Best. Spoof. Ever.

Not only that, it won the Papyrus Font Award!



Mark Shea comments thusly:

The layers of post-modern irony and metanarrative are thick as leaves in a Vermont forest in October, but dayum is this funny and spot on.

Cradle Catholics and Emergents have an almost impenetrably different understanding of what "worship" means. For Emergents (following their Evangelical parents) worship is profoundly bound up with music (the most disincarnational of the arts, unless you happen to be the one playing it). Evangelicalism, being leery of the Incarnation whenever you encounter it today tends to focus a lot on the verbal and auditory as distinct from the physical and tangible. So the Eucharist is "magic" but worship in which the believer moves himself into a "state of worship" is, well, worship.

Inevitably, it results in the sort of thing spoofed here.

I'm gonna have to go ahead and disagree with him about music's being disincarnational, but I can't argue with him about Evangelical Protestantism's inherent leeriness about the Incarnation as it is encountered today through various means, including, but by no means limited to, the Sacraments.

"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.

Concert This Sunday

Given the fact that our baby has yet to make his/her debut among the ranks of the born, I don't think it will be in the cards for us to attend the Ecclesia Men's Chorus concert this Sunday at St. Josaphat Parish.

Alas.

I know two of the fellows in this ensemble — Paul Wierzbowski and Karl Schudt — and they're both excellent singers.

And the director, Tim Woods, is no slouch himself. Ten years ago, whilst a student at Loyola, I had the privilege of being part of a small ensemble under his direction that we formed to sing (actually chant, mostly) for a special Mass, and I was utterly impressed with his musical acumen.

Needless to say, if you're in the Chicago area, do thou go! You'll love it.

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.

Massive Creation

From The New Liturgical Movement, via Sean Dailey:

The music in New York and at Vespers in Washington at the Shrine is forward looking and impressive. It seems impossible that at the Pope's April 17th Mass in Wasington, D.C., that anyone could possibly schedule The Mass of Creation by Marty Haugen,: the Sanctus, the "Great Amen," and Agnus Dei. Composed in 1984 (I think), with obvious Broadway influence and overdone melodrama, it has been an unrelenting presence in parishes all over the country. In fact, it is legendarily over used, in every season, again and again and again, so much so that these parts of the Mass sometimes seems like the movie Groundhog Day.

In all honesty, I can't bring myself to get worked up about this.

Although it might scandalize some St. Blog's hangers-on, I actually don't mind some of Marty Haugen's music—including "Mass of Creation".

There. I said it.

One thing I will say, though, is that this reference prompted me to recall my favorite "Mass of Creation" anecdote:

My college choir director once told me about a wedding he attended, the music for which included "Mass of Creation" — only in the program it was rendered "Massive Creation by Marty Haugen".

Apparently they had only hitherto heard "Mass of Creation" spoken and never seen it in print.

Now, whenever I hear or see the words "Mass of Creation", I can't help but chuckle.

Who Knew?

As we were getting the song sheets ready for next week's Empty Manger Christmas Caroling outside several local abortion clinics, I learned two things about one of my favorite carols, God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.

First, I learned that the title is "God Rest Ye Merry [COMMA] Gentlemen", and not "God Rest Ye [COMMA] Merry Gentlemen".

Heretofore, I'd always thought the carol had only three verses. It actually has seven:


God rest ye merry, gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
For Jesus Christ our Saviour (or Remember Christ our Saviour)
Was born upon this day (or Was born on Christmas Day)
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy


In Bethlehem, in Jewry, (or "in Israel")
This blessèd Babe was born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessèd morn
To which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy


From God our Heavenly Father
A blessèd Angel came;
And unto certain Shepherds
Brought tidings of the same:
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by Name.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy


"Fear not then," said the Angel,
"Let nothing you affright,
This day is born a Saviour
Of a pure Virgin bright,
To free all those who trust in Him
From Satan's power and might."

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy


The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding
In tempest, storm and wind:
And went to Bethlehem straightway
This blessed Babe to find. (or The Son of God to find)

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy


But when to Bethlehem they came (or And when they came to Bethlehem)
Whereat this Infant lay, (or Where our dear Saviour lay)
They found Him in a manger,
Where oxen feed on hay;
His Mother Mary kneeling, (or His mother Mary kneeling down,)
Unto the Lord did pray.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy


Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All other doth efface.

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy