Has Concelebration Affected Church Architecture?

Anyone going on pilgrimage to the Cathedrals and Basilicas in Europe will be struck by how many side altars there are in these majestic structures dedicated to worshipping God. In the Rosary Basilica in Lourdes there are fifteen, one for each of the mysteries of the Holy Rosary. Each of them has an exquisite mosaic and unique tabernacle and floor. They are truly inspiring altars and side chapels. I have been to Lourdes numerous times and have never seen them used nor have I heard of anyone being allowed to use them anymore. At Ars there are the famous side altars mentioned in the life of St. Jean Marie Vianney such as that dedicated to his heavenly helper, St. Philomena. In all the basilicas in Rome there are numerous side altars. Some of them are specially dedicated to a saint whose relics are laid out in a  crystalline coffin under the altar. St. Pius X and St. Josaphat and Bl. Innocent XI in St. Peter’s come to mind. In Florence there is St. Antoninus in San Marco, and St. Juliana Falconari in the Basilica della Santissima Annunziata. The reason they are rarely used? Concelebration.

 On the other hand, in the various traditional Benedictine monasteries like that of the Abbeys of Sainte-Madeleine in Le Barroux and Notre Dame in Fontgombault, France, you will get a taste of how things once were. Daily, you will see all the monks go to various side altars to offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass privately before they gather later to participate in the conventual Mass. Not too long ago, before Pope Francis, priests would arrive at the sacristy of St. Peter’s in Rome early in the morning to be assigned some side altar to offer the Mass privately. They are expected to concelebrate now.

If these basilicas and shrines were to be rebuilt today, would there even be any side altars? Most likely the answer is NO. If they did, they would only be a sort of faux side altar reminiscent of the altars of yesteryear. The modern rite of concelebration is the reason. Thus, they build churches today in the round with a table as the focus with plenty of room for concelebration. But then again, not many Catholics make much effort to visit these places either.

When commemorating the dedication of these great basilicas of Holy Mother Church the Introit used quotes Genesis: “Terrible is this place: it is the house of God, and the gate of heaven” (28:17). In describing dedication of the Lateran Basilica, the Cathedral of Rome, the Roman Martyrology says it is “the Mother and Head of all churches in the city and the world.” This very same saying is also found inscribed on the front of this same church. The dedication of this ancient structure is so important that it replaces the normal Sunday Mass thereby giving the faithful an opportunity to meditate upon the reasons we take even the physical structures of our churches seriously.

There is an ancient Latin phrase that comes to our aid. It goes all the way back to St. Prosper of Aquitaine (d. 463). It is commonly expressed as “lex orandi est lex credendi” which basically means the rule of prayer is essentially connected to the rule of belief. That is, we believe according to how we pray. In discussing this ancient phrase, Pope Pius XII taught: “The entire liturgy … has the Catholic faith for its content, inasmuch as it bears public witness to the faith of the Church.”[1]

As a result of this intimate connection between prayer and belief, Pope Pius goes on to say, “during the discussion of a doubtful or controversial truth, the Church and the Holy Fathers have not failed to look to the age-old and age-honored sacred rites for enlightenment.”[2] In other words, the Sacred and Ancient Liturgy has always been considered a “theological source” from which the Church and Her leaders help define a truth as revealed by God.[3] This principle tells us the modern rite of concelebration is controversial because it is effectively eliminating a time honored practice—the private Mass—and a time honored architectural feature—the side chapel/altar.

Let’s see this principle in action by noting the very month in which the dedication of St. John Lateran falls, the month of November, which the Church dedicates to the Poor and Holy Souls in Purgatory. In order to help these souls reach their heavenly home, the Holy Church, as a loving Mother, provides us many liturgical ways to do this, among them each priest is encouraged to offer three requiem Masses on All Souls Day. She also opens up to these same Poor Souls Her treasury of graces and merits by offering plenary indulgences for the simplest acts and prayers. She also provides privileged altars for their release, many of which are side altars. All of this shows that there is a Purgatory and, as the Traditional Prayers indicate, these souls are not yet in a place of refreshment, light, rest or peace… that they still need to be delivered from the effects of sin and the pains of hell with the fires of Purgatory being the same as those of hell but only temporary. Thus the antiphon for the Offertory at Requiem Masses reads in part: “O Lord, Jesus Christ, King of glory, deliver the souls of all the faithful departed from the pains of hell and the deep pit; deliver them from the lion’s mouth, that hell engulf them not, nor they fall into darkness, but that Michael, the holy standard-bearer, bring them into the holy light which You once promised to Abraham and his seed.” Lex orandi—Lex credendi.

Since the Church is the perfect society, containing in Herself all truth, beauty, and goodness with all Her parts interconnected, we can add on a few things to this fundamental phrase of St. Prosper. In keeping with our discussion of architecture we might say: lex orandi—lex credendi—lex ædificandi, by which we mean simply as we pray, so we believe, and so we build.  We build our churches according to how we pray and what we believe. Thus, the architecture of our churches should indicate the profound truths of our Holy Catholic Faith and the Divine Liturgy being offered within them.

In this regard, the Lateran Basilica has some important points to consider. First, it is built in the shape of a cross. The main act of worship transpiring inside of our churches is the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass wherein Calvary is made present again. And so we build our churches to express this mystery: Cross-shaped for Christ crucified on Calvary. Not surprisingly this Basilica has numerous side chapels and altars for offering private Masses.

We also know and believe, as St. Paul teaches, the Church is the Body of Christ and we are individually members of it. With the head being in the Sanctuary, we have the tabernacle in the middle of the altar, housing Christ the Head present on earth until the end of time. We also have the altar in the head area, for our worship is primarily of the intellect and will (thus the presence of the word rationabilem, that is, rational and reasonable, in the Quam oblationem of the Canon of the Mass just before the consecration and the exhortation of St. Paul to the Romans: “I BESEECH you therefore, brethren, by the mercy of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God, your reasonable service [i.e., worship]” (12:1)). Thus we may not always feel like something happens at the Holy Mass but we know by faith something mysteriously wonderful does indeed take place. The place where the faithful sit is the body or the nave. We have doorways where the glorious wounds are symbolically located, and the baptismal font represents the side of Christ where we first entered (recall the Anima Christi prayer of St. Ignatius: within Thy wounds, I long to hide, never to be parted from Thy side). We have holy water at the doors of the church so that we may renew our baptismal vows in order to call to mind how we first entered the Body of Christ through baptism. The Confessionals are also located near the wounds (i.e., the doors) to enable the sinner to return to life in the Church if he had the misfortune to fall into mortal sin. Lex orandi—Lex aedificandi.

Second, in the nave along the main pillars of the Lateran Basilica are the statues of the twelve Apostles. Here, then, we see the twelve foundation stones mentioned in the description of the Heavenly Jerusalem in the Apocalypse. Thus, the Church is Apostolic in Her foundation. All of our prayers and articles of faith must somehow reach back to them to be truly Catholic. The Church is not a place for novelties. We should not wonder, then, that this very church has had no less than five ecumenical councils held within its confines.

Third, the ceiling of this excellent structure is intricate and beautiful, all gold leafed. It is among the most striking parts of the church and represents the Church Triumphant. We believe that those who persevere in the Body of the Church, in the nave (i.e., the Church Militant), will someday be taken up into the Church Triumphant: pure gold having been purified by fire.

Finally, the baptistery of St. John Lateran is octagonal in shape, symbolizing the eighth day of heaven. Here, through baptism, we have entered into the gates that lead to paradise. What is more, in the chapel of that baptistery is a striking painting of a martyrdom. The message is clear. When we are baptized, we are to choose death rather than giving up our baptismal vows! Death before sin!

Although there are certainly many more details that could be considered, we can easily see even from these few facts that clear, defined, detailed, and ordered art and architecture represent clear and defined truths or doctrines. “Truth is beautiful in itself,”[4] and so ought to be the art that represents it. Flipping this over, we can also observe how undefined, amorphous art equals undefined and amorphous doctrine.  Art that is so abstract it could mean anything equals doctrine that is abstract and could mean whatever people want it to mean. Go to any metropolitan art museum and you will find a progression starting from detailed and inspiring works of art of the Middle Ages to art works that become more and more abstract and strange, starting around the 17th Century and beyond, reaching to our own day. This is a clear sign of the attack that truth has been enduring for some centuries now.

Sadly, this attack seems to have entered into our very church structures. One way to see this is to reflect on how the Holy Mass has two major elements just as the Cross it re-presents. The vertical element is the Sacrifice. The horizontal is the banquet aspect of the Mass, that is, rite of Holy Communion. It is no secret that many today place all the stress on the banquet or even the unity of man with man. Listen to Fr. Mateo Crawley: “Alas, for many good Christians the Eucharist consists merely of Holy Communion. … For too many Holy Mass is, after all, but the liturgical key which opens the tabernacle door.” If we concentrate only on the banquet part of Mass, what will our churches begin to look like? Banquet halls with one big table to show unity of man with man. They will be “in the round,” so that all can gather about that table more on their horizontal level instead of ascending up to the high altar of God in the head of the body. Since the emphasis has changed to the banquet—the more human or horizontal elements—the table altar is often brought out of the head into the nave thereby making Mass something more of the body (passions/feelings) rather than of the soul (intellect and will), seeking to make it an emotional experience (this is also very obvious in the choice of music used at the various modern Masses). Thus, people often speak about coming to church “to get something out of” the Mass and “feel” like they have worshipped, rather than coming to offer themselves and their sacrifices in union with Christ and Him Crucified. True worship is based on Sacrifice, not emotions!

There are other elements that might be considered, such as the strong emphasis placed on having to hear everything. Thus, our new church structures tend to be more like lecture halls with good acoustics, expensive sound, lighting and environmental control systems. Very horizontal… very human… begging the question what is the lex orandi—lex credendi here, based on what we see from the lex aedificandi?

Furthermore, if the Mass is primarily or only a banquet, what happens if someone is not able to receive Holy Communion? Why go to Mass at all? This is a problem today. Or what happens when the priest wants to offer his own Mass in a side chapel or in a more intimate way to build up his priestly spirituality, his intimacy with God? Discouraged! This too is a problem today.

The Synod on the Family and Marriage comes to mind. Does not the over-emphasis on the banquet element of the Mass have a major or even essential role to play here? The divorced and remarried people and others living in objective mortal sin want to be like everyone else: participating in the banquet. Thus, they want their place at the “table” without changing their life. It seems to me that the creepy Aleister Crowley had something of this in mind when he formulated his own black mass of sorts, calling it the “Gnostic Catholic mass.” In this evil ceremony the participants openly profess that the whole of the law is to do what they want, and then everyone present must receive of the goblet of wine and communion bread, stating: “There is no part of me that is not of the Gods.” What a shame! What a diabolical disorientation!

Without doubt, we build our physical church buildings to represent a spiritual reality, namely our beliefs and our prayers. This is one reason for the importance of dedicating a church. It represents what we believe and how we pray. The fact that we are building round churches and putting altars in the middle like tables indicates that we are fleeing the Cross, placing the belief in man rather than God.

It is no wonder the side altars have all but fell into complete disuse and concelebration is promoted everywhere. Personally, I have seen potted plants placed on these exquisite altars or something like a big picture/icon for the Jubilee year or some other kind of modern devotional item is placed on their sacred surfaces, seemingly, in order to obscure their original purpose. At St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Bordeaux, like so many other Cathedrals and Basilicas all across Europe, has various museum like displays in the side chapels. What is more, as mentioned earlier, some of these altars are privileged altars. It seems the poor souls in Purgatory are not in need as they once were. Lex orandi—Lex credendi—Lex aedificandi.

Another aspect presents itself to the thoughtful observer. The major basilicas, cathedrals and shrines of old all had to adjust to the new norms for the New Rite of Mass. Almost every one of them failed in doing this well. That is, the new separated or table altar is normally not properly proportioned to the church structure. Neither do they fit in well with the ancient architecture for many reasons. Some are made of lesser quality materials (e.g., the new altar at inspiring Chiesa di Sant’Agnese in Agone off the Piazza Navona in Rome is made of glass) while others are much more plain or made of conflicting artwork to the surround basilica. In other words, they are ugly.

These new designs contradict what St. Thomas Aquinas teaches: “Beauty includes three conditions, (i) integrity or perfection, since those things impaired are by that very fact ugly; (ii) due proportion or harmony; and lastly, (iii) brightness or clarity, whence things are called beautiful which have a bright color.”[5] In another place he says: “As may be gathered from the words of Dionysius, beauty or comeliness results from the concurrence of clarity and due proportion. For he states that God is said to be beautiful as being ‘the cause of the harmony and clarity of the universe’.”[6] St. Thomas adds: “beauty relates to the cognitive faculty; for beautiful things are those which please when seen. Hence, beauty consists in due proportion; for the senses delight in the things duly proportioned.”[7] The new altars are rarely proportional and rarely blend in with their surroundings (i.e., they are not integral). Thus the inescapable conclusion is: they are ugly.

St. Thomas continues: “The beautiful is the same as the good, and they differ in aspect only. For since the good is what all seek, the notion of good is that which calms the desire; while the notion of the beautiful is that which calms the desire, by being seen or known. Consequently, those senses chiefly regard the beautiful, which are the most cognitive, namely sight and hearing, as ministering to reason, for we speak of beautiful sights and beautiful sounds.”[8] With the side altars in a state of disuse and neglect along with the table altar most always being a sort of alien addition, we cannot but conclude they are not only ugly, but also cause unease in the soul of the faithful. The conclusion is obvious: the modern rites of concelebration have contributed to the destruction of church architecture and its perennial beauty that serves to bring calm to the restless soul of man.

As many priests will attest, they love a private Mass because of the intimacy it offers. And this is greatly enhanced when they can offer the Holy Sacrifice on a beautiful side altar.

As a final and personal note, when I go on pilgrimage or visit one of these sites, I used to long to say Mass on one of these side altars. I once was privileged to offer the Mass on the altar in St. Peter’s over the incorrupt body of Pope Pius X. Oh how refreshing that was, save for the noise coming all the way across the nave of the greatest basilica of Christendom from a large concelebrated Mass on the tomb of John Paul II. For now, I bring a well equipped Mass kit and offer the Holy Sacrifice in a rented flat. Sad to say, this is more peaceful and much less stressful. Someday I hope they will restore the purpose for which the side altars were built and let me and other priests offer the Holy Sacrifice once again—at the side altars. Someday.

[1] Pope Pius XII, Encl. “Mediator Dei,” no. 47.

[2] Ibid., no. 48.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2500.

[5] St. Thomas Aquinas, ST, I, 39, 8.

[6] Ibid., II-II, 145, 2.

[7] Ibid., I, 4, ad1.

[8] Ibid., I-II, 27, 1, ad 3.