An illustraion of design and symbolism
Steve Skojec, at Inside Catholic, waxes philosophical about coffee and about a lesson Catholics might take away from the effort needed to brew a genuinely enjoyable cup of joe:
Like coffee, though certainly in a much more profound way, exquisite liturgy can only be experienced if one follows all of the necessary steps. Accepting a rubrics-optional approach to liturgy is akin to drinking inferior coffee simply to get the caffeine. Bad liturgy is endured by the faithful because they need the Eucharist — but many have never known what it is to really be delighted by it, to savor it, to sample its subtle complexity, to experience worship that is truly excellent and uplifting. Alas, the person who has never experienced good liturgy has no basis upon which to recognize poor liturgy; he just doesn’t know what he’s missing.
I don’t mean to belittle the Mass by comparing it to something profane, but I believe that on a simplistic level the analogy stands. Some of the most striking supernatural lessons are learned in the most ordinary ways. God infused things like the coffee bean, the grape, and the grain of wheat with a hidden nature that can only be experienced through something formulaic, even rigid. Whether roasting and brewing coffee, fermenting wine, or baking bread, man acts as a sort of priest over nature as he carefully oversees their transformation. Thus, if he is properly disposed, he will have an insight into the supernatural role of the ordained priest who consecrates bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Our Lord, thereby allowing us to experience and to adore His hidden nature.
God imbues a sacramental order into the things of this world to help us grasp these higher concepts. In writing down the detailed instructions that would help my sister-in-law make good coffee, I became aware of the presence of implicit ritual — ritual that was not the result of desire or personal taste, but of necessity.
We know that the Mass is — or should be — infused with ritual and deep symbolism, but what we perhaps don’t always realize or do well is understand that it’s not just the Mass which must be approached with this mentality of, and appreciation for, ritual and symbolism in mind. The natural world, and its orders and operations, are likewise infused, since both they and the Mass share a common origin and designer.
In a bizarre sort of way, I’m reminded of Gil Grissom, of CSI fame:
He was raised Roman Catholic. He told Sara Sidle in a season seven episode that, while he is not really a practicing Catholic anymore, he practices a sort of “secular Catholicism, which implicates ritualizing aspects of everyday life and then viewing them with a spiritual intensity they would not otherwise possess.”
I think it actually goes deeper than that; those objects do in fact possess that sort of spiritual intensity — everything does, really. It’s tapping into that reality that’s the difficulty. And this is perhaps doubly true if one likewise has difficulty tapping into the ritual and symbolism of the Mass to begin with.
I confess to having that problem, actually. Perhaps it’s a vestige of having grown up, at least in part, within the Eastern (Ukrainian) Rite, but I find the typical Roman Mass to be a bit of a struggle. Every detail — the vestments worn (or not worn) by those on the altar, the direction the congregation faces, the immersion (or non-immersion) of the Host in the Precious Blood, the level (or lack) of participation by the people in the liturgy, the presence (or absence) of intentional candles, the Creed that is spoken — has a purpose, meaning, and symbolism. The performance of each ritual aspect of the Mass, through these and other details, points us onward to the next ritual aspect, and the deeper truth behind. Christ speaks to us through all these things.
The Roman Mass tends to lack some of these things, in whole or in part. Vestments are plainer. Candles tend to be reserved solely for the altar and the tabernacle. The Host and Blood are separate. The congregation doesn’t necessarily face East. The Creed (at least in Canada) isn’t typically the Nicene Creed. And participation in the liturgy is usually relegated to the Our Father and sung responses. That’s not to say that Christ doesn’t speak through all these things…but neither does He seem to speak as loudly through them. And I find I struggle to maintain that sense of ritual and symbolism without occasionally dipping a toe back into the Eastern waters, so to speak. To maintain that sense of ritual and symbolism in my day-to-day life is even more a struggle.
But it seems to be, to me, the necessary and sensible thing to do, even so.
