Devil on My Shoulder

“You’re going to screw this up. You’re going to screw this up. Here it comes, get ready, you’re going to screw this up.”

The world of internal dialogue is a strange, strange place. Conversations that seem to last several minutes occur within the span of just a few seconds. I found myself in this world on Sunday. As I turned to the altar to chant the Lenten Preface, I preface I have sung many, many times, I heard those words. “You’re going to screw this up. You’re going to screw this up. Here it comes, get, you’re going to screw this up.”

I am not a trained singer and am, at best, a passable chanter. I don’t practice as I should, which is part of my fault, but the greater fault lies in vanity. I want to sound good. I want to be good. The voice in my head was telling me that I am not good and I am going to mess this preface up. Because I allowed it, the voice was right. I missed my note on “through Jesus Christ our Lord.” A passing error for most ears in the congregation, but an irritating and infuriating grievous for mine.  

I’d like to think that I don’t often have the cartoonish experience of the angel and demon on my shoulders, but the scenario is taken seriously by the saints of the Church, and therefore should be taken seriously by me. St Ignatius of Loyola writes that it is

 “common for the evil spirit to cause anxiety and sadness, and to create obstacles based on false reasoning, through preventing the soul from making further progress. It is characteristic of the good spirit to give courage and strength, consolation, tears, inspiration, and peace, making things easy and removing all obstacles, so that the soul may make further progress in good works.”

Very literally, at the altar of God, I heard two voices. One was creating anxiety by preying on a weakness and inadequate preparation and the other was encouraging me to trust in experience and to have confidence in what I have to offer. I listened to the wrong voice.

We might assume that the liturgy is our refuge from evil thoughts and distraction but that would be a dangerous assumption. The liturgy is oftentimes where those thoughts intensify. Remember the demonic Screwtape advising his nephew Wormwood on how to sabotage his new assignment: “All you then have to do is keep out of his mind the question ‘If I, being what I am, can consider that I am in some sense a Christian, why should the different vices of those people in the next pew prove that their religion is mere hypocrisy and convention?’ You may ask whether it is possible to keep such an obvious thought from occurring even to a human mind. It is, Wormwood, it is! Handle him properly and simply won’t come into his head.”

In the Philokalia, the wisdom of the Eastern Orthodox fathers advise us to reflect on what happened when we listen to the wrong voice. During temptation our intellect is clouded and we do not see what is happening to us. Upon reflection (self-examination) we are to retrace where we gave in to those thoughts and where the weakness lies. And when we find ourselves hearing those words again, we rebuke them and make them obedient to Christ.

As for me, my weakness was in pride. I was more focused on being seen as good than I was offering my prayer, as imperfect as it is, with my own voice. God wants our best and not our boast. He wants our prayer and not our performance.

When I hear that voice again telling me that I’m going to screw this up, I will turn my hear to the other voice telling me that I can’t screw it up. This is the Sacrifice of the Mass. This is the offering of Jesus Christ.

A New Subdeacon

Once upon a time, the path to the priesthood took a more graded route. There were actually seven steps of ordination that led one to the priesthood. The first four steps of ordination were called minor orders. They were, in order: porter, lector, exorcist, and acolyte. The final three were major orders and consisted of subdeacon, deacon, and priest. Included in the logic, I presume, is a pilgrimage toward the altar. The porter unlocks the door, the lector reads Holy Scripture in public worship, the exorcist casts out the demons, and the acolyte serves at the altar. One can see an eastward progression. I always like to tell our newest acolytes that once upon a time, they would have ranked higher than those casting out demons!

In 1972, Pope Paul VI abolished the subdiaconate as a minor order. He did not abolish the subdiaconate per se as he allowed the role to continue but not as a part of ordained ministry. The subdeacon often exists now as a liturgical anachronism. If you want to have a solemn high mass, in the way it used to be done, you would need a subdeacon.

According to his Motu Proprio, Pope Paul’s rationale is based on the work of Vatican II, specifically the constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium and this paragraph in particular:

“Mother Church earnestly desires that all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy. Such participation by the Christian people as "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a redeemed people (1 Pet. 2:9; cf. 2:4-5), is their right and duty by reason of their baptism.

In the restoration and promotion of the sacred liturgy, this full and active participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit; and therefore pastors of souls must zealously strive to achieve it, by means of the necessary instruction, in all their pastoral work.” (Paragraph 14)

In eliminating the ordained roles of porter, lector, exorcist, acolyte, and subdeacon, Pope Paul VI wished to elevate the lay roles of reader and acolyte, which would serve many of the same functions as the subdeacon. While the minor orders haven’t been an issue for Anglicanism, this papal act did place greater focus on the laity’s participation in the liturgy and not just their participation from the pew. Acolytes and lectors are now drawn from all walks of lay life and not just those preparing to serve the Church in the ministerial priesthood.

But I think we should, as best we can, resurrect the minor orders. I don’t mean they should return as ordained ministries, but I think their roles should take on a more prominent nature in the life of the parish.

Today we welcomed a new subdeacon to our common life. Our regular (and excellent) subdeacon is currently in Costa Rica on a mission trip. Subdeacons don’t exactly grow on trees. In my opinion, the liturgical work is more complex than that of the celebrant. There is a lot to do and a lot to remember. And since subdeacons only serve when there is both a deacon and celebrant, it’s not as if you can get your liturgical reps in during the week. It has to be a Solemn High Mass.

Our newest subdeacon has served as an acolyte and has graduated to thurifer. In our sacristy, you have to be able to hold a candle before you can swing the smoke. He’s also a normal, All-American 17-year-old young man. He did an excellent job and I look forward to his continue liturgical maturation and devotion.

This development and devotion are greatly aided by the availability of liturgical ministry. Instead of the subdiaconate stifling full and active participation in the liturgy, it has opened it up.

I don’t know for sure because I’m not with him, but my hunch is he has talked to a lot of people about what happened today. He’s talked to a lot of people about what happened at church. In the best and most Christian sense of the word he, and all our wonderful liturgical ministers, have pride in their offering. It is for the greater glory of God and as an adornment to His Kingdom. And most importantly, they know and pray the mass.

This young 17-year-old may never be an ordained priest and that is just fine. Because he is already an active member of the priesthood of all believers.

Occurrence

The problem with using one's phone as an alarm clock is that the first things you see when you wake up are notifications. It is indeed a good and holy practice to eliminate notifications from our smartphones, but it’s so very tempting to hit the button to end the alarm and then open our email and see what will cause alarm. Before I get out of the bed, there is a digital map of what needs to be done in the next 12 hours. Emails, calendar notifications, texts, etc. One of the most jarring realities of a parish priest (and this is not limited to priests) is that it never, ever ends. Sunday is always barreling down like the Niagara. Crisis never comes at a convenient time. Otherwise, it would be called an appointment. There is no use whining about this, for this is our life. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. Our response isn’t so much time management, as it is triage. What is most important right now?

Liturgically, this is called occurrence. Whenever there are two (or more) liturgical celebrations on the same day, they are said to be in occurrence. It is like walking into the sacristy and seeing multiple notifications of various important things that must be remembered, celebrated, and observed. For instance, today, February 24, is the Feast of St Matthias and a Lenten Ember Day. In the past, there were rules and even a chart to help you discern what to do and what not to do. Some occurrences can be quite complicated and takes almost as much time to figure out what to celebrate than it does to actually celebrate it! Feasts and observances had categories like 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th class. Double, semi-double, and simple. Privileged ferias, ferias, and the like. St Matthias is a 2nd Class Feast and Lenten Ember Days are 2nd Class Ferias. In 1969, the revision of the Roman Catholic Calendar greatly simplified the process and removed the classes and replaced them with the taxonomy of solemnities, feasts, and memorials. When Rome sneezes, everyone else catches a cold, so we don’t often hear of the older way of keeping time. I am a citizen of both times, which is often confusing and perhaps always unwise, but I find great spiritual benefit in the old ways.

Seemingly obsolete liturgical conundrums like occurrence (and its cousin concurrence) speak of the importance of making distinctions and priorities. It is a reminder that the day is constantly full of demands and challenges, but there is a way forward. And each of those demands and challenges is, in some way, a gift to be received with the expectation that we will be drawn closer to God and deeper in love with our brothers and sisters. I could have scrapped the Lenten Ember Day (doesn’t everyone?) and just celebrated the Feast of St Matthias, but I would be the poorer for it. It’s like that old illustration of having to fill a bucket with rocks of all sizes. Unless you put the big rocks in the bucket first, you’ll never be able to fit them all in. The smaller rocks are able to find their way through the small spaces and fill them. They fit there. If we learn how to recognize and keep the big things, the smaller things will find their place and purpose and they all will fit.

In case you’re wondering, as I understand the chart, we say the office of St Matthias and commemorate with a collect the Saturday Ember Day. For the Mass, we offer the mass for St Matthias, but commemorate the Ember Day and use the Ember Day Gospel for the Last Gospel. Commemorations include saying the collect, secret, and postcommunion of the lesser second feast/observance after the collect, secret, and postcommunion of the first.

This is a lot to organize, but I think it’s worth it.

And of course, this morning, my server had to leave after Morning Prayer. As Saturdays are our least attended days, I was alone and could not say mass. And with an interior smile, put all the things away that had been carefully prepared.