Speaking of rallying prayers....

This morning at Mass, we said the St. Michael the Archangel prayer in quiet unison as a sort of recessional:

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle,
be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray.
And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God,
thrust into Hell
Satan and all his evil spirits who wander the world
seeking the ruin of souls.
Amen.

And suddenly, I was struck by the tone of it. If we could have gotten into a football huddle and piled up hands to say it, it would strike just the right note! Especially if you built the volume and fervor and came down hard on some of the words - "rebuke" and "thrust" and "evil" and then said "Amen" instead of "Break!"

I like this practice, which only one of our priests permits. First, it takes the place of a sung or chanted recessional (I do wish we could alternate it with the Regina Caeli, for which I would volunteer to teach the right chant tone, but one thing at a time, we just got this going two years ago.) We don't have to get distracted by listening to the priest's shoes squeak as he pads off to the left. Second, it points us out the door towards the big bad wonderful world out there, since the majority of the attendees at my early Mass are commuters, with a few retired golfers like pastel sprinkles through the group. We're going to face our own imperfections as well as the fallenness of the world, and it doesn't hurt to ask for help against the Father of Evil, since we DO have help! Third, it reminds me of the Communion of Saints. If I keep mindful of the bigger church I am part of, I am more likely to try and be a good member instead of comparing myself to myself.

Memorized prayers can be very dear, or very dull, or very meaningless. But they're awfully handy to get our hearts calmed down and our minds lifted up. Then we can talk to the Lord and consult with the saints in Heaven and ponder the Scripture we ideally just read or heard.

Now, Roz, shall we take on the sing-song "Angel of God?"

Time to get ready

I've tended to think of the Gloria, if I thought of it at all, as a sort of throwaway prayer that was there to create a spacer between decades of the rosary or as a notification that you were done with a series of prayers and ready to move onto something else. Has anyone ever heard it prayed in a fervent rather than a mumbled tone? I thought not.

But it's been getting my attention lately. Isn't it the complete epitome of worship?

Glory be to the Father!

And to the Son!

And to the Holy Spirit!

As it was in the beginning . . . is now . . . and ever shall be! World without end!

I've seen you people. You're just like me You're perfectly capable of standing on your feet, waving your arms and screaming when you have seats on the 50 yard line and your team is driving for the go-ahead touchdown with 45 seconds to go in the fourth quarter. Well, think of being in the middle of a hepped up group of God-lovers jumping, smiling, laughing and shouting "GLORY BE TO THE FATHER! AND TO THE SON! AND TO THE HOLY SPIRIT! . . . ." Does it or does it not give you gooseflesh? It does me.

Okay, now the $65,000 question: Do you think heaven will look more like this or like a sedate, mannerly mortuary waiting room?

Yep. Better start practicing.

Gee, sorry you're so unhappy

In Cacciguida's words, this guy stereotypes, sure, but he does it really, really well.

I had to laugh at his description of Latin Mass at St. John Cantius in Chicago: "The sanctuary, behind a long communion rail, looked oddly barren because it lacked the modern altar on which a priest, facing the people, prepares the Eucharistic meal." Does this look barren? Or this?

He does understand why some people are happy about having more access to the traditional Mass. To wit:

They’re right that Mass can be listless, with little solemnity and multiple sources of irritation: parents sedating children with Cheerios; priests preaching refrigerator-magnet truisms; amateur guitar strumming that was lame in 1973; teenagers slumping back after communion, hands in pockets, as if wishing they had been given gum instead.

(I have to say that if the Latin Mass ever comes to my parish, there will be no lack of parents sedating their kids with Cheerios. Father calls our church a "cry room with a tabernacle.")

This fellow doesn't like feeling left out. Fair enough. Let's make sure that good handouts are always available so the first-time visitor can stay apace. I'd appreciate that myself.

And he misses the "family meal" emphasis that has crept -- no, galloped -- into the liturgy since the 1960s. If he pays attention, though, and keeps an open mind, he's in for some wonderful surprises. Deep participation in the bodily and spiritual presence of the redemptive Christ is way better than a family meal, no offense to Mom. And no one says we can't go out together for brunch afterwards.

There's nothing like a good shepherd

Bishop Robert Baker of Charleston (rumored to be soon moved to the long-vacant diocese of Birmingham) has written a diocesan pastoral letter on the application of Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body.

The I've found the Theology of the Body to be incredibly rich, both in my growth into union with my new husband and as a framework within which Christ's full donation of himself to his Bride, and ours back to him, can gleam with light and depth.

Here's a taste. If you like it, you can read the whole thing here.

A central tenet of the Theology of the Body is that faithful, self-donative love, and the communion which results from the giving and receiving of that gift, is the creative dynamic which reflects the inner life of the Holy Trinity. Self-donative love is the gift of self on behalf of another person. It is the life-giving love of the Trinity at creation. It is the love of Jesus Christ, especially at Calvary. It is the love which inspired the martyrs of the Church, and it is the love which is the heart of the marriage covenant. From this generous gift of self for the other flows the whole of the Gospel.

Dog-eared in the waiting room

My dentist is a prince among men. Unlike any other professional's waiting room in my experience, he has current copies of interesting magazines lying around to help me pass the interval between my appointment time and the time the professional's assistant moves me into an inner room to hide the fact that I'm still waiting. I bless my dentist. I would bless him even more if he tended to run behind schedule, because no sooner do I get engrossed in an interesting article in the New Yorker or U.S. News and World Report but I am summoned to the reclining chair to offer penance for my sins of gum neglect.

As you may have noticed, Exultet can tend to get a bit creased and dog-eared between posts. Therese is neck deep in professional demands, and I have been likewise absorbed with work projects. However, that's no reason we should neglect you. We are sorry.

While we restart our literary engines, here are some tidbits for you, all nice and glossy:

• End of an era. If you haven't noticed, the fabled Amy Welborn is abandoning her landmark blog in which she did all the legwork and looking-into so we wouldn't have to. Thank you, Amy. The Catholic online world is in your debt. Her more personal and informal musings will continue at Charlotte Was Both.
  
  
• Seminarian videos are the new black. I admit, it's videos like this as much as reports of the recent tendency of solid, holy young men to flock to seminaries that give me hope for the future of the Catholic Church in America. This one parodies the PC vs. Mac commercials in a treatment of contraception and Natural Family Planning. See all four.
  
  
• Things I wouldn't have considered unless Julie told me to.
  
  
• Madonna, call your office. Straight from the fantasy lives of all priests, deacons and choral directors, here's Deacon Greg Kandra's recommendation for the church bulletin announcement to end all bulletin announcements. An excerpt:
  
  "CELL PHONES CAUSE HEAD INJURIES! New research indicates that people who bring cell phones to church are more likely to suffer serious head trauma, usually caused by the priest throwing the lectionary at them."

Thank you for listening. We now return you to your regularly scheduled web cruising.