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The Mass is not a dirge. But we tend to sing the common prayers as if we were at a funeral.
Leading into the Gospel Acclamation, “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia” can be stretched and slowed out of all shape. “Allllllleluuuuia, allllllleluuuuuia, alllllllleluuuuuia.” Put it in your mind that the layman on the altar has cast the tone way down low and draggy. Think about how people start the Happy Birthday song; they want to get everyone singing so they intone it low and proceed painfully slowly such that it does not seem we are happy at all. This kind of thing happens throughout the Mass.
The Alleluia is not a song of sorrow. Are any of them? Most of them are shouts of joy. We are praising Him.
Orthodox. Faithful. Free.
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Think of the Agnus Dei, one of the most important and meaningful songs in salvation history. It is remarkable that so many parishes are bringing back Latin, especially this one. But do we have to sing it as if we are sad? “Agnuuuuuuus deiiiiiiiii, qui tollisssss, peccatttta mundiiiii” and so on all the way slowly and painfully to “dooooonaaaa nobis pacem.” We are singing to the Lamb the startling news that He takes away the sins of the world! This is joyful!
It is not just the Mass where we sing ponderously. The Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament is perhaps the most painful of these examples! “Tantuuuuuuuuuuuuum errrrrgooooooo Sacramentuuuuuuuuum, veneremur cernuuuuuui: et antiquuuuuum documentuuuuuuuum, novo cedat ritui.” It is almost too painful to sing the next part, “Præstet fides…” But there is even stage direction from St. Thomas, “To the begetter and the begotten, be praise and jubilation…” He calls for praise and jubilation, not sorrowful droning.
When this is going on, I generally stop singing, as a lot of people do. I tell my wife, I can’t sing that slowly, I’ll fall over.
I am not a theologian, and I am not even remotely a liturgist, and maybe I am completely wrong about this, though I don’t think so. The Mass is a joyful shout to God in His Heaven at what He has given us. I think there is a reason the priest is called the “celebrant.” It is one of the delicious ironies of our Faith that our joyful Mass is an unbloody reenactment of the crucifixion of Our Lord; but then again, we are a people who celebrate something called Good Friday. And it is there when we leave the Church in silence and wonder which is suitable. It is one of the delicious ironies of our Faith that our joyful Mass is an unbloody reenactment of the crucifixion of Our Lord; but then again, we are a people who celebrate something called Good Friday. Tweet This
While I am bellyaching about the Mass, a note to the lectors. Stop looking at us. Do not look at us. Please do not give us meaningful pauses and glances. We do not need your dramatic reading.
Some lectors think this is an occasion to emote. One guy even changes the tone of his voice when he is speaking as the voice of God. In the readings this week, we had Genesis; in a soft, dramatic voice, he read, “God said,” and then he let loose like he was Charlton Heston, “let the water team with an abundance of living creatures, and on the Earth, let birds fly beneath the dome of the sky.” He is practically shouting and looking at us meaningfully. Cut that out; just read.
And the choir: Do we really need to sing every single verse sung so slowly well after the priest has left the building and is probably tucking in a sandwich back in the rectory?
And, Father, one more thing: at daily Mass, there is no need for a ten-minute sermon; just give us a three-minute (tops) fervorino.
What about me at Mass? I am always recollected. I never let my mind wander. I never think about what we are going to have for lunch, or something about work, or wasn’t that a great episode of Endeavour last night? Look at that, the cutest baby ever. What was that buzzing? My cell phone. Don’t check it; okay, maybe a glance. And, Good Lord, no, I never think about taking just a second to answer it. I never look around and wonder where is my friend Ken today? Maybe he is traveling; oh yeah, he’s running a 10K this morning. And oh look, that person is taking it standing and in the hand rather than kneeling and on the tongue. “Body of Christ.” “Amen.” I never do any of that.
And blessed is the name of the Lord. Amen. Alleluia.
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I particularly love the part where the Deacon invites me to stand up, turn my back on the Body and Blood of Christ and high five the folks in the back pews after giving my wife a little peck on the cheek.
Catholic services are so different since the priests turned their backs to the crucifix and the tabernacle.
To be certain I concur with Mr. Bill
Black that our lectors mumble incoherently and worse one priest has an accent that is incoherent. Only if a classic hymn is sung is there any indication to a joyful noise.
I’d rather have a lector that over-dramatized the readings than the 95.3% of them who mumble incoherently. I recently emailed the Vatican suggesting that “microphone abuse” be added to the List of Venial Sins (if they’re still around). As far as I can see, it’s up to the pastor of the parish to ensure that his lectors (and cantors and choirs) don’t get in the way of the liturgy. Unfortunately none of the pastors seems to want to risk being considered a hard-a** (mea culpa) and getting his teams shaped up. And while we’re changing things, how about more second readings from other writers than Saint Paul? A couple of doses of mumbled incomprehensible and unmemorable Epistles to the Whoever go a long way. What’s wrong with GKC or C.S. Lewis or (with a few footnotes) Gerard Manley Hopkins? Or maybe two minutes of Bishop Sheen re-runs? Hey, let’s do another Synod and shake the whole thing up!
So true!