You Down With OCP?
Well, you know me.
After all, I heard "Gather Us In" and "Here I Am, Lord" at Mass today. Apparently, ours is a wicked, wicked parish in need of the scourging only horrible liturgical music can offer.
Haugen & Schutte. Kinda like Hall and Oates.
Only somehow worse.
And who foists Marty 'n Dan on Catholic parishes? Why, the folks at OCP: the Oregon Catholic Press. This article offers as good a reason as any why the Diocese of Portland should be forced to sell OCP's physical assets to the Navy for use as a gunnery range. Or sell it to the Southern Baptists, who would actually publish honest-to-God praise music, and not material more suited to failed Peter Paul & Mary cover bands.
Decisions, decisions. I say pick whichever would be less comfortable.
OK, a little harsh. But only until you read the article. Learn why your average Catholic liturgy is far below average. Thanks to the interlocking publications offered by OCP, North American Catholics get a standardized product menu: McMass™. Try a "sacred meal" with Hurd and extra Conry.
Also, the article offers insight into those who are adding sequins and rhinestones to the Mona Lisa that is the Mass. People like OCP's Political Officer/Editor Michael Prendergast, who explains Why The New Order Is For The Betterment Of All And Wreckers Will Be Re-Educated:
What about the other option of splitting up the Masses according to style, so that those who like traditional music can have their own Mass and the people who compose for the OCP can have theirs? Prendergast rejects this. Whether the style is traditional, contemporary, folk, or even "rock," Prendergast says, "everyone in the parish has to be exposed to it." And what if a pastor just doesn't like rock and other contemporary styles? Prendergast says, "I would talk to the [chancery's] Office of Worship about him." I asked whether that means he would turn this poor priest in to the bishop. His response: "I would try to arrange for him to attend a workshop on liturgy."
"Everyone in the parish has to be exposed to it." Rather like your children and chicken pox, isn't it? I have to admit it's worked on me: I'm pretty well immune to its charms. Then there's the matter of turning in the hapless priest to the Liturgy Police. No doubt once Fr. Smith had the rat cage strapped to his face, all sense of taste and reverence would be erased, and he would indeed profess his undying love for Big Brother and the Inner Party's NewLit.
Read it and be enlightened.