
Today, I decided to alter my Sunday routine and attended the traditional Latin mass at Sacred Heart of Jesus Church in Grand Rapids. I hear a lot about the Latin mass, both in terms of the history of the Church, and in terms of the controversy that accompanies much talk of the sacred liturgy. And, more importantly, the Latin mass is in the midst of a comeback: there are now 360 Latin Sunday masses in over 150 United States dioceses, this is up 120 from 2007. This is not to mention incidences of the Latin mass outside of the U.S., which is no doubt also considerable. There is much speculation as to the rise in its popularity, but a trend I have personally observed at least in the Catholic Church 'round here is that the younger generations are far more conservative, and generally more devout, than their Baby Boomer elders. I have a few friends going into the priesthood, and they are far more committed to the Church than the parish priest down the road in terms of devotion to the sacraments, the Bible, and the teachings of the Church.
A bit of history and terminology needs to be clarified before delving into the subject further. First, Pope Benedict XVI clarified in his
motu proprio letter
Summorum Pontificum in 2007 that there are two forms, or expressions, of the Roman Rite of the Mass. Let us remember that the Roman Rite is the most common of the several liturgical rites of the Catholic Church. No rite is more
right than another - a Catholic may satisfy his Sunday obligation at any Catholic parish whether it be Roman, Mozarabic, Byzantine, Melkite, Chaldean or what have you. In terms of numbers, however, the Roman Rite far outnumbers all of the other rites and is the liturgy most people, Catholic or not, identify as 'the Catholic Mass.' Anyway, the Roman Rite is expressed currently in two ways: the Ordinary Form, codified by Pope Paul VI in 1970 in the wake of the reforms of the Second Vatican Council; and the Extraordinary Form, contained in the missal codified and reissued by Blessed Pope John XXIII in 1962. The Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite is what is commonly known as the 'traditional Latin mass.'
Both forms of the Roman Rite are equally valid and acceptable in the eyes of the Church. They are two expressions of the same truth which flows from Christ's redeeming sacrifice, made present in the Eucharist. The liturgy, it must be remembered, means 'work of the people' and has never been set in stone. However, it is a sacred and profound mystery that must be treated as such, and it should not be changed lightly. We must recall that the mass is a manifestation of the eternal liturgy of heaven, so eloquently hinted at in the Book of Revelation.
That being said, the way each form of the mass manifests these mysteries is distinct. The Ordinary Form is of course more approachable, given its vernacular language. The Extraordinary Form is much more mystical and foreign, evoking the hidden majesty of God. As I said, whatever liturgical abuses that may accompany the Ordinary Form (i.e. liturgical dancing, morally lax homilies, decreased reverence for the Sacrament, etc.) we must recall that it is equal in dignity to the Extraordinary Form, and can perhaps learn a thing or two from it.
Anyways, to get on with today's Latin mass experience. Going into the thing, the characterization of what is often called 'the old mass' went something like this: "The priest faced away from the people, women wore veils, communion was received on the tongue while kneeling, and it was all recited in a dead language. Thank goodness for Vatican II which brought us out of the dark ages." It was a pretty depressing picture from that angle. But, I experienced things quite a bit differently today. Let me go through a few key points.
'Dead' Language
The most obvious difference, of course, was that the mass was said entirely in Latin, with exception of the Epistle, the Gospel, and the Homily. Many are put off by this 'dead, foreign language', because they cannot 'understand' what is going on. This is being a bit simplistic if you ask me. Yes, Latin is no longer a living language, which means it is not a changing language. Latin is basically eternal, it cannot change. This make it the perfect language for liturgy. Things said in 1344 mean the same as things said in 1994, whereas English and all other living languages have changed dramatically in the span of those six centuries.
Additionally, Latin
is the language of the Church. It is an aspect of her sacred unity. With the Latin mass, a priest from Cambodia can be understood by a person from Cameroon within the context of the liturgy. They are taken away from their common, pedestrian language and put into communion with one another by a sacred language, reserved for the worship of God.
Which leads naturally to the next point about language in the mass: how do we speak to God in mass? It is my hope that such a sacred event would inspire language that is not often used in the course of the other six days of the week. This is a big deal. We dress up for church because it's important, perhaps we should start speaking like it's important.
The final point to be made about Latin is that it is not readily understandable. What? Did I read that correctly? Yes, candid reader, indeed you did. God and his ways are mysterious. If nothing else, Latin in the liturgy heightens that sense of the mysteriousness of God's workings in our hearts and lives.
Priest Faces the Wall
Yes, for most of the mass, the priest faces
ad orientem or
toward the (liturgical) east. Directions have special meanings in the liturgical realm. They may not always correspond with the actual direction one is facing, but they carry meanings within themselves. For instance, east is considered the direction of the coming of Christ. I immediately think of the hymn "People Look East". The ancient Jews believed the messiah would come from the East, and we know of course that Jesus comes to us 'from the east' during each mass. West, conversely, is often referred to as the direction of spiritual death. The sun 'dies' in the west. That is why one enters a traditional church through liturgical west and then marks himself with the sign of the cross from the baptismal font. He has left behind his spiritual death, gone through the saving waters of baptism and is ready to receive Christ, rising in the east.
There is a certain pattern, then, that can be discerned in the directionality of the mass. With the priest facing 'east' with the congregation, the entire gathering, symbolic of the people of God assembled, look east together toward Christ. Christ, then, becomes the focus of the entire action of the mass. The priest becomes the head of the people of God assembled, offering the sacrifice of Christ
in persona Christi with us as witnesses.
And, on a less esoteric note; the mass is not about the priest, whether in the Ordinary or Extraordinary Form. The priest is a medium of God's grace during the sacred mass, he is not an attraction unto himself - ideally. Facing
ad orientem reinforces this holy humility that the clergy are especially called to.
Communion kneeling, received on the tongue
This really seems to me not that large of an objection. Movement in the liturgy symbolizes the actions occurring. For instance, during the Creed, we bow during the sentence, "By the power of the Holy Spirit, he was born of the Virgin Mary, and became man." This is to emphasize, with our body language, the sacredness of God becoming man. Kneeling, in the same way, imparts a certain message by its very action. Kneeling to receive Jesus in the Eucharist is simply another way in which we acknowledge our humility in accepting the King of Kings into our bodies sacramentally. Likewise, receiving on the tongue allows us not to touch the host with our hands, a further emphasis of our unworthiness.
Final Thoughts
All in all, I found the Latin mass rather enriching. This was the exact way mass was said from the mid-1500s until 1963, with the pre-1500 masses differing little. It then emphasizes communion with the
whole Church, including those legions of faithful who have gone before us and make up the Church Triumphant in heaven. The sense of sacredness was heightened not only by the aforementioned qualities, but also by the long periods of silence, when the priest was saying things very quietly at the altar. Silence is itself a gift of God in an increasingly noisy world. It allows time for meditative prayer, and simple wonder and awe, a gift of the Holy Spirit which is often hard to grasp.
That's my two cents. I encourage all to attend a traditional Latin mass. Side note: the church was quite full, with a very diverse crowd; young families, teenagers, middle-aged adults, old people, Latinos, Asians. This was an encouraging sign as to the continued relevance of this time-honored sacred event.
Latin Mass at Sacred Heart of Jesus Church in Grand Rapids is at 12:30 p.m. each Sunday.