Cosmos-Liturgy-Sex

Sandro Magister’s latest article focuses on a brand new Catholic church constructed in Rome, and designed by American architect Richard Meier. Magister begins his article discussing the reason for the church’s construction–it was for the 2000 Jubilee Year. He discusses its symbolism–the church is supposed to represent the bark of St. Peter with three main sails representing the Trinity and the large main sail representing God’s protection of His people. His problem is that this must be explained. In addition, the church itself is spartan in terms of images and decoration. Apparently this is quite clear to everyone as Magister describes preparations for the Holy Father’s visit today.

The same crucifix that is above the altar – a beautiful seventeenth century crucifix made of wood and pasteboard – had to be brought in from another church on the outskirts of Rome. In another corner, a blue and white statue of Mary on a plastic pedestal has been set up haphazardly. These last instances are signs of a desire to fill up an emptiness that is felt as unbearable.

I do not believe that this Catholic nod to modernity is not without its roots in the Reformation. Reformed tradition, following Calvin’s notion of total depravity and a dualistic division between body and soul, a Christian Dualism if you will, greatly influenced spartan Reformed architecture and decoration. Reformed worship services emphasize the intellectual and are generally short and spartan in terms of the liturgical. In the U.S. especially, this spartanism has affected the other Protestant traditions. I suppose this is the influence in modern secular architecture?

This dualism is an offshoot Nominalism; the outcome of a decadent Aristotelianism. It is historically linked to Nominalism by way of Cartesian scholasticism. It is logically linked to it through the Nominalists’ focus on the reality on the concrete singular. However, this Aristotelian approach went awry and ended up denying the objective status of the universal. This is the root of modern subjectivism, of the distinctively modern separation of body and soul, mind and world. The universal becomes locked in our own mental cabinet. The concrete singular is then unknowable.

Christian Dualism has been edging its way into popular thinking and Catholic architecture and liturgical decoration since midway through the 20th century in the U.S., maybe earlier in some circles. It took off after the Second Vatican Council. It is uncommon to enter a church built since the early 1960s an not seen large empty white walls and have to hunt to find a statue or even the Stations of the Cross. In our liturgical practices we have largely eliminated most of the faithful’s bodily gestures. With those few gestures remaining it is rare to see them observed (e.g. striking of the breast during the Confiteor and bowing during the Creed).

Christian Dualism can be described as the conception that the body matters little; what is truly important is the soul. The body is simply, at best, a shell that holds the soul; at worst, it is the prison from which the soul seeks to escape. This is not Christian. The human person is a unity of body and soul. One single entity. This is the way we will spend eternity after the final resurrection. The dignity and glory of the body was shown by the Incarnation.

The human person is incarnational. Except for the rare instances of infused knowledge, everything comes to us through our five senses. Our bodies reveal our souls because our souls give shape and motion to our bodies. That which we experience through more of our senses becomes more real to us, it is more integrated into our person. This is the reason the Sacraments are so powerful. It is also the reason that Catholics have always held Christian art and artistic architecture in such high esteem.

We need to shake every dualistic presupposition from our thoughts and recover an incarnational faith. This by the way is what Gen-Y is pining for. It is interesting that those of the virtual generation are the ones who are demanding the “smells and bells” be put back into worship.

We have starved ourselves and our children from a more authentic experience of liturgy for far too long. It is time we rediscover who and what we really are and return Catholic liturgical expression back to its full-throated incarnational glory.

Updated: Hierothee’s comments have been incorporated.