The essence of our faith, as recited every Sunday is the Nicene Creed which takes its name from the first Ecumenical Council of the Church in Nicea in 325. It has, for nearly 1800 years, been the foundation from which the principles of the faith have been taught. For almost as long it has been codified in chant that the people of God may sing it in unity of thought, unity of profession, and unity of voice.
It hasn’t been without its revisions and controvosies including the filioque clause, added to affirm the precedence of the persons of the Trinity that ignited a heated debate with the Orthodox Church and remains a point of contention today. Regular readers of Fr Z’s blog will understand the “lame duck” argument against the 1970 translation and the way in which even subtle changes in text have led to significant changes in understanding. Consubstantialem patri became “of one being with the Father” rather than “consubstantial” which it becomes with the new translation. We “believe in” rather than “confess” one baptism, which again, thankfully will change. The detractors of the new translations claim that words like “consubstantial” are difficult concepts to understand and linguistically tricky because we just don’t speak that way in normal conversation. There are many points to be made in reply, but Fr Z answers it succinctly in the argument “if it’s structurally tricky in English then why not sing/say it in the fluid Latin?” A good point well made.
In order to aid the transition later in the year I’d be game for singing the creed in one of the 6 chant modes. Some parishes do this, and many of the English cathedrals will most Sundays, using either Credo 3 in ordinary time and Credo 1 (which I much prefer) in the penitential seasons. Personally, I think if we are in a time of counter-revolutionary revolution why not push the boat out with some of the other modes? Credo 4 is a particular favourite of mine (confusingly Credo 1 is in mode 4, Credo 4 in mode 1) as it evokes a monastic feel. I’d happily see that become the norm for the Lenten season perhaps. Maybe if your parish is too wedded to the 4 hymn sandwich to introduce plainsong propers, the plainsong creed is another way to go.
One of the ways the liturgical tinkerers have really undermined the centrality of the mass has been through the creed. I remember 20 years ago as a teenager going along to a Youth Rally that ended in a “mass”. I was in “Rhets” (Rheteoric, the name given the the lower 6th form year in my school) and a friend of mine was involved in the organisation of the day. Part of it included a kind of assembly where some “grown ups” (read “yoof ministry” professionals a good 20 or so years older than us and with no real idea of what messages would really have resonated with us) would talk to us about their “testimonies”. From what I remembered most of them involved stories of how excited they were at our age because Vatican 2 was going on at the time and how the mass was going to change from crusty old Latin into funky English, and the mass was going to be “fun” and the challenges they faced standing up to “the man” in the name of justice and peace. We listened politiely while scoping out the girls we fancied planning our advances for the disco later that evening, as you do when you’re 17. Then came mass. It was awful. My friend David, who had spent months organising this event with others in the Deanery, was effectively told that the mass was out of bounds to him and that the “yoof ministry” of 40-something grown ups would organise this bit of the day. We had “liturgical dance”. We had standing round in a circle holding hands during the consecration. We had bidding prayers for Mother Earth. We had a nun asking a non-Catholic if she wanted to be a Eucharistic Minister (because “we are all members of God’s family”). We had Fr Funky in his sandals and polyester ethnic shawl/stole strumming a guitar leading “praise songs”. We had all of that, but we kind of expected it. We resigned ourselves to the mass being a playground for the infantile “grown ups” who thought they were “reaching out”, but instead did nothing other than pander to their own whims while making us think they were loosers (in the nicest possible way). We knew that was the quid pro quo, so it didn’t shock us. What did, what got us talking afterwards (other than whether anyone knew if so-and-so’s sister had a boyfriend) was the fact that the Creed, the bit everyone would usually say together had been replaced with some nonesense. I don’t remember it in any detail, except that there was absolutely no mention of God beyond a passing reference to (and this I do remember even now, 20 years on) “a collective consciousness that energises the whole of creation”. Whatever that means. We professed beliefs in justice, peace, caring for the world and each other, denying war and famine were true paths, but we never actually stated a fim belief in anything other than a “collective consciousness”. God simply didn’t get a look-in.
What does it say about the innate understanding of the centrality of the Creed when Fr Funky and Sr Bendy and a few “yoof workers” can liturgically dance to the “table of more than plenty” and we, as teenagers, were hardly surprised and only mildly offended; but play with the Creed? That was a whole new dimension and it bothered us. We would have struggled to articulate why, but the absence of the Nicene Creed seemed to disjoint the whole experience.
As a counter to the folly of my older generation your correspondent leaves you with Credo 4. Let’s hope my children’s generation are spared the toe-curling embarassment of infantile “grown-ups” offering up what I had to endure. Now would be the time to encourage that change.
