and save them from the power of their enemies
as long as the judge lived;
it was thus the LORD took pity on their distressful cries
of affliction under their oppressors.
But when the judge died,
they would relapse and do worse than their ancestors,
following other gods in service and worship,
relinquishing none of their evil practices or stubborn conduct.
I learned about Pope Saint Pius X when I was a boy. Whereas my grandparents had received their First Communion as teenagers, the Saint allowed my parents' and my generation to receive the Eucharist when we attained "the age of reason," which was deemed about seven.
The liturgical reforms of the Vatican Council shook a lot of people up; but that was, at least in part, because they were so misinformed about the history of liturgical reforms. The twentieth century saw the Prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel added to the end of the Mass. Americans were allowed to celebrate parts of baptism and funeral rites in their own language. And Catholics were encouraged to receive the Eucharist often, though that suggestion never took effect until the onerous requirement of fasting since midnight was lifted.
Pope Pius X especially encouraged more lay participation in the Mass. They should follow the Mass with their missals, which he introduced, rather than reciting the rosary of other prayers. My mother recalled servers reading the English version of the Mass as the priest read the Latin. Gregorian Chant was reintroduced for its sing-ability, to permit choirs and congregations better participation.
There was clearly a desire for the entire Church to pray in unison with one mind and heart. We're getting there!
We're challenged today first by the weariness of the congregation. Many people only want some peace and quiet when they come to Church on Sunday morning. They don't want to sing or move about; they're tired of being hammered by social media and blaring televisions. They don't want to hear about politics or social issues or the environment. They want something familiar, soothing, and non-invasive, preferably in their own language. Suspicious of strangers, they don't want to sit in a densely packed room with a lot of people; loud speakers allow them to sit remote and removed from singers, readers, and preachers. Unlike their ancestors, they have a perfect dread of body odor.
But the Holy Spirit remains with the Church. She still draws us to worship together despite our weariness, fear of strangers, fear of contamination, fear of the unfamiliar, and fear of engagement.
This is the spirit of Saint Pius X, of Pope Saint John Paul II, and our own Pope Francis. As we learn the art of synodality -- which is not poll-taking but listening collectively to the Lord -- we will become more ready to sing God's praises with one voice, one mind, and one heart.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.