Those Nostalgic Fetishists!

They should just stop it

Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, Santa Maria del Mar, Barcelona. From a 2023 visit.

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The question is, I suppose, why keep doing this? Why focus on this post-Vatican II era, even in your random pop culture posts, like those on the 1964 World’s Fair over at Charlotte was Both?

Well, I suppose the first answer is because the Ecclesiastical Powers That Be keep telling us that the Second Vatican Council is indeed the most significant event of the last century of Catholic history, did change things and that if we consider ourselves Catholic we must “accept the Council” – but despite all of that, no one can agree on what any of that actually means.

So yes, we have to keep talking about it.

If you center an event a particular event in the life of the Church and the meaning and legitimate fruit of that event is contested, yes, we have to keep talking about it.

No apologies, then.

But then as well, it’s just a fascinating period on its own, even without any personal investment in the outcome. The speed, the radical nature of change, the psychological and sociological dimensions of it all – including the course of events since the 70’s – it’s all just very, very interesting.

Providing, as well, strong lessons in various dimensions of human life on earth:

- Enthusiasm

- Institutional v. charismatic leadership and organization

- The dynamics of change

- The dynamics of social movements and organizations

- Power dynamics

- And my favorite: unintended consequences

In other words, if you’re going to keep telling us Vatican II is definitive, and if you – as a whole teaching Church – can’t even tell us what it definitively means and calls for in the present day, and various elements of “you” continue to weaponize “the Council” in order to impose a particular agenda that anyone who can read knows is not actually called for by “the Council” –

Yes, we have to keep talking about it, and godspeed to Bishop Varden in his quest to point out the obvious to the older generation, but as long as they are calling the shots in the framework of their chosen hermeneutic, the conversation continues

And as I’ve said many times before in relation to this space in particular is that one of my primary interests is to excavate, present and discuss this era not just out of curiosity and certainly not to point and laugh or be nostalgic, but for the sake of clarification and mutual understanding.

So in relation to the rest of this particular post:

Every so often – okay, regularly – there’s a dust-up, either ginned-up online or in relation to a decision or policy – which follows this pattern:

1. A policy is instituted or a social media post or article is written which regulates or criticizes a practice that might be characterized as “pre-Vatican II.”

2. Online voices, which tend towards “conservatism” - get loud, scoffing, wondering, incredulous as to why *anyone* would be bothered by this thing: kneeling for Communion, Communion on the tongue, Latin, statues, veils, altar rails, a priest in a cassock, etc.

3. Someone says “Boomer” – everyone agrees, and we’re done. Until the next thing comes along.

We’re deep, at that point, into what I recently described in my post, Mysteries of Faith over at the other place.

A total lack of mutual understanding, which is not surprising, but a distressing unwillingness to even try to understand.

Lots of strawmen, hardly any steelmen.

I’m here to provide the latter. Because guess what – nothing’s ever going to improve unless people on different sides understand the other’s point of view and can discuss these issues based, not on caricatures or assumptions, but on the beliefs and assumptions that actually provide the basis for these views and decisions.

So last week, the hot topic was the placement of the Tabernacle, inspired by Michael Sean Winters’ NCR(eporter) column, introduced with a bit of intentionally incendiary material:

What is this fetish for returning tabernacles to the main altar?

The reactions on X were swift and mocking, as if Winters had just thought this up, despite the fact that his column (for once) didn’t just rely on his own views, but offered commentary from not-at-all radical Notre Dame professor Timothy O’Malley.

"The move to put tabernacles on the main altar was a part of post-Reformation Catholicism," said University of Notre Dame professor Timothy O'Malley, who is the academic director of the Notre Dame Center for Liturgy and an associate director of the McGrath Institute. "It is seen as traditional even though, when you look at Christian history, that central placement isn't normative." Most cathedrals in Europe which were built before the Reformation place the tabernacle in a side chapel.

Nonetheless, the mocking quotetweets continued, expressing incredulity at this idea, as if it were some idiosyncratic crankery going on.

Boomers!

But…it’s not.

The practice of reservation of the Blessed Sacrament anywhere, including in a church building, as well as the placement of the Tabernacle are matters of yes, development in Catholic history.

The problem was that in the 20^th century, the loudest and most powerful voices in the Liturgical Movement promoted a view that privileged what they believed the “early Church” believed and practiced and saw almost everything since as an accretion and a reflection of flawed theologies shaped by social and political factors (feudalism and monarchism, for example).

No need to rehash all of that and its consequences.

Nevertheless, the history-rooted discussion – here of the placement of the Tabernacle – is perfectly legitimate.

In other words, no, the Tabernacle has not always since time immemorial been located behind a main altar in a church, especially in a Cathedral, and in fact, no, the Sacrament has not always been reserved for reasons other than sharing with the sick – for adoration and devotion outside of Mass.

The problem was that knowing this, the reformers who obtained power to do so decided that well, if it hadn’t always happened, if it was a development and growth in spirituality, theology and practice – especially if it developed during the medieval period or (worse) Counter-Reformation – it reflects those limited concerns and reactions and (wait for it) – is both an accretion obscuring the pure faith of the Early Church and an obstacle to the Real Vibrant Faith of Modern Man.

For these guys, there was no authentic, organic development – except for what they wanted to happen in the mid-20^th century, of course.

That said – that bit of negativity aside, let’s look at the argument against placing the Tabernacle in the church, behind the altar in the light of the concerns of the mid-century Liturgical Movement.

In essence, the focus was a liturgical spirituality with the Mass at the center. If you want a primer, read Pius XII’s Mediator Dei.

The Mass, further, not as a clerical drama in which the faithful participate only interiorly, but an act of the entire Body of Christ whose internal participation is signified and expressed by external participation.

Argue with the assumptions or not, that’s the foundation here.

Further, the ideal was an experience of the Mass which was deeply aware and expressive of the dynamic reality of the Eucharistic action, of the sacrifice, here and now, in this moment and place. We gather, in other words, to worship, to offer, to receive, to become and to go forth in a communal action centered on the sacrifice offered and meal shared at the altar.

So when the argument is made “the focus should be on the altar” – it’s not because “they think we’re dumb and can’t hold two thoughts simultaneously” – it’s because of the power of sign and the unity of action.

So – aside from all of the other reasons, most of them stupid – to strip churches of interior decorative and devotional elements - this was the theological motivation. To express and allow the congregation to more deeply understand and experience the meaning of the Mass as the gathering, sanctification and sending forth of the Body of Christ, here and now, as a dynamic reality.

To their mind, the presence of the Tabernacle with its “static” Real Presence in the same space in which the “dynamic” Real Presence was brought forth and shared was a dilution of the sign.

Take, for example, the words of Fr. Joseph Champlin, quoted in a quite interesting, succinct article by Catherine R. Osborne in a 2014 American Catholic Studies article: “Renovating for the New Liturgy: The Boston College Students’ Chapel.”

While not directly commenting on the issue of altar and tabernacle, it gives a simple summation of the dominant conviction of what the Council was calling for:

Liturgist Joseph Champlin commented that a certain set of “familiar directives” was arising out of conciliar documents on the liturgy: “full, active, conscious participation in rites which possess noble simplicity, which are short, clear, and within people’s powers of comprehension; taking part by means of songs, actions, gestures, and bodily attitudes, as by reverent silence; assembling for mass in such a way that a sense of community develops.”

Architecture could foster these goals; or it could not. Older churches, in Champlin’s view, tended to be too large to allow for the development of community and too restrictive of the congregation’s mobility during the service. If future congregations needed to be “listening, speaking, singing, watching, standing, sitting, moving about the church,” in order to be as deeply involved as possible in the main action of the Mass rather than distracted by the statues, stained glass, and so forth that had served to fill the [inspirational] gap” left open by the distance between congregation and Eucharist.”

Note that last assertion – this relates to another point I’ve been making for years, as people wonder, “Why in the world did they want to take out statues and such and make churches so plain?”

Because as Champlin says here – these reformers believed that all of that had evolved because the people felt distant from the action of the Mass – it was in another language, it was silent, they had no active role – and so the devotional elements in church evolved to provide a focus, a connection, a way to spiritual fulfillment that their experience of Mass (as spectators, it was said) did not provide.

(Again, we’re back to the interpretation of all of these things as either accretions that distract or developments that enrich and enhance.)

Disagree if you like and certainly I’m steelmanning here, considering that yes, as things evolved (quickly) it wasn’t just a dilution of sign that was in the offing, but a dilution of faith – but I just think it’s important to get origins and motivations right.

And then talk about, yes, unintended (or intended) consequences, simplistic, fabricated, imposed agendas, and what organic development actually means – but start at least in the right place, understanding context and arguments for what they were.

I’ll add that this, of course, goes all ways and every way.

For his part, Winters, as made clear by his very first sentence, has no interest in steelmanning the other side to his argument.

A comprehensive historical perspective should trump 1950s nostalgia in almost all cases, and theological considerations should trump historical precision in most cases. The theology is straightforward: Eucharist is a verb before it is a noun. The Mass is not only the source and summit of our faith, as Vatican II taught, it is the obvious source of the reserved Eucharist. You can have a Mass without a reserved sacrament. You can't have the reserved sacrament without the Mass.

I mean, he’s not wrong in that last part, but he’s also well, pretty wrong. It’s not “1950s nostalgia” that motivates the desire to re-place tabernacles in churches. That’s whatever is lower than strawmanning.

That “nostalgia” slam has got to go. It’s just about the laziest contention out there, and that’s saying something.

Interesting and important questions could be asked, instead, about the actual sign value of the Mass as most American Catholics experience it, in presenting the power and nature of Christ’s presence among us and sending us forth.

How’re we doin’?

Could the move to elevated tabernacles and the popularity of Eucharistic adoration be a hint that there might be an, er, “inspirational gap?”

So – and if you’ve read this far, thank you – here we are, back to the question:

Does the vision of the Eucharistic liturgy, articulated in the 20^th century in foundational, magisterial ways by Pius XII and the Council Fathers necessitate particular concrete expressions and preclude others?

That’s it. That’s the note.

To flesh that out, I’ve got another article for you. Also at JSTOR, and if you just sign up for a free account, you can read it.

It’s written by Michael Skaggs, a Notre Dame Ph.D, published in U.S. Catholic Historian back in 2015: “The Council as Shibboleth: The Rhetoric of Authenticity and Liturgical Space after Vatican II”

Skaggs teases out the distinction between “permissive” and “prescriptive” views of V2 documents as it has played out in the past decades, and points out the simple truth that documents and policies produced after the Council, even if they are from Rome are not “Conciliar.”

It’s quite good, but I’ve gone on long enough here, so I won’t quote. As I said - it’s free. Go check it out.

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In short, we’re back to the continual conflict about interpretation. Why is “accepting Vatican II” or designing liturgical spaces in accordance with Vatican II somehow necessarily and for all time concomitant with say, Richard Vosko’s vision or even some document issued by the American bishops back in 1978?

Who’s being a nostalgic fetishist now?

Does the presence of a Tabernacle behind the altar necessarily and at all times violate the sign value of the Mass as celebrated on the altar of sacrifice right in the present moment, with this community? Or is there perhaps a way of seeing it differently, given hindsight, given deeper historical perspectives and even, given the experiences of (gulp)…

Modern Man?

(2026 version)