“I would give my life for a ceremony of the
Church.” ~St. Teresa of Avila, Life, ch. 33.
“For 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 that is universal, immutable, and non-vernacular.” ~Pope
Pius XI, Officiorum Omnium, 1922.
“The day the Church abandons her universal
tongue [Latin] is the day before she returns to the catacombs.” ~Pope Pius XII
“If the Church is to remain truly the Catholic
Church, it is essential to keep a universal tongue.” ~Cardinal Heenan (1967).
“It [the Old Latin Mass] came forth out of the grand mind of the
Church, and lifted us out of earth and out of self, and wrapped us round in a
cloud of mystical sweetness and the sublimities of a more than angelic liturgy,
and purified us almost without ourselves, and charmed us with the celestial
charming, so that our very senses seemed to find vision, hearing, fragrance,
taste, and touch beyond what earth can give.” ~Fr. Frederick William Faber
“If there is anything divine among man's
possessions which might excite the envy of the citizens of heaven (could they
ever be swayed by such a passion), this is undoubtedly the Most Holy Sacrifice
of the Mass, by means of which men, having before their eyes, and taking into
their hands the very Creator of heaven and earth, experience, while still on
earth, a certain anticipation of heaven.” ~Pope Urban VII
“I declare, to me nothing is so consoling, so
piercing, so thrilling, so overcoming, as the Mass, said as it is among us. I
could attend Masses forever and not be tired. It is not a mere form of words;
it is a great ACTION - the greatest action that can be on earth. It is not the
invocation merely, but, if I dare use the word, the evocation of the Eternal.” ~Cardinal
Newman in Loss and Gain
“The Roman Rite, in important parts, goes back
at least to the fourth century, more exactly to the time of Pope Damasus (366-384).
The Canon of the Mass had attained by the time of Gelasius I (492-496) the form
it has kept until now, apart from some modifications made under Gregory I (590
-604). The only thing which the popes have unceasingly insisted upon since the
fifth century is that the Roman Canon must be adopted; their argument being
that it went back to the Apostle St. Peter.” ~Monsignor Klaus Gamber, The Reform of the Roman Liturgy: Its
Problems and Background (Una Voce Press, 1987/1993)
“Liturgical Reform, having as one of its basic
principles the abolition of all mystical acts and formulations, insists upon
the usage of modern languages for the divine service…. Hatred for the Latin
language is inborn in the heart of all enemies of Rome. They recognize it as
the bond that unites Catholics throughout the world, as the arsenal of
orthodoxy against all the subtleties of the sectarian spirit. They consider it
the most powerful arm of the Papacy.” ~Dom Prosper Gueranger, O.S.B., Liturgical Institutions, vol. 1, chapter
IV "The Antiliturgical Heresy"
(1840)
“We must admit that it is a master blow of
Protestantism to have declared war on the sacred language. If it should ever
succeed in ever destroying it, it would be well on the way to victory. Exposed
to a profane gaze, like a virgin who has been violated, from that moment on the
liturgy has lost much of its sacred character, and very soon people find that
it is not worthwhile putting aside one's work or pleasure in order to go and
listen to what is being said in the way one speaks in the marketplace. How long
do you think the faithful will go to hear these self-styled liturgists cry ‘The
Lord be with you’ and how long will they continue to respond ‘and with your
spirit’?” ~Dom Prosper Gueranger, O.S.B., Liturgical
Institutions, vol. 1, chapter IV "The
Antiliturgical Heresy" (1840)
“Immediately after the Second Vatican Council
it was presumed that requests for the use of the 1962 Missal would be limited
to the older generation which had grown up with it, but in the meantime it has
clearly been demonstrated that young persons too have discovered this
liturgical form, felt its attraction and found in it a form of encounter with
the Mystery of the Most Holy Eucharist.” ~Pope Benedict XVI, Summorum Pontificum
************
The kids are old rite
Written by Matthew Schmitz
Young Catholics feel they have
been denied their inheritance. Where do they go from here?
Last week, in a speech to Italian liturgists,
Pope Francis appeared to set in stone the liturgical changes that came at the
time of Vatican II. “After this magisterium, after this long journey,” he said,
“we can affirm with certainty and with magisterial authority that the
liturgical reform is irreversible.” Liberal commentators celebrated his
comments as a blow to the “the re-emergence of a certain neo-clericalism with
its formalism” and rejoiced that the “restorationist movement in liturgy is
being reversed”.
Liberals have reason to be glad: Francis has
shown that he is sympathetic to their desire for a liturgy that feels more like
a communal meal than an ancient sacrifice. But does Francis’s declaration mean
that after millennia of development liturgical evolution has arrived at a final
state and now must stop? In a word, no. One might as well magisterially declare
that spilt milk can’t be put back in the carton, or dogmatically define that
Humpty Dumpty can’t be reassembled, as proclaim that liturgical reform cannot
be reversed. It is like a son proudly declaring that he cannot undo a grave
mistake. The observation is incontestable, even if shame would be preferable to
boasts. The question is not whether we can undo past blunders, but rather how
to clean up the mess.
Francis’ remarks are yet another sign of his
anxiety over the traditional direction in which young Catholics are carrying
the Church. We have seen this before, in the stories he tells about young
priests who shout
at strangers and play
dress-up, unlike the wise, old, compassionate (and liberal)
monsignori. Francis has played variations of John Lennon’s Imagine: “We are grandparents
called to dream and give our dream to today’s youth: they need it.” Maybe so,
but the youth do not seem to want it.
As any young progressive or old traditionalist
will tell you, age does not dictate whether one prefers dogma or liberty,
ritual or casualness. Yet across much of the Catholic world, young
traditionalists are competing against old progressives. Ironies abound, as
youths who revere the venerable face off against elders who chase the
up-to-date, and progressives who fear the future battle with traditionalists
who loathe their immediate forebears.
Anyone who doubts the reality of the conflict
should visit a monastery or convent, where young monastics will almost
invariably be more traditional than their elders. In France, in 20 years’ time
a majority of priests will celebrate exclusively the traditional Latin mass.
Wherever one looks, the kids are old rite.
Few have spoken as eloquently about the changes
the Church is undergoing as Fr René Dinklo, provincial of the Dutch Dominicans,
and the only member of his order from Generation X. One of Fr Dinklo’s earliest
memories is of a confessional filled with the drums used by the youth choir. By
the time he joined the order in the early 1990s, the Dutch Dominicans had
discarded their traditional prayers and come to believe that the order would be
transformed into an assembly of laymen. He had reason to think he would be the
last priest in a province that had lasted for 500 years.
Then the province began to get vocations. The
young Dutch Dominicans were eager to reconstitute the forms of life and prayer
their elders had dismantled. “We are on the brink of far-reaching changes,” Fr
Dinklo observed in an address last year. “In this situation tensions between
generations may arise.” The younger men want to wear the habit and “re-discover
a number of religious practices, rituals, forms of singing and prayer from the
tradition which the older generation has set aside”. In order to avoid
generational conflict, these young men are being established in a new house.
In a 2010 address, Archbishop Augustine DiNoia
described the experiences of these young traditionalists. “My sense is that
these twenty- and thirty-somethings have been radicalised by their experience …
in a way that we were not.” After “God-knows-what kinds of personal and social
experiences”, they have come to know “moral chaos, personally and socially, and
they want no part of it”. A sense of narrow escape guides their vocations. “It
is as if they had gone to the edge of an abyss and pulled back.”
DiNoia’s generation sought to unite the Church
and the world, but the young priests believe the two are finally opposed. “It
may be hard for us to comprehend, but these young people do not share the
cultural optimism that many of us learned to take for granted in the
post-conciliar period.” They lament the “Church’s own internal secularisation”,
particularly “the disenchantment of the liturgy”. This explains their
enthusiasm for the 1962 missal.
DiNoia is anxious for the priests of his
generation. Despite their talk of being open to the future, “I am not certain
that we … are entirely ready for the kind of radical rejection of the ambient
culture on the one hand, and, on the other, the radical commitment to the
Dominican-Catholic alternative way of life that we recognise in the young men.”
Many young Catholics feel that they have been
denied an inheritance that was rightly theirs. They have had to reassemble
piecemeal something that should have been handed to them intact. An English
academic recently told me of his attempt to obtain a copy of the Dictionnaire de théologie catholique,
a reference book that went from impeccable authority to liber prohibitus at the time of the
Council. He contacted a Belgian who helped declining religious houses dispose
of their libraries. This Belgian found a Franciscan community that was willing
to sell its set – but at the last moment took a different course. The monks
decided to burn the books, “to prevent them getting into the hands of
traditionalists”.
Who are these terrifying young traditionalists?
Step into a quiet chapel in New York and you will find an answer. There, early
each Saturday morning, young worshippers gather in secret. They are divided by
sex: women on the left, men on the right. Dressed in denim and Birkenstocks,
with the occasional nose piercing, they could be a group of loiterers on any
downtown sidewalk. But they have come here with a purpose. As a bell rings,
they rise in unison. A hooded priest approaches the altar and begins to say
Mass in Latin. During Communion, they kneel on the bare floor where an altar
rail should be.
In a city where discretion is mocked and vice
goes on parade, the atmosphere of reverence is startling. These Masses began a
year ago, when a young priest finally gave in to the young worshippers’
demands. They wanted the traditional Mass; he feared offending older colleagues
who loathe it. This secret conventicle was the compromise. Advertised by word
of mouth among students and young professionals, it has slowly grown.
After the Last Gospel, the worshippers break
their fast nearby with coffee. I ask one how she started coming here. “I’ve
been going to Mass for 24 years,” she says. “I still go to both forms, but when
I encountered the Latin Mass it felt more reverent. I was taken out of this
world.” Her manner is disarming, her dress contemporary and unassuming. As the
conversation drifts into a discussion of why Pius IX was right in the Mortara
case, I reflect that she is the kind of person image-conscious Catholics would
like to hold up as the Church’s future – were she not so drawn to its past.
Matthew Schmitz is senior editor of First Things and a Robert Novak Journalism Fellow. This article first appeared in the September 1 2017 issue of the Catholic Herald.