"Et Tenebrae Factae Sunt..."

If you live anywhere near Chicago and have not heretofore attended the Tenebrae service at St. John Cantius Parish, I envy you.

I say that because you have the chance to experience this amazingly beautiful service — surely Holy Mother Church's most sublime non-Mass liturgy — for the first time tonight at 7:30. [Get directions to SJC here.)

The office of Tenebrae:

...contains 14 psalms, 9 readings, and one canticle, the Benedictus (Song of Zechariah). Lighting is gradually reduced throughout the service. Initially 15 candles are lit and are placed on a special stand known as a hearse, which are extinguished one by one after each psalm. The last candle is hidden beneath the altar, ending the service in total darkness. In some places the use of a strepitus (Latin for "great noise") is included as part of the service. The great noise is usually generated by slamming a book closed, banging a hymnal or breviary against the pew, or stomping on the floor, symbolizing the earthquake that followed Christ's death. This custom seems to have originated as a simple signal to depart in silence. Following the great noise a single candle, which had been hidden from view is returned to the top of the hearse. It is felt that the single candle signifies the return of Christ to the world with the Resurrection.

At the conclusion of the SJC Tenebrae service, when the church is in total darkness but before the strepitus, the choir sings Allegri's hauntingly beautiful Miserere — the hearing of which is, for me personally, the high point of Lent.

Parish Websites

Fellow Catholic Dads blogger Rob Kaiser writes:

Let’s face it, most parish websites are pretty awful – and I don’t mean full of awe. A lot of it has to do with throwing up an online billboard or having created a site 5 to 10 years ago and not having updated it. Whatever the reason, a lot of our parish websites are in need of help.

So here are questions for you to help change the situation. Answer as many or few as you are able.

1. What are some parish websites that did it right?
2. How is your parish website? What does it do well? How could it be improved?
3. What is required for a parish website to be considered “good”?
4. What should a parish site definitely avoid?
5. What has a parish site done that really made you say “Wow!” – good or bad?

Please don’t be shy – your answers could help parish website developers as they search the web for answers.

I commented thusly:

When I visit a parish website -- either my own or one I've never visited before -- there is usually one of two reasons (or both, I suppose) why I do so:

1. To find out Mass and confession times
2. To find out about upcoming events

I'd be willing to bet that a not insignificant percentage of people who visit parish websites do so for the same primary reasons.

In my opinion, then, a parish website should display these things on their home page in such a way that they're impossible to miss.

Now, on the other hand, I have numerous pet peeves about certain website features generally, which I think should be avoided. Here's a partial list:

1. Intro pages -- useability studies consistently show people don't like them.

2. Pages/features that don't load properly in Firefox (due to the webmaster only testing them in IE). Friends don't let friends use Internet Explorer.

3. Flash animation -- it's annoying. Plus, for users who have Flash Block (a Firefox add-on), it doesn't show up.

4. Playing music (even if it's good music) immediately upon opening a page -- far more annoying than Flash animation.

5. Dead links due to the webmaster moving a page and failing to include redirect code on the old page -- I'm told this is one of the cardinal sins of web design. This has happened to me twice recently whilst looking for articles on Catholic Exchange, and I find it maddening. (After that I tried the Wayback Machine, but struck out there too.)

Fr. Anthony Brankin on Americanism

"'My country, right or wrong,' is a thing that no patriot would think of saying. It is like saying, 'My mother, drunk or sober.'" —G.K. Chesterton

About two years ago, not long after the indomitable Fr. Anthony Brankin became pastor at our geographical parish (St. Odilo in Berwyn), his homily from the preceding Sunday started appearing in the church bulletin.

I'm very glad of this, because even if we go to our other parish (St. John Cantius), we're still able to read his homilies.

Two things in particular strike me about Fr. Brankin's preaching:

(1) His homilies are always relatively short (which, for various reasons, methinks is a very good thing).

(2) He is never afraid to address controversial topics, and, in so doing, lovingly challenge his parishioners to become more faithful to Holy Mother Church's teaching.

Which leads me to his humdinger of a homily from Sunday, July 5, which appeared in this past week's bulletin. I present it herein for your edification—as well as my own:

As Catholics we often hear of heresies. Basically a heresy is a false teaching. Say for instance a priest were to say that Jesus did not rise from the dead. That would be a heresy.

Suppose a theologian was teaching that we need not believe that there are three Persons in One God — that would be a heresy.

Recently I read where a German Bishop was preaching in his cathedral that Jesus did not die as a sacrifice for our sins. That would be a heresy.

It stands to reason if there is something that the Church proposes for our belief, and says very clearly that to believe this is what it means to be a Catholic, then to say, preach, or believe differently is a heresy. To be in heresy is to be wrong. It doesn’t mean that we are going to lynch heretics or burn them at the stake. But it does mean there is something wrong about heretical believing and thinking—and it needs to be corrected before we go on.

It is important that the Church perform the function of judging certain statements for us so that we can develop our own belief filters. When we hear something through that filter, we can judge whether some statement or belief is heresy or not.

On this Fourth of July weekend I thought we might discuss for a moment a very unique modern heresy that is not very well known, but is pretty common. It is called the heresy of “Americanism”.

Now usually when we use the word “Americanism” we are talking about patriotism—but that is not what this word means this time. Actually it was coined by Pope Leo XIII at the end of the Nineteenth Century and he condemned it as something he saw in many American bishops’ teaching. He intended by “Americanism” to mean an attitude that says that America was founded by God and that because of that we Americans need not follow the rules that all the other nations and peoples must follow.

In other words, “Americanism” is the heresy that teaches that whatever we do—because we are Americans or American Catholics - is therefore right. The rules and moral laws that other people must observe do not apply to us because we are exceptional.

Now this “Americanism” is shown in two ways. First—and this is the specific problem that Pope Leo saw is that American bishops, were saying that because we are Americans in America, not all Church teachings apply to all of us. Because we are in a special country in a special position, whenever Rome decrees something we do not have to observe those Church rules or teachings.

I saw this in the seminary a dozen times. I remember when the American Bishops were trying to get American children to make their First Confessions after First Communion. Nobody else in the world was doing this—but our Bishops were. And the Bishops confused it enough for about ten years that there is a whole generation of people—adults now—who made their First Communion—but never made their First Confession. And every time the Pope from the 70’s on would tell the American Bishops to go back to the traditional practice, they would pretend they didn’t hear it and say—“Oh he is talking about Italy.” It took twenty years to straighten out that mess!

Sometimes “Americanism” refers as well to our response to what the government does. An Americanist would say that whatever America does is right—because by definition America does not do wrong.

Now this stems from America’s religious origins—and the notion that came from the Puritans and Pilgrims that God gave them America as refuge—ultimately—from the Pope in Rome. So America is the new Promised land—the new Israel—the new manifestation of God’s will in earth and certainly not the Catholic Church.

So therefore what ever America does is approved by God. If we invade Mexico, or Cuba or the Philippines—as we did in the 19th Century—or invade Iraq, Afghanistan, or if we drop an atom bomb or invent nerve gas, or develop germs to conduct germ warfare or if we torture prisoners and have a good reason for it, then it’s OK. That’s “Americanism”.

You will notice that there is no heresy called Mexicanism or Peruvianism.

“Americanism” can snag most of us. Rather than examine some governmental policy in the light of Catholic moral teaching—or weigh this or that action in the scale of papal teaching—or church tradition, we simply go along with it all—agreeing that whatever America does must be moral—because it is America.

I used to do this all the time—particularly when the issues came down along the lines of liberal and conservative as defined by the media or party politics.

For example, I would to think that when Church teaching and the Pope came in conflict with what we were about as America, I would say, “Well, as the Pope he is a wonderful and holy man, but he doesn’t know as much about it as our president. So unless he is talking about the Nicene Creed or the 6th Commandment we don’t have to listen to the Pope.”

Well that’s “Americanism” plain and simple. As Catholics, it was easy to fall prey to Americanism because as a nation of immigrants we always wanted to be accepted. We didn’t want the Protestants who were running this country to think we were somehow unpatriotic and disloyal and un-American. God forbid that they should think that Catholics were loyal to foreign power from overseas! Why that would be treason on its face.

Indeed, it was never easy to be a Catholic in America. When they put up the Help Wanted signs on factories and stores that specified, “Irish need not apply” it wasn’t because the Irish had freckles and red hair—it was because they were Catholic. There were riots in the streets. Convents, churches and rectories were burnt down to try to send these Catholics back home.

My brother Pat was pastor of a parish in Oklahoma where as late the 1920’s the people in the town burned down the church and scattered the Catholics as far as they could. And that parish was so afraid of the outside world, that they didn’t do Ash Wednesday for the next 60 years. They didn’t want to mark themselves out as Catholics any more than necessary.

Do you remember when John F. Kennedy was running for President and he spoke before the Baptist ministers and promised them he would never let his Catholic beliefs interfere with his being President? We bent over backwards—and still do— to prove to the reigning culture that we were true blue Americans. And we went along with the idea that somehow America was connected more closely with God than any other country — and that what we do — no matter what— has God’s blessing. That is not only heresy — it is also idolatry.

As Catholics we must understand that all countries and all peoples are equal in the sight of God and are equally loved by God and equally judged by God. Pope Leo said that!

Our standard of reference for all of life even as Americans is the Catholic Faith; and we must listen to what our traditions and our popes teach. We must never ever think that just because some politician has decided to get our country involved in something immoral—like abortion or unjust wars — that the case is closed and we cannot object. We must never think that loyalty to our country means we cannot speak out.

We should never be under the impression that the Catholic Church must be silent once the politicians start talking.

And when we have learned to use the beautiful teachings of our faith to guide the policies and programs of our country we will be better Americans — precisely because we have become better Catholics.

Tenebrae Factae Sunt

If you live anywhere near Chicago and have not heretofore attended the Tenebrae service at St. John Cantius Parish, I envy you.

I say that because you have the chance to experience this amazingly beautiful service — surely Holy Mother Church's most sublime non-Mass liturgy — for the first time tomorrow (Spy Wednesday) night at 7:30. [Get directions to SJC here.)

The office of Tenebrae:

...contains 14 psalms, 9 readings, and one canticle, the Benedictus (Song of Zechariah). Lighting is gradually reduced throughout the service. Initially 15 candles are lit and are placed on a special stand known as a hearse, which are extinguished one by one after each psalm. The last candle is hidden beneath the altar, ending the service in total darkness. In some places the use of a strepitus (Latin for "great noise") is included as part of the service. The great noise is usually generated by slamming a book closed, banging a hymnal or breviary against the pew, or stomping on the floor, symbolizing the earthquake that followed Christ's death. This custom seems to have originated as a simple signal to depart in silence. Following the great noise a single candle, which had been hidden from view is returned to the top of the hearse. It is felt that the single candle signifies the return of Christ to the world with the Resurrection.

At the conclusion of the SJC Tenebrae service, when the church is in total darkness but before the strepitus, the choir sings Allegri's hauntingly beautiful Miserere — the hearing of which is, for me personally, the high point of Lent.

Doh!

I've been outed.

If I ever encounter an overzealous neo-HUAC enthusiast who will stop at nothing to get an answer to, "Are you now, or have you ever been in conversation with a former member of the Communist Party?" I'll know who to blame.

Best. Church Picnic. Ever. 2.0

52 weeks ago I mentioned that the St. John Cantius annual church picnic was the best one I'd ever been to for one reason:

They served Hacker-Pschorr.

Ditto this year's picnic, yesterday.

And there was much rejoicing...

That, and the conversation (with folks like The Dutchman) wasn't bad either.

Brush Up Your Latin

I will have the great fortune to serve the Tridentine Mass for the first time this Monday, as a newly ordained priest from the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter will be coming to our office to offer Mass in our St. Joseph Chapel:



In the meantime, I'm finding this Tutorial for Altar Servers—which, incidentally, is a project of our parish—to be extraordinarily helpful.

Oremus

In response to the increasingly messy Father Pfleger situation, the most intelligent comment I've come across so far is one that simply encouraged prayers on his behalf.

So too, we should pray earnestly for Cardinal George, that he will have the wisdom of Solomon in pastorally sorting out the various sticky wickets presented by Father Pfleger and the congregation at St. Sabina.

I Love a Parade

In honor of its 100th anniversary, the working-class Chicago suburb that is home to Haus Jansen and is known for, among other things, being the subject of a running gag on the local TV show Svengoolie, a public safety director who beat up a guy in a bar on the last local election day, and, more recently, making the boneheaded decision to demolish a Sears, Roebuck & Co. mail-order home, held a parade on Sunday.

Whereas we love a good parade, but hadn't been to one in quite some time — come to think of it, I think this was the first parade any of our issue had seen — we were there. With bells on.

So too was the aforementioned Svengoolie:



There were also a bunch of cool old cars:







Also on hand was our local parish, St. Odilo, which happens to be the National Shrine of the Souls in Purgatory:



I've gotta hand it to the pastor, the redoubtable Father Tony Brankin, whose brainchild it was to have the kids on the float represent, fittingly enough, the souls in purgatory:



To be sure, a good time was had by all.

Hark! The Ark!

After I dropped off an old computer monitor and other various and sundry items at the Goose Island recycling facility (and got some free compact fluorescent light bulbs!) this morning, I had breakfast at the nearby Ark Cafe, which rightly styles itself as a "unique, quaint, and charming Christian based cafe".

The Ark was recommended by some friends, and it's also been advertising in the St. John Cantius bulletin — with a coupon for a free cup of coffee, no less!

It was "damn good coffee", as Agent Cooper would say, and the spinach quiche was yummy.

If you're local, check thou it out. It's open from 7am - 10pm Monday through Saturday, and their website indicates that they will soon be open on Sundays too.

"Introibo ad Altare Dei..."

Berwyn, Illinois, the working-class Chicago suburb that has been home to Haus Jansen for the past two and a half years, is probably best known as being the home to an alleged piece of art called The Spindle:





Happily, as of tomorrow night, our corrupt fair city will have another claim to fame: It will once again be home to a Catholic church that offers the Tridentine Mass!

Father Tony Brankin, the pastor of St. Odilo Parish—which is located just a few blocks from Haus Jansen—will be offering the Tridentine Mass at 7:00pm on each of the next three Tuesdays (6, 13, and 20 November).

For those of you unfamiliar with the Chicago Catholic scene, Father Brankin enjoys a well-deserved reputation among local orthodox Catholics. He's down to earth, brilliant, and holy. He's also a real Renaissance man. Musically talented, he plays the harp, the fiddle, the accordion, and he's also an accomplished sculptor. (I recall hearing recently that he has been commissioned by St. Louis Archbishop Raymond Burke to create a sculpture of the Holy Family.)

As I wrote several months ago, at the Mass when he was installed as pastor earlier this year, he didn't pull any punches. In the homily, he said:

I will preach on behalf of families and against things that hurt families like contraception. I will preach for life and against abortion—and against any Culture of Death politicians who support abortion.

There will be no "Well we don't really believe in that anymore" from me.

I am not smart enough to start my own religion—so I will follow Christ's—His revelation about what we must believe and do to be saved.

I will try to remember what I told a young priest once who asked me if I had one single thing I could tell him that would help him in his priesthood—and I was taken aback and responded, "Jim, just try to remember that things are a lot simpler than we often make of them—it's about God's grace and saving souls."

As I've said before, although I've only attended a handful of Tridentine Masses in my lifetime, and although I have exactly no sympathy for those insist on the abolition of the Novus Ordo, I'd definitely say I'm a fan of the Tridentine Mass.

Needless to say, perhaps, our family is planning to attend all three Tridentine Masses at St. Odilo this month.

How Medieval of Her

I'd never before seen anyone holding a dog whilst presenting oneself to receive Holy Communion.

Until last week, that is.

One morning last week at Mass at our neighborhood parish, I had to do a double take when I saw a woman walking up to receive Communion, holding in her arms what appeared to be either a cocker spaniel or a poodle. While it made no noise, I can verify that it was not simply a stuffed animal that I mistook for a live dog; this was the real McCoy.

At the end of Mass, the woman appeared to be leading the dog out the back door of the church on a leash.

Why did this woman bring her dog to Mass? God only knows.

What I do know, though, is that this episode prompted me to recall a comment made by Sandra Miesel on this post on Catholic and Enjoying It! some time ago:

Medieval people took their hawks and hounds to Mass and Byzantine harlots turned tricks in the galleries of the old Hagia Sophia while the Liturgy was in progress.

To which another commenter said:

Next time I see someone with his hawk at church I'm going to say, "how medieval of you," and I'll mean it as a compliment!

Hence the title of this post.

[Cross-posted at Catholic Dads]

Best. Church Picnic. Ever.

Despite a weekend rainfall total approaching biblical proportions that moved nearly all activities into the basement, yesterday's church picnic at St. John Cantius Parish was the best one I've ever attended, for one reason and one reason only:

They served Hacker-Pschorr beer.

Need I say more?