Liturgy Wars

In my experience, nothing divides the Catholic community more quickly or neatly than a discussion of liturgy. I was astounded when I came into the church, the passions that a simple change in liturgical practice could produce. Thus, it was no surprise when Cardinal Sarah’s invitation to resume a posture facing east during Advent was met with zealous language on both sides of the divide. At the risk of simplifying a complicated issue, it seems to me that we have in practice two different liturgical postures and they emphasize two different aspects of God’s presence: the transcendent and the immanent. Both can be done with reverence, because reverence is primarily a matter of the heart. I’ve found that it’s possible to be reverent—or irreverent—either way.

Celebrating the Mass facing east is ancient and venerable. Regardless of the origins of a change in posture, we also now have the gift of celebrating with priest and people facing each other and that seems to have meaning too: it reminds us of God present among us and a new and different sense of lay participation in the Mass. In short, one emphasizes the transcendent, the other the immanent, the great both/and mystery of God. Regardless of how we celebrate, we all face God together—either in our midst or beyond us. It seems pretty logical to me that, now having two postures at our disposal, it makes at least a little sense to find a way to use them both.

There’s an old story about a preacher’s son who, frightened by a thunderstorm, called his father in to his room. “Son,” his father said, “I’m here, but don’t you know that God is always with you and you don’t have to be afraid?”

“Yes, Daddy,” the boy replied. “But sometimes I need someone with skin on.”

Isn’t that at least part of the gift of the Incarnation? Sometimes we humans need someone with skin on. And perhaps it is that deep need that gave rise to the more recent custom of worshiping facing each other: a reminder of the Incarnation and of God still in our midst in the Eucharist and in each other. It’s important to remember God’s grandeur and transcendence, to whom we offer the sacrifice of the mass; it’s important to remember He is also closer to us than our very breath. To slight either is to neglect something of the mystery of God.

I’m so far away from having influence in the setting of liturgical practice that it’s laughable, but like every other Catholic I know, I have an opinion. In this case, a suggestion: maybe it makes sense to link posture to the great themes of the liturgical cycle and call a truce in the liturgy wars.

In Advent, when we expectantly await the birth of Jesus, celebrating facing east makes sense. We face the East, where the Messiah is expected. We stand together, facing the same way, hoping to catch the first glimpse of salvation.

On Christmas Day and through the Christmas season, we face each other, as we celebrate the newborn Christ is in our midst.

Come Epiphany, and Christ is revealed to the nations, it makes sense to face east again, together, showing Him to the world.

In Ordinary Time, when we listen to the teachings of Christ among us, face each other, gathered at the feet of Christ, like the disciples.

Ash Wednesday, we focus on our sinfulness and enter a time of penance. Perhaps then we face east, together, remembering that as a people we have sinned and we are connected in our humanness and in our sins that only God can forgive.

During Lent, we face east, as we journey following Christ to Jerusalem and the Crucifixion, so close that the dust of His sandals falls on our shoulders as we walk.

On Holy Thursday, perhaps face each other again, as we celebrate the gift Christ left in our midst: the Eucharist.

Easter Vigil and Sunday, we look to the rising sun and the Risen Lord, facing east together.

During the Easter season, until Ascension Day, face each other again as we celebrate the gift of the Risen Christ in our midst.

On Ascension Day, face East again as we together enter into the mystery of Christ’s Ascension and remain facing east through Pentecost as we await the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Liturgy is—at least in part-- a dialog between God and His people, a mystery made present, a gift to us. I’ve discovered it’s difficult to exaggerate the emotions tied to the use of either posture and from a practical perspective, those emotions can interfere with that dialog, cloud that mystery and obscure that gift. Some young Catholics who have discovered the beauty of facing east feel cheated that they were deprived of that option when that posture was discouraged, even suppressed. Older Catholics, for whom facing east is often tightly bound in their experience and their emotions to the Latin Mass, associate the suggestion to return to that posture as a retreat to a time they experienced as cold, authoritarian and unyielding. If we learn to use both orientations together rather than insist on one to the exclusion of the other, perhaps we might find a way past old grievances into a new and deeper way of worshiping in an ancient way, together.