IN KEEPING WITH A PROMISE, #2

This is part two of what will be an on-going series, irregularly published, on the nature of the liturgy in the Church. The last essay was about the ways in which the Vatican II Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium (SC, for short) spoke about the presence of our Lord in our worship. This time I want to consider a key phrase from the document (to which I alluded last time): that is the importance of “…that full, conscious and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy” (SC #14).

Paragraph 14 continues, “Such participation by the Christian people…is their right and duty by reason of their baptism. …[it] is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensible source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit…” In other words, this is what you need to do, and no one can tell you that you can’t. Why did the Council Fathers think is this the case?

Previously, in pre-Vatican II worship (especially that of the Mass), there was a serious disconnect: priest and servers (and perhaps choir) were engaged in “performing” the liturgical actions; the congregation might or might not be trying to follow (difficult since the priest’s back was to them, and he was praying softly and in Latin—where was he in the prayers? What was he saying?). Alternatives that were considered proper, back then, were private prayer books or rosaries—something, as it were, to keep the faithful properly occupied until the time of the Consecration and Communion. This was most especially true in the “low Masses” which were said (note the term) during the week.

But liturgy is intended to be (if I may make the analogy from drama) “audience-participation.” I am the more deeply touched, the more I am engaged in the act of worship itself with others. I praise God, and I am also drawn into community. This was the ideal of the early Church (see Acts 2:1; 3:32-37).

The best example I can think of for this kind of engagement is Holy Week, and especially the Triduum itself. It was once something done more or less privately just by the priests; congregations were limited to Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. But think of the power, now, of congregations having feet washed, processing with the Blessed Sacrament to “Gethsemane,” remaining in prayer; think of venerating the Cross; think of the Exultet being chanted by congregational candlelight, catechumens plunging into the font, followed by the words and actions of everyone as we renew our own baptismal commitment. Ask any of our RCIA people if the Triduum was a moving experience for them (literally—for then they moved formally into the Church). You know the answer you will get. They experienced the “fullness” of full, conscious and active participation.

Is every Sunday as intense as the Easter Vigil? No; we know that. But can we enter into the act of worship intentionally, with longing to praise our Savior and give thanks for His Body, both gathered and received? Yes, we can. It is our duty, and it is our right. When Tom and Huck walked down the aisle of the church during their “funeral,” everyone rejoiced at the miracle, and the preacher shouted out, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow! Sing—and put your hearts into it!” And Twain commented that Old Hundredth (the name for the melody of this hymn) swelled like it never had before from that church. This is the final end of “full, conscious and active participation”: to put our hearts into it.