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CONSTITUTION
ON THE SACRED LITURGY SACROSANCTUM CONCILIUM 2. For the liturgy, "through which the work of our redemption is accomplished," [1] most of all in the divine sacrifice of the Eucharist, is the outstanding means whereby the faithful may express in their lives, and manifest to others, the mystery of Christ and the real nature of the true Church. It is of the essence of the Church that she be both human and divine, visible and yet invisibly equipped, eager to act and yet intent on contemplation, present in this world and yet not at home in it; and she is all these things in such wise that in her the human is directed and subordinated to the divine, the visible likewise to the invisible, action to contemplation, and this present world to that city yet to come, which we seek [2]. While the liturgy daily builds up those who are within into a holy temple of the Lord, into a dwelling place for God in the Spirit [3], to the mature measure of the fullness of Christ [4], at the same time it marvelously strengthens their power to preach Christ, and thus shows forth the Church to those who are outside as a sign lifted up among the nations [5] under which the scattered children of God may be gathered together [6], until there is one sheepfold and one shepherd [7]. ___________________________________________________ Paragraph 2 summarizes the role of sacraments [the liturgy] in God’s plan of salvation, as the acts by which “the work of our redemption is accomplished.” The word “liturgy” comes from the Latin “work” or “public works.” This belief in the power of the sacraments distinguishes Catholicism from other Christian faiths in varying degrees, both in number [seven] and in the active participation in all its members. Many Reformation thinkers took issue with what they saw as an abundance of emphasis upon human works as opposed to total dependence upon God for justification. Catholicism calls for full human participation in its rites of salvation. The citation specifically references the Eucharist, though all the sacraments constitute the sacred liturgy. Our use of the word “liturgy” is often interchanged with Mass, which can be confusing at times. It is true that Baptism/Confirmation and Eucharist enjoy a preeminence given their roles in the initial act of human conversion and union into the merits of the cross. Sacraments such as Penance and Anointing of the Sick continue and reinforce divine saving work after initial conversion and redemption experience of Baptism and Eucharist throughout life. The four sacraments after initiation—Penance, Marriage, Orders, and Anointing of the Sick—are actually There is considerable emphasis upon the sacraments in the life and definition of the Church itself. Ideally, an impartial observer should be able to observe a sacrament, particularly the Mass, and understand by words and signs who we are and what we stand for. Para.2 lists the ideal outcomes: that the Church is human and divine, “visible and yet invisibly equipped;” eager to act and yet intent on contemplation; present in this world and yet not at home in it; and that the acting Church is subordinated to the divine. These emphases are a lot to absorb here at one sitting, and these points will be taken up in later posts, but there are several themes that immediately rise to the surface. I do not know the individual who coined the phrase “the Church is a both/and institution,” but the life of Catholicism has shown time and time again a resiliency to embrace what may seem to be opposite ends of the spectrum. Our creed embodies the greatest contradiction of all, that God became man, and Jesus is truly God and truly man per the Christological Councils if the fifth century. The world of the spirit is not binary, where a thing is either 1 or 0. [This truth escaped the manualist moral theologians of the four centuries prior to Vatican II, too.] So, we need not be surprised that our liturgy reflects a synthesis of qualities, such as active and passive, human and divine. The Church clearly envisions its sacraments as sanctifiers—that is, the experiences that bring us to grace—and as generators of the Church’s mission to preach the Gospel to the world “to those who are outside,” to show that the Church is “lifted up among all the nations,” where the scattered children of God may be gathered together. Consider the Gospel of St. Luke, where Jesus enters the home of Zacchaeus the tax collector precisely because Zacchaeus is one of the lost sons of Israel. The final sentence looks to a day when there is one sheepfold and one shepherd as the result of the sacramental life. I would need to read an English translation of the debate to satisfy one of my questions, that is, the identity of the “one shepherd.” The footnote references John 10:16, specifically Jesus’ sermon on the Good Shepherd, whom he identifies as himself. A papal interpretation here seems weak. All the sacraments, in truth, are oriented toward the future if you think about it, both the immediate future as in “take up your cross daily” in St. Luke’s text, or the consummation of time and the arrival of the Kingdom as in “come ye blessed of my Father, and inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” I have a link here to treatment of sacraments in the Roman Catechism published shortly after the conclusion of the Council of Trent in 1563. The contrast with the Vatican II document here reveals a much greater dependence upon both Scripture and the active role of the laity in the 1963 document. The Roman Catechism resembles in style the confessional manuals used by confessors and professors in moral theology of the day, I might add.
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Here's a first for the Cafe. I wrote today's post for the wrong day. This morning I discussed Bernard Haring's autobiography for the morality stream, which of course is Morality Monday. Duh. Anyway, it's posted on Monday's stream. Too much Halloween candy; it's going to my brain. I'll get the appropriate entry here eventually.
CONSTITUTION
ON THE SACRED LITURGY SACROSANCTUM CONCILIUM SOLEMNLY PROMULGATED BY HIS HOLINESS POPE PAUL VI ON DECEMBER 4, 1963 INTRODUCTION 1. This sacred Council has several aims in view: it desires to impart an ever-increasing vigor to the Christian life of the faithful; to adapt more suitably to the needs of our own times those institutions which are subject to change; to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ; to strengthen whatever can help to call the whole of mankind into the household of the Church. The Council therefore sees particularly cogent reasons for undertaking the reform and promotion of the liturgy. Yesterday (Saturday) both Margaret and I were out for the day giving workshops in different locations, and I am very grateful for the hospitality I received at Ascension Catholic Church in Melbourne, Florida, which provided cuisine and professional support. It is always edifying to see a gathering of Catholic school teachers and principals, on our first genuinely cool day of the fall, no less. If some of those in attendance are visiting the Catechist Café for the first time, welcome aboard! Over the past few months I have dedicated Saturdays to a review of sacraments in terms of the Church’s developing understanding of its rites over the span of its history. Earlier in October I noted the contributions of the popes Pius X and Pius XII, which brings us to the Council Vatican II (1962-1965). The Vatican II document “Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy” is the most significant teaching on the sacraments since the Council of Trent, which unified a variety of sacramental rites from around Europe into one standard formula in the late 1500’s. The thought occurred to me recently that it might be useful to examine the actual text of what the Church taught about our sacraments in 1963, when the Constitution was formally promulgated by Pope Paul VI (John XXIII died earlier that year.) I will admit that for me this would constitute my first analytical study of the text. In truth, I would wager that very few Catholics have ever read any of the Vatican II texts, and there are legitimate reasons for that. The official documents of the Council as printed in a standard translation such as Austin Flannery’s edition run to about one thousand pages. The documents were released in Latin primarily in December of 1963, 1964, and particularly 1965, the year of the final session. In the days before the internet, accessibility to the texts themselves was not as easy as one might think. The first wave of people to truly digest the contents of the Council were academics. My first introduction to the raw text, so to speak, was in 1969, when my novice master walked us religious newbies through Vatican II’s Perfectae Caritatis, the decree on religious life. Then in 1973 the Constitution on the Church was on the reading list of my graduate ecclesiology course. I can’t recall the text coming up in my oral exam, though. In truth, what I know of the Council Documents—aside from historical commentaries of the event itself, such as Xavier Rynne’s “undercover” reporting of the Council—comes from the integration of that material into every course I have taken and every theology text I have read up to and including the present day. This is true of the catechetical series in use in your home parish. It is even true of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which draws entire segments from various Vatican II constitutions, decrees, and documents. I will digress here for a moment to make mention of a large group that did not have the advantages I had of receiving detailed information and analyses of Vatican II’s teachings from professionals: the local clergy and the laity in general, most of whom were introduced to Vatican II when the word came down to switch from Latin to English. The “roll-out” period was unnecessarily rapid, rushed, and probably undertaken with little time for reflection and explanation. The confusion and bitterness of those early post-Vatican II days lingers—and in some cases has been passed on generationally. I will address that down the road. But to the text at the top pf the page, you are looking at the very first writing of the Council about worship and sacraments. As this is the first major document of the Council to be promulgated, the writers provide an overview of the aims of the entire Vatican II assembly, not just liturgy and worship. The first aim or hope of the fathers was greater vigor in the living of the Christian life. While the intent here is certainty the increased piety of the Church at the local level, there was an expectation that the vigor of the faith would prevent such moral catastrophes as world wars and the Holocaust. The second goal is the adaptation of the Church to “the needs of our own times” “the institutions subject to change.” There are multiple implications of this sentence. It is the Church that does the adapting, acknowledging the reality that elements of its life have been found wanting, or have become roadblocks to its work. The text refers to specific institutions worthy of reform: in the discussion leading up to December, 1963 Cardinal Fringes famously declared that Cardinal Ottaviani’s Holy Office at the Vatican itself was in grave need of reform. However, the term “institution” here can be applied to a great number of things, from Canon Law to seminaries to sacramental rites, and even to schools of thought. You may be wondering what institutions were (are) not subject to change. This was a contentious question at the Council, and particularly afterwards. The Nicene Creed is an obvious example; the need for a visible Church is another. But within the Council itself, there was considerable debate over the operational function of the office of the papacy. No one at the Council called for discontinuation of the office of Bishop of Rome (the papacy) in favor of governance by a Church council of bishops, but the extent of his power and his relationship with his brother bishops was respectfully but intensely debated. The paragraph continues to exhort promotion of unity between the Catholic Church and other Christian communions to the degree possible. This is one of the significant paradigm shifts to come out of the Council. Again, the extent of strategies to achieve Christian unity extends to the present day. This call for unity is extended to all people of good will. Pope John XXIII had realized that the problems facing the world were impacting peoples and regions across denominational and philosophical lines, and he addressed his encyclicals on peace and justice prior to Vatican II to the citizens of the world, not merely to members of the Catholic Communion. Finally, the Council fathers state their intention to bring these considerations into the Church’s official worship. This is a matter that will come up again and again in this document. One very good example is ecumenism: Catholic thinking was clearly influenced by Protestant theology on the importance and the preaching of the Word of God, an example that the Church embraced in the reform of the liturgy, if not spectacularly successful. The freedom to celebrate interfaith services, such as Thanksgiving prayer services, with Protestant neighborhood churches became common after the Council, as did relaxed laws on interdenominational marriages. Theologically the Council would come to recognize that ministers of other Christian churches were conducting valid ministries and celebrating the presence of Christ in their churches. Paragraph 1 sets the table; the next post on Saturday will look at Paragraph 2, which enumerates specifically the Council’s hope for the sacred liturgy. It is good to be back after a two-day hiatus, and I appreciate your patience. I will be honest and tell you that the three days of entries this week on Respect Life (Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday) wore me out in many ways. It does happen that there are some days when the blog deadline overruns my reading, and I am too embarrassed to post “pious drivel,” as one of my old classmates would put it, instead of information and observations worthy of your time and interests as you continue forward in your “baptismal curiosity.”
Yesterday, though, I was struck with a possible inspiration for the Saturday Sacrament site. This weekend marks a major bend in the road, so to speak, as for the past several months I have discussed the history of sacramental understanding and practice, on down to Pope Pius XII (d. 1958). Now it is time to look at “the changes” themselves, as people refer to the reforms of Catholic worship, i.e. the sacraments. It is interesting that the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, which provided the rationale and principles of Catholic worship reform, was one of the first decrees approved by the fathers, December 4, 1963, at the conclusion of the Second Session. I decided that for the next several weeks (months?) it may be worth our while to look at the text itself and draw our own conclusions about how faithfully the Church in general and local churches in particular have adhered to the precise intentions of the world’s bishops in communion with Popes John XXIII and Paul VI. Regrettably, this kind of thoughtful reading and education did not occur immediately during and after the Council, certainly not in parishes, and to be honest, not so much in seminaries, either. There was a burst of energy—much for the good, to be sure, but sometimes without understanding and human sensitivities—that exploded after the Council. This is the tale of my youth—I was about 18 when the Council was completed in 1965 and lived from 1969-1974 at Ground Zero of the immediate American Post-Council flurry, Washington, D.C. I found them exciting times, but I was too young to fully understand the impact of “the changes” on many older Catholics in particular. Documents, particularly of an ecclesiastical nature, can appear remarkably tame until one reflects upon the forces that shaped them and the concrete realities implied in the texts. A few quick examples will suffice. In the Constitution the fathers state that Latin enjoys a place of preeminence in the worship of the Church. However, conferences of bishops may approve the celebration of Mass in the language(s) of the place, using translations approved by the Vatican from the official Latin rites. All of this means that Church law does not require Mass in English, for example. If, in the judgment of the USCCB, Mass in the vernacular (or prominent language) improves the celebration and participation of the faithful, the freedom to do so should take precedence. But nowhere in Vatican II documents is Mass in Latin prohibited, as a number of people think. With the United States a polyglot nation, it may be that a return to a common language—in our case, the Church’s mother tongue—would enable us to celebrate sacraments in unity. Obviously I am getting into hypotheticals, but my point is that with many matters of worship, assumptions are made without reading the official blueprints first. I read just a few of the introductory paragraphs today, and I was amazed at the breadth of wisdom and vision exercised by the Vatican II fathers, riches we have never truly explored or even discussed. The very first paragraph of the Constitution explores the document’s purpose, including “to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ.” Put another way, a guiding principle of sacramental worship is the ecumenical impact upon our separated brethren. This gives us pause, as we have been very protective of our rites, and of course our Church discipline forbids interfaith communion except in particular cases. Just this one phrase requires unpacking. So, with your blessing, I propose we advance into the uncharted waters of The Constitution of the Sacred Liturgy. I would recommend that you have access to a copy; the best text and layout comes from the Vatican’s own website here. You can print copies or select pages for your own reflections. There is a paperback translation you can purchase, but I cannot find out anything about the publisher. I myself am using Vatican Council II, the 1996 revised edition. This volume contains all of the Vatican II documents and the Vatican follow-up through the 1990’s. The editor is Austin Flannery, O.P., and this text is a standard reference for anyone doing Church work. Now that my work is done for today, I am taking my wife to Mass and then to dinner to celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary. It would be wrong to say that the official teaching office of the Church was indifferent to many of the liturgical reforms discussed and attempted in the twentieth century prior to Vatican II’s convocation and overview of the Church’s worship and Sacramental life. In fact, several popes distinguished themselves by their major interventions into the format of Catholic worship. The reform-minded liturgical popes were, in some respect, held captive by their own office. Ever since the Council of Trent (1545-1563) the official teaching regarding sacraments adhered to the ex opere operato rule: “by the work of the work” or the proper execution of the rite. A sacrament was considered “valid” if unleavened bread and wine were used, if the priest was validly ordained, if the correct prayers from the Missal were used, etc. In the jargon of my youth, a priest “said” Mass or “offered” Mass. German priests “read” Mass. We faithful “attended” Mass, though our role in the Mass, aside from being there, was never adequately explained or articulated in my memory, at any rate. I became an altar boy as early as possible—fourth grade—so I would have something to do.
As noted, this passivity of the faithful did not go unnoticed by a number of popes. One of the true innovators of the last century was St. Pius X (r. 1903-1914) He was an immensely popular saint in the 1950’s, noted for his encouragement of frequent reception of Holy Communion, and particularly for his setting the first communion age back to seven or the age of reason, from the teen years where it had been long observed. He is, in a way, the father of the First Holy Communion child’s event. In the 1960’s and beyond, he fell out of favor for several reasons, among which was his stern opposition to modern ideas, unlike his predecessor Leo XIII. [I do not have a precise source, but I have heard or read in various places that Pius favored early first communion to protect children from modern ideas.] That said, Pius X was a strong advocate of Church reform with a particular devotion to Mary. He was a strong believer in the proper use of music in liturgy, particularly with the celebration of Mass. He believed strongly in Gregorian Chant, the rich treasury of arrangements dating back to the mid first millennium, and encouraged its use for the various prayers of the Mass we know today as the “peoples’ responses.” [It is still common to see St. Pius X daily missals and hymnals on Amazon and Catholic bookstores.] Pius emphasized the idea of active participation in the Mass by the laity, and it is unfortunate that his best contributions were not fully implemented for much of the twentieth century. It seems that his body of work is becoming better appreciated today, and I have attached a link to a liturgical blog at Notre Dame which provides a much better summary of Pius X’s personal devotion and commitment to the sacramental liturgy of his day and beyond. Pius XII (r. 1939-1958) can be excused if he did not turn his attention to the liturgy immediately upon his election. He served as pontiff during World War II and did not devote himself to a major liturgical document until his Mediator Dei in 1947. Wikipedia’s summary of the encyclical is rather good, and it is curious to see where Pius XII directs his attentions. One factor that becomes immediately obvious is the reality that a fair amount of liturgical scholarship and experimentation was already taking place, and Pius XII was setting some boundaries for discussion. Thus, his encyclical warns against too much dependence upon raw history. He notes, for example, that some scholars were making arguments for the reconfiguration of altars to resemble (dining) tables in view of the Eucharist’s identity as Christ’s banquet to his people. Pius, a rather profound thinker, makes the point that just because something is ancient does not make it superior. With regard to sacraments, he explains that the Church’s liturgy has a long development, and that under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, she has grown in both understanding and celebration. Although he is expressing concern about one aspect of the liturgical movement, he is strengthening the movement by his teaching that development has been a common feature of sacramental ritual from the beginning. In our present day, Pius’s writing actually refutes the argument of those who hold that the Tridentine Mass of Pius V after the Council of Trent is the perfect Mass ritual for all time. He also raised concern about a growing idea that the Mass was a community banquet, and that for its proper celebration the Eucharist must be available to the faithful for reception. The reference here is to the practice of a priest offering a “private Mass,” simply by himself or perhaps with one sole altar boy or attendant. This was very common prior to Vatican II, and even a long time afterward, and in my seminary of the early 1960’s all of the priests celebrated Mass individually at rows of side altars on both sides of the seminary church, and all at the same time, while the seminarians’ Mass was offered concurrently at the high altar. In my fifth year in the seminary, after Vatican II had come to a close, the practice of concelebrating—where all the priests gathered at the high altar to celebrate the one Mass together—was introduced, and I suspect all of you have seen concelebrated Masses with the bishop or your pastor. Pius XII did not believe that the Church was ready for this kind of reform in 1947, but Vatican II invigorated the practice. There is another Wikipedia entry on the specific changes recommended and authorized by Pius XII during his tenure. He was the first to allow for the evening celebration of Mass and reception of communion, and reduced the Eucharistic fast to three hours. Previously fasting was required from midnight for those planning to receive communion at a morning Mass. He allowed for some portions of the Sunday Mass to be prayed in the vernacular with the people, a practice called “a dialogue Mass” in Buffalo and, I assume, elsewhere, as early as 1961 or thereabouts—certainly before Vatican II was convened. Pius XII is much remembered for his reforms of the Holy Week Services, beginning in 1951. Strange as it may seem, the liturgical celebrations of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday/Easter Vigil were celebrated in the mornings! This resulted in the odd arrangement of celebrating the Resurrection of the Lord on Saturday morning, with Lent officially ending at noon on Saturday when we were allowed to attack our Easter baskets. Pius XII restored all the Holy Week observances to their correct times as described in the Gospels. The restored rite of Holy Saturday was moved to Saturday night. I can recall that the ritual started around 10:30 PM so that the Gloria would occur at midnight and the Church bells would ring out the Resurrection…probably causing great confusion to the patrons of the twelve saloons located around my parish on Fillmore Avenue. I have just spent the last hour or two reading obituaries. I am old enough to remember when adult readers of newspapers in every home went first to the obituary pages—also known then as “the Irish sports pages”—to see who had died in Buffalo and to glean from the biographical sketches some clues about the deceased’s family circumstances and fortunes. Nowadays the obits, like just about everything else, repose on-line, no pun intended. In my on-line research for today’s post, I fell into a treasured site of the obituaries of the most outstanding U.S. liturgists and sacramental theologians of the reform era leading up to Vatican II and continuing to this day.
My journey began when I discovered, somewhat to my dismay, that my primary source text on the sacraments, Doors to the Sacred 2014, did not include a treatment of Father Virgil Michel, O.S.B. (1888-1938), widely considered to be the father of American liturgical reform. He was a contemporary of the German Odo Casel, about whom I had posted last week, and I had hoped to write about Michel’s contributions today. In searching for material I came upon an independent blog site operated by Gary Feldhege, a professional in the field of Catholic journalism and worship recently employed by Liturgical Press. Feldhege has compiled a remarkable assemblage of obituaries/biographies beginning with Father Michel and continuing with the liturgical pioneers to the present day. On the personal side, looking over the list, I was somewhat shocked to see that I have had contact with at least fifteen of the individuals listed—in some cases I attended their workshops or lectures, some I knew from Catholic University, one was a friar—Regis Duffy, O.F.M.—with whom I lived and took courses for four years. And one, Christiane Brusselmanns, I escorted for a day through EPCOT after she had given a major presentation in Orlando, just a year or two before her tragic death. Looking at this survey of sacramental giants from the professional side made me realize how hard it will be to explain the “liturgical movement” from the late nineteenth century through to our present time—and indeed, the continuing renewal of the sacraments, particularly the Mass, has much work still to do. Probably the biggest challenge—though also the greatest strength—is the reality that theology is not one discipline but is a network of subsets. Liturgists (i.e., those specializing in worship and sacraments) are profoundly impacted by other aspects of theological studies. The nineteenth and twentieth centuries saw an explosion of interest in Biblical studies in both Hebrew and Christian testaments. The impact of biblical research brought much greater pressure for better presentation of the Bible in all Catholic sacraments. Thus the 1970 Mass of Paul VI would expand the Liturgy of the Word to three readings instead of two, develop the three-year cycle of readings, and recommend the proclamation of the Scriptures to congregations in the local tongue. Similarly, the “systematic” theologians were reexamining the Creed and the writings of the Church fathers, discovering that early forms of the Mass, for example, served as symbols of multiple aspects of the mysteries of salvation, including the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit. [This is actually a theme of Luke’s Gospel—that the saving, sanctifying Spirit is present in the breaking of the bread, as in the case of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.] Other ancient themes included the Eucharist as the new Passover and the Eucharist as the communal gathering of the Body of Christ. Theologians began to look at new rites for the sacraments that would embody these ancient realities. The Catechumenate or RCIA, for example, was returned to its third and fourth century form after Vatican II. But again, I run the risk of making this evolution sound smooth, effortless, and inevitable. In fact, this was not the case. Nor did this evolution take place strictly behind the hallowed ivy-covered walls of academia. In reading obituaries, I came across Sister Louise Walz, O.S.B. (1864-1944). Sister Louise never advanced past the eighth grade, but she served as president of a Midwest Catholic college as well as prioress of her community from 1919 through 1937. During her years as Benedictine prioress she advocated successfully for the sisters in her charge to pray the full divine office (Liturgy of the Hours) as did the Benedictine monks. Prior to this change, the community had been praying a local variant of the hours coupled with popular devotionals. With an eye toward history and unity, this amazing superior struck a blow for all women religious to pray from the same page, in unity with the universal Church. Father Pius Parsch (1884-1954) was a Czechoslovakian parish priest and teacher who volunteered for front line duty as a chaplain during World War I. He left behind his recollections, where he writes this: “I often said Mass for the soldiers, at times for the whole division, as well as for a small group, and for the sick and wounded. I found it distressing that the soldiers understood nothing of the Mass. On the other hand, I had learned about the collaboration of the faithful of the Greek rite in Galicia and Bukovina. Thereupon another idea came to me which, of course, matured only after several years: the active participation of the laity in divine worship.” Father Parsch spent his remaining years organizing like-minded reformers and experimenting with rites and forms till his death in 1954. Archbishop Paul J. Hallinan (1911-1968) was one of my first “liturgical heroes.” Hallinan served as bishop of Charleston, S.C., and then as Archbishop of Atlanta. He was also awarded a purple heart during his war service as a chaplain in New Guinea. The Franciscans served in several locations in both dioceses in my early years and I knew of him, though I never met him. Hallinan brought a social justice influence to Catholic life and worship. He desegregated Catholic schools in both dioceses, a very courageous act in those times in the deep south. Hallinan believed strongly in the use of the vernacular language in the celebration of Mass and served on the liturgical commission at Vatican II. Regrettably, he was stricken with hepatitis at the Council and was hampered in his work till his death in 1968. These are but three of the dozens of reformers. I will continue to draw from their experiences in future Saturday posts. But perhaps a question may be forming in your mind about the sitting popes in this era: were they in favor, or against, or active participants? It can be said for the moment that, in their own ways, Pius X and Pius XII were active participants in liturgical reform prior to John XXIII and Vatican II. We will take a look at their involvement next weekend. |
LITURGY
August 2024
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