I often wonder about Catholics who prefer the Latin Mass. I cannot help but think that they are saying, “Give me that old time religion.”
The problem is that Latin, while old, is not religion. It is neither sacred nor better than the current vernacular language. In fact, it was the vernacular language of the Roman Empire. While it continues to be read and profitably studied by classics scholars and taught in high schools and colleges, it is a dead language that is only spoken by a very small, and shrinking, number of people today.
It remains the official language of the Vatican, but try to find a bishop who speaks it. When official meetings at the Vatican are conducted in Latin, bishops scramble for their headsets for simultaneous translations. Vatican documents are issued in several languages so that Catholics can actually read them. The closest thing to a lingua franca today—like Latin in the Roman Empire—is English, so American Catholics should be grateful to be native speakers of the world language.
One of the ironies of the recent movement of a minority of Catholics to bring back the Latin Mass is that they pine for a liturgy (and an era) that the younger ones among these (and not a few) never knew. They must be listening to the stories of their parents’ or grandparents’ liturgical experience and wanting the same. The curious part of this is that most parents and grandparents do not want to return to the “good old days” of Latin Masses.
So what is Pope Benedict doing extending the right, earlier granted by John Paul II, to celebrate the Mass in Latin? Perhaps, he is trying to hold on to—placate?—a neo-conservative minority in the Church by giving them something that they want that will not matter doctrinally or morally. Perhaps, he thinks that bringing back the Latin Mass will bring back order, authority, and obedience in the Church. Less likely, he is allowing local autonomy and decision making in liturgical matters.
Roman Catholicism represents a long and complex history beginning with the life of Jesus and developing into a community that continues into the third millennium. It is a living body—of people, of doctrines, of interpretations, of actions. Likewise, those who argue that the Church should adhere to an unchanged and unchanging tradition have only to review the tradition to know how much the Church has changed. Those who insist that the Church is free to be and profess anything desired by its contemporary community also need to examine tradition to learn that the Church’s continuity is predicated on the preservation of tradition. Any tradition that is ongoing is also forever changing. The changes are often slow and subtle, yet, when examined historically, they are pronounced. It is the static notion of tradition that gives rise to radical difference between contemporary embodiments of the Church and historical ones.
Unfortunately, many Catholics view change and tradition as if they are in opposition to each other, when, in reality, tradition itself changes.
Virtually every diocese in America has Masses in different languages; so, sure, allow the Latin Mass—celebrated, of course, according to the 1962 rite as required by the Church, alongside Masses in English, Spanish, Vietnamese, Korean, etc. For some, it may connote a mystery and transcendence they don’t find in the vernacular. But don’t claim the Latin Mass is more authentic or spiritually superior. It is, after all, simply another language.
Verbum sapienti satis—a word to the wise . . .
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