I do not have a problem with the Book of Alternative Services, the Vatican II revisions, or any other such work. The Book of Common Prayer is in some ways, I believe, a more mature work; it is structured in such a manner to move a congregation from point A to B to C etc. It does this through a singular focus of services and readings. I have discussed this in my enchiridion. The newer books provide a treasure trove of texts for use, but they do not provide a unified plan; it falls to the minister to take the texts and make them alive, relevant, and directive. And there is the problem.
In times past there was less room for variation, there was more sensitivity concerning the mystery and majesty of why we were gathered. Dignity and decorum were the rule on both sides of the sanctuary rail. There was room for variance, but it was minimalized by the directions and expectations of the rites. That is not to say there was a time of unfailing perfection. In my day I witnessed priests who rushed through the service, priests who were not as delicate or precise about the sacred choreography. And there were some who perhaps took it too far. I once served at mass in a private chapel for a bishop of some celebrity. At the end of mass I wanted to applaud and ask for an encore—benediction perhaps. He moved with astonishing fluidity throughout the service. Every step, every move was meticulously performed to flow into the next. I think even the fringes on the maniple had been rehearsed into this sacred dance. It was an act of beauty, and perhaps in a great church and seen from a distance it might well have contributed to a sense of awe and majesty. Up close and in private it all made for the rapture and envy of a balletomane.
Today we have amassed a clergy without a sense of dignity or decorum. They try to be relevant by being folksy. They forget that they are ministers of sacred mysteries, servants of things holy and a people called to be holy. They forget bodily movement and rhythm are elements of communication. I have encountered more than a few who were not at all conversant or familiar with the instructions for the rites or the full body of rites authorized, more than a few who had not bothered to read canon law, and even one who wanted to “put together something” for an occasion when Rome had already provided a rite for exactly that occasion. I do not know the cliff off which clerical education has veered. Expertise in matters dogmatic, liturgical, and spiritual seems no longer to be the goal. Now that the cassock has become a thing of times past, what distinguishes cleric from the good intentioned church lady or usher?
In matters of liturgy, thought, study and discipline are mandatory. The minister of the word and sacrament must prepare to use the texts and the actions to convey his charges into a sense of the holy, guide and direct them to grow into the holy. This can happen only with persistence and dedication of all involved. But, it can happen. Again, I have been witness to more disasters at the altar than one might think humanly possible. There have been occasions when I thought there would be more style and grace were we at a country fair. There have been times when I doubted anyone else present had ever been to a mass before. And there have been times when the same book, the same rite was in the hands of someone who understood them, the people, and the vocation to be holy. I had occasion to assist Aidan Kavanagh at the altar, and his works on liturgy, as wonderful as they are, pale before what he could convey in the course of celebrating the sacred mysteries. He was a gifted teacher, writer, and priest, but his craftsmanship was also one that did not fall out of the sky upon him, it was honed by years of dedicated reflection and practice. One who would minister the sacred mysteries in the sanctuary and in the privacy of spiritual direction must undertake to learn, to reflect, to practice, to dedicate oneself to the holy and the translation of the holy to others. One does not need to pursue a degree in parochial administration, social work or psychology; one needs to ground oneself in the spirituality of the confession of faith, its celebration and its transmittal.
In short, I have no issue with a book. A book is a thing, a tool. My issue rests with those who would acclaim themselves professionals and have no idea, no proficiency, and seemingly no self-understanding that their job is to be able to use the tools of their trade with precision, skill, grace, and gratitude. One can relate and transmit things of deepest mystery and awe to the most common of men without being condescending, silly, frivolous, or folksy. We all have an open-end to the un-answerable questions of life, and none of us come seeking to deal with such in a manner trite.