Posted on 07/30/2005 9:06:18 AM PDT by littlepaddle
A HARVARD STUDENT SPEAKS OUT Why I Attend the Traditional Latin Mass
June 2003By Francis X. Altiere IV
Introibo ad altare Dei — “I will go unto the altar of God.” So begins the holy sacrifice of the Mass, as it has been celebrated in the Roman rite of the Church for well over a millennium. Contrary to the sincere wishes of the liturgical apparatus that has visited havoc upon orthodox Catholics for the past forty years, the traditional Latin liturgy still survives. Indeed, not only does it survive, but it is attracting new followers and exciting a profound piety in Catholics of all ages — many of whom, like myself, were born over a decade after the imposition of the new liturgy. With the recognition by many concerned Catholics that the lex orandi of the modern liturgy is not an adequate expression of the Church’s lex credendi, there has been concerted effort in recent years to address the poverty of Catholic liturgical life today. (The “reform of the reform” solution proposed by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger and Fr. Joseph Fessio immediately comes to mind.) While many orthodox Catholics are directing their attention to salvaging the Novus Ordo Missae introduced by Pope Paul VI in 1969, many others are directing their energies toward the restoration — or at least the revival — of the traditional Latin Mass.
At the outset, I should entertain one particular question about the old Mass: What’s in a name? The traditional rite of Mass, which prevailed from the very first Christian centuries until right after the Second Vatican Council, is often called the “Latin Mass” or the “Tridentine Mass.” Neither of these two names, strictly speaking, is satisfactory. While it is certainly true that the old Mass is celebrated in Latin, the new Mass is technically also a Latin Mass — it is, after all, a Mass of the Latin rite (as opposed to the Byzantine or Maronite rites, for example) and the Missale Romanum of Paul VI was written in Latin. The Oratorian Fathers, as well as some monasteries, are known to celebrate the new Mass mostly or entirely in Latin. But, in view of the fact that the new liturgy is most often celebrated in the vulgar tongue (and the ICEL translation reminds one what a vulgar tongue it can be!), it is not surprising that no one thinks of the new Mass as the Latin Mass.
To call the old Mass the “Tridentine” Mass is also misleading. Although the Roman Mass did undergo some minor revisions and purifications under Pope St. Pius V after the Council of Trent in the 16th century (“Tridentine” comes from the Latin for Trent), it is not the case that the missal of 1570 was a new or fabricated product. Unlike the new liturgy, which was produced by a committee of liturgical “experts” almost from scratch in 1969, the missal of Pius V merely attended to “the preservation of a pure liturgy” — the same liturgy, in fact, whose core elements had been codified by the reign of Pope St. Gregory the Great in the sixth century. Reliable liturgical scholars, such as Fr. Adrian Fortescue and Msgr. Klaus Gamber, have documented the antiquity of the traditional Roman rite. The most recent edition of the traditional missal was published in 1962. This is the missal used by the priests, such as those of the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter, authorized by the Holy See to preserve the classical liturgy. The changes made in 1962, like those made by Pius V and some of his successors, were minor and organic, leaving the integrity of the rite in place.
Catholics of all ages should be grateful to Pope John Paul II for the understanding he has shown to those Catholics who still desire the old Mass. Even if the Holy Father himself views the modern liturgical experiment as a blessing for the Church, he has nonetheless urged the bishops of the world to respect the desire of many Catholics to worship in the manner of their fathers. In his 1988 motu proprio, Ecclesia Dei, in fact, the Pope asked the bishops to grant “wide and generous” permission for the old liturgy, in order to accommodate “the feelings of all those who are attached to the Latin liturgical tradition.” (The Pope celebrated the classical Mass last summer in his private chapel at Castel Gandolfo.)
When bishops first gave their grudging permission for the retention of the old Latin Mass, most people thought the measure was simply a provisional gesture to placate time-warped priests and laity. That these old-timers will die off, and with them the old Mass, was the prevailing idea. How wrong these people were! I am 20 years old, and have attended the traditional Mass for about three years now. There certainly are elderly people at the church I attend, no doubt still disoriented from the radical changes that tore from them the traditions of their youth, but there are many young people as well. It cannot be mere nostalgia that attracts youngsters — who were born decades after Vatican II — to the old Mass. For that matter, it is not even primarily an aesthetic consideration that leads many Catholics to favor the old Mass. Above all, we prefer the ancient rite because it more accurately reflects the faith of the Church in the Mass as a propitiatory sacrifice than the new liturgy, which instead emphasizes it as a communal banquet.
Although no devotee of the ancient liturgy would — or should — prefer it simply because of its beauty, there is no denying the cultural and aesthetic value of the traditional rite. In fact, in 1971 leading cultural figures (including non-Catholics and even non-Christians) appealed to Pope Paul VI, on cultural grounds, to preserve the ancient rite. In their appeal, published in The Times of London (July 6, 1971), they wrote, “The rite in question, in its magnificent Latin text, has also inspired a host of priceless achievements in the arts — not only mystical works, but works by poets, philosophers, musicians, architects, painters and sculptors in all countries and epochs.” Being present at a traditional high Mass, replete with well-crafted vestments and Gregorian plainchant, is a moving experience indeed. If perchance a Gather hymnal were to turn up at a Latin Mass, someone would surely have the sense to burn it.
But, as I said, it is not the artistic merit of the old Mass — nurtured in the womb of Mother Church for 1500 years — that is the most compelling argument in its favor; rather, it is doctrinal precision. One does not wish to call into question the doctrinal sufficiency of the new Mass, which, being promulgated by a reigning pope, is obviously a valid rite of Mass. But the fact that the new Mass is orthodox and validly confects the sacrament does not imply that it is as perfect an expression of the Catholic faith as the old Mass. The use of a “dead” language such as Latin plays a valuable role in preserving orthodoxy, as the text of the liturgy is fixed, and the words used to express Catholic eucharistic theology are not subject to any vicissitudes in their meaning. In his monumental encyclical Mediator Dei, Pope Pius XII reminded Catholics, “The use of the Latin language…is a manifest and beautiful sign of unity, as well as an effective antidote for any corruption of doctrinal truth.”
What is it that recommends Latin, and not a vernacular tongue, as an ideal liturgical language? We should note that almost all major religions have set aside some particular language, which, through its intimate connection with the religious cultus, has become sacred, even long after passing out of quotidian usage. We should not forget that our Lord Himself worshiped in a non-vernacular tongue — Hebrew. Even though the Jews of Palestine 2,000 years ago used Aramaic in their daily discourse, they retained this sacred tongue in their worship. And as Providence led the Prince of the Apostles, St. Peter, to erect the mother diocese of all Christendom in Rome, it is only fitting that the language of ancient Rome should, in time, have become the language of the Church. Whenever a Catholic hears Mass in Latin, he is reminded that he belongs to a worldwide communion and, moreover, he is reminded of the special primacy of the Roman pontiff. As Pope Pius XI explained in his letter Officiorum Omnium, “the Church — precisely because it embraces all nations and is destined to endure until the end of time — of its very nature requires a language which is universal, immutable, and non-vernacular.” It is significant that Vatican II, which opened the door to liturgical renovation, reaffirmed that “the use of the Latin language is to be preserved in the Latin rites” (Sacrosanctum Concilium). Pope John XXIII himself, the father of Vatican II, had issued an encyclical on the eve of the council to protest the desire of some Catholic innovators to move away from Latin.
The current Holy Father wrote in his 1980 Holy Thursday letter, Dominicae Cenae, “The Roman Church has special obligations towards Latin, the splendid language of ancient Rome, and she must manifest them whenever the occasion presents itself.” It would be tempting to make this line the basis for a syllogism:
(1) Major premise: The Catholic Church must manifest her obligations to Latin whenever the occasion presents itself.
(2) Minor premise: The occasion always presents itself. (The missal of St. Pius V, of course, presupposes celebration in Latin; and, the normative edition of the missal of Paul VI is also in Latin.)
(3) Conclusion: Mass should always be celebrated in Latin in the Roman rite of the Catholic Church.
Catholics today, perhaps, may disagree as to how much of the vernacular is desirable in the celebration of holy Mass, but it would be wholly contrary to the mind of the Church to assert that the Mass ought to be celebrated entirely in the vernacular. The Council of Trent, indeed, declared on this point, “If any one saith…that the Mass ought to be celebrated in the vulgar tongue only…let him be anathema” (Session XXII, canon 9). It is significant that the council makes this point in a dogmatic canon, with an anathema attached, rather than in a decree on discipline.
In his phenomenal and prescient 1966 essay “The Case for the Latin Mass,” the celebrated Catholic philosopher Dietrich von Hildebrand asks rhetorically “whether we better meet Christ in the Mass by soaring up to Him, or by dragging Him down into our own pedestrian, workaday world?” It is a good question, and it is a question that indicates a basic problem about modern man: anthropocentrism. Unfortunately, the modern liturgy reinforces this basic failure to understand the fundamentally unequal relationship between God and man. The problem with “creative liturgies” is that they miss the very point of liturgical prayer: The faithful must encounter Christ in the Mass by conforming themselves to the liturgy. It has been well said that in the traditional Mass, the priest leaves his own personality in the sacristy so that he becomes a true alter Christus. Following exactly the words and rubrics of the missal, he makes an oblation of his own will. Although a closer adherence to the text of the new missal would eliminate some difficulty, even so the tendency of individual celebrants to leave their own mark on Christ’s Mass is still pronounced. After all, the new Mass allows celebrants to choose from four different “Eucharistic Prayers” instead of the formerly obligatory Roman Canon. This is not to mention the slew of other approved ad libitum options that typify the Novus Ordo.
The faithful too are less inclined toward anthropocentrism at the traditional Mass. The priest faces the altar, rather than the people — the Mass after all is the greatest prayer the Church can offer to God. Why orient the priest toward the congregation, when the entire assembly should have its attention on the sacred Host — the “pure, holy, and spotless Victim,” in the words of the traditional missal. Moreover, the traditional liturgy also guards against the blurring of the distinction between clergy and laity, which is all too common today. All of the readings of the Mass are read by clergy — sub-deacon, deacon, and priest; the official representatives of the Church carry out all the prayers and readings of the ancient liturgy. What a valuable reminder for us all that God has charged the Church with the correct interpretation of Scripture. If Mrs. Smith can read the epistle to the congregation at Mass, why can she not decide what it means for her? Although the scandalous practice of lay preaching is supposedly banned in the new Mass, it is not surprising that it has become rather widespread. Reverence for the Blessed Sacrament also dictates that only the priest — whose hands were consecrated for this purpose in the rite of ordination — should touch the sacred Host, and that the faithful should kneel to receive our Lord in Communion. The hierarchical arrangement of the old Mass, with all attention directed at the altar, is an apt expression of our interior faith.
The “silence” of the Roman Canon, the central prayer of the Mass, containing the consecration of the bread and wine (which the priest always reads sotto voce, in a low voice) in the traditional rite reminds us that the world was silent at the crucifixion. And of course it is precisely the sacrifice of Calvary that is re-presented in every Mass. The crisp ringing of the bell pierces the silence, alerting the faithful of the elevation of the Host and Chalice.
What of the claim that people cannot understand what is happening at the traditional Latin Mass? Well, do people really understand what is happening at the Novus Ordo Mass? Of course they can hear the Mass in their own language, but do they understand what actually happens at holy Mass? It is a well-documented fact that only a minority of today’s Catholics actually believe in Transubstantiation — that the bread and wine consecrated at Mass become the body and blood, soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ. So we must assume that most Catholics, even though they understand the words of the vernacular Mass, do not actually understand what is happening at Mass. In view of this fact, the criticism that people do not understand the Latin Mass falls flat. The “understanding” that the majority of modern Catholics have of the new Mass is subjective and superficial — which does not prove that the new liturgy is bad, per se, but it does prove that there is more to “understanding” than the mere recognition of vernacular words. (Of course, orthodox catechesis and solid preaching — whether at a Latin Mass or at a Novus Ordo parish — go a long way. There are obviously Catholics who attend the new Mass who believe in Transubstantiation and who have a profound reverence for the Blessed Sacrament, but the vernacular liturgy as such does nothing to create a deeper awareness of this reality.)
I submit that Catholics, especially those who have attended the old liturgy consistently, do in fact understand the Latin Mass. First of all, there are Latin-English handmissals which enable the lay faithful to follow the prayers of the Mass if they find it helpful to do so. Others of us, however, are edified by simply following the actions of the priest at the altar. Either way is a fruitful means of participation. Secondly, the scriptural readings of the Mass, after having been read or chanted in Latin, are read again in the vernacular. The sermon, of course, is always preached in the language of the people. We have already mentioned that the hierarchical nature of the traditional Mass ritual is opposed to the anthropocentrism of the modern world. An overemphasis on the ability of the laity to participate actively in the liturgy is a reflection of this anthropocentrism. It does not matter that the prayers of the old Mass are recited in Latin and sometimes in silence — these prayers are directed at God, not at a deified mankind. The fact that I do not understand every word of Latin at the Mass does not bother me: The Mass is offered to thank God, to adore Him, to beg His forgiveness, and to implore His blessing. It is not offered to appeal to my ego or to entertain me.
Even if the old Mass, so clearly oriented to the divine, does not pander to the subjective sensibilities of the congregation, one should not imagine that it is therefore uninstructive or unedifying. A person unacquainted with Catholic theology who walked into a traditional Latin Mass would perceive that something was happening — he might not know what, but he would be enchanted by it. A Catholic woman once justified to me her decision to attend a Protestant church because, she said, Catholics and Protestants sing all the same songs at their services now, so what’s the difference? Maybe it is not her fault. The Catholic liturgy has become so denatured that it seems to many Catholics to be nothing more than a sing-a-long. There was a news report last summer about a California woman who was disturbed to learn that she had been attending a Lutheran church for years when she had thought it was a Catholic one. What a sad day when the sacrifice of the Mass bears no outward difference from a Protestant service! The traditional liturgy certainly is instructive, and no one would ever confuse it for a Lutheran service.
The sheer antiquity of the traditional Roman rite of Mass is a very compelling argument for any Catholic, who, as a matter of fact and not simply of temperament, must be tradition-minded. Novelty, even in secondary matters of ecclesiastical and liturgical discipline, can undermine the stability of the faith. How often do we hear dissenting Catholics claiming that the Church’s position on contraception and the ordination of women is prone to change because the Church has experienced so many other dramatic changes in the past thirty-five years? It is not disloyal to suggest that the decision of the hierarchy to cave in to demands for such liturgical innovations as Communion in the hand and altar girls — which Paul VI and John Paul II, respectively, opposed before reluctantly authorizing them — actually undermines the authority of the Church in other matters. St. Thomas Aquinas notes the deleterious effect that innovation can have: “to a certain extent, the mere change of law is of itself prejudicial to the common good: because custom avails much for the observance of laws, seeing that what is done contrary to general custom, even in slight matters, is looked upon as grave” (Summa theologiae I-II. 97. 2). And so, aside from the doctrinal merits of the Latin liturgy that have been considered above, the very antiquity of the traditional rite speaks strongly in its favor. To fabricate a whole sacramental rite ex novo is completely alien to Catholic liturgical common sense. Cardinal Ratzinger, even if he does not view the eventual restoration of the 1962 missal as a goal, is acutely aware of the rupture presented by the liturgical reform. In his preface to Msgr. Gamber’s Reform of the Roman Liturgy, the Cardinal described the Novus Ordo as “a banal on-the-spot product.”
The Mass is the summit of all Christian life, and in the light of the glories of the traditional Mass, we should not wonder that it is enjoying such a revival today — not of course that it has ever died. The “vocations crisis” afflicting dioceses in which the faith has been watered down for decades does not apply to those priestly societies such as the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter and the Institute of Christ the King that were founded (in 1988 and 1990, respectively) to bring new life to our Latin liturgical heritage. Traditional Benedictine monasteries like Le Barroux in France and the more recent Clear Creek in the U.S. are important centers of the Latin liturgical resurgence. Well over 150,000 American Catholics attend the Latin Masses offered in their dioceses every week, not to mention the many more who are waiting for their bishop to make one available. (A complete listing of the locations of all the traditional Latin Masses offered under the jurisdiction of the bishops of the United States is available at: latinmass.org/directory.html) Let us end with another quotation from that most reliable of all theologians, St. Thomas: “It is absurd, and a detestable shame, that we should suffer those traditions to be changed which we have received from the fathers of old.”
Francis X. Altiere IV is an undergraduate at Harvard.
The Hail Mary is not liturgical. It only occurs in the Liturgical Books as a private devotion prior to public recitation of the Divine Office. "Sancta Dei Genetrix" is the liturgical phrase.
"the only significant place where the phrase "Mater Dei" appears is in the "Hail Mary." In the Marian antiphons, "Sancta Dei Genetrix" is used."
Why the need to use two expressions instead of one? I'm not trying to be arguementative here because I think that the superiority of Greek in theology was established in a previous discussion to which I was not even a part. I feel as if I am going over ground, as an amateur who does not even speak Greek, that is pretty generally accepted among theologians and patrilogists. I'm just interested. Why two expressions and not one? In the original "Hail Mary" (in Orthodox parlance the "Theotokos and Virgin Rejoice"), by Pope St. Cyril of Alexandria, Theotokos was the term used, but our discussion suggests that Dei Genetrix would have been a better translation than Mater Dei.
As Hermann mentioned above, "Mater Dei" is in a non-liturgical prayer. The part of the "Ave Maria" after the Holy Name of Jesus was added by the Catholic Church sometime in the 2nd millenium.
"As Hermann mentioned above, "Mater Dei" is in a non-liturgical prayer. The part of the "Ave Maria" after the Holy Name of Jesus was added by the Catholic Church sometime in the 2nd millenium"
I admit it. I'm confused.
Here's the prayer from the Divine Liturgy in English:
"O Theotokos and Virgin, rejoice, O Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the Fruit of thy womb, for thou hast borne the Savior of our souls." And that's the prayer by St. Cyril that caused offense to Nestorius.
Note how similar it is to the "Ave Maria" in English:
"Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death."
The only differences are: 1) the first one is liturgical and not non-liturgical but the second one is non-liturgical, 2) there is some slight difference in the wording.
So if I get you correctly, the Orthodox liturgical prayer went through a transmutation of sorts sometime after A.D. 1054 and became the prayer now more familiar to Westerners as the "Hail Mary". Is that right? Might this have had something to do with the development of the Rosary maybe?
Well, since both prayers are based on verses from Luke's Gospel, it is quite possible that the prayers developed independently of each other.
* Again, you sin by thinking you can judge the interior intention of another. That is a sin you frequently committ.
However, since you seem to object to the point of this article (that the TLM more accurately reflects and expresses the Catholic faith than the NO) which by the way none of your posts address
* Again with the attempt to judge intention. Review what it is I responded to.
You are so ensnared in your judgementalism you can't see the simple facts before you. You ignore what it is I am responding to and you engage in igniting your phantom straw men.
"Well, since both prayers are based on verses from Luke's Gospel, it is quite possible that the prayers developed independently of each other."
Possibly, but I read in a Roman Catholic source, Catholic Encyclopedia maybe, that Pope St. Cyril of Alexandria is considered the author of the "Hail Mary". That to me suggests the prayer came from the East.
So my theory, but I may be wrong, is that the founding friar Dominic of the Order of Preachers took this prayer and used it when putting together his series of meditations we call the Rosary. No doubt there must be more on all of this by Thurston and other scholars who have studied the development of the Rosary.
The association of St. Dominic with the institution of the Rosary is a legend. The meditations on the mysteries were not added to the Rosary for 200 years after his death, while the recitation of the Rosary itself pre-dated his birth. On the 'Hail Mary':
http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/07110b.htm
In point of fact there is little or no trace of the Hail Mary as an accepted devotional formula before about from certain versicles and responsories occurring in the Little Office or Cursus of the Blessed Virgin which just at that time was coming into favour among the monastic orders. Two Anglo-Saxon manuscripts at the British Museum, one of which may be as old as the year 1030, show that the words "Ave Maria" etc. and "benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris tui" occurred in almost every part of the Cursus, and though we cannot be sure that these clauses were at first joined together so as to make one prayer, there is conclusive evidence that this had come to pass only a very little later. (See "The Month", Nov., 1901, pp. 486-8.) The great collections of Mary-legends which began to be formed in the early years of the twelfth century (see Mussafia, "Marien-legenden") show us that this salutation of our Lady was fast becoming widely prevalent as a form of private devotion, though it is not quite certain how far it was customary to include the clause "and blessed is the fruit of thy womb".
"The association of St. Dominic with the institution of the Rosary is a legend. The meditations on the mysteries were not added to the Rosary for 200 years after his death, while the recitation of the Rosary itself pre-dated his birth. On the 'Hail Mary'..."
Very interesting.
Based on what you have just said, I am more inclined than ever towards describing the "Hail Mary" as probably being a Western corruption of the Orthodox prayer in the Divine Liturgy, "O Theotokos and Virgin rejoice".
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