Bad taste is not morally neutral
A colleague of mine here in Waiapu recently sent this out in his mailing. I think it is a really interesting. It captures some of my frustration with what is offered young people. Not so much bad taste, but shallow. Anyway give it a read, and let me know what you think.
Bad taste is not morally neutral
In a conversation about liturgy, Australian Cistercian monk Michael Casey made reference to the 1960s writing of Richard Egecenter, The Desecration of Christ, that "bad taste is not morally neutral". This was music to my ears, and I have now tracked down a copy of the book. Egecenter's assertion reminded me of early twentieth-century wood engraver Eric Gill's "bad taste is the worst heresy". Fr Michael's point was that if good liturgy forms the people of God, it follows that bad liturgy - including rubbish music - deforms. And deforming the faith community cannot be considered morally neutral.
Some hard things have been said and written about churches and worship. How difficult or recognizable is it for us to hear Marva Dawn's Reaching Out without Dumbing Down claim, that churches are too preoccupied with the trivial and the ugly to be trusted as guardians and bearers of life-giving symbols?
I've been introduced to the world of blogs. Paul Fromont's Prodigal Kiwi Blog is well worth visiting at http://prodigal.typepad.com/ He recently explored the relation between architecture and spirituality.
An area of interest for me (as a non-architect) is the place of physical space, scale, boundaries, symmetries, contrast, ambiguity, shape, gradients, texture, simplicity, connectedness... etc and our encountering of God. What kind of architecture create "thin spaces" - holy places, spaces that serve as doorways into the transcendent, spaces that draw us into the Trintarian union, spaces that silence and still us in the presence of God?
I have often thought that a diocese should have a building (buy a warehouse, perhaps) in which unwanted or otherwise redundant church furnishings could be stored or exhibited, and where those who were inclined could visit this museum to admire pews, prayer desks, pulpits, and decaying embroidery in glass cases. Meanwhile, with the fear of irreversible removal diminished, a new freedom might be found to recreate buildings to house the church.
What about Tradition! Do I hear you say? The clutter of accumulated convention and quaint custom have well and truly obscured the essence of tradition. If we were beginning again to create a space to house the church, the essentials of the tradition would be identified as a bath for the waters of Baptism, a reading stand for the proclamation of the Scriptures, and an altar table for the Eucharist. Beyond that, we may wish to give prominence to the font with the Easter candle, and a candle or two drawing attention to lectern and altar. And some seats for attending to the scriptures. And of course, the implications for initiation and nurture, reflection and prayer, hospitality and service, are there in embryo. There's more that could be said (and included), but I won't clutter the core by adding anything further for now ...
Let there always be quiet, dark churches
in which people can take refuge ...
Houses of God, filled with
His silent presence.
There, even when they do not know how to pray,
at least they can be still and breathe easily.
Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation
Bad taste is not morally neutral
In a conversation about liturgy, Australian Cistercian monk Michael Casey made reference to the 1960s writing of Richard Egecenter, The Desecration of Christ, that "bad taste is not morally neutral". This was music to my ears, and I have now tracked down a copy of the book. Egecenter's assertion reminded me of early twentieth-century wood engraver Eric Gill's "bad taste is the worst heresy". Fr Michael's point was that if good liturgy forms the people of God, it follows that bad liturgy - including rubbish music - deforms. And deforming the faith community cannot be considered morally neutral.
Some hard things have been said and written about churches and worship. How difficult or recognizable is it for us to hear Marva Dawn's Reaching Out without Dumbing Down claim, that churches are too preoccupied with the trivial and the ugly to be trusted as guardians and bearers of life-giving symbols?
I've been introduced to the world of blogs. Paul Fromont's Prodigal Kiwi Blog is well worth visiting at http://prodigal.typepad.com/ He recently explored the relation between architecture and spirituality.
An area of interest for me (as a non-architect) is the place of physical space, scale, boundaries, symmetries, contrast, ambiguity, shape, gradients, texture, simplicity, connectedness... etc and our encountering of God. What kind of architecture create "thin spaces" - holy places, spaces that serve as doorways into the transcendent, spaces that draw us into the Trintarian union, spaces that silence and still us in the presence of God?
I have often thought that a diocese should have a building (buy a warehouse, perhaps) in which unwanted or otherwise redundant church furnishings could be stored or exhibited, and where those who were inclined could visit this museum to admire pews, prayer desks, pulpits, and decaying embroidery in glass cases. Meanwhile, with the fear of irreversible removal diminished, a new freedom might be found to recreate buildings to house the church.
What about Tradition! Do I hear you say? The clutter of accumulated convention and quaint custom have well and truly obscured the essence of tradition. If we were beginning again to create a space to house the church, the essentials of the tradition would be identified as a bath for the waters of Baptism, a reading stand for the proclamation of the Scriptures, and an altar table for the Eucharist. Beyond that, we may wish to give prominence to the font with the Easter candle, and a candle or two drawing attention to lectern and altar. And some seats for attending to the scriptures. And of course, the implications for initiation and nurture, reflection and prayer, hospitality and service, are there in embryo. There's more that could be said (and included), but I won't clutter the core by adding anything further for now ...
Let there always be quiet, dark churches
in which people can take refuge ...
Houses of God, filled with
His silent presence.
There, even when they do not know how to pray,
at least they can be still and breathe easily.
Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation
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