is at the very least a ripe example of cultural and artistic philistinism.

Yesterday Melancholicus so wanted to attend the Mass of Quinquagesima Sunday instead of that for the seventh Sunday of “Ordinary Time”, but it just wasn’t available in his locality.

But he did not exclaim, with the arrogance of Elena Curti, that “that was not my Mass”. While improvements could certainly be made to the state of the liturgy as it is celebrated in these parts, the sacrifice of Calvary is still in there somewhere.

The Mass is the Mass; it is not the plaything of any priest, or layperson, or group of laypersons. It is an Actio Christi, an action of Christ, for He is both the Priest who offers, and the Victim who is offered, that the sins of many might be remitted. This is as true of even the wackiest Novus Ordo as it is of the most solemn and reverent celebration of the Latin Church’s ancient liturgy. The Mass is not a party, nor is it a simple meal, it is an august and solemn sacrifice, even the sacrifice of Calvary itself.

Each one of us knows how liturgical terrorists have obscured the sacrifice by changing the words of the rite and with the signs and gestures and other externals whereof it is composed, in an attempt to make it appear more a celebration of the community, or whatever, rather than an action of Christ. This is nothing less than a blasphemy, since it attempts to obscure a great truth that God himself has revealed to us, and attempts to refuse the greatest gift of all that He has given us. As St. Vincent de Paul said (quoted in the video below), “ceremonies may be shadows, but they are shadows of great truths, and it is essential that they should be carried out with the greatest possible attention”. And that, of course, is why the old liturgy and those who celebrate it are pursued with such bitter and fanatical zeal by our friends over at The Tablet, and elsewhere. The old Mass is unmistakably a solemn sacrifice, Calvary made present on our very altars in an unbloody manner — and that is why they hate it.

The splendour of the new rite?

Last Sunday, XVIIth after Pentecost or in the Novus Ordo calendar the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Melancholicus resumed the practice of fulfilling his Sunday obligation.

This was a consequence of his having been to confession the previous day, whereafter he decided (somewhat grudgingly) to make a clean sweep and obey the precept mandating Mass attendance on Sundays and holy days.

Having consumed a full bottle of wine while watching three episodes of The Wire (season 4) on Saturday night, he was unable to rise in time for the 8am Novus Ordo in the local parish; but this being the site of Judas priest’s denial of the miracle of the loaves and fishes five weeks before, he was not minded to return thither in a hurry.

Last Sunday was also the first Sunday on which choral evensong was offered again in St. Bartholomew’s after the summer hiatus, and driving back to Dublin in the afternoon Melancholicus intended to call into that Anglo-Catholic sanctuary to enjoy its exquisitely beautiful evening office.

And he would have done so, but for a persistent and annoying nagging of conscience which saw him instead stop off, with a sigh, at Sacred Heart church in Donnybrook for evening Mass.

This is a beautiful church; the liturgy, however, was decidedly less so. Mass proceded in much the same manner it has always done. There were no egregious clangers; no formal heresy was preached, no doctrines of the Church were denied, and there were no violations of liturgical norms beyond the institutionalised abuses one invariably finds at even the cleanest celebrations of the new rite. Melancholicus was also able to receive holy communion with a clear conscience. But rather than being relieved that the Mass passed off so well, and being pleased with his relief, Melancholicus was overcome with sadness and heaviness of heart. Sadness that it has come to this; sadness that the public celebration of our holy religion is reduced to the level of the horizontal; sadness that the awesome sacrifice of calvary is obscured, at least in practice, by the atmosphere of a touchy-feely community meet. Nobody seemed to regard the Mass as in any way remarkable, save for a few devout old ladies who still remember the old religion and what this most august and sacred mystery means. Sadness at the sheer unbeauty of it all.

How does Melancholicus presume to judge the attitude of his fellow congregants? Well, as far as exterior demeanour may provide a window onto one’s disposition of soul, the congregation in Donnybrook was typical of congregations all over the western world, wherever conciliar religion has taken hold. There was a great deal of conversational hubbub before Mass began, and again after it had ended. Hardly a soul bent a knee before the tabernacle. Melancholicus was particularly scandalised by a large group of persons who gathered and hob-nobbed in the nave after Mass had ended, talking and laughing volubly as though they were in the lobby of a hotel. The demeanour of not a few for the reception of holy communion is best not discussed; suffice it to say it makes one sad and angry.

The priest nowhere departed from the rubrics, but his adherence to the Cult of Man was so much in evidence it was impossible not to be aware of it. The atmosphere of casual informality was totally out of place; Father spoke like a therapist rather than a priest, warm and fuzzy and with the same disconcerting false friendliness that Melancholicus has observed among store clerks in the United States. One enters a store to buy a pack of cigarettes, or some such; upon which the assistant immediately starts tonguing one’s brown eye with startling vigour (I speak figuratively, of course). Thus, whether consciously or not, Father came across as a man pretending to be everyone’s best friend; he didn’t quite pull it off successfully, however, and the result was vaguely patronising in a certain indefinable manner. What was clear, however, was that the focus of attention was entirely on the interaction between cleric and congregation. God was referred to almost as an aside, when He was mentioned at all. There was a homily after the Gospel; it was bland but otherwise inoffensive. At least this is how Melancholicus used to rate homilies he heard at the Novus Ordo that were not openly heretical, before he woke up to the fact that bland homilies are indeed offensive, though for what they omit rather than what they contain. Last Sunday the lectionary prescribed the reading of Matthew 18:15-20. There is so much that could be said on this text; alone it would have given the apostolic fathers sufficient scope for several dozen sermons. But in church last Sunday we were presented with Jesus as manager, with an analysis of his method of conflict resolution, as though Our Lord were some first-century Judaic Cyrus Vance rather than the Son of the Most High God. While this improbable talk was in delivery, Melancholicus glanced at his watch, aware that he could still make it to St. Bart’s in time for evensong if he left Sacred Heart right away, which led to the bizarre circumstance of his actually hoping that Father would say something heretical so that he could leave. But the excuse never presented itself; the homily was merely the rhetorical equivalent of tinted steam, and Melancholicus ended up staying for the rest of it. After which we had the usual platitudinous bidding prayers—all for justice and world peace and that sort of thing—and announcements of parochial events, wherein we were told that the term of the parish pastoral council had expired and so they were looking for new members.

This is all of a piece with the praxis of the conciliar church, in which the proliferation of a lay-heavy bureaucracy is seen as evidence of growth and vitality. In fact it is nothing of the kind. A tumour in ones lungs may exhibit growth and vitality by trebling its size and spreading to other parts of one’s body, but that is hardly a matter for rejoicing for a person so afflicted. Likewise, Melancholicus cannot find it in himself to approve of the malignant growth that is parish pastoral councils, which do nothing but create busywork and talking shops and divert the most active members of the parish, both clerical and lay, away from the Church’s real mission which is the salvation of souls.

There was nothing especially hateful in the liturgy of the eucharist, but one needed a strong Catholic faith in order to remember what one was doing there. Father read the eucharistic prayer as much to the congregation as to God. After the consecration, we had that improbable hiatus “Let us proclaim in song the mystery of faith” sung to the tune of a ditty. Then followed the extremely tiresome rite of peace in which our Lord’s presence on the altar was forgotten in a miasma of glad-handing and more false friendliness redolent of the store clerk. Finally, though the congregation was not especially large, and as only two extraordinary ministers had come forward, Father informed the congregation that we could do with some help in the distribution of holy communion. Which meant that any person of any faith or none who happened to be present could assume the role of extraordinary minister at their good pleasure. Two persons did so—both women, as might be expected, and they raced up to the sanctuary with unseemly haste; one of them—a young and rather striking blonde—did not even stay until the end of Mass; having enjoyed her few minutes of glory, she took advantage of the opportunity to beat the traffic by rather conspicuously leaving the church before the dismissal. After all was said and done, almost nobody remained to make a thanksgiving for their holy communion; the congregation broke up in a noisy clamour and the doors were choked by fleeing Mass-goers attempting to reach their cars before the rush.

This is the sort of thing that transpires when the church service is all about US instead of being all about God.

It is the Cult of Man with a vengeance.

And so, even though he received Jesus in the most holy sacrament of the altar into his soul in the setting of a tolerably clean liturgy, Melancholicus was saddened, and did indeed wonder if he had done the right thing, or if he ought not to have just gone to evensong in the first place. It is admittedly difficult to discern the notes of the Catholic religion in what goes on in so many churches today, even when no formal heresy is preached and where the abuses are restricted only to those that have become commonplace and accepted.

Melancholicus does not expect the celebration of each and every Mass to be flawless to a perfect degree. But he does expect that the liturgy should evoke a sense of the sacred.

Alas, there was precious little sense of the sacred to be had in Sacred Heart church.

Solemn High Mass broadcast by EWTN

Another motu proprio related post. Melancholicus is delighted to have stumbled at long last upon this great treasure, namely the video of the traditional Latin High Mass broadcast by EWTN on 14th September 2007, the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, and the day on which Summorum Pontificum came into force.



The video may be accessed here. Melancholicus wishes to advise his readers that they must have Real Player installed on their systems if they wish to view.

This Mass was especially significant to Melancholicus, who as a seminarist was once a member of the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter, and who knows personally many of those who participated in this solemn liturgy: the celebrant Fr. Joseph Bisig FSSP, Rector of Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary; the deacon Rev. Mr. Justin Nolan FSSP, who was in the class ahead of Melancholicus; the subdeacon, Fr. Joseph Lee FSSP, who was ordained to the sacred priesthood the year after Melancholicus left the seminary; the preacher, Fr. Calvin Goodwin FSSP, to whom Melancholicus is so deeply indebted for his knowledge of Latin; and others who must honourably be mentioned — head sacristan Eddie Heffernan, from the class behind Melancholicus, and who will one day be a fine priest; also his friends Simon Harkins, from Scotland, Garrick Huang (Canada), deacon Roberto Cano (Nicaragua) and others who Melancholicus suspects were in attendance but could not see clearly owing to the exigencies of camera angles.

What a beautiful Mass. And didn’t the sisters do such a beautiful job of the chant? Mother Angelica was present also; it warmed Melancholicus’ heart to see her finally assisting at the immemorial liturgy in the EWTN chapel, which she has for so long craved.

Now after this nostalgia-tinged sojourn down memory lane, and having wiped his eyes, Melancholicus wishes to recommend the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter and Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary to the prayers of his readers.

Thank you, Most Holy Father, for your motu proprio Summorum Pontificum. Ad multos annos.