Mass “Facing the People” as Counter-Catechesis and Irreligion

The essence of the Mass is not that it is a communal gathering, for there are many sorts of communal gatherings that are not Masses, and, as the Church has consistently taught, a Mass celebrated privately by a priest and a server, or even in a case of necessity, by a priest alone, is still a true and proper Mass. No, the essence of the Mass is the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on Calvary, made present anew in the immolation of the Victim under the species of bread and wine, and offered again to the Father as a sweet-smelling oblation for the salvation of the world. This, and not the circle of people who may or may not gather around the table, is the essence of the Mass.

As a consequence, the Mass is a theocentric prayer. It is ordered to God. As the Gloria sings: propter magnam gloriam tuam, for the sake of Thy great glory; or in the words of the doxology at the end of the Canon: “All glory and honor are Thine, Almighty Father…” Yes, the Mass was given to us by Our Lord at the Last Supper for our benefit, but it benefits us precisely by ordering us to God first, giving Him the primacy that is His by nature and by conquest. We are benefited by being subordinated to God, yielding ourselves to Him as a rational sacrifice (cf. Rom 12:1); we profit from being decentered on ourselves and recentered on Him, our first beginning and last end.

It is exactly for these reasons that celebration of the Mass versus populum or “facing the people” is not merely an unfortunate aberration based on poor scholarship and democratic-socialist habits of thought endemic to modern Westerners. It is a contradiction of the essence of the Mass and a distortion of the proper relationship of man to God. Because of its inversion of the proper directionality of the worshiping community, people and priest alike, to the uncreated Font and Origin, it functions as a sort of “immunization” against the rational self-sacrifice that turns our souls and our bodies towards the Father, in union with His beloved Son, whose meat is to do the Father’s will, not His own as a man (cf Jn 4:34; Jn 6:38).

To privilege a partial, secondary truth over the fundamental truth is to inculcate untruth.

We can see this if we look at the history of Christian heresy. When the Arians privileged the truth that the Son is in some sense less than the Father (cf Jn 14:28) but neglected the more fundamental truth that He is God—God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God—they inculcated an untruth, for the Son is not less than the Father simply speaking.

When the Pelagians privileged the truth that man is not saved without his own effort, but neglected the more fundamental truth that even our efforts are God’s gift and that without His aid we can do nothing, they inculcated an untruth, for we are saved not by works simply speaking.

When the Protestants privileged the truth that Jesus Christ is our Savior but neglected the truth that He saves us in and through a visible body, the Church, of which we must become members in order to benefit from His saving action, they inculcated an untruth, for there is no salvation outside of the body of the Savior. A subjective conviction that “I am saved” has nothing to do with what we see happening in the New Testament, let alone the history of the early Church.

When modern-day European liberals privilege the truth that man has innate dignity but neglect the truth that his dignity is not absolute or independent of his social nature with its ensuing obligations towards society and its susceptibility to just punishment up to and including death, they inculcate an untruth, for neither death nor the punitive sovereignty of civil authority is contrary to human dignity simply speaking.

In all of these examples (and of course they could be multiplied almost indefinitely), we see how the emphasis of a partial truth taken out of the context of the network of truths that give it meaning results in the establishment of a false system of belief, an -ism that separates itself from Catholicism.

I maintain that the same is true of versus populum. When liturgical reformers privileged the idea of a communal gathering for table fellowship, but neglected the more fundamental truth (recognized as de fide dogma by Trent) that the Mass is the unbloody representation of the bloody Sacrifice of the Cross, they inculcated an untruth, for the Mass is not first and foremost a group doing something together, but Jesus Christ offering Himself in sacrifice and granting us the opportunity to unite ourselves to this perfect, all-sufficient offering, in which our very salvation consists. It is the man who has, over his lifetime, become one with Jesus on the Cross who will be saved, not the man who gets together with friends to reminisce about the itinerant preacher of kindness from Nazareth. The emphasis of a partial truth (that the Mass is a social or communal event involving edible refreshment), when taken out of the context of the larger dogma that gives this event its meaning and power (that the Mass is the sacrifice of Christ, Head and members), falsifies the partial truth and in fact makes it to be harmful, in the same way as Arianism, Pelagianism, and Protestantism are harmful, although each is built upon a truth.

Celebration of the Liturgy of the Eucharist facing the people necessarily decontextualizes and falsifies the social nature of the Mass and unavoidably (even if, in many instances, contrary to the devout wishes of its celebrant) suppresses its theocentric essence. For this reason, it inculcates a false understanding of the Mass, effectively decatechizing the faithful as to its true nature. It does not simply tilt the emphasis to one side or the other; it cancels out the orientation that is demanded by the very meaning of sacrifice, which is to be offered manifestly to God alone. He alone, moreover, deserves and demands our adoration, and if it is not clear that we are united together in adoration of the One who alone is worthy of latreia or divine worship, then the unique right of God to such worship in spirit and in truth has been compromised or canceled out.

If we recall that “religion” names for St. Thomas Aquinas the moral virtue by which we offer to God what is owed to Him by means of external signs and rites (cf. Summa theologiae II-II, q. 81), it would be accurate to say that ad orientem worship and versus populum ‘worship’ are the expression of different “religions,” at least in the sense that something different is being displayed and given.

The problem, then, is not merely that the practice of celebrating Mass “towards the people” has no foundation whatsoever in the history of Catholic or Orthodox worship. No, it is much worse than an unfortunate sociological aberration, like the current fashion of body-piercing. The use of versus populum erodes and corrupts the faith of the people as to the very essence of the Mass and the adoration of God propter magnam gloriam eius — the absolute primacy of God over man, and the corresponding duty of man to subordinate himself to God, as opposed to the ancient sophists and enlightened moderns who unite in the error that “man is the measure of all things.”

The "Benedictine altar arrangement" in a Mass versus populum

Years ago, I used to think that the “Benedictine altar arrangement,” whereby six candles and a crucifix are placed on the front of the altar between the congregation and the celebrant (with the crucifix facing the celebrant as a resting point for his gaze), was an imperfect but valid temporary solution to the dramatic pastoral crisis of the anthropocentric inversion of the Mass. I still believe it is better, all things considered, if only to break up the closed circle and offer visual respite from the tête-à-tête, but I can no longer see it as adequate to the magnitude of the problem.

The placement of six candles and a crucifix on the west side of the altar, useful though it may seem as an “instant fix,” creates two major problems of its own. First, it leaves the false orientation intact, as the priest is still standing with his back to the East (and, in a church with a centrally-located tabernacle, his back to the Lord!), towards the West which — as indicated in the Byzantine rite of baptism — symbolizes the kingdom of darkness. The idea of a “virtual East” represented by the crucifix, while clever, is too cerebral; it is contradicted by the “body language” of the sanctuary, the altar, and the priest.

Second, it throws up an arbitrary barrier between the celebrant and the people, in a way that never happens in ad orientem worship, where everyone faces the same direction and feels the unity of this common orientation.  That is, it could subtly accentuate the “priest over against people” mood that is already such an annoying characteristic of the Novus Ordo, which was composed by clericalists masquerading as populists.

I am not at all opposed to the existence of real, permanent barriers in a church whenever they make sense liturgically and ceremonially: the ancient curtains around the baldachin, the chancel screen or rood screen, the iconostasis, the communion rail. Such barriers articulate liturgical space and provide for a meaningful progression of ministers and actions, while catechizing the faithful about hierarchy, sacredness, and eschatology. But introducing a line of furnishings on the western end of an altar in order to make up (somehow) for the lack of a proper common orientation is arbitrary. It looks temporary and temporizing, as it is, and more often than not, marks an awkward caesura in the sanctuary, like a divider between office cubicles.

In versus populum is symbolized and promoted the anthropocentrism of modernity; its forgetfulness of God; its refusal to order all created reality to the uncreated source; its humanistic this-worldliness, which does not decisively subordinate the here and now to the Lord, the Orient, who has come and who will come again to judge the living and the dead. With this change alone, the liturgical ethos or consciousness of Christianity was shattered. If the old Mass were suddenly to be celebrated versus populum, in the manner in which the Novus Ordo generally is, it would be totally undermined by this one change; if the reformed Mass were to be celebrated ad orientem, this liturgical prodigal son would, by that metanoia, have already begun its journey back to the father’s house.

So much depends on the priest and the people facing east together, that it would be no exaggeration to say that orthodox Christianity will thrive only where public prayer is thus offered, and will suffer attrition wherever it has been abandoned.

The eastward stance and all that it symbolizes and implies is not a mere accident, an incidental feature that we can take or leave, like this or that style of chasuble. It is a constitutive element of the rite of the Holy Sacrifice. We should stop pretending that this is a matter of “six or one-half dozen,” a case of de gustibus non disputandum. A Mass that refuses to orient itself in continuity with the universal tradition and theology of Christian worship is irregular, harmful to the priest and people whom it malforms in an anthropocentric mentality, harmful to the Mystical Body in which it perpetuates rupture and discontinuity, and less pleasing to God whom it deprives of due adoration.

Putting Christ at the Center: On the Benedictine Arrangement

Pope Benedict XVI was well known for introducing, in the context of the celebration of the modern Roman Rite, a more traditional arrangement of the candles and crucifix upon the altar—namely, the “big six” with the cross in the middle (or, at times, seven candles—a privilege of bishops). The reason he decisively returned to this arrangement is quite simple: it greatly helps the celebrant and the faithful alike to perceive and thus to reverence the greatness of the altar of sacrifice, and, in that connection, to turn their interior gaze to Jesus Christ, who stands at the very center of the liturgical action. It is, in short, a re-centering of the community upon the Alpha and Omega, the One who offers Himself up for our salvation and makes us participants in His offering. The priest is no longer the center of attention: he is merely the “animated instrument” (as St. Thomas would say) of the Eternal High Priest. He steps back, as did St. John the Baptist, saying: “He must increase, I must decrease.”

Shifting the center of gravity from a minister to the solid and silent sacred altar and the Lord it represents and bears upon itself is a long-overdue antidote for the dreadful spirit of horizontal community-fixation and the cult of personality that entered into the Catholic Church with the abandonment of worship eastward (ad orientem). Wherever the priest and people worship facing eastwards, the Benedictine arrangement is not really necessary, although it remains beautiful and fitting. But wherever the priest is still following the novel custom of facing the people (novel because it breaks with almost 2,000 years of Christian practice), something like the Benedictine arrangement is absolutely necessary in order to preserve the meaning of the eastward orientation.

In chapter 3 of his masterpiece The Spirit of the Liturgy, Ratzinger make this point with his customary eloquence:

         The turning of the priest toward the people has turned the community into a self-enclosed circle. In its outward form, it no longer opens out on what lies ahead and above, but is locked into itself. The common turning toward the East was not a “celebration toward the wall”; it did not mean that the priest “had his back to the people”: the priest himself was not regarded as so important. For just as the congregation in the synagogue looked together toward Jerusalem, so in the Christian Liturgy the congregation looked together “toward the Lord.”
         [A] common turning to the East during the Eucharistic Prayer remains essential. This is not a case of accidentals, but of essentials. Looking at the priest has no importance. What matters is looking together at the Lord.
         Moving the altar cross to the side to give an uninterrupted view of the priest is something I regard as one of the truly absurd phenomena of recent decades. Is the cross disruptive during Mass? Is the priest more important than Our Lord?

And there is the passage where Ratzinger says that even if, at this juncture, restoring the correct orientation of worship may not be possible in every place, nevertheless it is high time to reestablish, in an obvious visible way, the primacy and centrality of Jesus Christ in the celebration of His Holy Sacrifice, and that the easiest and simplest way to do this is to put the altar cross right back where it belongs, in the very front and center of everything. Those who are familiar with Ratzinger will recognize the themes: the Church is called upon not to preach herself, to exhibit herself and offer prayers from and to herself, but rather to preach Christ Crucified, to point always to Him, to make clear the path to Him from whom all prayer begins and in whom all prayer culminates.

Given this luminous teaching and example, it is worth pointing out that Pope Francis said much the same thing when addressing an assembly of Jesuits in Rome on July 31, 2013. Although he was not speaking specifically about the sacred liturgy, what he said is an echo and elaboration of Ratzinger’s theologia crucis:

The emblem of us Jesuits is a monogram, the acronym of “Jesus, the Saviour of Mankind” (IHS). Every one of you can tell me: we know that very well! But this crest continually reminds us of a reality that we must never forget: the centrality of Christ for each one of us and for the whole Company, the Company that Saint Ignatius wanted to name “of Jesus” to indicate the point of reference. Moreover, even at the beginning of the Spiritual Exercises he places our Lord Jesus Christ, our Creator and Saviour (Spiritual Exercises, 6) in front of us. And this leads all of us Jesuits, and the whole Company, to be “decentered,” to have “Christ more and more” before us, the “Deus semper maior”, the “intimior intimo meo”, that leads us continually outside ourselves, that brings us to a certain kenosis, a “going beyond our own loves, desires, and interests” (Sp. Ex.,189). Isn’t it obvious, the question for us? For all of us? “Is Christ the center of my life? Do I really put Christ at the center of my life?” Because there is always the temptation to want to put ourselves in the center.

That is the fundamental question: Do we really put Christ at the center of the Mass? Or do we somehow manage to put ourselves there, where He alone should be?

Celebrants: Assuming the best intentions on your part, have you considered the fact that in the absence of the Benedictine altar arrangement, it can look, in practice, as if you're meant to be the center of attention? Should it not be Christ who is manifestly the center of the Mass, so that all eyes are fixed on the unique sign of God’s ineffable love for us, the Cross? Do our souls, with humble adoration, focus on the altar, whence the streams of His plentiful redemption are poured forth? For this, indeed, is what is objectively going on at any validly offered Mass, but we foolish humans can find a thousand and one ways to hide, cover, distort, or otherwise detract from that reality. Instead, we should do everything in our power to make the liturgy look and feel like what it really is.

If you have not yet adopted the Benedictine arrangement, what are you waiting for? How about the solemn liturgies coming up at Christmas? There is no better time to take a step like this than the holiest of our holy days, when Christ as Alpha and Omega should break through all the more into our minds and hearts.

If, on the other hand, you have already adopted the Benedictine arrangement in your community, think carefully about the next step that might be taken to lead the faithful into a still more profound participation in the awesomeness of the immortal and life-giving mysteries.

(For inspiration, below are photos of very different sanctuaries and altars that demonstrate the Benedictine arrangement. It will be noted that in some cases the crucifix is too small in proportion to the candles and that a larger crucifix would serve better symbolically and aesthetically. Please note, also, that a placement of seven candles is for episcopal liturgies, since the seventh candle is a privilege of the bishop.)

The Benedictine Arrangement in Homiletic and Pastoral Review

I was very pleased to discover an article by Fr. Stefan Heid posted on the first of this year over at the Homiletic and Pastoral Review website entitled "Cross, Altar and the Right Way of Praying," encouraging the revival of the Roman practice of placing the crucifix on the altar even for versus populum celebrations. Here's just a taste to get you interested:

There will no doubt be some clashes with liturgical committees, when pastors, choosing to follow Roman custom, begin taking their altar crosses out of the closet. In order to forestall precipitous reactions in these debates, we would like to establish the larger context in which the discussion belongs. There are a number of liturgical practices that have disappeared from use over centuries. Without a reflective look at these rituals, however, it could easily happen that even the loveliest of liturgical directives would shrivel into meaningless formalism.

The sacrificial action of the Eucharist takes place on the altar, within a continuous current of prayer: from the prayer over the gifts, through the Eucharistic Prayer, to the Our Father. In this respect, the Eucharistic action is markedly different from the liturgy of the Word that precedes it. The ambo is, strictly speaking, not a place of prayer; the Opening Prayer is better placed at the celebrant’s chair. In the usus antiquior, the priest is always standing at the altar, and almost always praying! The silent prayers are neither private prayers nor mere time-fillers (i.e., horror vacui), but rather to make the altar a place of unceasing prayer.

Once this point has been acknowledged, the implication is that the priest at the altar takes on a different attitude, or mindset, than he has anywhere else. Here he stands, first and foremost, as one who prays. Christianity recognizes this distinctive prayer posture where the priest raises his hands, as well as his eyes. The raising of hands and eyes belongs, inseparably, to the gesture of early Christian prayer, just as Jesus himself practiced in the Jewish tradition. Standing in prayer is also part of this tradition, seen as a fundamental posture for one in prayer; on one’s knees praying, likewise, uses elevated hands and eyes, all dating back to early Christianity. Since the Middle Ages, this prayer posture, with hands and eyes raised, has faded somewhat from practice. Now, it is only the priest raising his hands (and eyes for only a few short moments) because he is reading prayers. He does look up, for instance, in the Roman canon at the time of the consecration while speaking the words: “et elevatis oculis in coelum”. Therefore, Jesus inaugurates the Eucharist “with eyes raised to heaven.”

Even in the ordo novus, the rubric at this point reads: “He (the priest) raises his eyes.” But where exactly is the priest supposed to be looking, at the church ceiling? So when the priest in reciting a prayer is required to look upward, rather than simply staring into space, the obvious focal point is a high-standing cross on the main altar.

Of course, the practice of having a cross on the altar facing the priest is not only needed for a few isolated moments. It has a more general purpose. When the priest stands at the altar in unceasing prayer to God, he will be gazing at God’s Son, through whom his every petition, his every word of praise, is, in fact, offered.

Since God is creator, the world is not chaotic, but a universe divinely fashioned and providentially ordered. There is an “above” and a “below,” or in scriptural terms, upon the heavens his throne is set, earth is his footstool. (Source.)

There are a number of important ideas in play here. First, at a larger level, it strikes me as Fr. Heid has the knack of thinking symbolically, and inhabiting the larger universe of signs that makes authentic liturgy both theologically and intellectually such a joyous experience, something which modern man has largely lost, or, in some instances, exchanged for a dry literalism that sees symbolism as a rather superficial affair of one-to-one correspondences. Secondly, he is interpreting the directives of the liturgy in a larger context, that of their rubrical and historical development--essentially a nutshell version of "mutual enrichment," and a sure medicine against the tendency to reinvent the wheel that even tradition-minded priests may fall into when considering the modern form of the mass in a vacuum.

These are very positive developments, and show, for all our murmurationes about the slow pace of liturgical reform, just how far the spirit of Summorum Pontificium has begun to permeate the way we think about both forms of the Roman liturgy. The whole article is definitely worth your time.

One final digression: Fr. Heid's comments are a good opportunity to bring up the fact that the altar crucifix spoken of in the IGMR is, historically speaking, somewhat different in provenance from the enormous sanctuary crosses that have become the norm in most American churches over the past century. Fr. Heid points out:

Finally, it is further objected that an altar cross creates a doubling of crucifixes, in the case that a cross already hangs above or behind the altar. However, the cross on the altar is for the priest, facing him with its corpus, while the faithful look at their cross above the altar.

The two are functionally different items, and even when a large crucifix was hung over the altar in the context of the Usus Antiquior, a smaller crucifix was permitted for the priest's "private" use as part of the altar's furnishings. While rubrically, it might be dispensed with if indeed the altarpiece was ornamented with a painting or sculpture of the crucifixion, the fact the dispensation was granted at all would appear to indicate that it was more normative to have an altar cross rather than to have a large reredos displaying the crucifixion, and to have both was no redundancy. Even today the current IGMR does not forbid several images of Our Lord in a church, and has considerably softened its stance on the multiplication of other images. (Though, of course, the tatty clutter of 19th century kitsch ought not to simply be substituted for the barren void of twentieth century faddiness. Let us not turn our churches into dioramas entitled The History of Tacky, but rather strike for balance, clarity and noble beauty.) Church-builders and clergy should remember that, while a large altarpiece with the crucifixion is a good and fine thing, it is still something of a historical and geographical novelty. In the end it is the crucifix on the altar which is the most pure expression of traditional liturgical praxis.

On Ordination and Orientation

A French reader of NLM sent me these photos of a recent priestly ordination in the French diocese of Bayonne. The bishop, Msgr. Marc Aillet, is author of The Old Mass and the New (Ignatius Press, 2010), which provides a strong defense of the Motu Proprio Summorum Pontificum. Unlike most of the French hierarchy, Bishop Aillet supports, in both word and deed, the "new Liturgical Movement" or "reform of the reform" as called for and articulated by Pope Benedict XVI.

On a tangential note, while concelebrating the ordination Mass held in my own diocese last Saturday, the thought occurred to me during the Litany of Supplication: If the bishop can turn around to face the apse as we invoke the aid of God and the saints, then why not during the other parts of the Mass when God is directly addressed? I wondered if the incongruity of turning ad orientem for the litany but not for the Liturgy of the Eucharist was noted by anyone else present. (Funny how no one complained that the bishop and his assistants "turned their backs" on the people during the litany.) The so-called Benedictine altar arrangement (which is not employed in my cathedral) is a half measure which I find unsatisfactory where the original "high" altar (with its mensa) is intact. It does, however, have the advantage of focusing the attention of both priest and people on the altar of sacrifice, and in so doing helps instill a sensibility more receptive to a literal re-orientating of the liturgy — and not only during litanies. As Fr. Z. would say, "brick by brick."

Episcopal Consecration in Tarazona, Spain

This Saturday, 19th of March, Feast of St. Joseph, the new bishop of the Spanish diocese of Tarazona, Msgr. Eusebio Hernández Sola, OAR, was consecrated in the church of the former Cistercian abbey of Veruela. Principal consecrator was Msgr. Manuel Monteiro de Castro, Secretary of the Congregation for Bishops and former Nuncio of His Holiness in Spain; co-consecrators were Msgr. Renzo Fratini, current Nuncio of His Holiness in Spain, and His Eminence Francisco Cardenal Álvarez, Archbishop emeritus de Toledo.

As you can see, the "Benedictine" altar arrangement was used. Both consecrand and consecrator made use of the pontifical dalmatic, which is actually called for by the liturgical books of the Ordinary Form but regrettably not always observed. Also, note the dalmatics of the deacons in the traditional Spanish cut with their collarines.






Source: Diocese of Tarazona.

Benedictine Altar Arrangements: Cathedrals of Sioux City and Aracaju

Two examples of the spreading use of the "Benedictine" altar arrangement (which might also be called the "Sirian" arrangement) from different parts of the Americas have come the way of the NLM.

This is the altar of the Cathedral of Sioux City, Iowa:




(Source: Holy Things for Holy People)

And this is the arrangement at the Cathedral of Aracaju, capital of the State of Sergipe, Brazil, at this Ash Wednesday's Mass, celebrated by the Auxiliary of the Diocese, Msgr. Soares da Costa:






(Source: Salvem a Liturgia)

Benedictine Altar Arrangement in Colombia

It has been a while since we featured the Benedictine Altar Arrangement. An excellent example now comes to us from the Blessed Sacrament Chapel of the Cathedral of Bogotá, the capital of Colombia.




(Source: Una Voce Málaga)

The Benedictine Altar Arrangement Reaches Antarctica

An alert reader pointed out to me a photo of a mass said at McMurdo Station in Antarctica by a New Zealand priest, Fr. John Jolliffe. Clergy from that dominion have a long history of serving researchers stationed at McMurdo, ever since a priest from the Christchurch diocese celebrated mass there on December 25, 1957. Of interest, particularly, to our readers is the discrete but very evident presence of a modified traditional Roman altar arrangement of a cross between two candlesticks, of the sort increasingly called the "Benedictine" arrangement because of its promotion in The Spirit of the Liturgy. It is intriguing to think this arrangement, whether deliberately or by coincidence, has reached the final continent. (Or perhaps it never left, I don't know for sure.)

The rest of the article will be of general interest to our readers, given its rare glimpse into a chaplaincy existing on the edge of the world. It is striking to think that even out there you will find a chapel complete with stained-glass and images of Our Lord and Lady.

Parish Visitation in Santiago de Compostela

His Grace the Archbishop of Santiago de Compostela, Spain, Msgr. Julián Barrio Barrio, last 19 March made a canonical visitation to the parish of St. Christopher in Briallos, entrusted to priests of the Fraternity of Christ the Priest and St. Mary Queen. The Archbishop celebrated Pontifical Mass in the Ordinary Form, wearing the pontifical dalmatic and a chasuble in the traditional Spanish cut. The altar was arranged in what we have come to call the "Benedictine Arrangement", including the seventh candle for the celebrating ordinary. and covered with a nice Roman frontal. While this may not seem much to some, keep in mind that much of the restoration of the sacred which the Holy Father is inspiring has not yet been taken up in many places and especially by many bishops, so it is always welcome and a reason to give thanks when we see another place where this is happening.

Here are some images, unfortunately a bit shaky, but giving a good impression nevertheless:

Mauro Gagliardi on the Centrality of the Crucified Christ in the Liturgical Celebration

Fr Mauro Gagliardi, lecturer at the Pontifical Athenaeum "Regina Apostolorum", who was appointed Consultor to the Office of Liturgical Celebrations of the Supreme Pontiff last September (see an excerpt of a Zenit interview with him from January here), has an important piece in today's edition of the Osservatore Romano which - while we do not have to agree with every point made in it, cf. my end note - furthers, sustains and explains an important point of Pope Benedict's liturgical theology, and also practice in what we have come to call the "Benedictine Altar Arrangement". Here it is in an NLM translation:

The centrality of the crucified Christ in the liturgical celebration

"They shall look on Him whom they have pierced."

By Mauro Gagliardi
Consultor to the Office of Liturgical Celebrations of the Supreme Pontiff

In this season of Lent, one cannot but think of the great mystery of the sacred Triduum at the end of these forty days will make us meditate and live again in the today of the liturgy, the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus. An aid on this way of conversion comes from meditation on the centrality of the Cross in the cult and, consequently, in the life of the Christian. The biblical readings of the Mass of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (September 14) present, among others, the theme of looking upon. The Israelites must look upon the bronze serpent lifted on the pole, to be healed from the poison of the snakes (cf. Numbers 21, 4b-9). Jesus in the Gospel of this liturgical celebration, says that he must be lifted up from the earth as the mosaic serpent, so that who believes in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting (cf. John 3, 13-17). The Israelites looked upon the serpent of bronze, but had to make an act of faith in the God who heals. For the disciples of Jesus, however, there is perfect convergence between "looking at" and believing: in order to obtain salvation, one must believe in Him upon Whom one looks: the crucified Risen One, and live in a manner consistent with this fundamental view.

This is the fundamental insight of the traditional liturgcial usage, according to which the sacred minister and the faithful are together turned towards the Crucified. At the time when the practice of celebrating towards the people came into use, the problem arose of the position of the priest at the altar, because now he had his back to the tabernacle and the crucifix. Initially, in several places was restored the box-shaped tabernacle placed above the altar separated from the wall: that way the tabernacle came to be between the priest and the faithful, in such a way that, although the one was still facing the others, both sacred minister and faithful could all look towards the Lord during the Liturgy of the Eucharist. [NLM note: I don't think I have ever consciously seen such an arrangement and would be most curious to see an image, should any of our readers know of one.] This provisional solution was, however, soon superseded, mainly based on the conviction that this arrangement of the tabernacle generated a conflict of presneces: one could not keep the Blessed Sacrament on the altar of celebration, because this would put in contradicttion the different forms of presence of Christ in the liturgy. In the end, this was resolved by the displacement of the tabernacle to a side chapel. There was still the crucifix, to which the celebrant continued to turn his back, since as a rule it still remained at the center. This was resolved even more easily, by providing that it could now also be placed to the side of the altar. In this way, to be sure, the minister did not turn his back to it anymore, but the image of the crucified Lord lost its centrality and, in any case, the problem was not solved consisting in the fact that the priest was still not able to "look toward the Crucified" during the liturgy.

The liturgical norms, established for the current Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite, allow to place crucifix and tabernacle in abgesondert positions, however this does prevent a continued discussion about the greater appropriateness of them being placed in the center, as it must be with the altar. [NLM note: a point not always observed in some proposals for modern churches.] This is especially true for the image of the Crucified. The Instruction "Eucharisticum mysterium" [NLM note: issued by the Sacred Congregation of Rites in 1967, cf. here], in fact, states that "because of the sign" (ratione signi, no. 55), it is better that on the altar on which Mass is celebrated is not placed the tabernacle, because the real presence of the Lord is the fruit of the consecration and should be seen as such. This does not exclude that the tabernacle can as a rule remain at the centre of the liturgical edifice, especially where there is the presence of an older altar, which is now behind the new altar (see no. 54, which among other things the licitness of the placement of the tabernacle on the altar facing the people). Although this is a complex question and would require a more profound reflection, one can probably ackowledge that the moving of the tabernacle from the altar of celebration versus populum (i.e., the new altar) has some arguments more in its favor, since it is based not only on the conflict of presences, but also on the principle of the truth of the liturgical signs. [NLM note: This does indeed require further reflections, not least in the light of the pronouncements of the Servant of God Pius XII who only ten years prior to this instrcution rejected the separation of altar and tabernacle in his famous allocution to the Assisi liturgical congress.] But one cannot say the same about the crucifix. If the centrality of the crucifix is eliminated, the common understanding of the meaning of the liturgy runs the risk of being distorted as a result.

It is obvious that the "looking to" cannot be reduced to a mere outward gesture, made with the simple direction of the eyes. In contrast, it is mainly an attitude of the heart, which can and must be maintained whatever orientation is assumed by the body of the one praying and whatever the direction of the eyes during prayer. Still, in the Roman Canon, even in the missal of Paul VI, there is the rubric that requires the priest to raise his eyes to heaven just before pronouncing the words of consecration over the bread. The orientation of the spirit is more important, but the bodily expression accompanies and sustains the movement within. If it is true, then, that looking toward the Crucified is an act of the spirit, an act of faith and adoration, it remains true, nevertheless, that to look to the image of the Crucified during the liturgy helps and sustains very much the movement of the heart. We need sacred signs and gestures, which, while not a substitute for it, support the movement of the heart which yearns for sanctification: this, too, means acting liturgically ratione signi. Sacredness of the gesture and sanctification of the one praying are not elements opposed to each other, but aspects of one single reality.

If, therefore, the use of celebration versus populum has some positive aspects, one must nevertheless also recognise its limitations: in particular the risk of creating a closed circle between the minister and the faithful, who relegates to the second tier just the One to whom everyone must look with faith during the liturgical cult. It is possible to counter risks by returning to the liturgical prayer its orientation, in particular concerning the Eucharistic liturgy. While the liturgy of the word has its most appropriate form if the priest is facing the people, it seems theologically and pastorally most appropriate to apply the option - recognised by the missal of Paul VI in its various editions - to continue to celebrate the Eucharist toward the Crucified. This can be realised in practice in various ways, including placing the image of the Crucified at the center of the altar of the celebration versus populum, so that everyone, priest and faithful, can look to the Lord during the celebration of His holy sacrifice. In the preface to the first volume of his Gesammelte Schriften [opera omnia], Benedict XVI has said that he is happy that a proposal is gaining more and more ground which he had made in his Introduction to the Spirit of the Liturgy. This, as the Pope has written, consisted in suggesting "not to proceed with new transformations, but simply to put the cross in the center of the altar, towards which the priest and faithful can look together, to be guided in this way to the Lord, to whom we all pray together."

(© L'Osservatore Romano - 9/10 March 2009)

Now, to add a caveat, it might seem like in the last paragraph Fr Gagliardi were suggesting that we should not celebrate Mass ad orientem in the traditional sense, nor even make minor, non-structural re-arrangements. I do not think this is actually his point; instead, he is rather focusing on the "Benedictine altar arrangement" as a primary means by which to begin re-orienting our approach to the liturgy because it is the most easily practicable way of achieving it and the least likely to cause a repetition of the upheaval of the structural changes introduced into most sanctuaries following the reforms of the 1960s. This, then, does not mean that ad orientem in its traditional expression is outside the pale -- indeed, it is envisioned and allowed for by the Missal and by liturgical law. Since Fr Gagliardi makes express reference to the preface of the Pope's Opera omnia, it would be worthwhile to consider again the points Shawn made on the occasion of the publication of said preface about Pope Benedict's actual thought and proposals with regard to the re-orientation of the liturgy (see second half of that post).

The "Benedictine" Altar Arrangement and Cardinal Siri

You will often find supporters of the New Liturgical Movement have a special veneration for the late Archbishop of Genoa, Giuseppe Cardinal Siri, and belonging to the "school of Siri", like the papal MC Msgr Guido Marini, is widely seen as a guarantee of liturgical sense. An example of why this is so is the decree on the "Cult of the Eucharist and the Altars" which Cardinal Siri issued in 1974, in a time when in many places the "hermeneutic of rupture" held sway. The Italian blog Cordialiter offers us some excerpts of this decree, which deal with the altar arrangement and effectively recommend what we have come to call the "Benedictine" altar arrangement. They also prescribe Communion kneeling (keep in mind that Communion in the hand was not allowed then, and was therefore not addressed in this decree), another traditional practice promoted by the Restoration of the Sacred initiated by Pope Benedict. Here is an NLM translation of these excerpts of the decree:

Versus populum altars shall always have, also at times when no liturgical functions take place, candlesticks (not less than two or four, better yet six) [...] It is in fact the candlesticks which distinguish the Catholic altar from the non-Catholic altar and that is of utmost importance. [...]

It is recommended, even if the law permits greater freedom, to maintain the use of the Crucifix upon the altar in the middle, in such a manner that the celebrant and the people have always a visual reminder that upon that altar the renewal of the Sacrifice of the Cross itself is celebrated. [...]

Between the two forms allowed by general law to approach Holy Communion, the one which is more accordant with the mentality of our population is that of kneeling down. It is prescribed therefore to distribute Holy Communion to the faithful kneeling. Communion standing is not admitted in the Archdiocese. In case faithful present themselves who are accustomed to another ceremonial, they are to be inivited politely but firmly to conform to the diocesan regulations.

"Benedictine" Altar Arrangement in Chile

Last Sunday, the Bishop of San Bernardo (Chile), Msgr. Juan Ignacio González Errázuriz, ordained five priests for his diocese (thanks to a Chilean reader for this tip). The Pontifical Mass featured an excellent example of the "Benedictine" altar arrangement (the meaning and importance of which was recently again explained by Shawn), as well as other exemplary elements of liturgical tradition. It should be mentioned that Msgr. González is a member of Opus Dei, which is famous for its impeccable liturgy and its hermeneutic of continuity avant la lettre - Sancte Josephe Maria, ora pro nobis.

The altar with large Cross and seven candles (click on pictures to enlarge them):


The Bishop received with a Crucifix and holy water:


Everyone wearing cassocks and vesting amices:


Six torchbearers:


The Bishop with a very nice mitre and crosier, and wearing the pontifical dalmatic:




Instituted lectors reading the lessons:




The newly ordained vested in quite decent chasubles:



Lastly, for those interested in such things, while reading a bit about the Bishop on the diocesan website, I found that he has also a very well-done episcopal coat-of-arms; the crosses and roses, as well as the motto, alluding to St. Josemaría: