Dear
Theophilous,
As a
kid visiting the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, I never really
understood the artistic value of the white-on-white canvas. If anything, the
minimalist art display left me bored, stir crazy, and (much to my parents’ embarrassment)
acting out. There was just nothing there to hold my interest. Now, the
paintings full of vibrant colour, animated scenes and unconventional
characters; even the modernist splotches of paint chaotically splattered –
those busy works of art; they held the interest of a pre-adolescent child.
Fast-forward
30 some-odd years later, as a parent myself; I have gone through the
embarrassingly frustrating chore of keeping a lid on a bored child. From
looking around at Mass, and hearing the pleas of both bored children and
exacerbated parents, I know that I am not alone. (Now that my son is an
adolescent, things have gotten way better, but for a while I wondered if either
one of us was getting anything out of the Mass).
This
has gotten me to wondering if the post-conciliar stripped-down version of the
Mass is the liturgical equivalent of the white-on-white canvass.
The
Vatican II document, Sancrosanctom Concillium (Constitution of the Sacred
Liturgy) stipulates that all
the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in
liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy. … and … this full and active participation by all
the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary
and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true
Christian spirit… (SC 14).
Yet, this full and active participation in the
liturgy seems to be the furthest from the truth for the youngest parishioners
in the pews, not to mention the adults who are not. How many times do parents
need to hear a whiny “I’m bored!”? Or how many times in our conversations with
fallen away Catholics do can we listen to the arguments “I’m not being fed in the Catholic Mass.” or “I don’t get anything out of going to Mass.” Unfortunately, as a
direct fall-out of our pop-culture society, many of the people who are saying
this (children and adults alike) are really saying, “I’m not being entertained.” or “There’s
nothing here to hold my technologically shortened attention span.”
The
thing is, if these people understood what was truly going on at the Mass, if we
all truly understood and saw what was going on at the Mass, we would be both
amazed and afraid. Our attention would be more than held. We would be rapt in
concentration, to the point that it would take our breath away. Not only would
we be so focused on what was going on around us (visible and invisible), we
would joyously participate with our whole mind, heart and soul.
Unfortunately,
we’ve forgotten how to see the Mass with liturgical eyes.
Smells & Bells is the colloquial phrase most
often used to describe Catholic liturgical tradition. It refers to the smell of
votive candles and incense that used to permeate every Catholic church and
chapel (even hours after Mass had finished), along with the bells that are rung
a at the most sacred moments of the Mass or that used to sound from the belfry
to mark the prayerful passage of the day (think of the Angelus bell that would
ring 3 times a day, or the tolling of the funeral bell that announced the death
of a fellow villager).
As a
kid, I would look forward to the Easter Vigil every year, because these Smells
& Bells fascinated me. Yet in the past generation, much of this has
disappeared from the Catholic liturgy.
Kids
love action, and I have friends who purposefully sit in the front row so that
their kids can see what limited action is going on during the Mass. Imagine how
much easier it would be to maintain children’s attention (and adults as well)
if there were sacred action happening throughout the Mass. This would also
allow for teachable catechesis moments where parents can quietly whisper why
the smelly smoke is being used, the
priest is making those silly gestures or it sounds like Nana’s old-fashioned
wall telephone is ringing.
The
traditional architectural beauty of Catholicism is also another way that young
and old alike can be captivated by the faith and drawn into a more full and
active participation in the liturgy.
Every
year on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we make a family pilgrimage to St.Michael’s Cathedral in the Archdiocese of Toronto. We’ve been doing this since
my son was about 5 years old, and from the very first time he walked through
the doors, he’s been mesmerized by the story told by the buildings beauty. From
the Cardinal’s hat dangling high above the main altar, to biblical images
illustrated in the stain glass windows, to the paintings and statues of Jesus,
Mary and the saints; he has had so much to learn from the church around him and
how it ties into the Mass that after many yearly visits, he is still captivated
by it all, and growing in his wonder of sacred liturgy. Having just re-opened
after a multi-million dollar renovation, St. Michael’s Cathedral offers an even
more awe-inspiring celebration of the Mass.
Sadly,
much like the Smells & Bells of the Mass, the ornate beauty of Catholic
architecture has also disappeared over the past generation. Even with a
so-called revival of Catholic art in churches, newly built buildings are very
much a stripped-down version of their stately predecessors. They have become a
white-on-white canvas.
Gone is
the ornate and warm woodwork that would decorate the walls. Along with the
devotional paintings, they are replaced by whitewashed, barren walls. Any
statuary that is left in the building is simple, and often colourless; or so
much artistic liberty has been taken that much of the Mass is spent on trying
to figure out what it represents as opposed to having it point our attention
towards the Paschal Mystery.
The
same can be said of the stained glass windows in many churches built in the
last 30 years. Gone are depictions of scenes from the Bible. We can no longer
be inspired by the lives of the saints. Instead, we are left with either a
collage of a multi-coloured mosaic or a symbolism that is impossible to
decipher or too simple to hold our attention. Originally, stained glass windows
were meant to instruct the illiterate who could not read Sacred Scripture for
themselves, in many ways they need to make a revival for a lost generation that
hasn’t had the opportunity to get to know our wonderful heritage.
For
kids and adults to be engaged in the Mass, there needs to be something to
engage them with. For generations, the Smells & Bells of the liturgy
and the ornate beauty of Catholic architecture enthralled Catholics into a
greater love and participation in the sacred liturgy (even if they didn’t
understand the language). A return to the glory of our Catholic heritage will help
us all to see the Mass with newly opened liturgical eyes. Not only with the
faithful be drawn more into the Mass, but it will help those who feel there is
nothing to hold their attention for an hour every Sunday fulfill Vatican II’s
call for a more full and active participation in the liturgy.
