Ritus Narcissus

Part III: The Confused Dialogue -
Why Are We Singing God's Part?

Further, in order to carry on a conversation, each party must know his role and speak his lines. You and I cannot speak if I forget my role and insist on saying your lines. Romeo and Juliet would never have been lovers if he had strolled onto the scene and lamented, "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" Nor would he have thought her worth the trouble if she, while throwing open the shutters, asked, "What light through yonder window breaks?" The same holds true for the Liturgy: when we seize God's lines we cripple the conversation and therefore the relationship.

For example, in the song "Hosea" by Gregory Norbet, OSB, we sing God's words to us:

	Come back to me with all your heart,
	don't let fear keep us apart.	
	Long have I waited 
	   for your coming home to me
	and living deeply our new life.

The question arises, To whom are we speaking? We cannot possibly be speaking to God, because it would make no sense for us to speak these words to Him. One hopes that these words are not intended for each other, for that would be the height of arrogance. In fact, when we sing these words we speak to no one in particular. We no longer converse with God at all, but simply reminisce about Him.

Similarly with the chorus of the song "I Have Loved You" by Michael Joncas:

	I have loved you 
	   with an everlasting love,
	I have called you and you are mine;
	I have loved you 
	   with an everlasting love,
	I have called you and you are mine.

Of course, the "I" here is God­­not us. So why are we singing God's part? Again, because this cannot possibly be conversational, we reduce the event to mere remembrance. With the elimination of the dialogue with God, active participation becomes nostalgic reminiscence.

At certain moments of the Mass, the peculiarity of these lyrics becomes strikingly clear. At Communion, for instance, when the Creator comes to dwell within His creatures, and we come forward to receive the Almighty, we often act like anything but creatures:

	I, the Lord of sea and sky, 
	I have heard my people cry,	
	all who dwell in dark and sin 	
	my hand will save.	
	I who made the stars of night, 	
	I will make their darkness bright	
	Who will bear my light to them? 	
	Whom shall I send?

Granted, the chorus of the song ("Here I Am" by Dan Schutte) reflects the proper dialogue. But the verses have us speaking in God's voice. That leaves us little room to recognize our dependence on Him and need for Him in the Eucharist.

Perhaps most offensive are those songs that take the words of Consecration as the refrain. For example, "Take and Eat" by Michael Joncas and James Quinn:

	Take and eat; take and eat:
	This is my body given up for you.	
	Take and drink; take and drink:	
	This is my blood given up for you.

More than any others, these lyrics eliminate the dialogue of the Mass by having us speak God's lines. The words of Consecration comprise God's final act of love for man: by them Christ gave Himself definitively to the Church; by them Christ continues to renew His sacrifice; by them Christ the Bridegroom presents Himself to His Bride. Priests have special reverence for these words, because in saying them they stand in the person of Christ and speak with the voice of Christ. The Consecration holds pride of place at Mass precisely because at that moment a man dares to speak the words of God the Son to God the Father.

Unfortunately, what should be regarded as sacred and exceptional is now common domain. We all sing-to whom?-what we should hear only from Christ. So how can we really understand its significance?

These and similar lyrics do not simply confuse the situation, they distort the Mass itself. By usurping God's role we abolish any sense of conversation and in effect deny the presence of Christ at Mass. We elevate ourselves to God's level and lower the Mass to a mere moment of remembrance.

Ritus Narcissus

The myth of Narcissus provides a good lesson for modern liturgy. The handsome young man, so enchanted with his own looks, sat gazing at his reflection in the water. He could not bring himself to leave his image and so grew rooted to the spot, admiring himself.

Too many current songs encourage us to do the same. We talk to ourselves and sing love songs to ourselves. Just as Narcissus' self-adulation rendered himself incapable of a relationship and therefore of love, so also these hymns of conceit cripple our ability to speak with God. If God sees that we are so smitten with our own presence, He may judge us unfit to enter His.

Copyright (c) 1999 Fr. Paul Scalia

Father Scalia is a priest in the diocese of Arlington VA and a frequent contributor to Adoremus Bulletin.