The Latin Mass and Me: Two Years Later

This month marks an anniversary of sorts for me. Approximately two years ago this month, I attended my first Mass in the Extraordinary Form (a.k.a. the Latin Mass, The Traditional Latin Mass). You can find my first reactions to that event in this blog post. As you can probably tell from that post, I was curious and a bit skeptical about whether or not the Traditional Latin Mass was all that much better than the Mass in English (the Ordinary Form) that I had been attending. My, how times and attitudes have changed! I would say that I have gone from being something of a skeptic about the Latin Mass to a wholehearted supporter of it.

What brought about this transformation? Above all, I would say it was an openness to it. Yes, I was somewhat skeptical of the Traditionalist movement, but as I've said before, I loved the sound of Latin, Gregorian chant, and sacred polyphony. The music of the Traditional Mass keeps drawing me back to it, and when I hear Gregorian chant and polyphony sung live, at their most beautiful, and for the glory of God, I cannot imagine why so many in the Church decided to abandon this beautiful music for cheesy and superficial "folk hymns" in the name of "relevance" or "the spirit of Vatican II"--a decision the Vatican II Council Fathers explicitly rejected. The Vatican II documents on the sacred liturgy expressly state that the use of Latin and Gregorian chant should be maintained (Sacrosanctum Concilium 36.1) and that Gregorian chant should have "pride of place" when choosing liturgical music (SC, 116). The idea of reconnecting with an ancient form of worship that Catholics had used for centuries and even millennia before me appeals to me deeply. In attending this Mass, I am recovering my heritage as a Catholic.

Unlike some Catholics who say they were attracted to the Traditional Mass from the very first time they attended, it took me quite a while to become familiar with the parts of the Mass and its structures and rhythms. At first I found it baffling, quite frankly. However, something about this Mass kept drawing me back to it. Like Rubik's Cube, it was a puzzle that needed to be solved, at once frustrating yet intriguing. I kept attending. I talked to people. I read things, both online and in print, that helped me understand the Traditional Mass. Among the most helpful of these resources was Msgr. George Moorman's book The Latin Mass Explained, a concise yet thorough explanation of the actions and prayers of the Mass and their significance.

Another helpful resource was my own missal. After some deliberation I chose the Roman Catholic Daily Missal, published by Angelus Press and available from the Canons Regular of St. John Cantius in Chicago. Although I still consider the St. Edmund Campion Missal and Hymnal from Corpus Christi Watershed to be an excellent resource, after using it for only a few Sundays I found it too big and too heavy to use conveniently as a hand missal. The Roman Catholic Daily Missal is much more portable and compact. Someday, if my funds permit, I'd like to purchase a copy of the 1962 Daily Missal published by Baronius Press for comparison.

After using all of these resources and regularly attending the Mass for a while I became familiar enough with its actions and prayers and structures and rhythms that I could relax a bit, stop worrying about trying to follow every single word in the missal, and simply prayerfully watch the actions on the altar. I began to recognize the similarities and the differences between the Extraordinary Form and the Ordinary Form, and eventually the Extraordinary Form didn't seem as alien and bizarre as it first appeared. I would like to continue attending this form of the Mass as long as it is available in my parish, and I would like to see it made more widely available throughout the Catholic Church as a whole. Indeed, I've actually come to prefer it to the Ordinary Form of the Mass in English.

I've come to believe that if more Catholics were regularly exposed to this form of the Mass, they would ask for it from their priests and bishops. However, sadly and somewhat inexplicably to me, there seems to be a great resistance to this form of the Mass among many priests, bishops, and laypeople. I think in some cases it stems from ignorance or from outright hostility to the older traditions of the Church out of the same misguided sense of "relevance"that I mentioned earlier. The Ordinary Form is somehow seen as more "contemporary" while the Extraordinary Form is somehow seen as antiquated or old-fashioned. Truth is not and can never be old-fashioned. The beautiful and more elaborate ceremonies of the Extraordinary Form are often dismissed as ostentatious displays; the simpler, more stripped-down ceremonies of the Ordinary Form are said to be preferable. However, what exactly is wrong with as much beauty, dignity, and reverence as possible in the worship of Almighty God?

On a few occasions I've gone to the Ordinary Form Masses in my parish, and even though they are celebrated by the same priest who celebrates our Masses in the Extraordinary Form, and even though they are celebrated correctly according to the rubrics with as much dignity and reverence as possible, the Masses themselves just don't seem the same. Somehow they are oddly flat and truncated, as if some important parts are missing, and the parts that remain don't fit together very well. I would like to see the traditional Latin form of the Mass preserved, perpetuated, and made available for future generations. Please God, may it be so!

Ash Wednesday

Now therefore saith the Lord: Be converted to me with all your heart, in fasting, and in weeping, and in mourning. And rend your hearts, and not your garments, and turn to the Lord your God: for he is gracious and merciful, patient and rich in mercy, and ready to repent of the evil. Who knoweth but he will return, and forgive, and leave a blessing behind him, sacrifice and libation to the Lord your God? Blow the trumpet in Sion, sanctify a fast, call a solemn assembly, Gather together the people, sanctify the church, assemble the ancients, gather together the little ones, and them that suck at the breasts: let the bridegroom go forth from his bed, and the bride out of her bride chamber. Between the porch and the altar the priests the Lord' s ministers shall weep, and shall say: Spare, O Lord, spare thy people: and give not thy inheritance to reproach, that the heathen should rule over them. Why should they say among the nations: Where is their God? The Lord hath been zealous for his land, and hath spared his people. And the Lord answered and said to his people: Behold I will send you corn, and wine, and oil, and you shall be filled with them: and I will no more make you a reproach among the nations.

(Joel 2: 12-19, Douay-Rheims Version, Epistle for Ash Wednesday Mass in the Extraordinary Form)

2013 In Review

Happy New Year!

It's high time to bring this blog up to date, and I thought one way to do that might be to take a brief look back at the year just past and speculate a bit about the year to come. For me personally, 2013 was a year of invasions, abdications, relocations, infections, and explorations.

The year got off to a rough start with a home invasion in mid-January that turned my life upside down for quite a while. Until that time, my principal occupation had been researching my genealogy and family history, but dealing with the invasion and its aftermath largely brought that to a halt. After my family and I got over the initial shock of the event, we decided it was time for me to move to a safer location, and my brother and sister in the Charlotte area quickly set to work finding a new place for me to live. They found the condominium where I now live remarkably quickly, and February and the early part of March were largely devoted to my packing up and preparing to move. During that preparation phase, the world received the stunning news that Pope Benedict XVI had decided to abdicate and step down from the Chair of Peter, a thing not seen in several hundred years. It seemed change was in the air for the whole Catholic Church, not just for me.

I arrived in Charlotte in early March and immediately got to work lining up the medical and social support services I knew I would need: doctors, home nursing care, medical supplies, attendant services, Medicare and Medicaid, Social Security disability benefits, and transportation services. There were, of course, some bureaucratic tangles, but on the whole, the process went remarkably well. One afternoon in March, as I was in the bathroom taking a break from filling out forms and making phone calls, my brother called to tell me that Pope Francis had just been elected.  It seems the whole world, Catholic and non-Catholic alike, is still trying to figure out what to make of this unconventional Pope, the first from the Americas, who seems to be a reformist and a man with a gift for saying and doing the unexpected and surprising thing.

Ironically, just as the Catholic Church and the world at large seemed to embrace this pope who is developing a reputation as a progressive and a reformer, it seemed my own personal practice of the Catholic faith moved in a more conservative and traditional direction. Ever since I had arrived in Charlotte, I'd been seeking a church home; I had visited a couple of parishes in the Charlotte area, but neither of them felt quite right. One of my Facebook friends in Charlotte recommended her parish, which is very tradition-friendly. I've blogged before about how much I've come to love sacred polyphonic music, and when I saw that my friend's parish regularly celebrated the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite (aka the Tridentine Mass or the Traditional Latin Mass), I thought this might be an excellent opportunity to hear some of the music I had come to love in its proper context, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. I started attending the Extraordinary Form masses in June, and to be perfectly honest, found them baffling at first. My fellow Mass-goers, however, explained that the Extraordinary Form does take a bit of getting used to and urged me to keep coming. I have kept coming to the EF Mass, and with each liturgy I attend, the rite becomes a little more familiar and a little more comfortable. I consider it part of my continuing education as a Catholic.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to go to Mass or anywhere else for much of the month of July, as I came down with a nasty infection that kept me sidelined for over a month. Eventually, however, I did get well, and aside from some occasional trouble with sciatica or a pinched nerve, I've been able to avoid any major medical catastrophes since then. May it remain so, at least for a while, for awhile, please God!

In mid-November, I received a letter from the solicitor's (prosecutor's) office back in South Carolina that the police had made an arrest in my home invasion case, and the solicitor was preparing to bring the case to trial. I wrote a detailed letter back describing my recollections of the crime and its effect on me. I also spoke by phone with someone in the solicitor's office who told me that the defendant in this case is facing other outstanding charges, and in all likelihood will "plead out" or plead guilty to a lesser charge in order to avoid doing time for a greater one. The defendant in my case is being charged with armed robbery, and the case is likely to come before a judge sometime in February. I'll post more information as it becomes available. I've heard crime victims on TV news shows talk about the need for "closure," and for the first time in my life I understand what they mean. With the perpetrator of my crime behind bars and preparing to face the justice he deserves, I feel as if I can truly begin to close this chapter in my life and move on to whatever comes next.

December and my first Christmas in Charlotte were quiet and low-key but peaceful and happier than my Christmas celebrations have been for some years now. Like many adults who are getting older, I feel a twinge of nostalgia and melancholy as I recall all those long-ago childhood Christmases with their mix of feverish anticipation, excitement, and delight. I miss my parents, who worked so hard to make Christmas special for my brothers, sisters, and me. As my sister observed, Christmas just doesn't seem quite as much fun without them around. Yet this year, we were able to get almost everyone together (on New Year's Eve, if not Christmas Day) and we were truly happy to be together. For that moment we were all content with the present and unafraid of the future. Whatever hardships may come, I pray we will face them together because we are a family and we love each other. I feel extraordinarily blessed to be here at this time in this place. Deo gratias! Thanks Be to God!

Guided Missals

As part of my ongoing exploration of the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite (aka Traditional Latin Mass, Tridentine Mass), last week I took the plunge and ordered the second edition of the St. Edmund Campion Missal and Hymnal for the Traditional Latin Mass, published by Corpus Christi Watershed. My parish uses the Vatican II Hymnal, also published by Corpus Christi Watershed, as the missal and hymnal for its Ordinary Form Masses, and I am impressed by the attractiveness of its presentation and the selection of hymns. I've also been impressed by some of the recent liturgical musical compositions published and released by CC Watershed which are truly beautiful, reverent, and clearly inspired by and modeled after chant and polyphony, which I love.

The Campion Missal was very favorably reviewed by Father John Zuhlsdorf (Father Z.) and mentioned on Facebook by another priest friend of mine, Father Gaurav Shroff. Because the publishers just released the second edition, they are trying to promote it by offering individual and bulk copies at a considerable discount, and the net price is better than that for many comparable hand missals out there. On Monday of last week, I called the fulfillment house that's shipping the new missals, placed a phone order, and received my copy on Saturday, just in time for a "road test" at this Sunday's Mass. Overall, I was very pleased with the new missal. The Mass Propers are at the front of the book, with the Ordinaries for both High and Low Masses towards the middle. Prefaces for Feast Days are further toward the back, with a Kyriale, or collection of Gregorian Chant settings, and a generous selection of traditional hymns at the very back. As bonuses, the book also includes interior line art, color photos of the EF Mass being celebrated, and photos of pages from ancient and medieval manuscript missals.

Some users of the first edition complained that the cover and interior artwork of the first edition were excessively colorful, elaborate, and distracting, so the publishers have toned down these features just a bit for the second edition. The second edition now features a more sedate plain gray cover, and the ornamental capital letters for some of the interior text in the first edition, that were designed to be reminiscent of those in medieval illuminated manuscripts, have largely been simplified or eliminated. While the first edition had no bookmarks whatsoever, the second edition includes a single gray ribbon bookmark. Some users on Father Z's site complained that more ribbons would have been useful, but others pointed out that the bookmark problem can easily be corrected with holy cards or a multiple-ribbon bookmark available from any Catholic bookstore or seller  of religious goods.

The book is considerably larger than many hand missals, and this may be an advantage or a disadvantage, depending on one's point of view. It's an advantage insofar as the larger page size allows for a larger, easier to read typeface and less flipping back and forth between the various parts of the missal. The Ordinaries for High and Low Masses are printed in special color-coded sections on heavier quality stock than the rest of the book, making them easy to find and flip back to during the Mass.

The book's large size may be a disadvantage, however, if users find it heavier, bulkier, and less portable than other missals. It's really meant to be  a church book, purchased by the parish, used, and left in the pews rather than a hand missal purchased and used by individual parishioners. Nevertheless, for someone like me, who is still trying to become familiar with the Extraordinary Form, this is a very attractive and useful resource. It's a high quality book at a very reasonable price.

If purchasing a hardcover missal is a bigger investment than many individuals or parishes are willing to make, there are lower cost alternatives. My parish uses the Latin-English Booklet Missal for Praying the Traditional Mass (also known as Pray the Holy Mass) published by Coalition Ecclesia Dei and available from many Catholic booksellers. A Latin-Spanish version is also available. This little paperback booklet includes only the Ordinary of the Mass, but it's available for about $7 a copy and is far less expensive and far more portable and affordable than many comparable products. My parish's website also includes links to an online version of the liturgical calendar used before Vatican II and a list of PDF handouts with the Propers for each week's EF Mass. It's a simple matter to consult the calendar, find out which Propers will be used that week, print them, fold them, and insert them into the missal. Many Mass-goers find this a simpler and more convenient option than using a larger and more expensive hand missal. I may try this option myself next week.

Dicas Latinae? Tertia pars (Do you speak Latin? Third Part)

Dicas Latinae? (Do you speak Latin?) Fortasse (Maybe).

I'm continuing with my explorations and investigations of what is variously called the Traditional Latin Mass, the Tridentine Mass, or the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite, but it's clear I still have a lot to learn. For instance, I just figured out that the Latin phrase I have been using to open each post in this series may actually be wrong. I learned it from an old retired priest who was filling in at a parish I used to belong to back in South Carolina. He was old enough to remember the days of the Latin Mass and could even remember the days when seminary classes were conducted in Latin to improve would-be priests' command of the language. He said he could recall instances where his brother priests greeted him with a phrase that sounded like "Dicas Latinae?" meaning "Do you speak Latin?" I learned the word fortasse (maybe) by using an online translation website. However, when I try to translate the English phrase, "Do you speak Latin?" using an online translator, I don't get Dicas Latinae, but something else. When I type in Dicas Latinae, I get something like, "The phrase you entered is not in the dictionary." Hmm. If someone out there in the interwebs can help improve my Latin and tell me which phrase to use, I would be grateful

Be that as it may. Since I last blogged on this topic, I've been to the Extraordinary Form Mass a few more times and officially joined the parish here in Charlotte where the EF Mass is regularly celebrated. (Those familiar with the Charlotte area or anyone else who really cares to can probably figure out which parish that is, but I will refrain from mentioning them by name here). For purposes of comparison, I've also attended one of their Ordinary Form (English) masses, and I found that both forms of the liturgy were celebrated with beauty, dignity, and, most importantly, reverence for Christ present in the Eucharist. I am ever so slowly beginning to get a sense of what's what in the EF, but much about it still mystifies me. I don't know if I'll switch to the Ordinary Form or continue with the Extraordinary Form. The little paperback hand missal for the Extraordinary form that I have (which is also available at the church) has only the Ordinary of the Mass but not the Propers. I'm pondering purchasing a hand missal which would have the Ordinary, the Propers, and perhaps some explanatory material which would help me understand, appreciate, and participate in this form of the Mass more fully.

On the other hand, perhaps the key to participating in the EF is not so much reading and following along and understanding as it is watching and listening and praying. A few weeks ago, I was privileged to attend the first Mass of Thanksgiving celebrated by Father Jason Christian, the Diocese of Charlotte's newest priest. Father Christian chose to celebrate a Solemn High Mass in the Extraordinary Form, assisted by several brother priests and numerous acolytes, servers, singers, and musicians, in addition to the schola cantorum of the parish. It was glorious to hear Gregorian Chant and sacred polyphony in their proper context, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, but I was frustrated by my inability to follow the liturgy because so many of the prayers of the priests and servers are said in a low, inaudible voice. Then it occurred to me that perhaps what I should do is not read along but watch, listen, pray, and enter into the liturgy that way.

I'd like to suggest that we do a similar thing when we watch a play or a movie. If I were going to see a performance of Othello, for example (my favorite Shakespeare play), I probably wouldn't take along a paperback copy of the script and read along with the actors as they deliver each line. If I did that, I'd miss the action on stage and miss the drama and excitement of the theatrical experience as the actors brought the story to life. Instead, I would probably reread the story beforehand so that I would know what to expect from the plot, thus freeing myself to watch the story unfold on stage, react, and relate to the characters.

I'm just thinking out loud here, but perhaps, in a similar way, we can view the Extraordinary Form as the greatest and highest kind of liturgical theater. By this I DO NOT mean that it is merely a show put on for our entertainment in the manner of a Broadway musical. I mean that it is a sacred drama whose story we already know: the re-presentation of Christ's sacrifice of his Body and Blood on the Cross for the salvation of the world. We can read the "script" or the story for this drama any time we wish by opening and reading the words in our missal. By attending Mass, praying, watching, and listening attentively, however, we can see and react as the "actors" in this drama, the priest, deacons, and servers, bring the story to life liturgically.

Dicas Latinae? Pars secunda (Do you speak Latin? Second part)

Dicas Latinae? (Do you speak Latin?) Fortasse (Maybe).

In the previous post, I described (at somewhat greater length than I anticipated) how I became interested in and curious about what is variously called the Tridentine Rite, the Traditional Latin Mass, or the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite. Now I'd like  to tell you a little bit about my first impressions about my first ever participation in this form of the Mass last Sunday at a local parish. This was an authorized celebration of the Latin form of the Mass promulgated in the 1962 Missal and in accordance with Pope Benedict XVI's motu proprio Summorum pontificum. This was not another form of the Latin Mass offered by the Society of St. Pius X (SSPX) or other schismatic groups.

I was almost an hour early for this liturgy because I had to use the city of Charlotte's Special Transportation Service (STS) to get there and had to be ready on their schedule. Another Mass in the Ordinary Form (English) was still going on, so while I waited for this Mass to end, I chatted with some other people who were already starting to gather outside. When the first Mass ended, I also spoke with some of the people attending it. To a person, they all spoke very highly of the church's pastor and complimented him and the church's staff for their efforts to celebrate truly beautiful and reverent liturgies. I spoke with the priest himself who assured me that "We try to do things a little differently here." Then we went inside.

I was immediately struck by the physical appearance of the church where this Mass was being celebrated. I don't know anything about architecture, but if I had to take a stab at describing the architectural style, I would call it neoclassical, rather than modernist; if by "neoclassical" one means balanced and well-proportioned and and by "modernist" one means ugly and full of bizarre shapes and strange angles, as with some newer Catholic churches I have visited. I would describe the interior as very traditional and very much what one might expect the interior of an older Catholic church to look like: a choir loft and a large marble baptismal font in the rear, pews of dark wood, large stained glass windows, large statues of the saints and Stations of the Cross prominently displayed on the walls, crucifix of dark wood, and a large, ornate, centrally positioned Tabernacle, prominently on display. This is in marked contrast to some more recently built churches I have visited where it seemed one needed a microscope to find the Stations of the Cross and a compass and a guide dog to find the Tabernacle. At this tradition-friendly parish there was also a large, old-fashioned elaborately carved wooden ambo that the celebrant had to reach by climbing up steps. I had only seen ambos like these in photographs of older European churches and cathedrals. (I wasn't trying to be flippant, but in my head I immediately dubbed this the "Ambo What Am.") If I had to choose a parish solely on the basis of aesthetics or appearance, I would choose this parish in a heartbeat.

Another thing that struck me was the pervasive (and I must say refreshing) atmosphere of quiet. Outside, on the grounds of the church and in the vestibule parishioners were talking with their friends as one might before or after any Mass, but once one went inside the sanctuary there was  an air of quiet, contemplation, and anticipation. Something special was about to happen. People talked in whispers, if at all. Mass-goers trickled in by twos and threes, until, I would guess, the church was about half full. Critics of the Latin Mass frequently like to portray its supporters and defenders as cranks, malcontents, and old fogeys who are hopelessly nostalgic for the nonexistent "good ol' days;" but from what I could see at this Mass, there was a wide range of ages in attendance, from families with young children to retirees and the elderly. Women are still strongly encouraged (but not required) to wear a head covering during the celebration of this form of the Mass, and there are few things cuter in this world than the sight of a girl under six wearing a chapel veil.

Mass began with the ringing of a bell, the chanting of an entrance antiphon, and a procession up the center aisle, much like in the Ordinary Form. So far so good. I knew the entire liturgy, except for the homily, and perhaps the readings, would be in Latin (Duh!) I knew the priest would stand ad orientam (literally, "to the East," facing the direction from which the sun rises, and symbolically the direction from which the Son of God rose on Easter morning. I knew the servers would answer on behalf of the congregation. What I perhaps knew but did not fully realize, was that I would not be able to hear what the priest and servers said. I suppose that without thinking about it, I had come expecting that the priest and servers would chant the prayers and responses in a voice loud enough to be audible, and I could follow along in my paperback missal which has the Latin text on the left hand page and the English on the right. This was not the case. Most of the prayers and responses were inaudible to me, and I presume to the rest of the congregation, except perhaps the people sitting right up front. This made it extremely difficult for me to follow the prayers of the Mass, and I eventually gave up trying and simply let myself experience it.

The only times I could really hear something were when the priest would turn to the congregation and chant Oremus (let us pray) followed by a prayer; Dominus vobiscum (the Lord be with you); or  Ite missa est (the Mass is ended). In the latter two cases, I did know that the proper responses were et cum spiritu tuo (and with your spirit) and Deo gratias (Thanks be to God) respectively. Chants and hymns, delivered by a very fine schola cantorum, floated out of the choir loft at the appropriate points in the liturgy, seemingly as if by magic (or perhaps I should say as if delivered by invisible angels). I suddenly realized the advantages of this arrangement over the usual practice in newer churches of having musicians and choir members at the front of the church. With a choir loft at the back, Mass-goers can hear and appreciate the music of the liturgy without being distracted by seeing musicians and choir members bustling about with instruments and hymnals and whatnot.

The Mass itself was followed by more prayers and the singing of the Salve Regina (Hail, Holy Queen), which happens to be one of the few Latin hymns I know. I joined in and later received a couple of compliments on my voice, which was flattering. Still trying to process this brand new experience, I introduced myself and shared my first impressions with my fellow Mass-goers. I quickly noticed that many defenders of the Latin Mass are passionate and almost fanatical about their favorite subject. One very earnest, well-meaning gentleman was prepared to tell me at great length and in great detail why the Mass in Latin was better than the Mass in English. When he began to mutter darkly about how "they" didn't want the Church to celebrate the Mass in Latin, I gently cut him off, fearing I was in for a paranoid rant.

Which brings me to the dark side of the Traditionalist movement. I've noticed when visiting Traditionalist websites and reading the comments of self-identified Traditionalists on Catholic blogs I read, that there are very unhealthy, uncharitable, and un-Christian strains of pride, arrogance, and paranoia running through much Traditionalist rhetoric. It is one thing to say that you wish to preserve and perpetuate the older traditions, devotions and forms of worship in the Catholic Church because they are ancient, venerable, beautiful, meaningful and great aids to holiness. There you have my sympathy. It is one thing to acknowledge and point out that since the reforms of the liturgy in the 1960s and '70s, on occasion there have been gross liturgical abuses committed in the name of "the spirit of Vatican II," or some other such foolishness. There you also have my sympathy.

It is quite another thing to let that zeal for the ancient traditions of the Church harden or transform into pride and arrogance and come to believe that YOU and and YOUR PARTICULAR GROUP of Catholics are the only REAL Catholics because YOU and YOUR GROUP are the only ones who celebrate Mass "the right way" (i. e. your group's way, as opposed to the way defined by the Universal Church—either the Ordinary Form or the Extraordinary Form set forth in the 1962 Missal). It is another thing entirely to heap scorn and contempt on your fellow Catholics who might not share your zeal and affection for the Traditional Latin Mass, and to insinuate or claim outright that  they are not really Catholics because of it.

Finally, it is completely unacceptable to claim that any Pope who promulgates or accepts the reformed, vernacular liturgy is somehow not the real Pope, as the "sedevacantists" do. Either the Catholic Church was founded by Jesus Christ and built upon the Rock of Peter, or it is not. Either the man chosen by the College of Cardinals is the legitimate successor of Peter or he is not. If the Catholic Church is the Church of Jesus Christ, and the Pope is the successor of Peter, than it is the radical Traditionalist and sedevacantist who has strayed from the truth, not vice versa. If the Catholic Church is not the church founded by Christ and built upon Peter and his successors, I submit that the radical traditionalists, who claim to love the Church so much, are calling Jesus Christ, the founder and head of the Church, a liar.

So much for my own rant. Will I go back? I don't know. Everyone I talked to acknowledged that the Extraordinary Form takes some getting used to, and may take a while to learn to appreciate. They urged me to keep coming back and keep giving it a try. When I pointed out that most of the prayers are inaudible, one gentleman tried to persuade me that this is actually an advantage. One can either follow along in the missal or pray silently on one's own knowing that the sacrifice of Christ is being re-presented, he said.

We'll see. I want real truth. I want real beauty. I want real transcendence. I believe these things can be found in the Catholic Church, and I believe they can be found in the Mass. It just might take some work to find them.

Dicas Latinae? Prima pars. (Do you speak Latin? First part)

Dicas Latinae? (Do you speak Latin?) Fortasse. (Maybe).

Yesterday, I attended my first ever Mass in the Extraordinary Form (aka Traditional Latin Mass, Tridentine Mass) at a parish here in Charlotte and lived to tell the tale. It was new. It was . . . different.

First, a few words of explanation.  I was born in 1963, smack dab in the middle of the Second Vatican Council, and by the time I was coming along, the reforms of the liturgy had been completely implemented and the Mass was entirely in English with the priest facing the people (versus populo, I believe it's called) and the liturgy structured as a dialogue between the priest and the people. I knew, of course, that there was an older Latin form of the Mass, but I didn't really know much about it. When I began blogging on Catholic topics in 2005, I quickly noticed that there seemed to be no faster or better way to start a virtual fistfight among Catholics on the internet than to venture an opinion, pro or con (See there, I used Latin!), on the Latin Mass.

Advocates said it was beautiful, mystical, ancient, and holy, and the de facto (See there, I used Latin again) suppression of the Latin Mass in favor of Mass in the vernacular after Vatican II was one of the worst things to ever happen to the Church. The virtual disappearance of the Latin Mass after Vatican II was alleged to be the root cause of plummeting Mass attendance and nosediving priestly vocations. (I always thought this was an example of the post hoc, ergo propter hoc fallacy, but no matter). Why on earth did the Church decide to change? Some advocates for the traditional Latin Mass claim that Dark Sinister Liberal Forces [TM] both inside and outside the Church, ranging from closet Protestants to Freemasons and neopagans deliberately suppressed the older form of the Mass and implemented their version of the liturgy for the purpose of destroying the Church. Some of these same advocates denounce even the motu proprio of Pope Benedict XVI, Summorum pontificum, authorizing a wider use of the Latin Mass in the 1962 Missal, as a mere piece of camouflage designed to draw gullible traditionalists into a carefully concealed and orchestrated modernist agenda.They claim that the Mass promulgated in the 1962 Missal is a "bastardized" form of the authentic Traditional Latin Mass.

Critics of the Latin Mass, on the other hand, usually argue that this form of the Mass is incomprehensible, in a language most people cannot understand or even hear, because the priest says most of the prayers with his back to the congregation and in a low, even inaudible voice. The people cannot see what takes place on the altar. Furthermore, critics claim, this Mass is elitist and exclusive because the altar boys (girls and women are not permitted to serve on the altar in the Extraordinary Form) answer on behalf of the congregation. The people are not permitted to speak for themselves except at certain times and are reduced to passive spectators.

For most of my life as a Catholic I would have put myself squarely in the modernist and contemporary camp. I took courses in church history in college and loved the sound of Latin words and phrases, but I couldn't imagine not being able to hear, understand, and verbally pray the prayers of the Mass. I couldn't imagine not being able to see what took place on the altar. I loved the music of the St. Louis Jesuits and the "folk Mass" movement of the 1960s and '70s.  I had a moment of revelation, however, when I first heard——really heard——sacred polyphonic music, first on a public radio classical music show, and then via Limewire and iTunes. I can recall stopping what I was doing just to listen, absolutely transfixed by the beauty of the blended voices. When I realized this was music for the liturgy, I was astounded. Why had I not heard this before? Why had every Catholic not heard this before? I wanted to hear more. After listening to the music of Tallis, Byrd, Palestrina, and Victoria, I concluded that the "folk" music I had loved so much when I was younger now seemed insufferably shallow and cheesy by comparison. More recent compositions, that sounded as if they belonged at a Celine Dion concert, and "praise and worship" style songs played on keyboards, electric guitars and (shudder) drums were even worse. When I realized that all this glorious music I had come to love was composed for the older form of the Mass, I concluded this older form, so often derided, disparaged, and dismissed, must have something going for it.

I began to study and try to learn more. I learned that the Second Vatican Council did not forbid the Latin Mass. Rather, it permitted the Mass in the vernacular. I learned that in the older form of the Mass, the priest does not stand "with his back to the congregation."  He stands facing the same direction as the people. Since the priest offers the Mass before God on behalf of the people, it makes perfect sense that he would face the same direction they do. I ordered a paperback Latin-English missal and a copy of Let's Read Latin, a short introductory course in ecclesiastical Latin created by the late Ralph McInerny, author of the Father Dowling novels. I set out trying to learn Church Latin, but it's tougher than it looks, and I couldn't keep up my enthusiasm when I knew that there wasn't a a parish near me that offered the Latin Mass . . .

Until I came to Charlotte, that is. Facebook friend Katrina Fernandez, author of The Crescat blog, recommended I try her parish, which is very tradition-friendly. When I saw that the parish regularly offered Mass in the Extraordinary Form, I decided to go and see what all the fuss was about. In my next post, I'll tell you what I found.

Well Said, Rich!

NOTE: This is an edited version of an earlier post.

For some time now I've been wanting to blog about Pope Benedict's recent motu proprio Summorum pontificum authorizing a wider use of the Latin form of the Mass as promulgated by Blessed Pope John XXIII in 1962 (Variously referred to as "the Traditional Latin Mass," the Tridentine Rite, and now by Pope Benedict, the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite). Several blogs I keep an eye on, including Patrick Archbold's Summorum pontificum blog and Father Z.'s What Does The Prayer Really Say? have been tracking the reactions of various priests and bishops around the world (which range from "Sounds like a great idea!" to "Hell no! Not in my parish/diocese!")I'd been having trouble putting my own thoughts into words, however until I ran across this post from the estimable Rich Leonardi, in which he reacts to a Missouri pastor's concerted effort to badmouth the Traditional Latin Mass.

The pastor writes:

I think that Pope Benedict’s decree reviving the old Latin Mass was a step backwards in the implementation of the decrees of the Second Vatican Council, which were approved and promoted by Pope Paul VI. The Council never intended there to be two forms of the Roman rite simultaneously. Latin at Mass, yes, but the old rite stemming back to the 16th century, clearly no. To keep a group of objectors in the Church, Pope John Paul gave permission to have the old Mass on a very limited scale in 1984, despite the nearly unanimous opposition of the bishops throughout the world. Now, Pope Benedict has given permission to go over the heads of the bishops as long as a “stably existing” community requests the old Mass an the pastors can prevent a disruption in their communities. The Council clearly wanted to give such power to the bishops, but in this too the Council’s teaching is being reversed.

Rich responds:

The thing is, I don't pine for the extraordinary form. While I welcome Pope Benedict's call for its expanded use, my preference is for a reverently-celebrated ordinary form that is faithful to the G.I.R.M., Sacrosanctum Concilium, and various papal instructions, rare as that species of Mass is. But nasty, dishonest, and disrespectful "reflections" from would-be popes are making me curious about what I'm missing. In other words, if people like this hate the extraordinary form so much, it must have something going for it. And I'll wager I'm not the only one thinking this way.

Well said, Rich! It seems to me that if Catholics are serious about the Second Vatican Council's declaration that "the eucharistic sacrifice is the source and the summit of the whole of the Church's worship and of the Christian life," we ought to celebrate that eucharistic sacrifice with as much beauty and dignity and reverence as we can muster. My mother once complained that a church we used to attend reminded her of "a K-Mart with pews." As Catholics, we believe (or we ought to believe) that in the Mass Jesus Christ himself comes among us and offers us his very Body and Blood! Shouldn't that moment be just a little more special than a trip to K-Mart? Shouldn't that moment be sacred? Shouldn't that moment be holy? If the use of Latin, ad orientem worship, Gregorian chant, and polyphony help us to make the Mass more sacred and more holy, then I say BRING THEM ON!

I was born in 1963, smack dab in the middle of Vatican II, so I have no memory of of the Traditional Latin Mass or how things used to be "back in the good old days." This is not a nostalgia trip for me, and it shouldn't be for the rest of the Church either. Simply saying, "Gee, remember the old Latin Mass, wasn't it swell?" will not do. If advocates for the wider celebration of the Traditional Latin Mass are to have any success, they must convince Catholics my age and younger that the this form of the Mass still has something good and beautiful and worthwhile to give to the Church (and I firmly believe it does). I think perhaps one of the best ways to persuade people of the beauty and value of the extraordinary form is to let people hear the great music the Traditional Latin Mass inspired. I, for example, am gaining an appreciation of the Traditional Latin Mass, "through the back door" so to speak, because I've discovered polyphony and the musical form that preceded it, Gregorian chant. If music this good was inspired by and created for the Traditional Latin Mass, then, as Rich says, the extraordinary form must have something going for it. Hearing Tallis and Byrd and Palestrina and Victoria has made me realize just how shallow and cheesy much of the ersatz '60s and '70s "folk music" I grew up on really is. Younger Catholics are being cheated out of their precious musical and liturgical heritage by not even having the opportunity to hear and appreciate this glorious music.

As for me, away with the cardboard and the bubblegum! Give me a liturgy that is truly reverent and dignified and beautiful, one with uncompromising proclamation of the Word of God, sound preaching, and inspiring music that lifts my mind and heart to God and is truly "a promise and foretaste of the paschal feast of heaven" as one of the eucharistic prayers says.

Picture Credit: Traditional Latin Mass being celebrated at St. John Neumann parish, Diocese of Knoxville, Tennessee.