Remembrances of things past

There are two big mistakes that one can make when looking to the past: one, that everything was terrible back then but is hunky dory now; and two: Everything sucks now, and was so much better back then.  In truth, they had their strengths and weaknesses, and so do we.

Rorate has the story of Bishop Robert Lynch, who has appeared to either have forgotten or never learned that lesson.  The Bishop has bad memories of the TLM, or Tridentine, or Extraordinary Form, and he believes his memories were the universal case. Among the many things he points out as wrong with the old mass was the bad music.

My personal memory of the liturgy prior to Vatican II is an awful one. I remember the daily Requiem Masses screeched by the eighth grade girls of St. Charles Borromeo parish in Peru, Indiana, mandatory prior to the start of every school day, and even with their screeching, the Mass gratefully only lasted about twenty minutes...Adult choirs attempting Mozart were only slightly better in most churches than the eighth grade girls at St. Charles.

The implication seems to be that now the music is just soooo much better.

I have heard arguments like this from time to time, wherein older people reminisce about the old Mass and how badly it was done, or they act like every Mass said back then was a Tridentine Speed Mass with crappy chant.  Well, two can play at that game. Rorate has invited readers to share their memories of the Ordinary Form, or Novus Ordo.  I can play that game:  I grew up in the seventies, and since I am interested in music, and since the bishop is interested in music, let's talk music.  The screeching girls have been replaced by folk choirs, with guitarists who play three chords, maybe, wave tambourines around, and sing wildly out of tune the music of Haugen, Haas et al.  Actually, strange as it may sound, Haugen Haas and Schutte are an improvement over the drivel of the seventies.  I remember well hearing "His Peace is flowing like a river", (properly sung with tears flowing down your cheeks) "They'll know we are Christians By Our Love" and a hundred other 'hymns' I have struggled long and hard to forget.

The response is just too easy, and I don't want to go too far into this.  When it comes to music, the proper response to good music being sung badly is to try and get the singers to improve, or get better singers altogether, not replace the good music with music so bad that poor singing will make no difference.

Repost: Once there was a time...

(Just bringing up an old post.  I linked to it in the combox over at New Liturgical Movement a week or two ago, and it became my new most popular post, so I thought I'd resurrect it here.)

I  told this story at dinner the other night. The family liked it, and Puff told me I should write it out on the blog. Like most of my best stories, it isn't my story at all, but my father's, and like many of his best stories, it's from the war.

Dad was at or near the front lines in Italy one day when an officer came down the line. "Any Catholics here," he began. "There's a priest about to say Mass in the next field." Dad took his helmet and rifle and headed over to the next field, as did several other Catholics.

He was appalled when he arrived. The field was wide open, easily visible from the German positions, and exposed to any kind of enemy fire. The men immediately looked for a hill, a shell hole, a rock, a furrow- anything that might give them any sort of cover. Meanwhile, in the middle of the field stood the priest, carefully setting up his Mass kit on a big rock, taking his time and doing it properly, appearing as if he had no concern in the world other than this, and going about it as if he were in a parish back home, and there was no war to trouble anyone or anything.

If there was ever a time for a Tridentine speed Mass, this could have been it. But, to Dad's horror, (and he knew, because he used to be an altar boy at a Cathedral) the priest said the Mass slowly and carefully, doing every movement as prescribed, omitting no prayer, while gunfire raged around them.

At last the priest turned, holding the consecrated host. "Come to Communion!" he shouted out to the men hiding in the field. "I grant you all full absolution. Come!"

Dad's reaction was: "He's got to be kidding." But then he saw it: the soldiers making their way forward to receive communion. Granted, they approached the priest at a dead run, and left at a dead run as soon as it was received. But still they came. Dad, emboldened by the other men, came forward himself, received, thanked God, and raced away.

He stayed in his furrow watching as the priest put away his Mass kit as properly as he set it out, and, when finished and having said his final prayers, the priest snapped his case shut and walked away.

That's the story. Not the best punch line, but the family liked it. I like it for it reminds of a good man I once knew and shall never see again in the flesh. It reminds me that there were other good men like him, once upon a time. Men who believed there were things to stand for, things to fight for, things that were worth risking your life for. And on that list of things worth risking your life over was Mass, and the chance for Communion.

The best statement I have read on Universae Ecclesiae yet

While doing some research for a future post, I dropped by the website of St Mary's parish in Norwalk Connecticut.  The pastor there, Father Greg J Markey, has written for his "from the pastor" column of the website the best  statement I have yet seen on Universae Ecclsiae.  I reproduce it here without comment, as I believe it speaks for itself.

This past Friday, May 13, 2011 (Our Lady of Fatima), the Pontifical Commission Ecclesia Dei released the Instruction Universae Ecclesiae (To the Universal Church), "on the application of the Apostolic Letter Summorum Pontificum." Summorum Pontificum was Pope Benedict XVI’s 2007 motu proprio which, as the Instruction states, “made the richness of the Roman Liturgy more accessible to the Universal Church” (1).

The implementation of Summorum Pontificum in continuity with the Second Vatican Council has been a defining part of my time here as pastor at St. Mary Church and it is worth reflecting on this new Instruction in light of our experience.

In reading Universae Ecclesiae, I cannot help but think that we here at St. Mary Church are implementing the Holy Father’s liturgical vision. The heart of the Instruction states: “The Roman Missal promulgated by Pope Paul VI and the last edition prepared under Pope John XXIII, are two forms of the Roman Liturgy, defined respectively as ordinaria and extraordinaria: they are two usages of the one Roman Rite, one alongside the other. Both are the expression of the same lex orandi of the Church. On account of its venerable and ancient use, the forma extraordinaria is to be maintained with appropriate honor” (6).

Where is this liturgical vision being carried out in the Catholic Church today? There are many parishes that will avoid any positive reference to the extraordinary form. There are also a small number of parishes, most of which are run by religious orders, that will do the extraordinary form exclusively, without the ordinary form. There are parishes that do both the ordinary and extraordinary forms, but where the extraordinary form is a fringe element, handled by an external group of priests at odd Mass times. Who, then, is going to bring the extraordinary form and ordinary form together in one parish, “alongside one another”? By the grace of God, St. Mary Church in Norwalk is doing just this.

The Instruction goes on to say that the extraordinary form is to be “considered a treasure to be preserved” (8, a) and that the bishop is “to ensure respect for the forma extraordinaria of the Roman Rite” (13). Therefore, those who feel a certain hostility toward the Traditional Latin Mass need to examine their consciences as to whether they are thinking with the mind and heart of the Church, or whether more secular models of Catholicism have seeped into their thinking.

On the other hand Universae Ecclesiae wants to avoid the other extreme as well: “The faithful who ask for the celebration of the forma extraordinaria must not in any way support or belong to groups which show themselves to be against the validity or legitimacy of the Holy Mass or the Sacraments celebrated in the forma ordinaria” (19). While some of the faithful may have a preference for the extraordinary form, groups which attack on the legitimacy of the ordinary form are not part of the Holy Father’s vision of the liturgy.

Nonetheless, the implementation of the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council, which ultimately became the ordinary form of the Mass, is not above criticism. Speaking at an international conference on the liturgy earlier this month, Pope Benedict XVI stated that the purpose of the reform, “was not mainly to change the rites and texts” but to “renew the mentality” of worshipers. But he acknowledged that the implementation fell short of this goal. “Unfortunately,” the Holy Father stated, “the liturgy has perhaps been seen – even by us, pastors and experts – more as an object to reform, than a subject capable of renewing Christian life.”

While there have always been numerous liturgical rites within the history of the Catholic Church, it is a unique and even confusing historical development to have two official forms of the one Roman Rite. How are the two forms and their respective calendars to be reconciled? As a pastor who has been actively promoting a reverent celebration of both forms for almost four years now, there have been no shortage of strong opinions directed at me from across the liturgical spectrum trying to answer this question.

I think it must be said that the people have a right to come to church and to have the same holy Mass, performed with the same rituals every week so that through the repeated gestures and symbols, the Sacred mysteries are properly communicated. However, with so many changes, and so many liturgical abuses since Vatican II, the faithful have become the arbiters of good liturgy; a position that they have historically never possessed. Perhaps, as Martin Mosebach has written, this is one of the greatest tragedies of the post-Vatican II era of liturgy: rather than coming to worship the Triune God and humbling accepting the liturgy as a gift from heaven, the people in the pews have become self-proclaimed liturgical experts. As Mosebach writes, “I go to church to see God and come away like a theatre critic.”

Liturgical abuses became so bad after the Council that even the Congregation for Divine Worship’s instruction, Redemptionis Sacramentum, advises the faithful to do, “(A)ll that is in their power to ensure that the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist will be protected from any and every irreverence or distortion and that all abuses be thoroughly corrected. This is a most serious duty incumbent upon each and every one, and all are bound to carry it out without any favoritism” (183). Therefore, it is not surprising that so many of the laity have strong opinions, even if some of these opinions are uninformed.

As a priest, I have to be honest in saying that it is a challenge to offer the Roman Rite well here at the parish, with so many legitimate options: one Holy Mass I am offering the Sacrifice ad orientem, the next Mass I am offering It versus populum; one Mass is in Spanish, the next is in Latin; One Mass we are chanting the Latin Mass parts, the next we are reciting them in English; one Mass I am reciting the Canon out loud, the next the Canon is silent. This is the historical period that we are living in, and this is part of being a faithful Catholic in the year 2011.

For the future, Pope Benedict XVI has written that “the two forms of the usage of the Roman Rite can be mutually enriching.” There is much speculation as to what this mutual enrichment will look like. Currently, I think the common element in both forms is what the Pope calls the ars celebrandi, or the art of proper liturgical celebration. More specifically, the ars celebrandi is the “faithful adherence to the liturgical norms” (Sacramentum Caritatis, 37), and a manner of offering which fosters “a sense of the sacred” (40) and “awe for the mystery of God” (41).

I think all of the clergy here at St. Mary Church practice this ars celebrandi well, and while we have many liturgical options here at St. Mary Church, I think this common ars celebrandi is evident. I am often told when parishioners have visited other parishes on vacation, or for various Sacramental celebrations, how they miss the reverence and devotion that goes on here during our Masses. Even our children have told me that they have been surprised by the lack of reverence when they have visited certain other parishes. I have also been told when parishioners notice this ars celebrandi in other parishes, with hope in their voice. Therefore for now, the ars celebrandi is the common bond of the two forms.

Where will this “mutual enrichment” of the two forms of the Roman Rite lead? Perhaps only the Holy Spirit knows but after the release of Universae Ecclesiae this past week, Cardinal Kurt Koch stated that the pope’s ultimate goal is not simply to allow the old and new forms to coexist, but to move toward a “common rite.”

For this to be done the Church’s liturgy must be offered in continuity with the Church’s tradition, as the Pope has made clear, and not seen as a break, where people make a distinction between a pre-Vatican II and post-Vatican II liturgy. This will be difficult because there are not a small number of Catholics who seem to be embedded in the liturgical manner and music of the 1970’s and 1980’s, and unable to view the liturgy outside of this period. There are even those who have a curious self-hatred for things Catholic, like any use of Latin in the Mass. Obstacles like this must be overcome.

We here at St. Mary Church are seeking to implement the liturgical vision of Pope Benedict XVI, with the two forms “alongside one another.” No doubt there will be criticism of this liturgical vision as being “too conservative” or even “self-righteous,” yet our response must be in imitation of the Pascal Lamb, who “when reviled did not revile in return” (1 Peter 2:23). If we are attempting to root ourselves in the truth, we must be equally rooted in charity.

For anyone who has eyes to see, there is something quite amazing going on here at St. Mary Church. There are many gifted people who are being attracted to St. Mary Church from far and wide, and what is happening is larger than any one of us: the growing number of young families, the devoted altar boys, the student schola, the ethnic diversity – yes, there is something amazing going on here at St. Mary Church and I am very proud to be part of it.

Sincerely in Christ,

Fr. Greg J. Markey
frmarkey@hisnet.org

Traditionalists- the biggest obstacle to tradition?

Father Z has an interesting article up where someone discusses how the people who identify themselves as traditionalists are creating simply another ism against the Church, and the only true "ism" within the Church is Catholicism itself.

Father Z is also fond of posting articles about peoples' first experience with the Extraordinary Form. These articles are universally positive. I thought I would write a little about the time I spent in an Extraordinary Form parish, which, while positive, was also a little more ambiguous in many respects, and quite in keeping with the article I linked to above. The author of the article Father Z cites refers to "gnostic traditionalism." I know exactly what he is talking about.

I began by looking into the Extraordinary Form (at the time still under the old indult) and trying to learn everything I could about it. I found a parish which was under the indult that I could reach fairly easily, and resolved to go there one Sunday. From what I had read on the American blogs, such places were usually packed on a Sunday, so it was a good idea to go early.

First thing I noticed: it wasn't packed by any stretch of the imagination. There was no one waiting in the vestibule for the early Mass to end with me. The congregation when it did arrive, could easily have been quadrupled and left room. The second thing I noticed, the congregation was weighted towards elderly people, with a fair showing of young people. There were very few in the middle years.

As I walked into the church I looked around at the interior, and what I saw was one of our older churches which had probably once been spectacular, then fallen into some disrepair, and which was being revived. Then I fell face first into the floor, with a loud 'boom'. This being my first time to this parish, I was unaware that there were some among the Extraordinary Form congregation who felt genuflecting was insufficient, and prostrated themselves completely, lowering themselves entirely to the floor immediately after going through the door. I found out when I tripped over one.

Dusting myself off, I chose a pew near the back and continued looking around from the safety of my pew. I saw the confessional at the back was in use, with a good sized crowd going to confession before the Mass. Then I turned my attention to preparing myself for the Mass.

The Mass itself was neither overwhelming nor underwhelming. The priest was very careful and precise in all matters. I found I liked having everyone facing the altar. I liked people kneeling to receive communion. I found it much as I expected it to be. I resolved to come back.

I joined the schola of the parish and stayed with them for a little over a year. In time I got to know a few of the people who went to Mass there, and I found them to be good ordinary people. I also met other adherents to the older form whom I found to be a little more disconcerting. For example, many of them debated endlessly about canon law- or, more accurately, hypothetically debated with a hypothetical group (NO Catholics, presumably) because they themselves were in total agreement that everyone was wrong but themselves. They knew everything about the Church, the Mass, and so on, in exactly the same way that conspiracy theorists know everything about the Kennedy Assassination. When they spoke of the OF Masses and compared them to the EF Masses, they almost always compared the very worst of abuses of the OF and compared it to the very best of the EF, as if every OF was a clown Mass, and every EF was a pontifical. I found this group to be fairly unique to the Ef parishes, in that I can't think of an analog in the OF parishes. While on the one hand it was refreshing to meet Catholics who knew something about their faith, as opposed to so many of the Ordinary Form Catholics who know precisely squat, I must say that paranoia was never far from this group, and that was a little disturbing.

The Extraordinary Form Mass also had adherents who had their exact analogs in the Ordinary Form Parishes. For example, there are those who insisted that we play their favourite music in Mass, every Mass, all the time. One time, when the director decided to change the Credo from III to I for a little while, one of the members freaked- and I do not use that word lightly- and demanded to the priests that the director be removed immediately, and when they refused he began to try and bully the director into returning to playing 'his' credo.

There was also the Church Lady. She was an assistant to the priests, also a very popular blogger, and one of the most unlikeable people I ever met. She did everything she could to control the EF Mass and rule it like her own private fiefdom. In attitude she was exactly like the feminists with whom I butted heads back in the days of university, though in politics she could not have been more opposite. Her attitude went beyond a simple "I'm right and you're wrong" and headed towards an "I'm right and you're stupid." She demanded people display perfect manners to her, and listen politely when she spoke, yet if you spoke to her and voiced a disagreement, she would turn her back on you and begin speaking, loudly, to another. She also found fault with the music program and regularly bombarded us and the priests with complaints, demanding everything be more to her liking. The difference between her and an OF Church Lady? In politics, much. In attitude, nothing.

There was another tendency I fond among some of the worshippers, not all. Like the man who spoke of 'his' Credo, there were several who spoke of 'their' Mass, as though their adherence to the older form constituted some form of ownership. While I find their identification with the Mass to be admirable, they may as well declare the Sun and the Moon to be their chattels.

The people for the most part believed themselves to be separate from and different from most Catholics. The problem with difference is that it always eventually brings in a question of superiority. For these people, all of them, there was no question of who was superior Catholics, r who had the superior Mass: it was they, themselves. In many ways, I believe they were correct. Their behaviour at Mass, their observance of the commands of the Church were generally much better than most ordinary parishes. But in other ways, they were an ordinary parish, with many nice people and a few warts. Chief among the warts, if I may say so, is the sense of superiority among some of them, their sense of gnosticism, that they are the ones who truly know, and are better than others because of it. In the reform of the reform, those who hope the EF will influence and help the OF will find little aid among many of the parishioners of this church.

TLM Toronto

The FSSP has landed. Fr Z. has the details.

The parish website makes no mention of the FSSP, but there will be time to change that. The site doesn't have many photos of the interior, but from the outside, the church looks an awful lot like my old parish, St Mary Star of the Sea.

This is good news.

Church Attics and the EF

Last Sunday Father once again showed his fondness for rummaging through the attic of the Church by wearing an old fiddleback chasuble. It was a gold brocade beauty. There's a black one he sometimes wears (usually on All Soul's and Good Friday) that's really nice too. There are also a few copes that he trots out for the appropriate times.

After Mass my wife and I spoke to him for a few minutes. Puff asked him about the Extraordinary Form, and if it would be possible at St. C's. His answer was a simple no, not at the moment, because he is not formed in that rite. This was a fair answer. Most priests his age have no formation in the Extraordinary Form. But he went on to say that he was curious about the rite, and hinted he may seek formation. This was a bit of a surprise, though not as much if, say, he hadn't been wearing the chasuble. The fact that he is so fond of looking in the attic and opening up old chests, the care he has taken in preserving the building for future generations tells me he is a man to whom the past speaks with a strong voice. That he would be curious about the ancient rite is an extension of that principle.

I tried to encourage him in his curiosity. "You should go for it," I said. "Fiddlebacks are so you!" He laughed.

I don't know what, if anything, will come of this. I don't know if he'll ever get the formation. He is a busy, busy man, taking care of two parishes. For the moment, that doesn't really matter to me. He is not hostile, as are some priests I know. He is at least willing to discuss the matter, and that's something.

Toronto and the Extraordinary Form.

Vox Cantor posted about the FSSP coming to Toronto. Archbishop Collins has spoken to the FSSP, but does not seem to be able to make them an offer at this time. To put it bluntly, there doesn't seem to be the interest in Toronto.

I thought this myself for the year I sang at the the Extraordinary Form Mass at St Vincent de Paul. The first time I went to attend, I went early, because I had read in many American blogs that the Extraordinary Form was often packed. I needn't have bothered. The Mass was attended by about one hundred people. The Church was more than half empty.

Perhaps it was the time. Perhaps it was the place. Perhaps it was the lack of parking. Perhaps it was because the previous archbishop was opposed to the rite (so I have heard) and the priests were not allowed to advertise or promote the Mass. But that archbishop has retired and the new one is more friendly, and the attendance hovers around a hundred.

It is odd, the attitude of the Canadian bishops. Very few made any mention of the Motu Proprio. The only statement I saw from Archbishop Collins was a positive one, but it was in answer to a question during an interview. On his own he has made no statement. It is possible the Canadian bishops killed the MP more effectively with their silence than the bishops worldwide who tried to condemn it or put limits upon it. Bloggers can't even post and oppose the positions taken by the bishops, because they haven't taken any.

Word never really spread up here because no debate happened. Most Catholics I know outside the blogosphere had no idea that there was such a thing as a Motu Proprio, much less that the Pope recently issued one. The word is getting out slowly, if at all.

If you are interested in learning more about Collins and the FSSP, here is the link to Vox Cantor's article. He ends the article with a form letter to the Archbishop, expressing support for the establishment of an FSSP parish in the diocese. If you want a more prominent place for the extraordinary form in the archdiocese of Toronto, you know what to do.

Hollow Men, part ii

Our Dried Voices

Last week I posted on an article by Father Richard McBrien about the Motu Proprio Summorum Pontificum and the liberalisation of the Extraordinary Form. (Thank you, Paul and Dad29 for your kind reviews) Rather than attempt a direct theological rebuttal of his arguments, I rather sought to explain how he made those arguments, and attempted to persuade his reader that his viewpoint was the correct one.

He does this in a few ways. He takes the pose of a casual observer who is merely observing a debate. He is not making an argument, you see, he is merely observing one, and evaluating it. In so doing he is hiding the fact that he has created both sides of the debate himself, and we know this because he offers no quotations and no proof for anything he says for most of the article, until the end. He uses the Straw Man Technique extensively, in which he builds up one side- the side which is against the return of the Latin Mass- as having an "overwhelming majority" armed with certainty and backed by "many liturgists" while he diminishes the other side of the debate as a "tiny minority" which only "seems" to know what they want and only have the back of a pope who writes solely on his own authority. Finally, the entire proof for McBrien's article is an unspoken "Ethical Proof," which, simply put, is "Trust me, for I know."

At the end of his article, McBrien introduced his one piece of corroborating evidence: an article by a Bishop Wcela, whose tale of how a Latin Mass was let go at one of his parishes provided the entire justification for McBrien's article. McBrien ended the article by promising to come back next week with more on Wcela's thoughts.


He has now come out with that article, and I will go over it again as I did with the last. Again, it is not my aim to debate theology, but rather how McBrien constructs his point to be the only true one.


When We Speak


He begins thusly:

The Latin Mass, continued

He continues with the title from last week. Again, he this title conflates two Masses into one. While the Extraordinary Form must be done in Latin, the Ordinary Form may be done in Latin as well. As we saw last week, his argument that the Extraordinary Form should not come back ultimately rested on an anecdote that people didn't miss the Ordinary Form in Latin. He is continuing that non sequitor here.

By Rev. Richard McBrien

Bishop Emil Wcela, the retired auxiliary bishop of the Diocese of Rockville Centre, has written one of the best articles on the controversy surrounding the pope's recent authorization of the Tridentine Latin Mass. The article is entitled, "A Dinosaur Ponders The Latin Mass," and was published in the October 8 issue of America magazine.

As with last week's article, he is beginning by making observations. He is setting up his subject- an article by a bishop on the controversy. He is beginning by evaluation the article- it is one of the "best".

Wcela, who is now 76, has had broad pastoral experience - as a seminary professor, a bishop, and as pastor of one of the largest parishes on Long Island. That experience has taught him "that the vast majority of people find that [the Mass in English] enriches their understanding and participation."

Here McBrien outlines the bishop's credentials, and is setting him up as someone who should be trusted, so when the bishop says "the vast majority of people etc." he is already established as a knowledgeable source. He is going again with the ethical proof. Trust him, he knows. He must, because not only does he have all this experience, but he also wrote one of the "best articles" on this subject.

He concedes that there have been some minor problems in translating a few of the Latin prayers into English, and that "there are still priests who look upon the Mass as a showplace for their dubious creative talents rather than as a shared worship of the community of which they are a part."

Concessions are always interesting, for in a concession one takes control of one's opponent's argument and represents it in the way you choose. Further, by conceding a point, one is also in a way absorbing the opponent's argument and making it part of one's own, or at least controlling it. For example, the first point he concedes is minimized- at least in McBrien's synopsis- as "some minor problems" dealing with a "few" prayers. The second concession, quoted directly from Wcela is made more strongly and without qualification. But next comes another minor, qualified concession.

He also recognizes that some of the music employed in the liturgy leaves something to be desired. Trying to participate in Masses where the music is peculiar to a particular parish "calls for special dedication, because one encounters music known only to the local parishioners and to God."

Here we have a third concession. On the whole the writer is saying "Yes, there are problems... Yes, some people do have a point..." This is similar to last week's article where McBrien conceded that the people who advocate the return of the Mass had a right to speak- except what they said was irrelevant. Notice how the points are again minimized. "Some music", he allows, "left something to be desired."

I mentioned they made a strong and unqualified concession about priests exercising their dubious talents. That concession is now sandwiched between two minor qualified concessions. Does anyone remember Moonstruck, and Cher going to confession? She would talk at length about some minor sins, quickly slip in something major, and then back at length to another minor sin, in the hopes the priest wouldn't catch the big one in between. Same thing here. But I'll give a little credit: it could have been left out entirely.

Concessions, as I said, seem to admit that the opponent has a point. But it also allows the writer to control the representation of those points, and how they come through in the debate. That is what has happened here. McBrien and Wcela have allowed some points of their opponents do exist, and in so doing have taken control of those points. Further, it makes it seem that those points are the only points the other side has. One of my old Professors used to call this technique "inoculation". By injecting some of one sides points into an argument, the other side renders itself immune to the rest.

One more point: notice these concessions are made to no one in particular. No one in particular is making these points. These men are speaking simultaneously for themselves and for their opponents- except they are creating their own opponents once more. The straw man has returned.

But first, there's another concession coming. Perhaps the other side of the debate has another point. Or does it?

Bishop Wcela notes that when the Mass in English first arrived in the years immediately following the Second Vatican Council (which adjourned in December 1965), there were early reports of liturgical abuses. It was said that some of the so-called "new breed" of priests were celebrating with Pepsi and pizza instead of bread and wine.

This is a sort of concession, but a distanced one. Instead of saying these problems actually existed, he is saying they existed as "reports". As with the other concessions, these reports come from no one in particular. If this claim is true, then it is the worst of all the claims against them so far. But watch for what happens next.

Are As Quiet And Meaningless As

"Despite all the talk," Bishop Wcela writes, "I never met anyone who had actually been at such a 'mass.'" Nor did I.

No One in Particular, it turns out, is a very unreliable source. Wcela is suggesting that because neither he nor anyone else attended such a Mass, it never happened. McBrien lends his own voice to this suggestion. And you know what? I'll lend my own voice to it as well. I never even heard of such a thing, nor have I heard of anyone who has heard of such a thing, until this point was raised.

So why is it raised? It does a few things. Mostly, it makes the last objection from No One in Particular a fiction. If he had stopped at, say, the point about music, the last point made would indeed be a valid (if weak) point. This way, the last point of those who would oppose themselves to Wcela (and McBrien)- the strongest of the points they admit against themselves before they deny it- is not a point at all.

Secondly, it tends - implicitly, not explicitly- to cast doubt on the other points of No One In Particular as well. The point is cast as an urban legend. It is not put into this piece in spite of its fictionality, but because of its fictionality. McBrien and Wcela are implicitly saying: 'look, those other guys will even make up stuff and use urban legendsto bolster their arguments, whereas we use only our thinking and experience.' This puts Wcela (and McBrien- let's not forget who is writing this piece) in a strong position as they begin to represent their own point of view. It sets them on the road of rejecting counter arguments, which is what they proceed to do. For that, they need a few more straw men. This time, however, they actually exist. Sort of.

Wind in Dried Grass

Bishop Wcela cites two recent articles in support of the Latin Mass that, for him, only underscore the weakness of the arguments that have been mounted in favor of it. The one that appeared in Time magazine (July 30) was mainly concerned about the poor quality of sermons. The author's solution, however, was hardly designed to correct the problem.

I have not seen this article, and with the poor citation- no author's name is mentioned and we must wait until the next paragraph to learn that this person is a "she"thus the number of possible authors in half- it is not easy to look the author up. Not to wory, they'll tell us everything we need to know about this author and her article. Notice that this person's argument is dismissed as it is presented. McBrien/Wcela is not refuting the argument as presenting it as already refuted.

The "argument" was that, if the Mass were celebrated in a language that nobody understands and the priest presided with his back to the people, then she wouldn't have to listen to sermons on social issues with which she disagrees.

Ah, scare quotes. Putting the word argument in quotation marks is something like saying a word in an ironic tone. It does not change the literal meaning at all. What it does change is the effect of reading it- shifts the force- to the opposite. It suggests the argument is not worthy of the name argument, and is not an argument at all.

Furthermore, instead of quoting the article, he gives a synopsis, so the author's own words are not to be seen in this piece. What she actually says in this article I cannot tell. McBrien/Wcela may be giving an accurate portrayal of the piece. They may not. One way or the other, they have created a flyweight for themselves to push over.

"The Mass itself," Bishop Wcela observes, "would be a kind of mantra, a reassuring background for her personal thoughts about God and other things. Not much of a reason for a Latin Mass," he continues, "especially since not every bishop, priest or deacon will always be an inspiring preacher --- regardless of the language spoken."

A technical point- the sermon is no reason for denying the Latin Mass, which is what this whole article is about. Even in a Latin Mass- whether Ordinary or Extraordinary Form- the sermon is in the vernacular. So the bishop responds to "her" non sequitor with one of his own.

The other article, in The Tablet (July 21), the weekly newspaper of the diocese of Brooklyn, favored the Latin Mass because of what Pope Benedict XVI has referred to as "arbitrary deformations of the liturgy." Bishop Wcela's impression from reading the piece is that the author believes that every Mass in English is by definition a "deformation."

Another article by No One in Particular. This one is reduced in its entirety to Wcela's "impression." But trust him. He knows. Or McBrien knows. Or McBrien knows that he knows, and you should know because they know, y'know?

The author pointed out that she "loves to have the priest with his back to the congregation, facing the east, the direction from which Christ will some day return."

Huzzah! A quotation from this "She-Who-Is-No-One-In-Particular". At least we now have a solid point to be refuted.

Bishop Wcela's rebuttal-question is decisive: "Does it count for nothing that at the Mass Christ is with us then and there? When I imagine celebrating again toward the back wall, even an eastern wall, I remember how deeply moved I was the first time I was able to celebrate facing the congregation, whose faith and life I shared."

Except this decisive counter rebuttal has nothing to do with her statement. A technical point for McBrien: A rhetorical question is never a decisive counter argument. It is no counter argument at all in this case. He is not responding to her point, he is shifting the terms of the argument. In so doing, he has left her point intact. Also note, his statement is nothing more than his own personal impression and feeling. He was "deeply moved". He and McBrien expect us to be as well.

The author of the Brooklyn Tablet article readily admitted that she understands little Latin. But for her, "That's what the missal is for."

Here we have another quotation set up for rebuttal. And here it comes:

Again, Bishop Wcela punctures the "argument": "I certainly cannot dictate for anyone what brings them more deeply into the Eucharist. But I can only shake my head in puzzlement when I hear people talk of how good it is to celebrate Mass in a language they do not understand, while I continue my struggle to learn Spanish so that members of a different congregation can celebrate Mass in a language they do understand."

Again with the scare quotes. Apparently there is some rule for debate I missed: if you can't refute 'em, mock 'em. Once again, the argument is no argument, it is already null and void, all that is left is the burial. Wcela allows that he won't dictate what brings anyone closer to God, but then proceeds to ironically do just that. He shakes his head in puzzlement: He does not understand. This is how Wcela- to use McBrien's term- "punctures" the argument. He shakes his head in confusion.

Bishop Wcela expresses his appreciation for Pope Benedict XVI's "deep pastoral concern" toward those who have separated themselves from the Catholic Church because of the loss of the Latin Mass, and he hopes that the pope's initiative will prove to be fruitful.

This is very nice of the Bishop and McBrien to approve of the Pope. By now you should know McBrien/Wcela are only allowing points in order to refute them. And here it comes.

"Over the years, though, my experience with a few members of these splinter groups has convinced me that the Latin Mass is at most a rallying point, a handy focus. The real issues go much deeper, into faith, the meaning of church and God's salvific will."

The first part of the article- last week's article- started with the Motu Proprio and ended up mixing the Ordinary Form in latin with the Extraordinary Form, reducing the entire debate to language. This last quotation, placed in its context of following the statement about Benedict's "pastoral concern" is saying that the whole project was misguided in the first place. The entire debate is again reduced to language. Wcela and McBrien rise above that. They see more clearly than the Pope.

Again we get a punchline:

Bishop Wcela's article is required reading for anyone with an opinion on this subject.

McBrien is again authoritatively dictating the terms of the debate. They are his terms, and Wcela's article, which he agrees with so thoroughly that he spent an entire column summarizing it, is given more authority than the Pope. Even if all you have is an opinion, you must read this article. This one work alone is singled out as require reading, as opposed to, say, Summorum Pontificum.

I can see why McBrien would say that. In spite of all his claims to knowledge and certainty in these two articles, Wcela's article is the only source cited. From the evidence of these two articles, McBrien read Wcela's article and no other on the M.P. You should too.

A final statement. I have favoured an analysis of form over content in these two posts on McBrien. Why? After reading these articles, and several others on the net, McBrien's content should be written like this: "content".

You may now shake your head in puzzlement. Apparently it's the most effective rebuttal there is.

Once there was a time...

I told this story at dinner the other night. The family liked it, and Puff told me I should write it out on the blog. Like most of my best stories, it isn't my story at all, but my father's, and like many of his best stories, it's from the war.

Dad was at or near the front lines in Italy one day when an officer came down the line. "Any Catholics here," he began. "There's a priest about to say Mass in the next field." Dad took his helmet and rifle and headed over to the next field, as did several other Catholics.

He was appalled when he arrived. The field was wide open, easily visible from the Germans, and exposed to any kind of enemy fire. The men immediately looked for a hill, a shell hole, a rock, a furrow- anything that might give them any sort of cover. Meanwhile, in the middle of the field stood the priest, carefully setting up his Mass kit on a big rock, taking his time and doing it properly, appearing as if he had no concern in the world other than this, and going about it as if he were in a parish back home, and there was no war to trouble anyone or anything.

If there was ever a time for a Tridentine speed Mass, this could have been it. But, to Dad's horror, (and he knew, because he used to be an altar boy at a Cathedral) the priest said the Mass slowly and carefully, doing every movement as prescribed, omitting no prayer, while gunfire raged around them.

At last the priest turned, holding the consecrated host. "Come to Communion!" he shouted out to the men hiding in the field. "I grant you all full absolution. Come!"

Dad's reaction was: "He's got to be kidding." But then he saw it: the soldiers making their way forward to receive communion. Granted, they approached the priest at a dead run, and left at a dead run as soon as it was received. But still they came. Dad, emboldened by the other men, came forward himself, received, thanked God, and raced away.

He stayed in his furrow watching as the priest put away his Mass kit as properly as he set it out, and, when finished and having said his final prayers, the priest snapped his case shut and walked away.

That's the story. Not the best punch line, but the family liked it. I like it for it reminds of a good man I once knew and shall never see again in the flesh. It reminds me that there were other good men like him, once upon a time. Men who believed there were things to stand for, things to fight for, things that were worth risking your life for. And on that list of things worth risking your life over was Mass, and the chance for Communion.

Some Thoughts.

The rumours about the Motu Proprio are swirling yet again, and I have been thinking. Not about the release date- for that I have more faith in Curt Jester's random date generator than in any rumour I have heard- but about its impact.

One of the Masses I attend every week is the local indult Mass. The people who attend fall into two distinct categories. The first are elder people who attended the Mass years ago. The other group are younger people, in their twenties or thirties. (There is an entire generation in between the two that is almost entirely missing). Having attended for some months and speaking to people from both groups, I have some limited insight into what draws them.

The first and most obvious draw is Truth. The TLM is an uncompromising statement of the Catholic Faith, and both groups come to seek It at the Mass. Anything else I have to say is secondary to that one fact.

Mixed with this, the people are a little divided, largely by age. The elders want the Mass that they knew and loved. The younger are seeking a purity, or a transcendence, not found in the worldliness or timeliness of the NO. The motives can lead to some disagreement. I see that, for instance, in the music programs and the comments we get from the congregation. The elder crowd remembers hearing more songs in the Mass than we sing. They remember entrance hymns and recessionals, often in English. This is supported by the hymnals we have from the pre VII era- they all have large sections of hymns both in Latin and vernacular. The elders remember it well, and generally wish we would continue the old practice.

The younger crowd, on the other hand, generally want a perfection according to the rules. To them, this is the idealized Mass and they expect it to be ideal. And totally in Latin. The English hymns, some tell us, were never intended for use during the Mass, but are only for private devotion. The one time the choir did sing an English hymn (for a recessional- a double crime: there are supposed to be no recessionals in the TLM, the older people's memories notwithstanding) the parish received an angry letter stating that the choir should be removed immediately.

Music, though, is not my main point. Both sides have looked into the past to find what they want, either through memory or idealization. Here is the problem: They want the Mass as it stood in 1962. What will happen if it comes again into wider use?

The old Mass changed and evolved over time. Benedict himself recognizes this fact. If it comes into wider use again its evolution may start over. Both the young and the elders have fought and fought hard to have this Mass. Many travel long distances to come to it. They are unwilling to compromise. Several of them speak as owning the Mass either in whole or in part: Where's my Credo? My Gloria? My hymn? My Mass? If these people regard the Mass as "theirs", how can they allow the Mass to resume its evolution? How will they react to their part of the Mass being changed?

How will they react, I wonder, if other changes start to creep in? Would they accept, for instance, changes to the calendar made during the last forty years? Or changes to the readings to reflect years ABC? From what I have seen, the former is possible, the latter unlikely.


The Mass changed in the past, many times. It could still change. The question is, can the faithful?