| Home > From the Pastor (Scroll down for previous From the Pastor entries) AN ANONYMOUS LENTEN SUGGESTION
Whenever I receive a handwritten letter with no return address, and especially if “Pastor” is written after my name, red flags go up all over the place because I assume the contents will be destined for the complaint department in my mind. However, I received such an envelope recently only to open it and discover an absolutely delightful, down-to-earth reflection on the subject of Lenten fasting. Since I have no way to thank the parishioner who wrote it, and because I think the advice is right on target, I thought I’d share it here by way of thanking that very thoughtful and insightful “Fellow Parishioner.” A NEW MASS TO LEARN – FINAL THOUGHTS
As we
begin to pray today with the new English edition of the New Roman Missal, I have
a few final thoughts to share. However, after sixteen of these articles, you
might have thought there was no end to my thoughts! A NEW MASS TO LEARN: NEW LANGUAGE FOR OUR PRAYER In the sixth article in this series, Sacred Speech, I reflected on the unique and sacred nature of worship which challenges us to speak differently than we do in any other situation. In succeeding articles, I’ve given examples of the distinctive—and sometimes unusual—words we’ll be praying or hearing in the responses and prayers of the assembly and in the Eucharistic Prayers of the mass. The language of the mass isn’t reverting to Latin, but the style of language will be different. And there are other prayers called “presidential” which the priest-presider prays at the beginning and end of mass, and just before the Preface. These prayers will change quite dramatically, with greater formality and theological precision, more poetic language and scriptural allusions, and with added phrases emphasizing the humility we should feel in daring to ask anything of our Creator God. The first presidential prayer of the mass is returning to its original name, the Collect. It had been called the Opening Prayer after Vatican II, but the return to the original reflects the purpose of this prayer in the mass: it collects the prayers of God’s people as we enter into worship and directs those prayers toward the season or feast being celebrated. Also, after Vatican II, the presider had a choice of two “opening prayers” for Sundays and solemnities, one of which was an original composition by the English-speaking translators. Now, there will be just one “collect” for every Sunday and solemnity, just as there has been for other feast days in the church. There will, however, continue to be multiple Collect choices for weddings, funerals and a few other types of celebration. Here is the Collect for the First Sunday of Advent: Grant your faithful, we pray, almighty God, We pray emphasizes humility; formality and theological precision are found in the expression righteous deeds; and run forth to meet your Christ injects a beautiful poetic and scriptural image into the prayer. The other thing you might notice in this prayer is the scarcity of periods which will (I hope) force priests to slow down and pray with the thoughtfulness and deliberate pacing worship demands. The second presidential prayer is the Prayer over the Offerings, formerly called the Prayer over the Gifts—a minor change, but an intentional one to emphasize the sacrificial aspect of the Eucharist. Here is that prayer for the Second Sunday of Advent: Be pleased, O Lord, with our humble prayers and offerings, I don’t think I have to point out all the elements of that prayer that emphasize humility in God’s presence. I suspect that, to some, this might seem to be an excess of humility. However, in a world where we mere mortals can sometimes harbor the illusion that we are—or should be—in control of our lives, there might be a great need to acknowledge the limits of our own power when we stand in the presence of the only One who is all-powerful. The third presidential prayer of the mass is the Prayer after Communion (no change in that title). Here is that prayer for the Fourth Sunday of Advent: Having received this pledge of eternal redemption, Worthy is a subtle indication of humility; Nativity is the proper theological name for Christmas; and press forward has poetic and scriptural power. Again, the entire prayer is one long sentence with lots of dependent clauses. We priests will have to work hard at praying with greater care and thoughtfulness. These, then, are examples of the style of language you’ll be hearing on the last weekend of November—the First Sunday of Advent, the beginning of a new liturgical year and the beginning of a new era in the Church in the English-speaking world. I hope we’ll all make an effort to let these prayers speak for us in a “language” that may not reflect our everyday vocabulary, but a language that strives to be worthy of expressing the awesome mystery we celebrate in Word and Eucharist.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN: THE COMMUNION & CONCLUDING RITES The Communion Rite portion of the Liturgy of the Eucharist begins with The Lord’s Prayer (one prayer that is not changing), and the prayers of the priest between here and the Sign of Peace will change only slightly. But when the priest greets you before the Sign of Peace, don’t forget that you respond as you have up to this point throughout the mass: And with your spirit. FOUR DAYS OF FUN, INDEED! Even a bit of Sunday rain couldn’t dampen the great spirit of this year’s Fisher Fest. We all owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the dedicated members of the committee who work, not only during the four days of the Fest, but for months beforehand and, in some cases, for weeks afterward. This year’s Fisher Fest included some terrific improvements, including Thursday Family Night, an added ticket booth convenient to the food vendors on Fairfield, and a higher music tent which made the already fantastic bands sound even better. However, if we want this annual iconic parish event to continue—and continue to improve—we need an infusion of new blood on the committee. Five long time committee members are moving into a well-deserved retirement, which means that we will need a new chairperson (or co-chairpersons) as well as talented, dedicated people to supervise money-counting and ticket distribution, manage all the required city permits, oversee the Fest finances, solicit and assist our food vendors, and handle graphic design and publicity. Five generous and busy people did all of that this year (and in some cases, for many years prior), but it might be possible for some responsibilities to be shared. It’s important to note that these jobs don’t require a lifetime commitment. They do require a commitment of time, energy, patience and cooperation. If you feel you would like to help turn this year’s Four Days of Fun into Fisher Fest 2012, talk to one of this year’s committee members or give me a call when I get back from vacation on October 12th. Again: a massive thank-you to this year’s committee and to all who supported Fisher Fest 2011. A NEW MASS TO LEARN - PART XIV: THE LITURGY OF THE EUCHARIST – PART III We’ve looked, so far, at some of the changes in the assembly’s prayers and at the small but significant changes for the priest-presider to be found in all the newly translated Eucharistic Prayers. Now, we’ll consider just a few of the beautiful & poetic, scripturally & theologically rich texts to be found in the two prayers you will probably be hearing most often in the months and years ahead: Eucharistic Prayers II and III. In the third article in this series (many months ago!), I pointed out that the original Latin translation of the mass commissioned by Vatican II contained extraordinarily rich imagery, significant scriptural allusions and profound theological insights. For a variety of reasons, much of that was lost on the journey from Latin to English. The newly revised New Roman Missal has taken that journey again and has endeavored to restore what was lost. To my mind and my ear—in most cases, though not all—it’s a job well done. Eucharistic Prayer II (hereafter EPII) is the shortest of all, but has its origin in some of the oldest liturgical texts available—from the 3rd and 4th centuries. At the very beginning of this prayer, we find words both beautiful and scriptural. Before, the priest prayed: Let your Spirit come upon these gifts to make them holy.... Now he will say: Make holy these gifts, we pray, by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall. Poetry? Absolutely—but also an evocative allusion to the Exodus moment when the starving Israelites woke in the morning to find bread from heaven, the mysterious manna, strewn like the dewfall all around their camps. Farther on, instead of praying that we be brought together in unity by the Holy Spirit, the priest prays that we may be gathered into one by the Holy Spirit. This is a subtle change, but again scriptural, reminding us of the parables of Jesus where the grain of the harvest is gathered into the heavenly barn or hearkening back to prophetic passages recalling grain gathered on the hillsides. And in the very next lines, we pray: Remember, Lord, your Church, spread throughout the world. The addition of just that one word expresses, in such an evocative way, both the universality and unity of the Church.In every Eucharistic Prayer, we remember those have died. Here, in EPII, we’ll pray for them in this way (with the important theological clarifications and scriptural allusions highlighted): Remember also our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection and all who have died in your mercy: welcome them into the light of your face. Fallen asleep is how we Christians are challenged to think of death. Recall Lazarus, when Jesus assures Martha and Mary that “he is only sleeping.” If we truly live in hope of the resurrection, death is nothing more than a very long slumber. Then, instead of presumptuously asking that all the departed be welcomed to heaven, we acknowledge that we are not God, and that only God’s mercy, genuinely desired and freely accepted, can bring any of us there. Finally, we reclaim an image that goes back all the way to the Book of Exodus when Moses comes face to face with God on Mount Sinai, an image that recurs throughout scripture, right up to the Transfiguration of Jesus and the visions of John in the Book of Revelation—the light of God’s face. That’s the vision that all of us who fall asleep in God’s mercy hope to behold for all eternity. Eucharistic Prayer III (EPIII) was an entirely new composition after Vatican II, but it also drew on a variety of ancient liturgical texts. At its beginning, we find two beautiful and significant changes in the prayers to which we’ve become accustomed. Previously, we addressed God in this way: Father, you are holy indeed, and all creation rightly gives you praise. All life, all holiness comes from you….by the working of the Holy Spirit. Now the prayer reads: You are indeed Holy, O Lord, and all you have created rightly gives you praise….by the power and working of the Holy Spirit, you give life to all things and make them holy. This new wording expresses more clearly the activity of God as Creator—all you have created verses all creation—and shines a brighter and wider light on the recipients of life and holiness, namely all things—not just us, but the entire created world. This section of EPIII continues with the addition of a strikingly poetic image that changes and dramatically expands the meaning of words that were already powerful, but ultimately limited. Where the priest-presider proclaimed that from east to west a perfect offering may be made to the glory of your name, we will now hear that from the rising of the sun to its setting a pure sacrifice may be offered to your name. East/west, rising/setting sun: what’s the difference? I always considered the original text particularly beautiful because it emphasized the universality of the sacrifice being offered—from east to west, from one end of the world to the other: everywhere, God is being praised. But praise from east to west isn’t meant to be merely geographical. Rather: from the rising of the sun to its setting…. Think about it: every moment of every day, the sun is either rising or setting somewhere in the world. The image is meant to be, not geographical, but temporal. God has created us and our world not simply to praise the Creator in every place, but always, in every moment of every day—endlessly and eternally! The last text we’ll look at in EPIII comes near the end. For over forty years we’ve been saying: Father, hear the prayers of the family you have gathered here before you. In mercy and love unite all your children wherever they may be. But now: Listen graciously to the prayers of this family whom you have summoned before you: in your compassion, O merciful Father, gather to yourself all your children scattered throughout the world. There are two important theological and poetic changes here. To acknowledge that God has summoned us to worship is a powerful statement, a reminder that it’s not merely a privilege but our duty to offer this pure sacrifice to God’s name. And when we ask God to gather…your children scattered throughout the world, we’re praying with a much greater certainty and clarity than are found in wherever they may be. God knows where those children are; God sent the Son into the world to gather what was scattered. There are many more changes in these and the other Eucharistic Prayers, far too many to consider unless I were to write even more that the eighteen articles I’ve planned in this series! As you begin to listen to these prayers on the weekend of November 26-27, please try to appreciate the imagery and poetry I’ve highlighted here. If there are things you don’t understand, words that sound odd or awkward, feel free to ask and I’ll do my best to share my understanding of this new mass we’ll all be praying for many years to come.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN - PART XIII: THE LITURGY OF THE EUCHARIST – PART II As I pointed out in the last installment of this series, there are relatively few changes in the prayers or responses of the assembly in the New Roman Missal translation for the Liturgy of the Eucharist. For the priest-presider, however, the changes are significant and the cadence of the new prayers will require both great attention and patient praying from now on. For priests of my generation, the effort most of us made to memorize all the Eucharistic Prayers will be lost as we contend with the need to keep our eyes glued to the page until we become comfortable—sooner, rather than later, I hope—with the new translations. The good new is that much of the language you’ll be hearing in these prayers is truly beautiful, poetic, and theologically rich. It might be good at this point to quickly revisit the reason for the introduction of this translation called the New Roman Missal. Yes, it is about being faithful to the original Latin texts commissioned by Vatican Council II, something all the language groups of the world have adhered to for several decades—except for the English-speaking world. But more importantly, this is a matter of being faithful to the most ancient liturgical texts available to modern scholars which is precisely what the Vatican II Latin texts attempted to replicate, and which we will now have an opportunity to learn and appreciate. Something most Catholics probably don’t even know is how many Eucharistic Prayers we have. Before Vatican II, there was just one, known as the Roman Canon. This was reworked by the scholars commissioned by the Council and three more were composed and added to the missal to give the priest-presider four choices when celebrating mass. These three new prayers were all based, to a greater or lesser degree, on liturgical texts dating back to the first centuries of Christianity. In 1975, two Eucharistic Prayers for Reconciliation were added, and some years later, the English-speaking bishops received permission to add three Eucharistic Prayers composed specifically for use in masses with children. The ones Catholics probably hear most often are Eucharistic Prayers II and III, with II being the “short” prayer. All except the prayers for children have been retranslated in a very substantial way, making it far too complicated to consider all of them here. In this article, I want to look at wording that will change in all the Eucharistic Prayers, some of which may sound a bit odd or even troubling. In the next article, I’ll point out just a few excerpts from Eucharistic Prayers II and II, focusing on some of the beautiful language we’ll be hearing and the lost scriptural allusions we’ll be recovering. In all the Eucharistic Prayers, the Institution Narrative or prayers of Consecration will see identical changes. One tiny word is added to the invitation Take this, all of you, and eat it; that new word is of: eat of it. This tiny addition emphasizes the sharing we experience in our communion with the Lord and with one another. A slightly longer, single word, accomplishes the same purpose in the next invitation: Take this, all of you, and drink from it: from being the added word here. Obviously, no one of us eats and drinks everything: we share; we become the Body of Christ together. One more small and understandable change is from everlasting to eternal: The Blood of the new and eternal covenant…. Everlasting could just be a very long time; eternal says quite clearly that God’s covenant is forever! Hopefully, those additions and changes will make sense to all of us. Two other changes, however, might be a bit problematic, and both are found in the words of Consecration relating to the wine—the cup. In fact, cup is the word that will disappear, to be replaced by chalice. Because we’ve become so accustomed to the more down-to-earth word cup, which seemed to enhance the family meal aspect of Eucharist, chalice might seem a bit stuffy. Who uses a chalice at dinner, even in the fanciest restaurant? But, while the Eucharist is indeed a “family meal,” it is also the most extraordinary meal we could ever hope share here on earth; it’s a foretaste and promise of the Paschal feast of heaven as one of our current Prefaces puts it. The very ritualistic Passover meal which became the Last Supper—and our Eucharist—would certainly have required all the best that its preparers could provide. As with so many of the new mass texts, this change from cup to chalice involves a Latin word that is now being translated precisely—calix—which is found throughout scripture to refer to a vessel for ceremonial use. In the end, it might help us to become more comfortable with chalice if we think about our own dinner tables at important celebrations. We may not have any chalices around, but doesn’t the Waterford get dusted off and placed proudly on the table? Are the “good china” and silver pulled out of their storage places? Chalice invites us to consider how exceptional is the meal we share at the “table” that we also call, very formally and significantly, the altar of sacrifice. The last change to be considered here involves, once again, just one word: This is the chalice of my Blood…which will be poured out for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins. The former word was all. This could be a particularly troubling change for many (no pun intended) because it might seem as if the “merits” of Jesus’ dying and rising are somehow being limited. Didn’t Jesus die for all? Yes, of course. The problem is that not all will respond to the grace poured out on the cross; not all will be forgiven who don’t recognize their need and accept forgiveness. Many, we hope, will, but sadly, not all. Again, there’s a focus on the Latin which translates literally as many. And there is the very clear assurance of Jesus in Mark 10:45: For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many. Of course, there’s also the classic ending to many of Jesus’ parables: Many are called but few are chosen. What Jesus desires for us is not always what we want or are willing to accept for ourselves. If all those Jesus came to save did indeed respond to his call, there would be no need for us to pray, day after day: Thy Kingdom come!
A NEW MASS TO LEARN - PART XII: THE LITURGY OF THE EUCHARIST – PART I The Liturgy of the Eucharist begins with the Preparation of the Table and Gifts, which, before Vatican II, was commonly known as the Offertory. The changes here amount to one added word for the assembly and an added phrase for the priest. But in terms of new words or responses to learn, from here through the end of the mass, the vast majority of changes in the New Roman Missal necessitate a learning curve for the priest-presider far more than for the assembly. Your challenge will be in listening and learning to appreciate the symbolism and poetry of the newly revised Prefaces and Eucharistic Prayers. That being said, there are three minor alterations and one significant change in the prayers of the assembly as we move into the great Eucharistic Prayer. The Eucharistic Prayer begins with a threefold exchange between the priest and the people called the Preface dialogue. What the priest-presider says will not change, but two of your responses will. The first change will be one we’ve already considered. In response to The Lord be with you, you will say And with your Spirit. When the priest extends the invitation Let us give thanks to the Lord our God, your response will be quite simple: It is right and just. This wording accomplishes three things: it’s a more precise translation of the Latin; it’s a simple declarative affirmation that avoids an unnecessary repetition of the priest’s invitation; and it eliminates the inappropriate masculine pronoun for God—It is right to give him thanks and praise. But there is also something wonderful that this last response of the Preface dialogue will accomplish. In the past, after this exchange of invitation and response between priest and people, the priest would launch into the preface in a way which made it seem as if there hadn’t been this powerful, inclusive dialogue drawing all of us into the great prayer of thanksgiving. After the response It is right to give him thanks and praise, every Preface began with the words Father, all-powerful and ever living God, we do well always and everywhere to give you thanks.... Now, after your response It is right and just, every Preface will begin with the words It is truly right and just—a clear acknowledgement that the priest has actually heard what you just said and is including everyone in the prayer that he alone speaks, but that all of us offer to God as one community of faith. As we move from the Preface to the Holy Holy, there will be just one small change. Instead of Lord, God of power and might, we will now say Lord, God of hosts. This reflects, as accurately as possible, a somewhat untranslatable Hebrew word that was retained in the original Latin text: Sabaoth. But, as with so many other changes in the New Roman Missal, this one also has theological and scriptural significance. The beginning of the Holy Holy derives from a passage in the Book of the prophet Isaiah, a vision of God’s power and glory. In that passage, it’s not a particular attribute of God—power or glory—that is being emphasized, but rather God’s dominion over all creation, even those dimensions of creation invisible to us: the hosts of heaven. In a very real sense, we’re joining our praise of God with that of all the angels and saints. This acclamation will still conclude with another scriptural allusion that is not changing—the praise of the crowds who welcomed Jesus to Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest! The major change in the assembly’s parts in the Eucharistic Prayer comes during what is called the Memorial Acclamation—The Mystery of Faith, which is precisely what the priest will now say to invite your response. Instead of Let us proclaim the Mystery of Faith, this new wording will parallel other simple, declarative statements found elsewhere in the mass: The Word of the Lord, The Body of Christ and so forth. The big change, however, will be found in your responses, one of which is completely new, while two others are significantly altered and a fourth has been eliminated entirely. The acclamation no longer in use will be Christ has died, Christ is risen…. The reason for dropping that one is simple: the other three responses we’ve been using for over forty years are addressed to Jesus while this one, though probably most familiar, is a statement, and that’s not what this particular acclamation is supposed to be. Now, there will be just three options for the assembly. The brand new one is: We proclaim your Death, O Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again. The first of the two that are slightly changed will be: Save us, Savior of the world, for by your Cross and Resurrection you have set us free, while the third change involves three words dropped and two added; you’ll pick that up right away. Following the Concluding Acclamation—the Great Amen—the portion of the Liturgy of the Eucharistic called The Communion Rite begins with The Lord’s Prayer. The scripturally significant changes we’ll find here come in the words of priest and people just before Communion. Instead of This is the Lamb of God, the priest will now say Behold the Lamb of God…. Why? Because that is what we hear John the Baptist exclaim in the gospel as he sees Jesus approaching him for baptism. Rather than Happy are those who are called to his supper, you will hear: Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb. Happy is one of those rather weak, ambiguous words that crept into the post-Vatican II English translation of the mass and even into some poor scripture translations. But in the New American Bible translation of the beatitudes in Matthew and Luke, we hear Jesus use blessed, not happy. And in the Book of Revelation, the supper—or wedding feast—of the Lamb is a powerful and poetic image that finds an echo here. The wording changes for the assembly come in the Lord I am not worthy response to the priest’s pre-communion invitation. The first change is again based on scripture: Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof. This is the famous profession of faith of the Roman Centurion who trusts in Jesus’ power to heal his servant even from a distance. For us, preparing to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, under my roof is an acknowledgement that communion is not just a matter of receiving Jesus, but of our need to have Jesus enter intimately into our lives, into our very souls. And that word soul now replaces I in our response: Only say the word and my soul shall be healed. The healing we need and seek goes beyond an egocentric surface, the I, to the very depths of our being where we enter into true communion with Jesus and with one another. There are huge changes to consider in the Eucharistic Prayers proclaimed by the priest-presider; we’ll take a look at just some of those in the next article in this series. Only five more to go….
A NEW MASS TO LEARN - PART XI: THE LITURGY OF THE WORD – PART II As we saw in the last part of this series, there are few changes in the New Roman Missal to be found in the proclamation of scripture portion of the Liturgy of the Word. The Profession of Faith or Creed, however, presents us with significant new language that will require a good deal of attention and understanding on the part of us all. In the previous article, I said we would look at just three more of these changes, but I realized that there are really five we should consider. Four of these textual changes have important theological and/or scriptural implications—though for most of us, those implications are going to be fairly subtle; the fifth reflects both good theology and poetic imagery. And throughout the Profession of Faith, I continues to replace we in recognition of our personal responsibility for both professing and living our faith. It might help us to appreciate these changes if we consider why this Profession of Faith, the Nicene Creed was composed in the first place. It was the work of one of the greatest Councils of the Church during a time in church history when heresies were rampant, especially ones concerning the true nature of Jesus and his relationship to the Father. Those who composed this Creed wanted to be sure that the language they used expressed as clearly and precisely as possible the most basic beliefs of the Christian community. That precision and clarity were essential in ensuring that the faith was passed on without error or ambiguity to future generations—to us! One of those “precise” words comes early on in the Creed and will probably be the most troublesome in the entire new translation. Where we previously proclaimed that Jesus is one in Being with the Father, we will now say consubstantial with the Father—a mouthful of a word if ever there was one. The choice of this rare word relates to those early church heresies I alluded to above. Whereas being could be considered a bit vague or merely existential, consubstantial, as weird as it sounds, conveys the message that Jesus and the Father are the same through and through—they share the same substance, not merely the same existence. Consubstantial truly is an unusual word, but it conveys a truly unique truth of faith about a unique person in our lives—Jesus, the Lord. The next change involves a word with which we’re more familiar, though one we’re not accustomed to using all that often. Where we have been saying that by the power of the Holy Spirit Jesus was born of the Virgin Mary, we will now profess that Jesus by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary. Both the old and new conclude with the words and became man. The reasons for this change are both scriptural and theological. In the great prologue of St. John’s gospel, we find the famous and profound statement that the Word became flesh—incarnation! Christmas is not really Jesus’ birthday (since he wasn’t even born on December 25th) but our celebration of the Incarnation—the eternal God taking on our finite flesh—a much bigger event that a birthday! And the theological point is even more important. Where the previous language implies that Jesus, by the (power of) Holy Spirit became man only when he was actually born of the Virgin Mary, incarnate affirms that the Spirit was at work from the first moment of Jesus’ conception; he became one of us in that miracle announced to Mary by the angel Gabriel which we find in Luke’s gospel: The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. This proclamation of the Incarnation is so central to our faith that, for the past eight years, the Church has asked all of us to make a profound bow when we profess that truth. This will be a good opportunity for us to recall and practice that beautiful and significant gesture of awe and gratitude. There are a few other minor changes in wording in the new Profession of Faith, but only two more merit a close look. Now, in the second to last sentence of the Creed, we acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins; at the end of November we will say I confess one baptism…. In this context, confess has nothing to do with sin or sorrow but instead reflects ancient formulas of Christian initiation. Confess is also a much stronger word. I can acknowledge that the sky is blue; but is that the best I can do when it comes to expressing my faith in the sacrament that first unites us with the Triune God and with one another? Finally, in the last sentence of the new Creed, comes a change that combines beautiful imagery with great theology. We have been saying that we look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. In light of what we will now be saying, it seems like we’ve been treating the resurrection and eternal life as if they were misplaced car keys! The new translation is filled with the joy and hope we should feel as people baptized into the dying and rising of Jesus Christ: I look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Amen. Amen indeed!
A NEW MASS TO LEARN - PART X: THE LITURGY OF THE WORD – PART I The Liturgy of the Word really begins when we sit down for the first time and the Lector approaches the ambo to proclaim the first scripture reading. The only changes during this proclamation time occur before the gospel. When the priest or deacon greets you with The Lord be with you, you reply here as elsewhere in the mass with And with your spirit. Then, when the gospel is announced, a simple O is added to your response: Glory to you O Lord. That’s it. However, all the readings contained in the Lectionary which provides our scripture passages for every mass are being retranslated right now, though the final product won’t be ready for many more years, and we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Probably the most challenging and extensive of all the changes for the assembly in the New Roman Missal will be found in the Profession of Faith or the Creed, so we need to consider those in some detail. The first of the changes hits us with the very first word of the Creed: I believe rather than We believe. Why? Isn’t this something we’re affirming together—the essential truths of our common faith? Yes and no. As with all the other parts and prayers of the mass, we are indeed saying the Profession of Faith together, but this particular part is unique and uniquely personal. The Latin original points us in the correct direction: Credo—I believe. But, as elsewhere in the new translation, it’s not just about being faithful to the Latin. The Profession of Faith at mass is meant to remind us of our baptismal promises and allow us to personally reaffirm those promises in a public forum each week of our lives. When a child is baptized and the parents and godparents are asked to profess their faith in the name of that child, the response is always in the first person singular: I do. When those same promises are renewed in the Sacrament of Confirmation, the response again is: I do. When we all renew the promises of baptism at the Easter Vigil or on Easter Sunday, again it’s I do. Although our faith is indeed shared with the entire Communion of Saints, no one else can claim that faith for us, nor can any one of us claim it for another. At baptism, parents and godparents speak for the child only because the child can’t speak for him or herself. Once we can speak for ourselves, we must: I believe! That I is repeated six times in our newly translated Profession of Faith. Wow! That was a long paragraph about just one tiny word. But it’s a great example of the amazing depth of meaning that we’re meant to discover in the prayers we say at mass, and one of the benefits of having this rare opportunity to learn more about those beautiful prayers and proclamations. But moving on through the Profession of Faith, we quickly find another example of theological clarity when, instead of speaking of God who is the maker…of all that is seen and unseen, we will now profess our faith in the God who is the maker…of all things visible and invisible. So what’s the difference between unseen and invisible? The subtle but significant point is that there are dimensions of creation that are not merely unseen by us as if they were hidden behind a curtain, but truly invisible to us—at least while we live in this world. Saints and angels would be examples. Although they may have appeared in human form in rare instances throughout history, their true spiritual form is really invisible to our human eyes. A few lines farther on in the Profession of Faith, we come to another small change that stems from a desire to be consistent with scriptural and liturgical tradition. When we profess our faith in Jesus, we will now say he is born of the Father before all ages instead of eternally begotten of the Father. Exactly the same truth, but the new phrasing matches one of the Prefaces for Christmas proclaiming that Christ is your Son before all ages, yet now he is born in time. This effort to use consistent phrasing throughout the mass in expressing theological truths is one driving force behind much of the new translation. So far in this article, I’ve covered less than one-third of the Profession of Faith. There are only three more significant changes that need to be considered; but those range from theologically complex to stunningly beautiful and deserve their own separate consideration which will be found in the bulletin two weeks from now—but sooner here, on the church website.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN - PART IX: THE INTRODUCTORY RITES When I completed the eighth installment in this series back in the spring, I promised that these articles would continue “in a few weeks.” I suppose that “few” can be understood in a variety of ways, but even for me, three months is considerably more than a few weeks! However, the delay was somewhat intentional, given the absence of so many parishioners during the summer months when St. Ann’s in Cassopolis probably has a fuller church on weekends than we do. But now that the school year has begun, it’s time for all of us to get down to work along with the kids in order to prepare ourselves for the liturgical changes that will begin the weekend of November 26-27. This and the next seven articles will explore the specific changes we’ll experience in the prayers of the mass—the revised text of the New Roman Missal— beginning on the First Sunday of Advent. Most Catholics know that the mass is divided into two basic parts: the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. But not everyone might realize that those two parts are subdivided into sections called “rites.” We might see the whole first part of the mass as the Liturgy of the Word, but that really doesn’t begin until the first reading is proclaimed. Prior to that, from the Gathering (or Entrance) Song to the Opening Prayer (or Collect) we are in the subdivision of the mass called The Introductory Rites. The purpose of these introductory rites is just what the title implies: to get us ready for what’s to come in Word and Eucharist and to help us move from the everyday world into the world of worship. Everything in this section, with the exception of the Sign of the Cross, will change to a greater or lesser extent. Except for The Lord be with you, all the presider greetings will be just a bit different. The fellowship of the Holy Spirit becomes the communion of the Holy Spirit—an exclusive masculine noun changing to the more inclusive and liturgically rich word communion. But the biggest change comes with the response of the assembly, both here and throughout the mass: And with your spirit, instead of And also with you. This change reflects the Latin text of both pre and post-Vatican II, et cum spiritu tuo, which every other language group in the world translated accurately after the Council—with the exception of the English-speaking Church. However, there’s a good and important reason for this correct translation; it’s not just about being faithful to a dead language. When the presider and assembly exchange that greeting throughout the mass, it isn’t the same as saying “how are you?” and “fine, how are you?” The language of liturgy is ritual language: there is a deeper, theological, and often scriptural meaning behind everything we say and pray at mass. (See Part VII in this series, Sacred Speech, for a more detailed reflection on this.) Priests who think it’s OK to be folksy and add their own “good mornings”, other “greetings” or who say “the Lord is with you” just don’t get it. The Lord be with you can’t be changed to a statement of fact, but must remain what it is meant to be: a wish, a hope, an expression of blessing, respect and empowerment. And the reply of the assembly is not addressed to the priest-presider as an individual, but in his office as animator of the assembly which he exercises by virtue of the Spirit conferred in the Sacrament of Holy Orders. We’re most definitely not just saying “hi” to each other! Following the Sign of the Cross and the Greeting, we begin what used to be called the Penitential Rite. However, since one “rite” in the middle of another “rite” doesn’t really make much sense, that part of the Introductory Rites now becomes the Penitential Act. There have always been three forms for this part of the mass, though we’re probably most accustomed to the one that contains three invocations by the priest or deacon followed by Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy. That format, known as Form Three, will not change, though the invocations will be slightly different. Form Two, which I don’t think we’ve ever used here, is a modified version of Form Three, and might be worth learning. However, the Confiteor known as Form One, which we’ve used for some time now during Lent, will change dramatically, but I’ll save a reflection on that for next Lent. The most extensive changes in the Introductory Rites come in the Glory to God. These will impact our choirs and leaders of song more than the entire assembly, since all the versions of the Glory to God we use here at SJF provide a refrain for all of us to sing, while the choir or leaders of song sing the bulk of the text. Even so, the common refrain for us will change from Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on earth to Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace to people of good will. Why the change? Go to Luke 2:14 (in the New American Bible) and read the announcement of the angels to the shepherds recorded there. This is one of many instances in the New Roman Missal where an effort is made to reflect the corresponding scripture passages from which so many of our mass prayers are derived. Other changes in the Glory to God reflect, not only an accurate translation of the Vatican II Latin original text, but an effort to be more theologically precise. For example, only Son of the Father becomes Only Begotten Son…Son of the Father, emphasizing both the unique humanity (Only Begotten) and the divinity of Jesus (Son of the Father). The opening section also restores a litany of praise that became lost in the previous translation. Instead of we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory, we now have we praise you, we bless you, we glorify you, we give you thanks for your great glory—a small change, but certainly more poetic. The final element of the Introductory Rites is the Opening Prayer. The traditional name for this prayer, the Collect, expresses what this first “presidential prayer” of the mass is meant to do: “collect” the needs of the universal Church at this moment in the liturgical year and offer them to God as this local Church begins our time of worship together. In the current Sacramentary, the priest has had two choices for this prayer, but only one will remain in the New Roman Missal. Finally, I want to be sure to answer the obvious question: how will we remember all this? You won’t have to; but you’ll have to do a lot more reading—though not as much as we priests! We’ll be ordering laminated pew cards (in large print) that will help you follow and get used to the new translations. Hopefully, just as in the years after Vatican II, we’ll commit these new prayers to memory sooner or later and pray them with even greater understanding and spirit as the years go by.
WANTED: A FEW GOOD MEN AND WOMEN For many years now, we’ve had a generous group of men and women offering their services at daily morning mass as Lectors and Sacristans. However, in the past year or so, mobility issues and illness have sidelined some of those who had helped so generously in the past. Now, we are in need of a new generation with the time and energy to help read the scriptures, prepare for morning mass, and clean up afterwards. Here are the job descriptions:
Of course, we can always use more help with both these ministries at weekend masses, and we are always in need of more Eucharistic Ministers, Ministers of Hospitality and Ushers on the weekend. If you feel that you could spare the time and share your gifts, especially at weekday masses, give me a call.
When I came to St. Bride as pastor in 1992, one of the first things I noticed when I celebrated my first mass there was the clock hanging from the front of the church choir loft. I’m not quite sure why it was there since the parishioners had their backs to it and only the priest and the altar servers could see it easily. Was there a time in the past when the priests were supposed to check it to ensure that they weren’t preaching too long? I don’t know. What I do know is that I made sure it never went back up when we renovated the church a few years later. I’ve seen clocks in other churches; I seem to recall that St. Bernadette had one hanging from their choir loft when I was there back in the ‘70’s. But I’ve never understood the reason for having a clock inside a church. Outside is fine; clocks are quite common on church steeples, going all the way back to the Middle Ages when that was the only way most people could learn the exact time. But, when we enter into the presence of God, we enter God’s time, sacred time, and clocks have no place in that world. One of the questions some people have asked about the revised English translation of the New Roman Missal is “will it make the mass longer?” The short answer is “yes”—probably by about two or three minutes. That slightly longer duration will be due to the more poetic language of the texts as well as to the sentence structure of the Eucharistic Prayers which will require priests to pray more slowly and deliberately. So, is that a bad thing that mass will be a few minutes longer? I certainly hope not! There’s no question that modern life is busier and more complicated than ever before. But why? In many cases the busyness of life is a product of the choices we make. Our society clearly values doing over being, and so there’s a subtle pressure on us all to fill our lives with activities that we think will make life richer or more meaningful. But if we’re honest with ourselves, isn’t it true that the busyness often tends to diminish rather than enhance the quality of life? Although we certainly do many things in liturgy—pray in word and song, listen, sit, stand, kneel, process—the mass is really more about being than doing. Our weekly time of worship challenges us to forget about the passing of time and be present to each and every moment in which our God encounters us through the liturgies of Word and Eucharist. The new words we’ll begin to pray in November can provide us with an opportunity to take another look at the way we approach our time together at mass. Is it possible to make a greater effort to arrive on time, if not a few minutes early? Is there really any reason (other than getting to one’s job) for life to be so tightly scheduled that it’s not possible to stay until the real end of mass—the last verse of the recessional song? It truly amazes me that, whether mass is over in fifty minutes or one hour, the same people leave at the same time—during or right after communion. Is that just a bad habit or is it a matter of claiming a few extra minutes to get on with the “busyness” of life? But, please understand: even though I’m not a parent, I truly appreciate how challenging it must be to get three, four or even five kids out of the house for any reason; so I’m truly grateful that so many families make a valiant effort to be here week after week—on time or not. Consider this: someday, we all hope to enter into eternal life with the God who will call us home. A good way to become more comfortable with our sacred time at mass might be to reflect on that eternal dimension of life in God’s Kingdom. Once we enter into eternity, time will cease—no more minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, centuries, millennia—just endless being in the embrace of our loving God. The time we spend together in prayer each Saturday or Sunday is, in a way, meant to be a rehearsal for eternity. For those who can’t handle one hour a week of sacred time in this world, eternity is going to be a real challenge! (This series will continue in the Sunday bulletin and here on the website in a few weeks.)
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – SACRED SPEECH - Part Seven There was an item in the news not too long ago about the many translations of the Bible available to Christians. One biblical scholar, commenting on the merits of the different translations, expressed his unqualified preference for the King James Version, the classic Protestant version from the 17th century. He pointed to the poetic elegance and “loftiness” of the language as reasons for his preference. It’s been well over forty years since the “thees” and “thous” of that classic biblical text disappeared from Catholic worship (with the exception of The Lord’s Prayer). But have no fear; that kind of “lofty” language isn’t returning to worship with the revised English translation of the New Roman Missal. However, the prayers we will hear and say at mass beginning this November will invite us to reclaim a spirit of sacred speech which may, at first, sound a bit awkward to our 21st century American ears, and will challenge us to appreciate the place of “poetic elegance” in our common prayer. The problem for us is that contemporary speech has, in many cases, lost an appreciation of an appropriate distinction between formal and informal. Can anyone imagine John F. Kennedy addressing a campaign crowd or reporters at a press conference as “you guys?” Yet, it’s quite common today. When my mother was alive and still able to go out to dinner, it would drive me nuts when a server came to our table and asked “are you guys ready to order?” I wanted to scream at him or her (but never did): “My mother is ninety years old; she’s not a guy!” That all-too-common expression is just one example of how casual our speech has become in the last forty years and how clueless many people can be when it comes to adapting their speech to a particular circumstance. The “particular circumstance” of worship demands a different form of speech—not merely formal, but sacred. The very worthy goal of English translators after Vatican II was to make the language of worship more accessible to contemporary speakers, and they accomplished that, in most cases, quite effectively. But in doing so, they lost three things: poetry, theological precision and biblical allusion. All those elements are found in the Latin original, which took its inspiration from some of the earliest Greek texts created in the first centuries of the Church. The revised English translation of the New Roman Missal reclaims a great deal of that sacred language. In essence, we’re invited to recognize that the way we speak to God and to one another at mass should be different from the way we speak in everyday life. Here is one example. Now, when the priest greets you with The Lord be with you, you reply: And also with you. The Latin, however, is Et cum spiritu tuo which translates And with your spirit. That will be your response come November. There are several reasons why that more precise translation is important. First, it’s not so much the Latin that matters, but the fact that the Latin is a direct reference to forms of greeting in St. Paul’s letters. Second, the priest is not being addressed as an individual but in his office as animator of the assembly’s prayer which he exercises because of the Spirit he received in the sacrament of Holy Orders. Priest and people aren’t just saying “hi” to each other; we’re establishing a very particular sacred relationship based on scripture and theology. Another example that involves poetry, biblical references and theological precision will be found in Eucharistic Prayer III. Now, near the beginning, the priest prays: From age to age you gather a people to yourself, so that from east to west a perfect offering may be made to the glory of your name. In the new translation you’ll hear: ....and you never cease to gather a people to yourself, so that from the rising of the sun to its setting a pure sacrifice may be offered to your name. In the current translation, the meaning seems merely geographical—east to west. But the original Latin text poetically expresses a measure of time we can all appreciate—sunrise to sunset. We pray that our pure sacrifice will be offered, not merely from one end of our world to another, but constantly, since the sun is always rising and setting somewhere on this earth. And the biblical allusion is a powerful one, going back to the very first verses of Scripture as the days of creation are recounted: Evening came, and morning followed…. I could go on and on relating the examples of sacred speech in the new translation. Most are exquisitely beautiful; some will seem exceedingly odd and awkward. I’ll write more about all of those later in the year, and there will be opportunities to hear and learn more about all the prayers of the New Roman Missal this Fall in an adult formation series and in mini-sessions after weekend masses. But next, we need to consider what it means for us to gather in sacred time.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – SACRED SPACE - Part Six Way back when, in the Old Testament book of Exodus, Moses finds himself in the desert, gazing at that famous burning bush and hearing the voice of God commanding him: “Come no nearer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.” Even there, in the barren waste, a sense of sacred space could be seen and felt. But more importantly perhaps, the message that one had to behave differently—and even dress differently—in the presence of the sacred was communicated in that life-changing encounter between Moses and the Lord. As I pointed out last week, ordinary places—like a spot in the desert or the corner of a park—can become sacred because of what we do or experience there. Other places are, by their very nature, sacred. Churches, mosques and synagogues are the obvious examples. But other places, too, evoke a sense of the sacred and demand different behavior from those who enter in. Cemeteries come to mind. Think of Lincoln’s tomb: as you enter deeper into that mausoleum, you can’t help but be overcome by a sense of awe. Voices become hushed or silent and a deep reverence overtakes those who, until then, have been just tourists. At least it was like that a decade ago; I hope it still is. We call our own sacred space here at St. John Fisher the church. It really takes its name from us: it is the place where we, the Church, gather to give praise and thanks to God. It is a sacred place because of what we do there; but it is sacred space even before we arrive and remains sacred when we leave. So now the question I raised last week has to be addressed: how do we behave in that sacred place? How do we, as members of a very casual society, respond and adapt to a sacred environment? The more formal language we will begin to use this coming November in the English translation of the New Roman Missal can help us reclaim some of the attitudes that sacred space and speech and time demand. However, one thing we don’t need is a return to a pre-Vatican II mentality about church. Too much formality creates a disconnect between worship and everyday life, and we can be grateful that things like communion rails no longer separate the People of God from the sanctuary where only the ordained and the altar boys once entered in. On the other hand, too little formality can make our worship just one more activity in a busy week, so that the boundaries between the ball park, the Jewel, the gym and the church become blurred. So, first: what do we leave behind when we enter into sacred space? Gum chewing, coffee and water bottles to name a few. Sure, little kids might need their Cheerios to keep them happy and quiet, but we adults should be able to last for an hour without hydrating or feeding our faces. We also leave behind our gym and ball park voices and trade them for the indoor voices most parents teach their kids to use at home. Now that doesn’t mean silence. Church is a place where we who are the Church not only pray but also share the stories of the week, the joys and challenges of life that are part and parcel of our prayer. The time we spend after mass sharing those stories with friends and neighbors can only strengthen the bonds that bring us together in our sacred space. When we come to church, it would also be nice if we left behind the sweats and tank tops and reclaimed just a bit of that “Sunday best” from time to time. And it would be truly wonderful if all parents reminded their little ones (and sometimes their bigger ones, too) that the church is not a playground. It’s great that our kids feel comfortable and at home in the church; but they, too, need to learn, as soon as they can understand, that some places are really special, and no place is more special than church. So, if we leave all that behind, what do we bring with us into our sacred space? We bring a sense of reverence, of course—not a reverential fear and trembling, but an awareness that we really are stepping onto “holy ground”, entering into a place like nowhere else. We bring, I hope, an expectation that something wonderful is about to happen, that an intimate encounter with the God who loves us is waiting behind those church doors. If we translate that into one of the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit, I would say that we should bring with us a sense of “wonder and awe” because we are about to enter into the amazing presence of a God who is both immanent and transcendent—closer than we could ever imagine, yet so far beyond our capacity to ever fully understand, at least while we’re in this world. Our time in this sacred space is not going to be a perfect experience. There will be crying kids and other distractions, including the worries we brought with us and the challenges that await us when we return home. But for that one hour or so, we have a chance to claim a bit of peace, to seek some extra strength, to be embraced by beauty, and to remember all the reasons we have to be a truly thankful people. If we return to the days of Moses, toward the end of the book of Exodus, we find the Israelites completing the “dwelling” place for the Ark of the Covenant—literally the dwelling place of God. But we learn that, when “the glory of the Lord filled the Dwelling”, even Moses couldn’t enter; the place was too sacred even for him. How fortunate we are! God’s glory fills our dwelling, our church, and we are able to set foot on that holy ground. We are invited to enter into our sacred space and bask in the awesome presence of our Creator. We hear God’s Word and share in the gift of Jesus’ own life poured out for us in the Eucharist. In the gospel on Lent’s second Sunday we heard Peter say to Jesus, “Lord, it is good that we are here!” Those words should be in our hearts, if not on our lips, each time we enter our own sacred space.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – A SENSE OF THE SACRED - Part Five It probably goes without saying that we live in a rather casual society. When I started going to the opera over forty years ago it would have been unthinkable for a man to show up in anything but a suit and tie—well, maybe a turtleneck in those days. Now, suits and ties are the exception rather than the rule. A few of us, however, maintain that traditional sense of formality, and I think there’s a value in that. The Civic Opera House is simply not the Cell. The same “sense of place” also applied to church when many of us “of a certain age” were growing up. Dresses & hats, suits & ties—one’s “Sunday best”—were expected and accepted as the norm. Sometimes, to be sure, the expectation was a bit silly when, for example, my mother would decide to stop in church for a “visit” on her way home from work only to realize she had no head covering. The solution, of course, was a hankie or even a kleenex, bobby-pinned to her hair. But even that somewhat silly solution revealed a deep awareness that entering into the sacred space of the church demanded something different, something special; the church was a place like nowhere else. Today, that’s not always the case. One of the values the English translation of the New Roman Missal can help us reclaim is a sense of the sacred: sacred space, sacred speech, sacred time. The church is a place like nowhere else. Worship is different from anything else we do in life. If we approach the mass as we would a movie or a ball game, something is missing, something is very wrong. It’s simply a fact that liturgy has its own unique requirements in terms of space and speech and time, and the language of the new translation we’ll begin using in November invites us to recognize and reclaim the sacred essence of the liturgy. In this, and in the next two or three articles in this year-long series, I want to consider what the sacred demands of us in those three dimensions of space, speech and time. So, what makes a particular place sacred? Sometimes, our own actions can make an ordinary space sacred. Munroe Park is most definitely not a sacred place on Friday or Saturday nights in the summer! But when we have our August picnic mass there, our common prayer transforms it into a sacred space. A church, however, is sacred space even before we arrive. It is consecrated—not simply blessed—to be a place of worship. Its sacredness is activated, if you will, by our presence and prayerful activity; but even when we aren’t present there as a worshipping community, the Blessed Sacrament is present along with all the other sacred objects and images which surround and support our prayer. Once we recognize a place as sacred, the question arises: “how do we behave in that space?” We’ll consider the possible answers to that question in the next article. In the meantime, remember that you have another opportunity (a repeat of the session last month) to learn more about the English translation of the New Roman Missal on Sunday, April 3rd at 1:15p.m. in church.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – LATIN TO ENGLISH - Part Four Something that some Catholics complain about from time to time is the perception that Church leadership, particularly the Pope and bishops, treat the members of the Church like children, failing to respect the laity as intelligent, capable people. It’s true that pronouncements from “on high” can sometimes come across that way, but the preparation of the English translation of the New Roman Missal—which we’ll begin to pray this coming November—is not one of those times. In fact, it turns out that the post-Vatican II “progressive” bishops were the ones who chose to treat us a bit like children as they directed the preparation of the 1969 Latin to English translation of the mass with which we’ve been familiar for over forty years. When the English-speaking Bishops’ conferences of the world created ICEL, the International Commission on English in the Liturgy, they gave them this mandate: translate the new (Latin) mass of Vatican II into English texts that could be understood by people of little education or by children (emphasis mine). In colloquial terms, it might be fair to say that the bishops told the commission to “dumb it down” for us poor, theologically unsophisticated Catholics. Rather than giving the laity of the Church credit for being able to understand, appreciate and learn a new mass that contained some very rich poetry and profound theological expressions, the bishops requested a watered-down translation of the new Latin texts. Now remember that those new prayers for the mass were derived from some of the oldest liturgical texts—mostly in Greek—dating back as far as the third century. The Fathers of Vatican II really wanted the Church to scrape away the barnacles of centuries—including some of the Latin ones—and restore to us the rich poetic images which those early Christian communities experienced in their common prayer just a few centuries after Jesus’ ministry. Unfortunately, the English-speaking bishops apparently didn’t think we could handle that. The New Roman Missal, then, doesn’t need to be seen as an attempt to make us more Roman or the first step on a road back to praying in Latin. Hopefully, it is a step forward in terms of the Bishops’ respect for our ability—as I said above—to understand, appreciate and learn prayers for the mass that are poetically and theologically rich. It is true that some of the words and expressions we’ll be using might sound a bit odd or stilted, e.g. “And with your spirit,” rather than “And also with you,” “oblation” in place of “sacrifice” or “consubstantial” instead of “one in being” with the Father. What we’ll need to learn and remember is that there are some good theological reasons for those changes as well as some good poetic reasons for the re-translated Eucharistic and presidential prayers prayed by the priest-presider. So how are we to “learn and remember” all of this? Sometime next month, I’ll be preaching at all of the weekend masses and repeating some of the things I’ve been writing about here in the bulletin. Then, on Wednesday, March 2nd at 7:00p.m., or Sunday, April 3rd after the noon mass, you’ll be invited to gather in church for about an hour to hear some of these new prayers and to ask questions. That should give us a good start on the liturgical journey we’ll be taking together over the next ten months.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – LATIN, ROMAN: WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL? - Part Three As we prepare to introduce the English translation of the New Roman Missal this coming November, some people seem to delight in getting bent out of shape over those two words in the above title: Latin and Roman. If some of those people would just take the time to understand both the history and the process leading up to this “new” translation, maybe, just maybe, they’d be a little less troubled. First, perhaps, we should look at the book we use now: the Sacramentary. I honestly don’t know who decided on that name after Vatican II, but it does make sense. The red book that you see the priest use (and an altar server hold) during mass contains the prayers used at every mass, including the prayers that are said at mass for other sacraments celebrated in the context of the Eucharist such as Confirmation, the Anointing of the Sick, Matrimony, etc.; so Sacramentary makes sense. But so does Missal, which is defined as—big surprise—“the book containing the prayers used at mass.” If you’re my age or older, that word should also be a familiar one, since it wasn’t uncommon for many of us to carry a missal to church so we could understand the prayers the priest was praying in Latin. So missal shouldn’t cause any consternation among today’s Catholics. But what about Roman? That, too, shouldn’t exactly be a game-changer. We are, after all, members of the Roman Catholic Church. Roman doesn’t make us residents of Rome or citizens of Italy, but simply identifies the rite, the ritual by which we celebrate the sacraments, particularly the mass. Whatever one may think of the seamier side of Church history, including the “bad” Popes (far too many of them) or the Inquisition, it’s hard to imagine the survival of the Church without the Edict of Constantine in the fourth century which legitimized Christianity in the Roman Empire, falling just short of making it a state religion. In many ways, the Catholic Church owes its survival, strength and universal expansion to the organizational ability of Rome. So, for better or worse, depending on your point of view, Roman Catholic is what we are, and we are connected inseparably to the universal Church headquartered in Rome, with the Pope as our leader. Yes, we are American Catholics, but that doesn’t mean we’re free to make up our own rules or do things our own way; we’re part of something bigger. Finally then, there’s Latin. This is probably the most problematic word for contemporary Catholics and I, admittedly, was one of them. That is until I heard Fr. Jan Michael Joncas, the post-Vatican II theologian and musical composer, explain the process by which the mass in English, with which we’ve been familiar for over forty years, was created. The sad fact is, although I was in the seminary during the twelve years immediately after Vatican II—1965 thru 1977—we were taught almost nothing about the development of the mass during that time. One of the key facts I never knew was that the Fathers of the Council, in creating a new mass for the Church, didn’t just re-translate the pre-Council Latin mass or go back to the Tridentine mass of the 16th century. They gathered liturgical experts from around the world and went back to the most ancient mass texts they could find—mostly in Greek—as far back as the third century, to create a new liturgy that would be as faithful as possible to the original prayers of some of the earliest Christian communities. That was a brilliant and revolutionary thing to do. Those international experts worked in a language they could all understand—Latin—and created the prayers of the mass in that same language with the understanding that Bishops’ conferences around the world would then undertake the translation of the Latin mass into the vernacular of their communities. And so it came to pass (sorry, couldn’t resist that) that the English-speaking bishops of the world created a committee called ICEL, the International Commission on English in the Liturgy, a group of scholars charged with the task of translating the new Latin mass into English for all the English-speaking Catholics of the world, from here to Ireland to Australia. Sounds like a great idea, right? Well, you may be as shocked as I was when I tell you how the bishops instructed those scholars to translate the Latin prayers into English. But that’s for the next article, so don’t miss it.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – THE WORK OF LITURGY - Part Two We’re already two weeks into a new calendar year, but more than six weeks into the new liturgical year—the last such year of praying the mass in exactly the same way we’ve prayed it for over forty years. As I explained last month and as you’ve probably heard from other sources, the new English translation of the New Roman Missal will be introduced on the First Sunday of Advent: November 27, 2011. Now this new translation won’t just be dumped into our laps on that day as if we were all non-swimmers being thrown into the water and told to start paddling if we don’t want to drown. The intention of the U.S. Bishops is that, in the weeks and months before November 27th, pastors will take seriously their responsibility to teach and parishioners will take seriously their opportunity to learn about these changes in the mass. These periodic articles will be coupled with occasional homilies and multiple opportunities to gather in church—outside of an actual mass—over the next ten months so that we can work together to understand and learn the newly translated prayers for Word and Eucharist. I suppose the operative word in that last sentence is “work” and that word may give rise to the question, “why should we have to work at praying?” Well, there’s a fairly good answer to that question. The meaning of the word liturgy has a somewhat complicated origin in Greek, but it has been loosely translated—at least since Vatican II—as “the work of the people.” I always remember the great Chicago liturgical author and teacher Gabe Huck proclaiming that we should all be very tired after celebrating mass because we have worked so hard at praying well together! Now admittedly, one thing we all need when we come to mass is a brief respite from the busyness of everyday life as well as a spiritual boost to energize us for the coming week. However, it’s also true that we come together in church, as Church, not just to get something but to give something—namely ourselves, given in love to the God who created us in love, who redeemed us through Jesus and who continues to sanctify us through the power of the Spirit. The liturgy, the work of worship deserves, in the words of the U.S. Bishops many years ago, our “full, conscious and active participation.” But let’s be honest: how often do we pray the prayers and recite the responses of the mass without giving a whole lot of thought to the deepest truths of what we’re saying? As a presider, I have to push myself over and over again to ponder the prayers I say and do the best I can to make them fresh and alive for both myself and for you. The introduction of the New Roman Missal gives us a rare and wonderful opportunity to refresh our appreciation of the work we’re called to do each week and to deepen our understanding of the truths we proclaim—perhaps somewhat thoughtlessly and casually at times—in the presence of our loving and awesome God.
A NEW MASS TO LEARN – ONE YEAR AND COUNTING - Part One One year from now, on the First Sunday of Advent in 2011, Catholic Churches throughout the English-speaking world will begin to use a new translation of the mass called the New Roman Missal. Beginning today and continuing periodically for the next year, I’ll be writing about this challenging opportunity being presented to all of us, an opportunity to look more deeply into the prayers many of us have been saying together for over forty years—some of us, for our entire lives. What we will experience a year from now began in 1963 during Vatican Council II when a commission of English-speaking bishops from around the world gathered to begin what would be a ten-year process of translating the “new” liturgy from Latin into English. Now, if you’re old enough to remember, we were celebrating mass in English several years before the publication of the official 1973 Roman Missal (or Sacramentary—the red book you see the priest using at mass), but with what was merely a provisional text. For the next twenty-four years, the Sacramentary would be revised or amended five times, though most of us would have been unaware of the additions or subtle changes contained in those new editions. But by the time the last edition of the Roman Missal was published in 1997, the Church’s Congregation for Divine Worship in Rome had already begun a re-evaluation of the principles for translation of the Missal from Latin to the vernacular. Those new guidelines were published in 2001 and required the Conferences of Bishops throughout the world, in every language group, to essentially “go back to the drawing board” and re-translate the Latin Roman Missal into the languages used by their local Churches. That re-translation was finalized and approved within the last year and all the local Churches in all the countries of the English-speaking world were charged with establishing a timetable for introducing this New Roman Missal to their communities. Now, lots of questions can arise when we consider all of this. What’s the big deal with Latin? Why “Roman Missal?” What are these “new principles of translation” and what was wrong with the original principles? Why are we “fixing” what doesn’t seem to be broken? How much are we going to have to learn? How are going to learn it? Those are all good and legitimate questions, and they’re just some of the questions I’ll be addressing in the bulletin and on the Church website over the next year. I won’t try to convince you that this will be easy—though it’s going to be much harder for priests who will have to learn about ten times as much as will members of the assembly. However, I will try to convince you that this is important and ultimately worthwhile for our growth in faith and common prayer. I was skeptical about all of it until I, along with over 1,000 other priests, had the privilege of hearing the priest-scholar-composer Jan Michael Joncas delve into the history of liturgical translation and unfold the poetic beauty and theological richness of the new mass texts. I don’t have his knowledge or communication skills, but I’ll do my best to share all of that with you in the coming year.
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