Catholic Beauty

I received this from another Latinate counterrevolutionary yesterday. It is part of a sermon on Pentecost by Fr. Anthony Brankin of St. Thomas More parish in Chicago. Fr. Brankin has been pastor there for 14 years. Cardinal Bernardin gave them permission about 10 years ago for an indult Tridentine Mass. About 300 people attend it every week.

“It is my firm conviction that the Catholic beauty that has been part of all of our lives for so long has not been accomplished just to adorn our buildings or to fill up some empty spaces. I am convinced that a wordless communication takes place between God and us—through the medium of visuals and aurals.
And nowhere is this seen more clearly than in this so-called Latin Mass—the words of which are really secondary when you think about it. It may be in Latin, but that Latin is either whispered or chanted—and only sometimes clearly spoken in a language that very few of us understand well. And yet because of the movements, the vestments, the candles, the orientation, the Gregorian chant, the hymns, could anyone deny that God is speaking and that his people are understanding?
Or have our hearts grown so cold and stony that what we see and hear at Mass— unless it is in baby English—says nothing to us? Have we become so modern that unless it is written down in a brochure—with simple words and phrases—we can understand nothing? Have we become so obtuse that nothing can pepenetrate our hearts unless it looks like a newspaper or a magazine?
Think of all our ancestors over all these years who saw the Beauties of the Catholic Faith and came thereby to know the True God —who heard the sublimities of Catholic music and understood exactly what was being preached without needing a line-by-line translation.”

To read the whole sermon click below.

Pentecost
Today, of course, is Pentecost, and it is a day of special meditation on the third person of the Blessed Trinity, the Holy Spirit.
I remember back in the seminary— when the Holy Spirit was often enough simply referred to as “the Spirit”. I always personally balked at talking about “the Spirit” without specifying “Holy”, because it seemed to me to be the perfect modernist hedge against believing in the objective reality of the supernatural—at least in regards to the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity.
In other words to say “the Spirit” moves us or “the Spirit” is present among us could just as easily be meant to understand “School Spirit”, “Class Spirit” or attitude or spunk—whatever. “Spirit” could mean anything or nothing.
It could be used by believers and non-believers alike—so vague and abstract that it could be predicated of aany meaning. It is the perfect modernist hedge.
I will always say the “Holy Spirit” because to say “Holy” leaves no doubt that the reference is to one single Person—who by definition and Revelation—is the Person of the Blessed Trinity—who—on the Feast of Pentecost—the fiftieth Day after Easter—descended upon the Apostles and Mary in the form of tongues of fire and drove them out into the streets in an explosion of faith, courage, wisdom and zeal where they preached to tens of thousands and baptized literally thousands.
One of the beautiful miracles that took place was that while the Apostles were speaking only Aramaic, everyone else in the streets and in the marketplace—no matter what language they spoke—understood what was being preached to them—they heard the same words—the same message.
This is what is called true “Tongues” or “Glossalalia”—where everyone understands the words that are spoken even though they are spoken in an unfamiliar tongue.
Now the modern version of “Tongues”— seen pretty commonly among Pentecostals— is really just some sort of strange ecstatic utterance. It isn’t really a language—but just some sort of babbling noises that someone else in the crowd will try to interpret.
But this is not what happened at that first Pentecost—for there was one language with one message and thousands of different receptacles.
Of course the message was this: That there is One God—that Jesus is His Son and that He so loved us that He came down from heaven suffered and died for our sins and rose from the dead promising that same eternal life to those of us who would believe in Him— that Baptism is the means of being re-born in Him and living a whole new way of Life. That is the message that every one heard.
Now it is commonplace to say that the gift of tongues ended in the earliest days of the Church—that “tongues” had been the Divine means of kind-of kick-starting the spreading of the Faith. But, you know, if you think about it—the Church still uses a form of tongues—by which millions everyday come into the Faith or maintain their Faith—and that form of tongues in its second generation understanding is Beauty—the beauty of Catholic Art—the beauty of Catholic music, Catholic architecture, catholic ritual and ceremony.
What other religion is as famous for it art and music and churches as the Catholic religion is? —None.
In fact, most of the history of Western Art and music for the last two thousand years is the History of Catholic Art and Music—either as a direct result of the Catholic Faith or as an antagonistic response to the Faith.
Now the secular modernists would have us believe that all of the great artistic achievements for the last 2000 years were accomplished by geniuses independently of any belief— that they were simply hired by luxurious bishops to decorate their halls or provide them with concerts.
No, the greatest of these geniuses were believers. Michelangelo was incredibly worried about the salvation of his soul—that he either portrayed in paint his very soul or poured out his concern in sonnets. Bernini went to Mass and Communion every day. Fra Angelico and Vivaldi were priests—Bruckner and Gounod were parish organists!
They did what they did not because they were hired to do so—but because they believed; and God used them—their wordless pictures and statues—their musical notes and sounds—to spread the Message—the gospel—without being hindered by different languages—to hear the voice of God without being bogged down by words.
It is my firm conviction that the Catholic beauty that has been part of all of our lives for so long has not been accomplished just to adorn our buildings or to fill up some empty spaces. I am convinced that a wordless communication takes place between God and us—through the medium of visuals and aurals.
And nowhere is this seen more clearly than in this so-called Latin Mass—the words of which are really secondary when you think about it. It may be in Latin, but that Latin is either whispered or chanted—and only sometimes clearly spoken in a language that very few of us understand well. And yet because of the movements, the vestments, the candles, the orientation, the Gregorian chant, the hymns, could anyone deny that God is speaking and that his people are understanding?
Or have our hearts grown so cold and stony that what we see and hear at Mass— unless it is in baby English—says nothing to us? Have we become so modern that unless it is written down in a brochure—with simple words and phrases—we can understand nothing? Have we become so obtuse that nothing can penetrate our hearts unless it looks like a newspaper or a magazine?
Think of all our ancestors over all these years who saw the Beauties of the Catholic Faith and came thereby to know the True God —who heard the sublimities of Catholic music and understood exactly what was being preached without needing a line-by-line translation.
Think of us who often enough couldn’t make heads or tails out of the sermon, but could still understand the Word of God when seen in a gesture or statue or when heard in the notes of a motet.
I suppose we can think of Pentecost as something that happened once long ago to the Apostles and “tongues” as something that took place in Jerusalem 2000 years ago and never took place again—but I cannot help but remember that God is not limited by anything—either by foreign languages or printed words. He proved it on Pentecost when he revealed Himself in the gift of tongues. He has proven it everyday since in the gifts to the world of Catholic Art and Music and Ceremony.
That is our “tongues”; and maybe it might be a little less miraculous than the one that was witnessed in ancient Jerusalem, but it is—I would claim—just as effective.
Fr. Anthony J. Brankin