{Lenten Book Club: The Spirit of the Liturgy}
As promised — and I do believe, in keeping with the mission of this blog, which is to talk about what we want to talk about — we will read The Spirit(s) of the Liturgy as a little book club together this Lent. I will post here exactly as I would talk to you about it if we were together. Please add your questions and comments!
- First, Romano Guardini’s The Spirit of the Liturgy. It’s free, online. You can also purchase it here, although be warned, this edition does not have the footnotes, which stinks.
- Then, Joseph Ratzinger: The Spirit of the Liturgy (yes, same name).
- (When you buy something via our Amazon affiliate link, a little cash rolls our way… just a little. Thanks!)
- I’ll post on Fridays. I’ll give you your homework, I’ll talk about what we read, we’ll discuss in the comments. You can do this study at any point, but if you want to stay current and join in the convo, that’s how it will go.
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Previously:
The Introduction: Escaping Preference
Chapter One: Seeking Universal Prayer
Homework: Read Chapter Five for next Friday
Chapters Three and Four, The Spirit of the Liturgy, Romano Guardini
Chapter Three: The Style of the Liturgy
Since these chapters take the form more of essays on the topic than of one unified development of a thesis, it's not surprising that in Chapter Three, Guardini returns to his main theme: that of universality. The Liturgy must have room in it for every person, while bringing each person to its own, lofty level — which is to say, into heaven itself, for that is where we are when we worship at the Mass! But I get ahead of myself…
He is not speaking of what we would call style, which I think is more like genre or even era, as in Victorian style, or vintage style. He calls its style the way the Church goes about formalizing the creativity that one brings to the Liturgy.
And creative we must be, by our nature. Each place, each sacred artist, each gathering of holy (and not so holy) people ends up expressing what they mean by their worship in material form. The challenge is to make the expression worthy. In a good footnote, Guardini says,
The essence of genius, of the man of genius (e.g., of the Saint), and of the really great work or deed consists in this, that it is immeasurably original and yet is still universally applicable to human life.
It's of course boundlessly amusing that he begins the chapter with a rather difficult exposition, and then abruptly states —
It is unnecessary to waste further words on the subject.
I for one raise a skeptical eyebrow: “Hmm… maybe you could say more, actually” — but let's plow on.
To make his point about style in the liturgy, he contrasts these pairs:
Temple of Paestum; Cathedral of Notre Dame at Reims
Crucifixion by Giotto; Crucifixion by Grunewald
Statue of Khafre; Donatello's St. John the Evangelist
He says that each work on the right here expresses style (in the “narrow sense” he is using it) to a greater degree:
The particular is to a great degree absorbed by the universal and ideal. In such works an involved mental or spiritual condition, for instance, which could only have expressed itself in an abstruse utterance or in an unreproducible action, is simplified and reduced to its elements…
The figure which appears but once [in time] is made to personify characteristics common to the whole of society. The hasty, impetuous movement is restrained and measured.
And I think here we can see that he is speaking of something being “stylized” — or formalized — rather than of it having a particular what we would call “style.” I don't think he is saying he likes one more than the other, mind you, but rather trying to get across what he means by this universal character. What do you think?
More on this later when we discuss sacred art and music with Ratzinger.
For now, consider:
[Modern man] wants to find in prayer — particularly if he is of an independent turn of mind — the direct expression of his spiritual condition. Yet in the liturgy he is expected to accept, as the mouthpiece of his inner life, a system of ideas, prayer and action, which is too highly generalized, and, as it were, unsuited to him. It strikes him as being formal and almost meaningless.
The passage that begins:
Those who honestly want to come to grips with this problem in all its bearings should for their own guidance note the way in which the figure of Christ is represented, first in the liturgy, and then in the Gospels.
… needs to be read carefully. For us, a hundred years later, it's a masterful summation of how the Liturgy offers us the whole Christ — the Christ of the Gospels and He of eternity. Guardini knows our longing:
More than one would be willing to sacrifice the most beautiful liturgical prayer, if in
exchange he might meet Christ face to face and speak to Him from the bottom of his heart.
He explains that anything other than the liturgy — corporate, divine worship — is a man-made “system of prayer” —
… based upon one particular set of hypotheses or requirements, would undoubtedly prove a totally unsuitable form for a content of different origin. Only a system of life and thought which is truly Catholic — that is to say, actual and universal — is capable of being universally adopted, without violence to the individual…
If private devotion were non-existent, and if the liturgy were the final and exclusive form of spiritual exercise, that exercise might easily degenerate into a frigid formula; but if the liturgy were non-existent — well, our daily observations amply show what would be the consequences, and how fatally they would take effect.
Chapter Four, The Symbolism of the Liturgy
The problem of the body/soul relationship is in many ways the central tension of our life as fallen creatures. The Incarnation is the answer, but keeping a hold on it will never fail to be our challenge.
Guardini asks questions:
God is Simplicity; then how is He concerned with specific ritual, actions and instruments?
God is a Spirit–can matter therefore have any significance in the soul's intercourse with Him?
Should it not be the task of all true religion to come to be the “worship of God in spirit and in truth,” and at least to aim at, if not to succeed in, eliminating the bodily and material element as far as possible? This question penetrates deeply into the essence and nature of the liturgy.
In this perennial divide, Guardini outlines two types: The ones who seek to spiritualize worship and reduce it to the “simple word as the most spiritual medium of communication,” and the ones who interpret everything spiritual in terms of the material to the point that they see “every material action as a spiritual experience.”
To give you my own interpretation of these two types: think of those who want the sanctuary to be nothing more than a table and a podium, who offer only calligraphy as sacred art, and who like simple felt banners; then think of those who wish to bring in rocks and plants and water into the sanctuary, who continually think of new images to explain sacred thoughts to children, and who want to decorate for every season, including Lent. And, ironically, who also love simple felt banners! Maybe you yourself fall into one of these categories! It's good to try to understand, then, what a liturgical symbol is and why we would need it.
Guardini: “Both — the sense of cohesion [that the “spiritual” type of person lacks] and the power of discrimination [lacked by the one oriented to matter, Nature, and feeling] — are essential to the creation of a symbol.”
Embedded in his discussion, without explicit statement, is the idea that certain symbols and gestures must develop over time and be respected for that reason (this thought is brought out by Ratzinger). So although he is discussing “creation of symbols” in the present tense, I think he's musing on how it all came about, and wants us to accept, by means of our submission to the Liturgy, the symbols that tradition has given us — that have been created and passed down, not rejecting them out of either a disdain for matter or an eager and fecund affinity for it.
The people who really live by the liturgy will come to learn that the bodily movements, the actions, and the material objects which it employs are all of the highest significance. It offers great opportunities of expression, of knowledge, and of spiritual experience; it is emancipating in its action, and capable of presenting a truth far more strongly and convincingly than can the mere word of mouth.
Lisa G. says
Your take on the two types sounds feasible to me – I was having a hard time understanding quite what he was describing.
Leila says
Lisa, thanks, I hope it’s helpful.
Angelique says
I kept thinking about Shakespeare in his discussion of style…he’s unique and yet universal, but if you try to cut his works to the bone, you destroy the universality.
My favorite part was when he talked about the “earthy” view of Jesus from the Bible being rounded out by the “glorified” presentation in the liturgy…we need to remember the same Church that gave us the Bible gave us the liturgy, it’s NOT some encrustation that can or should be stripped away to get to the “real” Jesus of the Bible.
Leila says
Yes, Angelique — I thought the discussion of Jesus in the Gospels and in the Liturgy was amazing and rang so true to me.
Angelique says
Re ch 4, I struggle the most with finding balance in my home prayers, having never been taught to kneel when I pray, etc. I’m trying to to better with that (just ordered the Little Office and am even considering putting away the “contraceptive candles”!) but it is something I’m taking on faith, not intuitive to me why it should matter (no pun intended!)
Leila says
Angelique, he really is talking about gesture in the Liturgy here, and I think one has a lot of freedom in devotions as to how one will stand, sit, kneel, etc. Some things are what they are, like the Sign of the Cross.
BUT — if you mean it’s a matter of faith for you regarding the inappropriateness of the “contraceptive candles” (i.e. LED “flickering lights”, what our friend Fr. Pokorsky calls them), this gives me a chance to direct your attention to Guardini’s uncharacteristically detailed description of something particular: namely, using candles at prayer (I couldn’t fit it in my post)!
“It is when that form of self-experience which has been described above is extended to objects which lie without the personal province, that the material concrete factor enters into the symbol. Material objects are used to reinforce the expressiveness of the body and its movements, and at the same time form an extension of the permanent bodily powers… ”
“The candle, with its slender, soaring, tapering column tipped with flame and consuming itself as it burns, typifies the idea of sacrifice, which is voluntarily offered in lofty spiritual serenity.
Everything about the candle is a symbol for prayer in the heart of man. And the more you learn about candles, the more true you see it is. For instance, the flame burns and liquefies the wax to the edge of the top of the candle, so that it’s fed and doesn’t go out until the wax is gone, nor does it go out for lack of fuel. There is a balance that occurs there between wax and flame.
The bee has sacrificed her food for our prayer (in the Liturgy, the candles must be mostly beeswax — of course, in day-to-day life usually that’s too expensive and hard to get, but ordinary wax can substitute). In the old “Exultet” at the Easter Vigil, the Liturgy goes into great depth on this subject!
The flame consumes the wax. It’s a sacrifice, as Guardini says — just as our life must be a sacrifice, and our prayer is not a prayer of comfort and ease, but involves something of our selves that we are joining with Christ’s sacrifice.
The flame burns upwards — symbolizing (as does the incense’s smoke) the prayer wafting up to heaven.
And the light is a piece of sunlight — unlike LED light. This is physics, so yeah, but it’s the difference between incandescence and luminescence — hot vs. cold light. The sun gives warmth. The moon, with its cold light, was ever associated with barrenness… (hence the association by some *cough* with contraception!)
An electric light isn’t consumed. It might malfunction… or the battery might wear out. Not much symbolism there to nourish, I fear!
Mrs. B. says
Not sure I followed him properly through the first paragraphs of Ch. 3… it was somewhat obscure. I couldn’t understand why he thought a Greek temple showed “style” more intensely than the cathedral – I agree it makes sense if he means that they are the expression of a more formalized art, in the sense that it makes a heavier use of set symbols and modes of expressions (we would perhaps say the works of art on the right display more the “individuality” and “personal touch” of the artist than those on the left, though I hate to say anything that sounds remotely negative about Giotto!)
The end of the chapter showed well his great understanding of modern man with his need, bordering on obsession, for the spontaneous and the personal (I say obsession because I think we’ve become a bit unbalanced and tend to despise any form of communication, even art, that doesn’t express itself in those terms).
It is good to remember, when he says that personal prayer and liturgy must co-operate and there is no need to pit one against the other, that the Church recognizes it, and even in the communal liturgy there is a space for personal prayer: at the very beginning, when the priest pauses before the Collect prayer and the faithful offer in silence their own intentions (that’s why it’s called the Collect: the priest gathers under the wings of the liturgy our own intentions, if I remember Fr. Scalia correctly), and toward the end, in the thanksgiving after Holy Communion.
Ch. 4 starts with yet more great insight into the modern mind; those are the questions we still hear everyday: what do all these trappings have to do with God? To me this chapter also deals with our modern kind of gnosticism, which makes so many shun Christianity and take refuge in what they consider more spiritual philosophies. The paragraphs about the proper balance of the material and the spiritual are simply wonderful. It’s almost an exercise in self-awareness, in the sense of becoming aware of the symbols we all use without even thinking about it, as when we shake hands upon meeting, or we hug someone in distress. And when he explains some of the symbols in the liturgy, like the candle, we have a great a-ah! moment: so that’s why we do things this way! I love the Church because everything makes sense and everything has a beautiful reason, and even a humble candle can point to Jesus’ sacrifice.
Are these the things that somehow got forgotten, is this what we were meant to re-discover according to the reformists like Guardini and Ratzinger?
Leila says
Mrs. B, I think that when we delve into the Ratzinger it will become more clear why the pictures on the left represent something about “style” that is important to understand. And I keep thinking that I’d love to get ahold of the German and also of someone who knows German 🙂 and see if he means “stylized” more than “style.”
There is no other way to describe today’s prevailing view of the body and worship and creation other than by citing the rise of a Gnostic mentality. Increasingly, we see a scorn for these things *as they are manifested* in the material world — but a fatal adoration of them *as they seem to be attainable in the ideal*. And while the rhetoric is all about detachment, there is an all-too serious attachment to created things that borders on magic — including an attachment to science that transforms it into magic!
In any case, I agree that Guardini here manages, in not many words, to express what the relationship must be in terms of the Liturgy.
Whatever the aims of these liturgical reformers, whatever their motivations and actual achievements, I think these writings will help us understand what *we* need to strive for.
Mrs. B. says
Yes, attachment to science – and I would say attachment to food as well, not with the greediness of the glutton, but by investing food with moral significance in such a heavy handed, improper way (What was the name of the chicken on my plate?)
As usual with error, there is a glimmer of truth, but the Gnostics take things way beyond their proper boundaries.
Mrs. B. says
I guess it’s actually Gnostics, without the article?? 🙂
Marie says
I found this chapter difficult to understand and appreciate your (and other commenters) thoughts. It feels good to exercise my brain even if I’m just sctractching the surface!
Lisa G. says
🙂 I also found it difficult. But I’ve read the next homework chapter, and it’s a delight!
Cathy L. says
I’m glad I’m not the only one who struggled with this week’s assignment (I guess it’s last week’s now). I refuse to give up, though, and I am also enjoying the explanations and comments. Glad to hear chapter 5 is easier 🙂
Leila says
By the way, feel free to comment with a passage that you might find difficult. We can hash it out!
It will be fun.
If you have trouble commenting here (I know that WordPress can be difficult), leave a comment on the Facebook post for the relevant chapter and I can include it here. Or email me!
Nancy says
I enjoyed this chapter very much, although some parts I got and some NOT. After the experience of praying and sharing meals with a group of Benedictine Sisters, I became aware of my bodily gestures during prayer. Also, their reverent treatment of physical objects and care of the environment made me aware of what I buy and bring, into my own home.
Eileen says
I enjoyed the distinction of purpose, and meaning.
I still don’t understand why we have no candles in our church though.
The only ones that are ever lit are the 2 on the altar during Mass. ????
Leila says
Eileen, that’s a good question. I assume you mean votive candles before statues or at side altars dedicated to Our Lady or St. Joseph or the patron saint of the parish.
The candles represent prayer. A person goes and lights a (blessed) candle and says a prayer… then he must go about his business, but the candle remains as an offering and as a continuation of the prayer. Anyone who comes into the church sees all the candles lit and knows that the faithful have offered prayers.
I certainly don’t want to go flip a switch — there’s meaning in the offering being used up, consumed. The candle goes out because it’s all burned away. And of course the light is very beautiful.
At some point the devotion was forgotten. And then there’s liability — what if a fire started, although how a fire would start from votives placed in sand on metal stands on stone floors, I don’t know.