The Priestly Vocation

Then when the last rites are over, the priest will wish to commemorate his dead and to offer prayers for them. The time is unhappily over when the tombs of those who have departed were grouped round the church, to be remembered for many years by those who knew them. This practice was specially in accordance with the Church's spirit. Nowadays the growth of populations and the sanitary considerations have demanded the creation of large cemeteries outside the towns. All the more reason therefore that the clergy should continually call the attention of their parishioners to the Catholic doctrine of the Communion of Saints and to their duty to pray for those who have gone before them. This is one special feature of an Episcopal visitation, and the solemnity of the Bishop's act should serve to remind both pastor and people of the duty and consolation of offering prayers and masses for "those who have gone before us in the sign of faith, and sleep the sleep of peace."

CONFERENCE VIII

THE PRIEST'S PASTORAL WORK (continued)

THE LITURGY

ONE of the regrettable symptoms of present-day Catholicity in London is the decay of liturgy. It is true that we have in our midst now the great Cathedral of Westminster where the full liturgy of the Church is carried out daily with a completeness unknown in modern times; but it seems as though its existence has become a sort of centre of specialisation in that line, while one after another the parish churches have put their Sunday high mass into a secondary place, or abolished it altogether.

This is a great change on past traditions. At the beginning of the last century, when the modifying of the Penal Laws first made it possible, a great effort was made to have high mass in all the churches of London—then about eight in number. The memories of Webbe at the Sardinian Chapel, and Novello at the Portuguese Chapel became part of Catholic London; and in later times, though the singing at the various churches was of a type which we should not now approve—notably at Warwick Street, which gained for itself the title of the Shilling Opera, for all the best singers of the Italian Opera were to be heard there on Sundays—nevertheless, this indicated much care and attention in the carrying out of the liturgy at high mass. Vespers were also common as an afternoon service on a Sunday, which was probably in great part due to the thousands of French émigrés priests and laymen who were in London in the early years of the century; for in France the singing of vesper psalms has always been popular. Even in the country churches it was the rule, not the exception, to have a sung mass on Sundays. Here again one recalls a stamp of music with which we should not now be content—such as Mozart XII sung in unison, already alluded to in a former Conference—but it evidences considerable trouble to be able to have a sung mass.

We may well enquire what has caused the London tradition to change. One reason may possibly be that the increase of population has led to the people being more evenly distributed between the various masses, so that no single mass is the principal one in the sense that it used to be, and that seems expected in the liturgical rubrics. At present in many places the ten o'clock mass draws the largest congregation, and since the introduction of a twelve o'clock low mass, the high mass has been further depleted, so that the sermon, is often put at the former instead of the latter.

Another reason may be the coming of the tradition from Ireland. There are no people on the face of the earth to equal the Irish in their devotion to low mass, or in the number of the mass-going population. Dublin may be compared with any city in Catholic Europe, and for the number of people who go to mass on a Sunday—and even on a weekday—could put that city in the shade. But since the suppression of the liturgy by the Penal Laws, the Irish have never recovered their taste for high mass or other functions. Even at the Pro-Cathedral in Marlborough Street, Dublin, though the singing is excellent, the people do not take to high mass: they prefer to hear a low mass which may be going on at a side altar at the same time, and at its conclusion the church empties, though the high mass is not half over. Here in England we have not got the Irish devotion to low mass, and to us therefore the decay of high mass is a greater loss.

But probably the reason that would be given is that the stress of modern life has made people unwilling to face long services. No doubt there is some truth in the contention that they would not tolerate the length of services current last century. The great Requiem for Pius VI in 1799 lasted, together with the Dirge, from ten in the morning till nearly four in the afternoon: people certainly would not sit through that to-day. In much later times, and within living memory, the ordinary Sunday high mass, with sermon, lasted the greater part of two hours. But that is not so now. With the present length of sermon, and with simple music, the high mass need not last more than an hour and a quarter, and it may well be questioned whether people would really find this too long. The plea about length is heard perhaps more often from the priest, professing to voice the mind of the people, than from the people themselves.

In more outlying parts, it would seem that the regulation issued by Pius X insisting on the singing of the "proper"—introit, gradual, etc.—in some cases has had the opposite effect to that intended, and has caused many to give up the sung mass altogether; for although it may be urged that the "proper" can always be sung either in psalm tone, or at least monotone, in practice people will not attempt it; and indeed often when it is attempted, the difficulty of reading Latin to laymen who are not accustomed to it in a country where the language is so different in sound and rhythm produces a result the reverse of devotional.

Then again restrictions on the class of music from a false reading of the well-known Motu Proprio of Pius X has had the same effect. There is no document more frequently misquoted than this Motu Proprio. The lover of Gregorian music speaks as though universal plain chant was prescribed; the admirers of Palestrina quote it in favour of polyphonic music; while those who are opposed to the masses of Mozart and Haydn, once so popular, appeal to the Motu Proprio as though it were a condemnation of this whole class of music. In point of fact if anyone will actually read the text, he will find it most broad in outlook. Undoubtedly the Pope extols plain chant as pre-eminently the music of the Church and calls for its restoration; but he also speaks highly of polyphonic music; and with respect to modern music, he only stipulates that it should not be theatrical in character. Those who are familiar with the very light and trumpery music in vogue in the Italian churches—which is the instance actually quoted by the Pope—will readily understand this restriction. That it condemns masses such as Haydn's Imperial may perhaps be fairly argued; but most of Mozart's masses would seem to come within the scope of what is allowed. A possible exception is the well-known No. XII, which many maintain to have been written not by Mozart at all, but by his pupils. At any rate it is of a distinctly more operatic character than the other Mozart masses. But even if Mozart and Haydn are excluded, there are plenty of simple masses often sung which are entirely within the line drawn. Indeed, on the important point emphasised by the Pope, of the words being sung so that the listeners can follow them, music of this kind is superior to polyphonic, in which the syllables in the different voices so overlap that it is often impossible to follow the words. It is true indeed that these masses sometimes include the "needless repetition" of the words of the liturgy which the Pope condemns; especially in the Kyrie, where the number of invocations is never the proper nine, and is simply adapted to the exigences of the music; and in the concluding phases of the Gloria and Credo, in which the Amen is often repeated many times; in the beginning of the Gloria also, or in the Sanctus or elsewhere some repetition is found; but as a general rule in the masses we have had in this country the repetitions have been less pronounced than is often implied, and a good many masses are practically free from them. The abuse current in Italy of having all the chief parts of the Gloria—the Gratias agimus, the Domine Deus, etc.—as separate pieces which is condemned by the Pope has never found its way into England. 53

Then with respect to details, although the ideal put forward is for a choir of men and boys, it was apparently not intended to exclude women altogether: it was only meant to stipulate that they should not be "admitted to the choir," which according to the authorised explanation, is complied with provided that they are grouped apart and not mixed with the men. Indeed, solos are expressly allowed, provided that they do not monopolise the singing. The chief instrument is to be the organ or harmonium, but with leave of the Bishop other wind instruments may be added on special occasions. The only prohibition is against instrumenta percussionis, specified as pianoforte, drums, kettledrums, cymbals, triangles, etc.—a list which is in itself a sufficient commentary on the music which it is desired to exclude.

All this seems surely broad enough to bring the sung mass within the capability of most missions. Nevertheless, there is much in favour of a return to plain chant. The old idea which was involved in Bishop Douglass's description of a Requiem a century ago that "the Responses were in plain chant except the Libera, which was in music," calls for combating, for Gregorian Chant is in the highest sense music. The chief reason that people do not always take to it is that it requires a certain training to appreciate it. If plain chant is to be restored, the first step is to train not only the clergy, as is already being done, but more importantly still, the schoolmasters. Recently the writer heard a high mass in a country church sung in plain chant by the school children, who had been trained by their master, and not only was the effect most devotional, but the congregation was already beginning to join in the singing—a consummation devoutly to be wished. If this could be done regularly, we should perhaps see our way to the restoration of the liturgy in popular estimation, and an incidental advantage not to be lost sight of would be that it would limit the duration of the services. 54

The case of Vespers is different from that of sung mass. It was never meant for an evening service of the modern type, and used to be sung early in the afternoon. From the time when vernacular evening services began to come in—which was about the middle of last century 55—the popularity of Vespers has steadily declined. There are now but few churches where they are ever attempted; and such services as Tenebræ in Holy Week or the Dirge on All Souls' Day seem to be almost limited to cathedral churches. This is of course to be regretted, and it is probable that a good deal more might be done to revive the singing of Vespers; but it may be doubted whether it would be really popular in England as a regular thing. 56

Now a priest should love the liturgy, both for his own spiritual life and for that of his people; and likewise for the outward glory of God, for it is the official life of the Church. The Puseyites boasted to Cardinal Wiseman that great credit was due to them for reintroducing high mass (as they considered it). The Cardinal replied that still greater credit was due to Catholics who had never lost it. A priest should be educated in the liturgical sense that he in turn may educate his people. If he has little taste for liturgy he is wanting in the fulness of his vocation. It is certainly not an over-statement that much more trouble might be taken with the liturgical services than is often the case. To learn to be at home on the sanctuary and to move about quietly and in a dignified way requires a little effort, but presents no great difficulty. Yet often we see it far otherwise. So, also, every priest should be able at least to chant the prayers in a proper tone, and this will make a great difference to the general effect. If he is musical, so much the better. Many priests are not, and for them it involves a good deal of trouble and will be only moderately successful; but it is hard to believe that the prayers we sometimes hear represent really the best that the priest can do. An unmusical priest may be excused for finding the Preface and Pater Noster a difficulty, but it should not be insuperable.

Although, however, a high mass, or at least Missa Cantata, may be regarded as the ideal even for small missions, there are undoubtedly many in which this is impossible. In such cases the chief Sunday low mass can be and often is performed with solemnity—such as the lighting of the "sixes" on the altar, and the number of servers increased—which may be very devotional. And it may be accompanied by singing, provided this is in Latin. 57 And in large churches, all the Sunday masses should be celebrated as solemnly as possible. Let it be remembered that many persons always hear one of the low masses only. For this reason it is desirable that at least the more essential notices—announcing coming feasts, or fast days, or special services—should be read at every mass, as well as the Epistle and Gospel of the Sunday. Where possible, even a short five minutes' sermon serves a very good purpose. The whole service can be made devotional, and the large Communion makes itself necessarily so. The well-known description of Father Dalgairns, in his book on Holy Communion, is worth quoting as illustrating this fact:—

"Enter into a London chapel on a Sunday when not even the few attempts at magnificence which our poverty permits us are displayed. Let it be in the depths of the City, in an old-fashioned chapel, with Protestant pews. Here the church has no beauty that one should desire her. No organ peals, and no sweet-toned choir chants. Yet there is a marvel which kings and prophets thirsted to see and did not see. They throng to the altar; the priest in a low voice repeats the blessed words and gives to each his God. No saints are there, but good ordinary Christians, fearing God in the midst of the world; some are even great sinners who have just been cleansed in the sacrament of Penance. The same scene goes on all over even this heretical land. No glorious bells ring out over the length and breadth of England, from spire and steeple, to announce the adorable sacrifice, but in our great wicked towns you may count the communicants by tens of thousands. In Birmingham and Sheffield, Liverpool and Manchester, they are crowding to receive their Lord. The same blessed work is going on in lowly country missions scattered up and down the country, where a few worshippers still congregate to worship the God of their fathers, in venerable chapels under the roof of Catholic gentlemen, the descendants of martyrs, where the Blessed Sacrament has found a refuge through centuries of persecution." 58

But the priest will have to conduct many services which are only partly liturgical, or not liturgical at all. Of such a nature is the ordinary Sunday evening service at most of our churches, or the weekday Benedictions, meetings of Confraternities, etc. Here again there is room for improvement in the manner they are conducted. Many a priest "gabbles" the prayers—especially the Hail Marys of the Rosary—in a manner which makes them quite inaudible, and is a real hindrance to the people joining. It conveys the idea that he is discharging a duty for the sake of his people, without any idea of praying himself. Yet surely the prayers which are good enough for them are good enough for him; and in truth there is no more moving or devotional sight than that of a priest praying together with his people. The practice of utilising the time during Benediction to say Office is regrettable if only for this reason—that it destroys the community of prayer between priest and people, and he loses the grace of the Congregational Act. At the Eucharistic Congress in 1908, when the people assembled at each side of the street in their thousands, one of the most touching sights was the arrival of groups or congregations led by their priests, reciting the Rosary or other devotions or singing hymns with him. No more vivid representation could be imagined of the good shepherd leading his flock, as is customary in southern or mountainous countries, which formed one of the best known of the parables of our Lord.

There is certainly a need for more variety in our popular evening services: people get tired of the perpetual Rosary, sermon and Benediction; but until something better is forthcoming, we must make the best of what we have. Evening services are comparatively new in other countries besides England, as formerly there was no satisfactory means of lighting the churches, and there is now room for their development. In some smaller churches Night Prayers are an agreeable variety: the Curé of Ars used to say them with his people every evening. There is something to be said also for the old English devotion of the Jesus Psalter; and in Lent, Stations of the Cross are usually popular. But on the whole, there is a want of suitable variety in the first part of the service. For the concluding part, nothing could be more beautiful than the Benediction service, which has crystallised itself into a definite form for this country.

Finally, it is worth while to put in a word in favour of an effort to keep the church open all day. The importance of this practice has been emphasised not only in our own Synods of Westminster, 59 but also in the new Codex, 60 which orders it for at least several hours each day. With us there are sometimes difficulties in the way, especially when the presbytery is at a distance from the church. Sometimes, however, these difficulties are unduly magnified. Even the danger of occasionally losing a few shillings from the collection boxes would seem to be not too great a price for satisfying the devotion of so many who long to visit the Blessed Sacrament from time to time. A Catholic church should have as its characteristic that it is alive; and even when no service is going on, the daily life of the church shows itself. Time was, and not so many years ago, when a church left open would run the risk of being maliciously desecrated: and that is probably in part at least responsible for the bad tradition in some of our churches in this respect; but it is to be hoped that we have got past that danger by now.

CONFERENCE IX

THE PRIEST'S PASTORAL WORK (continued)

PREACHING

LET us begin this Conference by propounding a question for consideration. The preaching of the Word of God is a sacred part of the priest's pastoral work, and not the least sacred part of it. Yet the average priest speaks of it as though it were a task irksome in itself, to be got through somehow or other, and always a nuisance. If anyone is available and is kind enough to replace him in the pulpit, or if he gets off by the timely arrival of a Bishop's pastoral, he is unreservedly pleased. It is true that he is usually a hard-worked man, and that if he gets off any of his work, it is a relief to him; but in the case of a sermon he is far more relieved than in any other case. Does this look as if he appreciated at its true value the pastoral work of preaching the Word of God?

In order to get a true answer to this question, we shall probably not be far wrong in seeking it in the personal history of the individual priest as preacher, to see whether he has imperceptibly learnt an inadequate view of his office.

It is hardly an exaggeration to say that his early sermons were simply a struggle against breaking down. He was naturally nervous the first few times that he found himself in so novel a position, standing before a congregation all listening to his words. In order to nerve himself up for the occasion, he has taken no small trouble in writing out in full his discourse and committing it to memory. His chief anxiety is lest his memory should fail him—which sooner or later it is sure to do, not once, but often, and he is anxious as to what will happen the first time that this shall occur. He gets through his first sermon, and is then anxious about his secondhand so on. Very soon he finds that it is practically impossible for him to write out all his sermons, and he contents himself with an analysis; for as time goes on, he is acquiring a certain facility in expressing himself ex tempore, and the frequency of his sermons is gradually curing him of nervousness. Perhaps the first time that he lost the thread of his discourse he covered his difficulty better than he might have hoped, and this helps to give him confidence. Then sooner or later it will occur that some unexpected pressure of work—a sick call on a Saturday night or a Sunday morning, let us say—prevents him from preparing his sermon at all in a systematic way, and he finds himself face to face with the duty of preaching with only a few minutes to collect his thoughts. With commendable trust in Providence, he says a fervent prayer for Divine assistance, boldly ascends the pulpit, and perhaps surprises himself at the facility with which he discharges his task. Would that he always bore in mind that if our Heavenly Father helps us in a special way when we have to speak for Him and His kingdom on the pressure of an emergency, this does not dispense us from using ordinary means on a future occasion when the emergency has passed away. It was for such occasions—when the Apostles were to be delivered up to the hands of their enemies—and for those occasions only that He told them to "take no thought of how or what to speak; for it shall be given you in that hour what to speak." 61

If we may venture to give a natural explanation, it would be that we all have a certain class of thoughts in our mind which, under the influence of sudden or strong stimulus, take shape in words. If we trust to these time after time, we shall, to say the least, lay ourselves open to great monotony and self-repetition in our preaching. And this is what often occurs as a young priest gradually gains confidence, and begins to think that he can preach without serious or long preparation.

The above description might be continued, but enough has been said for the present purpose, which is to call attention to this point. At the beginning the priest's preaching has been a struggle to get through without breaking down. When he has been sufficiently long at it for this danger to have passed away, he still has the practical feeling—his aim is to fill up the requisite amount of time with respectably good matter, so as to discharge his duty. It has hardly at all come before him in the light of a privilege to speak the Word of God, a source of grace to himself as well as to others, an expression of his own spiritual thoughts put forth for the benefit and instruction of those entrusted to his pastoral charge; and this is to a large extent responsible for the want of fervour and of soul and interest in his sermons.

It is always easier to state an evil than to suggest a remedy; but it is something towards the desired end if we are able to diagnose the true cause of our difficulty. The conclusion urged is that it is not enough to insist on an elaborate direct preparation; on a scientific knowledge of the way to order a discourse; on rules of elocution and rhetoric; highly desirable as some of these may be. Still less would one ask a priest to write and learn all his sermons, which even if practically possible, is not in any way desirable. The true remedy is rather to teach our young priests the spiritual side of preaching, to train them to look on the sermon as part of their pastoral office. If this view is planted in their minds at the outset of their priestly career, it will grow rapidly and strongly, as by actual contact with their parishioners they feel their own power for good in the pulpit, and see before their eyes their people growing and living on the strength of words heard in their sermons. It is this consciousness which will elevate the duty in their minds from an irksome task to that of one of the most privileged of their pastoral duties.