Sacrosanctum Concilium:
The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy
Introduction
“What in the world is going on here?”
When a non-Catholic wanders into one of our churches during
Mass, that’s their first question, right? “What in the world is going on here?” This reality has provided ample fodder for comics over the
years. Ever heard of Larry the
Cable Guy? (You never thought
you’d hear his name mentioned at this workshop, did you?) Larry has a sketch where he talks about
going with a friend to Mass…and not realizing he was in for an exercise
routine: “Boy, you gotta be in shape to go there!” he says. “Down, up, sit down, stand up, do a
shot, kneel back down, stand up…”
“What in the world is going on here?”
Pursuing a more sincere answer to that question has been
known to provoke not belly-shaking laughter, but heart-changing conversion. Dr. Scott Hahn frequently tells a story
from back when he was still a
rather anti-Catholic Presbyterian minister:
rather anti-Catholic Presbyterian minister:
…I quietly slipped into the
basement chapel…. They were having
a noon Mass and I had never gone to Mass before.… I sat down in the back pew. I didn't kneel.
I didn't genuflect, I wouldn't stand. I was an observer; I was there to watch.… Then a bell rang and they all stood up
and Mass began. I had never seen
it before.… They read more
Scripture, I thought, in a weekday Mass than we read in a Sunday service. …their prayers were soaked with
Biblical language and phrases….
Wow! It's like the Bible
coming to life and dancing out on the center stage and saying, “This is where I
belong.”
“What in the world is going on here?”
I propose it was in an attempt to answer that very question
that the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council approved the very first of the
Council’s 16 documents.
When most Catholics think of Vatican II, they think of Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Constitution
on the Sacred Liturgy, solemnly promulgated on December 4, 1963—precisely 50 years ago today. Why? Well, for one thing, of all the conciliar
documents, it made the most obvious difference in the average Catholic’s life:
it brought about significant changes in the celebration of the Mass. Latin turned into English, the priest
turned around at the altar, and choirs signing to the organ turned into folk
groups strumming guitars…or, at least, that’s the common perception of what
Vatican II did for the Church’s worship.
But the Constitution on the Liturgy stands out for other
reasons, too. In many ways, it was
programmatic of everything else the Council set out to accomplish. In other words, beyond liturgical
reform, it revealed the Council’s wider agenda. In its very first paragraph, it announces to the Church and
to the world that this Sacrosanctum
Concilium—this “most sacred Council”—has set out:
(1) to reinvigorate the Catholic
faithful in living the Christian life;
(2) to adapt those aspects of the
Church which can be changed to the needs of the modern age;
(3) to promote greater unity among
all who believe in Christ; and
(4) to call all mankind anew to
enter the Church’s fold [1].
Clearly, that was quite an ambitious agenda!
Much like the previews shown before the feature film, The
Constitution on the Liturgy also gives us many hints of coming attractions from this Council:
(1) it speaks repeatedly of the
Church’s true and essential nature, as will the Dogmatic Constitution on the
Church, Lumen Gentium [2, 6-7];
(2) it speaks repeatedly of the
Church as a sign lifted up among the nations, as will the Pastoral Constitution
on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium
et Spes [2, 9]; and
(3) it speaks repeatedly of the
centrality of Sacred Tradition [23] and Sacred Scripture [24, 51], in the life
of the Church, as will the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation, Dei Verbum.
Sacrosanctum Concilium
is able to bear the burden of such weighty themes because its subject is
the very summit toward which all of the Church’s activity is directed and the
very source from which all her power flows: the Sacred Liturgy—in particular, the
Most Holy Eucharist [10].
It could be tempting, of course, to assume that it was for such
lofty reasons that this was the first
document to be issued by Vatican II.
But according to the recollections of an up-and-coming German theologian
who assisted at the Council—a certain Fr. Joseph Ratzinger—the Bishops’
motivation was much more mundane: this was, by far, the least controversial
subject on the table, and the preparatory work had been more carefully carried
out. That’s not to say the text
was without debate: discussion of the draft dragged on for three weeks, with
more than 600 interventions by the Bishops, whether spoken from the floor or
submitted in writing. But in the
final voting, it passed by a landslide: 2,147 in favor, only 4 against.
Context
To better understand where the Constitution on the Liturgy
is coming from—and why it was approved by such a wide margin—I think a little
background is helpful.
First, we need to be aware of the wider context of the
Council itself. In contrast to the
previous 20 ecumenical Councils recognized by Catholics, Vatican II was not convened
in reaction to a particular crisis or attack on the Church—such as the Council
of Trent following the Protestant Reformation. Instead, Blessed Pope John XXIII called the world’s Bishops
to Rome with the intention of bringing the Church into dialogue with the modern
world. The problem wasn’t that
doctrine or discipline were being aggressively challenged by forces inside or
outside the Church; the problem was that contemporary men and women were
finding it increasingly difficult to see them as truly relevant to their daily
lives. So the Council’s entire
tone would be different from those of the past: focused less on dogma and rules
for enforcement, and more on an appropriate pastoral response to the needs of
the day.
That is to say, Vatican II wanted to make it easier for
people—Catholics or otherwise—when they looked at the Church, to answer that probing
question, “What in the world is going on here?”
So, very quietly, a movement began—the Liturgical
Movement. It started in France,
but spread across the European continent and then to North America; it
originated in monasteries, but gradually moved into parishes. Scholars dug deep into the history of
the liturgy, hoping to recover its original vitality. The designs of church buildings, priestly vestments, and
sacred vessels began to reflect their discoveries—returning to a noble
simplicity after much baroque excess.
The clergy were encouraged to go beyond a merely mechanical obedience of
the rubrics—and the bare minimum required, at that—and appropriate the true spirit
of the liturgy. And such a
liturgical spirituality was promoted for the laity, as well—moving them from
being passive spectators on the sidelines to being genuine participants: from
praying at Mass to praying the Mass. It was believed that, by drawing people more deeply into the
Sacred Mysteries, not only the Church but also culture and society at large could
be transformed.
As the Liturgical Movement grew, it gained momentum, attention—and
support at the highest level. Pope
Leo XIII permitted missals to be printed in the vernacular, so that people could
follow the texts of the Mass in their own language. Pope St. Pius X encouraged frequent reception of Holy
Communion beginning at an early age, rather than what had become customary:
just once a year; he also restored Gregorian chant—the native music of the
Roman liturgy, meant to be sung by all, which had over time been replaced by
devotional hymns or performance pieces sung by a choir. Pope Pius XI endorsed the “dialogue
Mass,” during which the entire congregation responded to the prayers—not just the
altar boys. And Pope Pius XII
didn’t simply publish an entire encyclical—Mediator
Dei—devoted to the liturgy, but put theory into practice by beginning the
reform of the liturgies of Holy Week in the early 1950’s.
One hundred and fifty years of groundwork had been carefully
laid before the world’s Bishops assembled at Vatican II.
Purpose
Sacrosanctum Concilium
tells us quite explicitly that its purpose is twofold: the promotion and
restoration of the sacred liturgy [3, 14]. The liturgy—like the Church and like her Founder—is
essentially both human and divine: made up of visible, physical elements which
are directed toward and subordinate to invisible, spiritual realties [2, 7, 8]. Thus we have promotion: the Council calling the Church to look “under the hood,”
if you will, of the liturgy—to become familiar with that which God is
accomplishing unseen; to recognize at the deepest level “what in the world is really going on here.” And we also have restoration: taking the liturgy to the “body shop,” so as to make
sure the rest of the vehicle—its sensible, tangible components—is truly worthy
of its engine. The Constitution on
the Liturgy’s intent is to assure that what is happening outwardly in the
Church’s worship is a clear and faithful expression of “what is going on” deep
within her.
Promotion
Promotion of the liturgy—“getting inside of it”—was the
chief preoccupation of the Liturgical Movement, and is (no surprise) the chief
preoccupation of this document, too.
The Council Fathers remind us that the Apostles, sent forth
by Christ, didn’t just preach about his Death and Resurrection: the Word continued
to become flesh, as it where, when those who believed were Baptized and broke
the bread of the Lord’s Supper [6].
And each new generation of believers has gone out to the world with more
than a spoken message of Good News, but with the living and active presence of
him who is the source, center, and substance of that Gospel. Sacrosanctum
Concilium highlights four modes in which Christ is present in the Church’s
liturgy:
(1) Christ is present, first and
foremost, in the Mass—in the person of the priest and, above all, in the sacred
species of the Most Holy Eucharist;
(2) Christ is present in the celebration
of the other sacraments;
(3) Christ is present when the
Scriptures are proclaimed; and
(4) Christ is present when the
Church gathers to sing and pray in his name [7].
Because Jesus Christ is one Body with his bride, the Church—his
presence permeating her so intimately and completely—the Head and members
cannot act apart from one another.
Accordingly, under signs that can be seen and heard, touched and tasted,
and—yes—even smelled, the world’s salvation and sanctification—the fruit of the
dying and rising of the Son of God—continues to be worked out in the liturgy. While it is not the whole of her
activity [9], nonetheless no other action of the Church can equal it [7]. The spiritual life of the faithful is
certainly not limited to the liturgy [12]; however, all true devotion must
necessarily be in harmony with it [13].
In order for the liturgy to be effective—for this unseen
presence to change the world we can see—it is crucial for us to be properly
disposed: that we be aware of what we’re doing; that our minds be in tune with
our voices; that we be engaged in and enriched by the ritual action; that we
cooperate with heavenly grace, lest we receive it in vain [11]. If Christ is really and truly present
in the liturgy, then—by golly—we need to be really and truly present, too. Therefore—in what are probably the most
powerful words of the entire Constitution—“Mother Church earnestly desires that
all the faithful should be led to that full, conscious, and active
participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature
of the liturgy, and to which the Christian people…have a right and obligation…”
[14]. Participation! Whether as a noun or a verb, the word
shows up 28 times. We, the
baptized, are duty-bound to take part—to involve ourselves—in the liturgy in a
manner that is:
(1) full: engaging the whole person—both bodily and spiritually, inside
and out;
(2) conscious: knowing (as best we’re able) just what it is that we’re
doing; and
(3) active.
“Active” here requires some extra explanation. The original Latin expression is “participatio actuosa.” It usually gets translated as “active
participation,” which is generally taken to mean engaging people through songs,
responses, gestures, or any number of ministries; it puts the accent on giving
people something to do. But such
an understanding is only partly right.
A more accurate translation—although, admittedly, its sounds poor in
English—is “actual participation,” which sets a much higher standard: engaging
not just people’s bodies, but their minds, their hearts, and their wills, as
well; it’s not so much about getting folks to do something, as it is getting
folks to allow Christ to act—to do something—through, with and in them. That really raises the bar! It’s essential—we’re told—that the
Church’s pastors be properly trained, making sure that they understand this,
because fostering this sort of participation is one of their chief
responsibilities [14-19]. The
Council is calling Catholics at every level to be completely awake to “what in
the world is going on here.”
So much for looking “under the hood”! Now that we know the liturgy
isn’t a model straight out of the Flintstones (one we have to power ourselves),
but instead has an engine all souped-up and turbo-charged by the presence and
action of Christ, it’s time to see what shape the rest of the vehicle is in.
Restoration
Before getting into the specific bodywork the Bishops have
in mind—about changes to be made in the liturgy, particularly the Mass—Sacrosanctum Concilium lays down some
ground rules.
(1) The liturgy is made up of both
unchangeable elements and elements which can be—maybe even ought to be—changed.
It’s absolutely crucial to
recognize the difference [21].
Which is why…
(2) …the liturgy is regulated by
the Church’s highest authority: the Pope and, in certain cases, the
Bishops. Nobody, not nobody (and,
for some reason, it singles out us priests) is to tinker with it on his own
[22]. Which is meant to guarantee
that…
(3) …any changes to the liturgy are
in line with the Church’s Tradition.
While this restoration ought to take into account contemporary
experience, changes must be preceded by careful study, organically flow from
existing forms, and be made only if the good of the Church requires it [23]. And in the Church’s Tradition, few
things are more important than…
(4) Sacred Scripture, which has a
central part to play in the liturgy. If we’re going to promote and restore the liturgy, then we
must do so loving the Scriptures [24].
(5) The liturgy is both
hierarchical and communal. Changes
must make it clear that liturgical rites are never private functions but the
celebration of the whole Church.
Each person, whether clergy or lay, ought to be fully engaged in his or
her proper role…but in only that role [26-32]. (In other words, be sure you’re doing your job, and don’t go
trying to take anybody else’s.)
(6) The liturgy is both instructive
and pastoral. In the liturgy, God
speaks to his people and his people respond [33]. In order to make sure that this communication is clear…
a. when it comes to rituals: they
should be marked by a noble simplicity, and not be so complicated that they
cannot be easily understood [34];
b. when it comes to texts: the
Scriptures should be read more, preaching should be improved, and appropriate
liturgical instruction should be provided [35]; and
c. when it comes to language: Latin
is still the first choice and is to be preserved…but local languages have a valuable
place [36].
(7) The liturgy can and even should
be adapted to the temperaments and traditions of particular peoples. This expressed a concern especially for
mission lands. Local customs could
be incorporated, as long as “substantial unity” was preserved with the rest of
the Church [37-40]. In other
words: there’s a way for the liturgy to be both properly Roman and truly
“Catholic” (universal).
(8) The liturgy of the
Bishop—surrounded by his priests and people—in his cathedral is the principle
manifestation of the local Church, and therefore must be held in highest
esteem. But since the Bishop can’t
be everywhere (although ours seems to be trying to prove otherwise), the
liturgical life of the parish is also of great importance. For this reason, national and diocesan
commissions on liturgy and sacred art should be established to promote the
needed renewal [41-46].
From these general principles, the Council Fathers move on to
specific reforms. Here’s where the
“rubber hits the road.” They begin
at the top, with the Mass, outlining nine concrete mandates:
(1) that the rites of the Mass be
simplified by removing unnecessary repetitions and bringing back unfortunate
losses, all the while preserving their substance [50];
(2) that more of the Bible be read
at Mass, and the readings be arranged in a cycle laid out over several years
[51];
(3) that the homily be seen as an
essential part of the Mass, be more carefully prepared, and be omitted only for
serious reasons [52];
(4) that the Prayer of the Faithful
be restored after disappearing many centuries before [53];
(5) that local languages may be
used for the readings, the Prayer of the Faithful, and the people’s parts…but folks
still ought to know these parts in Latin, too [54];
(6) that it’s preferable for people
to receive Hosts consecrated at the same Mass they’re attending, rather than
from a previous one [55];
(7) that Holy Communion may be
distributed under both kinds on a few special occasions [55];
(8) that people be helped to
understand that the Mass is composed of two parts—the Liturgy of the Word and
the Liturgy of the Eucharist—and that they really should be there for both [56];
and
(9) that concelebration—multiple
priests offering one and the same Mass—be permitted [57].
Nothing too earth shattering in that list! In fact, what’s surprising 50 years
later is all that is not there. There’s
nothing about turning the altar around or strumming on guitars. The door is opened to allowing English
at Mass…but alongside Latin, not instead of it. There’s no mention of moving the tabernacle or Communion in
the hand. Such changes—and their
associated controversies—would come a little farther down the line: after the
Council, as a result of things this Constitution set in motion or how it was
being interpreted.
Sacrosanctum Concilium
continues for several more chapters, doing for the rest of the liturgy—for the other
sacraments and sacramentals [59-82], for the Divine Office [83-101], for the
calendar of seasons and saints [102-111], for sacred music [112-121], art, and
furnishings [122-130]—what it did for the Mass: restorations far too numerous
to be discussed now, and all of them intended to help us have a better sense of
“what is going on here.”
Impact
So…how did the Constitution on the Liturgy do?
At the 50 year mark, many people are rejoicing—and rightly
so. Look how far we’ve come! When a half-century ago we had only
altar boys, ushers, and a choir…now we’ve got permanent deacons, Readers and
extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, greeters, art and environment
committees. New liturgical
music—praise God, of increasing quality—is being published all the time. We’ve seen a lot of changes, and a lot
of it has been good.
But this optimism must also be tempered by an honest
examination of conscience. Because
if the founders of the Liturgical Movement—people holy, learned, and wise—believed
that the best way to renew the Church was to renew her worship, then why aren’t
our pews overflowing?
One reason might be the law of unintended consequences—things
you don’t have to be a scholar to recognize and lament. In the desire to simplify
the rites of the Church and make them more accessible, some symbols have been
minimized or even lost. (Catholics
used to be known for “smells and bells”; now many parishes lack both.) Not wanting to be preoccupied with
details, reverent ceremonial has given way to a rather casual—sometimes even
sloppy—approach: one which fails to point to these as truly “sacred mysteries.” (Every few weeks, I see a letter to the
editor in the Plattsburgh Press
Republican, complaining that altar servers are misbehaving…“not—I tell you—like
my sons back in the day.”) Openings
for creativity and adaptation have left some congregations subject to the
changing whims and fancies of individuals (usually their pastors), committees,
or the latest trend promoted by the “experts”; meant to include more of the
faithful, this has generally alienated (or at least confused) a greater number
than it involved. (I know of a community where Catholics
celebrate Advent in purple at one end of town and in blue at the other.) And moving the celebrant to the other
side of the altar has put more focus on the priest—his person and personality—not
less. There can be no mistaking
any of this for renewal.
But I think our real difficulty is far more elementary than
all that. I think that we got so
very busy restoring the liturgy, that we failed to really promote it. So much time and energy was invested in
hubcaps and hood ornaments, racing stripes and fuzzy dice—whether stripping off
the old ones or putting on new ones—that we neglected to pay much mind to what
was going on under the hood. And,
in the end, what a vehicle looks like pales in importance when compared to
whether or not it will take you where you hope to go. If we don’t know what
we’re celebrating—better yet, if we don’t know who we’re celebrating—then how can we ever know how we ought to celebrate it?
Conclusion
Exactly 50 years ago, the Second Vatican Council
promulgated a document that brought about very noticeable changes in the way
Catholics worship. With the urgent
needs of the New Evangelization, I think we’d do well to spend the next 50
years focused less on Sacrosanctum
Concilium’s mandate of restoration, and more on its call to promotion of
the liturgy. When anguished
parishioners speak to me of family members or friends who no longer practice
the faith or have left the Church altogether, they often ask, “But how could
they walk away from the Eucharist?”
I think the more pressing question is, “Did they ever really understand
it? Did they have any good idea
what in the world is going on here?”
The liturgy—like the Church to which it has been
entrusted—is a living organism.
Living things change. With
the proper care, they flourish and grow; neglected, they wither and decay. Regardless, they will change. And the only time they will stop
changing is when they have died.
In this living, changing relationship between the Church and her
worship, it is critical that we remember: it’s not so much that Christians make
(and remake) the liturgy, as that the liturgy makes (and remakes) Christians.
The first document of the Second Vatican Council sought to
reinvigorate—to give new vitality, to bring new life to—the Church by promoting
and restoring her liturgy. To that
I say a hearty, “Amen! May it be
so!”
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