The Church of the New Liturgy and the New Ecclesiology (Part 2)

This it the second part of an article which our founding editor, Mr Shawn Tribe, has graciously shared with us from his site Liturgical Arts Journal, his translation of an article originally written in French by Abbé Grégoire Celier. It forms a very illuminating collection of citations from protagonists and proponents of the post-Conciliar reform, some well-known, some less well-known, which demonstrate why they believed that the reform required old church buildings to be modified, and new ones to be built differently. The first part was published last week. The first two photographs in this part were selected by Mr Tribe, the rest by myself. – NLM editor.

The Status Quo Ante Not Feasible

As the celebration according to the new liturgical norms depended on an architectural environment suited to it, it was not possible to leave things as they were. Indeed, Father [Joseph] Gélineau notes “the all too obvious difficulty encountered in trying to inscribe post-Vatican II liturgy in spaces and volumes designed for a very different type of liturgy” (Joseph Gélineau, Demain la liturgie, Cerf, 1976, p. 29).

But these liturgists would not give up: “It should also be emphasized that priests are invited to continue fitting their churches according to the requirements of the [new] liturgy. In particular, they are advised to place the Blessed Sacrament in a chapel separate from the main vessel of the church, and to give a new place to treasures of sacred art if they need to be removed from their present location.” (“L’instruction sur le culte eucharistique montre que la mise en œuvre de la réforme est fermement poursuivie”, Informations catholiques internationales 290, June 15 1967, p. 8).

It was therefore necessary to consider modifying the layout of churches, wherever necessary and possible, to adapt them to the new liturgy. It should be noted that, from the outset, some layouts were deemed more favourable than others. “A semicircular church, where everyone can see each other and feel connected, certainly allows for better implementation of the post-conciliar reform than an elongated nave built according to other aesthetic and religious canons” (Jean-Claude Crivelli, Des assemblées qui célèbrent : une pratique des signes du salut, Commission suisse de liturgie, 1980, p. 11). 

The Necessary Changes

But since this [semi-circular arrangement] was often not the case, they needed to think about “transforming the interior layout of churches throughout the world, with a view to renewing the celebration of the Eucharist” (Pierre Jounel, “Le missel de Paul VI”, La Maison Dieu 103, 3rd quarter 1970, p. 32). The altar had to face the people, an ambo had to be set up, the tabernacle had to be relocated, and the seating had to be changed. “This spirit pushes us even further: the choice of pews rather than chairs (to avoid the turning movements and noise they entail), the elimination of kneelers (the faithful remaining standing or seated during the liturgical action)” (Thierry Maertens and Robert Gantoy, La nouvelle célébration liturgique et ses implications, Publications de Saint-André-Biblica, 1965, p. 21).

In short, the general layout of the domus ecclesiae needed to be reconsidered. “The severe prescription with regard to minor altars [i.e., their removal] applies a fortiori to the many devotional objects that still so often dot the walls and columns of our churches: the Stations of the Cross, statues, indiscreet confessionals, etc. If they have a place in the interior of churches, they must be removed. If they have their place in chapels separated from the main space of the church, they disperse the assembly when the latter, in the Eucharist, is called upon to give a sign of unity” (Thierry Maertens and Robert Gantoy, La nouvelle célébration liturgique et ses implications, Publications de Saint-André-Biblica, 1965, p. 21).

“Churches, in fact, even when listed, are only secondarily museums. First and foremost, they fulfill a specific religious function. So it’s only natural that their layout and furnishings should meet the needs of the liturgy, and particularly the liturgy of the moment. However, the latter implies new ways of gathering; it requires truly transitory furniture; it leads to the abandonment of the use of certain liturgical objects; by grouping parishes together, it leaves churches unused. All this has important practical consequences, and it has to be recognized that old churches do not always lend themselves to the desired adaptations” (Philippe Boitel, ‘Une église peut-elle être un musée?’, Informations catholiques internationales 402, February 15 1972, p. 4).

“The reform requires new creations: the layout of churches, with the altar turned towards the faithful, the place where the Word of God is celebrated, the celebrant’s seat, the Blessed Sacrament chapel, a new conception of the confessional“ (“Interview with Cardinal Knox”, La Documentation catholique 1674, April 20, 1975, p. 368).

(photograph from Wikimedia Commons by Martin Geisler)

Modifications of Churches To Express a New Ecclesiology

“In modifying the rite, will the reform also involve a new conception of the structure of our churches? Yes, and in different ways. Firstly, by insisting on the communal meaning of the Mass as an assembly of the people of God, the reform requires that everyone be able to follow the rite taking place at the altar. On the one hand, therefore, it aims to eliminate all screens (columns, pillars, etc.) that prevent a clear view of the altar, something made possible today by the evolution of architectural techniques. On the other hand, it puts the altar back to the centre, not geometrically, but ideally, and prefers it to be decisively and rightly turned towards the people. In addition, by emphasizing the role of the congregation, the reform makes it necessary to find suitable locations for the celebrant, his ministers, readers, ambo, etc. For the same reason, it reduces the space required for the altar. For the same reason, it reduces the number of minor altars, which are detrimental to the unity of the congregation, and simplifies the ornaments that used to overwhelm the altar” (Cardinal Giacomo Lercaro, ‘Nouvelle étape de la réforme liturgique : le pourquoi du comment’, Informations catholiques internationales 235, March 1, 1965, p. 26).

This need for architectural redesign should come as no surprise, for if the external form influences the content, the content must in turn react to the external form. “The post-conciliar Church is undergoing profound change, and it is only natural that the church-building should suffer the effects” (Philippe Boitel, ‘Quelles églises pour demain?’, Informations catholiques internationales 388, July 15 1971, p. 22). Indeed, “the liturgical reform imposes on many a new layout for places of worship” (“Dimanche et mission pastorale dans un monde paganisé”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 57, August 1965, p. 10).

“That [the renewal of the liturgy] should have an impact on places of worship, and that these should find themselves partially unsuited as a result of the evolution undergone within the liturgy, no one should be surprised. Insofar as sacred actions have been modified, insofar as the emphasis has been placed on a more total participation of the faithful, buildings built in other times and with a different outlook will also have to be adapted to suit their new purpose” (Guy Oury, ‘L’aménagement des églises - Un aspect du renouveau liturgique’, L’Ami du clergé 6, February 10 1966, p. 89).

Recent embellishments to the church of the Holy Name, the principal Jesuit church of Rome.

This whole new ecclesiological vision naturally expresses itself in this new structuring of the sacred space. “It is clear that liturgical reform cannot be limited to a few changes in the content of the texts read by ministers, or in the gestures of the celebrants (...) It transforms the relationship between the celebrant and the faithful. It distributes the respective functions of the celebrant, the ministers, the schola and the people in a way that is new to us, yet profoundly traditional. It follows that it calls for an arrangement of the places of celebration that is quite different from what it has been until now” (Commission épiscopale de liturgie, ‘Le renouveau liturgique et la disposition des églises’, Notes de pastorale liturgique 58, October 1965, p. 41, or La liturgie, Documents conciliaires V, Centurion, 1966, p. 201).

The Resulting New Arrangements

“[The] construction and layout of churches today can be carried out in the light of a much more complete and elaborate conception of liturgical space” (Frédéric Debuyst, “Quelques réflexions au sujet de la construction d’espaces liturgiques”, Communautés et Liturgies 4, September 1981, p. 285).

Father Roguet, a shrewd judge, had discerned early on the inevitable result of this particular manifestation of the renewal. “Certain reforms, which had seemed to concern only arrangements of texts and rites, will inevitably modify certain accessories of our churches and even some of their architectural structures” (A.M. Roguet, ‘Le signe du vin’, Notes de pastorale liturgique 66, February 1967, p. 43). This is what everyone would come to understand a little later. “The liturgical reform aims with all its might at the full and active participation of all the people. For this to be possible, an appropriate architecture is needed. (...) Liturgical renewal and the way in which the Church situates itself in the world call for a new type of architecture” (F. Agnus, ‘Architecture et renouveau liturgique’, Notes de pastorale liturgique 76, October 1968, p. 46).

New Church Constructions: Transitory and Provisionary

“The monumental and definitive character of what we build does not lend itself well to the present mobility, noticeable in the Church itself: the problems, often insoluble, posed by the adaptation of old churches to current needs, if only to the new forms of liturgical celebration, are likely to arise, in five or ten years' time, for the churches we have just built (...) In the present conditions, it would seem normal to conceive this meeting place, in the image of the community’s activities, as a multifunctional place, usable for purposes other than liturgical ceremonies alone. A domus ecclesiae, for example, could be set on one or two floors of a large building, and would include, in addition to a few small rooms (one of which could be converted into an oratory for private prayer and visits to the Blessed Sacrament) and the offices of the permanent staff, a large room that could be fitted out for various uses (conferences, meetings, parties, receptions, liturgy, etc.) using truly mobile furniture” (Pierre Antoine, ‘L’église est-elle un lieu sacré?’, Études, March 1967, pp. 442-444).

For “it is clear that today we must abandon the more or less pagan and triumphalist concept of the temple, where elements of monumentality and sacred space predominate, in favour of the Christian concept of the assembly, where values of humility, interiority and personalizing relationships predominate. Churches would then once again become house-churches rather than sanctuaries of the Most High” (Dieudonné Dufrasne, ‘Contribution à une spiritualité du samedi saint’, Paroisse et Liturgie 2, March-April 1972, p. 115).

“We must sound a warning. Today’s liturgy is in a melting pot; we cannot say what the forms of worship will be in the future. For this reason, we cannot plan churches solely on the basis of today's conception of liturgy, without running the risk of seeing them outdated by the time they are completed. As the liturgical movement advances, new ideas about worship are born (...). In the final analysis, religious buildings must be modern buildings for modern man” (J. G. Davies, ‘La tendance de l’architecture moderne et l’appréciation des édifices religieux’, in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, p. 94, 95 and 99). “This assumes that a religious building is, by vocation, unfinished: not so much perfectible as evolving, available, at least to a certain extent. (...) Should we not be prepared for unforeseeable changes and redesigns within the probable lifespan of our buildings?” (Denis Aubert, ‘De l’église à tout faire à la maison d’église - Expériences à Taizé’ in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, p. 110 and 112).

Constant change in the cathedral of Berlin, Germany: the original interior, photographed in 1886.

The interior as remodeled after World War 2.

A proposed further wreckovation.

The Church Called to Constant Change

Indeed, “if the Constitution [on the liturgy] is observed in letter and spirit, the liturgy will no longer risk becoming fixed and immobilized. Like a tree that has strong roots and whose sap is nourishing, it will bear on branches that live and spread, new flowers and new fruits” (Msgr. H. Jenny, ‘Introduction’ in La liturgie, Centurion, 1966, p. 41).

Cardinal Lercaro, then president of the Consilium was also moving in this same direction in his message to the artists’ symposium held in Cologne on February 28, 1968. “Without a doubt,” he said, “one thing is quite clear: the architectural structures of churches must change as rapidly as people’s living conditions and homes are changing today. Even when building a place of worship, we need to bear in mind the extremely transitory nature of these material structures, whose entire function is one of service to humankind. In this way, we can prevent future generations from being conditioned by churches that we consider avant-garde today, but which they risk seeing as nothing more than outdated edifices. Today, for our part, we experience this conditioning: we feel the difficulty with which the marvellous churches of the past adapt to our religious sensibility, and the force of inertia with which they oppose the indispensable reforms of liturgical action (...). ) So let us not pretend to build churches for centuries to come, but be content to make modest, functional churches that suit our needs and before which our sons feel free to rethink new ones, abandon them or modify them as their time and religious sensibility suggest”  (Giacomo Lercaro, ‘Message to the artists’ symposium held in Cologne on February 28, 1968, La Maison Dieu 97, 1st trim. 1969, pp. 16-17, or in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, pp. 25-26).

This reflection by its president corresponded perfectly with the aims of the Consilium and its secretary, Msgr. [Annibale] Bugnini, as evidenced by the two texts of its official review, on which we shall conclude. “The work of liturgical reform is not finished and, in the spirit of the Council, must never end. The liturgy, like the Church in its human aspect, is inevitably subject to continual reform, born of ecclesial life, so that the Church is truly adapted to the present time, to today’s culture and to the historical moment” (Anschaire J. Chupungco, “Costituzione conciliare sulla sacra liturgia. 15th anniversario”, Notitiæ 149, December 1978, p. 580): ‘Liturgical reform will continue without limit of time, space, initiative and person, modality and rite, so that the liturgy may remain alive for people of all times and generations’ (“Rinnovamento nell’ordine”, Notitiæ 61, February 1971, p. 52). ?

The Church of the New Liturgy and the New Ecclesiology (Part 1)

We are very grateful to our founding editor, Mr Shawn Tribe, for sharing with us this article from his site Liturgical Arts Journal, his translation of an article originally written in French by Abbé Grégoire Celier. It forms a very illuminating collection of citations from protagonists and proponents of the post-Conciliar reform, some well-known, some less well-known, which demonstrate why they believed that the reform required old church buildings to be modified, and new ones to be built differently. Since it is fairly lengthy, it will be presented here on NLM in two parts. The paragraphs in italics after this one are Mr Tribe’s own prefatory material. – NLM editor.

This article was originally published in the March 2024 issue of “Lettre à nos frères prêtres” under the title “L’Église de la Nouvelle Liturgie.” The article is republished in English translation here with the kind permission of the author, Abbé Grégoire Celier.

By way of preface, the purpose of Abbé Celier’s article is to investigate the operative principles of many liturgists in the immediate wake that came after the Second Vatican Council, specifically as it related to its impact on the liturgical ordering and architecture of our churches.

Since the Second Vatican Council, many have debated the Council’s actual intentions. Some have understood the Second Vatican Council to be a kind of line, a Rubicon that was crossed, seeing it as a purposeful rupture from the Catholic past and the advent of a new and different church. This is the particular perspective you will encounter here being espoused by these liturgists -- and they celebrate and embrace this idea. In a certain sense their notions will be already quite familiar, in other instances, however, you might find the extent of some of their ideas downright shocking. It must also be noted that these liturgists maintain certain interpretations (for example the idea that the Council demanded ‘versus populum’) that have long since been challenged and proven to be, at very least, highly questionable. However, what is most important here is less the question of the accuracy of their ideas than the mere fact of them.

Whether their ideas about the official intentions for the liturgical reform (and its corresponding, downstream impact on Catholic architecture) were misguided, even willful misinterpretations, or whether they were actually ‘on point’, is an important discussion to have of course, but in order to fruitfully have that conversation, we first need to understand that these interpretations did in fact exist -- and were frequently acted upon. In our own day, much has recently been made of statements made by Arthur Cardinal Roche, current Prefect of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, who came out in opposition to the continued existence of the traditional Roman rite of liturgy, celebrated for so much of the Roman rite’s history, on the premise that it represented a fundamentally different ecclesiology and, as such, there was no room for it at the inn; it is something needing to be stamped out as incompatible with the new ecclesiology. Many rightly took issue with this idea, but what you will find here in this survey is that this is precisely what is espoused by these post-conciliar liturgists. It does, in fact, represent a particular post-conciliar school of thought -- one that Cardinal Roche and some others clearly adhere to and continue to attempt to impose.

Right or wrong, these were (and are) principles held to by some in positions of power within the Church in the decades following the Second Vatican Council. It is the ‘schema’ that defines their own particular approach toward the Church, her liturgy, the liturgical reforms, and yes, even the art, architecture and ordering within our churches.

What this should also reveal is that the popular, dismissive charge of “aestheticism” that is so often bandied about when matters of liturgy and architecture are raised is misguided and should be dropped. Form and content are indeed related. Externals do indeed matter. The medium is, at least in part, the message.

Many will already be aware of this relationship of course, but we can thank Abbé Celier for performing the invaluable service of collecting together these various sources for our consideration It is certainly a topic that would benefit from further, in depth study.

[NOTE: The images accompanying this article were not a part of the original article, nor were they selected by the author. These have been selected by LAJ purely for illustrative purposes.]

-- LAJ

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THE CHURCH OF THE NEW LITURGY

by Abbé Grégoire Celier

Liturgical reform was one of the most important elements of the developments following the Second Vatican Council, if not the most significant. A quote from Paul VI, on January 13, 1965, among many other possible ones, opportunely reminds us of this: “The new religious pedagogy which the present liturgical renewal seeks to establish is grafted in, and almost taking the role of a central engine, in the great movement, inscribed in the constitutional principles of the Church of God, and made easier and more urgent by the progress of human culture [...]”

It is therefore a good idea, then, to look back at this liturgical reform, to gain a better understanding of its foundations, implications and results. We propose to do so here through the lens of the church building. The question of how the liturgy resulting from the Council is incorporated into churches built before the Council is particularly timely for assessing the changes brought about by the reform.

To this end, we have drawn on the reflections and remarks of the best liturgical specialists writing in the wake of Vatican II. They will enable us to identify the problems that arose as the new liturgical forms began to be celebrated, and to grasp in turn what the post-conciliar liturgical reform intends to put before our minds. As these texts were published during the two decades (1965-1985) when the liturgical reform was being implemented, they are written in the present or future tense rather than the past.

The Relationship of Form and Content

These authors begin by pointing out that a church, or any other building for that matter, reflects through its architecture the vision of those who built it. Built for a certain liturgy, a certain ceremonial, a certain theology, it necessarily expresses these values. Through its layout, it creates a particular climate, favourable to the execution of the form of religious expression that presided over its conception. Consequently, “it would be nonsense to take an interest in liturgy without worrying about the layout of the places where it takes place. For there is a profound affinity between the space designed according to art, and the liturgy that unfolds there” (E. Vauthier, ‘L’aménagement des églises’, Esprit et Vie - L’Ami du clergé 27, July 5, 1984, p. 393).

By its very nature, a building is a stable object that stands the test of time. “A building does not change like a rite” (Guy Oury, ‘L’aménagement des églises - Un aspect du renouveau liturgique’, L’Ami du clergé 6, February 10, 1966, p. 89). It thus carries the character of a particular period of the Church’s life into a time when, perhaps, the Church’s life has changed profoundly, which can cause a dissonance between form and content. In the wake of Vatican II, precisely because of the rapid and radical ritual (and theological) evolution, a new liturgy had been deployed in architectural spaces built according to other canons and for other uses. For “most of our places of worship were conceived and built centuries ago, sometimes for needs different from our own” (“Simple dialogue à propos de l’espace liturgique”, Communautés et Liturgies 6, Nov.-Dec. 1978, p. 545). Older buildings therefore proved more or less unsuited to the new norms of Christian celebration.

From this point of view, “a two-fold question arises: how to use the places of worship as they have been left to us, and how to design new ones more adapted to our urban way of life and to the situation of the Church today” (“Simple dialogue à propos de l’espace liturgique”, Communities and Liturgies 6, Nov.-Dec. 1978, p. 546).

The Church Building Furnishes A Certain Sense of God

From the outset, the question was: “How can we ensure that today’s liturgy unfolds as well as possible in a setting designed for the liturgy of other eras?” (“Le congrès d’art sacré d’Avignon”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 137, December 1978, p. 63). For, as Father [Yves] Congar noted of St. Peter’s in Rome (though his remark applies equally to other churches), “a whole ecclesiology is already inscribed in the layout of the place” (Yves Congar, Vatican II. Le concile au jour le jour, première session, Cerf-Plon, 1963, p. 23).

Father [Jean-Yves] Quellec explains very clearly what is at stake: “The external configuration of a building, the distribution and organization of its internal spaces, the style of the objects found within it, already form a more or less clear image of the God we encounter there. (...) The way we occupy the space of our churches, the way we arrange the furniture, the way we furnish the sanctuary, and the way we choose a cross, an icon or an altar, all have the implication that we are referring, whether consciously or unconsciously, to various imageries of the divine. It has frequently been pointed out that the image of Christ in the Eucharist is quite different depending on whether the altar resembles a simple table or a monumental tomb. (...) It should be noted that, in most cases, there was no opportunity to make choices revealing a spirituality: the church was received, almost as is, from those who designed and organized it. It should also be noted that, just as frequently, there is a sort of gap between the religious sensibilities and ideas of contemporaries and those that presided over the construction of a building” (Jean-Yves Quellec, ‘Le Dieu de nos églises’, Communautés et Liturgies 4, September 1981, p. 275 and 278).

For example, “the altarpieces of the 17th century, designed, as the Council of Trent requested, for adoration, represent a certain vision of faith. Today we have a different idea of the Real Presence” (Philippe Boitel, ‘Une église peut-elle être un musée?’, Informations catholiques internationales 402, February 15, 1972, p. 5). “Since the time of the Counter-Reformation, the tabernacle has often been linked to the main altar, with which it appeared as the vital centre of the building. But the current renewal of liturgical celebration, by restoring the proper value of each moment of the celebration, has put the spotlight back on the Lord’s other modes of presence” (“Vêtements, objets, espaces liturgiques”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 105, August 1973, p. 26).

Two Models of Church, Two Different Theologies

“The first vision of the Church, that of the pre-Vatican II period, corresponds, by way of example, to a church architecture in which the sanctuary is disproportionately enormous, well separated from the laity, dominating all of the faithful, an insignificant body (in the truest sense of the word) with an exaggerated head. The theology of Vatican II, on the other hand, corresponds to an architecture in which the sanctuary and nave are integrated seamlessly into a harmonious whole” (Lucien Deiss, Les ministères et les services dans la célébration liturgique, éditions du Levain, 1981, p. 8).

Sacred architecture “must present an image of the Church that is fully consistent with that which the liturgy, for its part, strives to convey” (Roger Béraudy, “Introduction” in Espace sacré et architecture moderne, Cerf, 1971, p. 7). For this reason, “not even the layout of places of worship has not been affected by [the liturgical] renewal” (Charles Wackeinheim, Entre la routine et la magie, la messe, Centurion, 1982, p. 23).

Liturgical Reform Implies Changes to the Church Building

The only conceivable solution was to redefine the arrangement of the objects, and to reorganize the architectural space. However, this conversion was difficult, given the building’s characteristic inertia. “Since Vatican II, preaching and Eucharistic celebrations, for example, do not require quite the same movements as before” (“Le congrès d’art sacré d’Avignon”, Notes de pastorale liturgique 137, December 1978, p. 64).

“Since the liturgical reform has led to changes in the arrangement of [liturgical] space, we must realize that these changes are not without challenges, especially when they occur in buildings designed according to a different logic. For example, today we occupy places in this space where it was never intended that words be spoken. As such we do violence to the place. The violated architecture no longer resonates with the assembly. It can only do so - it can only respond - if we keep ourselves in the right place” (Paul Roland, ‘Libre propos sur l’espace liturgique’, Communautés et Liturgies 4, September 1981, p. 296).

The Changes Bring Challenges

“The problem of converting traditional churches is not a simple one, nor is it easy to solve. The shape of our old churches does not immediately lend itself to the changes desired by the Council” (Jean Huvelle, ‘Réforme liturgique et aménagement des églises’, Revue diocésaine de Tournai, 1965, p. 236). For example, “once the new altar has been installed [facing the people], it will be necessary to consider removing, moving or otherwise disposing of the old altar. Such an operation cannot be carried out without the advice of a competent architect. Church architecture has often been designed with the altar at the back of the sanctuary in mind. Changing the altar not only modifies the furnishings, but also transforms the architectural lines” (Thierry Maertens and Robert Gantoy, La nouvelle célébration liturgique et ses implications, Publications de Saint-André-Biblica, 1965, p. 57).

“Churches don’t lend themselves easily to uses other than those for which they were originally designed: in most of them, the building was designed “length-wise” for assemblies. For some time now, the layout of churches has been changing; they are designed for “width-wise” assemblies, where people can see each other, hear each other and communicate. Sometimes we can arrange an old church in this way: it’s always difficult” (“Bâtir une célébration”, Célébrer 151, April 1981, p. 14).

“It is quite certain that our beautiful, elongated churches, filled with a forest of pillars, are more conducive to solitary prayer than to the gathering of people; the new churches, on the contrary, prevent us from isolating ourselves” (Henri Denis, L’esprit de la réforme liturgique, Société nouvelle des imprimeries de la Loire Républicaine, 1965, p. 27).

“The Rupturist Rubric”: The Attempt to Cut Off the Liturgy from Tradition

At the “Defense of the Immemorial Roman Rite: Traditionis Custodes v. Summorum Pontificum” Facebook group, our founding editor Shawn Tribe posted the following insightful text, which I reproduce here with his permission. (Shawn is the administrator of the group, and Gregory DiPippo and I are both moderators with him.)

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The Rupturist Rubric

A problem that many have identified is that frequently in practice we find in operation what we might term the “rupturist rubric.”

What is the rupturist rubric? The rupturist rubric is an approach to matters liturgical and otherwise which seemingly adopts the principle that any approach to the liturgical rites is generally acceptable or at least tolerable so long as it is not the ‘traditional’ (i.e. “pre-conciliar”) approach.

Some examples of the rupturist rubric in action:

1. You can wear no clericals at all should you like, or any kind of hat you like as a cleric, but if you adopt the cassock or biretta or a Cappello Romano, etc. this is intolerable.

A dangerous restorationist caught in the act of undoing the Council’s good work!

2. Clerics may wear sandals or sneakers or even buckled monkstrap shoes if they like, but if you adopt the traditional buckled clerical shoe that was in force until the later 1960s this is ‘verboten.’

3. Playing with and improvising the liturgical texts and rites is openly tolerated, but should you adopt exclusively the most traditional options within the Pauline rite, this is considered suspicious at best, a “rejection of Vatican II” at worst.

4. Use of Jazz or other contemporary secular forms of music within a liturgical context, while not common is tolerable, even desirable, while use of sacred polyphony of Gregorian chant is considered “elitist art music.”

5. A priest might freely roam the church during the liturgy, might ‘bless’ with a guitar, but the adoption of ad orientem is intolerable.

These are purely examples and while they might vary in specific form and degree, the basic gist of the rupturist rubric is that anything that is different from the tradition is more often than not either tolerated or viewed in a positive light, while those things that adhere to the patrimony and tradition of the Latin rite are considered suspect or even openly criticized and censured.

The rupturist rubric is ultimately an expression of a rejection of Catholic patrimony and identity.

*    *    *    *   *

Together with this text, Shawn posted the following amusing photograph:

This aptly ballooned photo can be linked to two incisive remarks from recent articles. The first, “Further thoughts on ‘inculturation’: Why ignore the liturgy that sustained the evangelization of the entire globe?”, quotes Monika Rheinschmitt:

If there is anything we can learn from considering (a) the diversity already allowed by the Novus Ordo’s own rubrics, (b) the diversity added on top of this by official or unofficial attempts at “inculturation,” and (c) the further diversity created by rampant abuse and bad custom, about which the Vatican pretends to care but never takes concrete action, we are justified in reaching the following conclusion: The unity of the Novus Ordo consists exclusively in not being the traditional liturgy.

As if continuing the train of thought, Michael Charlier, in a piece entitled “The amorphous ‘Roman rite’ and the authentic Roman Rite,” states:

Everything that has been promulgated and will be promulgated after THE COUNCIL is a valid expression of the Roman Rite—everything that was before is not (anymore).... Apparently, the view of Francis and the Sant’ Anselmo liturgical school behind him is that everything under the immediate jurisdiction of the Roman See belongs to the Roman Rite.... This is how one can regard it—if one takes a legal positivist standpoint and, incidentally, wants to follow Francis’s hyperpapalistic fantasies of omnipotence. In terms of liturgical history, this inflation of the term Roman rite rather implies the dissolution of the Roman rite into a series of individual rites, which only show a loose agreement in some basic elements and are connected above all by the fact of approval by the central office....

Let us try to put these three observations together.

According to the pope, the Roman Rite has no objective meaning other than what he himself declares to be the Roman Rite. Because “the Council” has radically changed ecclesiology, and the liturgy must give expression to theology (the inversion of the lex orandi, lex credendi axiom), therefore only the liturgy after the Council can be the Church’s lawful liturgy. Since this liturgy calls for variation and welcomes extensive inculturation, it has no inherent formal unity; its unity consists in being not something definite or something preconciliar (the two of course go together in this way of thinking), but rather in being indefinite and anti-preconciliar. Thence arises the necessity to tolerate (at best) or eliminate (at worst) any remnant of preconciliar practice -- even the most accidental, and even that which is technically still allowed, just as one can find some texts in the Council that do not reflect the spirit of the Council, and must therefore be sidelined or overcome by development (cf. Benedict XVI, Address on December 22, 2005).

In a lengthy article last April, Massimo Faggioli wrote:

But the most disturbing phenomenon [in our day] is the transition from a crisis of ecclesial authority to a crisis of the authority of Vatican II and therefore a collapse of a healthy sense of the tradition: a dynamic and organic idea of the tradition; the letter of the tradition not as a paradigm of understanding, but as an expression of the act of understanding; a shift from cognitive and propositional to a personalist and dialogical understanding of revelation.

The subjectivist and evolutionary language here is unmistakable: if we were to take him at his word, it would mark the end of a religion founded on truths that can be formulated with precision and defined as true always and everywhere. (Consider what the Pontifical Academy for Life is attempting to do now with reversing the Church’s perennial teaching on contraception and in vitro fertilization.) In fact, the parallel between the old view of dogma and the old view of liturgy is quite exact: formal, objective, definite, knowable in se, stable, and a source of transformation of cultures, rather than something informal, subjective, indefinite, solely reliant on external authority, ever-changing, a kind of material substrate that must be shaped by cultures that take it up.

We are dealing here with a major epistemological and ecclesiological crisis, the general outline of which has long been acknowledged in traditionalist and sometimes in conservative circles, but the actual magnitude of which has only begun to be clear to us, thanks to the rupturist actions and documents of Pope Francis. It is all the more urgent to adopt a minimalist account of papal authority together with a robust account of the rights of tradition and the limits of obedience, so that we may reject the nominalist, voluntarist, and Hegelian interpretation of liturgy that is now being put forward.

Unused or Unseen Papal Vesture and Vestments

Editor’s note: While I was preparing Tuesday’s post about the canonization of Pope St Pius X, I went looking for an NLM post to link to explain one of the old Papal vestments, the “falda”, which is mentioned in the video included in that post. It turns out that an article which Shawn Tribe published over 10 years ago about Papal vestments has subsequently lost all of its pictures. (There is a not-fascinating technical reason for this, having to do with the way Blogger mounted pictures back then.) Fortunately, Shawn had them all archived, so I thought it would be a nice idea to fix the article and repost it.

Continuing our ongoing consideration of vestments and vesture in the Latin West, I thought it would be interesting to look at some unused elements of papal vesture.

Items in use presently (i.e. in 2008), even if only rarely (such as the camauro or papal cappello romano), will not be shown here.

The Fanon

A shoulder-cape worn by the pope alone, consisting of two pieces of white silk ornamented with narrow woven stripes of red and gold; the pieces are nearly circular in shape but somewhat unequal in size and the smaller is laid on and fastened to the larger one... The front part of the fanon is ornamented with a smallcross embroidered in gold...

The fanon is like an amice; it is, however, put on not under but above the alb. The pope wears it only when celebrating a solemn pontifical Mass, that is, only when all the pontifical vestments are used. The manner of putting on the fanon recalls the method of assuming the amice... After the deacon has vested the pope with the usual amice, alb, the cingulum and sub-cinctorium, and the pectoral cross, he draws on, by means of the opening, the fanon and then turns the half of the upper piece towards the back over the pope’s head. He now vests the pope with the stole, tunicle, dalmatic, and chasuble, then turns down that part of the fanon which had been placed over the head of the pope, draws the front half of the upper piece above the tunicle, dalmatic, and chasuble, and finally arranges the whole upper piece of the fanon so that it covers the shoulders of the pope like a collar.

The fanon is mentioned in the oldest known Roman Ordinal, consequently its use in the eighth century can be proved. It was then called anabolagium (anagolagium), yet it was not at that period a vestment reserved for the use of the pope. This limitation of its use did not appear until the other ecclesiastics at Rome began to put the vestment on under the alb instead of over it, that is, when it became customary among the clergy to use the fanon as an ordinary amice. This happened, apparently in imitation of the usage outside of Rome, between the tenth and twelfth centuries; however, the exact date cannot be given. But it is certain that as early as the end of the twelfth century the fanon was worn solely by the pope, as is evident from the express statement of Innocent III (1198-1216). The vestment was then called an orale; the name of fanon, from the late Latin fano, derived from pannus, (penos), cloth, woven fabric, was not used until a subsequent age. Even as early as the eighth century the pope wore the fanon only at solemn high Mass...

(The Catholic Encyclopedia)

The Falda
The falda was a long alb-like garment that formed a kind of train typical of certain types of earlier dress for both men and women. It is worn under the alb.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Five Recent Articles about Funerals and Masses for the Dead

Photo courtesy of Liturgical Arts Journal

November, the month of the Holy Souls, always brings with it a number of articles concerning the current state, or plight, of Catholic funerals and Masses for the Dead. As the years pass, we are fortunate to see a double outcome of Summorum Pontificum: first, an always growing presence of the traditional Requiem Mass with its full panoply of symbols and chants (including the great Dies Irae), as can be seen in the photo albums published here; and second, an ever more widespread acknowledgment that something has gone drastically wrong with the way Catholics approach prayer for the dead.

I would like to mention here four recent articles of potential interest to NLM readers, and give a few excerpts.

The first is “The scandal of the modern Catholic funeral,” one of my daily columns at LifeSite.

Once upon a time, a very important person in my life died. I attended the funeral. It was a Novus Ordo canonization ceremony, conducted by a priest and three women in skirt-suits ministering in the sanctuary. Everyone at the funeral was dressed in black—except for the priest, who was wearing white. The disjunct was glaring and tasteless. The contrast between the deep human instinct of mourning, which can be said to be an ineradicable part of the sensus fidelium, and the crackpot liturgical reformers who introduced white as a color for Masses for the dead, was never so obvious to me.
          The day before, however, my family and I had gone to a traditional Requiem Mass, sung by a priest friend. The contrast was not just profound, but shocking. Between that day and the following, we were emotionally suspended between two radically different offerings for the dead: one that took death with deadly seriousness, that cared about the fate of the departed soul, and allowed us to suffer; another that shuffled death to the side with platitudes and empty promises. The contrast between Friday’s black vestments, Dies irae, and whispered suffrages and Saturday’s stole-surmounted white chasuble and amplified sentiments of universal goodwill seemed to epitomize the chasm that separates the faith of the saints from the prematurely ageing modernism of yesterday.
          I found myself thinking: The greatest miracle of our times is that the Catholic Faith has survived the liturgical reform.

A few weeks ago, Dr Joseph Shaw, the Chairman of the Latin Mass Society of England & Wales and a much-appreciated blogger at LMS Chairman, officially joined the bloggers writing for LifeSite. In this capacity he has given us two articles of note:

“Why Catholic funerals prior to Vatican II better expressed death’s gravity”

The chants of the traditional Mass for the Dead, called by the first word of the Mass proper, Requiem, include some of the Church’s most ancient, solemn, and moving. They express the seriousness, the gravity of death, and seek God’s mercy for those who have died. It was shocking to many when the Dies Irae and other chants were removed from the Mass for the Dead in the liturgical reform that followed the Second Vatican Council. Annibale Bugnini explained the reasoning of the reformers as follows (The Reform of the Liturgy p. 773):
          "They got rid of texts that smacked of a negative spirituality inherited from the Middle Ages. Thus they removed such familiar and even beloved texts as the Libera me, Domine, the Dies irae, and others that overemphasized judgment, fear, and despair. These they replaced with texts urging Christian hope and giving more effective expression to faith in the resurrection."
          The idea that the texts at issue “overemphasize” “despair” (how much should despair be emphasized, one wonders?) is a gross mischaracterization. The texts of the ancient Mass for the Dead speak of God’s mercy and the gift of salvation, in the context of human guilt and God’s justice.

And “Why Christians must honor those who have died in war”:

It is an unsurprising sociological fact that people are more willing to sacrifice themselves for their community if they see that such sacrifices in the past have been honored by the community. If we are not prepared to honor them when they fall, we should not expect our young people to put themselves in harm’s way for our protection.

(As a side-note: NLM readers might not expect to find liturgical commentary at LifeSiteNews, which has built its reputation as a pro-life, pro-family, general news source; but this expectation is not quite accurate anymore, now that Dr Shaw and I are writing on liturgical topics there with some regularity.)

Last but not least, Shawn Tribe, founding editor of NLM, continues to promote the best and most beautiful elements of the Catholic liturgical aesthetic at his site Liturgical Arts Journal, as we see in “The Value of Black as a Liturgical Colour” and “Constructing a Catafalque for the Requiem Mass.”

May each passing November, and indeed the passage of each one of Christ’s faithful into eternity, be accompanied by obsequies and orisons worthy of the dignity of Christian baptism, testifying to the reality of the Four Last Things and redolent of the piety, devotion, and earnest prayer of the ages.

“The Imperative of the Imperium” - An Article on First Things by Shawn Tribe

I am sure that many of our readers saw an article recently published on First Things by Fr Jay Scott Newman of the diocese of Charleston, South Carolina, entitled “The End of the Imperial Episcopate”; it attracted a good deal of comment on the original site, and was linked by several of the major catholic aggregators. The jist of it was to argue that in response to the present crisis, (more accurately, the revelation of the depth and breadth of a crisis that has been going on for a very long time), the Church needs to divest itself of the vestiges of what it supposedly inherited from the Roman Empire, “(e)xalted titles and elaborate uniforms ... colored sashes, buttons, piping, and capes...”

His Beatitude Sviatoslav Shevchuk, Major Archbishop of Kiev-Halych, wearing a black mantiya before entering a church for the celebration of the Divine Liturgy. The mantiya is similar to the Western cappa magna, but the use of it is not as restricted, since it may be worn by all members of the monastic clergy.

Yesterday, our founding editor Shawn Tribe published a response to Fr Newman, also on First Things, entitled “The Imperative of the Imperium”, in which he argues, correctly, in my estimation, that “the problems Newman describes in his piece are not caused by titles, dress, or the ‘imperium’—they aren’t even problems limited to bishops. These are personality probles founded in particular individuals and their particular psychological makeup—problems that will emerge whether they are wearing black, purple, red, white, or blue jeans for that matter. If we wish to eliminate these issues in the Church—as we all surely do—we don’t need to start searching for a new tailor, we need to start searching for a better screening process. ... If we want to successfully renew the episcopacy, the priesthood, and religious life, we need to do everything we can to accentuate and reclaim (their) identity and purpose—not enact reforms that minimize it even further. ” Click over to First Things to read the whole article.

Liturgical Arts Journal: A New Endeavor from Shawn Tribe

Our founding editor, Shawn Tribe, has just officially launched a new website, Liturgical Arts Journal.

“It is with great pleasure that I announce to you today the launch of a new site dedicated exclusively to the liturgical and ecclesiastical arts: Liturgical Arts Journal (LAJ). As before with NLM, the approach and focus will be non-polemical, concentrating on the history of liturgical arts, and showcasing the very best contemporary work in the sphere of liturgical-ecclesiastical art and design: work characterized by the Benedictine principle of continuity, and development in continuity. The focus will primarily be on ‘what we are for’, rather than ‘what we are against.’ Where critique is offered, it will be constructive critique. Focus is not limited to one particular liturgical rite or use.

Call for Content Submissions and Guest Articles: If you have stories, photos, news, etc. that you would like to submit for publication consideration now or in the future, please email them to me at stribe@liturgicalartsjournal.com, or send them via Facebook message on the LAJ Facebook page. If you are interested in contributing an article to LAJ, please send an abstract of your proposed submission at the same email or via the Facebook page.

I hope that I can count on your support to help make this new endeavour a success!”

Website: http://www.liturgicalartsjournal.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LiturgicalArtJournal/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LiturgicalArtsJ

The site was officially launched today, but there are already a few backdated posts, including an introductory post on the scope and purpose of the site. We are very happy to congratulate Shawn on the beginning of his new project, and wish him every success! I expect there will be a good amount of collaboration between NLM and LAJ.

Shawn Tribe on: Solemn Pontifical Mass from the Faldstool, St. Mary's Minor Basilica, Minneapolis

Something of a principle I've established for myself in my blogging retirement (which suddenly seems more and more like a semi-retirement) is that it is likely going to take significant events, like the recent Chartres Pilgrimage or Sacra Liturgia Conference in Milan, to drag me temporarily out of my blogging slumber. I think what I am about to show you qualifies, both as an event and also for the sheer beauty of all the liturgical arts and ceremonies you are about to see.

The event in question was a Solemn Pontifical Mass held, in what I understand in the first time in a very long time, this past June 7th in the Basilica of St. Mary in Minneapolis, Minnesota, by His Excellency, Bishop Andrew Cozzens. In point of fact he was there to both celebrate a Pontifical Mass from the Faldstool and to perform confirmations.

Before I proceed with the photos I should note that the musical setting of this Mass was Palestrina's masterwork of renaissance polyphony, the Missae Papae Marcelli -- the polyphonic composition that is said to have preserved the possibility of polyphony as a form of Catholic liturgical music.

One could hardly ask for a better musical setting and, what's more, one could hardly ask for a better architectural setting for a historic Mass such as this than the Basilica of St. Mary -- a neo-classical building that is as stunning on the outside as it is on the inside. Inside, we still have the high altar, splendidly proportioned and covered by a ciborium magnum. Beyond the architectural magnificence of the building, it was edifying to also see a very pleasing set of baroque vestments in the French tradition used for this liturgy.

But enough of the preamble. Here are the photos which come by way of Tracy Dunne Photography.  (See the full photo set here.)

 

 

The Chinese Chasuble of Dom Pierre-Célestin Lou Tseng-Tsiang, OSB

Almost seven years ago, on April 21, 2010, I published an article here, Liturgical Arts Quarterly 1935: “Christian Art in the Far East.” This article presented some fine examples of liturgical inculturation -- something that I often explored here on NLM, particularly as so many things manifest in the name of “inculturation” in our time seem so often misguided and misplaced; it is worthwhile remembering, however, that it hasn’t always been this way, nor must it be.

One of the pieces that was shown in this article was a Gothic Revival chasuble that employed Chinese themed motifs:

This particular chasuble belonged to Dom Pierre-Célestin Lou Tseng-Tsiang, OSB (1871-1949) and is now in the possession of St Andrew’s Abbey in Bruges, Belgium. Dom Lou is shown here wearing it:

Now black and white photos of vestments, in my experience, can do one of two things: they can either make the vestments look better than they really appear in person, or they can do the exact opposite and not show forth just how spectacular they are. (The reason for this is the same in both instances: the lack of colour doesn’t adequately provide a view into all the textures, textile qualities and colour harmonies or disharmonies).

The case of Dom Lou’s chasuble is clearly an instance of the latter, for the modern colour image shows forth the full exquisiteness of this chasuble in its every detail, from the beauty of its colours and materials to the richness of its embroideries and their corresponding textures. Take a look:

As you can see, this is an absolutely exquisite piece of craftsmanship. Putting aside the themes for a moment, the silks, the bead work, the embroideries, the colours, they all combine into a splendid harmony. Added to that are the splendid Chinese motifs that make this a truly stunning and unique piece of liturgical art and, in my estimation at least, an example of one of the very best manifestations of liturgical inculturation.

Photo Credit: Photos of the chasuble by Cyril J. Law with kind permission of the Abbot of St. Andrew's Abbey, Bruges. Cyril also provided us with historical photos of Dom Lou. Thanks to him.

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Send in your news, photos or other feedback to him at stribe@newliturgicalmovement.org

From the Archive: On the Use of Black Vestments

From time to time, it’s nice to look back at some of the articles in our archives (currently over 12,000 items!) For All Souls’ Day, here is a great piece about black vestments posted by our founding editor Shawn Tribe in November of 2005, when NLM was less than four month old. This was a year and half before Summorum Pontificum, and I think it is probably not too optimistic to think that opposition to the use of black vestments has weakened even further, now that more people will have used them in the EF Requiem Mass, where they are mandatory.  

Many out there are likely aware that there has been these past 40 years or so an aversion to black vestments for times such as funerals, or for the Feast of All Souls and so on. (Thankfully this is decreasing with the newer generations of clergy.)

Often black vestments have been excluded in practice (though not necessarily in law) -- enough so that there are entire generations who will have never seen a black vestment worn, let alone know of its existence as a liturgical colour. For example, in the modern rite, red is now worn on Good Friday instead of black, which is still used in the classical rite of course. White will typically be worn for funerals. Sometimes purple will be used.

Now let us get it straight: this is not a liturgical abuse as these are options which the Church has given, or in the case of Good Friday, changes that have been made. There are some, however, for whom this is not simply aesthetic (nor should it be), nor a question of common practice in a diocese, but is actually an ideological opposition aimed at the perceived “negativity” of black. This latter idea is a problem. I wish to address in a roundabout way both the problem with the former way of thinking, but also I want to make a case for why I believe the effective disappearance of black is not desirable, even when we are just exercising another legitimate liturgical option as a norm.

The use of black is representative of some fundamental Christian realities. While Christians are a people of hope (the oft used argument for those wishing to exclude black), we are also a people aware of the reality of sin and judgement. We do not presume to know the state of our loved one’s soul. Too often even some parish priests themselves acquiesce to this idea that our achieving of our heavenly reward is a fait accompli. While we indeed hope and pray that our loved one has attained his or her heavenly reward, it is not a hope that is without reservations or loving concern. As Christians we are hopeful and yet also have a humble realism. We know that we are sinful creatures and we do not always meet the mark, nor necessarily repent of our sins. As such, we both hope and pray.

Black, with its echoes of mourning and reserve, both acknowledges our own emotional response to the loss of a loved one, and is further representative of our need to pray for the repose of our loved one’s soul. It also is a reminder and symbol of our belief in Purgatory wherein the suffering souls require our prayers and especially Masses. After all, Requiem masses are not merely memorials made for the living -- tools for our psychological and emotional comfort -- but are first and foremost powerful prayers and graces for the repose of our dearly beloved. If we approach the afterlife of heaven as “automatic” or as a given, who will take seriously the need to pray for the souls of Purgatory or our departed loved one? Eventually, who will see the need to have a funeral Mass? Black represents our mourning and also that there is work yet to be done -- the work of prayer, the graces of the Mass. The gold or silver which adorns the decoration of a black vestment gives us that silver-lining of Christian hope which we have for the resurrection of our loved one, and eventually ourselves, into Our Father’s House.


From a cultural perspective, this lack represents a divide from the common cultural sentiment expressed at death which has been informed by religious principles for generations -- one cannot help but notice that black is still the colour of mourning among most people at a funeral. If we are truly interested in speaking to people in symbols and language they can understand and relate to, the use of black at a funeral cannot be surpassed in this regard. (I am not suggesting that culture must inform liturgical practice; in this case, I think the Faith has informed the culture and the culture still retains this formation on a deep level.)

There really is nothing to stop a priest from re-introducing black vestments into the sacred liturgy when the rubrics allow for it -- and this I would heartily recommend to parish priests who read this weblog.

That being said, I receive many emails from readers on this weblog asking advice on how to approach such questions in there parishes. Often they are facing situations where there is little interest in the liturgy, or at least, little interest in the goals of the reform of the reform -- which may go in an opposite direction from where their parish is heading.

In such instances, getting black vestments re-instituted may be a non-starter with their parish clergy -- but as I say, there is a surprising openness to them from many of the younger clergy. If you don't have that situation, don’t worry, there may yet be hope. While you may not get black vestments instituted in your parish, there is another option that comes halfway at least, and may be more acceptable in such a situation and would help begin to restore this balance of hope, mourning and prayers for the dead.

Here is my proposal for a pastor that can’t yet (or won’t) re-institute black vestments: a white (or preferably off-white cream colour) vestment, with a large, substantial band of black brocade going up the centre of the vestment -- or also with the traditional Y-orphrey. The key is making the black noticeable.

The History, Development and Symbolism of the Antependium, Altar Frontal, or “Pallium Altaris” (Reprint)

This article by Shawn Tribe was originally published in October of 2008, and republished in 2013. He and I recently noticed that all of the photographs, which were originally linked from an external source, have disappeared, so I thought it might be nice to repair it and reprint it again. It is listed here under my name, but still entirely Shawn’s work.

Occasionally we get requests -- inspired by our series and descriptions upon different elements of liturgical vesture and ornament -- to discuss particular ornaments in greater detail. One such request was a discussion of the altar frontal, otherwise known as the antependium or pallium altaris.

Early Origins

The Catholic Encyclopedia suggests that the origin of the antipendium might be “traced to the curtains or veils of silk, or of other precious material, which hung over the open space [NLM note: or “confessio”] under the altar, to preserve the shrines of the saints usually deposited there” which later developed into the altar frontal we now know.

In his work, The Christian Altar, the Anglican Cyril Pocknee notes that “even in the primitive period not only was the altar covered with a linen cloth or pall for the celebration of the Eucharist; but also the Lord’s Table was vested with silk cloths... Palladius writing about 421 mentions some Roman ladies, who renouncing the world, bequeathed their silks to make coverings for the altar... The Liber Pontificalis testifies that during the eighth and ninth centuries coverings for the altar made of gold thread and decorated with jewels and pearls and embroidered with figures of our Lord, the B.V. Mary and the Apostles were given to the great Roman basilicas by succeeding Popes.”

Pocknee speaks to the development of the form as follows:

While the altar remained cubical in form, the ‘throw-over’ type of pall continued in use... this linen cloth, known as the Palla corporalis, was thrown over the altar, much as an ordinary table-cloth is spread today, by the deacons, and it fell down around all sides of the table. But in the Gothic period, when the altar tended to be lengthened, two things happened: (a) the linen pall became divided into two parts, one part being a long strip which covered the top of the altar and fell down over each end of the mensa, while the other part became the ‘corporal’ which covered the elements; (b) the silk pall becomes the antependium or frontal covering the front elevation of the altar only when it stood close to a wall or screen. But it should be noted that where the longer type of altar was free-standing a ‘frontal’ was provided for both back and front.

Both Cyril Pocknee (The Christian Altar) and J.B. O’Connell (Church Building and Furnishing) comment that the earliest frontals were “often made in purple and gold and ornamented with jewels, or with beautiful embroideries.” (O’Connell). The following image from the Benedictional of St. Ethelwold shows this, as well as what Pocknee describes in terms of the fuller, more “table-cloth” like form of the early altar covering:

O’Connell continues by noting that in the 8th or 9th centuries, some frontals were also made of precious metals such as silver or gold. A classic example of this would be the altar of the Basilica of St. Ambrose in Milan:

It was during the middle ages that we begin to see the vesting of the altar match the colour of the vestments of the day.

Symbolism

Speaking to the symbolism attributed to the frontal, Geoffrey Webb in The Liturgical Altar calls it “a covering of honour for the body of the altar which... represents Christ Himself...” He quotes Bishop J.F. Van der Stappen in his work, Sacra Liturgia as saying: “For the altar is Christ, therefore, on account of its dignity, it is clothed in precious vestments, as the Pontifical says in the ordination of sub-deacons.” Webb continues speaking of the colour that the frontal brings to the altar: “Our Lord, as represented by His consecrated altar, puts on robes of majesty... and when the Robes of Majesty are all removed on Holy Thursday, more is indicated than the removal of His garments. His faithful, His costly garments, His disciples, are all stripped from Him; and His desolation is made all the more evident by this complete annihilation of colour.” The use of colour is “part of the splendour of the liturgy” but “the instinct to provide colour seems less vigorous today than in most other centuries, and one doubts whether its place is sufficiently realized as one instrument of a concerted orchestra, in whose harmony its omission forms a gap.” Finally Webb suggests that “the frontal serves to give to the altar that architectural prominence which its central position in the liturgy requires.”

O’Connell notes similarly:

“...at the ordination of a subdeacon, the bishop in his charge to the candidate says ‘the cloths and corporals of the altar [which represent Christ] are the members of Christ, God’s faithful people, with whom, as with costly garments, the Lord is clad, according to the Psalmist: The Lord reigns as king, robed in majesty.’ The clothed altar with its beauty and changing colours is a symbol of the Mystical Body... it translates this doctrine into the language of colour and form. In addition to its symbolical value, the frontal -- with its sequence of colours and its changing form and decoration -- lends variety and new beauty to the altar, and helps to mark the degrees of festivity in the Church’s liturgy. In presenting an unbroken coloured surface it also draws attention to the altar, as the focal point of the church, giving it architectural prominence.”

A visual comparison of the altar of St. Peter’s Basilica, unvested and vested, might serve to illustrate the visual and liturgical difference a frontal can make.

An NLM Appeal for the Revival of the Altar Frontal
The NLM has often appealed to clergy to consider re-instituting the use of altar frontals in their parishes and apostolates. It is to be hoped that these descriptions of the history and symbolic and liturgical value of the frontal will serve as further inspiration.

Now this said it must be stated that, as with any sacred arts, not all frontals are created equal. In my experience, the finest frontals are characterized by neatness, not hanging too loosely (being either stretched onto a frame or at very least of heavy fabric and generally weighted), thereby drawing attention to the form and substantiality of the altar itself; they cover the entirety of the front of the altar, and they are characterized either by a verticality in ornamentation, or a fullness of ornamentation. (What I mean by this will become more evident shortly.)

Examples of Unsuccessful Frontals

Let us consider a few examples of what I would deem unsuccessful attempts at altar frontals.

There are a few problems here. First, the use of a single colour without other ornamentation or orphreys. But worse is the use of pleating which takes away from the altar itself and approximates not so much paraments for the altar as curtains before it.

Continue Reading this Article. . .