In this chapter, Peter Kwasniewski discusses the most notable differences between low Mass and high Mass. When I had first heard of these words, I was confused by the terminology thinking that a low Mass was a Novus Ordo Mass. It's not. A low Mass is a Mass where the prayer is done without chanting. Whereas the high Mass is done with chanting. This chapter of Kwasniewski's is a matter of meditation. He shares his personal observances and how they apply. I feel similarly in my experiences with the Divine Liturgy as well. Though I have never been to a Tridentine Mass as I refuse to attend a parish where a sketchy Mass has been observed, I have experienced both chanting and non-chanting liturgies. I have noticed that many of things Kwasniewski meditates on, I can relate to here as well.
For instance, in the low Mass, where no chanting is done, the prayers bring us to a state of silence. We observe our own silence with God and we are confronted with the noise of our thoughts. We are attuned to the reality that God is not to be found in the clamoring noisiness of life, the earthquake or the wind or the fire, but in the soft whisper. We are brought to a sense of aloneness where we are not truly alone but find ourselves instead with the angels, looking at our Creator, and observing together the saints who look longingly toward the Creator. God becomes our only desire. There is a self-emptying taking place. This is where the soul is led to in silence because it now sees that it must do battle against its thoughts. It is in thought where sin initially blossoms. We cannot always control our thoughts but we can control our actions. It is in the silence where we are forced to confront our thoughts and the confrontation against thoughts leads to the self-emptying.
I have been to many Anglican Masses and most of them have been of the low Mass. It is here, that the only noise that permeates seems to be the priest's prayers, the chirping of birds, and the woodpecker. I am confronted with my thoughts. Early in the morning, if I have not slept well, I am confronted with the temptation of wanting to fall asleep. I am forced to confront myself. This self-confrontation leads the cult of self-worship and humanistic individualism to an uncomfortable position in their livelihoods. This is why most of the opponents of the Tridentine Mass typically also favor some form of humanistic liberalism. They want no desire to bring their thoughts inward or to meditate upon their own fallenness. The Novus Ordo brings them comfort and they desire not to break from their comfort zone. The Novus Ordo has left the Catholic faith with a dead meditative practice.
I also notice the same when in the Ukrainian Catholic parish I visit on occasion. Sometimes, when they have no cantor, they cannot have a liturgy as is typical, but must do it without chanting. There is again that confrontation with the self. Even as I follow along with the liturgy, my senses are brought inward and I confront the thoughts I have had this week. I bring myself toward conviction. I stand as a condemned man in need of the grace I will be offered by the blood of my Lord. It is the desire for God's grace that ultimately is lost by the noisiness, the hustle and bustle, of the world that we are living in. It is the confrontation with the self, the realization that the self is not to be worshiped but handed over to God and offered as sacrifice, that is what the Novus Ordo cult of self-worship opposes.
On the other hand, the high Mass, which is chanted, invites the soul to enter into the communion of all saints. It shows that the soul is not isolated on an island but enters into the chorus of angels. Salvation is not something that occurs by one's own will power, though it is worked out in fear and trembling at an individual level, this must happen within the communion of those who have handed down tradition. Tradition is not what we have of our own but instead is handed down to us. To annul tradition is to embrace the most radical form of individualism. In the liturgy, we enter the chorus of angels, of saints, of those who came before us in the faith, and enter into the communion with our brethren. I remember writing a note to my godmother back in January wishing to leave the liturgy and asking if I could do so. She wrote a note back saying that if I need to I may but I would miss communion with Christ and with my brethren.
There is on the one hand, silence. A silence that forces one to confront the noise of the mind. That is a low Mass. And on the other hand, there is a form of loudness, not noise, but loudness which calls the mind to communion with God and with angels, saints, and the entirety of the Church. Though I have not been to a Tridentine Mass, I find the livestreams of Tridentine Mass services to be beneficial for exploration and I have found the high Mass to be extremely beautiful. It is everything I know of what the liturgy really ought to be. In the Byzantine rite, we regularly chant our liturgies. It is in the sole exception of the Ukrainian Catholic parish where I've noticed that a non-chanted liturgy has occurred. In many Orthodox churches too, the law requires that all liturgies be chanted. This is because it provides a loudness that elevates and frees the soul from being a prisoner of its own thoughts and recalls the mind to God. God is supremely loud and superbly quiet as the Crazy Church Lady testifies.
In my experience as an Anglican, I have also been to the high Mass where the liturgy is chanted and hymns are exuberantly sung during different intervals. These liturgies are much longer but there is an inherent beauty that is elaborated by the length. Once again, the soul finds itself confronted with its individual thoughts but rather remaining enslaved to them fighting its own battle, the high Mass is where the soul is allowed to elevate itself to the thoughts of the angels and saints. There are more bombastic liturgies and much more mellow liturgies too. The liturgies, in essence, are without mood. The tone reflects only the level and type of angelic joy that one is brought to. I find Russian chant to be most beautiful. The Slavonic tone is far more mellow the Arab tone of my Melkite parish. The Gregorian chant is incredibly beautiful too. But there is benefit from the Arab tone. All of these elevate the soul to untold communal levels of joy. If we liked every single part of the liturgy though, then it would be of our own creation and we would never be saved.
No comments:
Post a Comment