EXCERPT:
I expected to arrive at Notre Dame de Paris around 10:30 for an 11:00 Armistice Day ceremony (traditionally, the solemn chanting of Te Deum), and I guessed that, aside from the usual tourists, the congregation might be sparse (no veterans of the “Great War” of 1914-1918 survive, and this year’s anniversary--the 93rd--was not a round number that might command special attention).
Instead, I found the cathedral jam-packed and a homily already underway. The main area was blocked off, so tourists could only pass around the side aisles. It was a 10:00 Mass, and the congregation was largely black, mostly women, and many in the bright colors of traditional tribal garb.
The homily (offered by the Archbishop of Paris) was projected on HD flat screens every 10 yards long the side aisles of the cathedral. I made my way up the aisle with the tourist flow, circled counter-clockwise round behind the altar, and stopped on the far edge facing back across the sanctuary to the nave.
This was the annual Paris celebration in honor of the French overseas dioceses of Antigua, Martinique, and Guadalupe. This was, however, the first time this Mass was celebrated at Notre Dame.
The rest of the Mass was punctuated by the loud, rhythmic, drum-driven music of a large choir singing upbeat multi-part hymns in both French and the creoles of their respective countries. Most of the hymns were high energy island melodies, with the exception of a gloriously harmonized Creole lyric set to the tune of “Amazing Grace.”
As Mass ended, a bishop rose and drew loud applause and warm laughter by noting that, without doubt, this was the first time a black bishop had spoken to his people from the sanctuary of “This beautiful cathedral of Notre Dame of Paris.”
As I listened—just minutes after holding black hands on both sides of me during the Our Father, exchanging signs of peace with these French Africans, and filing up with them to receive Communion in this great monument to Catholic faith—I found the moment almost unbearably moving.
This cathedral is, after all, the crowning product of medieval Christendom, an era when the Catholic tradition achieved a remarkable integration of imperial customs (inherited from the Roman Empire) and popular culture. The result, in Gothic architecture like Notre Dame, created spaces that soar heavenward with impossibly “light” stoneworks in which walls and pillars are but bit players supporting the real stars: the fragile and flamboyant stained glass windows that make up much of surfaces. Those “Vitraux” were, a Charlemagne said, “The catechism of the people,” who despite general illiteracy provided the heroic and expert labor that made these marvels possible.
Notre Dame and its sister cathedrals across Europe are thus among the chief glories of Christendom, which was itself Catholicism’s first attempt to go global by attaching Catholic faith to Latin culture.
That culture, of course, was imposed by European Christians on most third world colonies--witness these French-speaking Africans. But once decolonization began, the dream of a permanent global Euro-Latin culture was doomed, and the “Christendom” project with it.
Enter Vatican Council II (1962-1965) with a new idea: rather than tie Catholicism’s global reach to a receding European culture in a post-colonial age, why not equip Catholicism to thrive in all cultures? Why not, for example, expand beyond Latin and Gregorian chant and western polyphony as the sole liturgical options to embrace all the languages and musics of the globe?
Because of that new idea, I got to witness, on this day, this vibrant liturgical celebration from three third world cultures--here, in this bosom of Christendom! Far from violating the wondrous gothic beauty of Notre Dame Cathedral, this heartfelt celebration lifted hearts much as the flying buttresses lift the stone--and the brilliant bright costumes seemed fitting reflections of the brilliant blues and reds, yellows and greens of the cathedral’s great rose windows.
This celbration broadcast the unmistakable message that Catholic tradition, already 100 generations old, can without warning burst forth with the youthful and holy spirit of a new generation, and thus give new life to this beautiful space which we inherited as the legacy and faithful gift of another Catholic generation, now long gone but not forgotten. Just as that generation’s genius crafted the stone, the sculptures, and the glass, this generation is crafting its own monuments to faith in music and dress.
There is no place on this earth quite like the Cathedral of Notre Dame of Paris, and in all its years it has never witnessed anything quite like this.
Oh,dear Bernie, I'm happy that your white American conscience was soothed by "holding black hands" at a bongo-and-calypso Mass in France, but you're missing the real point here. By your own admission women made up the the majority of the congregation at this liturgical spectacle. Why do you suppose that is? Other than yourself, do you know many other heterosexual men who are inspired by "performance liturgy"?
ReplyDeleteForty-plus years of this stuff have emptied our churches and seminaries, but your answer is "more of the same, please", and by-the-way don't forget THE COUNCIL which brought you the splendour of this renewal! Thankfuly the Holy Father's charted course for the barque is 180 degrees opposite the heading of Cap'n Bernie's showboat and so we are seeing - mirabile dictu - a liturgical revival and a burgeoning of vocations in the early 21st c.
Do you actually know any African Catholics, old bean? Have you ever talked to them about the liturgy? If you had, you'd have heard how many of them prize Latin and chant as tangible signs of unity, not only with the Universal Church but with their neighbours, many of whom speak a different dialect. And, in a culture that places a premium on family, it's a big deal when the men don't go to church...
As comedy, your rant is mildly entertaining; as critique, it might as well be in the same pig-Latin as your fraudulent pen name, since it substitutes straw men for facts. The facts are these: There were no bongos (which are cuban) or calypso; My conscience is Catholic, not white American; There were hundreds of men among the congregation; This "showboat" was the work of the presiding Cardinal-Archbishop of Paris, not me (and he presumably acts in concert with the Holy Father, whom he represented); However prized Latin and chant may be, the fact is the planners chose instead to employ homegrown languages and music (an option not available 50 years ago)--and in so doing they filled the church; The archbishop urged a personal commitment to Bible-reading, also a conciliar mandate; The Communion line took so long because the majority received the Eucharist (a virtual unknown in the pre-concilar Church). In short, this liturgy reflected the new vitality of worship at this cathdedral, which had fallen into near-disuse by mid-20th century.
ReplyDeleteWell I'm very happy that I was able to amuse you a bit but you shouldn't be so quick to denigrate my nom de plume, for one thing - as I've stated in the past - I really cannot risk divulging my identity. "Fraudulent" is a bit harsh, I'm not passing myself off as someone I'm not and it's hardly an unknown practice to write under a pseudonym - even the American founders did it. But I'm glad you got it old fellow
ReplyDeleteObviously you know quite well the true state of the liturgy in France, last time I was there a few years ago it was positively dreadful. Card. 23 has done nothing to improve this as far as I am aware. Incidentally, how many seminarians has he? Looks like he ordained only four priests this year, unless he's doing them clandestinely, but then there were only 120 for all of France! Meanwhile the Diocese of Frejus-Toulon had 15 ordinations from an RC population maybe 45% of Paris. Care to make any guesses about the liturgical orientation of that bishop, old bean? Maybe he can't afford flatscreens, but he's certainly watching the Pope quite closely.
I will reiterate my point: in general, liturgical frivolity and flamboyance are off-putting to men - Africans, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Americans. The post-Conciliar liturgical re-formation, as implemented, has been a disaster largely for that reason. Pope Benedict, for one, sees that clearly. I'm sure there were men in Notre Dame, but you're the one who said there were "mostly women" present. Since females are about 51% of the population here - can't be much different in France - shouldn't the congregation reflect that?
I am not opposed to inculturation so long as it's genuine, e.g. Missa Luba, but it is really quite sad that you have lashed yourself to the mast of anthropocentrically-themed liturgies even as attendance at Mass has declined to a reported 16% in Boston and less than 10% in Paris. Don't you ever wonder why it's over 60% in Lincoln, Nebraska? When do you concede that this just isn't quite the thing?
Hi Bernie,
ReplyDeleteThis is an interesting discussion. Recently, I've become an avid reader of your CrossCurrents. Certainly timely material, especially given our local ecclesial scene here in Boston. I'm interested in your thoughts on the new parish structures being promoted by the Archdiocese. I'm hesitant, but in light of what "Earnie Bay" (I just noticed the Pig-Latin reference!) says, could there be more to the picture that the Archdiocese does not see? Thanks for your continued and helpful musings.