Ultamontane Liturgy

"Let the law of supplication," wrote St. Prosper during the reign of Leo the Great, "form the law of belief." Traditionalists will apply these words readily to the Pauline reform of the Roman Missal and, in rare instances, to the Roman Office, but what about to the papal liturgy?

We recently eclipsed the anniversary of the last Papal Mass, the basis of the Roman liturgy and the form of Mass celebrated by the Bishops of Rome on holy days and for stational observances since the middle of the first millennium until the fifteen regrettable years of Giovanni Battista Montini, Pope Pius XII.2. Before Pope Paul knowingly tinkered with the ordo Missae of the normative Tridentine Mass he unknowingly created a novel ordo Missae for Papal Mass which would endure for several pontificates beyond his. Indeed, it is unthinkable that Jorge Mario Bergoglio would ascend to the Petrine chair without this innovation by Montini.

What did Papa "Zio" do? He generally retained the rite of Papal Mass and the coronation with the triple tiara, but he moved it outside. Pius IX celebrated low Mass outdoors for troops in the papal army during one of the many nationalist uprisings in central Italy a century before, but Pope Paul rarely fought anyone who was not a French missionary prelate.

While the Archbasilica of Our Savior at the Lateran Palace is the cathedral of Rome the rites of papal initiation have traditionally been performed in St. Peter's basilica. St. Peter was the Prince of the Apostles, the first bishop of Rome, and the Pope is the "vicar of St. Peter." Moreover, St. Peter's tomb has remained one of the primary destinations of pilgrimage in the world. Conventionally the bishop-elected would be consecrated and celebrate Mass at St. Peter's, be crowned with the tiara, and then proceed to take possession of the Lateran cathedral. St. Peter's is not small either; it is nearly as long as the Titanic and can accommodate 60,000 people. And yet this did not suffice for Pope Paul.

Enter the modern spectacle of the Popes holding Paschal Masses, canonization Masses, and audiences outside the basilica for no reason other than the excess capacity offered by the square. Like a rock concert, the man on stage is the primary point of focus. We may say it is a Mass, but we all know, deep down, that the arrangers of these services are putting the person of the sitting pontiff on display rather than humbling him as a celebrant of Divine service within the more demanding confines of the basilica. Within St. Peter's the pope is one of 266 men to have held the office; the vertical focus of the basilica's inner lines draw attention from the celebrant of the Mass to the One Who the Mass honors. Outside, the celebrant is the one celebrated.

Above, Pope Paul is still vested in the unique garments of the papacy: the fanon, the sub-cincture, and the tiara. Despite the arrant use of an opportunity to show a big crowd in the television age, the pope, atop the sedia gestatoria, is layered well enough by his office that his own person did not dominate the event. A mere three years later those degrees of protection would be laid aside or donated to the United Nations. The modern Popemobile deifies the pope and dehumanizes him much more than the sedia gestatoria ever did: in the latter he was touchable and visible without any degree of separation, save for the previously noted ornaments of office; now he is dressed down to the level of a parish priest, but elevated above and shielded with bullet-proof glass, almost saying "The pope's presence among the people is so necessary that God and the Vatican automotive service demand he risk his Apostolic life." At last, the man's presence is more needed than his office's dignified visibility. This is the Papal version of the Mass of Paul VI, and Msgr. Bugnini had nothing to do with it.

We would like more than Francis, but after Pius XII, Paul VI, and John Paul II do we deserve it?

As an aside, this video shows several moments of the papal election procedure that crystallized during the Renaissance practiced for the last time: the votive Mass of the Holy Spirit at the altar at the throne, the "thrones" with collapsing tops in the Sistine chapel (after election all the cardinals would pull their's down and the canopy would denote the new pope), and cardinals vested in penitential violet rather than scarlet; monsignori wore black.

Did Pews Bring About the Pauline Mass?

source: traditionalcatholicism83.blogspot.com

Could the change in liturgical life brought about by the innovation of pews have contributed in no small part to the eventual introduction of the Mass of Paul VI? The basis was that the faithful in the pews were spectators, disengaged and thumbing through their rosaries, except during the sermon, and only communicating during Paschaltide. Participatio actuosa was necessary on the part of the congregants.

Why, we may ask five decades later, were they reduced to spectators at the act of baroque theater that had become of Mass—the "opera of the poor," as Voltaire put it? Yes, medieval English, French, and Italian were closer to Latin, but not so much closer that the faithful were so drastically less capable of comprehending the liturgy just a few centuries later. Consider what the faithful did during Mass in the first millennium: on great feasts there would be a night-long vigil, beginning outside the church. The pope or local ordinary would arrive for the Office and a procession would follow into the church proper. Then Mass would be celebrated. In the middle ages, there would be prayers and hymns around the church to the local saints, a procession would follow around the church and arrive at the rood screen, where prayers for the church were made in the vernacular, and then Mass would follow. In both cases the faithful stood unimpeded and were free to move about as the Spirit or their bodies compelled them. Those tired could take a break. Those wishing to pray quietly could disappear to a side chapel. Those especially moved could stand closer to the front. The call to Communion would been the movement of a crowd towards Christ, not unlike those who sought to hear Him preach on the coast on atop the Mount. Communion was not a linear parade.

How different was Mass with pews? First, the ritual itself was highly reduced: no processions, no night watches, no rites for the local saints. Just one or three clerics performing the Mass itself in a simple fashion. Then there was the pew. The faithful could not move, could not process, could not go somewhere to pray, could not do anything but sit still and watch for an hour. The only "break" in action was the possibility of a sermon. Gone were the rood screens and the air of mystery. Instead, an elevated altar behind a rail was viewed by a layman sitting on a bench. There was the mystery, to be watched by a remover spectator in plain sight.

As low Mass replaced high Mass as the norm, people were naturally further disengaged. Even in languages closer to Latin than our English—French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese—the faithful could not really do anything other than find means of diversion, means of entertainment.

If anyone doubts this thesis, and you are open to doing so, consider the 1955 Holy Week. Eight years before Sacrosanctum Concilium put "active participation" into our liturgical vocabulary and fourteen years before the new Mass ritual, Pius XII introduced a series of rites which have, as one of their stated goals the "living participation of he sacred ceremonies." Churchmen in 1955 understood "living participation" differently than churchmen in 1455 did. They wanted the priest to talk to the congregants and for the congregants to talk back to them, and what better way of doing that than facing them? Pius's Holy Week includes Palm Sunday (now "Second Sunday in Passiontide") and Holy Saturday (now "Easter Vigil") rites conducted at length atop a table versus populum in front of the actual altar. Ritually, it was likely an experiment to test how the faithful would receive it and to tweak the ceremonies for when the complete reform was ready for release.

Mass facing the people, what Geoffrey Hull called the "great narcissism," became a matter of fact in almost every parish by 1965.

Pews were not the immediate cause of the new liturgy, but they were a necessary cause.

Buffalo Wings: Modernism as Food

Initially I hoped to write something about why traddie communities attract unusual demographics (the very young, more males than usual, eccentrics and the like), but instead find myself obligated by a friend to write about—of all things—the Buffalo Wing.

I have been to the supposed invention point of a great many American staples. The burger came from a sandwich shop in New Haven called Louis' Lunch, where they will defenestrate you should you ask for ketchup. The "Buffalo wing" was born at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York—an industrial town without any sort of industry left. The food was not exceptional, but it was the only place where I have tasted that most manly of foods—the chicken wing—without wrongly, or rightly, thinking I must have consumed the stale remains of a Cornish hen covered in processed sugar. The meat clearly came from a fully grown chicken and the sauce was meant as a compliment. Why did the "wing" descend to the depths of poultry of the masses so quickly? It is culinary Novus Ordoism!

Yes, we have all moaned about the "Novus Ordo" at some point and "what they do in the Novus Ordo" blah blah blah.... as if it were a place. It is a state of mind that not only blends new fangled ideas of dubious orthodoxy and orthopraxis, but it retains the folkish elements of religion from its day. I think if I went to the nearest neo-con parish and presented the idea of moving adoration half an hour later and concatenating Vespers into it, they would toss me out faster than they would if I were a Society cleric.

So is the same with the Buffalo chicken wing: it retains its hearty origins as American comfort food like New York pizza and the burger, but became bastardized by the frozen food department and the likes of Buffalo Wild "Wings" until it became as the pizza under Domino's and the burger under McDonald's. The difference is that I can still find a good burger and a good pizza. I cannot find a good wing anywhere. Quomodo sedet sola civitas.