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The Doctor and I got a little surprise today at Mass today. We’re getting low Masses for the course of the summer at St. Augustine’s parish, sadly. It’s one of those “we’re giving the choir the summer off” things, I guess. Anyway, everything proceeded as normal until we sat down for the epistle reading. Father moved to the usual place, and began reading it… in English!
We’ve only been in town a few weeks, but this was the first time here or anywhere that we’d heard the readings done first in the vernacular (in a traditional Latin Mass, that is.) Naturally we were somewhat startled, and Father obligingly devoted his homily to explaining the change, which he apparently plans to apply now to all low Masses in his two parishes.
The provision for reading Scripture in the vernacular was apparently mentioned by Cardinal Castrillon Hoyos in his June 14 address to the Latin Mass society of England and Wales. He mentions that, while chant is preferred for high Masses, “for less solemn celebrations the Liturgy of the Word may be proclaimed directly in the language of the people.” Looking back over the text of the Motu Proprio, the Doctor and I found that in fact, the provision is also mentioned there. In Article 6 it declares that, “In Masses celebrated in the presence of the people in accordance with the Missal of Bl. John XXIII, the readings may be given in the vernacular, using editions recognized by the Apostolic See.”
It seems evident that Fr. Echert, the pastor of St. Augustine’s, is on firm canonical ground with his decision not to read Scripture in Latin when celebrating low Masses. The Holy Father has approved it, Cardinal Castrillon has reiterated that it is permissible, and as pastor it is certainly his prerogative to make such a change. Nonetheless, it made me sad. Obviously I’m a newcomer here and can’t pretend to be clued into all the needs of Fr. Echert’s parishes. But it seemed to me like rather a shame, and his explanatory homily made me feel even sadder about it.
The earliest portion of Fr. Echert’s homily was devoted to establishing that the change he is implementing has, in fact, been approved by the Holy See. On that point, as I’ve just said, he is quite right. The next obvious question is of course, “but why would we want to do something like this?” It took me awhile to figure out how the second portion of his homily applied to that question. He talked about how the Holy Father and Cardinal Castrillon are eager to spread the Traditional Latin Mass to all parishes and not just a few isolated ones. He spoke of the benefit of implementing liturgical changes even in the Novus Ordo, such as building altar rails and encouraging people to use them (something he has done with his congregations.) He opined that Vatican II would never have wrought the damage that it did, if the only real change had been to do the Scripture readings in the vernacular. All this time I was nodding, agreeing, admiring in particular his efforts to encourage reverent reception at the altar rails, but also wondering, “how does this amount to an argument for switching Scripture to the vernacular?
I’m not sure he ever quite distilled the point into a few blunt sentences, or maybe I just missed them. (That’s the trouble with analyzing homilies, of course. You don’t have the text in front of you to re-examine in retrospect.) But I think I finally got the general idea. He thinks that omitting the Latin readings of Scripture will make the Latin Mass more easily palatable to Catholics raised in the Novus Ordo. As a pastor to many such people, he would naturally be thinking about ways to make the Mass seem more acceptable to them, and also he obviously wants to be in the vanguard with the initiative to spread the Traditional Latin Mass more widely. And on that note, he considers (he mentioned this specifically) that reading the Scripture passages in both Latin and the vernacular will seem unnecessary and redundant to many people, and that it can prove especially difficult in Masses when the readings are very long.
This last point didn’t seem terribly relevant to me. Are there any extraordinarily long readings apart from the Passion? I don’t object to reading that only in English on, say, Monday or Tuesday of Holy Week. But on Palm Sunday and Good Friday, you’d hope that it would be chanted. The rest of the year the readings are short enough that it won’t add more than a couple of minutes, I’d think, to read them in both languages. Is the time really that much of an issue?
Well, possibly it is for some people, and also in some people’s minds there’s just something annoying about anything that smacks of wasted time. Somewhat to my astonishment, I’ve heard Catholics get rather heated before on the subject of being forced to sing too many verses of the recessional hymn. Now, as someone who likes to sing, I’m usually a bit disappointed if we don’t get to sing all the verses, and it seems very strange to me that people should be in such a hurry that they would desperately need to save that extra ninety seconds or so that it would take to finish the hymn. But for some people, the actual amount of time lost may be beside the point. Wasted time of any kind is just irritating, and reading the same passages twice, once in a language that they don’t understand, seems like a waste.
If cutting the Latin readings of Scripture really makes the difference for some congregations, then so be it. It’s certainly not an unacceptable compromise. But it’s a non-trivial loss as far as I’m concerned, and I worry that it may be unwise from a prudential standpoint as well, at least in many places and for many groups of people. The later part of Fr. Echert’s homily perfectly underscored my worry. It was basically a familiar primer on why Latin isn’t really essential. He reminded us that the Bible was not originally written in Latin, and that the Latin translation was adopted by the Church for the good of the people. At that time, Latin was the most widely used, most practical language in which to put things. Now it isn’t! And following that familiar observation, we were treated to an extended description of just how dead Latin really is, with almost nobody speaking it, hardly anybody studying it (not even seminarians!), and even Vatican officials having little familiarity with the language. He did mention in passing that it was unfortunate about the seminarians.
Unfortunate, yes, certainly, but surely he realizes that in this case, we killed the language mostly by deciding it was dead, and we keep it in the grave only by declaring its continued irrelevance. Bring the Latin back into the life of the Church, and gradually people will begin to understand why it matters! For most Catholics today the treasure is so lost from view that they can’t even understand that they’re missing something. There’s no good way to rectify that except by exposure. Surround them by the mystery, let the beautiful syllables sink into their minds, and gradually they will become sensible of the wonder of hearing the very same words that the Church has proclaimed for centuries. They will be amazed at the sudden feeling of closeness with the saints, realizing that one of the barriers that separated us from them has now been lifted. They will come to understand that learning Latin is like finding a key to a trove of the Church’s (and Western civilization’s, for that matter) richest treasures.
And once those truths begin to sink in, I think we’ll find more people wanting to learn Latin. In fact, it’s already happening.
I myself am quite a poor Latinist, but even my slender knowledge is enough to make me really enjoy hearing the readings in Latin. Indeed, the readings are the place, more than any other in the Mass, when I especially enjoy the Latin itself. The ordinary is so familiar by now that I’m not thinking much of language per se as we go through it. The propers often fly by too quickly to give them proper attention, and of course large portions of the canon are spoken silently by the priest at a low Mass. But the Scripture readings are the perfect place to relish the beauty of Latin. Because the English is already familiar to me, and because I know that I’ll be hearing it again in just a few moments, I don’t have to concentrate too hard on just getting the bare meaning of the passage. Instead, I can savor the delicate details — the juggling of the syntax to give a certain emphasis that I never heard before, the use of a word that I wouldn’t have expected to appear in that place, or, barring those higher-level observations, the lovely sonorous sound of a familiar passage intoned in Jerome’s Latin.
Even for people with no knowledge of Latin, it seems to me that this is the part of the Mass most likely to spark an interest. It’s always fun to realize that you’re hearing your favorite Gospel story, in the language of the Church. I remember what a thrill it gave me the first time, in my introductory Latin course, they let us read a tidbit from the Vulgate. It was familiar stuff, and at the same time enchantingly strange and mysterious, set down in those same words that were pondered by so many saints through history. It makes me sad to think of all the young Catholics out there who have never heard the words “Quid est veritas?” or “tu es Petrus et super hanc petram aedificabo ecclesiam meam et portae inferi non praevalebunt adversum eam” or “ego sum lux mundi qui sequitur me non ambulabit in tenebris sed habebit lucem vitae.” There’s a magic in these that no Catholic should have to miss. Maybe this is just an oddity of mine, and maybe there i lots of Catholics out there yawning and shifting their feet irritably during the Latin readings. I still have to think, though, that there is a real value to this part of the liturgy.
We’ve only been in this area a short time, but we’ve been here long enough to know that Fr. Echert is no enemy of tradition. It’s obvious that he has worked and fought very hard to make the Traditional Latin Mass available to the people of this area, and also to bring some salutary traditions back into the Novus Masses in his two parishes. Still, his homily today was of a kind to put a chill in the heart of any lover of the Church’s language. I was just imagining some child telling his parents as they drove home, “You see, Father explained how Latin was an important language back in the old days, but it isn’t used anymore except in a few prayers and stuff. So why do I have to learn it?”
As I said before, it seems beyond question that it is permissible to put the readings in the vernacular in both forms of the Mass. Doing so would certainly be an acceptable price to pay if there were something substantial to be gained, such as the return of the Traditional Latin Mass to every parish in the world. But is there a great gain of this kind to be had? How much the change actually affects St. Augustine’s parish presumably depends on how often the low Mass is said; I’m not certain but I’m hoping that, after the summer ends, we’ll get high Masses on most Sundays (and feast days too, perhaps!?). So maybe the loss won’t really be that significant, and we’ll still get lots of opportunity to enjoy the words of Scripture read out in the language of the Church. Still, it’s an initiative that makes me unhappy. It seems to me that we should be doing all we can to impress on people the significance of Latin, rather than using our words and our liturgy to further diminish its relevance in the minds of the people of God.
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
I like what the Toronto Oratory does: they read *only* in Latin, then, at the start of the Homily, quote a single line from the readings in English, which they then take as their text, and begin to preach.
With universal literacy and cheap reproduction methods to provide everyone with a copy of the readings in the vernacular for his own, this is adequate, saves the time that you note some people inexplicably think needs saving (got to get outta Mass! ;), and saves the Latin.
I don’t know why this isn’t done more elsewhere. It takes getting used to — I initially disliked it — but over time, it really grows on you.
Oddly enough, this has been the practice of the SSPX for years in certain parts of the world. Indeed, some SSPX faithful were surprised when a French priest turned around, picked up the missal, and began to spot translate St. Paul into English. This is also common in Argentina as well.
That’s interesting, Arturo. I’d certainly never heard that before. I wonder what their rationale was?
I agree wholeheartedly with Clara. It’s not forbidden, common well before the Council in some places, not an attack on essentials, not unfamiliar among those who believe themselves the guardians of tradition in all its purity . . . and it is stupid, pointless, and wrong-headed.
Worth noting, by the way, is that the lingua franca in much, probably most, of the Mediterranean world for the first Christian centuries was Greek, not Latin. The use of Latin came not because it was the language of the people, but because it was the language of Rome, the seat of the Church.
I went to an SSPX chapel in Argentina for a time. The practice there was to read the scripture in Spanish immediately following the chanting of the Epistle or Gospel from the exact same position, only facing the people instead of the altar.
Sometimes I get the impression that people today have a hard time *listening* to any Scripture reading being proclaimed, regardless of the language. It’s somewhat of a lost skill in our culture.
My practice at Mass in English (before I had a toddler crawling on me) was always to follow along in the Vulgate…and it did bring some interesting insights (and was suited for my very poor Latin skills).
In the Paul VI lectionary schedule, by the way, there are some very long daily Mass scripture passages (for example, the entire story of Susanna unjustly accused by the elders). The John XXIII lectionary schedule (which I think you are using) contains very few of those OT stories/passages.
The language used in the 1962 rite should be Latin only. The vernacular cannot be substituted anywhere, as I understand it. In the US in days of yore I am told that it was permissible to read the Epistle and Gospel in English. In the UK the Epistle and Gospel were read from the pulpit immediately before the sermon after they had first been read in Latin.It seems to me to set a dangerous precedent: why not the Collect or the Postcommunion in English too? The restoration of the 1962 rite is exactly that: not an excuse for more and more innovation. There should be no compromises at all to appease Novus Ordo goers. They can have endless variations - and have done - all year round; the Old Rite is stable, constant and beautiful. It stands as it is. No modifications please! It will be all the more appreciated and loved for that. Jeremy Boot
Can’t say I totally agree with you there, Jeremy. Although on the one hand we shouldn’t think of the Mass as something in need of perpetual “fixing”, it isn’t a fossil either. Liturgies can be changed from time to time, by the appropriate authorities. You can find a little more on my views on this here:
http://www.cornellsociety.org/2008/01/living-liturgy/#more-2090
That said, I do obviously agree that this particular change is one I’d rather not see.
Clara,
At our first two Sunday Masses following your departure from this area, both the Epistle and the Gospel were beautifully chanted in Latin with a rich Roman accent (by a different diocesan celebrant than the one you’re most familiar with, though you’ve heard him chant the Gospel on one occasion I recall).
Then, coincidentally, three days after your first vernacular reading experience, I myself was surprised to hear the Epistle and Gospel read at the altar in English — at the Wednesday low Mass we now have (with still another diocesan celebrant).
I undoubtedly would have voted against it if given a choice in advance, but after reflection I have no strong objection to this, if restricted to late-in-the-day low Masses, especially with young children present (though I’m not sure of any good rationale for this condition). However, I would strongly and perhaps emotionally oppose vernacular readings in place of chanted Latin at a high Mass, as well as at the quiet devotional low Mass of fond memory at dawn each day, when no one wants to hear the readings clearly proclaimed in any language, whether living or dead.
“However, I would strongly and perhaps emotionally oppose vernacular readings in place of chanted Latin at a high Mass, as well as at the quiet devotional low Mass of fond memory at dawn each day, when no one wants to hear the readings clearly proclaimed in any language, whether living or dead.”
Well put! And I’m delighted to hear that you’ve been able to get some weekday low Masses!
An interesting update from St. Augustine’s: The Doctor and I had the strange experience of being startled twice in a row by the Sunday epistle reading. This last week, despite his announcement from the week before, Fr. Echert in fact began reading the epistle in Latin! And then went on to read the Gospel in Latin too. He said that, after prayerful reflection and conversations with members of the parish, he has decided to postpone this change for Sunday Masses, and to continue reading the epistle and Gospel in Latin first and then in English.
Naturally this decision pleases me in and of itself. But it pleases me also because it seems to represent healthy interaction between pastor and parishioners. Though I don’t really know what words were exchanged between whom, I seriously doubt that Father would have been cowed by lectures or threats; he seems quite a strong-willed individual. So I must suppose that those people who expressed concern did so in a respectful and appropriate way. And Fr. Echert, though still apparently an advocate of this change in general, seems willing to adapt his approach in response to the needs of his own parish. All of which seems to bode well for the health of St. Augustine’s as a parish.
http://wdtprs.com/blog/2008/07/a-word-to-biters-of-the-consecrated-hand/
I doubt that Fr. Z. had this post in mind, but apparently he had a post on another blog that regarded the vernacular readings at St. Augustine’s (thus spake Fisheaters).
Oh, here it was: http://angelqueen.org/forum/viewtopic.php?t=20470
Good to see that the response on your site was reasonable, even if raising issues with one’s pastor by name in a public forum is a questionable enterprise, to say the least.
Why don’t you write Fr. Echert a letter addressing all of these issues?
Ah, was that what inspired the little rant from Fr. Z? Interesting. Anyway, scanning quickly over the Angel Queen conversation, I can confidently say that I wouldn’t have permitted anything like the comments I saw there to be left on this blog. The reason I felt it appropriate to bring the issue up here is because it wasn’t an issue with Fr. Echert per se; it was just a liturgical issue, of the sort that people who read this blog might find interesting to discuss. If it were something personal, or something about which I was deeply upset/angry, I wouldn’t talk about it here. I should think my respect for Fr. Echert personally, and for his authority as pastor of St. Augustine’s, was evident from the way I wrote the post. But if you think it would be more up-front of me to forward the post to him, I don’t mind at all; I’m not trying to be secretive here. (And anyway, I learned a long time ago that it’s not possible to be secretive on the blogosphere! The most surprising people find your posts when you talk about them — case in point, the Eskimo incident from last fall.)
I suppose one or two sentences may have seemed critical of Father’s homily in a way that was more personal. So, sorry if that was indiscreet. I’ll beg off on a technicality — Fr. Echert wasn’t actually my pastor yet when I wrote that. Now that he is I’ll say nothing but good things. ;)
Although I didn’t know until now what he was responding to, I personally thought that Fr. Z’s post was a little… well, liable to confuse, perhaps? I can understand why he was upset on Fr. Echert’s behalf, certainly, but of course most of the people who read it probably didn’t have the context to know what he was going on about, and his little lecture seemed to blur together quite a lot of different issues. For one thing, it doesn’t seem very nice to call people “hobbyists” of the Latin Mass just because they’re laymen. I guess on some level all Catholics could be classified as religious “hobbyists” if the Church hasn’t literally become their career, but that’s kind of a misleadingly trivial way of talking about it, don’t you think? Or, if being a “hobbyist” just means that your connections to the Traditional Latin Mass are all the product of your own choice/discernment of what’s best, and not of definite authoritative orders, then not only all laymen, but also many of the priests who say the Latin Mass would be “hobbyists”. That’s not to say, however, that both priests and laymen can’t have a true and serious commitment to Catholic tradition, and can’t have made significant sacrifices for the same.
More to the point, though, that post seemed to be blurring together a lot of issues concerning respect for priests. If everyone knows that we’re talking about one specific priest, it’s fine to tell people that they should respect him because he’s a) a priest, b) their pastor, and therefore an authority figure for them specifically, c) intelligent and knowledgeable about matters of the faith, and d) a stalwart friend of Catholic tradition. I think Fr. Echert can reasonably said to be all of those things (except, of course, that (b) would only apply to some people.) But Fr. Z’s post was ostensibly about priests in general (anyway the title certainly gave that impression), and of course with priests in general you can find all combinations of those traits. Perhaps being a priest always implies some level of authority over laymen — I’ve never been quite sure in what sense a priest who isn’t my pastor has authority over me. Certainly, I think there should be a presumption that any priest should be treated with a special kind of respect. But it definitely isn’t the case that all priests are intelligent or knowledgeable about the faith, nor are all priests friends of tradition. Anyway, it just concerns me, because when people get the idea that priests should be respected mainly for their learning or their dedication to tradition, we may ironically find that their respect for the priesthood per se is ultimately diminished once they encounter priests who don’t meet all their expectations.
Anyway, as I say, I understand the irritation, and it isn’t that I think Fr. Z did any great harm with that post. But if he really wanted to address the issue of respect for priests, in a way that would be helpful to more than the people he immediately wanted to chastise, something clearer and more careful would probably do more good.