by Fred Moleck
Liturgical Voyeurism
We've all done it. We've all been a victim of it. Sometimes, the act is done as a whim. Sometimes, it is iron clad compulsion. What starts off as a simple exercise in comparative liturgical practices quickly emerges as a perversion of innocent curiosity.
For whatever reasons, be they socio-economic or spiritual barrenness, the practice is firmly established in both high church liturgy and low church liturgy.
Some places where the practice occurs with particular intensity is at church musician gatherings, such as last summer's NPM convention. It can also be detected a local chapters of the AGO.
No organization is exempt. All have been caught in "liturgical voyeurism."
"Surely, not I," you whimper. Most certainly, you, and me, and many of our friends have indulged in this less-than-honorable past time.
If you can answer yes to at least four of the following questions, you are a liturgical voyeur.
- Do I find myself complaining to the person beside me at a convention liturgy half way through the entrance piece?
- Am I critical of registrations on the organ that is played by somebody other than myself?
- Do I scowl at the family in front of me who are not singing anything while I am singing everything from the top of my lungs, or, at least, it sounds like that to my frontal neighbors?
- Do I just drop by a friend's church for a celebration of the liturgy-any liturgy-just to see "how they do it here," knowing full well that I won't like much of it?
- Do I block out the fine leadership of the cantor and the deacon who sings because I "just can't believe" that they actually still sing "On Eagle's Wings?"
- Do I ignore the obviously stronger singing and confidence of the assembly as they sing "On Eagle's Wing" because I still "just can't believe" that they are still singing "On Eagle Wings"?
- Do I feel a little unattached to the community when I approach the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus in the Communion procession because my fellow processors are not singing like I would like them to sing?
You are blinded by the dusty plastic flowers near the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. You are tempted to unplug the electronic organ to get rid of the vibrato. You want to become a Lutheran.
It doesn't take much to cross over the line from these inevitable judgments and then plummet into outright meanness in judging our less-than-musical fellow pilgrims.
When that happens, we become voyeurs. We cease from staring with awe at the One we gather to worship, and we narrow our vision as we fashion in our hearts a small golden calf.
We gawk at it. When that happens too many times, we are compulsive liturgical voyeurs.
How did you score on your Are You a Liturgical Voyeur quiz? I racked up a full seven. I need to seek out a competent liturgical shrink. Know anyone?
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@earthlink.net