By Charles A. Coulombe
2006 ROAMIN' CATHOLIC
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ROAMIN' CATHOLIC
November/December 2006
ST. JUDE THE APOSTLE, WESTLAKE VILLAGE
The Prodigal Returns
St. Jude the Apostle Church (32032 West Lindero Canyon Road, Westlake Village) is typical of many outlying parishes in Los Angeles County. Westlake Village itself is filled with the tract-o-rama homes, thanks to white flight from the San Fernando Valley and elsewhere. This flow of overwhelmingly Anglo immigrants has breathed life into the once-modest parish founded in 1970, allowing for construction of a physically impressive, if not traditionally Catholic, plant in recent years.
St. Jude's resemblance to a traditional Catholic church is confined to the pleasant brown wood statues of the Virgin and Child and St. Joseph to the right of the worship space, the welcoming statue of Mary near the main entrance, and the tasteful little tabernacle banished off to a separate chapel. The worship space itself holds a small wooden holy table, flanked on the left by a squat lectern, and on the right, by a crucifix of traditional design. Near the main entrance of the church is a large stone pond, which doubles as baptismal pool and holy water font. Above all, the church is airy, lit by large-windows, and free from much decoration. The first few rows are chairs rather than pews.
When the parish was first founded, it asked the aid of nearby St. John's Seminary, Camarillo. The seminary was a thriving institution that was able to lend the services of one of its faculty, a young priest named William Levada. For six years he offered Mass on Sundays at the parish as a supply priest and left many happy memories with the parishioners.
On August 6, 2006, the feast of the Transfiguration, I attended the noon Mass at St. Jude's. As in its early years, the parish was, that Sunday, served by a supply priest. And, as in the early years, that priest was William Levada, now Cardinal William Levada, prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and third ranking official of the Catholic Church, after the pope and the Holy See's secretary of state.
I was curious to see what would result from the meeting of the Roman prelate and the ultra-moderne parish. In keeping with the cardinal's new status and the often-expressed wishes of Benedict XVI, would there be Latin? Would there be chant? Would any of Cardinal Mahony's peculiar liturgical innovations (at least one outlawed expressly by the Holy See) be employed?
As I drove up, I noticed a mass of protesters around the entrance to the parking lot. Many carried placards denouncing pedophilia, and one carried a cross covered with photos of victims, similar to the one in a side chapel of Cardinal Mahony's cathedral. As I pulled in, I was handed a leaflet that asked for justice.
Inside, the church was packed with a primarily Anglo congregation made up of all ages. The choir members were in their places as I hurried to find a seat. The procession was impressive: Knights of Columbus in full regalia, Knights of Malta in choir robes, religious (including, I suspect, a Benedictine abbot -- at least, he was in a black habit and zucchetto), a horde of priests, and, at last, in miter and gold chasuble, the cardinal-prefect himself. Instead of a Latin hymn, we heard Marty Haugen's arrangement of "How Lovely is Your Dwelling Place." Most of the party took up places in the front rows, while the cardinal sat upon a chair.
The pastor, Monsignor William Leser, went to the lectern and welcomed Cardinal Levada. He then acknowledged the protesters outside and admitted that some of the clerics of the archdiocese had abused their office. "But please bring this message, when you go back to Rome, to the pope," said Leser to Levada. "Most of our brothers have been very faithful. We want His Holiness to know that." He went on to recall the cardinal's time at St. Jude 's and that many among the layfolk there present had known him.
In response, Cardinal Levada spoke of his joy at having served the parish and his pleasure at being back, as well as asking for prayers for the pope and himself. His Eminence then began the Mass. After the confession of sins and the Lord Have Mercy, the choir launched into Peter Jones' call-and-response version of the Glory to God.
The cardinal then chanted the opening prayer in traditional tone, albeit in English. A lector did the first reading, in which Daniel speaks of seeing how "thrones were set up and the Ancient One took his throne," an Old Testament prefiguring of the Transfiguration. For the Responsorial Psalm, Rory Cooney's version of "The Lord is King" was used. A lectoress read St. Paul's reference to the Transfiguration in Ephesians, while a priest read St. Mark's account of the event.
Then Cardinal Levada took the lectern. After referring to his time at St. Jude's, Levada launched into the body of his homily. Dwelling upon the intensity of the light that shone from the transfigured Christ, the cardinal declared that we are bound to follow the light. "The Transfiguration was not just for the Apostles but for all of us who have come after," he said. "We are given two duties. The first, as with them, is to stay close to Jesus, in His light. We do that through the Church and Sacraments, through Baptism and the Eucharist. But the second is to also do as they did, to be true witnesses to that light. Not just in terms of seeing it, but in proclaiming it loudly, in word, deed, and example."
Then the holy table was prepared, and the army of priests took their places behind it. As the gifts were brought up, the choir belted out, "The Power of the Cross." Up to this point, the Mass had featured neither Latin nor chant, although some of the hymns did feature a vigorous backbeat with drums and cymbals. But would Cardinal Mahony's practice of using glass pitchers for the Blood of Christ or the Church's stricture against it be observed? In 2004, when the Congregation for Divine Worship, in its decree, Redemptionis Sacramentum, "reprobated" the use of "vessels made from glass, earthenware, clay, or other materials that break easily" in which to confect the Precious Blood at Mass, Cardinal Mahony disregarded it. Instead, he gave permission to use glass vessels in the archdiocese.
This being the case, I watched attentively to see if the pitchers would be brought out. Although the liturgy is not within the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith's purview, could not the use of the glassware in sight of such a high-ranking prelate be seen as a direct insult to Rome? If it did make its appearance, would the cardinal react at all? If not, could this not be seen as Roman tolerance of violation of its own decrees? Whatever answers there may be to these questions, out came the pitchers, although the chalice was lovely with gold and silver.
However untraditional the glass pitchers, Cardinal Levada chanted the English prayer over the gifts to the old tune. He also used the First Eucharistic Prayer, the "Roman Canon." The Holy, Holy, Holy and Lamb of God were sprightly, while Cardinal Mahonyorder to stand after the latter prayer (a practice unknown outside the dioceses of the Province of Los Angeles) was observed. The presence of so many priests precluded the use of Eucharistic ministers. John Michael Talbot's "I Am The Bread of Life" and Kate Cuddy's "With This Bread" provided communicants with musical accompaniment as they received the Blessed Sacrament.
"Evermore I'll Sing Your Praise" by Liam Lawton set the tone for post-communion meditation; by way of contrast, the cardinal chanted the prayer after communion. A round of applause greeted Levada afterwards, and the impressive party recessed to the tune of Lawrence Rosania's "Blessing of Blessings."
A buffet was set out for the reception in the spacious parish hall, and a long line formed to greet Cardinal Levada, replete with photo ops, of which I availed myself. After leaving the place, however, I reflected that, that Sunday at St. Jude's, I had received a vision of Rome in the Conejo Valley.
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