The Freedom to Do Business

As in, I'd dare say, most communities, my town has a broad selection of churches of various denominations, including a fundamentalist Baptist church.

The pastor of this church is a graduate of Bob Jones University, a notoriously anti-Catholic institution in Greenville, South Carolina, and for several months now has run an article in our community's weekly newspaper calling Catholic doctrine on Baptism "false." My pastor, Father C, has recently had some trouble with a member of the fundamentalist church's flock:

In his dealings with our parish's bank, Father has had several interactions, both over the phone and in person, with a particular teller. Despite his repeated efforts to explain that his proper title is "Father," this woman has steadfastly refused to call him anything but "Mr C." When asked why she refused to call him "Father," she replied that she couldn't do so, as (according to her) Jesus prohibited use of that title in Matthew 23:9:

Call no one on earth your father, for you have but one Father in heaven. (Mt 23:9, NAB)

Father contacted the bank's human resources department to complain, and got a sympathetic ear, but not much else, so he's considering moving the parish's accounts to another bank.

We are blessed in America with a Constitution and Bill of Rights that guarantee, among other things, freedom of religion. As much as I disagree with and, frankly, dislike, what the teller has been taught in her church, she still has the right to believe what she does, and I won't begrudge her that right. On the other hand, that same Constitution and Bill of Rights give us, albeit not explicitly, the right to take our business to whatever companies we please. If I don't like the fact that a particular employee, while otherwise polite, refuses to render me a basic courtesy, then I don't have to continue going to that business.

The same principle applies with pharmacists and other medical professionals who exercise their privileges under medical conscience clauses, provisions in some state laws and corporate policies that allow a professional or institution to refuse to provide a product or service contrary to conscience (e.g. no abortions or prescriptions for contraceptives at a Catholic hospital). If, say, a woman wants to take "the pill," and her physician refuses to do so on moral grounds, the woman is just as free to get a second opinion from a doctor who has no such qualms as Father C is to take his banking business somewhere he'll get the courtesy he's owed.

Yet to think that there are people out there who don't seem to get this simple principle—the ones who'd love to force doctors and pharmacists and hospitals to act against their consciences....

PS: Getting back to the original premise of this post, Catholic Answers has a useful refutation of our fundamentalist friends' "call no man father" misinterpretation here.

Music for the 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

I'm on my musical vacation at least through the end of this month, so the pastor's been "calling the tunes" for Mass. Here's what we had yesterday:

Entrance: "Baptized in Water"

(no Offertory or Communion music)

Postcommunion: Two short pieces here. First, the chorus of "O Sacrament Most Holy," repeated three times to the tune NON DIGNUS:

O Sacrament most holy,
O Sacrament divine,
All praise and all thanksgiving
Be every moment Thine.

This was followed by a Byzantine Communion chant (being biritual, our pastor has some affinity with Eastern Rites and holds them up as a model for congregational singing), again, repeated three times:

Receive the Body of Christ,
Taste the goodness of immortality,
Alleluia, alleluia.

Recessional: "Holy God, We Praise Thy Name"

As a Holocaust of Rams and Bullocks

Aristotle "The Recovering Choir Director" Esguerra strikes again with another "chant karaoke" video, this time Sicut in holocausto, the Offertory for the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, as sung at this year's Sacred Music Colloquium.

All You Nations, Clap Your Hands

Courtesy of Aristotle Esguerra of The Recovering Choir Director, via the MusicaSacra.com fora:

Happy Fourth of July!

A very happy (and safe) Independence Day to all from the Mojave Desert!

Liturgical Pet Peeve #1

Jack Wernette, my high school drama teacher, was a bit of a character (pun somewhat intended).

In addition to a quick wit combined with a deadpan comedic style, Mr Wernette was full of hints, tips, and advice—each nugget of which, regardless of what it actually was or whether he had brought the particular subject up before, was consistently referred to as "The First Rule of the Theater":

"Remember not to turn your back on the audience. First Rule of the Theater."

"Always cross upstage of another actor who's speaking. First Rule of the Theater."

"Be sure to show up at rehearsals on time. First Rule of the Theater."

In tribute to Jack Wernette's First Rules of the Theater, and so I don't have to keep track of what number I'm on, I offer you my series of Liturgical Pet Peeves #1. Today's LPP #1: The Movie Credit Mass.

This type of Mass appears most often in conjunction with sappy, narcissistic ditties and a regular appearance by someone whom, depending on circumstances, I like to refer to as "Touchdown Tillie" (think of the football official's signal) or "Lady Liberty" (use your imagination). A Movie Credit Mass goes something like this:


A layperson (often a reader) steps to the ambo just before Mass is scheduled to start and says "Good morning" into the microphone, which is attached to a much-too-loud sound system.

"Good morning," responds the congregation.

The layperson continues. "Welcome to St Looney-up-the-Cream-Bun-and-Jam Catholic Community. Today is the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Today's Mass is being offered for Suzie Kew and the Thompson twins. Our presider this morning is Monsignior Chuck, assisted by Deacon Howie. The readers are Elvira Gulch and Marvin Marshan. Our musicians today are Jimmy Heinrichs, David Hogan-Hoss, and Brittany Spires; Brittany will also cantor the Responsorial Psalm. The Eucharistic ministers [sic] are (long list of names follows). Our altar servers today are (names half the kids in the congregation). Please remember to turn off your cellphones. Have a nice day, and God bless."

You'd think that, if they're going to go to such lengths to include everyone and his grandma in this spiel, they'd at least put something like this on the front of the parish bulletin:

Saint Looney-up-the-Cream-Bun-and-Jam Parish

presents

a Holy Spirit production

based on a concept by God the Father

The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass

starring

Jesus Christ as Himself

...naah, that'd take away from recognizing the efforts of everyone who worked so hard on today's Mass.

At Least It Wasn't a "Barney" Mass

Some of us, no doubt, will have attended Masses that weren't quite in keeping with the General Instruction of the Roman Missal. My particular tale of woe may not, at first glance, approach the level of the LA Religious Education Congress or the infamous "Barney" Mass, but deep down, I think it's a wee bit more serious (and I'm sure I'll be corrected if I'm wrong).

I'm out of town for a family reunion. There's a particular church I want to go to where I'm staying, as it has two Extraordinary Form Masses scheduled on Sundays—a High Mass and a Low Mass. I check out the church's website and get the address, which I punch into my GPS (brought with me from home so I don't have to pay exorbitant fees to the car rental agency).

Sunday comes. GPS fired up and the route from my hotel to the church displayed, I set off.

And drive right by the church. Twice. It seems the church is out of sight, up a hill, in the middle of a cemetery. Since I had planned to attend the later of the two Masses, it's now too late to go to Mass here.

I drive toward the center of town and happen upon another church. I pull over and check out the marquee in front. Lucky me: I'm in time for the next Mass. I find a place to park and enter the church...

...to find the nave and sanctuary are abuzz with all sorts of activity. In the midst of the chaos, I spot an object on the altar that vaguely looks like a monstrance. From the fact that the monstrance is facing the nave, rather than side-0n, I have to presume that the Blessed Sacrament is exposed—confirmed later by watching a laywoman remove the lunette—so I kneel in adoration.

While Our Lord's in the monstrance, I notice a group of people lined up on the steps to the sanctuary to the Gospel side of the altar, led by another laywoman with a boom box. The people on the steps begin moving their hands, and I realize that they are deaf and are signing the lyrics to the Praise and Worship song being played on the boom box. A perusal of the parish bulletin reveals that this parish serves a large number of deaf congregants, and that the pastor is competent (if not fluent) in American Sign Language (ASL). The laywoman who reposed the Blessed Sacrament and the one leading the deaf choir are also ASL interpreters.

Mass begins, celebrated by the pastor, with the readings being read/signed by the laywomen. Father reads and signs the Gospel, although with clearly "dumbed-down" words. I think to myself that this may be a permissible adaptation, given the nature of the congregation at this Mass. Homily, Creed, Offertory, etc. go by without any noticeable problems.

Father comes to the Eucharistic Prayer, and now things start to get questionable, to say the least.

Laywoman 1 (the reposer) goes up and stands next to Father at the start of the Prayer as he says and signs it. At the Consecration, she—not Father—elevates the paten (at which Father garbles the words) and chalice after each of the Eucharistic elements is consecrated, while Father continues to speak and sign.

"Oh, great," I think. "I tried to get to a properly-said Mass—and an Extraordinary Form one, to boot—and now I'm stuck in one with a clearly invalid Consecration. I can't go up to receive, but, on the bright side, I've at least met my Sunday obligation." I stay for the remainder of Mass and leave quickly at the end.

Anyway, so far in my life as a Catholic, this was the worst Mass I'd ever been to; even the cheesy P & W Masses I've attended in a neighboring diocese come nowhere near this one. (God-awful music and Touchdown Tillie exhorting the, ahem, masses to sing vs. an invalid Consecration? Easy choice.)

Anyone else out there wanna get his/her experience(s) with dodgy liturgy off his/her chest? The lines are now open....