Identity Theft - Give Us Back Our Holy Days!

Earlier this week I had occasion to consult the calendar for something or another and I noticed something that saddened me.  I was going to say "shocked and saddened" but unfortunately I can't say I was really shocked.

This year we only have three - THREE - holy days of obligaton which require us to hear Mass on a day other than Sunday!  By "we" I mean Catholics in most U.S. dioceses.  How can this be?

First - the three really, actually, obligatory holy days of obligation in the U.S. this year:

• January 1st - Mary, Mother of God (1970 calendar) or Circumcision of Our Lord (1962 calendar)
• December 8th - The Immaculate Conception
• December 25th - The Nativity of Our Lord

But... what about Ascension Thursday?  Sorry, in most dioceses that's transferred to the following Sunday. (Although usually not in Boston or Providence...)

Wait a minute - I know The Assumption is never transferred to a Sunday, right?  Maybe so, but this year the 15th of August happens to fall... on a Sunday!

OK, how about All Saints Day?  Nope, sorry, that's gone this year too.  You see, it falls on a Monday in 2010; and the U.S. Bishops apparently believe that having to attend Mass two days in a row would place an onerous burden on the People of God!

I haven't the time to research the entire history of holy days, but I can tell you what I do know.  Prior to 1911 there were at least eleven holy days of obligation in the calendar - in addition to the six which remain today there were The Epiphany, St. Joseph, Corpus Christi, The Nativity of St. John the Baptist, and Ss. Peter and Paul.  Pope St. Pius X removed the obligation for St. Joseph, Corpus Christi, and St. John the Baptist in 1911.  Later in the 20th century, we "lost" Epiphany and Ss. Peter and Paul, although some of these days are permanently or typically transferred to the following Sunday at this time.

I understand quite well that these liberalizations were undertaken in a spirit of charity.  As I recall, the reforms of St. Pius X were in consideration of the need to tend crops or earn a living - as on Sundays, one is supposed to abstain from servile work on a holy day.  I am reluctant to question the prudential judgments of the only 20th-century pope-saint, but I cannot help but wonder whether some other course of action  - perhaps a partial dispensation for workers under certain circumstances - might have helped to beter preserve Catholic identity.

As for the more recent innovations in this area, I feel far less charitable toward those of our shepherds who've seen fit to continually "define Catholicism down" in many ways.  In an age when nearly everyone who wants a car has one, is it really too difficult for a Catholic to attend Mass two days in a row if a holy day falls on a Saturday or a Monday?  At a time when the secular world is offering us more and more choices of activities for our leisure time, oughtn't the Church issue us an extra summons to the most glorious of activities, Holy Mass, now and again?

The bishops of the U.S. have a campaign this Lent to get Catholics back to confession.  This is a laudable intention, and you will hear not a word of complaint from me about it (although one might ask where they've been for the last forty years).  But perhaps they'd be better off starting a campaign to restore the presence of the Church in the world, and in the lives of Catholics.  Holy days are certainly a part of that presence, and I want my holy days back!

[I suppose it could be worse - the Diocese of Hawaii only has TWO!  Every year!  Just Immaculate Conception and Christmas.  Quelle dommage!]

A Tasty Take on the Ember Days

You know the Japanese style of frying vegetables and seafood, lightly battered, known as Tempura?  According to my dictionary the word is derived fron the Portuguese tempêro (seasoning).  Sounds a bit dubious, I mean to batter and fry something isn't to season it, and it's not like the Portuguese language lacks for words describing various methods of preparing foodstuffs, is it?

As usual, the real story is much more interesting.  Portuguese and Spanish missionaries in the mid-Sixteenth Century introduced this style of cooking meatless meals on days of fast and abstinence.  Apparently the locals loved it and it caught-on bigtime.  It took its name from a Latin name for the Ember Days, Quatour Tempora, i.e. "Four Times".  How's that for a little inculturation?

So you can tell that story to your friends next time you enjoy some shrimp or vegetable tempura at your favorite Asian restaurant and they'll marvel at your mastery of odd knowedge!

I meant to include this little tidbit in Wednesday's post but completely forgot.  Fortunately Fr. Z. had a mention of it today so I'm posting it now while it's still timely.

Ember Wednesday

Most Catholics under fifty don't know what Ember Days are.  Even those who follow the traditional calendar seem to get confused by them.  The Council didn't abolish them.  I'd always thought that Paul VI had done so in his decree on fasting and abstinence (Pænitimini) but it only removes the obligation to fast and (semi)-abstain.  In an Orwellian twist they were prominently mentioned in the norms issued for the revised calendar - they even got their own section - but were omitted from the calendar itself!  Of course the instruction that "the conferences of bishops should arrange the time and plan for their celebration" has carried about as much weight in the post-Conciliar Church as the prescriptions in Sacrosanctum Concilium that Latin be "retained" and Gregorian Chant be given "pride of place".

There are some good sources on the Internet to assist in understanding and observing the Ember Days:  I'd recommend the website - still extant - of the late and lamented Holy Trinity Parish in Boston for a good, quick overview of their purpose, significance, and practice.  Also, Fisheaters has some additional material on customs and traditions.  Finally, an excellent article by Dr. Michael Foley which contains some of the same material as the Holy Trinity website (he may have originally compiled it) and a good deal more.

It's always interesting to me that right in the midst of Lent, while we're already likely to be fasting and abstaining, we have three days on which in which we're expected to... fast and abstain!  Nowadays, with the greatly relaxed rules of Fast and Abstinence, they may in fact be an occasion for the temporary escalation of one's Lenten mortifications.  But in the "bad old days" when adult Catholics were bound to fast throughout all of Lent - not just on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday - and abstain on all of the Fridays of the year, it's difficult to see what more one could do in that regard.  But in the other seasons of the year they served a useful role as a sort or quarterly spiritual tune-up, I like to think of them as "mini-Lents".  Seems like we could use some of that sort of thing these days.

The other thing about the Ember Days that has always piqued my interest is the liturgical oddities which mark the Masses celebrated on those days.  Frequently there are extra readings - the Ember Wednesday in Lent has an Old Testament lesson, an Epistle, and the Gospel.  The Ember Saturdays are even wilder, with as many as seven readings, complete with Graduals and prayers interspersed, and genuflections not unlike those of Good Friday.  In fact the Ember Days share with the liturgies of Holy Week the deviation from the usual liturgical schema and the addition of extra readings and prayers.

(So, after writing this I went off to Mass at noontime, but to my surprise Father appeared in RED vestments!  Seems it was the feast of St. Matthias, which according to the Ordo trumps the Ember Day although it does get a commemoration.  I learn something new every day...)

Giving it up for Lent...

One year about a dozen years ago my wife and I gave up television for Lent.  A habit was well and truly broken, and to this day we watch very little t.v.  About the only thing I watch nowadays is the Red Sox, who are an obession a enduring pastime no matter how I follow them.

On the other hand, every year I give up drinking for Lent.  Of course I have a drink on Sunday, and a pint (or two) of Guinness on St. Patrick's Day - it's a feast day, for goodness sake - but nonetheless I look forward to a bottle of good wine with the Easter Lamb.  And thereafter...

This blogging venture is still a new game to me, and I'm someone who annually tries to curtail my Internet usage during The Great Fast.  So you can probably tell where I'm going here. Do I give this thing, this bloggin' thing, up until after Easter?

After some consideration I came to the decision that I will follow the same principles that I follow for other pleasures during Lent:

1.) Moderation is sometimes more realistic than unrealistic attempts at outright privation,
2.) Sundays are not really part of Lent (don't believe me?  Count the days from Ash Wednesday through Holy Saturday... forty-six!  Now subtract the (six) Sundays to get... forty!)
3.) One shouldn't fast on a feast,

Thus, I shall limit my posting to matters spirtual and ecclesial, except on Sundays (Saturday night until Monday morning) and real feasts, e.g. St. Patrick, St. Joseph, The Annunciation... OTOH, it would probably be unseemly to post a rant about J. F. Kerry's botox treatments or Nancy Pelosi's windsurfing (or vice versa) on a solemn feast day in the midst of Lent, so I'll probably just save any meanderings regarding the Red Sox for those days.

My poor wife, the um, er, "Archduchess"?  "Archlaywoman"?  What does one call oneself, who is married to a man who has delusions of Archlaity? (Archlaicy?)  Perhaps I should just refer to her as I do at home: "she-who-must-be-obeyed"!  Anyway, poor girl, she'll have to deal with me for the next seven weeks without the mollifying influences of my Martini and the (full) outlet of my little blog.  Do pray for her!

Septuagesima versus "Ordinary Time"

The one thing the average Catholic - and even a halfway-informed non-Catholic - knows about Vatican II is that "it changed the Mass". But even today, nearly forty-five years after the close of the Council, Catholics are amazed to learn that many of the elements of the "new" Mass which visibly differentiate it from the "traditional" Mass were either not mandated by the Council or even contrary to Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Council's "Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy".

I am not alone in asserting that the post-Conciliar reforms - perhaps it would be more accurate to refer to them as "re-forms" - did incalculable damage to the Catholic Church. Indeed, Pope Benedict XVI has expressed himself on this subject many times, both in his years as Cardinal and - less bluntly of course - as Pope. After nearly five years on the Throne of Peter one can readily discern the twin themes of Christian Unity and restoring Catholic Identity in nearly all of his acts. Manifestly he has his work cut out for him.

The liturgical revolution was particularly responsible for shattering a once-unified sense of Catholic identity and decimating the influence of Catholic culture in our societies, both in Catholic Europe and secular America. Although I grew up during these tumultuous years it wasn't until I returned almost exclusively to the traditional Mass about ten years ago that I gradually began to understand how much damage the changes to the liturgical calendar had wrought in these areas.

This morning, preparing to herd the gang off to Mass, I glanced at the calendar and realized that it was Septuagesima, the beginning of the pre-Lenten season which unaccountably vanished some time around 1970. This, despite the Council's instruction that "the traditional customs and discipline of the sacred seasons shall be preserved or restored... their specific character is to be retained, so that they duly nourish the piety of the faithful...", not to mention the five paragraphs in Sacrosanctum Concilium about Lent itself.

The two great feasts of the Christian faith, Easter and Christmas, are both preceeded by seasons of penitential observance and preparation. One wonders whether modern liturgists, given carte blanche, would have have rescheduled them exactly six months apart to "balance" the liturgical year. It's not so far-fetched, nothing was untouchable to these guys*. Thankfully they never got around to that particular "improvement" and so we're stuck with the traditional dates. As such, the interval between Christmastide and Lent can be quite short, especially in a year when Easter is early. Rather than letting us fetch up abruptly at the doorstep of Lent on Ash Wednesday, Holy Mother Church in Her wisdom has given us the season of Septuagesima to help us make a thoughtful and gradual transition into Lent. While individual Catholics do not observe Lenten mortifications during this period, we are gradually reoriented toward the austerities of Lent by the more somber presentation of the liturgy - violet vestments are worn, and both the Alleluia and the Gloria are omitted as during Lent.

It is interesting to note that the Eastern Churches, both Catholic and Orthodox, retain a three-week "pre-Lenten" period before the beginning of the "Great Lent". There is little question that this tradition, and the Western observance of Septuagesima, both find their origin in early Christian practice. Funny, isn't it, that along with liturgical "renewal" another of the hallmarks of Vatican II was ecumenism? Perhaps one must be a specially-trained liturgist to understand how the practical abolition of Septuagesima serves either to promote unity with the Orthodox or to fulfill the mandate of Sacrosanctum Conclilium to preserve and restore traditional customs and disciplines. As the late Michael Davies might say, "well, it's a point of view!"

In Martin Mosebach's wonderful book The Heresy of Formlessness he referred to the liturgy as "lived religion". I'm not sure the phrase is original to Mosebach, but it's definitely apt. If the liturgy is not permitted to permeate our lives, or if it is drastically pruned of the externals which have for centuries marked the passage of our years, it will fail to inspire us toward the fullest possible appreciation of the sacred mysteries it embodies. In Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye tells us "because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is, and what God expects him to do". We Catholics are the spiritual descendents of the Jews, are we not likewise entitled to retain - and cherish - the worthy traditions which our Church has given us to help guide us through our earthly pilgrimage?

Our sense of identity as Catholics is impovershed, as is our culture, by the loss of the pre-Lenten season of Septuagesima. We should pray that Pope Benedict's liturgical restoration will ultimately include the restoration of the traditional elements of the liturgical calendar which enrich our lives and draw us closer to God.

UPDATE - There's a nice post on Septuagesima over on the New Liturgical Movement, including an analysis from the estimable Father F. X. Weiser, S.J. which I'd not seen before. (Amongst his other accomplishments, Fr. Weiser was pastor of Holy Trinity in Boston in the 1940's)

*The Consilium - the post-Conciliar body charged with implementing the liturgical renewal - actually considered moving the date of Christmas and also proposed changing the duration of Lent by moving Ash Wednesday to a Sunday! Imagine, singing that well known hymn "Lord, Who Throughout These Forty Thirty-six Days". This "nothing sacred" attitude toward our traditions lives on in the episcopal conferences who have routinely transferred the Feast of the Epiphany to the Sunday between January 2nd-8th, resulting in a generation of Catholics who have no idea that the "Twelve Days of Christmas" has anything to do with the liturgical year...