{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
Chapters Three and Four: The Style and Symbolism of the Liturgy
Homework: Read Chapter Six for next Friday — it's a short one (ha! I keep saying that) and we can also recap any lingering questions before tackling the big Logos chapter coming up — super exciting!
Chapter Five: The Spirit of the Liturgy, Romano Guardini
The Playfulness of the Liturgy
A couple of notes before we start:
I really wanted to read Joseph Ratzinger's Spirit of the Liturgy here on the blog (and so we shall, probably during Easter and beyond!). After reading with a group of friends, I realized that right off the bat, there was a reference, the opacity of which was going to thwart understanding unless we read this book (and chapter) first.
Originally, I thought that I just needed the reference — to this playfulness, which seems so odd — and that would be that. But when I read the whole of this Guardini book, I realized, no, we just had to read this one too.
Thus, the quixotic adventure of reading not one but two books on liturgy, right here on a blog where you can also find out exactly how to clean your cast iron pans and plan a nice wedding reception.
So remember this chapter when the day comes that we crack open Ratzinger's tome.
Also — this chapter could certainly be read with great profit simply to gain insight into childhood and the meaning of play. By extension, one could derive immense wisdom from contemplating the beauty of the vocation that allows children to be children. I wouldn't discourage you from reading it all over again just to meditate on what play is in this context, apart from the philosophical importance we will observe.
A final point: you may not have the first footnote if you aren't reading online. In it, Guardini pleads: “In what follows the writer must beg the reader not to weigh isolated words and phrases. The matter under consideration is vague and intangible, and not easy to put into words. The writer can only be sure of not being misunderstood if the reader considers the chapter and the general train of thought as a whole.”
A river runs through my little town, with many little branches meandering off of it. Hence, the roads feature many little bridges. The town isn't fancy at all, although it is very old. It does have its share of old oaks, Colonial houses, and quaint town center with historic church. I don't mean to romanticize it; it's modest by New England standards — it's no Concord or Lincoln. Here you will find just an old garrison erected against the Indians (who did prevail for a time, but that's another story).
Anyway, you can imagine that these bridges cost the town a lot to build and maintain. They have a purpose, which is to enable travelers to get from one part of the town to the other. But they also have meaning apart from that purpose, because they define our place in a way, giving it what would be termed character; but which really means its essence, not really planned, exactly, but just arising out of what is given.
Surely the materials used to build the bridges also arose out of an intersection of need, budget, and availability. I've thought about these bridges a lot, and I don't think that anyone put a huge amount of effort into making them beautiful (I could be wrong — they could represent the very best that the available bridge architects could muster, but I don't think so — I think they are more workmanlike than that), yet they do have a charming quality. And they are not particularly old, most of them. They get the job done (getting you from one side of the water to the other), but not without contributing, in their way, to an overall ideal of what the town means to express about itself (which, again, might not be of the very highest order).
Here are a few pictures of the “old” bridges — but you can see that they are not very old — in fact, the concrete one on the left was built in 1996, so is even newer than the one on the right, which is made of metal:
Not to clutter up this post with bad pictures of unremarkable bridges, but perhaps this one photo on the right gives you the idea of how necessity — function, purpose — required a little more safety, and “they” — whoever “they” are who, unbeknownst to themselves, end up shaping the way the town feels — added galvanized steel guardrails.
But then, one of these lesser, unoffensive, modest, oddly harmonious structures just collapsed after a flood a few years ago, and, well, we were suddenly all-in on galvanized steel guardrails:
I think you can see, even from this mediocre photo, that “meaning” is lost completely, and only “purpose” remains. And something is gone, is it not? Or even, let's put it this way, something is not expressed.
Guardini begins this chapter with the observation that some people can't wrap their minds around why we do not simply take the direct route to accomplishing a goal. The question leads directly into perhaps the most important issue in philosophy, which is what is the good. To discover the answer, we see that some things are good, but they exist for the purpose of something else. So they can't be the highest good.
This is hard for us to understand, because we live in an age where striving, working, and exerting the will hold the highest place of honor. Guardini is showing us that the Church has this side: the laws, the structure, the energy:
The life of the Universal Church is also organized on these lines. In the first place, there is the whole tremendous system of purposes incorporated in the Canon Law, and in the constitution and government of the Church. Here we find every means directed to the one end, that of keeping in motion the great machinery of ecclesiastical government.
John Paul II, in his letter on the Meaning and Vocation of Woman, calls this the Petrine (after St. Peter, a man) model of the Church.
But Guardini goes on to say,
The Church, however, has another side. It embraces a sphere which is in a special sense free from purpose. And that is the liturgy.
John Paul calls this the Marian model of the Church (after the Blessed Virgin Mary, a woman). He quotes, in a footnote, Hans Urs von Balthazar, who points out that Our Lady, who was the Queen of Apostles (that is to say, the ruler of the Petrine model) was not herself an apostle, because she has other and greater powers. I believe that this chapter is an attempt (before the fact) to explain what those higher powers are — that is, to show that the good which exists for its own sake is higher than the good which exists for the sake of other things.
Only that which exists for itself — which has no purpose outside of itself — must be the highest good. And that thing will have no purpose, but it will have meaning.
All of this discussion is to give the groundwork for understanding how it is that the Liturgy can be said to be playful, which seems like an odd thing to say.
But consider: rather than lay out a system (which seems so much more practical to some), the Liturgy is a world.
The liturgy wishes to teach, but not by means of an artificial system of aim-conscious educational influences; it simply creates an entire spiritual world in which the soul can live according to the requirements of its nature…
And here, perhaps, it's appropriate to insert footnote 4: “The fact that the liturgy moralizes so little is consistent with this conception. In the liturgy the soul forms itself, not by means of deliberate teaching and the exercise of virtue, but by the fact that it exists in the light of eternal Truth, and is naturally and supernaturally robust.” I think we can understand this if we think of that classic question, “Who would you have dinner with if you could pick anyone?” We choose someone we just want to be with; we have no thought that the person would give us a lecture! Far from it.
The liturgy creates a universe brimming with fruitful spiritual life, and allows the soul to wander about in it at will and to develop itself there.
The liturgy has no purpose, or, at least, it cannot be considered from the standpoint of purpose… When the liturgy is rightly regarded, it cannot be said to have a purpose, because it does not exist for the sake of humanity, but for the sake of God.
He goes on to quote from Scripture, from the two most important books about worship, Revelations and Ezekiel. I love how he shows us how “pointless” the actions of the angels are! “Pure motion,” “splendid,” “the living image of the Liturgy.” And further, “I was with Him… playing before Him at all times, playing in the world…”
Because, you see, in our world, there are paradoxically “two phenomena which tend in the same direction: the play of the child and the creation of the artist.” I say paradoxically because I think most of us would put those phenomena in opposite categories, perhaps “silly” and “serious” or “pointless” and “lofty.” But Aristotle did not agree with us, nor did Aquinas.
I can't help quoting this bit, for the sake of liturgical discussion but also for the sake of parenting: “[Play] will be beautiful, too, if it is left to itself, and if no futile advice and pedagogic attempts at enlightenment foist upon it a host of aims and purposes, thus denaturizing it.”
Ultimately, we have to see that God created us for His delight. Go re-read Genesis Chapter One and see if I'm right! Delight in contemplating what is good is the Seventh (and then the Eighth, Heavenly) Day, which we are told to keep holy. It is worship!
The liturgy offers something higher [than chopped logic or instruction and good advice]. In it man, with the aid of grace, is given the opportunity of realizing his fundamental essence, of really becoming that which according to his divine destiny he should be and longs to be, a child of God.
The other day I laughed at myself for stinting the birds, out of sheer late-winter blahs. But the truth is, the birds don't need my little feeders! I feed them so I can delight in them. I make them come near me so I can enjoy them. I don't know if they long to be my birdies, but that is how I look on them! Now, we need God's food (which is Himself!), but He doesn't need us — He only wants to delight in us.
Now we come to the “serious rules” of the title of this post. Just as the child spins out myriad rules about the lines and the squares and the sticks and the stones (and I do love Guardini's discussion of the child's play, in case you couldn't tell — I hope it isn't lost in our busy times), just as the artist “take[s] upon himself the thousand anxieties and feverish perplexities incident to creation,” so the Liturgy,
with endless care, with all the seriousness of the child and the strict conscientiousness of the great artist, has toiled to express in a thousand forms the sacred, God-given life of the soul to no other purpose than that the soul may therein have its existence and live its life. The liturgy has laid down the serious rules of the sacred game which the soul plays before God. And, if we are desirous of touching bottom in this mystery, it is the Spirit of fire and of holy discipline “Who has knowledge of the world” — the Holy Ghost — Who has ordained the game which the Eternal Wisdom plays before the Heavenly Father in the Church, Its kingdom on earth. And “Its delight” is in this way” to be with the children of men.”
Note well that he reminds us that we ourselves must become “works of art” — that is, holy — for God, and consider how that production as well might entail “serious rules.”
We will pursue the idea of what form beauty (the play of Liturgy) takes when we discuss Ratzinger, so let's leave it at that (I can assure you that Guardini is not calling for liturgical dance!). And lest you get in a panic, the next chapter is about the seriousness of the Liturgy!
The soul must learn to abandon, at least in prayer, the restlessness of purposeful activity; it must learn to waste time for the sake of God, and to be prepared for the sacred game with sayings and thoughts and gestures, without always immediately asking “why?” and “wherefore?” It must learn not to be continually yearning to do something, to attack something, to accomplish something useful, but to play the divinely ordained game of the liturgy in liberty and beauty and holy joy before God.
The Liturgy is about being, not about doing. How perfect that philosophy and Scripture agree that the little child at play is our role model.
Mrs. B. says
I found this chapter very, very LMLD-y. “[Play] will be beautiful, too, if it is left to itself, and if no futile advice and pedagogic attempts at enlightenment foist upon it a host of aims and purposes, thus denaturizing it.” Guardini reads this blog!! Oh, wait a minute… 😉
But seriously (ah!), his observations about play will sound very familiar to your readers, Leila, and I was also strongly reminded of how you like to say that it all begins with restful Sundays – purposeless Sundays, as we can say now that we’ve read this chapter!
I’m sure it’s a bit of a psychological barrier for many to think of something “purposeless” as a greater good. It’s a word that evokes ideas of uselessness and laziness, of something that’s good for nothing, of wasted time that could have been used better. It’s good that he reminds that that purposeless does not mean meaningless. Maybe this is why some people can’t be bothered to go to church: they haven’t learned the significance of having no purpose, yet possessing the fullest meaning. (Does it mean they have forgotten, more seriously than others, what it is like to be a child?)
Your pictures of bridges and his comments on art made me think that there is a whole discussion about beauty lurking in the background. At some point we tired of adding beauty to what is merely purposeful; worse, some even delight in ugliness. But by denying beauty we subtract meaning, even if we don’t mean to, as shown by the picture of the plain barrier. I think Ratzinger will be more specific on this than Guardini.
I was also reminded of that most unfortunate misunderstanding of what the Second Vatican Council called the “actuosa participatio” of the faithful, which a poor translation transformed into the infamous “active participation” principle that has been used to inject more “doing” in the liturgy, at the expense of “being”. This book (and anything written by Ratzinger) is a very good antidote to that mindset.
I also had a laugh at Guardini’s own little bit of playfulness in a chapter about it: “To go to the root of the matter”, when speaking about plants? I can just imagine his smile while he wrote it 🙂
Angelique says
I took my young children to our state capitol yesterday and asked them on our way out, “So do you think it’s good that they made such a beautiful building, or would it have been better to make a simple building and save the money for something else?” They were very enthusiastic that it ought to be beautiful because “it’s good for people to look at things that are beautiful!” And “we’re proud of our state!”
Leila says
Angelique, I love your children’s responses!
Leila says
Mrs. B — I think that the reason people don’t get worship, resting, “playing,” is that they have been convinced that “doing” is better. And so they are so busy that they don’t know how to rest. Rest is an art.
We must learn to rest and to enjoy.
Mrs. B. says
But I’m sure many would say they are resting quite nicely on Sunday morning, sitting in bed and reading the newspaper while sipping coffee 😉
This also reminds me of a dialogue in The Sound of Music, when the Baroness asks the Captain why he’s been leaving his beautiful house and its peaceful setting so often, to visit busy Vienna instead. He replies that activity suggests a life filled with purpose. She answers that it may also be a running away from memories, and he agrees.
So yes, we’re scared of voids of activity, we don’t know what to do with them and with ourselves – perhaps activity makes us feel more important, more worthy in the eyes of others, and, like Capt. Von Trapp, we also hope activity will keep away the things we don’t want to think about.
Juanita says
I struggle to understand purposelessness as a good, child of Protestantism that I am. I understand that it is so, and I can see it in the creation story, and when Jesus visits Mary and Martha. I just struggle to integrate it in my own experience of the liturgy, prayer, and Sunday.
I constantly find myself trying to accomplish something with my mass intentions and family prayers. It takes a lot of faith, I think, to just be with God and trust to His providence.
Interestingly enough, I found this whole chapter underscored my understanding of Pope Saint John Paul II’s “Love and Responsibility.” In the first section of the book, he argues strenuously against utilitarianism which is certainly one of the idols of our age. The Liturgy, like persons, is not a means to an end. It is an end unto itself.
Now to learn and implement that lesson…
Angelique says
YES. I realized a while ago that growing up my mother always referred to good days as “productive” or “fun” (in the sense of diversion, not play in this context). I still fall into that habit, but I am trying to say other things like “It was a peaceful/interesting day.”
Leila says
Juanita, yes, the first part of Love and Responsibility is amazing — a huge indictment of what has only become worse.
Obviously, petition is part of prayer! So asking God for things — well, we are his children — He sort of expects it 🙂
What I am trying to get at here is not so much what WE are taking to worship (although it’s good think of that too) but what worship IS.
If our Masses weren’t conducted with this same urgency and sense of the need to convert the will, perhaps we would be more able to experience worship with a greater sense of peace.
In other words, it’s not just our reactions. How the thing is DONE really matters.
Lisa G. says
Now, this is interesting, what Juanita says. It seems to me that there are many who love the Mass so much, or the rosary, or certain practices which we Catholics are familiar with. But my feeling is that these are not ends in themselves, and too many seem to see them that way. These are all there to bring us more and more to God, to make us more and more like God. This is the ultimate purpose. Some seem too attached to these things, whatever they may be. Do you know what I’m saying? These things can be taken away, and we have to survive without them. (I know I used the word “purpose” – I think I’m one of those he spoke about at the beginning of the chapter, but not 100% – I hope!)
But, lest you think I’m totally hopeless, I had to laugh at myself when reading along and I suddenly had a flash of understanding why Leila is trying to promote the more traditional forms of the Mass, with the Renaissance music, etc. Because the way he’s describing it – it’s more like an experience, and that’s not entirely right – I mean, we are supposed to participate.
Another thought: His description makes me think of cats. How they know how to enjoy life! 🙂
Leila says
Lisa, of course, the Rosary is a devotion. It is meant to bring about a change in us. Yet, the repetitiveness of it helps us to simply absorb it, rather than exercising our will unceasingly to obtain what it promises. (Guardini spoke of the difference in chapter 2).
The Mass — it might help (and we will talk about this more) to think of it first as NOT a devotion. Rather, it is that “world that we step into” — little by little we come to realize that the Mass IS heaven. Time stops, we are in that Eighth Day (this is something we try to explain in our book, The Little Oratory). Ratzinger will have more on this.
So no one has the right to take away this Heaven — to turn the Mass into another process.
Note Guardini’s discussion in this chapter about the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius. Their aim is to change the Will. That is not the aim of the Mass — yet many people think it is.
Nancy says
As I read this chapter I reflected on my childhood experience of living with my mother, who was a classical pianist. She used her creativity for purpose (teacher) that encompassed much organization with rules and objectives. After her workday, she would play music for her delight.
It is already within the child to play for the sake of play. If the domestic church (home) honors this God given attribute of childhood, as adults, I believe we will understand the balance of purpose and meaning. I believe Mrs. B makes a good point in wondering if people who have stopped going to church have forgotten what it is like to be a child. One only has to look at the culture, where everything has to have a means to an end. For example, our culture endorses institutional childcare/schooling where all activity has purpose (and testing).
Guardini states that the liturgy can only be understood by those who are able to take art and play seriously.
Leila says
Nancy, I had an “aha” moment when I realized that if you told your kids to practice their instruments, they felt burdened, but if you told them to PLAY their instruments, they were eager. And then they did the drills and things in order to play better!
Nancy says
Exactly, you stated in 2 sentences what I was trying to express! Thank you.
Janette says
This is by far my favorite chapter to this point! I love it how Mrs. B said that purposeless is a bit of a psychological barrier. I found myself saying, yeah but… the purpose of the Liturgy is to worship God or make our souls clean or so on, but by the end of the chapter I finally got it! No purpose but full of meaning or essence! I have to be able to let go of the truly human way of purposing everything. As you said, Leila, we have to learn to be and not do.
My favorite, favorite paragraph is the one that starts “When the liturgy is rightly regarded, it cannot be said to have a purpose, because it does not exist for the sake of humanity, but for the sake of God…” And of course everything about child’s play 🙂
Angelique says
This reminds me of Pieper’s Leisure and Culture, and the difference between what Austen would call “diversion” and true leisure, true play. I love the distinction that we can have meaning without purpose.
I think tjis is why my early attempts to teach mychildren the faith through living the liturgical year were so awful. I was trying so hard to suck lessons out of it and bolster them up with cheesy crafts that I was trying to pick a rose with a chainsaw…things are much better now that I am trying to just LIVE it with them and share the wonder of it and do the lessons separately (though I do still point out how they relate.)
Leila says
Angelique, of course — there has to be a certain amount of study (probably not as much as most people think, though). It’s even super helpful to learn the parts of the Mass! and so on.
But to turn the actual worship into lessons, ugh.
Think of other things we enjoy: It’s terrible to discuss one’s every method of cookery while eating the roast, or can you imagine applying this way to making love? Uh uh! Just enjoy 🙂
Mrs. B. says
Yes, Maria Montessori writes the same thing in her little book The Mass Explained to Children: she can barely contain her disdain for those who take children to Mass and “helpfully” explain everything while Mass is going on!
Juanita says
Yes! That was such a revelation to me when I read it early in this mothering business. I still need the reminder, it seems.
Eileen says
What struck me was the importance of a contemplative life. An attitude rooted in eternity.
Thinking this way gives me peace.
Eileen says
Put this comment above in the wrong chapter. Sorry.
*Kate says
I just wanted to thank you for these reflections and for “making” me think. 🙂 I have enjoyed reading along even if I was dreadfully behind. And just to let you know, for weeks now I have taken such delight in my bird feeders and don’t imagine I will ever look at them the same again.