Towards a Theology of Inspiration: Part 1

Earlier this year, I was responsible for coordinating the Liturgy of a major celebration marking a 100 years of Loreto education here in my home town of Adelaide. Nearly 3000 people attended and celebrated Eucharist together.

I am happy to say all went well – and afterwards – in the Vesting Room – I had a couple of minutes with the Archbishop and Vicar General. The tone of the conversation was congratulatory and relaxed. I mentioned to the Archbishop my studies in Liturgy and he casually suggested that I perhaps look at a theology of participation.

It’s not every day you have a conversation with your local Archbishop – so I have not forgotten our conversation – nor his suggestion.

Of course - the suggestion of a theology of participation is not really surprising coming from a Catholic Archbishop [or any Catholic for that matter with a passing interest in Catholic Liturgy].

The Second Vatican Council spoke very explicitly in Sacrosanctum Concillium 14 for ‘full, active and conscious participation’ of the gathered faithful in the Liturgy.

This has been a catch cry of many liturgists and musicians in the post-conciliar period of renewal – in their attempt to galvanise the assembly so that sung prayer [and Liturgy in its completeness] may be fully experienced and participated in by all.

I have, for some time now, agreed with this idea of ‘full, active and conscious participation’ as a goal [but also a starting point] to aspire to when charged with the responsibility of ministerial leadership of sung prayer. I have presented numerous workshops and seminars where - from the outset – I have said that it is our aim as Catholics [in concordance with the ideas presented in Sacrosanctum Concilium] to participate fully. Holding this up as the ideal and ultimate liturgical aim – we are somehow encouraged to work towards this with conviction and gusto.

For me, things have changed.

What does participation actually mean or imply? ‘Full, active and conscious participation’ seems to imply that everybody can participate…that everyone wants to participate…and that everyone should participate. Does this actually happen? Is it the reality? I will return to these important questions in greater detail in Part 2 of this blog-article.

We need to put such language as ‘full, active and conscious participation’ into a historical perspective and understand what its authors were trying to convey in 1963 when it was written.

The desire for such enthusiastic participation – was [and perhaps still is] a response to the changes in the use of the vernacular for the celebration of the Liturgy. Up to that point in time - all members of the faithful had experienced Liturgy in Latin - and one would question to what extent participation was ‘full, active and conscious’.

Liturgist Gabe Huck argues that there was a distinct lack of participation by the assembly in the pre-Vatican II Church. In an article from the National Catholic Reporter dated January 16 2004, he puts forward the argument that there was ‘the quiet anonymity of the old rite’ where one was ‘left alone to pursue your own prayerful thoughts’.

Hardly a picture of what we might consider ‘full, active and conscious participation’. [!]

Similarly, Bill Huebsch from his 1997 book ‘Vatican II in Plain English’ says this about participation [or lack of] in the pre-Vatican II Church:

‘The Latin made the Mass seem to belong to someone else. It was the bishop’s or, more likely the Pope’s Mass and we were guests there, watching them do it. We “attended” Mass, more than we “celebrated” it then.’

And then later, he continues:

‘There were no missalettes then. No song books. Nothing in the pews to help us understand.’

All of this paints a fairly grim picture of the participation factor in the Tridentine Rite – and perhaps explains why such a big deal was made of the clarion call of ‘full, active and conscious participation’ by the Council Fathers which coincided with the massive changes that came out of the Second Vatican Council.

It was a concerted effort to reverse past liturgical practice – and – this catch-cry, which was part of a larger, theologically stellar document, acted as a force of propulsion into a new age…an age of participation.

Things have changed.

I am no longer convinced that a theology of participation is a viable starting point for our discussions where liturgical music is concerned. While participation may be our ultimate goal – something needs to take place before this happens.

And it is this particular starting point [before we even begin to talk about participation] that I think is missing in a major way.

To say to people ‘Ok everyone – our aim is to participate fully in the liturgy’ is not enough. People will need to want to participate. They need to be inspired to do so. Then – sure! – they will participate…but not before. Participation is not spontaneous! It doesn’t just happen! It needs a significant trigger!

What I believe is absent in all of this discussion is the development of a theology not of participation – but of inspiration.

One only needs to look at numbers of Church participants [!] on any given Sunday as a guide for levels of inspiration in our Churches. Parishioners are voting with their feet! And have been for some time – and will continue to do so!

So the need for action is crucial.

Here ends Part 1 of ‘Towards a Theology of Inspiration’. Part 2 will be posted next week.