Amidst Our Liturgical Differences…

…which should not exist, for we receive the liturgy, and do not create it, it is worth pointing out something we can all agree on: Liturgy itself is awesome. I did an amateur covering of this fact a while back, defending liturgy with three points.

1. That Everyone uses a liturgy.

2. That liturgy is essentially universal and wonderfully democratic.

3. That the Liturgy is a gift.

I’d like to think that those three post are decent ‘primer posts’ for discussion on the Liturgy, as I realize I may be leaving a lot of people out with the whole Just Say No to Your Traddy/Modern Labels! thing. For all of you who’ve already read those, read C.S. Lewis!

no big deal, just another studly lewisian picture.

It looks as if they believed people can be lured to go to church by incessant brightenings, lightenings, lengthenings, abridgements, simplifications, and complications of the service. And it is probably true that a new, keen vicar will usually be able to form within his parish a minority who are in favour of his innovations. The majority, I believe, never are. Those who remain — many give up churchgoing altogether — merely endure.

Novelty, simply as such, can have only an entertainment value.And they don’t go to church to be entertained. They go to use the service, or, if you prefer, to enact it. Every service is a structure of acts and words through which we receive a sacrament, or repent, or supplicate, or adore. And it enables us to do these things best — if you like, it “works” best — when, through long familiarity, we don’t have to think about it. As long as you notice, and have to count, the steps, you are not yet dancing but only learning to dance. A good shoe is a shoe you don’t notice. Good reading becomes possible when you need not consciously think about eyes, or light, or print, or spelling. The perfect church service would be one we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been on God.

But every novelty prevents this. It fixes our attention on the service itself; and thinking about the worship is a different thing from worshipping. The important question about the Grail was “for what does it serve?” “‘Tis mad idolatry that makes the service greater than the god.”

A still worse thing may happen. Novelty may fix our attention not even on the service but on the celebrant. You know what I mean. Try as one may to exclude it, the questions “What on earth is he up to now?” will intrude. It lays one’s devotion waste. There is really some excuse for the man who said, “I wish they’d remember that the charge to Peter was Feed my sheep; not Try experiments on my rats, or even, Teach my performing dogs new tricks.”

Good Work

Dear Catholic bloggers, artists, musicians, priests, You-Tube video makers, published writers, Facebook-note writers, youth ministers, music ministers, film directors, photographers, church architects, and everyone else. C.S Lewis has something extremely important to tell you. Listen!

“Until quite recently – until the latter part of the last century – it was taken for granted that the business of the artist was to delight and instruct his public. There were, of course, different publics; the street-songs and the oratorios were not addressed to the same audience (though I think a good many people liked both). And an artist might lead his public on to appreciate finer things than they wanted at first; but he could do this only by being, from the first, if not merely entertaining, yet entertaining, and if not completely intelligible, yet very largely intelligible. All this has changed. In the highest aesthetic circles one now hears nothing about the artist’s duty to us. It is all about our duty to him. He owes us nothing; we owe him “recognition,” even though he has never paid the slightest attention to our tastes, interests or habits. If we don’t give it to him, our name is mud. In this shop, the customer is always wrong…
But [...] I doubt whether we have a duty to “appreciate” the ambitious. This attitude to art is fatal to good work. Many modern novels, poems, and pictures, which we are brow-beaten into “appreciating” are not good work because they are not work at all. They are mere puddles of spilled sensibility or reflection. When an artist is in the strict sense working, he of course takes into account the existing taste, interests, and capacity of his audience. These, no less than the language, the marble, or the paint, are part of his raw material; to be used, tamed, sublimated, not ignored or nor defied. Haughty indifference to them is not genius nor integrity; it is laziness and incompetence. You have not learned your job. Hence, real honest-to-God work, so far as the arts are concerned, now appears chiefly in low-brow art; in the film, the detective story, the children’s story. These are often sound structures; seasoned wood, accurately dovetailed, the stresses all calculated; skill and labor successfully used to do what is intended. Do not misunderstand. The high-brow productions may, of course, reveal a finer sensibility and profounder thought. But a puddle is not a work, whatever rich wines or oils or medicines have gone into it.
“Great works” (of art) and “good works” (of charity) had better also be Good Work. Let choirs sing well or not at all…”

- C. S. Lewis (Good Work and Good Works – The World’s Last Night Copyright 1987)

Is your work for the Church “mere puddles of spilled sensibility or reflection”? Because everyone’s sick to death of crap art, ‘modern’ architecture, incredibly long blog posts describing the contents of your day, articles that barely scratch the surface of their subject, priests that seem to think that the mass is a great place for them to say whatever they want, and, in general, the puddles of reflection that often take the place of good work.

I’m not grumpy! It just hit me that those words should be taken to heart every time I go to post.