The Catholic Church has a wealth of wisdom and knowledge when it comes to prayer and the spiritual life. She possesses the greatest tradition of prayer in the history of the world and a track record that has produced countless saints, mystics, and everyday prayer warriors.  Yet, many people continue to be unaware of this spiritual gold mine.

Some individuals have a difficult time connecting with God in prayer.  Others find it difficult to keep a steady prayer life.  Still others possess a solid spirituality but seek to go deeper.  Later in this chapter, we will discuss how to pray along with the different prayer practices the Catholic Church offers.  However, in keeping with the theme of this book, it is first necessary to discuss the different polarizations and condemnations regarding prayer that stem from different groups within the Church.

Unfortunately, there are always people within the Church who believe that their method of worship is correct or superior.  On the one hand, there may be those who consider traditional prayer as the only acceptable form.  On the other hand, there are those who may posit that a charismatic style of prayer and worship is superior.  There are extremists who assert that if the Mass is not in Latin, then it is not a valid Mass. (Apparently, they know more than the pope and the Holy Spirit who guides the Church).  Others assert that those who do not speak in tongues or utilize the charismatic gifts, are not spiritual or Holy Spirit filled.

Clearly, these extremes, these polarizations are untrue, and the false judgments need to end.  It is important not to condemn what the Church herself does not condemn.  This is the sort of immature spirituality that must be left behind.  Unity and understanding must be cultivated instead.  Just because you personally don’t not like the Latin Mass (or Praise and Worship music), does not mean that they are wrong or false.  The truth is that neither traditional prayer, nor charismatic prayer, is wrong.  Both are Catholic!  Both are authentic expressions of worship, and both are approved by the Church.  Both have an ancient tradition.  Both have their strengths and weaknesses, and both are needed.  Moreover, both sides could learn something from the other, even if they still prefer their own style.

I'll be honest, upon first encountering the charismatic style of worship, I thought was akin to the “Twilight Zone.”  In my then ultra-humble opinion, it was all just plain odd –disrespectful, unhelpful, and probably fake.  I often stared at these people judgmentally trying my hardest to make them feel uncomfortable.  Moreover, why were they always so happy and joy filled anyway?  It was annoying!  Honestly, I did not understand this style of worship.  However, it would not be too long until God changed my mind.

It all started by going to the more charismatic evening Mass.  (The traditional Mass was too early in the morning for me).  At the beginning, I failed to understand this style of worship.  Before God changed my views, I griped about how everyone was fake or just trying to put on a show.  Apparently, I had an uncanny gift to read each and every person’s heart.  These were typically ignorant thoughts from someone who did not understand something outside his own narrow worldview.  Eventually, I would realize that the celebration of this Mass was very reverent.  The people loved God with all their hearts and gave everything they had to Him.

It all came to a head when the monthly campus-wide prayer meeting came around.  It was called a “Festival of Praise” (FOP), and it was overtly particularly charismatic in nature.  It consisted of singing to God and praising Him for 2½ hours.  Though I rejected numerous invitations to go, God spoke to my heart and asked me to give it a chance.  Reluctantly, I went, pouting like a spoiled child.  I made sure to arrive complete with a sour face and depressed demeanor.  

A key lesson God has taught me again and again in the spiritual life is that when I am open, (truly open and not merely open when I’m comfortable), my life will be changed.  Astonishingly, the FOPs visibly filled with the Holy Spirit, and they bore good fruit.  They were incredibly prayerful, reverent, vibrant, and powerful, and many times life changing.  To my surprise, most of my major spiritual breakthroughs and deep healings occurred at these FOPs.  

I should note too that some rather large healings and deep spiritual encounters with God also took place at Eucharistic Healing Masses, Eucharistic FOPS, and at Sunday Masses, all of which were extraordinarily powerful experiences.  Once I learned to truly open myself up to the Holy Spirit (something many Catholics have an extremely difficult time doing), then God could work in ways I didn’t consider possible.  Even though charismatic prayer and worship can have the tendency to rely too heavily on feelings, when done properly, it has an amazing ability to transform a person and open them wholly to God.

To make a long story short, God helped me to understand the different styles of worship.  He showed me that just because I was uncomfortable with one or another, it didn’t make them incorrect.  I learned that some people worship God with outstretched arms, and others on their face.  But, both praised His Majesty with all their being. When I allowed the Holy Spirit to work the way He wanted, and not the way I told Him He must, that is when God blew the doors off my heart and brought me to places I didn’t know possible.  I would never be the same.  

It has been 15 years since those days, and I still have a fire burning in my heart for the Lord Jesus.  Thanks be to God!  God taught me very important lessons about not putting the Him in a box and about opening myself up to His Spirit in different ways.  So, am I charismatic or traditional?  The answer is that I'm Catholic.  A Catholic who is both.  

Sometimes I pray lifting my hands high in the air to praise the God of the universe with all my being.  At other times, I sit or prostrate myself in front of His Majesty saying little or nothing – just aware of His awesome presence in and around me.  Sometimes I praise God through music and audible or inaudible praise.  At other times, my prayer is just to “Be still and know that I am God.”  

Normally, I attend a regular Mass at my home parish, but I used to attend a monthly traditional Latin Mass too.   My wife and I do Praise and Worship every Friday night with our Bible Study group, but we also pray the Rosary and the Divine Mercy Chaplet.  My wife sang for a Latin chant choir, and the priest who witnessed our wedding celebrates the Latin Mass perpetually.  

Needless to say, I have adequate exposure to many styles and forms of worship within our wonderful Church.  I see the power and beauty of it all.  In all of these cases, I seek to cultivate a deeper contemplative life, a deeper relationship with Love Himself.

Charismatic Protestant are able to join certain denominations.  More traditional Protestants must find other denominations.  Unlike Protestantism, the Catholic Church is not an either/or Church.  It's a both/and Church.  Thank God!  The great thing about the Catholic Church is that there are many different ways to pray and serve God.  There are Franciscans and Carthusians, Dominicans and Trapists, charismatic minded Catholics and traditionally minded Catholics.  None of these are wrong or false, just different.  Moreover, a person should not be judged as wrong or inferior because they pray differently than what you prefer.  Even if there are some abuses in the Church, in some areas more than others, gossiping, complaining, judging, labeling, and compartmentalizing are not helpful.  This is a sure sign of spiritual immaturity.  The Lord Jesus calls us to compassion, to love, and to humble evangelization.  

Over the years, I have learned the majesty and mystery of the traditional Mass and traditional forms of prayer, which can lead you to contemplation and a deep spiritual life.  I have also witnessed the power, joy, and self-donation of Praise and Worship, which when done correctly, can also lead to contemplation and a deep, loving relationship with God.

Some of the super traditional students at my old college ended up becoming charismatic by the end of their tenure, and some of the charismatic students become traditional in their worship and practice.  Most people switch sides, or more accurately, open themselves up to both.  They are rightly open to how the Holy Spirit desires them to pray.  They do not fight Him, close their hearts to Him, or say silly things like, “Oh, that’s just not me, I could never pray that way.”  

While the students at my alma mater might prefer to focus more on one or the other (traditional or charismatic), most of the students see the beauty in the other, and they possess a healthy respect for it, and that is how it should be!  People who limit the Holy Spirit stunt themselves.  We must seek to understand other styles of prayer in the Church and have a respect for them.  If we are against even trying a style of prayer that makes us uncomfortable, then we are not fully open to the Holy Spirit and must pray about that.

Catholic Prayer

Whole books have been written on the topic of how to pray and how to grow in the spiritual life.  Therefore, the main focus of this chapter will be to highlight the different styles of Catholic prayer.  

A deep prayer life is absolutely indispensable for each and every person, priest and lay person alike.  God is calling us all to the heights of holiness with no exceptions.  Prayer is the springboard that helps us arrive at that goal and our ultimate goal of union with God.  

At the simplest level, prayer is a relationship with God who desires more than anything to have a relationship with us.  Prayer is speaking to God and listening; it is setting our hearts on Him and thinking about Him, and it is seeking to do what pleases Him in everyday circumstances.  Saints like St. Teresa of Avila, St. Francis De Sales, St. John of the Cross, and others all teach us that there are distinct stages of prayer.  The path begins simply with heartfelt vocal prayer and then proceeds to deeper mental prayer and meditation.  Eventually, infused prayer and contemplation follow, which culminate in a transforming union with God. 

In his book, Jesus of Nazareth, Benedict XVI sums up what prayer is in a nutshell; “That is what prayer really is – being in silent inward communion with God. … Praying actualizes and deepens our communion with God. Our praying can and should arise above all from our heart, from our needs, our hopes, our joys, our sufferings, from our shame over sin, and from our gratitude for the good. It can and should be a wholly personal prayer.”  Let's explore what this all means practically.

Vocal Prayer (Discursive Prayer):

Drawing from the wisdom of the saints and prayer masters, here are just a few suggestions to help enter into vocal prayer and into deeper states of the spiritual life.  As Benedict XVI just correctly stated, one of the most important principles is to pray from our hearts, not just your heads.  A person cannot merely rattled off words routinely into the void or to a vague notion of God.  This is not true prayer and will not help advance you closer to our Lord.  Pope Benedict XVI states the same; “The other false form of prayer the Lord warns us against is the chatter, the verbiage, that smothers the spirit.  We are all familiar with the danger of reciting habitual formulas while our mind is somewhere else entirely.”  Ultimately, prayer should proceed from our love of God.  Prayer must done out of love, rather than because of fear, guilt, or mere routine.  It’s the difference between really desiring to spend time with your boyfriend/girlfriend or doing so merely out of obligation.

Vocal prayer is communication with God. However, before we even begin speaking to Him, it is imperative that we take time to quiet our inner-self and to place ourselves in the presence of God.  Take 30 seconds or so for this task – to focus on God’s presence within you or around you. Be still and be aware of His presence.  When we are aware of God and His presence there listening to us, we will pray with more focus.  Additionally, when we address God, we must speak to Him personally, as someone close, not far away.  The more personal one makes prayer, the more fruitful it will be.

Then, when finally addressing God, speak slowly and speak from the heart. We must focus on every word we are praying while continuing to focus on His presence.  Below are some examples of ways to pray using vocal prayer:  

Mental Prayer (Prayer of the heart):

Mental prayer, also known as quiet prayer or prayer of the heart, is indispensable for the spiritual life.  While vocal prayer is indispensable, mental prayer is far more important and efficacious.  As Catholics, it is essential for us to take time to quiet our hearts and our minds, to quiet ourselves from the business of our daily grind, and to just let ourselves be in the presence of God.  This silent prayer is where we find His Majesty, and where divine intimacy takes place.  
St. Theresa of Avila taught that virtue grows incomparably more in quiet prayer verses vocal.  In fact, every saint agrees unanimously that those who don’t meditate or take quiet time with God will remain spiritually stunted.  Some priests have even grown cold through their lack of prayer, especially mental prayer.  Not only do they suffer from it, but their parishes to do.  You can’t give what you don’t have.  St. Padre Pio states that the failure to meditate can be likened to a person who gets dressed every day and then never looks in a mirror. Therefore, they do not know if they is dirty or not.

Unfortunately, it is common to speak to God but not to listen, and this it is equally common to know of God but never really come to actually know Him.  There is a big difference between knowing about, and actually knowing.  It is imperative to unplug from our ipods, computers, phones, and other technology from time to time.  We need to daily cultivate some silence in our lives.  The more we can be at peace in the quiet, the more we will be disposed to meditate, to listen, and to be aware of the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit.  Below are some examples of ways we can pray using mental prayer:  

After vocal prayer, meditative prayer is the next form of prayer in the spiritual life.  All the great saints talk about the necessity of deep prayer and meditation.  In fact, they state that anyone serious about a prayer life should be praying for a minimum of an hour a day, progressing more and more in mental prayer.  

Meditation helps us to grow closer to God spiritually, to grow in virtue and in holiness. 

The Pocket Catholic Dictionary offers a good definition of meditation.  “Meditation: Reflective prayer.  It is that form of mental prayer in which the mind, in God’s presence, thinks about God and divine things. … The objects of meditation are mainly three; mysteries of faith, a person’s better knowledge of what God wants him or her to do, and the divine will, to know how God wants to be served by the one who is meditating.”

Meditation is where we take time to think about God and the mysteries of our faith.  We could ponder the life of Jesus, His death, or His resurrection.  We could also ponder our lives, what God desires from us, how we can follow Him more faithfully, what faults we need to work on and how we can do that.  We can also consider God’s surpassing greatness, His unconditional love for us, and how He demonstrates that love by dying on the cross for us.  We could also meditate on are our final days, our deathbed, heaven, hell, eternity, and much, much more.  In time, and with daily dedication, meditation will bear much fruit in our spiritual lives, leading to infused prayer, transformed lives, and union with God, which should be the goal for each and every one of us.

Pope John Paull II reminds us that, “Jesus urges us to ‘pray without becoming weary.’ Christians know that for them prayer is as essential as breathing … Prayer is not simply one occupation among many, but it is at the center of our life with Christ.”  This sums up our prayer journey in a nutshell; namely, that prayer should not be something we try to squeeze in our day, but it should be our very life, our breath, a large part of our being.  That is why St. Paul exhorts is us to, “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

Bibliography:

Hardon, John A, Pocket Catholic Dictionary, New York. DoubleDay, 1985.

Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth, New York. DoubleDay, 2007.

Pope John Paul II, Go in peace, Chicago, IL. Loyola Press, 2003.

Questions for Reflection:

• What are some of the polarizations in the Church that some Catholics fall into?

• Have you ever found yourself judging or condemning a style of worship, which the Church permits, that is different than yours?  If so, why?

• If you do not like the Latin Mass, would you be open to trying it? Or, at least, do you understand the beauty of that worship, and will seek to possess a deep respect for it?  Why or why not?

• If you would not normally use more expressive prayer, like putting your hands in the air or praising God openly, would you be open to it?  Or, would you at least be open to understanding the meaning of it all and gaining a healthy respect for it? Why or why not?

• Discuss the pride and self-righteousness that may come with wagging fingers at people who worship differently than you do?

• What styles of prayer do you use?  Would you be open to trying ones you are not familiar with?  Why or why not?

• Knowing that prayer is our life, what are the obstacles that you face (or will find yourself facing), and how can you overcome them?

Do you seek to foster a deep contemplative relationship with God, or is your prayer life more on the surface?  Explain.

• Do you read books on prayer to help you grow?

RESPONSES TO THIS CHAPTER: 

Response from David Tate:

In every society, there are social guidelines. I appreciated Mercier’s comment about people feeling their “method of worship is correct or superior”. I felt like there is something beneath the surface of criticism. Many times guidelines support specific themes. These themes might include bodily exposure, gender, social status, linguistic styles, respect for the community, or respect for the individual. One guideline that seems to have been a part of my culture was the idea of not drawing undue attention to yourself. In light of this, I feel I am quick to notice when people are making a spectacle of themselves. One interesting story I recall involves feet. I have seen my share of shod feet, sandaled feet, and bare feet. I do not find “naked” feet shameful, providing that they are following some communal custom. I recall seeing a person once (actually twice) who was not wearing anything on their feet. The circumstances at the time really made me feel like they were making a spectacle of themselves. In like manner, I feel my personal feelings about worship come from the same mold. If there is a style of prayer where people are raising their arms or speaking out loud, I am comfortable with that. What I don’t like is when people, ignoring social cues, practice a worship style that draws attention to themselves. It is possible that I am hitting a common experience with others, in this opinion. 

I strongly feel that styles of worship are guided by social ‘pressures’ and spiritual hungers. Perhaps because of our lack of a set family profile of religion, the Latin Mass was never anything to be criticized; especially since we didn’t have any practical connection with the Catholic Church (i.e. relatives, etc.) I, even though it is exactly opposite of my upbringing, have found it very easy to be in a Charismatic atmosphere when I was craving it. I think that when we allow too much to be controlled by our social surroundings, we are then in need to look at our spiritual lives for signs of stagnancy. There is the immature habit of criticizing others for being different. However, if we have not seen changes in our own spiritual condition, then maybe we need to look more closely at other people’s differences. There are multiple styles of prayer and worship, each one having its specific benefits. 

I have for a long time desired to teach “Forms of Prayer”. I remember seeing a program on TV that discussed a style of therapy for certain mental disorders. What they did was to physically act out the most fundamental movements that we progress through from the time of our birth. Things as simple as lying on our back, waving our arms and legs in the air, practicing making ‘baby style’ noises. These actions were followed by the motions of sitting on the floor with your legs out, crawling on all fours, etc. I have believed that styles of prayer follow a similar training. Actions that our bodies don’t know how to perform cannot be called upon by our mind. There is probably a bunch of psychological explanation to this thinking, but I still prefer a simplistic understanding.

I think that we underestimate the power of the common vices when it comes to “problems”. We love to rationalize away our judgments of others, but it still doesn’t say why we are lacking in our obligation to love others, and to see Christ in them. Just like a parent sees their infant as a baby. We, too, should see others as moving through chapters of growth. It is quite easy to be guilty of vices like envy or coveting or jealousy when we are running down others. Don’t we go through life having the proverbial three fingers pointing back at us when we are pointing at others? 

In brief, I grew up hearing on rare occasion people praying and speaking to God as if He was right there with us. Most of these times, it was during times of thanksgiving. When I was in high school, I went to many positive ‘study-style’ Bible studies. During my college days, I experienced quite a few Charismatic services. I have had experiences that could not have been labeled by any other terms than to say they were directly caused by the presence of the Holy Spirit. Being now a seminarian, I find that my life experiences give me a much closer ‘feather-touch’ regarding the wisdom for things that are individual versus things that are communal. Sometimes I have daydreamed that if I had already a family-given style of prayer, would I have had to go through a time of rebellion like those that were given “religion” as a kid? 

I view my desires and my obstacles to be closely related. I have been learning more and more about the contemplative history of the Church over the last fifteen years. I see that the act of choosing how we spend the day, or even the next hour, has a lot to do with developing our habits. Am I developing my habits of work more than prayer? Individual concerns more than communal? Personal gratification over self-denial? Even the act of deciding about the morning cup of coffee involved great personal issues. I once read that God inhabits not only the praises of His people, but the prayers of His people as well. I whole heartedly agree with Mercier saying “Meditation helps us to grow closer to God”. How often do I really allow others to make decisions for me? I hope to grow in a truer meaning of contemplation that includes my own personal characteristics. Finding out the meaning of contemplation and what my personal characteristics are – this is the life-long challenge.   

Response from Tommie Kim:

It is not until very recently that the Holy Spirit Seminar has been introduced to Korea.  I was a university student when I first learned about Holy Spirit Seminar events. My first experience of such charismatic prayer was simply shocking.   I grew up with devout Catholic parents. I served as altar boy, and  that led me to be accustomed to solemn and quiet Masses.  My first perception of the seminar reminded me of some kind of Protestant activity or act of secularization.  In simple terms, it was a religious shock for me. 

As the week passed by, I started looking at the event from a different perspective.  God is with us at all times. Likewise, God works in each and every one of us in a very different way.  However, I had limited understanding of faith at that time, sort of trapped in my own world so I was not able to accept and perceive the fact that the Holy Spirit could work in such a different way. Since then, friends and people around me recommended that I to join the seminar. Although unwilling and reluctant, I do admit witnessing special experiences through others.  I witnessed a man screaming out of horror against dark forces surrounding him. He ran to grab the priest for help. After receiving sacrament of reconciliation after a life-long distance from that sacrament, he was freed from darkness. I was amazed to see the change that could take place in a man. I perceived the experience as the grace of God.  Such gift of the Holy Spirit not only helps one but all who surround and share the experience. 

In Korea especially in the many cities, all parishes have charismatic prayer groups who offers charismatic Masses and/or overnight prayers.  Sometimes, it requires consistent care and guidance of the priests and sisters of parish in order for the group to grow stronger in faith. However, some other times, it requires a little more freedom and independence of the group to sustain and grow by itself, instead of excessive interference from priests and sisters.  As a worst example, sometimes speakers at the seminar face censor from priests in the form of asking them to provide the speaker’s talk prior to the speech.

The Catholic church in Korea is truly and exceedingly centered on priests and religious. So, it is crucially important that they show a good exemplary model of prayer life. However, priests rarely pray in these days so it becomes difficult to teach proper prayer life to the lay believers. Simply put, externally, we see church growing in numbers and external social activity seems very active. However, there are not enough priests who can lead them to a deeper prayer life.  Moreover, we are seeing priests who enjoy  life even more than the lay believers, some of them even leading the parish into conflicts and division. Priests with radical leftist ideology add to this disappointment that is leading the believers to leave the church. 

Response from Sean Hurt: (Note from Dr. Ronda: At first this response seems too general, and not so related to the chapter, but it really is since it provides a metaphor for all our ways of judging, including judging the way others pray.) 

Unfortunately, there are always people within the Church who believe that their method of worship is correct or superior…

I’m embarrassed to say this now, looking back, that I entered Peace Corps with the quintessential Peace Corps fantasy. The fantasy goes something like this: I’m going to come to this developing country full of humble people. They will see my modern farming techniques and be amazed. Being rational people, motivated by material interest, they will immediately change their life-long habits and conform to modern, developed ways. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the scripture that says, “No one who has been drinking old-wine desires the new, for he says, ‘The old is good.’” 

Now, that’s a fantasy. What really happens when you get your boots on the ground? You show these humble people your “developed-world” techniques and receptions range from apathy, amusement, concern (for my mental health) to outright anger! In fact, I’ll tell you what happens. They start thinking it’s I who needs help! They don’t like the way I hang my laundry or how I scramble my eggs! They think, “this fool, he doesn’t know how to do anything right!” After this happens a hundred times, you start to get very frustrated. You think, “These people! They are such closed-minded, sticks-in-the-mud. They don’t try anything new, even though it’s better. It’s their own fault they’re so backwards.  They think they’re right about everything—even down to the minutest detail.”

A lot of people leave Peace Corps with that attitude, and then they return home and realize that their attitudes about Americans have changed. “Americans are so private and unfriendly! They spend so much money on stupid stuff! All they value is work and money!” Just as I judged the Malawians harshly, I started treating American in the same way. Malawi left an indelible mark on my values and beliefs, and when Americans did not see the light I chastised them, “Americans are so closed-minded. They’re stuck in their way; they can’t change etc.” It’s so easy to think that your way is the one right and holy way.

There are lots of lessons to be learned from this example. I hope you can see that our fallen nature tends to inflate the importance of minor details in our own culture. In Malawi, they had ideas about the right way to crack an egg. If you didn’t do it that way, you were just wrong. If you think Americans don’t do this—think again; we’re just as bad.  Now, I’m not advocating some kind of cultural relativism, not at all. Some practices are unacceptable, and battles need to be fought. However, hair-splitting is divisive; it harms human solidarity, and among Christians it destroys unity. 

Consider another lesson. In Malawi, obviously, I was an outsider. As a pariah, I felt vulnerable and weak. That, in turn, led me to defensive thoughts which led to judgment that ended in hate. So, when we’re in the midst—surrounded by another culture, we have to be on guard. Not guarded from the strangers, but from our own proclivity towards rash judgment. 

I think recognizing that we’re in another culture is harder than we think. As I mentioned before, I go to two different parishes. One is more traditional, another contemporary. Honestly, I often feel uncomfortable at the traditional parish. The parishioners are more conservative. They dress a certain way, and look a certain way. They have their own culture and I stick out with my long hair and shaggy beard. But if there’s going to be Catholic unity it will take communication and interaction across divisions. This means putting yourself in situations in which you feel vulnerable, uncomfortable and, often times, judged. Likewise, it means we must take special care to make strangers feel welcome in our Christian community—no matter how strange they seem.  

Response of Fr. Dominic: (Note from Dr. Ronda: Fr. Dominic is the author of the chapter in this book The Priest in Community and taught the first class based on this book with me in Spring of 2014.  During the class, when Bryan Mercier came to dialogue with us, Fr. Dominic took exception to Mercier’s rejection of centering prayer. It became clear that the kind of centering prayer Fr. Dominic teaches, based on early versions of this prayer, was different from the type of centering prayer now often being taught which is critiqued by Mercier. I asked Fr. Dominic to describe to us how he teaches it.)

Concerning Christian centering prayer it is based on focusing on God by consciously disconnecting from other thoughts.  You close your eyes to the surrounding distractions and stop the interior dialogue, the emotions that come with the people you know, and sensory experiences.  Nothing is worth thinking about at this time of centering prayer, not even the thought about yourself.  This is because  How you are “now” is the way you are going to be in the future. The way you see anything is the way you see everything. The way you do anything is the way you do everything.

In doing centering prayer, you simply need to be in the presence of God, not being loaded  down with the past.  There are many biblical images for centering prayer:  Sabbath rest is where you are to get out of the achieving mode, or thinking about who likes you or who doesn’t. Rest is above time. It is eternity in the present moment.  It is being in the inner room of Matthew 6.6, where I am forgiven of all and in all. 

(During the class a question was asked as to whether this means that Catholic centering prayer substitutes the feeling of being forgiven for sacramental confession.  Fr. Dominic explained that it is a good preparation for the sacramental confession. Centering prayer helps to guide against having the sacramental confession as mere ritual, that is, frequenting the sacrament of confession without sincere repentance for ones sins and thereby “being caved into oneself” which is the real meaning of sin as St. Augustine defined it.  With the aid of centering prayer, the penitent after the sacramental confession will have no doubt that God,  who is eternity in the now, has forgiven and forgotten ones sins and therefore, there will be no need of  bemoaning and rehearsing the sins over and over again. Centering prayer helps in evacuating the emotional junk of a life time.)

The passive dimension of centering prayer is where one collapses in the presence of God to be refreshed. It is allowing God  to be in charge and not you.  This is the real meaning of the primacy of grace in the Christian spirituality.  Therefore, the active dimension of centering prayer is cooperating with this grace. 

The great Catholic tradition speaks of the four basic forms of prayer; adoration, petition, intercessory and contemplation.  Centering prayer is closely connected to adoration. When we adore, we open the little ego to the mystery of God. We acknowledge the godliness of god and that our life is not about us. etymologically, adoration is from the Latin words “ad” and “ora” -  meaning to the mouth of.  To adore is to be turned with your whole life towards God so that you are mouth to mouth-face to face with God. Hence, we breathe in the divine grace. God’s glory is not intensified by our adoration rather we become rightly ordered by our adoration, it is ordering our disordered soul. This is what centering prayer does. It shifts our attention from our little ego to god who is eternally in the now.

For nearly 2,000 years, until the Second Vatican Council, the Church had predominantly worshiped her Lord and Savior at altars oriented to the East because she believed that it was from this direction that He would return in glory. The historical liturgy of Christendom had always been cosmic, and for them this was the direction of heaven. Thus, by facing East Christians—both priest and layman alike—were able to participate in the mystical liturgy of heaven.

What few people within the Church seem to have considered, however, were the cultural, psychological, and theological implications of such a change in the orientation of worship. Within the context of ritual, the arrangement of church architecture is often very fragile and even relatively minor changes can dramatically change the symbolic messages that a church and its liturgy communicates to its members. 

The orientation to the East--ad orientem—held a profoundly mystical significance for early Christians, but it also had roots deep in their Jewish traditions. As a fulfillment of the Old Covenant, the Christian liturgy and the spaces it used for worship were, therefore, a natural outgrowth of ancient Jewish practices.

Because the first Christians were Jews, the eastward orientation of prayer was a concept that was not at all foreign to their tradition, for they believed that Eden was located to the East. The rising sun was another image which conveyed the significance of this orientation: “the sun, which comes forth like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,” “the sun of righteousness shall rise,” and “his face was like the sun shining in full strength,” from the Old Testament, as well as similar passages in the New Testament referring directly to Christ: “his face shone like the sun.”

All of ancient Jewish worship centered in the Temple of Jerusalem, for the Holy of Holies located within it, was the site of God’s presence among men. In fact, even if they lived far from the Holy City, all Jews looked to the Temple as the primary focus of their worship. By building their synagogues so that the apse faced Jerusalem the rabbi and the people would always face the Holy of Holies during prayer.

However, although the first Christians were Jews, the focus of their worship shifted from the presence of the Unseen God in the Holy of Holies to the anticipated Second Coming of the Incarnate Christ, which was represented by the East. We can see how this affected the orientation of their prayer in the most ancient type of Christian church found in Syria. While they were, in a sense, Christianized synagogues, they faced the geographic east rather than Jerusalem. 

The early Christians adopted this practice of praying toward the East for a very profound reason. They oriented their worship in this direction because they believed that Christ ascended into heaven toward the East and that He would return again in His Second Coming from that same direction. Thus, by turning in prayer toward the rising sun, which symbolized Christ, they directed their worship not to the earthly Eden as the Jews had done earlier, but to the new Paradise in Heaven.

What the vision of Ezekiel dimly foreshadowed—“the glory of the God of Israel came from the east” at the gate facing east and “entered the Temple by the gate facing eastern,” the Revelations of John illustrated in a more clearly eschatological sense—“then I saw an another angel ascend from the rising of the sun, with the seal of the living God” and “as the lightening comes from the east so will be the coming of the Son of man.”

According to Cardinal Ratzinger, the East has always been “cosmic”—“The liturgy, turned toward the east, effects entry, so to speak, into the procession of history toward the future, the New Heaven and the New Earth, which we encounter in Christ.” In this ancient custom of facing East the church building itself was, so to speak, a ship (“nave” = navis, Latin for “ship”) that voyages to the East.

The Early Church regarded prayer facing the East as an apostolic tradition that was an essential characteristic of the Christian liturgy. Its earliest mention in Christian literature comes from the second book of the Apostolic Constitutions written in the third century, which states that a church should be build “with its head to the East”. Tertullian wrote of churches erected “facing the light”. Origen claimed that we ought to pray in the direction of the rising sun because it is an act, which symbolizes the soul’s gaze toward the rising of the true Light, Jesus Christ. St. John Damascene wrote that while we wait for the coming of the Lord “we adore Him facing East” because it is a tradition that was passed down to us by the Apostles. The writings of other Church Fathers, such as Clement of Alexandria, and St. Basil, confirm this practice, and one of the greatest of them, St. Augustine, wrote “When we rise to pray, we turn East, where heaven begins.”

The eastern orientation of prayer, therefore, was the universal norm in the Church from the earliest years of Christianity. The altar, which generally stood in an apse at the eastern wall of the church, was the focus for the entire assembly. Both priest and laity looked toward the East in unity as if in procession because it was the gateway to heaven, their destiny. The altar was “the place where heaven is opened up” leading the church “into the eternal liturgy.” And it was because of the powerful symbolism embodied in this communal act, that neither the eastern nor the western Church had a tradition of versus populum. In fact, the term versus populum itself was unknown in Christian antiquity, for it was a concept foreign to their understanding of the Holy Sacrifice.

The Christian basilicas of Rome (e.g., St. Peter’s Basilica on the Vatican Hill) and northern Africa that came into use about the time of the Emperor Constantine were the only notable exceptions to the eastern orientation of Christian worship. In contrast to the churches in other parts of Christendom, as well as to many in Rome itself, they had the uncharacteristic practice of constructing the building with the façade, instead of the apse, facing east. Along the back wall of the apse were the bishop’s chair and seats for other clergy. The altar, which stood over the tomb of some important martyr, stood between the bishop (or priest) and the people. He stood behind the altar facing the doors of the church, which opened to the East, celebrating the Eucharistic Sacrifice in the universal Christian orientation. Likewise, the people gazed not toward the priest, but rather eastward with him. Although the priest technically stood versus populum, the intent was to face East rather than to the assembly.

This practice, however, was confined only to the immediate vicinity of Rome and parts of northern Africa, whereas in the remaining regions of Christendom the priest and assembly continued the ancient tradition of facing together toward the East. Even in the churches of Byzantium which trace their development from the Roman basilica, the altar stood in the apse allowing the priest to celebrate Mass from the same side of the altar as the people themselves so as to face East together.

The placement of the priest behind the altar facing the assembly was supposed to better emphasize the communal character of the Mass as a meal and increase the people’s active participation by reflecting the manner in which Christ himself celebrated the first Mass on Holy Thursday. But this rationale also lacked historical foundation because the presider at a banquet in ancient times never sat at the table facing his guests.

Despite the erroneous assumptions underlying the versus populum orientation of the altar, the vast majority of Catholics today see it as the predominant fruit of the Second Vatican Council. However, what Catholics received were actually “dubious reconstructions of the most ancient practice, fluctuating criteria, and never-ending suggestions for reform.” And even if there had been legitimate historical justification, this would have represented little more than a “false antiquarianism”—something against which Pope Pius XII explicitly warned.

In the decade following the Second Vatican Council, many in the Church have come to the realization that the post-conciliar reform of the liturgy has not produced the effects that the Council intended and has actually been plagued with numerous problems. In recent years, there is a growing realization that perhaps one of the most significant elements in the revitalization of the Catholic liturgy could be something as simple as the re-orientation of the priest once again ad orientem when he celebrates the Holy Sacrifice. The growing sentiment, even among such prominent Church figures as Cardinal Ratzinger, is that we need to recapture the profound cosmic dimension that is essential for the Christian liturgy, and that this can best be expressed by a return to the ancient and universal Christian practice of orienting worship to the East.

A strong case can be made for a return to ad orientem on purely historical grounds, but some might say that this is merely another type of “false antiquarianism”. However, when one also considers the theological, as well as cultural, sociological and psychological factors that both influence and are influenced by the highly symbolic nature of orientation at a ritual, the issue takes on a much greater importance.

We have seen how culturalism invades the liturgy, which makes use of it to legitimate and sanction certain values of our present culture, by often co-opting the liturgy in such a way that its original meaning is muted or lost. Architecture, of which the altar is an integral part, is a symbolic language in itself and ritual, which in turn is an outward expression of interior belief, then places an additional layer of symbolism over the physical components of the architecture. When one manipulates both of them the significance of the symbolism and even the very substance of belief changes. That is primarily why Cardinal Ratzinger has expressed the view that the symbolism of the priest as the one who offers the Holy Sacrifice in persona Christi on behalf of the people “is more clear and effective when the priest faces ‘liturgical east’—the altar of sacrifice—with the people.”

There are also strong cultural and psychological reasons justifying a return to the East. Because “the spiritual disease of modernity is the worship of ego,” the reorientation of the altar has resulted in a shift of focus in the minds of many Catholics from sacrificial worship to communal celebration. One of the greatest authorities on the Roman Rite of the Mass, Rev. Joseph A. Jungmann, SJ, seems to have foreseen this in his book The Mass of the Roman Rite, which he published long before anyone even thought of a Second Vatican Council. He wrote that versus populum would be a preferred orientation if the Mass was seen only (my emphasis) as a service of instruction or a Communion celebration but ad orientem would be the most appropriate orientation if it was seen as an immolation and homage to God.

When the priest stands behind the altar he is no longer united with the people. Instead, he forms a self-enclosed circle with the people, which is focused more and more on its own communal ego. By turning in upon itself the assembly manifests those tendencies in man’s fallen nature so prevalent today that continually strive to place himself at the center of all things. In contrast, “where priest and people together face the same way, what we have is a cosmic orientation… in which every Mass is an approach to the return of Christ.”

Some of the most subtle but yet most detrimental effects of the versus populum orientation are the psychological and sociological consequences of this arrangement for both the priest and people. When the priest faced ad orientem, he was, in a sense, an anonymous mediator between God and man. Such an arrangement intrinsically hindered the priest from calling attention to himself. But, when turned versus populum, he became a distinct person with a distinct personality and the sanctuary became a stage, in which the altar turns him into an actor playing a role in the re-enactment of the Last Supper. Instead of creating a greater unity with the assembly, this has led to a clericalization where the priest stands separate from the people rather than with them. He is the new point of reference because everything depends on him. Consequently, the actions of mere humans becomes more important than the mystical action of Christ on the altar by means of the priest. The altar is no longer really the focus because it has become only a prop for the actions of the priest. What has happened is that we have forgotten that, “the church exists for the altar, rather than the altar for the church.”

If we speak about the essential character of the Mass, there is no question of its validity with either orientation. There is also no question that it is possible to celebrate the Mass versus populum as reverently and beautifully as the Fathers of Vatican II surely envisioned it—there are many places around the world where this is taking place free of liturgical aberrations. But if we delve into the deeper significance of the symbolism behind each, versus populum does not convey the same message as ad orientem.

The cultural, sociological, psychological, and even theological problems that so easily arise when the Mass is celebrated versus populum ultimately stem from the philosophical currents inherent in the modern psyche that are fundamentally at odds with the Catholic understanding of reality. Interestingly, these very same philosophical currents are also the root cause of our present crisis in morality and ethics.

Should the Church return to its theologically correct and historically universal orientation, to the East, in its celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass? The answer more and more convincingly seems to be “yes.” However, rather than the historical justifications so often expounded, the most compelling arguments can be found in the cultural and psychological significance that such a move would entail. In her book, The Desolate City, Anne Roche Muggeridge suggests that “the single most important liturgical ‘external symbol’ at the Mass is the position of the priest.”

Will it be difficult? Yes. Overcoming the ingrained cultural mindset that prevails among many (perhaps most) Catholics for our present Mass celebrated versus populum will be difficult. The most formidable task will be the total reeducation of the faithful about the profound meaning that the East should carry in the mind of Catholics, as well as about the very character of the Mass itself. However, if we are to truly renew the liturgy we must affirm by our very bodies that God, not man, is the object of our worship. The Christian liturgy is always a cosmic liturgy and when we forget this connection, it loses not only it significance but also its grandeur. We must, above all, strive for a profound restoration of the sacred in our physical enactment of the liturgy, where the Mass is not just a meal and a communal gathering, but rather the point at which heaven opens up so that we here on earth can share in the divine liturgy of heaven. And if this is best achieved by a return to the East, that is what we must do.

 Sacrosanctum Concilium, 1.

 Ibid.

 The only directive in the Council documents which addressed the position and use of the altar merely stated that “the main altar should be freestanding, away from any wall, so that the priest can walk all around it and can celebrate facing the people.”(General Instruction on the Roman Missal, 262.) Elsewhere in the documents the Council Fathers issued an almost prophetic statement that “Nobody, therefore, is allowed to proceed on his own initiative in this domain [i.e., the sacred liturgy], for this would be to the detriment of the liturgy itself, more often than not,”( Inter Oecumenici, 20.) However, as they so often did, modernists within the Church disregarded such admonitions, and often interpreted Vatican II documents to suit their own needs.

 Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal, The Spirit of the Liturgy (Ignatius Press: San Francisco, 2000), 34.

 McNamara, Denis, “Church architecture and decorum,” Homiletic and Pastoral Review, 48/7 (April 1998), 10.

 Gamber, Monsignor Klaus, The Reform of the Roman Liturgy: Its Problems and Background (Una Voce Press: San Juan Capistrano, California and The Foundation for Catholic Reform: Harrison, New York, 1993), 81. Kocik, Fr. Thomas M., “[Re]Turn to the East?,” Adoremus, 5/8 (November 1999), 5.

 Psalm 19(18): 4-6

 Malachi 4:2

 Revelation 1:16

 Matthew 17:2

 Bouyer, Louis, Liturgy and Architecture (University of Notre Dame Press: Notre Dame, Indiana, 1967), 11-15.

 These early Syrian churches are known not only from archeological excavations, but also from traditions still maintained in Syrian Catholic and Nestorian churches. (Bouyer, Liturgy, 24.)

 Ibid, 24, 27.

 Gamber, The Reform, 81. Ratzinger, The Spirit, 68. Bouyer, Liturgy, 28.

 Ezekiel 43:1-2

 Ezekiel 43:4

 Ratzinger, The Spirit, 69. Kocik, “[Re]Turn,” 5.

 Revelation 7:2

 Matthew 24:27

 Ratzinger, The Spirit, 69.

 Jungmann, Joseph A., S.J. The Mass of the Roman Rite, translated by Francis A. Brunner, C.SS.R. (Benziger Bro., Inc.: New York 1949), 180.

 Ibid.

 Hassett, Maurice M., “History of the Christian Altar,” Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. I (Robert Appleton Company, 1907), p. 6 from the Online Edition, 1999.

 Ibid.

 Kocik, “[Re]Turn,” 5.

 Augustine, De sermone domini in monte II.18, PL 34:1277, from Gamber, The Reform, 80.

 Bouyer, Liturgy, 55.

 Ratzinger, The Spirit, 70-71.

 Bouyer, Liturgy, 54. Gamber, The Reform, 77.

 In northern Africa, this was closely tied to previous pagan practices of facing temple facades toward the east, which were incorporated into the construction of Christian churches. Kocik, “[Re]Turn,” 5. (from Jungmann and Bouyer)

 Ibid

 Jungmann, The Mass, 181.

 Ibid. Bouyer, Liturgy, 62.

 Bouyer, Liturgy, 82.

 The ability to see everything that was happening at the altar has often been used as a rationale for the Second Vatican Council’s call for greater participation of the faithful in the Mass. Based on the flawed historical argument used to justify the versus populum orientation, it has often been assumed that Christians in the Early Church always participated visually in what the priest did at the altar. This too was not the case, for even in the early centuries of the Church a veil was usually drawn to conceal the entire sanctuary from view during the Canon of the Mass. In Roman basilicas the canopy surmounting the altar was probably a support for curtains that were drawn around the altar during the time of the Canon. Lucas, Herbert., “Ecclesiastical Architecture,” Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. V (Robert Appleton Company, 1907, Online Edition, 1999). Also, the practice of looking at the Eucharistic elements was unknown to Christian antiquity and even if the people could see what the priest was doing, there was not that much to see because the more ritualistic gestures did not come into use until the Middle Ages. “More generally, the concentration on seeing what the officiants do, far from having ever accompanied a real participation of all in the liturgy, has appeared as a compensation for the lack of this participation, and is psychologically more or less exclusive of it.” Bouyer, Liturgy, 57-58.

 Rather, it was customary in the time of Christ for everyone to recline on the same side of the table. It was precisely the fact that he sat with them instead of opposite them that gave the meal its communal character. Ibid, 53-54.

 Ratzinger, The Spirit, 82.

 Kwasniewski, Peter A., “Traditional liturgy as a liberation from egoism,” Homiletic and Pastoral Review, 49/4 (January 1999), 23.

 McNamara, “Church,” 10.

 Ritual can also be the means by which one evokes that belief. Kwasniewski, “Traditional,” 26.

 Hitchcock, “Bishop’s,” 3.

 Ibid, 21.

 Jungmann, The Mass, 182.

 Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal, The Feast of Faith (Ignatius Press: San Francisco, 1986), 140-41.

 Gamber, The Reform, 85-88.

 These same dynamics have been contributing factors in feminist criticism of the “power” and “authority” held by the supposedly oppressive male-dominated Catholic clergy, which consequently plays a large role in the psychology of those demanding women’s ordination.

 Interestingly, the Roman version of the GIRM warns against the appearance of a throne for the celebrant’s chair. The American version does not. Also, in the Roman version, the first item treated is the altar, whereas in the American version, it is the celebrant’s chair. Dimock, Giles R., O.P., “Will Beauty Look After Herself?” Sacred Music (Fall 1990), taken from The Catholic Liturgical Library website.

 Ratzinger, The Spirit, 80.

 Webb, Geoffrey, The Liturgical Altar (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1949), 18.

 Kocik, “[Re]Turn,” 5.

 Ibid, 70.

Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Sharing:

1.  What is the mystical significance of prayer facing east for Christians?

2. When offering Mass ad orientem why is the priest not standing “with his back to the people?”


Response from Tommie Kim, Post Masters’ Korean Student:

Some years ago, I was on a pilgrim trip to Italy specifically to visit the sanctuaries of Saint Padre Pio and Saint Benedict. When we arrived in San Giovanni Rotondo, we were able to attend the Mass facing East. For Koreans, the Mass facing East was very unfamiliar in the beginning. However, as the Mass progressed and we were reminded of the fact that, at one time, Saint Pio was always there throughout his entire life assisting mass facing East, I was  brought to a deeper sense of mystery of Mass.  The priest, after the Mass, also explained that he experienced the holiness of the Mass in an extraordinary way and was able to concentrate on mystery of  the Mass without distraction. The priest said he felt in union with the people and realized the meaning of the tree, vine and the branches.  Not just we pilgrims but people from all over the world attended the Mass.. I remember them mentioning that although the Mass was assisted in Korean, they felt it as an hour of sharing unity and peace in God. 

Response from Kathleen Brouillette, Student at Holy Apostles:

We have not been taught the significance of the priest leading us to greet Christ upon His return, coming from the East.  How can we care about the Mass being celebrated ad orientem in this culture that glorifies self unless we are taught why it was celebrated that way in the first place? Failure to help people understand what we do as Church and why we do it made it all the easier for man to focus on himself rather than God.  We have seen the focus taken from God, not only in the orientation of the Mass, but also in language, architecture, music, and art.  It isn’t about worshiping, glorifying and thanking God, it is about man expressing himself.  What have all these changes done for our faith and worship? 

The Early Church regarded prayer facing the East as an apostolic tradition that was an essential characteristic of the Christain liturgy.   The 2nd book of Apostolic Constitution written in the 3rd century mentions that church should be build “with its head to the East.” So the eastern orientation of prayer was the universal norm and belief of the Early Church.  From the earliest years of Christianity, Christians believed that it is from East that the direction of heaven that her Lord and Savior would return in glory because it is the gateway to heaven and their destiny. Also the historical liturgy of Christendom of the Early Church has always been cosmic.  So for the Christian, God is the object of our worship and by facing, both priest and layman were able to worship her Lord and share the mystical liturgy of heaven together.  Christian liturgy is always a cosmic liturgy so facing East for Christians is not just a meal and a communal gathering but it is the hour when heaven opens up so that we who are on earth can share the divine liturgy of heaven.

When offering Mass ad orientem, priest is not standing with his back to the people but actually priest and people are facing the same way towards East so that priest and people can worship God together.  The priest is standing in front of people to offer the Holy Sacrifice in persona Christi on behalf of the people.  According to Cardinal Ratzinger, ad orientem is more clear and effective when the priest faces ‘liturgical east’ – the altar of sacrifice – with the people.”

RESPONSES TO THIS CHAPTER:

Response of Sean Hurt:

“The rising sun was another image which conveyed the significance of this orientation…”

The symbolism of facing east contains a deep meaning for humankind. Interest in the direction of East is not unique to Christianity. It’s a common element in world mythology. This illustrates the symbol’s potency to the mind. The sun is the physical source of light and life. It’s swallowed by the West and miraculously reborn to the East. You can see the parallels with our Savior. He is the spiritual source of our light and life. He’s invisible now like a nighttime-sun. We face the east, waiting for the second coming of the sun to end the spell of night.  

In this ancient custom of facing East the church building itself was, so to speak, a ship (“nave” = navis, Latin for “ship”) that voyages to the East.

The symbolism of the church as a ship is interesting. Certainly, a ship calls to mind Noah’s ark. We can easily point out parallels. The ark preserved God’s chosen people for a new creation. It saved them as the church saves us. However, this is not a perfect type. Noah’s ark drifted sort of aimlessly. As the author mentions, we imagine our church journeying to the east to meet our Lord. We have an object—and end, versus Noah’s passive salvation.

We have seen how culturalism invades the liturgy, which makes use of it to legitimate and sanction certain values of our present culture…” 

On a light-hearted note, I wonder if sometimes we don’t add –ism to the ends of words in order to set hearts against them. I mean, we could have replaced “culturalism” with a more familiar term: enculturation. Anyway, I want to add a nuance to the author’s discussion here. The relationship between culture and liturgy is complex. As the Catechism says, there are certain immutable aspects of the liturgy that cannot be changed and certain ones that can. In every age and in every place we protect the Light of Christ from the ephemeral values of our society. At the same time, Christian faith should not abolish the culture of the newly evangelized. In some instances, it’s necessary to change the accidentals of liturgy to jive with culture. I mean, in Malawi, they couldn’t comprehend divine celebration without dance. I just want to balance out the author’s warnings about culture influencing liturgy. 

However, in the particular issue, I agree with the author’s concerns. As I commented before, Jesus placed great importance on symbolic thought. This is evident in his discussion with Nicodemus. When Nicodemus asks Jesus for a rational explanation of rebirth, he responds with “Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and spirit.” Jesus tries to break this teacher of Israel out of the stale confines of materialistic thought. We should pause here for a moment and reflect on modern Western education. Do our schools emphasize symbolism as much as Jesus did? 

I know perfectly intelligent, well-educated people say, “Oh, I don’t get poetry. Why don’t they just say what they want to say?” Now, we should be sort of shocked by this. In fact, we should be floored to hear such an opinion. For tens of thousands of years all of humanity has echoed a common symbolic language. The rising sun, the tree of life, the leviathan, the serpent, these were known on every land in every epoch. What happened to our society that huge swaths of educated people don’t value these things anymore?

Christians need to think symbolically; our salvation depends on it. We cannot rationally comprehend Revelation. Imagine the gospel, liturgy, prayer and sacred art without symbolism. They would be incoherent and the Mysteries would be nonsense. Symbols are the language of the soul, and it’s the soul that thirsts for Jesus.

We confront problems in the church, inevitably, with a certain bias in the way we think. There is a great danger here because the Western academic tradition does not value symbolic truth as it should. I think we must be careful removing symbols (such as facing East) from any aspect of the faith. We can’t rationally understand their full-meaning because they inform our consciousness in a hidden way.

Architecture, of which the altar is an integral part, is a symbolic language in itself and ritual, which in turn is an outward expression of interior belief…

As I mentioned before, I go to two different parishes. One is more contemporary, another more traditional. Just as the author states, I see the architecture of the altar expressed in liturgy celebration and the beliefs of the parishioners. At the more traditional parish, the massive altar sits center stage. The lectern, on the other hand, they situated off to the side. As I mentioned before, parishioners at this traditional parish bow and supplicate when the priest consecrates the host. The liturgy climaxes in the Eucharist. I noticed too that priests there unwaveringly endorse the notion of transubstantiation. 

At the contemporary parish, the altar stands side-by-side with the lectern. As I noted before, the mass does not climax so definitively in the Eucharist. More emphasis is placed on the homily. The architecture of the altar echoes this diffused emphasis.  

Response from David Tate, seminarian at Holy Apostles:

My favorite reference when describing aspects of a Church is described by Fr. Kolinski when he adds that while facing the East, a Church should have the appearance of a [long] “ship heading into the East” with the priest in the lead guiding the people to the coming Christ. 

… This discussion can offer several understandings of what is intended by, “Why the priest is not standing with his back to the people?” The first version of this question should remind us that the priest does not always face in the same direction during the Mass. Sometimes, he is facing the Altar as a true priest standing at the Altar. Other times, he turns intentionally to the people in order to address or pray for the people. 

Mystery and the Sacred in the Early Church
by 
Fr. Dennis Koliński, SJC

After completing undergraduate studies at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point in 1974, Fr. Koliński did postgraduate study at the Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland where he received an M.A. in Slavic ethnography. Many years later, perceiving a call to the religious life and the priesthood, Fr. Koliński became one of the founding members of the Canons Regular of St. John Cantius, a new religious community of men that was founded at St. John Cantius Parish in Chicago in 1998. He received his M.Div. degree following the completion of his seminary studies at Holy Apostles Seminary in Cromwell, Connecticut and was ordained to the priesthood in 2004. After serving as an associate pastor at St. John Cantius Parish in Chicago, Fr. Koliński was appointed in 2007 as pastor of his community’s second parish, St. Peter’s in Volo, Illinois. Since 2010, he has been assigned to Holy Apostles Seminary and College as formator and academic advisor for the seminarians of the Canons Regular of St John Cantius. He is also a member of the seminary faculty and helps in seminary formation.

Note from Dr. Chervin:  Fr. Kolinski, S.C.J., teaches liturgy at Holy Apostles College and seminary. I asked him if he would write a chapter on this subject in addition to the chapter on the Spirituality of John Paul II which you will read later in this book.  He didn’t have time to write another chapter but said that I could place here two papers he wrote years ago.  I think you will agree that these papers of Fr. Koliński shed light on the reason behind some of the liturgical issues so current in our Church today. 

Introduction

In the early twentieth century, Pope Pius X’s call for a restoration of the “true Christian spirit” by means of “active participation in the holy mysteries and in the public and solemn prayer of the Church,” led to what became known as the Liturgical Movement and laid the groundwork for the Second Vatican Council’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium). It was the desire of the Council “to undertake with great care a general restoration of the liturgy itself.” (SC, 21) And in doing so, the Council specifically asked “that sound tradition may be retained” (SC, 23) because “in the earthly liturgy we take part in a foretaste of that heavenly liturgy which is celebrated in the holy city of Jerusalem,” (SC, 8) a sacred action surpassing all others, “of Christ the priest and of His Body, the Church.” (SC, 7) Renewal is always necessary, especially in the modern world, but in recent years, many have questioned whether it has taken the correct course. In 2007, the secretary of the Vatican’s Congregation for Divine Worship, Archbishop Albert Malcom Ranjith, admitted that liturgical reform after Vatican II “has not been able to achieve the expected goals.” (CWN, 23 February 2007) It is for this reason that a “new liturgical movement” has arisen, which strives to be true to both the Council’s directives, as well as to “sound tradition.” The following two articles can, therefore, help shed some light on the nature of the liturgy itself by taking a look at two important aspects of the Church’s centuries-old liturgical tradition.

In addition to this, descriptions of some of the rituals that were used in the Early Church have also survived. The Eucharist was called the “Sacred Mystery” and was celebrated with great solemnity. The sanctuary was adorned with mosaics and precious metals. It was a period of grand processions through magnificent basilicas. 

All of these liturgies, in one way or another, incarnated a sense of the transcendent and evoked an inexpressible awe for the ancient Christians. The rituals of the Sacred Mysteries expressed otherworldly realities and showed that the Patristic era clearly possessed a concept of the “sacred.” Certain spaces, words and rituals were sacred not only because of what they represented but also because they actually embodied the inexpressible mystery of the Eucharist. Mystery was at the root of the liturgy and mystery defined what was sacred. 

The concept of the sacred was something inherent to the ancient Christian way of thinking and their understanding of it in the context of liturgy and ritual was shaped by a specific understanding of time and history. Because everything in history pointed to or flowed from Christ, the Fathers of the Church saw salvation history as a progression from the shadow of the Old Testament, to the image of the New Testament and finally to the reality of heaven.9 The “shadows” of the Old Testament were not essentially different from the “images” of the New Testament and the ultimate “reality” of heaven. It was a reality that was obscured in the past, as if viewed through a veil that became clearer as time progressed. The Letter to the Hebrews speaks of the earthly sanctuaries as “copies of the heavenly things.”10 The sanctuary “made with hands” is a “copy of the true one”—the reality of heaven.11 

The priests of the Old Covenant served “a copy and shadow of the heavenly sanctuary.”12 They were aware that the rituals, which they performed in the Holy of Holies, took place “outside of time and matter, in the realm of the angels and the heavenly throne.”13 The high priest entered the Holy of Holies in great fear and awe. Because the sanctuary of the New Covenant was not a different sanctuary, but merely a clearer manifestation of the same heavenly reality—the image in contrast to the shadow—priests in early Christian times were likewise filled with fear and awe as they entered the sanctuary for the celebration of the Sacred Mysteries. Writings of the Patristic Age speak of “the most awful sacrifice” and “the great fearful holy life-giving awful sacrifice.”14,15 

Because churches were images of the reality in heaven, their arrangement in the early Christian era naturally corresponded with the account of the heavenly liturgy in the Book of Revelation. The congregation assembled in the nave was like “the multitude standing before the golden altar.” The twenty-four elders seated in a semi-circle around the “great white throne of God and the Lamb, with angels ministering everywhere” had its counterpart in the bishop’s throne surrounded by his presbyters and deacons.25 The heavenly liturgy was mediated through earthly signs, which allowed one to participate in the reality of heaven.26 

So mysterious, so holy was this sacred ritual, which united earth with heaven, that in the Early Church the holy “Mystery” was concealed from catechumens and pagans as much as possible.27 It was a highly private activity, which necessarily excluded all strangers.28 Only the baptized, those who were in full communion with the Church, both earthly and heavenly, were present.29 Only those, who fully understood what was happening could attend. 

After the homily, the deacon exclaimed, “Let none of the catechumens, let none of the hearers, let none of the unbelievers, let none of the heterodox, stay here.”30 Then, after all of the unbaptized had left, the deacons and subdeacons stood at the doors to the church “lest any unbeliever, or one not yet initiated, come in.”31 They warned lest “no one stay in hypocrisy,” and that all “stand in fear and trembling.”32 Only after the catechumens, public penitents and pagans had left the church did the deacons draw back the curtains, which had concealed the altar, “uncovering the veils that darkly invest in symbol this sacred ceremonial.”33 

Because the people were to shortly behold the heavenly sanctuary, purity of body and spirit was required for all who participated.34 In his Instructions to Catechumens, St. John Chrysostom admonished: “For he who is about to approach these holy and dread mysteries must be awake and alert, must be clean from all cares of this life, full of much self-restraint, much readiness, he must banish from his mind every thought foreign to the mysteries, and on all sides cleanse and prepare his home, as if about to receive the king himself.”35 

The need for purity was especially important for the priests who ministered at the altar. St. Cyprian was uncompromising on this point. He said that if the Levitical priests of the Old Covenant were forbidden to approach the altar if they were guilty of serious sin, how much more must the priests of the New Covenant be unblemished as they approach the Holy Mysteries. So holy was the altar of sacrifice that those guilty of serious sin “may not return again to the profanation of the altar.”36 The sacredness of the ritual demanded a reflection of the sacred within the priest himself, for he “call[ed] down the Holy Spirit over the Holy Sacrifice, while angels surround[ed] the altar!”37 It was as if he were already entering heaven—and in a sense, he truly was. 

The unseen spiritual realities of the Mysteries expressed themselves through the physicality of the ritual. The manner in which the body expressed itself liturgically “[made] the essence of the liturgy, as it were, bodily visible.”38 Bodily gestures and ritualistic motions bore spiritual meaning. Postures, gestures, ritual garb, the layout of physical space, and the position taken for various liturgical actions were not arbitrary or superfluous because they were sacred. For the ancients, they all took on a symbolic ritual significance for they were physical expressions of spiritual realities—an image of the heavenly reality. The “physicality” of ritual practices that took place within the sacred spaces affected the body in perceptible ways, so that Christians could see and feel their spiritual endeavors.39 

In the liturgy of the Early Church, the bishop-priest took the place of Christ, who is the High Priest of the Eternal Liturgy.40 As Christ appeared to Peter, James and John in brilliant white clothing at His Transfiguration, so the bishop, who represented him, wore “a vestment of fine, bright linen.”41 By imitating his gestures, the bishop represented Christ himself.42 At the altar the sacred minister stood “fearful and trembling,”43 always “unworthy to come into the presence of this Thy holy and spiritual table, upon which Thy only-begotten Son, and our Lord Jesus Christ, is mystically set forth as a sacrifice.”44 He acclaimed, “Let all mortal flesh be silent, and stand with fear and trembling. … the King of kings … comes forward to be sacrificed, … and the bands of angels go before Him with every power and dominion, the many-eyed cherubim, and the six-winged seraphim, covering their faces.”45 He implored “Accept, O God, by Thy ministering archangels at Thy holy, heavenly, and reasonable altar in the spacious heavens, the thank-offerings of those who offer sacrifice and oblation.”46 

Traditionally, the task of deacons was to tell the congregation what postures the people were to assume. Appropriate physical expressions encouraged appropriate interior attitudes.47 The deacons were to “oversee the people, that nobody may whisper, nor slumber, nor laugh, nor nod; for all ought in the church to stand wisely, and soberly, and attentively.”48 When they drew back the curtains, which had previously hid the sanctuary and altar, all of the faithful fell to their knees.49 

When the time came to distribute Communion, the bishop showed the Sacred Host to the people and the deacon exclaimed, “The Holy of Holies!” St. John Chrysostom wrote that the faithful must approach the Eucharist with awe and devotion.50 He wrote: “Reflect, o man, what sacrificial flesh you take in your hand! To what table you approach.”51 Everyone was to approach the altar “with reverence and holy fear, as to the body of their king.”52 To each person the deacon said, “Approach in the fear of the Lord” because he was to partake not of earthly bread, but of “heavenly and immortal food.”53,54 

St. John Chrysostom excelled in expressing the sacred mystery of the Eucharist. He wrote that it was an “awe-inspiring and divine table,” “a table of holy fear,” upon which took place the “ineffable mysteries,” the “frightful mysteries,” the “mysteries that demand reverence and trembling.”55,56 For him, the meaning of the word “mystery” even took on the nuance of “tremendous,” “He whom the angels do not see without trembling and do not dare to gaze on without fear because of the brightness that radiates from him, him we take as food, we receive him, we become one body and one flesh with Christ.”57,58

The Fathers saw “shadows” of the Eucharist in the sacrifices of Abel, Abraham, and Melchizedek, all of whom were mentioned in their ancient anaphoras.63 In addition, the Eucharist anticipated the mystery of the heavenly banquet. It was an earthly image of the heavenly liturgy, which truly became present upon the altar. Because early Christians were fully aware of this reality, the entire patristic concept of the Church was dominated by the presence of angels. Its communion with the Church in heaven received its greatest expression precisely in the liturgy because its symbols connected Christians to “what is present but hidden.”64 

In their writings, the Fathers of the Church were unambiguous in their understanding that what happened on the altar during the Eucharistic sacrifice was something far from ordinary. It was an entry into the liturgy of heaven. On the altar Christ entered into the assembly through the torn curtain. It was the place where heaven opened up, leading them into the eternal liturgy.65 One of the most striking aspects of the ancient liturgical prayers which exemplify this, is their vivid and effusive descriptions of the heavenly realities unfolding in the sanctuary: “Round Thee stand ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands of holy angels and hosts of archangels; and Thy two most honored creatures, the many-eyed cherubim and the six-winged seraphim.”66 “The numberless army of Angels … the Cherubim and six-winged Seraphim … together with thousands of thousand Archangels and myriad myriads of Angels.”67

Throughout the liturgy, ancient Christians heard references to hidden mysteries and secret words.68 They knew that when they were present at the Sacred Mysteries of the Eucharist, they were in the presence of “the unutterable One, the incomprehensible One … before whom all that is high falls down and remains silent … and beholding whom all creation surrenders in silent adoration.”69 Contemplation of this mystery directed and stimulated their lives and the liturgy was lived and practiced by the Early Church in an attitude of objective piety.70 

The prayers, the gestures and postures, the acts of reverence used in the early Christian Church all cultivated an awareness of holy mystery. Its churches created a sacred space, which took them out of the everyday world and placed them before the heavenly altar surrounded by myriads of angels. The words, which the Fathers of the Church used to express the reality in which they were taking part put them in the realm of the sacred. For them, the liturgy expressed something beyond this world by embodying a sense of transcendence and inexpressible awe. They knew that they were in the presence of the One God and Sovereign of all, “who sittest upon the cherubim, and art glorified by the seraphim, before whom stand thousand thousands and ten thousand times ten thousand hosts of angels and archangels.”71 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

St. Ambrose, Theological and Dogmatic Works: The Sacraments, The Mysteries (The Catholic University of America Press: Washington, D.C., 1963). 

Baker, Margaret. “The Temple Roots of the Liturgy,” (Online resource, Jewish Roots of Eastern Christian Mysticism Project, Marquette University, 2003). 

Baur, Chrysostomus, OSB, John Chrysostom and His Times, vol. I (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1959). 

Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book II, Section VII, Paragraph LVII (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book VIII, Section II, paragraph XII (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

St. Cyprian, Epistle LXIII (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

Divine Liturgy of St. James (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

The Divine Liturgy of the Holy Apostle and Evangelist Mark, The Disciple of the Holy Peter (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

Dix, Dom Gregory, The Shape of the Liturgy (Dacre Press: London, 1945). 

The Early Christians after the Death of the Apostles, ed. Eberhard Arnold (Plough Publishing House: Rifton, N.Y., 1970). 

Encyclopedia of the Early Church, ed. Angelo Di Berardino (Oxford University Press: N.Y., 1992). 

Fortescue, Adrian, “Antiochene Liturgy,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. I (Robert Appleton Company, 1907, Online Edition, 2003). 

Fortescue, Adrian, “Liturgy,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. IX (Robert Appleton Company, 1908, Online Edition, 2003). 

Fortescue, Adrian, “Liturgy of Jerusalem,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. VIII (Robert Appleton Company, 1910, Online Edition, 2003). 

Introduction to the Liturgy, ed. Anscar J. Chupungco, O.S.B. (The Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minn., 1997). 

Jenner Henry, “Ambrosian Liturgy and Rite,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. I (Robert Appleton Company, 1907, Online Edition, 2003). 12 




St. John Chrysostom, Instructions to Catechumens (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church,” Copyright © 1999). 

Kinross, Lord, Hagia Sopia (Newsweek: N.Y., 1972). 

Martimort, A.G., “Structure and Laws of the Liturgical Celebration,” The Church at Prayer: An Introduction to the Liturgy, vol. I—Principles of the Liturgy (The Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minn., 1987). 

The Mystery of Christian Worship: and other writings, ed. Burkhard Neunheuser, O.S.B. (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1932). 

Neunheuser, Burkhard, O.S.B., “Roman Genius Revisited,” Liturgy for the New Millenium (The Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minn., 2000). 

Quasten, Johannes, Patrology, vol. III (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1960). 

Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal, The Spirit of the Liturgy (Ignatius Press: San Francisco, 2000). 

Thurston, Herbert, “Symbolism,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. IV (Robert Appleton Company, 1912, Online Edition, 2003). 

Torevell, David, Losing the Sacred: Ritual, Modernity and Liturgical Reform (T & T Clark Ltd.: Edinburgh, 2000). 




Endnotes 




1. Encyclopedia of the Early Church, ed. Angelo Di Berardino (Oxford University Press: N.Y., 1992), 293. 

2. Neunheuser, Burkhard, O.S.B., “Roman Genius Revisited,” Liturgy for the New Millenium (The Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minn., 2000), 43. 

3.  Fortescue, Adrian, “Liturgy,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. IX (Robert Appleton Company, 1908, Online Edition, 2003). 

4.  The Mystery of Christian Worship: and other writings, ed. Burkhard Neunheuser, OSB (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1932), 34. 

5.  Ibid, 35. 

6.  Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 495. 

7.  Ibid, 495. 

8.  Ibid, 577. 

9.  Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal, The Spirit of the Liturgy (Ignatius Press: San Francisco, 2000), 60. 

10. Hebrews 9:23. 

11. Hebrews 9:24. 

12.  Hebrews 8:5. 

13.  Baker, Margaret. “The Temple Roots of the Liturgy,” (Online resource, Jewish Roots of Eastern Christian Mysticism Project, Marquette University, 2003). 

14.  From St. Cyril of Jerusalem, in Baker, “The Temple Roots” 

15.  From the Nestorian liturgy, in Baker, “The Temple Roots” 

16.  Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book II, Section VII, Paragraph LVII (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). Our word “nave” comes from the Latin word for ship, navis. 

17.  Baur, Chrysostomus, O.S.B., John Chrysostom and His Times, vol. I (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1959), 196. 

18.  Divine Liturgy of St. James (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

19.  Exodus 26:31-34. 

20.  Hebrews 9:4. 

21.  Kinross, Lord, Hagia Sopia (Newsweek: N.Y., 1972), 15. 

22.  Thurston, Herbert, “Symbolism,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. IV (Robert Appleton Company, 1912, Online Edition, 2003). 

23.  St. Ambrose, Theological and Dogmatic Works: The Sacraments, The Mysteries (The Catholic University of America Press: Washington, D.C., 1963), 7. 

24.  Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book II. 

25.  Dix, Dom Gregory, The Shape of the Liturgy (Dacre Press: London, 1945), 28. Taken from St. Ignatius’ Epistle to the Magnesians: VI.I. 

26.  Ratzinger, The Spirit, 61. 

27.  Baur, John Chrysostom, 194. 

28.  Dix, The Shape, 16. 

29.  Fortescue, “Liturgy”. 

30.  Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book VIII, Section II, paragraph XII (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

31.  Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book II. 

32.  Fortescue, Adrian, “Antiochene Liturgy,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. I (Robert Appleton Company, 1907, Online Edition, 2003). 

33.  Divine Liturgy of St. James. 

34.  Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 494. 

35.  St. John Chrysostom, Instructions to Catechumens: 2 (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church,” Copyright © 1999). 

36.  St. Cyprian, Epistle LXIII.3 (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

37.  Baur, John Chrysostom, 183. 

38.  Ratzinger, The Spirit, 176-177. 

39.  Torevell, David, Losing the Sacred: Ritual, Modernity and Liturgical Reform (T & T Clark Ltd.: Edinburgh, 2000), 48-49. 

40.  Introduction to the Liturgy, ed. Anscar J. Chupungco, O.S.B. (The Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minn., 1997), 76. 14 




41.  Martimort, A.G., “Structure and Laws of the Liturgical Celebration,” The Church at Prayer: An Introduction to the Liturgy, vol. I—Principles of the Liturgy (The Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minn., 1987), 180. 

42. Introduction to the Liturgy, 76. 

43.  Divine Liturgy of St. James. 

44.  Ibid. 

45.  Ibid. 

46. The Divine Liturgy of the Holy Apostle and Evangelist Mark, The Disciple of the Holy Peter (Online Edition, New Advent, “The Fathers of the Church”). 

47.  Martimort, “Structure and Laws”, 180. 

48.  Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book II. 

49.  Baur, John Chrysostom, 192. 

50.  From Homilia de baptismatis Christi, MG 49,379, in Quasten, Johannes, Patrology, vol. III (The Newman Press: Westminster, Maryland, 1960), 480. 

51.  Quasten, Patrology, 480. 

52.  Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Book II. 

53.  Fortescue, “Antiochene Liturgy”. 

54. The Divine Liturgy of the Holy Apostle and Evangelist Mark. 

55.  Quasten, Patrology, 480. 

56.  From St. John Chrystosom, in Quasten, Patrology, 480. 

57.  Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 577. 

58.  From St. John Chrysostom’s Homily 82 on Matthew 5, in Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 441. 

59.  Quasten, Patrology, 480. 

60.  Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 441. 

61.  Quasten, Patrology, 480. 

62.  Ibid. 

63.  Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 504. 

64. Ratzinger, The Spirit, 60. 

65.  Ibid, 71. 

66.  The Divine Liturgy of the Holy Apostle and Evangelist Mark. 

67.  Fortescue, “Antiochene Liturgy”. 

68.  From the Acts of Thomas I.10, in The Early Christians after the Death of the Apostles, ed. Eberhard Arnold (Plough Publishing House: Rifton, N.Y., 1970). 

69.  From Acts of John 84, 84, 79, in The Early Christians, 235. 

70.  Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 495. 

71.  Divine Liturgy of St. James.  

Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Sharing:

1. How did the Early Church understand the nature of the sacred liturgy?

2. How was the liturgy of the New Covenant foreshadowed in the worship of the Old Covenant Temple?

3. How do the sensate elements of the liturgy help Catholics properly and more fully experience the Mass?




RESPONSES TO THIS CHAPTER:

Response of Sean Hurt:

The unseen spiritual realities of the Mysteries expressed themselves through the physicality of the ritual. The manner in which the body expressed itself liturgically “[made] the essence of the liturgy, as it were, bodily visible.”

When I first started attending masses, before I even started RCIA, I mostly ignored the liturgical movements. Things like genuflection, an offering or opening gesture, even the sign of the cross I didn’t really participate. I thought, “This is not how I show respect, holiness etc. Should I do it just because everyone else does? That wouldn’t be genuine.”   

It wasn’t until I met Ronda’s sister who teaches sacred dance that I really understood the importance of these gestures. She taught me that we can pray through movement. In fact that is an important aspect of prayer. Jesus taught us to love God with our whole being. So, doesn’t it make sense to pray with our bodies as well?

Now, we normally assume our minds control our bodies. But I think it’s a two-way street. Outward actions (such as dance and gestures) can shape our interior self. For example, there is something inherent to genuflection that builds an inward respect for our Lord. It seems to me that action and belief reinforce each other, rather than one simply causing the other. So, it’s fascinating to me how the early Church recognized this, and placed such emphasis on movement. 

Response from Kathleen Brouillette:

I am tempted to write, “this is a recording” because my reaction to these chapters on liturgy is the same as it has been to all the preceding chapters:  our beloved Holy Mother Church needs to do a better job of forming her people in the truth.  A significant part of that truth, the image of Christ as Bridegroom of the Church and Head of His Body, the Church, is noted in the introduction to Fr. Kolinski’s paper:  “…‘in the earthly liturgy we take part in a foretaste of that heavenly liturgy which is celebrated in the holy city of Jerusalem,’ a sacred action surpassing all others, ‘of Christ the priest and of His Body, the Church.’ ” 

A clear and deep understanding of that truth would do much to change the celebration of liturgy today, when mankind takes so much for granted and is especially impressed with his own ability to understand and master the world in which he lives.  There is precious little sense of mystery and awe, and very little fear of the Lord, who is being systematically removed from every aspect of life in the twenty-first century, as I have written before.

In Fr. Kolinski’s course (taught at Holy Apostles on campus and also on-line in the Distance Learning program) on organic development of the liturgy, he taught that the Church and Her liturgy are a living and growing entity, evolving over time.  However, removal of so much of the beauty and awe in language, architecture, art, music, and such has also removed much of the mystery and reverence on the part of the people.  Fewer are attending Mass with any regularity, or exhibiting any outward expression of holy fear.  We are not taught the privilege of being in the Presence of such a great mystery, as they were in the early Church.  How many people strike their breasts as they say, “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault”?    How many follow a Eucharistic fast?  How many even rid their mouths of gum or candy before going to receive the Most Precious Body and Blood of Christ?  It’s heartbreaking… We have no sense of sin and little sense of unworthiness because man has made himself a god. We see more a sense of entitlement – even when it comes to the Eucharist.  How many march up to receive Communion without having gone to Mass or confession in many years? 

Response from David Tate:

We fall so easily into the trap of comparing the past with the ‘superior’ standards of today. The quotation that really helps me to refrain from unfairly judging the past is, “That was then, and this is now.” We must also include this mentality when understanding how the early Church celebrated Liturgy. It is very easy to ‘suppose’ many things. We can err on both sides of supposition. The first side is that because they were closer in time to the Apostles, they must have been more correct. The other side is to assume that they did a lot of “improvisation” due to their ignorance of a truly proper liturgy. Through research of ancient liturgies, Fr. Kolinski shows that the Early Church gained quite quickly a “striking uniformity… at a very early date.”

Fr. Kolinski often says that Heaven touches the earth during the Holy Mass. We are so accustomed to seeing with our eyes of flesh that it is difficult to perceive sometimes the difference between the Liturgy and any other human performance. If we had eyes to see the transcendent, our lives would be completed changed with a single Mass. How true it is when we see how the Old Covenant priests did celebrate a shadow of Holy Mass when they served at the Altar of the Holy of Holies.

The Popular and Church Perspectives on Work
by
Cynthia Toolin, PhD

Dr. Toolin is a professor of dogmatic and moral theology at Holy Apostles College and Seminary where she has worked since 1997. She is married, with two married daughters and six grandchildren. She divides her time between Connecticut and Vermont.

Note from Dr. Chervin: 
Before reading and teaching John Paul II’s encyclical on work, I was like most people, thinking of work primarily as a result of the Fall.  I thought that work I enjoyed was simply a gift of God, not part of the basics of human nature even before the Fall. Certainly our twenty-first century Catholic synthesis needs to help us to appreciate that the crosses of work do not negate its basic goodness.  In a way, people understand that better in our times because of the scourge of unemployment. Instead of complaining about work, many are praying to find it. Unfortunately, on the other side, we find more people who are characterized as work-aholics. What a balanced view we find in Church teaching about the nature of work. 

John Paul II wrote an encyclical devoted entirely to work, Laborem Exercens (On Human Work), in 1981.1 In it, he wrote about work in a way that can only be described as countercultural. The three points we will discuss are his definition of work, his distinctions within work as concerns the objective and subjective aspects of it, and the communal aspects of work (personal, familial, and societal.) 

The Definition of Work

Many people in our culture think of work as synonymous with employment. They believe work is drudgery, something we must do to earn a paycheck so we can pay the bills. This common perspective leads many to focus their goals on the exact opposite of work: leisure. Others, and I would suggest fewer, see work in a positive light, as personally fulfilling, as a process followed to accomplish something, or as a community of persons working towards a goal, that is towards the common good. This second perspective is closer to what the Church teaches about the true meaning of work.

In his encyclical, John Paul II was clear that work is not synonymous with employment; rather, he treats employment as a subset of work. He explained that work is a good for man, a process we were to undertake from the beginning, or from our creation in the Garden of Eden. It is to be seen in tandem with procreation, as is clear when we review the twin rules God gave us: to fill the earth and to subdue it (Genesis 1:28). Only man, as person made in the image and likeness of God, can work. Work is a universal experience that fills man’s days. Unfortunately, our experience of work changed with the advent of Original Sin, and it is for that reason that our common perspective on work is that it is necessary drudgery. In the Introduction to Laborem Exercens, John Paul II said,

And work means any activity by man, whether manual or intellectual, whatever its nature or circumstances; it means any human activity that can and must be recognized as work, in the midst of all the many activities of which man is capable and to which he is predisposed by his very nature, by virtue of humanity itself. Man is made to be in the visible universe an image and likeness of God himself, and he is placed in it in order to subdue the earth. From the beginning therefore he is called to work. 

In this section we are presented with what John Paul II understood about the meaning of work. The statements “any activity,” “any human activity,” and “many activities of which man is capable” explain work as something larger than employment. Most of us are employed at some point during our lives—that is, we perform mental or physical tasks for pay—but that is only a subset of the activity we can do. We all do many things for which we do not receive pay: we take care of other people, we teach things to people, we build things for people, and so on. The number of things we do that are not part of our employment are much greater in variety and in quantity than what we do for actual pay.

We work all the time, only not always for pay. Making a meal for my family is work; cleaning my house is work; tilling my garden is work; typing a professional paper for my employment is work. But there is a difference between the first three kinds of work and the latter. Someday I may retire but I will still have to cook, clean the house, and garden. All four are work, but only the last one is for pay; only the last one is a requirement of my employment.

Thus, work does not equal employment; employment is a subset of work. As John Paul II explained, man is the only creature in the visible world made in the image and likeness of God. It is Church teaching that to be created in God’s image and likeness means we are persons. Like the One God, we have intellect to know the truth and the will to love it; like the Triune God, we are a community. God creates the world and then gives it to man, the only person in visible creation, for his safekeeping and development. He gives man, his highest creation, the command (as recorded in Genesis) to subdue and dominate the earth. Revelation is telling us, even before the Fall, we are supposed to work, to bring God’s visible creation to fulfillment. After the Fall, the work we were always supposed to do often becomes unpleasant and arduous. To be man means to be one who works. It has always been this way, and as long as we, as a species, are on earth, it will continue to be this way. Work is good for us.

John Paul II continued in his Introduction, 
Work is one of the characteristics that distinguish man from the rest of creatures, whose activity for sustaining their lives cannot be called work. Only man is capable of work, and only man works, at the same time by work occupying his existence on earth. Thus work bears a particular mark of man and of humanity, the mark of a person operating within a community of persons. And this mark decides its interior characteristics; in a sense it constitutes its very nature.  

This is a wonderful passage. Only man, the person, can work. This is a very countercultural statement. We think animals work and machines work.  Animals exert energy at the service of man, once we have trained them how to do so. Horses don’t get together and decide to invent a harness and carriage so they can pull the carriage and carry man somewhere. We invent the harness and carriage; we capture and domesticate the horses; we train them how to pull the carriage to carry us where we want to go. We work doing all of these things.

John Paul II said work is a “fundamental dimension of human existence on earth.” #4 This has always been the case, whether we were in the state of original justice or later in the state of Original Sin. John Paul II continued, 

When man, who had been created “in the image of God…male and female,” hears the words: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it,”, even though these words do not refer directly and explicitly to work, beyond any doubt they indirectly indicate it as an activity for man to carry out in the world.…Man is the image of God partly though the mandate received from his Creator to subdue, to dominate the earth. In carrying out this mandate, man, every human being, reflects the very action of the Creator of the universe. #4 

We all work, for pay and/or not for pay, and we do this for most of our lives. Work occupies our existence on earth; our lives are full of work, and it is by work that we live and at the same time, build up our family, and the community, society, and culture that we live in. In our work we reflect God. He created and holds creation in its existence; we mirror him as we subdue and dominate the earth, bringing his creation to fruition. And as we do so, work impacts us.

Further we work most of our lives; it occupies our existence on earth. Work also occurs within a community of persons; it is both a solitary and a communal project. I work developing and typing this paper. Another professor works using it as a teaching tool. The students work learning it. And hopefully, when the students graduate, they will use what they learned in their work as Catholic leaders. Much of the work we do, whether for pay or not, is done alone; but note, it has a communal impact. Our work impacts the common good, either positively or negatively. Here is another example. I work tilling the garden. I bought tomato stakes at a garden store from a clerk, using money I earned as a theologian. Someone made those stakes and they were delivered to the store by someone else. My husband drove me home in his car with my stakes. Someone designed the car; it was produced by workers somewhere. It was delivered to a car lot by someone; it was bought by my husband with money he earned working in a campground, and so on, in a seemingly infinite group of workers.2  This all so I can grow tomatoes and serve fresh salads to the man I love. Do you see how our lives are consumed by work? That it is all related? That my product of a salad could not occur without all these other people working? And that this is a positive thing?

Objective and Subjective Aspects of Work

Now I think we have a basic idea of what work is, but we need to delve more deeply into the reality of work and draw some distinctions. One of the central concepts of this encyclical is that work has both an objective and subjective aspect. These aspects concern the issue of the true value of work. Usually, in our culture and I think in many others, when we think of work we think of the objective aspect, that is, what we do.To understand these aspects we have to realize that work is a transitive activity. John Paul II said,

 [Work] begins within the “human subject and directed towards an external object. [This] presupposes a specific dominion by man over  “the earth,”, and in its turn it confirms and develops this dominion.… The expression  “subdue the earth” has an immense range. It means all the resources that the earth (and indirectly the visible world) contains and which, through the conscious activity of man, can be discovered and used for his ends. #4

As we analyze the world, we identify an issue or problem, or have an idea, and we know that to bring it to fruition a piece of work must be done. Using our intellect we know that if we want to eat fresh tomatoes, we must plant a garden. With the engagement of our free will, we use our personal power to plant, till, and harvest a garden. That whole process began inside of us, and through intellect, will, and personal power, we impact something outside of us. There was no garden, just a plot of land with dirt, rocks, and weeds. Then we did something and now there is a bumper crop of tomatoes. As John Paul II said, [this activity] begins within the “human subject and [is] directed towards an external object.” 
John Paul II continued, saying, 
"This is a universal process, as it embraces all human beings, every generation, every phase of economic and cultural development, and at the same time it is a process that takes place within each human being, in each conscious human subject. Each and every individual is at the same time embraced by it. Each and every individual, to the proper extent and in an incalculable number of ways, takes part in the giant process whereby man  “subdues the earth” through his work. #4

Dominating the earth occurs through work by harvesting resources, like clothing from animal skins; subduing the earth also occurs through work by transforming products, as in agriculture and industry. This is the objective sense of work. Man works and in the process dominates and subdues the earth.3 Something is done, originating in man, which results in a change in the external world.

When we think of work we usually think of this objective sense, as can be seen from job titles. We can see that someone is responsible for something being done. The mail person delivers the mail, the secretary types letters, the teacher conducts a class, the mother raises children, and the wife makes a home. The work done is what we call the objective aspect. 

More important is the fact that man is the subject of work. This is what John Paul II said about this subjective aspect of work,

Man has to subdue the earth and dominate it, because as the  “image of God” he is a person, that is to say, a subjective being capable of acting in a planned and rational way, capable of deciding about himself, and with a tendency to self-realization. As a person, man is therefore the subject of work. As a person he works, he performs various actions belonging to the work process; independently of their objective content, these actions must all serve to realize his humanity, to fulfill the calling to be a person that is his by reason of his very humanity.

Understood as a process whereby man and the human race subdue the earth, work corresponds to this basic biblical concept only when throughout the process man manifests himself and confirms himself as the one who “dominates.” This dominion, in a certain sense, refers to the subjective dimension even more than to the objective one: this dimension conditions the very ethical nature of work. In fact there is no doubt that human work has an ethical value of its own, which clearly and directly remain linked to the fact that the one who carries it out is a person, a conscious and free subject, that is to say a subject that decides about himself. #6
John Paul II pointed out that, in the past, the type of work done has been used as part of a class system. Building on the Old Testament, Christianity changed the emphasis from the objective sense of work to the subjective one. Jesus worked as a manual laborer for most of his life on earth. 

This circumstance constitutes in itself the most eloquent ‘Gospel of work’, showing that the basis for determining the value of human work is not primarily the kind of work being done but the fact that the one who is doing it is a person. The sources of the dignity of work are to be sought primarily in the subjective dimension, not in the objective one. #6

Now we understand the subjective aspect of work is more important than the objective one. This is an extremely countercultural understanding of work. Clearly work (for pay) has to be classified in a way that leads to fair compensation. The person who delivers the mail should not be compensated at the same level as the leading cardiac surgeon in the country. There is an objective difference in their work, in their skill in performing their work, and in their preparation to learn how to do their work. Yet, on the subjective level, what is important is that the work is done by persons. 

 From the objective point of view, human work cannot and must not be rated and qualified in any way. It only means that the primary basis of the value of work is man himself, who is its subject. This leads immediately to a very important conclusion of an ethical nature: however true it may be that man is destined for work and called to it, in the first place work is  “for man” and not man  “for work.” #6
He said further, 

Presupposing that the different sorts of work that people do can have greater or lesser objective value, let us try nevertheless to show that each sort is judged above all by the measure of the dignity of the subject of work, that is to say the person, the individual who carries it out. #6

Sphere of Values 

Now that we understand the distinction between the objective and subjective aspects of work, we turn to another distinction within the concept of work, the sphere of values that come from the subjective aspect—personal, familial, and societal.

John Paul II pointed out that it is a universal experience to work and, ultimately, to toil. Simply stated, work is not an easy thing to do. It can be physically and mentally challenging, exhausting, unsuccessful, disappointing. This is a universal experience, and yet, work and toil is a good for man. It is so good that we were supposed to work in the Garden before the Fall; after the Fall, we are to continue to work, but it has unfortunately become difficult. It is through work that we obey the second of God’s commands. It is through hard work, through toil, that we dominate and subject the world.  John Paul II said, 
Work is a good thing for man—a good thing for his humanity—because through work man not only transforms nature, adapting it to his own needs, but he also achieves fulfillment as a human being and indeed, in a sense, becomes “more a human being.” #9

We are shaped by work. We are supposed to bring God’s creation to fruition. This activity corresponds to the command to procreate, to fill Heaven and Earth with persons. We are to work with God—who worked in creating, and continues to work in sustaining creation through all its developments and changes. He entrusted creation to us with the task of working with him, of continuing his work and offering it back to him as we glorify him. How could either of these activities performed with God, commanded by God, not change us into better people. As John Paul II said, again, through work each of us “achieves fulfillment as a human being and indeed, in a sense, becomes ‘more a human being.’”

We are all born into a family, and the overwhelming majority of people form a family when they are adults (although neither the family of origin or of choice is necessarily permanent, successful, nor good at achieving its ends.) In addition to work being good for us as individuals, it is good for us communally. Work is intimately tied to the family. We cannot start or maintain a family without work, and once the family is started, we need work so we can successfully educate our children, also in work. 

John Paul II said,
In a way, work is a condition for making it possible to found a family, since the family requires the means of subsistence which man normally gains through work. Work and industriousness also influence the whole process of education in the family, for the very reason that everyone  “becomes a human being” through, among other things, work, and becoming a human being is precisely the main purpose of the whole process of education. #10
He continued, “The family is simultaneously a community made possible by work and the first school of work, within the home, for every person.” #10

The third part of this distinction is that through work we develop our culture. This is another universal experience. John Paul II said, 
The great society to which man belongs on the basis of particular cultural and historical links…is not only the great “educator" of every man…it is also a great historical and social incarnation of the work of all generations. All of this brings it about that man combines his deepest human identity with membership of a nation, and intends his work also to increase the common good developed together with his compatriots, thus realizing that in this way work serves to add to the heritage of the whole human family, of all the people living in the world.4 #10 

He tied the objective and subjective dimensions with the three spheres of value, saying,
These three spheres are always important for human work in its subjective dimension. And this dimension, that is to say, the concrete reality of the worker, takes precedence over the objective dimension. #10

The expression of this understanding of work is radically countercultural. Work is something God ordered us to do? Through it we dominate and subdue the earth? It is a good for us? It develops us as human beings, and its true value is based on the fact that persons do it? And growing from that subjective aspect, we are not only developed, but we found and support our families, fulfill our educational obligations to our children, and develop our culture? 

Countercultural?

Throughout this paper I have pointed out several places in which the understanding of work in the encyclical, part of the universal Magisterium of the Church, and that of our culture, disagree. The definition of words are the most basic level at which people must agree if they are to proceed to develop theoretical or practical models of the concept of interest, and draw out pertinent distinctions. The Church definition of work is a countercultural one. To make this apparent to you, I looked up the word “work” on www.dictionary.com and read through, and organized, a wide variety of definitions.

Work is usually defined as labor or a chore, something being done, or being in a position where something is being done and it is usually an arduous or unpleasant task. Some synonyms for work are neutral. These include words like endeavor, performance, production, task, and function. These words describe work; they define it. Work as a function has neither positive nor negative overtones. “My function is to teach,” is a neutral statement. It does not express the ease or difficulty of the work, nor my attitude towards it.

Other synonyms, that are positive, include application of oneself, gainful employment, freelance, having a job, doing business, and earning a living, imply something positive about work. They refer directly, or at least imply, some task or performance done for income or pay. The sentence, “I earn a living,” implies I am socially responsible, supporting myself, and contributing to the support of my family, paying my bills. It doesn’t matter if I am earning a living from a teaching job or a clerical one. I have a job. The antonyms for work, when it is defined as being employed or exerting oneself, are idle, lazy, relax, and rest. If I am earning a living, I am not idle or lazy.

There is a cluster of ways in which work is defined as something being done that ends in a result. Work in this cluster means manipulation, operation, power, instrumentality, and cultivation or forming, and it results in an achievement. The synonyms for this sense of the word include action verbs: accomplish, act, bring about, care for, carry out, cause, channel, contrive, control, create, direct, drive, effect, execute, force, function, handle, implement, influence, intercession, intervention, knead, make, manipulate, manage, maneuver, means, mediation, mold, move perform, ply, process, progress, react , run, serve, shape, take, tend, tick, use, and wield. These verbs are not only positive; they imply that the person working has at least some control over the process and/or the result. The sentences “I created this class” or “I helped that student achieve his educational goals” is very different from the sentence, “I am going to the salt mines.” The major antonym for work in this sense is destroy. “I destroyed that student’s attempt to achieve his educational goals.”

But negative synonyms for work are legion. I think the sheer number of negative synonyms points to the cultural meaning of the word. If there was a count of the number of times neutral, positive, and negative synonyms for work are used, I think the negative ones would be used the most frequently. They include daily grind, dead end, drudgery, elbow grease, grindstone, hustle, knuckle down, labor, muscle, pains, plug away, punch a clock, push, salt mines, servitude, slave, slogging, stint, strain, stress, striving, struggle, sweat, toil, travail, trial, and trouble. “I am going to the daily grind now,” is a value-laden sentence. I am doing something I don’t really want to do, but must. The antonyms in this case are entertainment, fun, pastime. If I am going to the “salt mines,” the implication is that I cannot be having fun at work. Drudgery is the word that is the most descriptive negative synonym for work. In this situation, life is not lived, but spent looking forward to rest, whether it be after work, in retirement, on vacation, or during weekends. Most thought is to a time away from the misery of toil and labor.

Remembering how much time John Paul II spent in his encyclical writing about how good work is for man, let us close with these countercultural words. Work is, as has been said, an obligation, that is to say, a duty, on the part of man. This is true in all the many meanings of the word. Man must work, both because the Creator has commanded it and because of his own humanity, which requires work in order to be maintained and developed. Man must work out of regard for others, especially his own family, but also for the society he belongs to, the country of which he is a child, and the whole human family of which he is a member, since he is the heir to the work of generations and at the same time a sharer in building the future of those who will come after him in the succession of history. #16

Endnotes
1 I use the official Vatican translation of this document, found at www.vatican.va,   In this paper I quote John Paul II extensively and then see what information we can glean from each quotation. The goal is to understand his teaching on work and contrast it with popular conceptions of work in our culture. Note that within his quotations, italics are in the original.

 There are many topics he covers in this encyclical which are not germane to this paper because they cover issues of employment, indirect and direct employers, workers’ rights, labor movements, capital and labor, key to the social question, just wages, etc. A fascinating section of this encyclical, which I urge you to read prayerfully, concerns the Church’s development of a spirituality of work.

2 Footnote on concentric circles

3 See #5. 

4 This is interesting …Working at any workbench…a man can easily see that through his work he enters into two inheritances: the inheritance of what is given to the whole of humanity in the resources of nature, and the inheritance of what others have already developed on the basis of those resources, primarily by developing technology, that is to say, by producing a whole collection of increasingly perfect instruments for work. In working, man also "enters into the labor of others". #13 

For Personal Reflection and Group Sharing

• How would you define work? How does your definition compare with the one found in John Paul II’s encyclical on work?
• Do you agree that work is good for man? Describe some ways in which you see work as a good. Compare your descriptions with current cultural thoughts on work.
• Do you see a relationship between God’s command to procreate and to work? In what ways is work good for the family?

RESPONSES TO THIS CHAPTER:

Response from Sean Hurt:

This subject of work is surprisingly complex and multi-faceted. On one hand work can be a source of great misery. As Ronda pointed out in the introduction to this chapter, we associate it with the Fall. Furthermore, work can accompany an unhealthy focus on the material world. There are many people in American society who eat to work and not the other way around.

Superficially, it’s strange that there should be a profound connection between worship and work. But in Christianity we’re very familiar with the connection via the Third Commandment. We must carve out time consecrated to God. This saves us from a worldly perspective. So, we have a long history of understanding work as antithetical to worship. Therefore, it is interesting to consider how work can be complementary to worship of God. 

As the author points out, work makes us a special, different part of God’s Creation. We are unique from the rest of existence in this respect. Indeed, human work is a wondrous thing, because true work is creative. Through work, we create. Our nature of creation is what makes us, in part, an “image of God”.

The Eucharist recapitulates this powerful connection between God’s creation and human work. Jesus selects bread and wine for his body and blood. This is both “fruit of the Earth and work of human hands”. He could easily have picked something that was His creation only, like wheat and grapes, olives and pomegranates or honey and water. Instead, Jesus picked bread and wine. This, and not God’s creation alone, becomes our spiritual food and drink. Why does Jesus lift up human work in this way?

I think it’s insightful to look at work in a peasant society. In Malawi, we have a long dry season. Everything dies. The roads become dust. During this time, farming, the primary mode of Malawian work, is impossible. There is no irrigation. Wild fires break out everywhere, burning, destroying tree-crops, homes and forests. 

When the rains do return, which coincidentally come around Christmas, it’s a joyous occasion. Life has returned! The water shocks the sterile dust; the trees bloom and make such a pungent odor.  The sky thickens with flying ants and termites. Children dance, wildly, naked in the rains snatching them out of the air! The forests and orchards swell with fruits, mushrooms and tasty caterpillars! 

Along with God’s bounty, people feel the call back to their fields. A family leaves in the early morning after the first rain. The women carry babies on their backs. Young and old dig their gardens. Maybe three generations stand side by side, laughing, chatting, singing, swinging the hoe in unison. They till 3 acres this way, by hand. Two acres are for maize, and another is for soybeans or peanuts.  Like the farmer from parables, they plant the seed, and while they sleep, the maize germinates. They know not how. 

The harvest comes around Easter. The whole country-side rejoices, for the granary was empty. The mood is rapturous and festive. The harvest piles high into an ox-cart! This is also the season for weddings, and the village celebrates new life!

I’m telling you this because I want to paint a picture of work in Malawi. It’s different than in America. In Malawi, it feels like you and God are working together, blessing creation with bountiful life. We are both creators, in a sense.  Yes, the work is back-breaking and tedious, but it is their life, their culture, and, paradoxically, a celebration. 

I hope you see that American work is different. I don’t know what the difference is exactly, but there is a spiritual dimension to work that’s missing here. Maybe we’ve removed ourselves too far from work’s essence of co-creation. Maybe we’re too specialized. Maybe we’re so consumed by a man-made world that we no longer see God’s role in our economic lives. In any case, much work in America has lost its divine glory, but retained its drudgery.

Response of David Tate:

John Paul II refers to an abstract sense of work that caused a great conflict within me as I was a teenager slowly entering the adult world becoming a fully autonomous ‘person’. The beginnings of this started when I was in a para-Church youth organization. I was growing in my identity as a young man and as a young Christian. I was very happy in learning that according to God, my being had value. I was so happy in my growing faith, as well as the joys of being a child of God, that I started to feel that hungering after material possessions was a road that somehow seemed not worthy of my new spiritual life. Even until this day, I am troubled to understand the lack of certain abilities in my life at that time. One thing that does seem to come to my thoughts, which is hopefully something healthy in a young Christian mind, was that I recall that I felt like my home life with my parents was something secure. The thought never occurred to me that my parents might ask me to move out some day. 

To return the topic of ‘work’, I had connected work with being a Christian. In my young mind, whatever I was motivated to do was ‘work’; regardless of whether I got paid or not. This way of thinking was not acceptable to my dad. Even though my dad never threatened me with eviction, he did clearly state on more than one occasion that some of my activities were not a “real job”. My dad did not connect your ‘being’ with your ’job’. He understood that you worked for people that didn’t care about you, and in return, you walked away each day having a paycheck in your pocket. For him, the ‘work’ done was not in any way an extension of your being.

It appears that my dad and I were not in the same sphere. It is interesting that John Paul II has captured a place in between my dad and I. He has taught that ‘work’ is both an obligation and an extension of being. I believe my dad would be more satisfied with me today, but I also take great satisfaction in that somehow the Pope has given us a wink to say that we were both correct. Entertaining a Cheshire grin, I know one point that my dad and the Pope certainly agreed on, “From the beginning therefore he is called to work.”

When I think of ‘work’, I instinctively go to two distinctions. The first is individual. The second is communal. Having gotten past the basic point, I see work as diving again into the Good that pointS to ME and the good which points to the community. In the first category, an individual directly works out of his own needs. He is willing to trade time and effort knowing he will receive in return something he wants. In the second version of this selfish activity is an indirect desire to serve others, in so doing he ends up serving himself because he loves or cares for those he says he is trying to benefit. On the needy side, we work for ourselves and for our community because we need our self-esteem to be bolstered. We need to feel some kind of self-gratification, as well as the approval of our society.

When all is said and done, we cannot stress too much over the motives and pseudo-motives behind why we work. What we really need to do is to understand that we were made to work. This work involves the expressing of our talents, desires, and mission. These three come directly from the fact that we have been created by God with these motivations imprinted upon us.

God knows about these motivations because He has them in Himself. In His making us in His image, He has given us a reflection of His own self. He gives to each one a function and purpose to fulfill. (No one is created purpose-less.) Secondly, God has planted within us appetites that demand a source of being satisfied. Does not an athlete hunger for the reward that is felt by the body after physical exertion? All appetites seek being satisfied. C.S. Lewis suggested that God does not give us true appetites that cannot be fulfilled. And finally, the existent things of the universe are all bound in movement back to God. This means that each and every creature has a mission to fulfill. There must be very few humans that pass through life without asking, “What is the meaning or purpose of my life?” In a broad answer, these three aspects (talents, desires, and mission) encompass the “why” of the work we do. To recall the work of grace in our lives, we can restate the answer this way: It is grace that initiates us; grace that motivates us; and grace that leads us to the many and the final finish lines of our work. Work is natural and work is good.

In quoting John Paul II, “[The family is] the first school of work”, we are reminded that procreation is at the heart of the Sacrament of Marriage; and that parents are the first teachers of their children. Anyone that has ever been in a relationship of any kind understands that another person becomes a burden to you. By burden we mean something in addition to yourself. Their life, their joys, their sorrows become an additional part of your life that you now carry around with you. Any science teacher will agree that carrying something is truly work. It is no surprise that we are at our most virtuous when we come to desire the additional burden of another person. In a strange way, we are led by compassion to do that which is the most beneficial for our self when care for others.  We call into action our abilities and strengths to be used for the care of another. What parent doesn’t carry a burden for their child? What spouse doesn’t carry a burden for their beloved? What child, in their own way, doesn’t carry a burden for their mommy or daddy? Work is an unavoidable participation in a community. Can we not marvel at the great fruit of our labor after looking over the years of our many relationships? If relational love is work, and God is love, then who can deny that this work is truly the best kind of labor? 

Response from Kathleen Brouillette:

In his concept of work, as in every aspect of life, it seems that in our times man and his governments seek to remove God.  How can man see the value of work if not with its connection to his having been made in the image and likeness of God?  In each chapter this semester, we have seen man’s attempt to make himself a god, whether by imposing his power and will over others, relying on his own efforts to impose peace rather than on love and respect for his fellow man, failing to see one another as children of God, failing to respect the father figure and the priest as an example of spiritual fatherhood, or failing to understand the selfless giving that is love rather than the use of another person for one’s own fulfillment and gratification.  Mankind as a whole tends to see what is expedient rather than what is beautiful and true and good.

We have reduced work to a source of income. Governments have stepped in to take care of people far beyond their temporary times of need, rather than ensuring opportunities for them to achieve their own fulfillment as persons in the image and likeness of God. There is no incentive to work.  There is precious little joy in work, or in achievement.  In our times, the value of our work, as Dr. Toolin points out, is not in the person doing the work, but in the work being done – or in the amount of pay being received for it.  We take precious little pride or joy in our accomplishment, unless it is in the accomplishment of how much money we have made and how much “stuff” we have acquired.  

Isn’t it interesting that those who have the most money and the most “stuff” are, in too many cases, those who are least happy, least fulfilled, and least content.  They are seeking escape in drugs, alcohol, and sex, rather than taking joy in building families, giving good example, and making the world a better place – now and, as Dr. Toolin makes note, for those who will come after us.  

As Sean Hurt points out, we take no joy in our work in America, probably because our lives do not depend on what we do.  Our lifestyles are dependent upon it, but not our very lives.  Why work when there is no sense of working for something? Those to whom society looks in admiration are not the ones who are working hard to make a difference and lift man up, but rather the ones who score the most points or hit the most homeruns, and those in position to give out the most benefits and buy the most votes.  Few of these people are changing the world for mankind and for generations to follow, at least not in a positive and hope-giving way.

One polarization resulting from this attitude is reflected in a bumper sticker I recently saw:  “You are not entitled to what I earned.”  Surely we know how generous people are to others in need when disaster strikes, or when we share a common dilemma. We need to be careful of perpetuating a mindset of entitlement, which fails to inspire man to become his best self as a reflection of our very God.  A very different world might emerge if the Church formed us as partners with God in His work.




Response from Tommie Kim:

“Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done.” (Gen 2: 1-2)

I think the definition of “work” also evolved with time. In ancient times, the majority of work was physical labor.  Work was, in a certain sense, self-employed work and the reward was more directly related to how much effort was invested. A diligent farmer got more of what he needed. People were able to thank God for favorable weather that helped the farmers to bear more fruit.  Work was a basic means for living and there was a clear reason to thank God for “being able to work.”

In our times life has flourished with advanced technology and more conveniences.  Along with this advancement, the definition of work changed along with new values in life.  We live in a highly competitive environment where technology has replaced human physical labor.  As more significant income resulted from real estate and capital speculation, we have become impatient expecting immediate rewards and substantially more income than from the actual labor.  The subjective aspect of the enjoyment of the work hardly exists and it is all about making money to have enough to spend.  In the younger generation, it is only about making more money and so they find it very difficult to see why it is good to work in a way that improves the quality of the product or to know how to appreciate the work.  

Work is also involved in God’s command to procreate. What children see in the labor of their parents helps them understand the value of work in their own future lives. When children grow up witnessing the hard work of the parents to nourish them, children grow up appreciating life and they will carry this value into their own lives. Children who grow up with wealth and do not witness the work involved, take everything in life for granted.  Work and money are inseparable.  Money earned through work provides the necessities to live but there is more than just  financial income.  What is important is the fact that our work exists in harmony with the work of others.  We must be able to appreciate the entire workforce. 

“For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat.” (Ths II 3:10)