M
mcliffor
Guest
And this is very close to what I mean when I say people aren’t able to appreciate symbols of the sacred…
Here is an excerpt from an article on the silent canon:
A Homily Preached At The Launch Of CIEL U.K.
At St. James’ Spanish Place, London
Saturday 1st March 1997
by a priest of the Oratory
"When someone attends the classical rite for the first time, they are often surprised that what is obviously the most important part of the liturgical action is done in silence. Even at sung Mass, as today, the consecration happens in silence. It is true, regrettably, that at certain times in our liturgical history there have been abuses in this connexion, organ music overlaying the consecration and other indignities. Nevertheless, the classical pattern of the traditional Roman rite is that after the Sanctus has been sung, silence descends, broken only by the bell. This is the essential glory of the classical rite, the very heart of the matter. I do believe that in our noisy, clamorous modern world, this silence is even more necessary than it was for earlier generations.
The reason for the silence is, that at a very early stage in the Church’s liturgical awareness, it was realized that the miracles of grace which occur during the canon should not risk trivialization by being spoken out loud as if the sacred words which effected these miracles were simply in the normal run of ordinary speech. The mystery of the Real Presence, the miracle of transubstantiation, the subsequent pleading of the oblation, all this is the stuff of heaven, heaven come down to earth. Perhaps we would better say that in the canon, earth is raised to heaven. In the canon, the worshipping Church does not sink into silence. No, the truth is, that we rise into silence, a contemplative, anointed silence, over which the Holy Ghost is hovering, a timeless silence which breathes the life of heaven.
The pious and traditional instinct of the Church is that the Lord’s astounding words over bread and cup should be breathed again only in a hushed and reverent whisper by the unworthy human agent of the miracle, the priest who is acting in persona Christi. These are not words to say aloud, much less, heaven forbid, to sing aloud. These are words of love, words to whisper in awe and trembling. These are the words of the new and everlasting covenant which changed the world for ever. These are the words which make the Mystery of Faith accessible to humankind, at every moment of every day, until the Lord returns.
In the canon of the Mass, after the consecration, the veil which separates this world from paradise is never so thin, never so slight. We may recall here Mgr.Ronald Knox’s felicitous comparison of the eucharistic presence with “the window in the wall”. With the eyes of faith we are placed so as to be able to look beyond this world, deep into that transcendent reality which is Christ. Indeed, for a few precious moments, the Son of God will come among us; Eternity Himself. Eternity in Person makes Himself present. The silence of the canon which surrounds that presence helps us to appreciate the timelessness of Christ. For the Lord Who becomes present is the living Lord, the Lord of resurrection, no longer bound by His own laws of space and time. He is the power, the strength, the beauty that fills and animates all creation. His majesty is to be waited on in silence, and adored in silence.
In the silence of the canon, the external signs of the liturgical action become even more poignant: the genuflexions, the manual gestures of the celebrant, the repeated signs of the cross over the oblata. These numerous signs of the cross made over the oblata after the consecration are just as important, indeed I venture to suggest perhaps even more important, than those made before the consecration. After the elements of bread and wine have been changed into Christ Himself, the Church repeatedly signs them with the sign of the cross, not of course in order to bless them, for all possible blessing has already occurred in the miracle of transubstantiation. No, the crossings are to designate the oblata, again and again, as the matter of the sacrifice, the very same body and blood that were offered on the cross, now glorified and truly present upon the altar. I am convinced that to omit the crossings after the consecration risks weakening our faith in the identity of the sacrifice of the Mass with the sacrifice of the Cross. In the silence of the canon, that total identity is explicitly affirmed, with the liturgical gestures of the celebrant proclaiming the Cross as powerfully as any words could utter. There are so many things that we should know and say about the Holy Sacrifice. "
Here is an excerpt from an article on the silent canon:
A Homily Preached At The Launch Of CIEL U.K.
At St. James’ Spanish Place, London
Saturday 1st March 1997
by a priest of the Oratory
"When someone attends the classical rite for the first time, they are often surprised that what is obviously the most important part of the liturgical action is done in silence. Even at sung Mass, as today, the consecration happens in silence. It is true, regrettably, that at certain times in our liturgical history there have been abuses in this connexion, organ music overlaying the consecration and other indignities. Nevertheless, the classical pattern of the traditional Roman rite is that after the Sanctus has been sung, silence descends, broken only by the bell. This is the essential glory of the classical rite, the very heart of the matter. I do believe that in our noisy, clamorous modern world, this silence is even more necessary than it was for earlier generations.
The reason for the silence is, that at a very early stage in the Church’s liturgical awareness, it was realized that the miracles of grace which occur during the canon should not risk trivialization by being spoken out loud as if the sacred words which effected these miracles were simply in the normal run of ordinary speech. The mystery of the Real Presence, the miracle of transubstantiation, the subsequent pleading of the oblation, all this is the stuff of heaven, heaven come down to earth. Perhaps we would better say that in the canon, earth is raised to heaven. In the canon, the worshipping Church does not sink into silence. No, the truth is, that we rise into silence, a contemplative, anointed silence, over which the Holy Ghost is hovering, a timeless silence which breathes the life of heaven.
The pious and traditional instinct of the Church is that the Lord’s astounding words over bread and cup should be breathed again only in a hushed and reverent whisper by the unworthy human agent of the miracle, the priest who is acting in persona Christi. These are not words to say aloud, much less, heaven forbid, to sing aloud. These are words of love, words to whisper in awe and trembling. These are the words of the new and everlasting covenant which changed the world for ever. These are the words which make the Mystery of Faith accessible to humankind, at every moment of every day, until the Lord returns.
In the canon of the Mass, after the consecration, the veil which separates this world from paradise is never so thin, never so slight. We may recall here Mgr.Ronald Knox’s felicitous comparison of the eucharistic presence with “the window in the wall”. With the eyes of faith we are placed so as to be able to look beyond this world, deep into that transcendent reality which is Christ. Indeed, for a few precious moments, the Son of God will come among us; Eternity Himself. Eternity in Person makes Himself present. The silence of the canon which surrounds that presence helps us to appreciate the timelessness of Christ. For the Lord Who becomes present is the living Lord, the Lord of resurrection, no longer bound by His own laws of space and time. He is the power, the strength, the beauty that fills and animates all creation. His majesty is to be waited on in silence, and adored in silence.
In the silence of the canon, the external signs of the liturgical action become even more poignant: the genuflexions, the manual gestures of the celebrant, the repeated signs of the cross over the oblata. These numerous signs of the cross made over the oblata after the consecration are just as important, indeed I venture to suggest perhaps even more important, than those made before the consecration. After the elements of bread and wine have been changed into Christ Himself, the Church repeatedly signs them with the sign of the cross, not of course in order to bless them, for all possible blessing has already occurred in the miracle of transubstantiation. No, the crossings are to designate the oblata, again and again, as the matter of the sacrifice, the very same body and blood that were offered on the cross, now glorified and truly present upon the altar. I am convinced that to omit the crossings after the consecration risks weakening our faith in the identity of the sacrifice of the Mass with the sacrifice of the Cross. In the silence of the canon, that total identity is explicitly affirmed, with the liturgical gestures of the celebrant proclaiming the Cross as powerfully as any words could utter. There are so many things that we should know and say about the Holy Sacrifice. "
). But, no, we should hear it, all the more so that we hear it always. I’ve been walking in the halls at school and heard in my mind “On the night before He was handed over to suffering and death…took bread in His Sacred Hands…this is My Blood…do this in memory of Me” and known He was right there with me. Silence on our part, yes, but not on the priest’s, who acts in persona Christi.
, esp. to #1.
