The originator of the Christmas crèche, if only he could have copyrighted the idea, clearly would have made a fortune. Using figures to meditate on the mysteries of the nativity is just a great, great idea. It works for so many people, young and old! You can’t beat it for encouraging imaginative engagement with the story of Christ’s birth.

Like any religious devotion that makes its way into truly popular culture though, there’s no saying how far it may get pushed over the edge into… well, tasteless trash.

A friend of mine shared this website post of whacky nativity sets. He found it hilarious.

I have to admit, however, that seeing this collection of the world’s worst nativity sets (and reading that the list is growing) made me grimace rather than smile.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I think there is only one way to do this. In fact, I’m all for inculturation. I think it’s wonderful, for instance, to see the Holy Family depicted as members of all races and peoples. It can be a beautiful witness to how Christian believers around the globe own the story — it’s our story, wherever and whoever we may be.

I think there’s a place for anachronism in engaging with the Christmas story. There’s a way of putting our contemporary world around the Christmas crib, thus symbolizing the coming of Christ into our everyday life—a popular motif in Italian crèches. The idea behind that sort of thing is grand.

Let me hasten to add that not all religious art is fine art, and that’s perfectly, well, fine. Folk art is genuinely valuable. I’m even OK with sentimental art or “religious kitsch” in the home. Placing, say, the little drummer boy or a kneeling Santa into the nativity scene under someone’s Christmas tree may not be to my taste, but I respect the devotional impulse behind it.

But a Holy Family made out of rubber ducks? The Savior in sausage? A crèche of kitty cats? Here’s my question: Is there a point at which the point of the crèche is lost? Or can anything be dressed as the Holy Family, and it still works? In other words, is it impossible to evacuate the meaning from the symbols (the figures and their arrangement), and therefore it really doesn’t matter?

Maybe a Holy Family made up of dogs is just a bit of foolishness, and we should all have a good laugh. Maybe we should even admire all the novelties people have thought up. On the other hand, we are heading into a post-Christian culture, in which images that made sense in a Christian context are losing that context. Maybe frivolous treatment of the Christmas crèche is not a laughing matter.

What would St. Francis think?

What do you think?

New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008 (2011).

Review by Jordan Zarembo, PhD student, Faculty of Religious Studies, McGill University.  [1]

Fifty years after the opening of the Second Vatican Council, divergent viewpoints continue to shape post-conciliar liturgical discourse. The rapidly approaching introduction of a new English translation for Mass based on the third typical edition of the Missale Romanum, as well as recent decisions by two American bishops to restrict the administration of the Eucharistic cup to the laity [2] underscores differences between Catholics supportive of liturgical renewal and Catholics critical of post-conciliar liturgical developments.  Today’s liturgical contentions resemble at times the relationship between the public and private spheres in late antique institutional Christianity.

Kim Bowes’s investigation of fourth and early fifth century Roman Christianity [3] places today’s contentions in perspective.  Roman Christians in the fourth century CE encountered both an ascendant hierarchy bolstered by Constantinian wealth and an already established network of home devotions and liturgies supported by private benefactors. [4]  While Constantine’s peace of 312 returned property held in common by Roman Christian communities to the episcopate, [5] the Liber Pontificalis implies that confiscated private property frequently filled episcopal coffers at the expense of rightful owners. [6] Established domestic churches, diverse pre-Nicene Roman Christian communities, and private Christian beneficence frustrated a newly-wealthy episcopate’s domination of Roman Christian life. [7]

Fourth century Roman Christians continued their pre-Nicene focus on home devotion. [8]  The still-heeded exhortations of the early theologians Cyprian, Origen, and Tertullian, as well as church orders such as the Apostolic Tradition, all recommended daily private prayer and home Eucharist. [9]  Even so, cramped living conditions, the possibility of “profane” activities such as sexual acts, the presence of a pagan spouse, unworthy reception of the Eucharist by a non-baptized person, [10] or the contamination of the home Eucharist with pagan temple bread, [11] greatly complicated Origen and Tertullian’s exhortations.  [12]

Bowes notes in her conclusion to fourth-century Roman liturgy that “to build a domestic church or to partake of the reserved Eucharist in Rome during [the late fourth century] was to jump into a whirlpool.” [13] Bowes notes that towards the end of the fourth century, enhanced hierarchical power uneasily coexisted with the existing private donor networks which the episcopate and clergy still relied on for building capital. [14] The compact between private beneficence and hierarchical administration of titular churches [15] created an uneasy bargain. The titular agreement pitted the donors’ desire to place churches within longstanding Christian neighborhood communities [16] against episcopal desires to control the clergy of titular churches beholden to private donors. [17] Pope Damasus’s (366 – 384) pandering to wealthy women donors, as well as his determination to limit clerical control over titular finances, resulted in episcopal regulation of diaconal charity to counter clergy paid out of private donation.[18]  Bowes concludes that the fermentum rite, in which titular churches shared a portion of episcopally consecrated Eucharistic bread as a gesture of unity, attempted to solidify hierarchical control over “privately funded communities”.[19]  Perhaps one might also understand the fermentum as an episcopal attempt at the hierarchicalization of Eucharistic celebration and the suppression of home reservation of the Eucharist.

As Fr. Anthony Ruff, editor of the blog Pray Tell, has noted, “in late antiquity, episcopal power truly was in the ascendancy. Now it isn’t. Bishops’ efforts to pretend otherwise only diminishes their real power even more.”[20] Nearly 1700 years and multiple reinventions of the episcopate separate Damasus’ episcopacy and the role of bishops in the post-Vatican II Church. Even so, the complications of the intersection of liturgy and power still complicate relationships between bishops, clergy, and the laity.  Bowes’s investigation of the public and private tension in late fourth century Rome suggests that both the late antique Church and Catholicism of the 21th century have encountered the trying complexities of competing ideologies and visions.

NB: The preceding book review relies on the 2011 paperback edition.

—

Notes:

[1]  I have submitted similar but longer and more detailed review of this same book to ARC: The Journal of the Faculty of Religious Studies, McGill University.  This longer review is being considered for the 2011 edition of the journal.

[2]  Bishop Thomas J. Olmsted of Phoenix, AZ and Bishop Robert C. Morlino of Madison, WI have both issued guidelines  that restrict the administration of the Eucharist under both species to the laity.  For a critical assessment of Bishop Olmsted’s decision to withhold the cup from the laity on most occasions, consider Zoe Ryan, “Phoenix diocese to restrict Communion wine”. National Catholic Reporter, October 10, 2011. http://ncronline.org/news/faith-parish/phoenix-diocese-restrict-communion-wine?page=1 Accessed November 18, 2001.  For a supportive assessment of Bishop Morlino’s decision to withold the cup from the laity, consider Kevin J. Jones, “Bishop Morlino Supports New Missal’s Communion Norms”, National Catholic Register, October 12, 2011.  http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/bishop-morlino-supports-new-missals-communion-norms/ Accessed November 18, 2011.

[3] Bowes, Private Worship, 16

[4] Bowes, Private Worship, 65

[5] Bowes, Private Worship, 64

[6] Bowes, Private Worship, 64 — 65

[7] Bowes, Private Worship, 63 — 65

[8] Bowes, Private Worship, 76

[9] Bowes, Private Worship, 53 citing Bowes, Private Worship, 243 note 217 and note 218 for primary citations and secondary resources for the authors and works listed.

[10] Bowes, Private Worship, 54

[11] For Zeno’s fear of pagan contamination of the Eucharist reserved at home, see Bowes, Private Worship, 83 citing Bowes, Private Worship 252, note 132

[12] Bowes, Private Worship, 54

[13] Bowes, Private Worship, 103.  The review author has substituted the bracketed text [the late fourth century] for Bowes’s “during those years”.

[14] Bowes, Private Worship, 64

[15] Bowes, Private Worship, 69

[16] Bowes, Private Worship, 69

[17] Bowes, Private Worship, 71

[18] Bowes, Private Worship, 71

[19] Bowes, Private Worship, 71

[20] Fr. Anthony Ruff, October 8, 2011, (8:37 am), comment on Paul Ford, “The Case in Phoenix,” PrayTell, October 7, 2011. http://www.praytellblog.com/index.php/2011/10/07/the-case-in-phoenix/#comment-82315 Accessed 11 November 2011.

H/T: MSW at NCR.

What do you think is the role of the emotions in the worship of your tradition? Can (and should) they be cultivated?

Hat tip to Jonathan Sullivan (@sullijo on twitter).

But is this sign weakened or destroyed when the candle is virtual? I was saddened to discover that another Manhattan gem, the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, has replaced real votive candles with electric ones. I know of many churches that have done this, largely for safety concerns (with which I am not unsympathetic).

When the candle is electric, no wax is consumed — just a few watts; there’s light, but little heat. No messy candle cups to dispose or clean, no soot to darken ceilings, no risk of any sort, whatsoever. . . all with the press of a button or the flick of a switch. Timers can be set for anywhere from fifteen minutes to seven-days, and then the light goes out, right on the pre-determined dot. Sure, the bulb needs to be replaced every so often, but with LED technology coming to the fore, even such regular maintenance will be less-and-less necessary. The candle isn’t really yours to offer, like a votive; it’s an appliance to be shared. Perhaps there’s some environmental merit in that. . . .

Surely, in all of this, it’s the thought that counts — right?

This musing was provoked by an ad that appeared in my Facebook feed this evening:

The URL to which this ad was linked has been removed in order to protect the well-intentioned.

No need to go to church, no need to make a donation (or buy a candle from a kiosk or the rectory): just sit back and click your mouse on the candle of your choice to light it. A lambent flame will offer before God and his people your prayer and petition, byte by byte, on some server.

. . . lambent flames. . . byte by byte. . .

If such as this really moves people to prayer, then fine. If it moves people to prayer for others — if, perhaps, after “lighting” your “candle” you pause to commend to God the intentions behind the other thousand-some digi-wax candles “burning” alongside your own — then even better. I want to be clear: honest prayer to God almighty is always “right, a good and joyful thing.” It’s the practice involved in this case, or rather the lack of practice, that has me raising an eyebrow. Can it really be that, with the same maneuver that I use to feed (and, I’m ashamed to admit, taunt) Fr. Z’s digital hamster, I (or anyone else) can effect the same sign-value as going to church, making a donation, setting fire to splint and then to wick and wax? If, in fact, “it’s the thought that counts,” then perhaps so.

. . . bite by bite. . . byte by byte. . .

We call votive candles and other such aids to devotion sacramentals — outward signs that signify an inward grace; close kin to the dominical and ecclesial sacraments in their operation, but lacking in the universal import and salvific force of their official, liturgical cousins. Sacramentality of any sort presupposes engagement with the world — with the real and not just virtual world. Not just light, then, but fire; not just a bulb (or bytes), but wick and wax. Not just prayer, not just intention, but materiality and embodiment and mess and risk.

And community — mustn’t forget community. To stand in a church alone; to offer a silent prayer, is still to be in community — even when one doesn’t hear the echoes of others’ prayers, alone and together, uttered down the ages in the temple of God and the house of the saints. Locus iste a Deo factus est, inaestimabile sacramentum; irreprehensibilis est. By God was this place made, an inestimable sacrament; beyond reproach.

Community can be virtual, of course — that’s sort of the point with a blog such as this — but prayer isn’t. Behind all that clicking (whether of switches or mouses computer) is very real prayer indeed; and, as I said above, that’s a good thing. But I think it’s the case that more than just the thought counts when we move to incorporate signs and symbols in our prayer. Virtual sacraments are an impossibility: I can’t hear a confession over the phone, even if I can examine my conscience with it. I can’t fulfill my obligation to participate in the Eucharist by watching a liturgy on television. Sacramentals can’t be virtual either — apart from a papal blessing transmitted by radio or television (which, by extension, would seem to include “over the internet”). Sacraments and sacramentals demand far more of us — indeed, they demand all of us: that robust, full-bodied engagement that moves us beyond the self and into relationship with one another.

Perhaps I’m being old-fashioned. I’ve been called a neo-Luddite before. After all, I did all the html coding (including the links, photo cropping and captioning) for this post the old-fashioned way, without using the one-click menu that the webhost provides for me.
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Oh, by the way: the Bruckner Locus Iste, above (which always reminds me of Ecce Homo Qui Est Faba, Howard Goodall’s theme song to the BritCom Mr. Bean), isn’t really my style. This setting by the British boychoir Libera comes slightly closer to the mark for me. (And you’ve gotta love their robes, modeled on the Cistercian choir cuculla.)

It suddenly seems as if these candles — which at the beginning of the Vigil were lit as the profound symbol of the resurrection  – are nothing more than liturgical debris, to be un-lit for the sake of convenience.  Even if we take these candles home with us and light them at our Easter meals, within the Easter Vigil  itself we are asked to make a sudden switch from holding these candles as deep pointers to the Resurrection to treating these candles as, basically, a liturgical nuisance.  It seems impractical, after all, to ask people to hold lit candles throughout a long service).

But are there other options than simply extinguishing what we just celebrated as the “light of Christ”?  Would it, for example, be possible to gather the lit candles in stands filled with sand, around the sanctuary?  Maybe some Pray Tell folks have already solved this issue?

H/T: Servant and Steward blog (Fr. Daren Zehnle)

The first is an old favorite of mine: Saint Patrick’s Breastplate. I like this version because it evokes both the glories of the faith of Christians and trials that beset us. This is good dark age poetry, yet it takes but little to update it to the horrors of modern life, mutatis mutandis.

I must admit, I have been especially conscious of the frailty of flesh and of our mortality this week. The disaster in Japan, one that continues to unfold in such horrific detail, is a vivid reminder of the limits of human control over the natural environment and over our own life span and how we shall be called to spend it. The way our days are apportioned on this earth is less predictable and secure than we like to think.

As it happens, there was also a fatal bus accident only a few miles from me during the past week, in which many people died or were critically injured. Finally, a dear friend of mine has entered another stage of cancer therapy, realizing with style and grace that although no one knows the day or the hour, this round of treatment will be her last. “I bind unto myself today, the strong Name of the Trinity.”

Second, I am pleased to share with you a lovely, gentle Celtic prayer: “May the Blessing of Light Be Upon You.” This prayer is also well known evidently, though it was new to me. It too acknowledges mortality, but does it so sweetly that I feel consoled as I read it, and I would like to share that sense of consolation with you. How splendid that it should depict us as “light-bearers” who, by taking in light become light to guide the way for other wayfarers. I am reminded of the gift of our baptism, and the light of Christ that shines brightly if we let it.

Blessings for Saint Patrick’s day, everyone!

Saint Patrick’s Breastplate

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever.
By power of faith, Christ’s incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan river;
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;*
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the cherubim;
The sweet ‘well done’ in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors’ faith, Apostles’ word,
The Patriarchs’ prayers, the Prophets’ scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

_______________________________________

MAY THE BLESSING OF LIGHT BE UPON YOU

L:         May the blessing of light be upon you:
May you have light outside you, and light within you.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you
and warm your heart till it glows like a great fire,
so that all, whether stranger or friend,
may come and warm themselves at it.
And may light shine out of your eyes
like a candle in the window of a house,
welcoming the wanderer in out of the storm.

All:  May the blessing of the light be upon us! Amen!

L: May the blessing of the rain be upon you -
the blessing of the soft sweet rain:
may it fall on your spirit,
so that all the little flowers may spring up
and shed their sweetness on the air.
And may the blessing of the great rains be upon you:
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

All:  May the blessing of the rain be upon us!  Amen!

L: May the blessing of the earth be upon you -
the great round earth.
May you ever have a kindly greeting for those you pass
as you’re going along the roads.
May the earth be soft under you when you rest on it,
tired at the end of the day.
And may it rest easy over you when,
at the last, you lay out under it;
may it rest so lightly over you,
that your soul may be out from under it quickly,
and up, and off, and on its way to God.

All: May the blessing of the earth be upon us! Amen!

I attended my first Eucharistic Congress in St. Louis in 2001. As a junior in college, I was amazed at the thousands of Catholics who came to study and celebrate the Eucharist. I still have vivid memories of Archbishop (now Cardinal) Rigali processing with the Blessed Sacrament down to the riverfront for benediction. The group my parish walked with sang and danced for more than a mile in procession. At the time, I do not think I was aware of the purpose of this gathering, but I do recall feeling as if I belonged to a great and inspired community. I certainly do not recall much about the workshops I attended, but the ritual moments are still vivid in my mind.

What is the purpose of a Eucharistic Congress? In The Rites vol. 1, the section Holy Communion and Worship of the Eucharist Outside Mass sheds some light on the purpose of this gathering. The section on Eucharistic Congresses starts at paragraph 109.

After reading this brief instruction, I would offer these words for reflection. It seems that the goal of a Eucharistic Congress is to gather the Church – whether local, regional, or national – for catechesis, devotions, and worship, which culminates in the celebration of Eucharist. Eucharisticum Mysterium 67 emphasizes solemn processions with the Blessed Sacrament as a particular devotion the faithful should experience.

This type of gathering has the potential to invite us to reflect on:

1. How does the Eucharist challenge us to proclaim the Gospel faithfully?
2. How does the celebration of Eucharist deeply move communities to serve the poor and marginalized?
3. How does our sharing in Eucharist invite us into reconciliation?
4. How do we feed those with hungry hearts and those who struggle to keep bread on the table?
5. How do we prepare for and execute our worship?
6. How do we model God’s love and mercy?
7. How do parishes live and model a life of thanksgiving?
8. How does our adoration move us to action and back to contemplation?
9. How can we renew our sense of the sacred? (I think of this today because there was a young woman eating a cupcake before Mass this morning in our worship space).
10. How do we journey with those who do not know or accept the love of Christ?

TAJ

Here’s a link to a video from WGBAY.