Thomas Sunday, a missing "comma", and the Impact of Biblical Criticism on the Liturgy

I was struck today at Mass (EF) that the epistle was taken from 1 John-- and in particular the fifth chapter, verses 4-10.

Why is this so interesting, you may ask?

The key lies in verses 6-8, the only explicit reference to the unity of the Trinity in the whole of Scripture. In the Douay-Rheims, this verse is translated as

This is he that came by water and blood, Jesus Christ: not by water only, but by water and blood. And it is the Spirit which testifieth, that Christ is the truth.  And there are three who give testimony in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one. And there are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three are one.

Never heard of it? Not surprising. This line of Scripture is known as the Johannine Comma, and has been omitted from most modern Bibles.

For instance, here is the usually very reliable RSV, same verses:

This is he who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only but with the water and the blood. And the Spirit is the witness, because the Spirit is the truth. There are three witnesses, the Spirit, the water, and the blood; and these three agree.

Where is our reference to the Trinity?! It's gone!

Now, it is not my intention to enter into a whole exegesis of the tradition and modern Scripture scholarship on this particular verse-- it is enough to presume that there are variants in the manuscripts. The question is at what point did these variants enter the manuscripts, and what is the constant tradition of the Church regarding this text? Rather than giving a full exegesis, I'll simply be a good faithful Catholic, and defer to the judgment of Holy Mother Church on this particular matter.

The decree of the Holy Office, dated 13 January 1897 deals with the question of whether or not one can call into question the authenticity of the so-called "comma". Here is the text:

To the question: 'Whether it can safely be denied, or at least called into doubt that the text of St. john in the first epistle, chapter 5, verse 7, is authentic, which read as follows: 'And there are three that give testimony in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one?" -- the response was given on January 13, 1897: In the negative. (Denzinger 2198) 

Now, with the state of the question of the Comma resolved (that Catholics should indeed uphold the integrity of the passage), how does this impact the liturgy?

As I said in the beginning of this post, this was the reading of the Epistle at Mass today. It is retained in the Novus Ordo Missae for this feast in the year B cycle only. However, it seems that the folks who put together the new Lectionary did not want to make reference to the Triune God-- The verses for the reading stop at verse 6, and so avoid any possible controversy that may ensue over the greater issue, which is in fact the question of the official Latin text of the Lectionary, the Nova Vulgata, promulgated in 1979 and the product of a good bit of modern Scripture scholarship.

How is the use of the Nova Vulgata problematic, you may ask? Perhaps we should look to it to see the whole of the passage in question from 1 John:

Hic est, qui venit per aquam et sanguinem, Iesus Christus; non in aqua solum sed in aqua et in sanguine. Et Spiritus est, qui testificatur, quoniam Spiritus est veritas. Quia tres sunt, qui testificantur: Spiritus et aqua et sanguis; et hi tres in unum sunt.

Where is our key passage?! Even in the Nova Vulgata, the official liturgical Latin text of the Church, the reference to the Trinity (which was upheld by the Holy Office as a faithful transmission of the text) is missing from the text!

In contrast, the 1962 Missal, which is based upon the Clementine Vulgate of St. Jerome, has the text in its entirety:

Hic est, qui venit per aquam et sanguinem, Jesus Christus : non in aqua solum, sed in aqua et sanguine. Et Spiritus est, qui testificatur quoniam Christus est veritas. Quoniam tres sunt, qui testimonium dant in cælo : Pater, Verbum, et Spiritus Sanctus: et hi tres unum sunt. Et tres sunt, qui testimonium dant in terra : spiritus, et aqua, et sanguis : et hi tres unum sunt.

Here, we finally see the full passage with the two sets of three who give testimony-- one in heaven, and one on earth, and which the Douay-Rheims sets out an accurate translation into English for us.

The title of this post makes the inference that the modern Biblical criticism has had an impact on the liturgy. In my studies, I can't help but observe a certain parallelism in the Historical-Critical movement and the Liturgical Movement in the 20th c., but here is the rub: if we believe in Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, then surely the texts of the Mass which we pray and the Scriptures which are proclaimed have an impact on what it is we profess and believe as Catholics.

And yet, where is our "Comma"? What a text! It was such an inspiration to hear and read the profession of the Trinity found in Scripture during the Mass today.

This verse used in the liturgy, or not, as it were, seems to highlight a number of difficulties which we need to reconcile in the faith and life of the Church today. In continuing to implement the Council, in particular the texts on the Word of God and on the Liturgy, we are utterly dependent upon those great traditions that were handed down to us, "whether by word of mouth or by letter", in order to ensure that what we are professing is in fact the Faith of the Church as constantly believed by the great Saints and Martyrs of our history. If we are to become Saints, then it is most beneficial for us to know and pray the same things which were believed and prayed by all of the other Saints, that by following their example, we too will be guided rightly in our lives of faith toward the heavenly liturgy.

You Might Be Married to a Liturgiophile If...

I love attending a beautiful, prayerful, spiritually uplifting liturgy as much as the average Catholic.  (And, just for your information, I deliberately refuse - in this post at least - to further explicate what I mean by "beautiful, prayerful, and spiritually uplifting".) I would consider myself a reasonably theologically and liturgically informed Catholic laywoman. When dating my future husband, I would have said he possessed a similar attitude.

Recently, I forced myself to confront reality, the reality that since our marriage, my husband has exhibited the gradual onset of liturgiophila...indeed I would have to admit he now is a qualified, bona fide liturgiophile*. I can't say I have much hope of ever reversing this condition. The most I can do is to share a list of symptoms, documented from experience, so that other unsuspecting Catholic wives can accurately diagnose and cope with the condition in their spouses.

Your liturgiophile may exhibit some, all, or additional symptoms. Rest assured, the exhibition of one or two does not necessarily warrant a diagnosis of liturgiophila - it is the confluence of many (or additional) symptoms, sustained over a significant period of time that decisively indicates the condition.

Thus, and with no further ado, 

You might be married to a liturgiophile if...

..."Holy" is his standard response to "How was Mass, dear?"

...the New Liturgical Movement and Fr. John Zuhlsdorf are daily reads AND bookmarked.

...two of the family bookshelves are reserved for his "liturgical collection".

...the big purchases he negotiates with you for are tailored cassocks and embroidered surplices.

...the Ceremonial of Bishops is the most frequently consulted reference work in the house.

...you receive a mantilla for Valentine's Day (thank you, Fr. Z)...and the offer of a chapel veil in a color of your choice for Mother's Day so as to coordinate with various outfits.

...over supper, he reveals that he knows "ambones" is the plural of "ambo".

...he can advise an instituted acolyte on serving as subdeacon.

...he knows and discusses the use of obscure pontifical vesture, and repeatedly calls for the return of the use of the cappa magna by the Bishops, (and the triregnum by the Pope).

...(in that vein), you knew that the first thing to mention was the return of the papal fanon when he asked you about the broadcast of the recent canonizations...and you weren't surprised when he made the former the subject of a facebook post.

...(and still proceeding on this theme) his opinion on which particular style of Roman Chasuble is the best (it's a toss up apparently: the Philip Neri or the Italian style) qualifies as romantic conversation. 

...his friends guffaw knowingly when new acquaintances ask his opinion on Children's Liturgy.

...your spouse frequently debates the merits of Fortescue vs. O'Connell with random clergy.

...and while he owns both texts, his modus operandi is WWFS (What Would Fortescue Say?).

...he is determined to have a son named "Gregory", and your adamant refusal to even consider "Pius" is near occasion for argument.

...he spends hours researching to find you free PDFs of out-of-print books on ecclesiastical embroidery.

...your friends come for a casual cup of tea, and leave wide-eyed, asking, "How does he KNOW all this stuff about the Mass??"

...he knows which clerics can only wear wool, and which can wear silk. 

...Gammarelli's is top of the "tourist" list when your family travels to Rome.

...and he insists on taking a photograph to document the visit:

*As a qualification, though I am not overly naive on this point, I would generally expect the clergy to possess a working knowledge of and love for the liturgy and all things liturgical.  I am therefore identifying symptoms of this condition as manifested in the laity. 

More on Music in the 3rd Edition of the Roman Missal

The release of the new Missal in November is a phenomenal opportunity for a renewal of good liturgical practice during the Mass. One of the more noticeable areas of the Mass for this renewal is in sacred music (I have written about it before, HERE). In fact, the USCCB has realized this, too, and has even authorized the use of the improved translation a few months in advance of the rest of the Missal.

This renewal, I think, has been the cause of quite a lot of commentary as of late in the blogosphere on music in the new edition of the Missal. I believe that the good folks over at The Chant Cafe' started it out, and then Fr. Z posted it, with comments, and then it went viral.

Anyway, I am in the midst of re-reading the phenomenal book, The Heresy of Formlessness, by German author Martin Mosebach. I couldn't help but fall out of my chair when I read his treatise on hymn singing replacing the Mass. It would be truly a crime to try and paraphrase, or even give you a soundbite, lest the essence of what he is saying gets lost, so here it is in full (emphasis added):

"I am firmly convinced... that vernacular hymns have played perhaps a significant part in the collapse of the liturgy. Just consider what resulted in the flowering of hymns: Luther's Reformation was a singing movement,and the hymn expressed the beliefs of the Reformers. Vernacular hymns replaced the liturgy, as they were designed to do; they were filled with the combative spirit of those dismal times and were meant to fortify the partisans. People singing a catchy melody together at the top of their voices created a sense of community, as all soldiers, clubs, and politicians know. The Catholic Counter-Reformation felt the demagogic power of these hymns. People so enjoyed singing; it was so easy to influence their emotions using pleasing tunes with verse repetition. In the liturgy of the Mass, however, there was no place for hymns. The liturgy has no gaps; it is one single great canticle; where it prescribes silence or the whisper, that is, where the mystery is covered with an acoustic veil,as it were, any hymn would be out of the question. The hymn has a beginning and an end; it is embedded in speech. But the leiturgos of Holy Mass does not actually speak at all; his speaking is a singing, because he has put on the "new man", because, in the sacred space of the liturgy, he is a companion of angels. In the liturgy, singing is an elevation and transfiguration of speech, and, as such, it is a sign of the transfiguration of the body that awaits those who are risen. The hymn's numerical aesthetics-- hymn 1, hymn 2, hymn 3-- is totally alien and irreconcilable in the world if the liturgy. In services that are governed by vernacular hymns, the believer is constantly being transported into new aesthetic worlds. He changes from one style to another and has to deal with highly subjective poetry of the most varied levels. He is moved and stirred-- but not by the thing itself, liturgy: he is moved and stirred by the expressed sentiments of the commentary upon it. By contrast, the bond that Gregorian chant weaves between the liturgical action and song is so close that it is impossible to separate form and content. The processional chants that accompany liturgical processions (the Introit, Gradual, Offertory, and Communion), the responsories of the Ordinary of the Mass that interweave the prayers of the priest and The laity, and the reciting tone of the readings and orations-- all these create a ladder of liturgical expression on which the movements, actions, and the content of the prayers are brought into a perfect harmony. This language is unique to the Catholic liturgy and expresses it's inner nature, for this liturgy is not primarily worship, meditation, contemplation, instruction, but positive action. It's formulae effect a deed. The liturgy's complete, closed form has the purpose of making present the personal and bodily action of Jesus Christ. The prayers it contains are a preparation for sacrifice, not explanations for the benefit of the congregation; nor are they a kind of "warming up" of the latter. In Protestantism, vernacular hymns came in as a result of the abolition of the Sacrifice of the Mass; they were ideally suited to be a continuation of the sermon. Through singing, the assembled community found its way back from the doubting loneliness of the workday to the collective security of Sunday-- a security, be it noted, that arose from the mutual exhortation to remain firm in faith, not from witnessing the objective, divine act of sacrifice."

[Mosebach, Martin. The Heresy of Formlessness. Trans. by G. Harrison. Ignatius, 2006. (p.40-42)]

This historical treatise is a profound insight into the modern innovations that came about during the hijacked years of the Liturgical Movement, those of replacing the words of the Mass with songs in the form of a 4-hymn sandwich. In light of the music forced upon us in the past decades (combined with several other factors), I think we have seen the practical result of these innovations: we have an uninspired laity, having only a watered-down faith, if any, which can only be expressed in the form of (arguably) catchy tunes.

There's a simple solution here, a start at least, and removing the headache of trying to pick out thematically appropriate music, or how to figure out audience "participation" via songs that are written in first-person:

Sing the Propers.

(Here's a great resource... buy it for your parish priest and your music director. Now.)

I don't think that Mr. Mosebach in the quote above is saying that hymns have no place at all during Mass. In fact, it is more likely that it is quite appropriate for one or two hymns during the Mass, or perhaps a really nice instrumental piece to aid in contemplation after receiving the Eucharist. I think he is speaking to the replacement of the words of the Mass itself with hymns.

Anyway, I simply wanted to share that with you-- if you don't have a copy of the book, you should really read it in full, as it is an epic tome-- one that belongs in every personal library, owing to the personal reflection it is sure to provoke.