Catholics,
it would appear — both Traditional and Post-Vatican-II —
no longer have any idea about what to do with those awkward appendages
called their hands during Mass. Any attempt to arrive at an
understanding of the apparent absence of ritual uniformity
in the outward expression of prayer as a manifestation of
inward spirituality has doggedly eluded me. Our knees seem
to instinctively know — or used to know — what to do in the way of kneeling and genuflection.
It nevertheless remains that apart from haphazardly blessing ourselves, we seem to have no
idea what to do with our hands during Mass, especially during
prayer at Mass. Indeed, how is a Catholic supposed to hold
his hands during prayer? Is there an agreed upon form? And what
is more, does it matter?
This confusion did not exist prior to much of the even
greater confusion
engendered by corrupt “interpretations” of
the Second Vatican
Council and that ever-elusive and damnable
“spirit of the Council” that often egregiously flies
in the face of genuine Catholic theology, doctrine and dogma. If anything was absolutely certain
it was equally absolutely tentative. Hence the confusion
that still has us scratching our heads fifty years later, terribly
unsure about what authentically constitutes a Catholic in light
of this overwhelming and often illogical exegesis. Even the simplest
things have become cause of contention, doubt, and uncertainty.
Like a
man doubting his own identity who reaches out to others who do not know him to confirm it
— the “Second Vatican Council” reached out in the broadest
“inclusive” terms, to strangers who did not know the Church ... and
even detested Her, to reassure Her that She now was not necessarily
who She long claimed Herself to be, but who She ought to be
— on terms of their own making. “
Do you, yourselves, not know
who you are?”,
the Protestants asked incredulously. “Not certain? Then surely
we will tell you.
It is who you
spurned for the past 60 years prior to Vatican II:
US!:
the all-inclusive “People of God” — and we all are ...
despite differences and contradictions in doctrine, dogma, and even
religion itself!” This was the clarion, the evangel, that became
the “Spirit of Vatican II”. No one left out in cold — no matter
what Christ told us!
Our prayers
became the prayers of others (“for Thine is the Kingdom and the
power ...” uttered only by Protestants prior to Vatican
II), and we even greeted one another, and our own priests greeted
us, in Yiddish with “Shalom!”. We sang their songs, who did
not sing ours ... Martin Luther but not Saint Gregory. We prayed
their vernacular who did not pray in our Latin. We stripped our
churches in an ecumenical impulse to shared sterility. We de-canonized
our saints while adulating their Fanfare for the Common Man.
They gained paradise, one and all, and we lost Hell. They attained
to effortless and egalitarian sanctity while we relinquished
the notion of sin. It is odd. We became like unto them who
disdained to become like to us — who had become like to them!
All
things uniquely Catholic were deconstructed, de-emphasized, demoted,
demolished or abolished. Entire devotions and Solidarities vanished
as inimical to “ecumenism”. Confessionals disappeared or became therapy
rooms (by appointment). Our priests faced the people like our formerly
“separated brethren”, and turned their backs to God. The “People
of God” metamorphosed into God Himself — to whom was
lifted the Sacrifice and Oblation that had anciently been lifted
up to God!
Is it really
any wonder that we have even forgotten how to pray as Catholics?
It is this, and not all the incalculable devastation wrought by the
“spirit of Vatican II” that we wish to address now. Perhaps
it is this collective amnesia that has become the last vestige of
a unique and once universal culture that we called Catholicism.
Something simple and utterly Catholic — in how we pray as
Catholics.
Praying 101
How do
Catholics pray? It is a modest and simple beginning to recovering
what was lost. Something small and apprehensible, as a mustard seed.
The Teaching Sisters taught us that we held our hands in the form
of a steeple, palms pressed together, fingers pointed up to God,
and the right thumb over the left forming a Cross (We were also
taught, incidentally, to bow our heads at the Sacred Name of Jesus
— always and everywhere, without exception — but this, too, quickly
disappeared after 1962 ... Saint Paul notwithstanding. 1
) It is simple enough a question, unlike seeking
comprehensible reasons for now having:
-
(3)
different “Forms of Greeting”
-
(3) different “Forms of the Penitential
Act”
-
(4) different “Eucharistic Prayers”
-
(4) “Forms
of Dismissal.”
Out of
breath, yet?
No one wishes to be conspicuous, or to presume to set themselves
apart from others in a way that would invite their being deemed
affectatious or hypocritically holy. Since the emphasis on minimizing
ritual at large (when was the last time you knelt, let alone bowed
as indicated in the missal upon reciting the words in the Nicene
Creed “And the Word was made flesh and dwelt
among us” since the Novus Ordo of the Second Vatican
Council? We have never once — repeat, not once — observed this in
any Novus Ordo Mass anywhere in the world, even while
the missal explicitly directs both priest and congregation to
bow upon enunciating these words.
Since this repudiation of ritual
at large, a dichotomy — a kind of sundering of sorts — has resulted
between posture and intention, a disjunction between the body and
the soul. We refuse — or fear — to allow our body to conform to our soul: what
our bodies display and signify is not in accord with what is in
our hearts; we are divided within ourselves; our minds, our hearts,
pray, say, fervently believe, one thing — but in our bodies there
is nothing indicative of it, nothing in union with, expressive of,
what is in our minds. As it were, our minds worship, bend before
the will of God ... but our bodies do not? “That is my own affair”,
you say. “What I pray and how fervently I believe is my business
alone; it is between God and me.”
This is
true. That is to say, it is true of private prayer — but not of
public worship, in which we act as one body and in which our unity
with our neighbor as members of the one Body in Christ is signified,
enacted, through a common ritual that is a collective statement
of otherwise utterly unique parts in that One Body. What we express
with our bodies, our postures, our verbal prayers is a communion
in that One Body that we cannot express, attain to, through our
individual and private prayers.
There is a difference between how we pray privately
and publicly. We do not bring our own private idiosyncrasies to
Mass. We worship, pray, not simply as ourselves, but as members the Communion
of Saints (you will pardon me if I defer from using the much abused
trope
“People of God”), as a spiritual body larger than our own physical
bodies. We pray as a Church, together, united in one belief, one
creed, commonly, and such common worship can only be coherently
united through ritual, through a shared ritual that expresses the
unity of our belief. Through the active participation in ritual
we become visibly one; before God and to each other! Do you not
see it?
Rituals are Enacted by Bodies
At our
homes, behind closed doors, we can and should pray as God inspires
us and teaches us. The ways are myriad. But at the Most Holy Sacrifice
of the Mass we pray not only with our individual assent and fervor,
but as a body of believers greater than the particular bodies that
our individual souls inhabit. What unites this mass of individuals
with different aspirations but the same object of worship? Ritual!
What we do in common; what is a visible, almost sacramental
reality, our collective affirmation of what we believe though the common
form of shared ritual. Rituals are enacted by bodies, not minds,
even as they are a visible manifestation of the invisible mind.
Rituals present shared, that is to say, commonly (as “in common”)
accepted realities to the mind through the bodies of others, specifically
through the visible acts of the bodies of others.
So, what to do about those awkward hands that appear so vexsome
during Mass? Where do we put them? The Caeremoniale Episcoporum
(1985) in the paragraph De manibus iunctis
is clear about the Catholic posture concerning the folding of the
hands during Mass and prayer:
“When it says with hands folded, it is
to be understood in this way: palms extended
and joined together in front of the breast,
with the right thumb over the left in the form
of a cross" (#107, n.80)”

Another form, long in tradition, and
also reverent while standing (pressed gently against the waist),
as well as in kneeling, is hands clasped in prayer
with thumbs forming a Cross ... although we hasten to add that this
form is not uniquely Catholic:

Now, as
to whether it really matters or not. Surely God hears our earnest
prayers no matter how we fold our hands in prayer, or even if we
fold them at all. However, we do know that people who do not know
God or love Him do not do this. I personally have never observed
an atheist, skeptic, or agnostic pray at all. I have no evidence
of it. There is nothing in either their posture or their words to
convey to me not just an attitude of prayer, but the actuality of
prayer. In a word, there are gestures and postures, that we assume
as Catholics that others do not. They are signs distinctly, uniquely
— and historically — associated with Catholics. It is what Catholics
do. It is part of our identity of being a Catholic. We have Crucifixes
with the Corpus Figure of Christ on them, rather than plain
Crosses. We have Rosaries. Up to 40 years ago we bowed our heads
whenever the sacred Name of Jesus was uttered. We struck our breasts
in reciting the Confiteor, made the Sign of the Cross before we
went into the water or upon any undertaking. These things do not
necessarily identify us as Catholics, but they are unmistakably
signs of Catholics.
What is more, because we are Catholics we do, in fact —or ought
to — behave differently at Mass than we do at home, or in a pub.
We do not (or ought not) cross our legs, lean back over the pew
behind us, or wear gym suits or baseball hats. Reverence precludes
this. Or are we lacking in due reverence to God and Church? Our
voices are decidedly more subdued at the local bank, and our actions
much more restrained than they typically are in Novus Ordo
Churches. I urge you to go to a Tridentine (Latin) Mass to experience
the stunning difference. And yet, oddly enough, the problem of those
vexingly awkward hands persists in both. Why?
Disdain for Ritual
It is likely
that the ritual and custom has been forgotten altogether in the
passing of two generations alone. We see the proper posture of prayer
illustrated in all our religious statues (those that still remain)
and sacred art. But somehow we are obtuse to the inspiration that
such statuary and art is intended to invoke. We have somehow come
to believe that such postures of prayer are, in fact, factitious,
strained, unreal — that the people — of whom the statues are likenesses
only — prayed differently than portrayed by the artist or sculptor.
Perhaps only Saints prayed that way. But are we not all called to
emulate the saints? Why are we so afraid of the odor of sanctity?
Is there anything more beautiful than a Catholic conformed to Christ,
to the Saints who were conformed to Christ? We fear being seen as
Pharisees, hypocrites. Are there some? Yes, some. Are there Catholics
possessed of sanctity conferred upon them by God? Yes, some. Perhaps
many. But we are so afraid of the judgment of the world (which should
mean nothing to us)! Even of the judgment of our own brothers and
sisters in Christ. Rather than being pleasing in the sight of God
and Holy Church, we would please men?! Saint Paul is absolutely
clear about this: “For do I now persuade men,
or God? Or do I seek to please men? If I yet pleased men, I should
not be the servant of Christ.” 2
What, then, should be
our posture of prayer at Mass — and is it really important?
While standing
we see hands hanging limply, stuffed into pockets, clasped behind
backs, leaning, palms down, upon the back of the next pew. While
sitting they are stretched out on the pew behind them in a grand
and expansive gesture of detached (and irreverent) relaxation, or
caressing and massaging the backs or necks of their spouses, girlfriends
or boyfriends, folded across their chests as if in deliberation
or impatience, or as objects of sudden and peculiar interest to
them as they almost clinically examine their cuticles and fingernails.
While kneeling, the uncertainty of what to do with their hands is
particularly acute and most obvious. They are either limply hung
over the backrest of the pew in front of them, unjoined, crossed
at the wrists as if relaxed, or loosely clasped in a manner reminiscent
of piety, but diligently casual enough not to openly express it.
Going to Holy Communion they are at one’s sides, behind one’s back,
swinging in a natural gait, and, of course, casually folded, usually
to the maximum extent allowed by the length of one’s arms. Are we
embarrassed to hold our hands properly in prayer? Are we afraid
to be thought sanctimonious, putting our devotion on display? We
all kneel the same way: on our knees. Why cannot we hold our hands
the same way — expressing unity in all things in worship,
instead of the strident cry for diversity in all things?
Look at our children at their First Holy Communion. See how their
hands are folded as an example to us! Is that our way, then?
Teach our children one thing, and do another? Do only statues, following
our First Holy Communion, give us this example? And what is the
value of a statue if it does not inspire us and call us to emulate
Mary and the Saints? Do you not know that you are called to be a
saint, too?
Diversity
engenders division!
Do not
be your “own individual” at Mass. The Mass is not about
“you”
— it is about Christ — and also about unity through
Him, with Him, and in Him! “Ut unum sint”
… Christ prayed, “That they may be one”.
3 Have we not had enough of “diversity” at Mass, and
for far too long? Diversity engenders division! The very etymology
of the word derives from the Latin diversitatem, or “contrariety,
contradiction, disagreement”. “Diversity” has been the unrelenting
mantra of the “spirit” of the Second Vatican Council ... as
it has been implemented — and to what grievous an aftermath! The
“unity” so sought after became “diversity” and diversity became
division in every parish. No?
There IS Beauty in Uniformity
Contrary
to the prevailing mind-set, there is beauty in oneness in purpose
and expression. Can you imagine a stadium filled with people, each
singing their own version of the National Anthem — and each
a different tune? What is Dvorak’s New World Symphony if every symphony
orchestra played it, not according to the composer’s notation, but
to their own improvised notation? Whatever cacophony it becomes,
it does not remain, and will not be recognized, as the New World
Symphony composed by Dvorak. There is beauty, clarity, and united
purpose in harmony, in union, in oneness — when everyone is on the
same page and not on a page of their own choosing. Do you not see
this?
The Japanese
use an aphorism that is particularly apropos of this discussion:
“The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” What is incongruous
and not in harmony is discouraged. The trumpet player who plays
too loudly when his part is to be subdued, is corrected. The cellist
who spontaneously enters into a rhapsodic frenzy independent of
the composition and notation — ignoring the conductor — is scolded.
The desire to “stick out”, to “be observed”, to call attention to
oneself by not comporting oneself in harmony with all those around,
is nothing less than vanity and self-aggrandizement.
The absence of folded hands in prayer (and especially going to Holy
Communion — which, of course, the entire congregation does since
none are sinners any longer, or at least after Vatican II) is the
absence of reverence before the holy. Would you so insolently stride
up to Christ Himself (which you do) with hands carelessly hanging
like limp appendages at your sides, or stuffed into your pockets?
This speaks much about your faith — or lack of it. We would not
so casually greet a president or prime minister. Why? It would be
presumptuous and insolent —and you know it! But our Blessed Lord
...?
The Speed-Blessing
While we
are at it, and as an aside, but not without relevance, when you
bless yourself, realize in Whose Name you bless yourself: The Name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. In the name
of God Himself! Why do you make the Sign of the Cross so hastily
and often so sloppily? Think of what you are doing! Of Whom you
are invoking! Priests are often as guilty of this as laymen. The
SIGN OF THE CROSS (before which the devil flees and under
which Constantine conquered) you do as if it had no meaning, no
significance. The Sign of the Cross should be made slowly, reverently,
purposefully, thoughtfully — in recognition of Him Who in that act
anoints you! Why the speed-blessing? Is the Name of God, the
Sign of the Cross through which you have been purchased and redeemed
at so incalculable a cost … so trite? One observer of Saint Bernadette
was deeply struck by the way she made the Sign of the Cross while
praying before Mary at Lourdes. It was slow, each name uttered with
love, and totally, surpassingly, reverent! Should our signing ourselves
with the Cross be less reverent?
Not just what you pray, but how you pray, will be a witness
to the reality of God to others, not because you wish it to be,
but simply because it is so. In this sense you yourself, unknowingly,
become something of a sacramental.
OTHER FORMS OF HOLDING ONES
HANDS IN PRAYER
Given what
we have just said, it is nevertheless the case that some people
(since Vatican II) choose to hold their hands in prayer in
an idiosyncratic expression of their own personal and peculiar
iteration. Let us look at two physical attitudes of prayer that
we are likely to encounter at the Novus Ordo Mass:
-
The Orans (literally, “praying” in Latin) posture.
Here the supplicant holds one hands extended upward in imitation
of the priest at the Altar who does this according to
the rubrics in his Sacramental and priestly faculty in
representing the congregation. This has largely,
and illegitimately, come into practice through
so-called “Charismatic Catholics”, or the “Charismatic
Renewal” (yet another faction and another “renewal” in the Church,
and which provides “workshops” for learning glossolalia,
or “speaking in tongues” — the not-so-spontaneous
(because it is taught, studied, learned, and practiced
in these “workshops”) uttering of verbal nonsense — indecipherable
even to other “Charistmatics”, but presumably understandable
by God before Whom they hold themselves to spontaneously
aspire ... in what has in fact been taught, studied,
learned, and practiced!).
It is noteworthy that concelebrants of the Mass
(other priests) and deacons refrain — in compliance
with the rubrics of the Mass — from using the orans
posture; only the main celebrant is instructed to do so who,
once again, in himself represents all those present at
the Mass. This quasi-priestly orans gesture is yet another
instance of the increasing permeability between the Sanctuary
and the pews: we commonly see this when the priest illicitly
leaves the Sanctuary to be democratically immersed in the pews
as just “one of the guys” rather than an alter Christus
set apart, and the laity (mostly women) swarm the Sanctuary
in every “Ministry” (hence having “Ministers”) fabricated since
Vatican II. Prior to Vatican II Catholics had Priests
and Protestant had Ministers. We now have both, and many
more “Ministers” than Priests.
Is the orans posture uniquely Catholic? No! Until
the “Charismatic Renewal” that renewed nothing, it was confined
to emotionally-imbued Protestant revivalist meetings, American
Pentecostalists, and Evangelicals. Yes, there are some ancient
Catholic murals depicting people praying in the orans
posture — just as it is found in pre-Christian pagan illustrations
and engravings in Egypt and Mesopotamia. In a word there is
nothing at all distinctively Catholic in this posture of prayer.
Is it bad? No. No form of genuine prayer is bad. Is it liturgically
correct? No. It is the the proverbial
“Deru kugi wa utareru”,
the nail sticking up calling for attention (St. Matthew
6.5), when our attention should be directed to God Alone in
the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
-
Hands Cupped. We are uncertain of
the origin of this posture of prayer which most likely derives
from the Muslim tradition of the 19th Rakat of the
Salat in private prayer: “Say personal prayers
with hands cupped and palms up at chest level.” 4
There is no precedent in Catholicism —or Christianity
— for holding ones hands in this manner during prayer. Presumably
it is an attitude of receptiveness to God's blessings as a cup
receives water. This is a charitable interpretation. According
to AllExperts, in Buddhism, “hands are a little cupped
rather than strictly palm-to-palm, because they are supposed
to represent a lotus bud — that pure, beautiful flower that
grows up out of the mud!” 5 Once again, there
is not only nothing distinctly Catholic in this attitude of
prayer, apart from the idiosyncrasy of the one praying, but
no apparent association with Christianity at all. Once again
it is
“Deru kugi wa utareru.”
Ut unum sint! “That
they may be one.” Such a beautiful
— and since Vatican II — elusive desideration!
__________________________
1
Philippians 2:10
2 Gal. 1.10
3 St. John 17:21
4 http://sufism.org/foundations/salaat/salaat-2
5
http://en.allexperts.com/q/Buddhists-948/2008/4/Prayer-Hands.htm
Geoffrey K. Mondello
Editor
Boston Catholic Journal
Printable PDF Version